Kill Your Darlings
But first, make sure you know what you’re talking about
It’s 10pm, I just got back to my apartment, and I’ve scrapped the newsletter I had drafted for today. I have good reason for doing so.
Tonight I sat painfully close to two awkwardly high bar stools in a bookstore in Greenpoint. The bookshelves had retreated to the back of the space, making room for rows of folding chairs occupied by Archestratus loyalist…