creativity, variety, serenity

Spring… It’s almost here. Sort of. There are still a few mounds of snow and ice in front of the house, but at least when I come home now, it’s starting to feel a bit less like I’m entering the Bat Cave, North Pole edition.

The weather has stabilized, which has been extremely good for my nerves.

Lately, my levels of creativity have reached all-time highs. Which has also been extremely good for me overall.

One of my macramé wall-hangings has become part of the fabulous décor at one of the best record stores in town, The Record Centre (photos soon). It’ll be displayed next to a rad vintage painting.

This is the macramé in question:

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And the macramé art piece below is now for sale at The Record Centre. If you live in the Capital Region, add some serenity to your home with a lovingly crafted, hand-made macramé, and grab a few excellent records while you’re at it:

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Knots are also symbolic of protection. A home with macramé is a happy home.

In addition, The Record Centre has its own label and produces records you’ll find nowhere else. I’ve been playing the atmospheric, trippy record Water Sine by Nick Schofield non-stop since I acquired it last week.

This week, I experimented with painting my clay figurines and I’ve worked out the best way to do it. Stay tuned for a lot more clay art; my Patreon members will have first dibs on these pieces.

Here’s my first petit lapin bonheur, a good fortune bunny, with its strawberry. I’m keeping this one.

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Petit lapin bonheur quite at home with my vintage toys:

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Each petit lapin will come with a tiny treat.

Here’s another prototype eg; this one I’m keeping as well. It’s so relaxing to look at, and I love its tranquil presence on my desk. I only added glaze to this one. The next batch will feature small rosy cheeks, and the image on the back will add another touch of color.

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Working with cord and clay has infused my life with a great deal of joy. It’s extremely fulfilling. It’s no longer all about writing for me. It’s not the end all be all. The variety of my endeavors has increased my creativity and well-being. I’m not always “in my head” anymore. I do a lot of journal writing of course, but that’s different; my own pleasure is the sole objective. I’ve slowed down as far as publishing books goes. My current goal is to publish a new book every year or every other year. I’m no longer slave-driving myself to produce books, or promote my books (oh how that sucks)…

My existence has many more layers to it now. It’s much better.

Another immensely important level of creativity has been the violin.

Last week, my teacher surprised me by informing me that the show he’d told me about a few months ago was going to happen at the end of April. I kind of thought (hoped, haha) that he’d been too busy to have a show this spring, that it would take place at some hazy, indistinct point in the future… But not only is it happening, he asked me to do the animation (hand out programs and look adorable) as Charlie. I played “Smile” for him again, and he said, “Yes, that’s definitely what you’ll play. We’ll have one white spotlight on you and it’s going to be fantastic.”

That evening, while I was practicing, I began playing a piece from Chaplin’s Sunnyside by ear, from memory. A couple of days later, I searched for the Sunnyside soundtrack online, and discovered that this piece is called “Forgotten” and I’d been playing it exactly note for note. It was a profoundly emotional moment for me.

Then, yesterday, I upgraded my violin, trading in my beginner’s instrument, which I’d had for over twenty years, for a glorious replacement. My old violin was made of plywood (as I learned while chatting with the owner of the music school where I take my lessons); the new one is made of real wood, and it has an exquisite, deep, rich, creamy sound. It has a gorgeous matte finish, and came with a stupendous case. While I waited for Gilles to return with said case, I tuned the violin by ear. Once the instrument was secure in its velvet nest, I embraced the case as it lay on the counter. I was overwhelmed by bliss.

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I ran into my teacher before I made my way back home. I exclaimed, “Come look!!” with grand, excited gestures. He was very impressed when he saw the violin, and his eyebrows shot up when I told him about the Chaplin piece I’d learned to play by ear.

I recently had a lovely meeting with a local artist (DoReMiBraceletsEtc) who fashions unique jewelry from guitar and violin strings. I had a few unused strings (they were in my now old violin case), and she created a beautiful rainbow bracelet for me as we had beverages at Café Mulligan.

