Photo: Martín Rivero
As I approach my mid-20s, it has become apparent to me that I’m no good at making anything. Luckily, we live in a society where you don’t really have to be good at making anything or doing anything. For anything I would actually need done or made, there’s someone or some company I can hire to do it for me, and everything I possibly need to live my mundane existence is made with the care of tiny child hands in China. The only craft or service I consistently supply for myself, I guess, would be masturbating. I could even pay for that service if I needed to—if it weren’t illegal.