FUCK.

I looked, and then everything was gone. In a flash. And my heart skipped a beat. Oh, fuck.

I logged into Tumblr just now, and everything was gone. The whole blog. All the queued up posts and the 112 drafts and my likes and my followers and everything was gone. Just like that.

Panic. Yes, panic. Suddenly things stopped, and life had been planned out for me in a certain way, along a certain line. Things that had existed in the past were supposed to go on existing. The things that I had built yesterday were supposed to be there tomorrow, but, then, for some reason, I looked, and *poof* it was gone. The oxygen in my lungs turned sour, and it crossed my mind that: all of this, for nothing. All of this, for no reason. Those furious moments of scribbling away – just, gone. All the hope and the ideas and the dreams of things that I was just dying to tell everyone out there on the Internet – it has vanished.

I had 150 posts in my Tumblr account, and now they’re gone. I’ll never know what they said, or what I was going to do, or what was going to happen. I can think of a few poignant pieces that were lingering in my drafts folder – a few vindictive missives aimed straight into the hearts of certain enemies. A few bitter ditties, some love letters. Maybe it’s best that those things never see the light of your bright computer screen. I wonder if there were beautiful essays, too. If I had any wonderful blog entries. What were they about? What were my missing 150 posts about? There was at least one recent post wherein I lamented blow jobs and how hard it is to suck dick, and that I never really want to suck dick, but I do it anyways because I’m a nice person. That one was weird.

I guess I have no choice but to rebuild from here. I have no choice but to forego Tumblr and keep Fuck Feast running.

Although, there is a pause in the panic as I set out to rebuild my miniature empire of words. I realize, suddenly, that with a clean slate comes change. And with change comes possibility.

Having just celebrated my three year anniversary of Fuck Feast, I realize, should I go a new direction? Or do I keep writing forward in a straight line like I always have? Fuck Feast has always kind of been in shambles. It’s just a word dump with no message, meandering into the ether of the Internet, reposting fun things, being pretty glib. Fuck Feast isn’t serious or taken seriously by anybody, but maybe this is a wake up call of sorts. I was just having a beautiful dream, but now it’s the morning and I have to go to work.

For a moment I thought, what if I stop writing! But, hah, I’ll never stop writing. I write like a sickness. I write despite the fact that no one wants to hear my speak. I write in the face of the adversity of my own social ruin. This will always be.

Fuck Feast will still be. I will keep spewing out sexual crap with faint trappings of feminism and emotion and Oakland. This is just what I do. Of course, I keep on telling myself: zine! Or, book! Or, anything that will turn Fuck Feast into something bigger than itself. It kind of is its own thing, pigeon holed into itself. We’ll see. We’ll see if Fuck Feast can fly beyond this paltry domain name one day.

For now, know that there were 32 posts queued up for reading pleasure (Because I’m crazy, and I write so much that the posts just stack up), so while I’m working on ramping up some more posts, things might not come out as regularly as they used to.

Fuck. I can’t believe my Tumblr account got deleted. That’s fucking crazy. But, life happens, and I have no option other than to move forward like a shark.

Okay. Let’s do this. Start swimming.

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