She took a photo of it while I held my old violin:

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How neat it that! It’s so well-made, custom-made to fit my little narrow wrist, and I adore the happy rainbow beads.

In other news, I recently gave a tarot reading; it was wonderful. I’ll be giving another one at the end of the month. Reading the tarot is most enjoyable to me, and I look forward to increasing the frequency of my readings.

So, life has been good. Better than ever. More joyfulness soon.

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the knotting resumes

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After a long hiatus due to Life and Things, we’re finally, at long last back in business, baby.

Yesterday, I completed my latest macramé art wall-hanging. I’ll be giving this one to a friend; she has a tarot reading appointment with me next week.

It felt so utterly magnificent to be crafting macramé again. Everything came back to me instantly. I love knotting cord. It’s so soothing. Making macramé is like sculpting with cord. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t use patterns; I start knotting and follow my inspiration.

I prefer pieces with a great deal of knots. That’s macramé to me.

Instead of fraying the hanging cords completely, as I’ve usually done for previous wall-hangings, this time I only frayed part of the cords. It gave the piece a kind of plant-like appearance that really spoke to me.

I also used some of my precious vintage beads for this…

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bring on the spring equinox

It’s almost the middle of February, right? March. March will be here soon.

I’ve been thinking happy spring thoughts because for the past few weeks, brutal winter weather has been kicking my ass and wringing me dry. Storms, piles of snow, freezing rain, freezing cold. Relentless shit. Right now, the sound fierce winds outside my window is making me shiver.

It’s all been chipping away at me. I have no energy. Simple day to day tasks are a challenge at the moment.

I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time hidden beneath blankets on the couch, and watching more movies than I have in a while.

And I stare at my toys a lot. My toys give me such joy.

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So anyway, I’m behind on a number of projects, especially Masterful, the main current project.

I am, however, on schedule as far as Patreon is concerned. Among other things, I’ll be sending my second and third tier members some old school Valentine cards this month. Patreon continues to bring a smile to my face. I love having exchanges with my subscribers, sending them physical copies of my work, sharing thoughts, photos, excerpts from my books, and news with them. It’s a pleasure. Once I get some of my energy back, even more so.

My Ello posting was short-lived, again. Mostly because I’ve had it with social media and virtual whatevers as a whole, the two exceptions being Instagram (my activity there is sporadic/moderate), and a breath of fresh air, a new platform for infernal-minded individuals, Undercroft. No algorithm driven bullshit, no data mining, none of the garbage that’s endemic online these days. No censorship, no idiocy. No conflict addicted jackasses, no click bait mindlessness. At last, an alternative to the sad outposts that now compose the vast majority of the Internet, that dreary corporate wasteland and batshit crusade factory.

Undercroft is actually interesting. What a novelty! And there are a few other worthwhile places, such as The Reprobate.

On that note, I need to go warm myself up, put on a few layers of sweaters, and organize my macramé supplies. In a couple of weeks, I’m giving a tarot reading (delayed due to weather etc).

Weather and exhaustion aside, in most ways, my life is better than it’s ever been. I savor my life and live it how I want to live it.

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a treat, and some thoughts

Here’s a chapter of Rascal that I shared on Patreon yesterday (a public post, for members and non-members).

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AVARITIA

(greed)

You desire, you indulge yourself, you relish good things, tasty things, rich things, colors and textures and scents—in this world.

Of course, it happens in this world.

This “fallen” world, according to some.

It’s not fallen. It’s the world, the real world, our only world.

A world of fire and water, of terrible storms and soft mornings, of loss and grief and joy and pleasure. A world of horrors and wonders.

What hurts us is terrible; what feels good is wonderful. This is natural.

It’s up to us to make this natural world as wonderful as it can be.

This won’t happen as long as we believe in the existence of an intangible, supernatural, otherworldly afterlife where nothing will ever harm us. An inhuman, unnatural world.

If you want to sell the story of invisible realms where everything is “perfect,” you need unhappy people. In this scenario, nothing is more problematic than a person who enjoys life and its pleasures. Even simple pleasures are troublesome.

