There I was, eating breakfast, playing a game, minding my own business… when suddenly, I receive a message notification. It’s from kat! But oh shit, I’M kat! Why am I sending myself email at 7 in the morning? And why does it say this:

Acres of palm savanna contain mahogany, Bahamian pine, palmetto, maidenhair ferns and several endemic orchids. He also formed the Florida Memorial Gospel Choir with Benjamin Carroll. Congress from New Mexico Territory in 1884. (kat@welljourn.org)

I can only assume this is me in a parallel dimension, attempting to communicate with all other possible me’s in the entire universe, and this particular me just happens to be a poor writer who’s short on introductions and unable to provide any context whatsoever.

Just calling it spam would be too easy.

Hey Google+, platkat was a thing before you were old enough to suck on the tech industry’s teat. I say good day.

Heh, yeah, no.

Oh My Goats!

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Giraffe.

hearse

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What you should do here is entirely up to you.

Inquiries? platkat@gmail.com



create your own personalized map of the USA

It’s the TSA’s fault. I should have at least made it to the Dakotas by now.