2019 was mostly a decent year for me. I didn’t have a stroke again, so that’s something, right?
Last year, I continued to explore much of Oklahoma and its cantankerous festivals, find some semblance of local romance and, best of all, left the destructive cult that I had become entangled with for the past few years. And sure, I received threats of maiming and mutilation from the various residents of Rush Springs for publicly opposing their racist mascot, but, you know, who hasn’t?