Later Board

I’ve given up on letter boards. What started as an idea for a monthly project quickly devolved into a dreaded monthly chore. After a year of forced dedication, I thought I’d move to a quarterly model. After one quarter, I’m considering throwing the whole board in the trash. Let some scavenging hobo curse themselves with the idea that sinking time into a custom marquee will benefit them in some way. It won’t. Before long, they’ll grow impossibly tired of those pointed, plastic letters jabbing at their fingertips. Back into the trash it will go. The cycle will continue. My fingers still hurt. Nobody deserves such an archaic, tactile nightmare. Nobody needs a letter board. Save your “inspirational” excerpts and misattributed quotes for Instagram. That’s the only modern, accepted way to let your mental illness shine. 

Me? I’m going traditional. Catch me cutting ransom-style letters out of magazines to craft vague, eccentric threats and mailing them anonymously throughout the country.