the scent of 2019 is in the air

There are a number of things on my 2019 list. Priorities, projects.

The first project: a daily writing journal. I’ve already been writing a page a day in my “daily activities” agenda (next year will be the fifth year I’ve been doing this), so the daily writing journal will be natural and smooth, a non-stressful, non-draining, steady way of working on various writing projects.

I got this journal yesterday at the local dollar store.

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I’ll be sharing much of what this journal will contain with my Patreon members. Which brings me to the 2019 list: Patreon will be one of my main priorities. I update this website blog around once or twice a month, but I write Patreon posts much more often. In 2019, Patreon topics will include my books (obviously), living with PTSD, genderqueerness, creativity, introversion and solitude, the 70s, self-care and self-respect, toys, music, Mozart, violin playing, the art of indulging oneself, living one’s best life… just to name a few.

Apart from cannabis (see “living with PTSD” above), Patreon is one of the top things that have had a beneficial impact on my existence this year. The material/emotional support I get from members who believe in my work and enjoy it, their enthusiasm, contributions, participation, and encouragement—it’s all absolutely priceless to me on many levels.

I have a limited amount of time and energy. Patreon members will enjoy the bulk of my creative efforts and endeavors. A number of my upcoming books (such as Reveries of an Improper Solitudinarian) will only be available to members.

I’ll continue using Twitter to share links to website updates, Patreon posts, and the very occasional tweet and RT. I’m more present on Instagram (although it’s now, alas, owned by the loathsome FB, Instagram was wisely left alone—so far, anyway—which is one of the reasons I still use IG).

Facebunk: my opinion of it remains the same. Dreadful platform. I want nothing to do with it. I won’t bow to it. I’m proud to live my life without it. Oh, and apparently said platform, which is terribly shocked by naughty bits, now also targets “vague suggestive statements” and the mere hint of sexy talk as against its policies or whatever.

“First Tumblr bans NSFW imagery, now Facebook bans NSFW *words*!!” tweeted one user on Wednesday.

Imagine if something like this had happened on Livejournal during its heydays. The furor! Won’t somebody think of the fanfic?? I remember people leaving LJ in protest against less blatant puritan pearl-clutching and “investor-friendly” sanitization/normalization. Now, FB devotees simply swallow the pill and comply.

The “normal” Sunday School nanny Internet: what smashing fun it is. But at least you can keep up with distant relatives you haven’t seen in thirty years, and that kid from Elmsdale Elementary (what’s his name again?), and the intelligence-challenged prom queen who harassed you back at good ol’ Suckballs High. And advertisers know everything about you: convenient! Thank you, O Almighty Facebunk. Peuple, à genoux, attends ta délivraaaaance

Seriously, I have lost touch with friends because I’m not on FB, and more people might know about my work if I were there… but I’m willing to pay the price not to be on that platform. Because I think FB is terrible.

Anyhow.

Rascal: A Manifesto is the foundation of all my upcoming books. No other work of mine means more to me than that one. I’m grateful to everyone who has acquired a copy, read it, shared their impressions of it, recommended it.

Rascal with a new, rapscallion like-minded friend:

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Speaking of naughty things and fabulous books, here’s a lovely tome devilish types will want to add to their library immediately:

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Fred is one of the most delightful fellows you could meet. Buy his book here: Homo Satanis

In other news, tomorrow will be five months since I had the monthly crud. Yep, the whole fertility garbage I never had any use for is well on the way out.

I’m still enjoying my 70s Holiday Extravaganza in a fierce, fierce way. I got a Barbie Townhouse (damn you, Barbie!). It’s wrapped and under the tree: a glorious sight if there ever was one. I will be playing with it.

ETA: well, apparently something might actually be taking place after all these months re: reproductive crud. No wonder I’ve been feeling so lousy and drained these past couple of weeks (it wasn’t only because I had to have my damn right ear irrigated at the clinic again). We’ll see tomorrow but even if there is something, if it’s anything like last time it won’t be much…

And on that charming note, I think it’s time to call it a night a get some rest.

