Masterful

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

December! Already. But it’s delightful. So quiet; at least, in my world it is.

This month, I’ll be working on my article for The Reprobate’s special issue Satan Superstar, and on my next book that will celebrate the glorious self-indulgent joys of solitude, Reveries of an Improper Solitudinarian. If anyone’s ever gotten on your case because you enjoy being alone, because you prefer being alone, you’ll relate to this book.

And now, allow me to share the cover of my upcoming book about Severus Snape. I scrapped Severus Snape and the Art of Being Human because I’ve outgrown that book. So, new title, new cover, new focus.

As I’ve said before, it’s going to be my last “me & Snape” book.

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This book will be a celebration of individuality and self-respect. I’ll write about how my understanding of Professor Snape evolved over the years, and how he helped me move through radically different stages of life. In many ways, this book will illustrate views that are the opposite of ideas I explored in my first three books about him, namely Bring Forth the Best Robes, The Flawed Master, and The Severus Snape Paradigm—the first two especially.

As I mentioned in my previous blog post, in my upcoming book Masterful, I’ll talk about why Severus Snape is such a controversial and divisive figure in the Potter world (and fandom). And the problem isn’t that once upon a time, he joined the Death Eaters.

The reason many still argue about him, his worth, his motives, is centered around the key to his identity. His defining characteristic, which is where all of his power resides and why people either love or hate him, relate to him or despise him.

Obviously, I won’t tell you what said defining characteristic is here. You’ll have to read the book, which I’ll be writing this winter.

I will share this: one of the things I’ll write about in the book is that he isn’t Dumbledore’s, or Voldemort’s, or even Lily’s.

All of this will be linked to how I’ve awakened to my own power.

As I wrote on Twitter, I am a goat. I have always been a goat. I was born a goat. I’ve never been on the right side of anything. I cross the line. I am the line, my line, an ungraspable line.

In other news, the colder months have been extremely sweet to me this year. I’ve been savoring the kind of blissful tranquility I hadn’t tasted in a long time. I live my life according to my rules now. I’m therefore much happier: I’m who I am.

There is something about me that has always been untamable, and nowadays it has free reign. It’s no longer impeded; it has burst free and it’s greater than before.

In other other news, net neutrality. Can it be saved? I have no idea.

To me, the Internet started dying when Facebook steamrolled all that was cool and unique online, replacing each creative space with its bland, uniform, terrible, devouring, “acceptable” pseudo-Internet instead. I tried countless platforms, hoping to find the Internet I once knew there, but again and again, I encountered an almost total lack of will for anything different; the almighty Jailbook is “easier.” Twitter had more room for creativity and subversiveness, but recently it’s become another bleak, nasty place (yet Twitter now clutches its pearls when users utter naughty words like “fuck”), unless you avoid most of it.

Mastodon has potential, but then again, so did Imzy, and it’s gone.

The Internet is no longer a place for nuance, for expression, for originality. It’s just another strip mall with half a dozen Starbucks, a cafeteria that serves canned peas and greasy, day old French fries and stale tacos to the bored masses that only seem to want more of the same. The “Internet” is a place where the majority of people are like the crowd in an episode of South Park: “Rabble rabble rabble!”

The Internet has been reduced to Facebook, Twitter, smaller platforms like Instagram and Tumblr, and dispersed blogs. And shopping.

Seriously, is there any point in weeping over the loss of net neutrality anymore? The corporate overlords have, for the most part, already taken over.

Here’s a related phenomenon, a phenomenon I find unpalatable: the popularity of the “Minion” films. Who the fuck wants to be a minion?

If net neutrality is compromised, maybe that’ll wake people up and we’ll see an Internet Renaissance. Or not. Who knows. In any event, should the former occur, I’ll continue tweeting, I’ll share pictures on Instagram, I’ll blog here. I may eventually start blogging on Patreon, where I have an account and support other fellow creators; this is a possibility.

The main thing is that I’ll continue publishing books, which will be on Amazon and here on my website, a WordPress blog.

The more time I spend offline, the less time I want to spend online in general. Offline, I read books, I listen to music, I write, I enjoy life. I used to enjoy myself online, but the Internet I once knew simply is no more, or it’s just barely there. Sometimes I wonder if it was ever really there. Or if I’d go back to what it “used” to be, for that matter.

This may well be why I enjoy blogging here.

I saw a meme of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on Twitter that sums up the Internet to me these days: “deviation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable.”

I am not exploitable.

