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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