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70s Festive Holiday Extravaganza, tarot, life improvement

Although the past couple of weeks have been a bit tough (many appointments, severe shoulder pain and the anxiety attack that went with it, furnace problem and the PTSD spike that went with it, early snow), my 70s Holiday Bubble has been even more glorious this year than it was last year.

I began right at the start of November. And I’m so glad I did. One month wouldn’t suffice to enjoy the bliss of the Festive 70s environment I created in my cozy home.

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I’ve filled the house with delicious scents and sparkling joy. I’ve gotten boxes of Pot of Gold chocolates, Black Magic, After Eights.

Classic holiday albums have been playing on my turntable, my 1975 Eaton’s Holiday catalogue is on the coffee table. Total Environment delights. Presents are wrapped in cheerful paper and displayed beneath the tree. One of these gifts from me to me (“It’s just what I wanted!”) is something I hadn’t had since I was a kid: a Barbie doll. But not any old Barbie: a stunning, 70s-tastic 2018 Holiday Barbie.

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It’s the perfect touch to my 70s imbued Festive Season.

I love sitting in the living room, with the fireplace station on the television, while gazing at the happiest tree I’ve ever had. The beautiful, glittering, colorful but much smaller tree I had there last year is now in my lair, because this year, one tree simply wasn’t enough.

All of this has been so sweet to me… It’s sumptuous.

In other news, because I’ll be focused on Masterful for the next two or three months, my Stay Home Vagabond zine has been temporarily put on hold (producing it is more time consuming than I’d anticipated, especially since I expanded it); during this book writing and publishing period, my second and third tier Patreon members will receive Quiet Times newsletters and Mini Poster Prints.

As part of my most recent life improvement strategies, one thing I’ll be doing much less effective immediately is social media, specifically Twitter and Instagram. Twitter has become a maelstrom of negativity and downright lunacy, and whatever one shares there is almost immediately swallowed up by the tsunami of input that is Twitter (of course, that’s the idea: it’s so you keep tweeting and trying to stay on top of the endless barrage of tweets, a virtually impossible “task”). I’m exhausted by this. Utterly. I’m sick to death of it. And Instagram is… meh. It’s very app oriented, and I dislike using my smart phone. On top of that, Instagram actively limits the number of followers who actually see one’s posts (unsurprising: the loathsome FB platform acquired IG).

I’m just… I’m so fed up with it all. It’s life draining. It sucks your energy dry. And for what? I’m rather over this internet Sisyphus deal. I’m not interested in trying other platforms (I’ve already done that ad nauseam).

The world of Twitter and the real world, the material world, are two vastly different things, and I much prefer the latter.

Yesterday and the day before, I was in full recuperation mode due to the stress of the last two weeks. I jotted down notes, enjoyed delicious food, watched movies, relaxed. I barely touched social media, and I felt, well, happier in general. I’ve been ambivalent about social media, social networks, for so long, and increasingly so these past few years… From now on, I’ll be using Twitter mostly to share links to my latest Patreon and WordPress (logospilgrim.com) posts. When I do photo sessions with my phone, I’ll share the results on Instagram.

My online activity will center around Patreon and this website. If you like what I do, if you’re interested in my books and art and photography, please follow this website (via WordPress or email) and/or my Patreon account (some of my Patreon posts are accessible to non-members).

When I want to let my thoughts wander and look at happy things online, I’ll be on Pinterest.

My preferred way of staying in touch with friends is by subscribing to their blogs (via email), or becoming a member of or following their Patreon accounts. Note: I don’t do the YouTube thing much.

So, there it is. I’m going to focus on what works for me.

I’ve been getting back to tarot, to reading it professionally (which I did many years ago). This has been a source of immense pleasure to me. Once I picked up the tarot again, I realized how much I’d missed it.

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I created a tarot page here on my website (still under construction), but I will be giving precedence to live readings. I’ll have a limited number of reading appointments per week.

More Masterful news soon. And eventually more Mozart story news as well.

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festive passion

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

Tomorrow is Halloween! And October has been a marvelous, sublimely quiet month. I sent my Patreon members all sorts of fun stuff, and I’ll be working on the October second and third tier Patreon membership envelopes this week; they’ll include Stay Home Vagabond #6.

