A former filmmaker, bartender, and nanny who ran away from Los Angeles, chilled in Michigan for a few years, and is on his way to Philadelphia. Michael writes odd fiction and draws and paints. He runs on black tea and almonds.
Depressed? Try Building a House for Faeries!
If I hadn’t gotten appendicitis at the beginning of December, 2020, I'm pretty certain I never would have spent seventy hours building a tiny little faerie house as a gift for my stepmom. That’s right, if my appendix, that vestigial organ of the bowels, hadn’t decided to get infected and inflamed and try to kill me, she would have instead gotten a pillow or a scarf or something I found on Etsy— some thirty-dollar tops purchase (times were tough) —and I would have gone another month (or two, or maybe eighteen) before I again hunkered down with my tools at my little workbench building little things meant for magical, imaginary, tiny people.