Being happy and grateful in this world is to disdain the worthier, imaginary, divine panaceas.

Some people believe pleasure in this life is a sign of divine favor and a preview of the truly mind-boggling splendors awaiting humanity in the other world, the phantom dimension. Peddlers of cosmic mansions piously take the money supplied by countless people who hope they’ll start off with an opulent earthly mansion of their own as well.

The majority of religious systems don’t operate like this, though. They say, “Don’t worry too much if your life sucks. The next one will be better… as long as you do and believe what we tell you, that is.” They don’t want people to be utterly miserable, but they don’t want them too at home and content here on earth either.

Pick up your cross. Your begging bowl. Your mental hair shirt.

If you’re oppressed or abused, if you’re being treated abominably, rejoice. It’s a privilege, really, an opportunity, a blessing. Blood and suffering pleases the almighty; it’s his idea of a pleasant aroma. Tortured, stir-fried saints are held up as the most admirable of people, the most worthy of imitation.

If you’ve been abused, if you just barely manage to hold your traumatized mind together, if you’ve been told a million times that you’re worthless, a lot of crazy shit can make sense. A pie in the sky helps you survive and hang on a little longer.

Just remember: don’t be greedy. All the fat is the lord’s. Set your mind on the things above, not on earthly things.

Oh yeah?

Fuck the things that are above.

There are no such things.

Flush that mystical crap down the toilet.

Emancipate yourself. Believe in yourself. Avenge yourself.

Happiness in this world is a combination of luck and doing what you can so you and at least some of your fellow humans live as happy a life as possible. Happiness often requires a great deal of effrontery. You’re in pain, you’re going to die, things don’t go the way you want them to, but you dance all night anyway.

It’s tough. By fuck, life, being alive can be tough. Sometimes it seems like we’re always teetering on the edge of disaster, and we know the end is a breath away.

My philosophy is, have a glass of whiskey, smirk at the camera like a badass smart mouth decked out devil, and when the time comes to go over the edge, to take that final breath, think, well, it wasn’t all bad, was it? This ain’t so bad.

At least I lived. I had a moment.

I’m greedy for that moment. I want what the moment has to offer, all that my moment’s got.

This crucial greed means I figured out what I want, what I want my moment to be all about.

I want all that I’ve got, to be the star I am.

The greed I speak of involves risk. It involves the unknown. No one can decide what your life means for you. You have to decide. You have to choose.

You’re not being swept by a common wave. You’re not afraid of being alone. There’s no universal, one-size-fits-all solution. If you go where everyone else is going, you won’t experience your moment.

You’re drafting your map. Use what you have, change what you can, and create your best life.

Do whatever you can to enrich your life, to exult in yourself.

Each of us is our own ultimate earthly thing.

For too long, it was difficult for me to think this, let alone celebrate it. My mind was in a cage; my heart was bleeding from too many cuts.

It’s never too late to dare to turn your back on all the shit that brought you down.

To reclaim yourself: this is excellent greed.

Regardless of what any abuser tried to drum into you, you belong to yourself.

You’re not anyone’s possession.

You’re the captain of your existence.

Whatever you’ve been through, however much psychological conditioning you’ve endured, if you reach this liberating threshold, you can be sure self-ownership has always been there inside of you. You’ve always been a rascal.

They couldn’t quench your flame entirely. They couldn’t starve it forever.

The day I bust out of the mental jail of self-forgetfulness—of self-neglect and self-hate—the person I am began to shine forth into the world.

An outrageous, confident, inquisitive, playful, genderfluid, flamboyant, girl/boy tomboy.

A person who slowly but surely began to say “no” whenever it was needed. A person who said “yes” when she wanted to say it. My decisions were now in line with self-respect and true wisdom: human wisdom.

I stopped treating myself like a second thought.

No more torture, no more tears. No more damaging attempts to love everyone except myself. I stopped wondering if I was pleasing to a twisted, silent invisible it that required proof of my love by means of cruel, nebulous, and absurd tests. I loved those who deserved my love.