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Drawing again has been absolutely wonderful, I must say. My Patreon members also received a Mini Poster Print (8.5X11 on 65 lbs stock), with second tier members being sent the “silver sunglasses” edition, and third tier members the “gold sunglasses” edition.

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I will be drawing many more Mini Poster Prints in the coming months, with themes centered around the joys of solitude, being a tomboy, a stay home vagabond…

At the beginning of October, I took some sultry self-portraits featuring my new Killstar inverted pentagram choker and dark purple lipstick.

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I recently ordered a long silver wig, so… More portraits in the near future.

Today, the wonderful Reverend Campbell (Speak of the Devil) read a review I wrote of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s surreal 1932 film Vampyr. Feel free to check it out.

In other news, my violin teacher is putting a show together in March and he’s asked me to dress up as Charlie and perform one of Chaplin’s musical pieces with him. That took my breath away! Hopefully, by then I’ll sound a little less like I’m tormenting a cat or something when I play. As I may have mentioned before, both my teacher and I are massive Chaplin admirers, and my Charlie photographs blew my teacher away. To dress as Charlie again in the context of performance is nerve-wracking and tremendously exciting.

Apart from my Patreon endeavors, November and December will be wholly dedicated to writing Masterful: Severus Snape, a Jar of Cockroaches, and Me (Patreon members will be treated to in progress excerpts, and when it’s completed, they’ll have access to it before anyone else, and their version will be a special edition). I’ll also finally be getting back to Wolfgang: A Fantasy (I’ve been needing to submerge myself in this story again so badly!). Speaking of Wolfgang, Nezumi has been in the completion stages of my costume, and here’s a hint…

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How glorious is this, I ask you?? I’m going to be overcome by bliss when I see it and put it on for the first time, without a single doubt.

In the spirit of Mozart, I’m phenomenally in the mood for the holiday season. It’s going to be a 70stastic holiday extravaganza for two months around here (Baroque is so 70s). I’m putting my trees up as soon as November begins.

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I’ve already ordered most of my bear William’s holiday wardrobe. I want red and green, gold and silver, festive cheer in my seasonal bubble of peace and tranquility…

I’ve never been happier in my life.

I continue to celebrate my life, and myself, as I never have before, and it’s a magnificent breath of fresh air. Take a look at the amazing pyrographic art that my friend R.M. Negroni created for me (do visit his Etsy shop, Funeral Pyre Designs). I commissioned this portrait from him to mark my joining the CoS this year. I placed it in my personal altar cabinet.

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As I said, life is good. I’m very happy that we’re about to enter November, one of my favorite months of the year. I love the stillness, the silence of November. I love the leafless trees, the grey skies, the deep, abiding tranquility of November. It’s extremely inspiring and suited to my temperament. It’s Lair Season.

Writing, burning deliciously scented candles… Yes.

Say cheese.

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safe but extremely rattled

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

As some of you may have heard, the region where I live was hit by tornadoes a few days ago. I’ve had friends from as far as Australia inquire about my well-being. I’m going to write about the events in question a bit; I’m sure it’s going to help (writing has always been a tremendous help to me, my entire life). I’m still suffering from increased PTSD symptoms. The night after these storms, I was so exhausted I slept for close to eleven hours.

I watched the news a bit last night, but had to stop because I began to feel ill.

We’d already been warned about strong storms that would possibly occur on Friday. So, naturally, I was on heightened alert (living with PTSD, I’m always on the verge of high alert; it’s there, dormant, beneath the surface). To top it off, I’ve always had an irrational fear of tornadoes; this natural phenomena is absolutely terrifying to me.

Perhaps this is because it reminds me of sperm donor, a.k.a. the man who terrorized me during my childhood: the kind of thing that strikes out of nowhere, with barely any warning, leaving destruction in its wake.

By the time I drove Mr P to work, even though the skies were still sunny, I saw on my phone that the region was already under a tornado watch, and I had a very bad feeling. Something felt very wrong.

So on the way home, I filled up the car with gas, and as soon as I got home, I began gathering my emergency supplies. One of my bug out bags, the bigger one, was already in the basement—I’d put it there before Mr P and I left, and the cat’s carrying case was ready—and I got my portable radio, extra batteries, flashlights, water, I made sure my phone was fully charged. The sky was changing, it was becoming cloudy and dark.

