Amelia, I am sorry about all the web comics. Everything is tied up in this volume of Victorian erotica, and I am terrified of the old believers. There is an entire chorus of them beneath my window, breathing fire. I want to tell them that no one knows how to use a body anymore. It's all tits and ass. It's all naked hot tub. It's kind of awkward, this facility of human movement and longing. Listen, assholes. You have made this erotica with your fire and your refrains, and it is plastered all over the Internet. I'm just letting you know.
Amelia, sometimes you are a machine. Sometimes I am forgiveness. Or revenge. It's hard to tell with the radio on.
Kristen A. Evans is 2/7ths of the way through her doctoral degree in English at The University of Massachusetts Amherst, where she also teaches composition. An assistant at Small Beer Press, she harbors ambitions for seven different careers at any given time. Massachusetts is great and all, but her heart belongs to Pennsylvania.