one word: spectacular

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

Things are good. Things are very good.

First of all, and most importantly, things have been tranquil. Relaxing. I’m starting to sense August in the air. It’s one of my favorite months: softly chirping insects all day long, slow days, a golden hue that announces imminent autumnal delights… Slow days, hushed days.

I’d been needing this badly.

I’m at work on Hit the Road, which will be completed by the end of August.

As far as the news and ongoing world nuttiness are concerned, my motto is Adam Savage’s: I reject your reality and substitute my own. The planet can get back to me once it’s gotten its shit together again.

I’ve had enough difficulties coping with this year as it is. I can only buy so many bottles of Jack Daniel’s over here.

But as I’ve already mentioned, my stress levels have been decreasing, more or less. There’s been a return to normalcy that’s helped tremendously. And in many ways, life has never, ever been better.

In August, we’ll be celebrating the sixth month anniversary of a Most Glorious Event.

The other day, I received my vintage 1977 Play-Doh Burger and Malt Shop, and it’s now displayed next to my work desk. The sight of it fills me with continuous bliss, like a cascading joy fountain.

My burger and fries Num Noms are perfect companions for this treasure.


I have other treasures on the way. A vintage Fisher Price A-Frame house (the fireplace! The yellow kitchen! The sliding transparent doors!), and vintage Fisher Price school house (I plan to store small journals and notebooks in it).

I got a vintage item as a gift for a cherished loved one too.

When it’s not toys, it’s disco and New Wave records.

As I’ve said before, I’ve been on a rescue operation, retrieving my happy moments from my past like a scavenger on a mission. I’m taking back what was stolen from me and cutting away the horrors that nearly swallowed me up whole.

I’m saying, this is MY life, and I’m taking what’s rightfully MINE. I’m reclaiming all my joys, whatever form they took.

It’s like, you know, if you once lived in a dark place, a dangerous, threatening place. On the outside, it looked like a perfect dream, like a gingerbread house covered with bright candy and soft icing, right? That was a facade, something for those outside to marvel at, something whose purpose was to create the illusion of benevolence and devotion. But its architect was a demented ogre, and you and your loved ones were confined in it, prisoners, hiding as best you could in the shadows, in the corners, trying to fashion your own small sanctuaries to the extent it was possible, trying to hang on, knowing there were booby traps concealed in the hallways and main areas—anywhere, in actuality.

Over and over again, you’d hear how “ungrateful” you were for not appreciating your prison and its “generous” tyrant.

Well I’ve been salvaging everything precious to me, everything I can still have, from that place, however I can.

I’ve been taking my childhood and adolescence back. I’ve been purging them of the slime that choked them.

I’ve escaped from the blob.

Whatever made me happy, whatever helped me survive, I’ve been taking it all back. Everything I can find. Tokens, objects, moments, reasonable facsimiles. And my memories focus upon who and what made me smile.

I’m living my life, my way. I’m reliving it my way.

I’m rewriting it, erasing whole paragraphs from it. Chapters even. I’m erasing them and yet not removing them.

This is very empowering.

I proclaim that my life is mine and I am mine. I’m not a possession. I’m not a puppet with strings. I have cut the strings and thrown them in the garbage: I am a real, live person, with my own thoughts and desires and voice. My power.

My thoughts and desires and voice, my person, my self, are real and they matter.

I am not invisible.




Another thing I got my hands on this week is a 1975 Eaton’s holiday catalog.

This is from a 1973 Sears Wish Book.

In the 70s, you could buy a combination fake fireplace and stereo system. Yet another reason I adore this decade.


One word: spectacular.

You want to visit WishbookWeb, trust me.

Or how about decorating your bar or office or van with empty soda cans? I love this idea. 1977:


In other news, I’ve been watching all the episodes of Married with Children oh most gleefully. It was such a subversive show. I have no end of admiration for all the people on this show, who were willing to do the most ridiculous shit and who did so with such gusto. It was good ridiculous shit. Cathartic ridiculous shit.

And on this fine note, back to work on my book.