I set myself up in the basement (I had chair pillows), and kept checking my “local” Twitter feed while I listened to the radio. Suddenly, emergency signals started blaring on the radio, messages from Environment Canada: we were now under tornado warnings and being told to take shelter. The radio said that the storm was going to strike in fifteen to twenty minutes.

I put the (unhappy) cat in his carrying case—I didn’t want him loose in the basement at that point—and felt extremely apprehensive. I was twitching, my hands like ice. I decided to try to calm myself by grabbing two IKEA foam mattresses and making myself a kind of fort. It did help a little bit, as did the BOOM FM fellow on the radio, and my Build A Bear William (while I hastened to gather my supplies earlier, I had him on my back, in his BAB bag, and it’s amazing how much this helped. I don’t call him my therapy bear for nothing). Potion, my cat, had been quite vocal in his displeasure after I put him in his case, but then he was quiet, I had his case squeezed against me, the opening against my thigh so he felt safer, and the combination of my cat, my bear, and the radio/phone helped me keep it together as much as possible under the circumstances, hunkered down with the mattress right on top of me.

Writing about this now, I’m shaking.

The warnings and alarms kept coming. I couldn’t see out of the small basement windows, and didn’t want to either.

I kept hoping I wouldn’t hear that “train” sound they talk about when a tornado is coming.

I checked and checked my Twitter feed. Then they were saying funnel clouds had been seen, that tornadoes had been touching down. I stared at my bear, I touched the cat through the carrying case’s openings. I knew Mr P was likely okay, based on what I was reading on my phone; and he was in the basement part of the stone building.

You get in this surreal state where you’re not in touch with anything somehow.

The alerts kept coming, but the places they mentioned were farther and farther away; warnings for my region ended, but watches remained. I stayed in the basement, hiding, for over an hour, and I was contacted by loved ones via text. I saw that places had been heavily damaged, places all around the area where I was, but we weren’t completely aware of the full extent of the destruction at that point, it had all happened so fast no one had gotten their bearings yet (a power station had been pretty much razed; houses were torn up or even destroyed; later on, as I watched news reports, I saw this poor man sobbing as he described holding on to his daughter’s hand so she wouldn’t be swept away while his third story apartment was being shredded by what turned out to be an F3 tornado, and I shuddered from head to toe. Note: his whole family is okay).

So eventually, I emerged from my mattress fort, and slowly came out of the basement, hypervigilance skyrocketing. Areas that had been heavily damaged were Dunrobin in Ontario; that tornado crossed the river into Quebec, and headed for Mont-Bleu, which is, as I mentioned on Twitter, twenty minutes away from here; another, smaller tornado damaged other places, Nepean, Gatineau, a school had caught fire…

In all my years I’ve never seen anything like this.

I got text messages from Mr P, saying his workplace had lost power; the next day, it was still without power and I was excessively glad he was home with me. We did the food shopping together, and he’s been protectively hovering over me.

I’ve been through some terrible situations in life (such as being afraid, for decades, that a loved one would end up getting killed by a fucking malignant narcissist psycho), and the past year and a half, as some of you know, has been fantastically trying (one situation is not yet fully resolved, but should be soon). I’m worn so thin I don’t want much of anything to do with the outside world right now.

While I was reading about the havoc these storms and tornadoes had wreaked, I saw news about Barrhaven: places had been set up there for people to get food and what have you, because so many areas were out of power. Immediately, I thought about this sweet girl who works at the Build A Bear where I like to shop… My Build A Bear having been so helpful to me during this crisis, I thought of her, because during one of our chats—she’d chatted me up a lot on occasions when I was looking around the store at the new items they’d received, she’s such a fun and friendly person, but then everyone at that store is absolutely lovely, great staff—she told me she was from Barrhaven (I’d asked for directions because Carling Avenue had gotten torn up, road crews were putting in new pavement).

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So I tweeted a short sentence saying that I hoped “the sweet girl who works at the Build A Bear is okay,” because I knew she lived in Barrhaven.

