A short series about what it’s like to send emails sometimes.
You peel your face off the faux-leather couch and part your sweat-soaked hair only to see that there’s something off about the public access channel you stopped on hours ago. You squint at the clock on the wall, but your groggy, sleep-deprived state has turned your living room into a single, unified blur. The vague insecurities you have when alone with your own thoughts begin to project themselves onto the screen in front of you. The television now almost has a voice of its very own. You become hypnotized by the blue glow and ethereal promise of internal comfort.
In other words, this is Channel 12.
San Fran (2017)