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Catching The Last Rays Of Civilisation #38 :: Holding Space in the New Year

Alright, let’s get into it. So, here we are again. You feel that? That specific, low-grade panic humming behind your ribs? It’s not just the residual tryptophan and questionable champagne. It’s the calendar. It’s flipped. And somewhere, probably in between scrolling through someone’s impossibly clean “New Year, New Me” grid and staring at the existential…

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Happy Holidays

(The low hum of a space heater, the clink of a spoon against a ceramic mug. A long, contemplative silence.) Hey. It’s me. So. The lights are up on the houses. The weird, inflatable yard decorations are either charming or vaguely threatening, depending on the street. There’s a pervasive smell of cinnamon and pine needles…

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About Me

Hi, I’m Andy Russell. Fantastically wry and weirdly engaging, apparently. Often found speaking into microphones in empty rooms.

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