The next thing I know, right when I was shaking and generally under the shock of everything that had happened, severe shock complicated by PTSD, some sad, random fucknut on Twitter takes it upon herself to declare it was the creepiest tweet she’d ever seen, save for things tweeted by the Orange piece of shit I refuse to mention by name.

To say I was floored would be an understatement. I replied that, excuse me, I’m a woman, I shop there, and the person in question is young, and why don’t you see a fucking psychiatrist? In addition, the person about whom I’d dared express concern had been very kind to me, and go fuck yourself.

This wackjob counters with a weak riposte, why did I “single out” one young person who works in a toy store when thousands were affected by the storm (oh look, a humanitarian who thinks strangers need her permission to be concerned about acquaintances, and said wackjob knows neither of us). She added that my Twitter avi was “intentionally lecherous.”

You seriously can’t make shit like this up.

Incidentally, her own avi looks something like this:

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The kind of individual who’d be “creeped out” by a smile, or cake with sprinkles.

She can go right ahead and jump off a fucking cliff.

At that point in the “exchange,” if one may term it that way, I thought, right, we’re done here. I blocked her, deleted my responses—I wanted nothing more to do with this fine specimen of lunacy (thank fuck I hardly ever encounter people like this, oh and please, nobody bother with this individual)—and increased my self-care activities, because as I said, all of this was terrible and my nerves are exposed and raw. I’m functional, but at minimum levels.

So anyway, back in the world of persons who have positive things to contribute, who create, and who enjoy life, I will be resting and recuperating this week, then get back to the Patreon things I was working on Friday morning, before everything went haywire.

Deep gratitude for the support and friendship of everyone who loves me.

Right now, Mr P is making another feast for us, we have cake with buttercream, we’ll drink wine, and I’m going to relax and watch movies and do things that make me happy.

Oh, and happy BiAwareness to all of us who are asexual, genderqueer, and bi-romantic (like I am) or bisexual.

Say cheese.

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sensual, solitary, serene

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

As some of you may have heard (if you follow my Twitter and Instagram accounts, or are Patreon members), my Patreon account is now classified as “adult content” because of “implied nudity” or whatever:

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At any rate, I’ve decided that Jimmy Crack Corn and I Don’t Care. So my Patreon members can look forward to more asexual sensuality…

For instance, that’s what they’ll get when I take portraits featuring this Killstar choker (which I ordered the other day):

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In other Patreon related news, I’m sharing Wolfgang over there with all members (first, second, third tiers).

Statue of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, located in the Burggarten in Vienna

They say I want to kill him.

I’ve heard the outlandish rumors going around the city like vermin. I can sense the furtive, sidelong glances cast in my direction whenever I attend any function of note lately.

Not that he’s been present at the fine social gatherings where higher classes enjoy being seen. They shun him, those aristocratic bootlickers who sway according to the whims of the Imperial Court, and they have the audacity to believe I’ve harmed the fading prodigy.

People say I’m jealous of him. That I envy his talent, his brilliance. This is, of course, all too accurate.

I did envy him. I still do.

Il maestro divino

For more, join the club.

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Oh, and speaking of Mozart, the red and gold outfit Nezumi is crafting for me will be utterly mind-blowing. It’s getting closer to completion, so, more photographs on the horizon.

I’m posting on Patreon more and more. Yesterday, I shared a photo of the absolutely fantastic milk-themed pencil cases that arrived in the mail that morning. Slices of life while I’m working on various projects and books. October and November will be all about Masterful, which I want to publish before the holiday season. Also, I will be creating stand-alone, highly illustrated exclusive zines for my third tier Patreon members. My regular zine, Stay Home Vagabond, is an ever increasing source of delight to me.

I’ve been greatly enjoying my violin classes, and I want to make macramé again this fall (I’ve missed doing this). I adore my lair, my various collections, my tranquil life.

Say cheese.

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Masterful: Severus and me

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

Summer’s been hot, but I can sense the faint beginning of autumn in the air, and oh yes, I’m more than ready.

I’ve plunged headfirst into my next writing project, which has been long in the making. This book is even more outrageous than Rascal. It’s a continuation of Rascal: A Manifesto, in a way.

