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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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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70s Festive Holiday Extravaganza, tarot, life improvement

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Masterful: Severus and me

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Say cheese.

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saucy and snazzy

Welcome to the fondue party, fellow mavericks.

So I’ve had a lot going on.

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

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

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Genderqueer, baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Say cheese.

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new lair

Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.

Well, after weeks of planning, shopping expeditions, and work, I now have a brand-new lair and I couldn’t be happier.

I’m all set for a grand year of writing and creating.

After the tumult and mayhem and exhaustion of the past year and a half, this feels like a blissful breath of fresh air.

Mr P and I are now utilizing the bedroom half of the house to its full advantage. We’re ecstatic about the improvements we’ve made; we just spent three days celebrating with delicious food, cake, and wine, and a lot of recuperation and basking in what we’ve done in our home.

I shared photos of my new space on my Patreon first, and now I’m going to share a few of those photographs with you.

I’d drawn rough plans of what the room would look like with the furniture in it and so on, but I underestimated just how spacious it would be once everything was arranged and set up in here.

I couldn’t be more pleased with the results.

My work area is no longer a cramped corner. I can move freely about the room. It’s amazing.

I’ve been very selective about what I wanted to put on the walls as far as pictures go. I chose some of my very favorite images, some of my most cherished mementos. I put a few of my frames in the hallway, but about 90% of what was on the walls in my old lair will end up in albums, or be given away.

Because one of the walls is taken up by windows, and another by closets in the new lair, when it came to wall space I gave priority to toys, vintage images and items, and a few photographic treasures. There’s one picture of me dressed as Professor Snape, another as Charlie Chaplin, and a third as Pee-wee Herman. I’ll probably end up putting a fourth costume portrait somewhere—when I do Mozart.

Yesterday, I ordered a small vintage Holly Hobbie plate for the new lair… It delights me for reasons that will, I imagine, be self-explanatory:

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There are also some vintage Ziggy collectibles on the way. Such as this small porcelain box:

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As I said, I’m giving precedence to things that give me joy, and 70s collectibles are high up the list.

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The 70s rule.

Without further ado, scenes from my new lair.

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As you can see, much more space. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love it.

I also love sitting next to a window like that. A smorgasbord of writing and treats in store for my Patreon patrons this year. Books, special editions, macramé wall-hangings, cosplay photos, self-portraits, newsletters, doodles…

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Third tier patrons will get all the books, newsletters, original photographs, macramé, reproductions of artwork, original artwork. Second tier patrons will get newsletters, original photographs, access to all the special editions, reproductions of artwork. First tier patrons will have access to all my Patreon blog posts (as do the second and third tier patrons), and access to all the special editions.

I want to write more volumes like The Corner Store Epiphany, which will only be available to patrons.

Speaking of books, here are more positive words about my pride and joy, Rascal: A Manifesto.

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And a review by The Free Thought Prophet:

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So, all in all, it’s an excellent damn start to the spring over here.

I’m writing, I’m drawing again, I’m relaxing, I’m giving total precedence to what is most important and vital to me: creating, loved ones, quiet times, solitude, familiar places, my home and well-being.

Say cheese.

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