Say cheese.



living what I love

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

Well, I’m officially back to work on Hit the Road and Be Who You Are, and it’s going great. This is a fun, liberating book to write. Very liberating.

I want it finished by the end of August. Thankfully, everything is pretty mellow around here these days. Whew. July is shaping up to be a wonderful month weather-wise.

The Internet has changed a lot these past few years. So have I. And I’ve decided that as far as blogging goes, I’m going to focus on this one. This is my main website, and it’ll be the hub of my blogging activity. There’s just no use spreading myself thin with other blogs, especially since it seems most people don’t read many blogs online nowadays. I’ve tried having several thematic blogs, but it winds up being just more stuff to juggle, more stress really, for no good reason. So I’ll be concentrating my efforts and creativity on

If you want the latest news, my thoughts about this and that, this is the place to visit.

Patreon is an option I’m keeping in the back of my mind.

The Internet has become extremely visual. Therefore, apart from sharing updates and writing about life things, projects, my books, and so on over here, I’ll be posting more self-portraits and photos.

Expect more polyester shirts, bling, and lipstick. Genderfluid disco sessions. And suits, of course. Suits and ties, always. Let’s not forget the silver bling Snape coat session, and that champagne disco dress. Oh, that’s going to be a blast.

I took these yesterday night. I was wearing a “bronze coin” L’Oréal lipstick.




There’s some Rimmel lipstick in my future. And photos of me wearing three-piece suits with ties and lipstick.

My priorities are putting out more books—short books—and posting artistic self-portraits, and yes, there’s those photocopied booklets, it will happen, because real things in the mail is beautiful. I’ll be firing up that Instamax camera of mine soon as well; those instant “Polaroid” type pictures are so earthy and fabulous. I’ve seen a number of those online lately, and they enchant me.

Twitter and Instagram are two other places where I’m quite active online. I use Twitter on a daily basis, and Instagram fairly often.

More macramé will happen too. If not this summer, then in the fall. Autumn is the perfect season for knot-making.

I’ve gotten much better at prioritizing, you know? At deciding what I want to devote my time and energy to, what matters most to me, what gives me the most joy and satisfaction and tranquility.

I’m not the least of my concerns anymore. Thank fuck.

Speaking of tranquility, one place I’ve been enjoying online is Pintarest. I love collecting images there. It’s fun and relaxing. I share photos there as well.

This week, I added more excellent vinyl to my collection. There’s disco, and New Wave. My 1976 Looney Tunes album arrived, and it sounds like I could have bought it yesterday. Amazing. The other day, I got my hands on this record, another childhood favorite, on Discogs:


This is pure, unadulterated happiness right there.

And then there’s this magical bit of happiness:


Thank you eBay! A vintage Burger and Malt Shop Play-Doh set, one of my favorite childhood toys. With the box even, and all the parts. Seven bucks, my friends.

Toy altars are the only altars I want.

I know what I love about life. I’m living what I love.

Say cheese.


I’m a gambler

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

There’s a Hula Girl on my Dashboard now has forty-three reviews—one step closer to fifty…

I’m busy with a Thing this weekend. I’ve been somewhat stressed out because of it, but everything turned out well and I’m very relieved. I am extremely protective of the person the Thing involved (this is one Thing among a number of Things that have been taking place since the beginning of the year), and am caring for this loved one in every manner that’s possible.

We don’t see eye to eye as far as a few matters go, but it’s absolutely inconsequential. No one agrees about everything. In this instance, what we agree about is greater than our differing points of view. Our bond is greater and more important.

As I’ve mentioned before, there are a lot of people who understand next to nothing about the mechanisms of domestic violence. About psychological captivity. Why do you stay in a prison without walls?

There is one who dangles the keys in front of your face, there is one who’s locked the invisible door, there is one who has you trapped and who conditions you with every subtle, identity-crushing method imaginable until you’re unable to move a muscle, until you doubt yourself utterly and are in a permanent state of fear and eventually don’t even realize you’re constrained because you’ve been terrorized into believing that whatever happens is “your” doing: the perpetrator.