This book will be published late this fall (I’m aiming for November). Apart from my Patreon activity, it’s the focus of my attention at the moment. I’ll also continue working (at a slower pace) on Wolfgang, Booklet Two in September.

Here’s what I recently wrote on Patreon about the author photograph I took for Masterful: Severus Snape, a Jar of Cockroaches, and Me.

I wanted this photograph to celebrate my humanity, freedom, vulnerability, and power. For many years, I was Orthodox when I cosplayed Snape, and the costume had monastic connotations to me. This is definitely no longer the case. So I wanted to demonstrate this in the portrait. One of the things I’m going to discuss in the book, which will be mostly about my life experiences in relation to Professor Snape, is how my understanding of him has evolved and helped me in my personal development and emancipation. His strength of character, his ability to stand tall, to stand alone, his abiding mystery… All of this is what’s most appealing to me about him.

Doing this shoot was exhilarating. I took quite a few shots, as usual, because I know that in most cases, minor variations will strike a photograph from the list; this or that isn’t right…

The photo I selected had all the elements I wanted the portrait to have. I wanted it to be fairly androgynous, ultimately I wanted a half coat, half flesh situation, with at least a portion of my Snape ink visible, and with, well, the kind of expression I have in the photo I chose.

I didn’t touch the original shots much. That one, I barely even had to crop, I’m trying to remember! I added a touch of contrast and made the green colors pop more. Because I’m so darn pale, the silver makeup on my eyes, and the glitter on my face and neck, chest, and upper left arm basically look like a shimmering glow in the photo. On the actual cover, I think that some of the glitter will be more visible. I’m happy I picked the silver background, because it looks great in the shot. Throughout the session, the light kept changing because I was using natural light.

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Are you ready for this ride? It’s going to be a wild ride, I tell you.

In other news, I have a Build A Bear named William and it makes me tremendously happy. Working in my 70s lair is a source of continual joy and pleasure to me.

Say cheese.

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saucy and snazzy

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

So I’ve had a lot going on.

Dealt with an ear problem (after weeks of misery, I made an appointment to see my doctor). The combination of narrow, twisted ear canals and eczema is no joke. But the situation is much better now.

I did celebrate my 49th birthday splendidly, though. And took self-portraits to mark the occasion. I wore the disco dress.

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Genderqueer, baby.

I’ve been very busy with my Patreon. Membership is steadily growing, which makes me intensely happy. Patreon has contributed to my life like nothing else since I began writing and independently publishing my work. I’m profoundly grateful to my Patreon members who make me feel like a million bucks and fill my creative tank to overflowing.

I’m creating zines and drawing again (messy drawings, which is new for me, but it feels good); if you’d like access to my zines, exclusive blog posts, and special editions of my books, become a member.

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(detail of the photograph included in issue #1 of my zine, Stay Home Vagabond, in which I magnify and revel in my humanity)

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I was also interviewed by the fabulous and lovely Lauren Hippenstiel; the interview is available on her blog, iamasatanistand.com. You can read it here, and while you’re at it, take a look at her fantastic review of Rascal: A Manifesto (buy your copy today and review it on amazon.com).

Right now, I’m working on Wolfgang Booklet Two, and Masterful: Severus Snape, a Jar of Cockroaches, and Me. I’ll be doing a photo session for the author portrait that’ll go on the back cover of the latter very soon. Watch out! It’s going to sizzle.

Masterful is a phenomenally cathartic book. Writing it is so satisfying.

Here’s a “speak your mind” tea cup and saucer crafted by Miss Havisham’s Curiosities that captures the spirit of said book:

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No, I don’t put up with crap anymore. It’s healthy; I recommend it.

A couple of months ago or so, I had fun taking more Mozart portraits. I got a red velvet coat and snapped away (at some point in the coming months, I’ll be doing this with the red 18h century style Mozart costume).

Note: my Wolfgang story is going to be so wild. And semi-autobiographical in a totally fantastic sense.

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Mozart upon waking, velvet coat in strategic disarray. I’m cheeky these days. I’m sure Wolfgang would appreciate. Leck mich im Arsch, rawr.