I adorned myself with gold necklaces and was a human being, flesh and bones, blood and water, at home on earth, my real home.

I am of the earth, and I love earthly things. I love myself.

The next few days are going to be impossibly frigid here, ugh. Mr P and I will be comfortably hidden from the elements tomorrow and Monday however, so there’s that.

I enjoy sharing photos on Instagram and I’d say it’s a new form of Livejournal (sort of) for me because a number of the people I knew on Livejournal are on Instagram, but the latter throttles its feed with algorithms or whatever, and of course the textual aspect of Instagram is minute, so… And it’s highly smart phone oriented. I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would want to be glued to those things all the time.

In related news, I’ll definitely be renewing my subscription to The Idler this year.

I started sharing things on Ello again, because it’s one of the few remaining platforms that celebrates the arts, unique, original thinking and creative freedom, and isn’t terrified of flesh.

But, as I’ve mentioned repeatedly, Patreon is my online focus these days. I greatly enjoy using that platform, and I enjoy the exchanges I have with fabulous members there. The enthusiasm and support of members invigorates me, it feels wonderful, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Masterful will be my best book yet. I am discussing Professor Snape in that book, but it’s not exhaustive character analysis by any means; it’s more of a personal memoir.

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Patreon post excerpt

These days, I’m very selective about how I bestow my time, and I’m protective of what fosters my well-being.

For instance, the other day I was puttering and organizing things in the living room, and I played a CD I hadn’t listened to in a very long time, an Enigma album, Le Roi Est Mort, Vive le Roi! As the music began to play, an incredible feeling of serenity flowed from my innermost being. I could remember, in my bones, a time when I did this every day, and it was simple. Satisfying. Quiet. I felt whole in my own space and time.

The Internet is useful, a good thing in many ways, but it can also be incredibly invasive. I fiercely guard myself against invasiveness in all forms at this point in my life. You never even hear the sound of the phone ringing in this house now. I completely agree with the editor of the excellent magazine The Idler, who calls for a restrained use of technology and social media; some things he says should be discarded entirely. Tom Hodgkinson’s How to Be Idle: A Loafer’s Manifesto is a personal bible of mine, along with the Satanic Bible.

All of this is another reason I love Patreon. It’s a sane platform. The notion of giving everything until I’m empty, yeah, that doesn’t fly with me nowadays.

For more, become one of my Patreon members.

It’s cold as fuck here right now. I’ll be adding more notes to my Big Book of Tarot today, and hiding from the elements.

The imagery and symbolism of tarot is incredibly appealing to me. Tarot study relaxes me (you never stop studying tarot). I’m looking forward to my first live reading in a while this month.

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technology, its woes, and lovelier things

Warning: rant below.

After having my head on my desk and taking deep breaths for a while, I thought I’d do what I always do when I’m upset: write.

Yesterday, I suddenly got an alert message from my Mac, warning me that in the not too distant future, I wouldn’t be able to use Mariner Write or open my Mariner Write files anymore.

I’ve had Mariner Write for over a decade. It’s the word processing software I’ve been using to write my books since I first began independently publishing my work.

Today, I do a few Google searches and learn more about this 32 bit vs 64 bit thing. Apparently, software is evolving into a 64 bit phase (“it’s better” or whatever), and this has been in the works for a while. News to me, but anyway. What the hell is 64 bit software, bla bla. Or 32 bit software. Or a bit.

I was just reading about this development some more, and while Microsoft hasn’t set a deadline for compatibility issues yet, Apple has: the fall of 2019 or so. So the push has been on for software developers to get with the program, ha.

I’m so grateful for my goddamn turntable right now. At least I know it won’t suddenly tell me, “Upgrade or you won’t be able to play your vinyl records anymore.”

So yesterday, I sent a panicked message to Mariner Write. At that point, I didn’t even know as much as I do now about this 32 bit and 64 bit situation. Apparently, this change is going across the board.