The perpetrator alone is to blame. The type of individual who says, “You made me do it. It’s because of you, what you are, what you aren’t, what you do or don’t do, what you think or don’t think—and all you are and should be and should do is subject to change without notice depending upon my psychopathology.”

Life can be complicated. And relations with people you love always have specific challenges. As the song goes, you have to know when to hold ’em, and know when to fold ’em.

Every gambler knows
That the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away
And knowin’ what to keep

I certainly know what I’m throwing away and what I’m keeping.

There is a coping device that helped my loved one hold it together in the midst of absolute fucking shit, a device I myself thought would help me, but it didn’t. At all. Sure. Like I said, life isn’t a straight-forward affair.

The coping device in question is one I’ve personally found almost entirely and inherently problematic. I believe this device is a wolf in sheep’s clothing and harms those it claims to assist.

I do, however, know one thing. The coping device is a separate issue. Our misery had its origin in one source, and one source only: the perpetrator, an individual who regularly blamed his targets for his behavior and the anguish it caused. An individual who knew where their vulnerabilities lay and how to use it against them, who trained them to blame themselves, who made sure they were helpless, who cut their wings and said “You’re worthless because you can’t fly.” That is where the responsibility lies.

I’ve known this since I was old enough to think.

This individual can basically rot for all I care.

And that’s all I’m going to say. If you’ve read my work, I imagine you can figure it out. Don’t understand a situation like the one I’ve described? Move on.

There are “causes” that would grind up the purported objects of their solicitude.

Causes often have a way of doing that.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve always been and will always be an outsider.

I don’t skate the edge; I am the edge.


On that note, it’s a lovely summer’s day, and I’ll be doing happy stuff today. Quiet, tranquil stuff. And carefully watching over a beloved somebody. We’ll be celebrating a Sixth Month Anniversary soon.

I updated my personal blog Apostate Island yesterday, and today too:

satanic agenda


Take a peek. New polyester shirts and vinyl records.

Time to clean up the house a bit. I got some chillout playing, I got my oil diffuser making the air fragrant.

Say cheese.


Atheist Tiki Hour

Kris really zeroes in on what the book is all about, what I hoped it would convey. I’m very grateful for his kind review.

The Gravy Age

Atheist Tiki Hour is the new book from Logospilgrim, an author whose previous book, There’s A Hula Girl On My Dashboard, I wrote about (here). Pour yourself a drink, and follow me past the jump, and let’s kick back for a few.

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unconventional voice

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

Summer is very slowly beginning over here. Very slowly. At least I’m not freezing all the time anymore, so there’s that.

I changed my mind about this whole Wattpad thing. It just doesn’t work for me; I’m not feeling it at all. So The Rollicking Adventures of an Unrepentant Tomboy will be as I originally planned, a book with a series of personal essays, written the way I feel most comfortable writing.

I’m only one review away from forty reviews for There’s a Hula Girl on my Dashboard: How I Left Faith Behind and Embraced Life, and increased Amazon visibility. It would really mean a lot to me if I reached this goal in time for my birthday in a couple of weeks… Even one or two lines on would make a phenomenal difference. My first book with forty Amazon reviews: it’ll be the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me since I began writing and publishing books.

Reviews really matter, especially when you’re an independent writer. I’m deeply grateful to everyone who’s taken the time to do this and helped me come closer to this vital goal. No two ways about it… Caring is reviewing. There are even people who resubmitted their review more than once because of Amazon bugs: I have no words.

Wait! I just found out that yet another caring reader who enjoyed the book will be reviewing it. I can’t emphasize enough how much this means to me, how important it is. Reviews put the book out there; shared enthusiasm is a book’s life-blood. And the more, the better.

This is how non-mainstream voices come to be heard—and in an era of monolithic corporations and homogeneity, such voices are more essential than ever.

Although in the coming two or three weeks my attention will be focused upon a “real life” matter (nothing bad), I am getting back to work on this cherished project (which I began at the end of last year, if I remember correctly):

Cafe Sign and Old Car on Route 66

Last week, I took a series of self-portraits featuring one of my treasured vintage polyester shirts and King’s Road jacket. And ultra cheap but awesome gold bling.

