) A sonnet about the medieval combat and roleplaying game Mount and Blade.
) A short story about a young woman experimenting with sobriety while working as a staff writer on an animated kid’s TV show.
) A novel called The King of Not Killing Myself. Every chapter starts with: “In the year of the ____ (insert animal here), I _______ (insert unhinged behavior here).” It’s unreadable. So incoherent it’s borderline offensive. I hate it.
) A tweet about how the teens in Euphoria dress weird.
) A poem about my roommate and his love of birds and Magic the Gathering.
) A poem about my other roommate, who I gave my 20-gallon aquarium to when I moved here to Iowa City.
) An email to a man who may become my new therapist, possibly, maybe, if all goes well.
) An ode to myself titled “Ode to Steven Duong.” Horrid.
) A story/chapter in which the narrator stalks a man who once pulled up on him in a parking to yell at him after he cut him off on the road.
) A poem with the lines: “I’ll be better, chemically speaking. / Even so. When I hear you speak / of and to the devil, I’ll feel it big time.” It’s a ghazal. It’s for Elliott Smith.