from CANIS LUPUS, or, the formation of the wolf by k.c cramm
21 notes
·
View notes
i'm sure you've asked this a lot, but do you have an estimated date for abm2 or specific timeframe you're hoping to get it out by? 👀
Yeah, I've been hesitant to say anything given that it's basically out of my hands to decide on releases and etc. at the moment. But I'm gonna try to be transparent.
So here's my plan: ABM 2 before the end of the year, likely October. However, this is only if a certain someone (as in, a publisher) doesn't change things for me.
My hands are tied right now and I, as per an agreement, can't release ABM-related stuff (including audiobook) without, well, permission. Despite that, I'm trying to plan as if I still have full creative control and hoping for a release in the fall of this year. I hope to have more updates soon.
21 notes
·
View notes
Finally an update on my newsletter, a narrative essay on cultural identity and the lack thereof. Inspired by the memoir "Crying in H Mart".
Please give me a read and share.
https://wiltedgarden.substack.com/p/she-is-an-uncharted-island
8 notes
·
View notes
hello, it’s been a hot minute—
today's the first weekend i had after two extremely chaotic ones, and the first one where i didn't have independent/personal research to do. time felt infinite. i watched recipes on instagram, went on a date, watched the IPL with rapt attention, cooked, made smoothies, spoke to a friend late into the night, listened to podcasts i'd saved ages ago, listened to notre dame on loop, took walks, and sat in the window watching the sunset progress.
and of course, as always, reading. foreign affairs' may/june issue; the magazine finally seems to be taking the world beyond the west into account at least enough to want to explain it. priya saitia's review of empireland says a lot of what i have wondered about since personal reckonings with colonialism became mainstream moral projects.
i'm currently two hundred pages into our share of night by mariana enriquez. its latent eeriness from the get-go is inviting, its measured stinginess with information intriguing. looking forward to seeing where this goes.
more in the newsletter + how are you?
30 notes
·
View notes
I. Morning Ritual
It’s early.
You’re not normally awake this early, and your eyes are still protesting being open. You yawn, wide and loud, and open up your window. It’ll be warm today, you know, but for now, the air is cool and thick, still carrying the remnants of the night with it.
Coffee is a necessity today—the sun is slower to rise than you, just barely brightening the world to soft grays. You hear a few tentative tweets and chirps as the birds warm up their voices. You take a deep breath of morning air, then you turn away.
For how clunky and modern your machine is, making coffee seems like a ritual this early in the morning, the heavy quiet of the day’s start giving a solemnity to your work. You pour in the water, you measure your grounds, you add your customary dash of cinnamon, watching as a fragrant, russet cloud floats up from the filter. One press of a button sends your machine burbling into life.
As the pot sputters and hisses, you return to the open window. The birds, sufficiently warmed up, have started their songs in earnest, but below the trees, the world’s still asleep. You know you’re not the only one awake, but it feels like you just might be all the same.
You’re not sure if that makes you feel special or very, terribly alone.
One loud sputter of relief from the coffee machine tells you that your potion is finished. You take your favorite mug—it’s very useful, on days where you wish you were still under the covers, to make the day more bearable—and you fill it, taking a moment to inhale the heady warmth of the steam that wafts up to you. Then you add your cream, and a little brown sugar, and a bit more cinnamon for luck. You stir clockwise—always clockwise, never counter—and take a sip.
The first sip, of course, is divine. It usually is. It’s spiced and just sweet enough, and warmth blooms through you as it travels down your throat.
You return to the window. Your mug sits perfectly in your hands, solid and warm, as you watch the world begin to stir. The sun has burst out, gold and warm, and you see cars start to pass on the street. Your fellow early risers have beat you out the door. Perhaps they’ve been starting the day right alongside you, with their own rituals to welcome the morning done in time with yours.
It’s nice, you think. It makes the morning much less lonely. There’s a kinship you feel with the cars that pass—here you all are, greeting the day as it rises and breathing in the cool morning air in one collective breath.
Your coffee is finished. The air is warming, and it’s time for you to go.
5 notes
·
View notes
new substack post either later tonight or tomorrow. if you even care
10 notes
·
View notes