Because I’m gold and I’m celebrating it. I’m recognizing it. I’m affirming it.

I’ll be creating a gallery for these 70s flavored shots soon, but in the meantime, here are a few of them:









One of these photos will be on the back of Hit the Road and Be Who You Are.

I’ll be doing a session for the photo that will be on the back of Severus Snape and the Art of Being Human soon. I’m looking forward to that one. It’s basically going to be a “me wearing a vintage shirt (green!), silver mirrored sunglasses, a crapload of silver bling, and my Snape coat and pants” self-portrait. That book will be about things I experienced during my Professor Snape years and shaped me as a person. From “Orthodoxy” to atheism, baby. The smashed jar of cockroaches will be a central theme. It’s going to be another very personal, raw, joyful book.

I want to finish Hit the Road before the summer is over; Art of Being Human will be my autumn project.

And I’ve definitely not given up on my photocopied booklets project. This another reason I’m not doing the Wattpad thing. No matter how much I try (and I’ve tried), I just can’t spread myself beyond a certain limit. That’s just how it is. And I’m finally okay with this.

Also, you know, macramé. I have these fabulous 70s wooden beads I want to use for a few wall-hangings…

My limits are fine. My yes to this, no to that is fine.

I want to share my happiness, the joy and liberation I’ve come to know, and so I’ll continue writing my small books (because independently published books are expensive, but they’re cheaper if you keep them short!). But there’s another thing: I’ve come to believe that hey, it’s fine to write short books. Nothing wrong with that. Doesn’t make me any less of a writer.

Eight hours later: there are forty reviews for Hula Girl on Amazon, but the total count still shows up as “39”. I’m exhausted as fuck, drunk, discouraged. Does Amazon have a problem with the reviews the book has gotten? Is something fucking up somehow? I’m used to having shit I want being yanked away from me, to seeing it mere inches from my reach, so near yet so far. I’ve worked and waited over two years for this moment.

Also, peri-menopause, and everything that’s been going on since the beginning of the year, is wiping the floor with me right now. Sometimes, stuff catches up with you. On the plus side, guess what fucking holiday I won’t have to acknowledge this weekend (or ever again).

This morning: when Mr P saw me last night, he could immediately tell that I wasn’t feeling especially well. I don’t feel down often at this point in my life, but last night I was as low as I’d been in a while. I slept a lot last night; I still look pretty terrible.


I’m much better. Vastly much.

I am buying cake today, to go with the candles shaped like a 4 and a 0 that I bought yesterday afternoon (when I was holding out against hope), and the little Tiki drink paper umbrellas. There will be cake today. And there will be celebration.

I will take a picture of this cake.


I would like to thank, from the bottom of my heart, the forty-two people who reviewed the book and who have given me this tremendously important moment in my writing career (well, you know, I’m not sure career is the word… My writing whatever maybe, because I hardly know what it is I’m doing).

Thank you for doing this. For reading the book and writing a few words about it. Thank you for increasing my Amazon visibility for the first time in a decade of writing. This is the best gift I’ve ever been given (my birthday is in ten days).

Thank you for helping me feel that my writing is worthwhile. Thank you for putting the book out there.

C.A. Allen
Cindy A. Salgado
The Thoughtful Sehlat
Amazon Customer
Amanda Hickerson
Mara Tesler Stein
A. Spielman
Amazon Customer
Chad Jay
Jennifer Thompson-Thalasinos
Book Lady
Liz Hamilton
Iron Lynx
Dan Gillespie
Kristoffer Peterson
Carl D. Smith
Amazon Customer
Courtney Heard
M.S. Cook
Nicole M.
Autumn Sky
Roger Griffiths
April thrailkille
Lorrie Kim
Dan D.
Stéfan Lévesque
Dave Beirnes
Jim Resident
Amazon Customer

I would also like to thank the bloggers, podcasters, authors, and journalists who contributed the first editorial reviews I ever got:

Sean McGuire, Share a Slice with Sean (My Secret Atheist Podcast)
Joshua Kelly, O Your god! The Evil Idea That Is Religion
Stephen Knight, The Godless Spellchecker Podcast
Godless Mom, blogger
Mikki Gorman, Frank Magazine
The Atheist Pig, cartoonist

I would like to thank the following podcasters, who interviewed me about the book as well:

The Intellectual Saviors
The Free Thought Prophet

And I would like to thank The Positive Atheist, organizer of The Non-Conference. I signed more copies of a book of mine (in this case, it was Hula Girl) at his event than at any other.