When I wrote Rascal: A Manifesto, it was to proclaim that I am done with bullshit.

I’ve recovered the essence of who I am, and I’m stronger because of how much I fought to liberate myself from all that would have robbed me of my self, my individuality, my vitality. The essence of who I am, like a potent fuel, is burning brighter than it ever has.

Here at least
we shall be free; the Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
to reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.

Say cheese.

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reveries

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

Well, I’ve been sick for the past two weeks, and dealing with other issues (such as experiencing acute peri-menopause symptoms, which have been seriously interfering with my sleep), and although I only have two Krav Maga classes left, I won’t be able to finish the course; as stubborn as I can be, I simply haven’t been well enough this month. At least nowadays I have too much self-respect to completely drive myself into the ground.

I plan to take more classes this spring, after a reclusive, solitary winter.

This has been an exceedingly challenging year for me. There have been incredible changes; this has been excellent in many ways, but a number of these changes involved phenomenal amounts of stress.

I took this photo yesterday. I had a haircut that morning, the most social I’d been in a while.

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Many thanks to all who have been acquiring, reading, and reviewing my latest book, Rascal: A Manifesto. It would make a great gift for as many like-minded people on your Saturnalia list as possible, by the way.

Here are some exciting news: I will be contributing an article to Satan Superstar, a special issue of top-notch, outré British magazine The Reprobate.

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I’m not sure is this is going to be the final cover, but:

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To pre-order Satan Superstar, go here: https://reprobatemagazine.uk/satan-superstar/ It’s coming out at the beginning of 2018.

If you’d like to get copies of the first two issues of The Reprobate, please visit https://reprobatemagazine.uk/buy-the-reprobate/

These are fantastic, high-quality publications. Certainly not your run-of-the-mill and dull mainstream crap.

I’ll be writing about some of my weird religious experiences, among other things. So if you love my work, do pre-order a copy of Satan Superstar, which will be chock-full of exquisitely subversive and curious material by a slew of unique individuals.

I continue adding devilish books to my library. These arrived yesterday.

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Like I said, it’s going to be a very quiet winter for me, and I’ll have plenty of intriguing titles to read during the grey, snowy months, with Baroque music playing in the background.

And I’ll be watching favorite movies like the surrealistic, eerie Vampyr…

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This is my state of mind these days:

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Which brings me to my next short writing project, in which I’ll sing the praises of self-indulgent seclusion and discuss living the truly good life.

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This winter, I’ll turn my attention to my last Snape-centered book. I’ll share the new cover and title with you soon. I won’t be fucking around in that one, I can tell you. For one, I’ll discuss why Severus Snape is such a polarizing figure: why people endlessly argue about his motives, whose side he’s really on, etc. And the reason isn’t what most think it is. The problem isn’t that he joined the Death Eaters. The odds that I’ll be sharing my personal opinion of The Marauders (a bunch of pricks) is also very high.

So, on that charming note, I hope you’re enjoying November as much as I am.

Oh, one more thing: you can now find me on Mastodon.

Say cheese.

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Rascal: A Manifesto now on Amazon

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

I’m not feeling too fantastic right now, sore throat, I think I’m coming down with something, ugh. I’ll be going out briefly this afternoon to stock up on a few important supplies; then I’m going to hunker down and rest.

But I wanted to let you all know that my latest book is now available on Amazon!

Go here to get your copy, or click on the cover below:

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If you add the book to your library and enjoy my Rascal, please leave a short review on amazon.com—it makes a huge difference. Independent authors need this type of support; it’s vital. Apart from buying a copy of the book and telling others about it, there’s no better way to show your support and help me write more books.

I’m proud of this book. One person who’s read it has described it as “raw,” “bold,” and “in your face.”

I have a feeling I’ll be on my face for a few days. Oh well… It’s November, everything is quiet and grey, so being under the weather isn’t completely terrible.

Say cheese.

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new book available soon

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

I’m waiting for my proof copy of Rascal: A Manifesto, which I published yesterday.

The book should be available on Amazon around mid November.

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“To reclaim yourself: this is excellent greed.”
“It’s quite possible not to forgive and to move on.”
“Happiness often requires a great deal of effrontery.”
“Forgiveness isn’t a cure-all.”
“Love yourself enough that it’s too much for those who would drain you. Be a scandal.”
In her latest book, Rascal: A Manifesto, author and maverick Logospilgrim takes her readers on a tour of the so-called seven deadly sins and shares her thoughts on the power each of these “vices” has to liberate the mind, heart, and senses. Be an individual, own yourself, love yourself! Break your shackles and claim your earthly life.