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Let me tell you, life is good right now. I’m so much happier than I’ve ever been. And I’m taking excellent care of myself.

I’m really enjoying my violin classes, by the way. I’m currently learning (or should I say re-learning) Bach’s Minuet No. 2.

More photos soon! Green polyester shirt, opened Snape coat, a mass of silver bling.

Say cheese.

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Wolfgang, O my fount of pleasure

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

Yesterday, I published the first Wolfgang booklet, a special edition for my Patreon members, and I couldn’t be happier.

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I have been sucked into the story head first, and the delight it’s been giving me is beyond description. I’ve never had so much fun, tasted such pleasure, working on a story. This story encompasses everything I love, everything that makes me happy and interests me, everything that’s affected me and sustained me in my life. I’ll touch upon subjects that are of great relevance to me, such as the arts, creativity, religious emancipation, self-empowerment. I’ll write about sensuality, decadence, Baroque treasures, Vienna, romance, sacrilege, and celebrating earthly existence.

The characters in this book, and their relationships, will embody my personal struggles and triumphs.

Here’s the blurb for my Wolfgang booklets:

“What need have I of an otherworldly paradise: his music is my heaven.” In this daring supernatural tale of love and emancipation, 18th century composers Antonio Salieri and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart are confronted by a startling new reality that will change the course of their lives. Only by embracing the challenges that lie ahead, only by crossing the forbidden boundary that separates the ordinary world from a secret, passionate realm will they experience joys undreamed of by most mortals and attain ultimate fulfillment.

The regular edition of this booklet will be available to everyone once the second booklet is published for Patreon members. Readers will be able to purchase a copy via a direct access lulu link. Whoever wishes to obtain a copy via different means should contact me, and I’ll do my best to set up alternatives for them.

You can become a member of my Patreon for only twelve dollars a year.

Mozart has been filling my heart and days with joy. So much so that I’ll be taking violin lessons again, starting next week.

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When I opened this case again for the first time in a very long time, my eyes watered. Tears were shed. I began learning when I was around eighteen, and then life intervened; this was the case again when I was in my mid-thirties; but third time’s the charm, right? This has always been my favorite instrument. Nothing beats the violin. And I will play it.

I’m also learning Deutsch auch, because what Wolfgang wants, Wolfgang gets, ja?

The Mozart who’s now residing, who’s now firmly ensconced in my head has also been clamoring for Viennese pork schnitzel and sauerkraut, and he will be getting them.

Along with writing this story, I’ve been taking wig test shots, which has been yet more tremendous fun for me. The photo sessions I’ll be doing in the future will be, in essence, Mozartian author portraits.

In these photos, I was wearing the “if I could pick Mozart’s wigs” blue-grey wig.

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While I’m waiting for the incredible red Mozart suit my talented friend Nezumi is making for me, I’ll be experimenting with more wigs (I have a stack of them), and white shirts, and a red velvet robe (which will look especially fetching with my white, traditional 18th century style wig).

I also had fun creating the first issue of my ultra low-tech zine, Stay Home Vagabond, for my Patreon members. Stapling the two photocopied pages together was fabulously, viscerally enjoyable.

I’ve been doing better these days than I have in years. I feel good. I feel happy.

Yesterday, Mr P and I went to a local flea market, and it was fantastic. I got my hands on cherished records, such as Donna Summer’s Love to Love You Baby, and K-Tel’s 1977 Palmares Comique—an absolute treasure that is Québécois au boutte, ostie.

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And, wonder of wonders, both records are clean, no skipping. I have rescued historical jewels, and I intend to care for them as such.

More flea markets adventures will be happening this summer.

Incidentally, there was a glorious 70s-esque aura to our flea market expedition. Total environment bliss. There was a vibe to the place that pushed all the right buttons. At one point, I bought a really neat sun/moon necklace with wooden beads. The man at the table told me that his daughter (whom I’d spoken to not long after Mr P arrived at the flea market and began exploring) wasn’t there, she’d gone to get herself some fries. But he took the price tag off the necklace and said (in French), “Turn around, I’ll put it around your neck,” what was left of his cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth as he did so, and it was just so damn awesome. I was in my element.

Live your life.

Say cheese.

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