“I just got a message from my computer saying that the latest version of Mariner Write soon won’t be compatible with Mojave (10.14.4 or whatever, the very next update)—I’ve been using Mariner Write for YEARS and can’t do without it! Are you planning an update soon??”

I get the following response from Mariner:

Hi- We are still debating on whether we will be rewriting Write to 64 bit. We hope to have a decision in the next few months.

WFT? I’m supposed to keep using the software and simply hope I won’t end up having to reformat the files for my latest books while I’m still able to open said files?

“Hey there, we’re kind of thinking about maybe making our software compatible with your most recent OS, but who knows, cross your fingers! If not, oh well, have fun doubling your workload!”

Their website, incidentally, states that Mariner Write is compatible with Mojave. Which isn’t, however, going to be the case for much longer.

The more I think about the reply, the angrier and more anxious I get. I ruminate, worry about what other software I’ll now have to get used to, hopefully without problems when it comes to publishing upcoming works and so on.

If there’s one thing I love, it’s shit that’s up in the air indefinitely.

I send the following response:

I’m not exactly sure what there is to debate. You make software specifically for Mac users… And your software is about to become unusable and obsolete.

I won’t be waiting around until Mariner makes up its mind. I’ll be learning to use other software. Thanks for the memories.

I start tinkering with Pages… Pretty good. I’m adjusting to it fairly well. One of the reasons I began using Mariner Write in the first place was that Lulu said it had trouble with PDF files generated by straight up Mac software, but that was a long time ago, and I’m fervently hoping this is no longer the case…

I’m unhappy, but think, I’ll see this through. I’ll be fine.

I eat a nice meal with Mr P, have some wine. I’m feeling a touch better.

Until, that is, I see this reply from Mariner:

Actually there’s a ton to debate but that’s our issue, not yours.

Best of luck.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I just replied as follows:

Not mine? As I said, I’ve been using Mariner Write for over a decade. When I got that alert from my Mac, it was very upsetting. If Mariner Write isn’t rewritten to 64 bit (a change that’s been in the works for some time, as I gathered from Apple), I won’t be able to use Mariner Write anymore, and I won’t be able to open all the files I’ve created with Mariner Write up to now; I wouldn’t say this isn’t my issue as a user. I found Mariner Write wonderful to use, which is why it’s been my word processing software of choice all these years. I don’t change software on a whim. But what’s the point of trying to stick with it if its obsolescence is only a question of time, and not much time at that?

So anyway, good luck to you as well.

I purchased a lot of software from this company. But those days are over, I can tell you that.

Anyway, I’m going to relax now, think about happy things.

Apart from my delicious meal with Mr P, something else gave me profound joy today.

It was a message I got from one of my Patreon members.

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Here are a few more beautiful things before I sink into the couch:

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A gorgeous lapel pin (a gift for his Patreon members) and lovely note from the wonderful Reverend Campbell (Speak of the Devil Podcast).

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Another stunning lapel pin, courtesy of Shady Veneration. Some of the proceeds support (The Quintessentials) Reverend Hernandez’s medical funds.

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And speaking of The Quintessentials, their latest album is absolutely fantastic. First rate.

All right. Time for some much needed me time.

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2019: projects, desires, goals

As I’d hoped, the holiday season was an exceedingly pleasant time for me. And it helped me hone in on precisely what I want to do, how I want to live, in 2019.

My use of Twitter will continue being stripped down to the bare bones: sharing links to logospilgrim.com updates, Patreon updates, and a few retweets here and there. That’s it.

I’ll use Instagram a bit more, but not that much more, to share photos and keep in touch with certain people.

I will update my main website, logospilgrim.com, once or twice a month.

I’ll focus my online time on Patreon, as I wrote in my previous blog post.

I decided to make the physical material I send out to second and third tier members as simple as possible (though third tier members also get copies of everything I publish, and exclusive items): a monthly copy of my newsletter Quiet Times, and a copy of my zine Stay Home Vagabond, which I have simplified (shorter, artwork on the cover, handwritten, photocopied content, colored paper cover that’s easier to fold than cardboard). Creating, and mailing, physical content is quite time and energy consuming, and after I sent the last batch of zines, I was exhausted and felt overwhelmed at the mere thought of doing it again and again and again (for an increasing number of people!). The logical and practical solution was to simplify the zines, which are important to me and which I very much want to send to my Patreon members. I firmly believe in the importance of material creations, of physical products. And I have nice handwriting.