Once it’s officially on Amazon, I’ll let you all know.

The book is sixty-two pages. Shorter books mean cheaper books. Also, they’re enjoyable to write, I find.

In other news, I’ve been reading excellent books like The Unique and Its Property by Max Stirner. I’ve been adding quite a few books to my library lately. I’m getting ready for tranquil winter hibernation. History books, philosophy, Gothic fiction, subversive magazines like The Reprobate will make for a fine, sublime reclusive winter.

Reading, writing, movies… Solitary delights. That’s where it’s at for me.

Next week, I’ll already be at work on my next writing project. I just have to decide which one it’ll be.

Have some green and gold.

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November is right around the corner and I’m glad about this. November is so quiet. Leafless trees, grey skies… Everything is hushed, just the way I love it.

Since this has been an exhausting year, I need hushed everything. Disruptive bullshit makes me growl.

Movies I’ve been savoring: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Vampyr. November movies, you could say. This afternoon, I’m probably going to watch Carnival of Souls again.

Say cheese.

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new book: raising a little hell

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

Get ready for some excitement…

First, I hope you’re all having a beautiful autumn.

I’ve been enjoying the normal, most relaxing weather we’ve been having lately very much indeed. Apart from a few days of extreme heat at the beginning of September, the weather has been blissfully familiar. Quiet. It’s cooler, the sunlight is golden, the rain we’re getting now and then is soothing…

All right. News.

I’m taking a Krav Maga self-defense for women class. It ends at the beginning of December, but I already know how to break a man’s jaw with my head after maneuvering a knife away from my throat. This class has been phenomenal PTSD therapy. One of the most important aspects of Krav Maga is to be angry and aggressive. This has been very good for me. I’ve had no problem being angry and aggressive and dispatching would-be attackers with as much brutal ferocity as I can dish out.

Sometimes, you must be ferocious.

I’m standing my ground as I never have before. In this vein, I’ll have a new book out soon, and I’m happier with this project than anything I’ve done so far.

Here are a few excepts from this book:

“To reclaim yourself: this is excellent greed.”

“It’s quite possible not to forgive and to move on.”

“Happiness often requires a great deal of effrontery.”

“Love yourself enough that it’s too much for those who would drain you. Be a scandal.”

Here’s another:

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This book is about living your life your way, unapologetically. Celebrating your life, loves, needs, desires. Tossing garbage out.

And here it is:

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I finished the first edit yesterday. Today, I’ll be making all the corrections and adjustments to the text, then it’s on to the second edit. The book is a little over sixty pages, and extols the liberating power of so-called vices.

Last night, I took a few portraits to express how cathartic this book has been to me.

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I love my life now.

As soon as the book is available, I’ll be letting you all know.

Rascal distracted me from my small monthly project (see the first book in that series, The Corner Store Epiphany), but anyhoo. I’m thinking that I’ll put a booklet out when I’m not already working on something else.

Deep gratitude to everyone who continues to support my work.

Apart from this, I’ve been taking excellent care and spending a lot of time by myself. I’ve been reading quietly, watching movies (like “Only Lovers Left Alive” and “The Neon Demon”), scribbling while ensconced in the couch, eating comfort food… It’s good.

Say cheese.

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quiet season

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

September is settling in beautifully. The quiet days, the plethora of school supplies…

The first issue of my monthly rambles is now available on Amazon.

Allow me to share the blurb for this series again:

Logospilgrim, prolific writer and disco tomboy, has embarked upon a series of short books that will be released on a monthly basis. She shares candid, maverick thoughts about the small joys of life, being who you are, personal freedom, and much more in her unique, unapologetic stay home vagabond poet style. These books are the written equivalent of instant photographs. Join her on the road to nowhere and everywhere.

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Many thanks to all who are buying a copy.

This past week, I’ve been dealing with a (recurring, sadly) ear problem that culminated in a sleepless night and weeping early this week. There’s nothing like feeling,  for days on end, as though half of your head is about to implode. This comes with the territory when you have twisted ear canals, but it had been a while since it’d been this bad. Fortunately, the situation has improved drastically and I’ve stopped wishing I could pour acid down my left ear.

I am exhausted, however, and this is going to be a mighty quiet month. Season.

Yesterday, because I’d been so miserable, I treated myself to a copy of Crimson Peak on DVD. I can’t see that film often enough… It’s gorgeous, captivating. Along with the film, this:

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She’s my dream girl. And since the Funko Pop figure came in that ethereal nightgown of hers and with her flowing, wavy blonde tresses, well, I had to have it. She’s even holding the golden candlestick.

