I’m 42 years old. I’ve paid my dues, and there is no fucking way i’m ever going to feel the need to explain myself to a member of the generation which dropped the ball the hardest. So, do i feel bad about the way that i talk? All the cursing and using some dead god’s name in vain? No. No i do not.
By jae
jae lethe (he/she/they) is a blogger, musician, artist, poet, web developer/designer, armchair philosophizer, teller of tales, and gadabout. Also, something he calls a "behavioral artist." (Not sure.) She has plans. BIG plans.
Among the things that he has done for a laugh are minor fractures, cuts, scrapes, and various scabs. Though she's quick to point out that they're no imbecile, we're fairly certain that he thinks the word means some kind of medieval pharmacist.
This is her latest home on teh internets - where jae stores their swear words, when they're not hurling them at the sun in vain.
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