I recently gave my Patreon account a new look. The other thing I’ll be doing on Patreon in 2019: first tier members will have access to some of my blog posts, photos, and online essays, second tier members will have access to more of them, and third tier members to all of them. On occasion, a post will be accessible to members and non-members.

The Patreon model appeals to me tremendously. What I do is, indeed, worthy of support and remuneration.

The Internet evolved (if one may put it that way) into something that spouts the following harmful message: content must be free, unless it originates from a mega-wealthy giant corporation. Of course you need to pay to see a film and so on, but not if the film, the artwork, the text, and so on, was created by a “minor” person with little influence/funds/power etc.

Hence the heft of platforms like Twitter, Faceborg, and others. The whole idea is to profit from the efforts of users, who offer everything, or practically everything, they post for free: their ideas, thoughts, lives, moments, art, writing, creativity, their selves… Like hamsters on a wheel, they give these platforms life and momentum: the energy of users fuels advertisement-driven algorithms designed to keep users running on their wheels, going nowhere, while the platforms, who demand free content, gorge themselves on the spoils, on the lifeblood of users who are lulled into believing that virtual is better, that their lives, their identities, their creations, their relationships, are only worth something if they’re dumped into the all-consuming electronic stream. The “likes” are bait designed to hook users and give a spark of pleasure and reassurance to their brain. “Here’s your Monopoly money, you’re someone now! Have some Coke.”

As Tom Hodgkinson, the founder of the brilliant publication The Idler, puts it,

We are true believers in the “pay to subscribe” business model rather than the “free but you become a target for advertising” approach. Paradoxically, getting it for free leads to slavery where paying for it leads to freedom.

Tom, incidentally, wrote an excellent article about Faceborg, which you can read here: With friends like these…

And then, there’s the tyranny of electronic devices drawing us into an omnipresent virtual “reality”—you must always be available, always “on,” always answering, always listening, never “missing” anything. Pay attention to those alert sounds, pitiful serf. Your blood is drained away, and you begin nourishing yourself with the insubstantial feeds that scroll by without ever stopping. You become an addict, a drone, a slave. You’re flawed if you don’t keep up. You’re uncaring, defective, defunct.

Absent. As though you didn’t exist.

This is foolishness, and I won’t have it.

This year, I’ll write more books, starting with Masterful; I’m getting back to work on it this week. Then, there will be more. And I’ll write about what delights me. I’ll write short books in my rambling Beat poet way, and a number of them will only be available to patrons. Their support gives me vitality, resources, and encouragement. For less than the price of a cup of coffee a month, members have access to my work: that’s not too much to ask. Yes, I will have at least that much nerve. And I too support fellow creators there—it delights me to do so.

Patreon has given me a great deal of verve and confidence, more so than almost anything else since I began independently publishing my work. 2018 was my first year having a Patreon account; in 2019, I’m ready to make it into something marvelous.

I love to be alone, and I love to communicate. I resolve this paradox by writing. Writing is my activity, my voice, my lifeforce. And I value it, more so than I ever have. I value myself. I enjoy writing, but it also demands much of me, without even factoring in the depleting trivialities and stresses of daily life.

This year, apart from my writing, I’ll focus on playing the violin; reading tarot; making macramé (I stopped after certain incredibly intense and life-changing events took place, and I’ve only just begun to get my bearings back); reading; photography; creating art; enjoying my toy collection; enjoying my life how and where I choose. I’ll frequent local businesses, drink hot apple cider at vibrant nearby cafés, savor the silence at the local library, stroll down the main street with my backpack and notebook.

I feel good. Strong. I make decisions based on my needs, preferences, and aptitudes. I choose my life. I choose myself. It’s a good place to be.

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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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