Today heartache for the poet Simon Howard, someone I never met face to face but whose consistent gestures and words of support sprang up, seemingly out of nowhere, and always touched me so deeply, were so essential to helping me keep my chin up, whether it be for my head or for my poems or any and all of that. On so many occasions when I felt hopeless and worthless and decided that me and everyone else on the planet was an asshole, that I was the only one feeling down and broken and penniless and generally tiny and stupid and alienated, little distant glimmers like Simon truly elevated me, selflessly gave me oxygen, reminded me that there is a world, and that much of it is good, and that I should shut the fuck up and stop feeling so sorry for myself. Thank you, Simon. I wish you peace.