Otherwise, things are good. I’m keeping to myself a lot because I’m especially in need of it these days—this year.

Say cheese.

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new project

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

So, it’s almost the end of August. Which is great. I’m really looking forward to autumn… Spring and summer this year: exhausting as fuck, mostly because of the loony weather. It’s nice and cool today, and this feels fantastic.

Hit the Road: I’m not anywhere near having finished this book, BUT I will have a new book out soon.

I’ve begun a new project, and I’m quite excited about it.

It involves a series of short books, 36 pages in length, one per month. It’s like a kind of literary magazine or something.

Here’s the blurb:

Logospilgrim, prolific writer and disco tomboy, has embarked upon a series of short books that will be released on a monthly basis. She shares candid, maverick thoughts about the small joys of life, being who you are, personal freedom, and much more in her unique, unapologetic stay home vagabond poet style. These books are the written equivalent of instant photographs. Join her on the road to nowhere and everywhere.

And here’s the cover of the first issue, titled The Corner Store Epiphany:

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I went for a simple, 70s-inspired look. I’m thinking that the front cover colors, and the back cover photograph, will change each year. Haha, I’m already hopeful this project will endure for years… I think it just might, though. This is the first time I’ve written exactly what I wanted to write, and it felt wonderful working on this short book. I’m already looking forward to the next one. Same cover, different title.

The August 2017 issue is available on lulu, and will be available on Amazon as well in a few weeks. It’s only available in print form, in keeping with the spirit of this series.

Allow me to reiterate how good I feel about this project. As usual, I’m unsure whether it’s crap or not, but whatever. Doing it anyway. Doing it my way.

My writing in a nutshell:

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I’m still pretty worn out re: this whole year. Fortunately, I’m much, much better at taking care of myself.

My record collection keeps expanding. I’ve got Heaven 17 on the way, more disco, more New Wave. Vinyl rules so hard. Every time I go to one of the local record stores, there’s more vinyl, new and old. This thrills me to no end.

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Digital can be useful, but it can’t be everything. I think the hawkers of digital (“enjoy your convenient nothing”) are realizing it can’t be everything. For the most part, digital can blow me, to be perfectly blunt.

I’ve rediscovered the absolute joy of portable radios. That wondrous “tinny” sound transports me right back to days when songs like Born to Be Alive were new. Last night, I was working on something or other, and Funkytown came on a fave local station: my heart skipped a beat. Streaming simply does not compare.

My small Sony AM FM portable radio will be joined by a Panasonic AM FM radio (that I’ll be able to plug in), and a pocket Philips AM FM radio that’ll go in my Fjallraven backpack.

Bags are happiness.

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And check out these sweet vintage Snoopy plates… Snoopy is everything.

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I am still working on a photocopied zine too. Thinking it might be a bi-monthly or quarterly thing, because they take more time to produce…

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Which reminds of another recent old love: instant photography. My Instax 9 fills me with pure ecstasy. Every time a small semi-fuzzy photograph emerges from the top of the camera, I want to do a little dance.

Here’s a photo I took the other day. 80s tomboy, baby.

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Speaking of the 80s, I can’t wait to get my hands on this thing of beauty:

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Gaston forever. Agendas are my happy place.

So, all in all, everything’s good. I’m creating, resting, taking a fatigue/stress tonic, enjoying my life and my home. Not putting up with bullshit. Doing what I need to do to live with PTSD: setting limits, reinforcing my barriers, giving priority to all that is helpful to me, gives me relief, and allows me to cope with life in general. I’m more and more aware of what I want and don’t want, what’s good for me and what harms me. I know that when I’m confronted with situations that are even remotely similar to original traumas, the “off” switch to sky-high stress reactions just doesn’t work. You could even say that it’s not there; it doesn’t exist. I calm myself by avoiding such situations as much as possible, by going into hyper-arousal mode when they occur (“bug out bag” syndrome), and by requiring extensive periods of recovery afterwards. That’s how it is.

Sometimes, by going numb. This does still happen, though it’s not as severe as when I was a teenager.

Oh, and by writing. Especially by writing. As a friend recently put it, self-expression is self-preservation.

I’ve been giving myself permission to say “no” to shit that is particularly damaging to me.

As a result, I feel good. I can function. I can be happy.

I am finally living life on my own terms.

Say cheese.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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:

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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.

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