My enjoyment or lack thereof for a dish is defined here in all its simplicity. I’m wearing my tongue and my taste buds on my sleeve; no assumptions necessary.

Substack started as a sanctuary for storytellers, then the growth hackers arrived. I would know as I had been one of them.

There is a man who spits in my neighbourhood. You would have implied this from the title, but perhaps not the location. Nevertheless, he walks and he spits. I had never noticed this Man Who Spits until he was pointed out to me. “Like clockwork,” I was told, “He comes by at 8:00 AM every…

Strapped to the front of a combusting cylinder, Nichole Ayers graduates to space. But from way down here it may appear like there’s fear all over my face.