I am a disgusting person. I am constantly and brazenly unfaithful to my wife. She knows to expect a beating if she complains. I ignore my stupid, fat, whining kids. I'd drown them in the tub if I thought I could get away with it. I have stolen from charities and once kicked an ageing dog to death. Fuck it, I'm a practising paedophile. Why not? I practise all the time.
But it's all okay because I can write about it on an anonymous blog and thus, inexplicably, feel good about myself.
The Poses of Prose: On Writing, Yoga, and Embodiment
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