once a month, i swear to god i’m done with writing. i tell myself the old internet is dead and there’s no reviving it. i delete whatever medium i’m desperately clinging to for attention or relevance or the tingle of aspiration i once felt in the presence of a cool, self-possessed internet personality and promise to dedicate my precious time and attention to literally anything else. i’ve been on the internet for two decades — surely, i’ve run out of things to say.

and i was so serious this tim...