I would also like to thank The Centre for Inquiry for giving me the opportunity to speak about the book.

Next stop: fifty reviews. If you enjoyed the book and would like to join in the party, please do so.

Today I’m going to relax. I’m going to have a Mama Burger tonight, and cake, and I’m going to use my Sage diffuser, and play soothing chillout and spa music, and treat myself excellently all day.

Again, deep gratitude to everyone who made this milestone possible.

Tomorrow, I’ll get to work on chapter two of Hit the Road and Be Who You Are.

Say cheese.


flowing thoughts

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

It’s a warm day here, the sun is shining, and life has been slowing down, all of which is excellent.

And at the moment, there’s the sweet smell of cut grass in the air…

Allow me to share the latest.

I am now on Wattpad. I’ve decided to turn The Rollicking Adventures of an Unrepentant Tomboy into an ongoing Wattpad project. My goal is to update it twice a week. You can read the first bit here. My thoughts flowing, basically.

I recently acquired a few things I’ll be using for my independently published photocopied booklets.

The first is this:


I’ll put a few Instax photos on the cover of my booklets.

Second, there’s this:


This will appear at the bottom of my booklet covers.

I want these publications to be very, you know, physical. Hence the instant film camera, and stamp and ink pad. And the whole booklet being handwritten and photocopied.

I’ve also decided that the booklets will be the size of regular sheets of lined paper, so 8.5 X 11 inches. A nice, large size.

They’ll be available on my Renouveau 70 website. They’ll probably be around five dollars each, plus shipping (which won’t be much), and payment will be through Paypal, and/or Square, and I’ll accept money orders too. So I’ll be getting a P.O. Box soon.

In other news, I recently got a whole bunch of cheap bling for photo sessions. These sessions will be very genderfluid. I even plan on doing what I’m calling a Disco Drag shoot which will feature a champagne dress with a plunging neckline.

A couple of weeks ago, I experimented with my smart phone camera, gold bling, big sunglasses, my 70stastic gold jacket, and lipstick.




Have I mentioned how much I love the 70s?

Last week, I had dinner with a friend, and wore some green velvet with one of my treasured vintage polyester shirts. And gold chains, naturally.


I got lots of silver bling, too. That’s going to be for the kickass “Logospilgrim wearing her Professor Snape coat and pants with a 70s polyester shirt” (probably the shirt above) author picture that’ll be on the back cover of Severus Snape and the Art of Being Human. I’m pouring myself into that book.

Unfortunately, Imzy is going bye bye. I was quite saddened when I heard the news. So I’ll be blogging here, and on Apostate Island, more often. I also got a Pinterest account for some reason. I’m not sure how much I’m going to use it, but anyway. My most active social networking accounts remain Twitter and Instagram.

I continue to shut out most of what’s going on in the world these days. I am so sick of it all. I’ll hear a snippet here and there, and it’s like, holy fuck. I’m just going to be over here, preserving my sanity as best I can until rainbows prevail over shit storms.

For instance, I’m listening to “Wish You Were Here” right now. The window is open, and I’m thinking about macramé, self-portraits, and my booklets, and increasing my vinyl collection, and summer joys.

Say cheese.



Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

It’s been a nerve-wracking few weeks over here. I’m happy and relieved to report that my home didn’t get flooded re: historic floods in Quebec. The water stopped about two blocks away from the house, and we don’t live that close to the river. The floods have been mind-blowing to say the least. Mr P’s workplace was closed for almost a week because part of the building was affected, and the power had to be shut down.

So, all of this peril and uncertainty was exhausting. When you already have PTSD and something like this is going on, you’re already at a strong disadvantage. Last Tuesday, when they said we might be getting more heavy rains this weekend—we aren’t, thank fuck—I couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed my bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

Life was already intense because of the Event (a good, long overdue Event, but also difficult in some ways, and still ongoing) that happened almost three months ago now (more details eventually). So yeah. I’m at full capacity over here.

With things slowly going back to normal, I’ll finish what I began a couple of weeks ago, namely, cleaning and clearing out the basement (a task I’d been meaning to do for some time), and turning my attention, once again, to Hit the Road and Be Who You Are and Severus Snape and the Art of Being Human. And then, The Rollicking Adventures of an Unrepentant Tomboy.

I got myself a new work bag this week.


If you follow my Twitter and Instagram accounts, you know that I’ve been doing a fair bit of cleaning and clearing and beautifying this spring, which helped me deal with the chaos. The 70s are a never-ending source of delight and inspiration to me. I’ve been adding a bunch of books about the 70s to my library.

It’s a positive headspace for me.

There is so much about which I no longer give a single fuck and boy, what a liberation this has been. I’m finally living my life.

The last macramé wall-hanging I made was around the middle of February, because of the Event I mentioned above and everything that ensued from it (PTSD, rage and exhilaration, covert operations, many many activities and yada yada), and then spring went to shit because of the weather, oh and right before that, splendid ink… This photo was taken right after the session, and she’s healed beautifully. Love my hula girl.


So anyway, more macramé wall-hangings soon because I fucking love macramé wall-hangings.

And more portrait sessions soon as well. Yesterday I did a bunch of stuff and was too tired for much more than a quick sample shot of my vintage King’s Road leisure jacket, but holy crap it’s going to be fun when I get down to taking real photos. This jacket is the bomb. So suave, so greasy, so pure. I love that.


The 70s, they speak to me. They’re after my own heart.

Stuff I’m looking forward to this summer:

  • more macramé wall-hangings
  • fulfilling self-portrait sessions featuring genderqueer/vintage/groovy clothes and, with any luck, seedy and scenic locales
  • spending time with loved ones especially close to my heart
  • junk food at cabanes—gimme dem hot dogs and good as fuck fries
  • publishing new books
  • maybe celebrating, at long last, forty reviews for Hula Girl on my Dashboard and Amazon boosting the damn thing after I’ve worked so hard for so many years
  • being home
  • tranquility
  • warm fucking weather
  • visiting the local farm market and buying fresh vegetables and fruit
  • doing my thing
  • listening to the gorgeous sound of gorgeous vinyl records
  • not giving a shit about what I “should” be interested in

It’s a more or less comprehensive list.

Oh yeah, and I’ll be wrapping up my first zine soon too.

Say cheese.


it’s a celebration

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

So here’s my blogging/online situation these days.

I post general news items here, on my main site (stuff about my books and various projects etc), and some personal thoughts.

I’ve been reblogging posts from my two other blogs here, but I won’t be doing so anymore. I think it’s redundant. If you find said blogs interesting, go right ahead and follow them. I plan to blog there more regularly than I do here.

Apostate Island is my personal blog. Sort of my new Livejournal.

Renouveau 70 is the blog where I sing the praises of the 70s, and where I share photos of my macramé art. My zine will be available there for purchase too (eventually).

Other than that, you can find me (in order of how often I use these platforms) here:




That’s how I do the internet now. It works for me.

My new ink is healing well, as usual, and I adore my hula girl.

Yesterday, I had to get some milk and assorted food items, just a few things. Before I did this, I decided to go to the small local mall and walk around a bit.

I’m so glad I felt like wandering, because I found a mind-blowingly funktastic gold jacket. The fact that it was also seventy percent off, and thus cost a little over sixteen dollars, sealed the deal. This is about as 70s as it gets.


I’ll be taking more elaborate self-portraits with this coat in the near future.

Adding gold and polyester to my wardrobe is something I’ve been enjoying immensely. It’s one of the ways I’ve been celebrating life in general, and my life in particular.

Say cheese.