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Related: Noise-canceling headphones are the best invention EVER.

But that's a problem for tomorrow. Right now I can call it a day and play hooky with Wangsty Dracula. And his long-suffering accountant.

I think I was complicating the end of HOOD's Season Two more than I had to. If I move up the assassination attempt it'll solve plenty of problems.

Apparently Finnish metal-rock opera is today's mood.

The words must flow.

Home is the hunter, home from the grocer's,
Ready to crunch some NaNo.

We're nearing the end of NaNoWriMo's first week. Here's my Week 1 guide on my brand-new writing advice Substack:

I feel like I just hunted down woolly mammoth on my own. I'm going to have that damn book.

Wait! I forgot I get a B&N discount because I sprang for membership last time I was in there.


My occult library is rather well-packed, but there's always room for one more useful (or beautiful) work.

I am squeezing my knees together and doing frantic internet searches to see if there's a copy anywhere I can get my hot little hands on, because Reasons.

"If things were dumped on Crosby Beach before England went to war in 1939, they’ve long since been buried under tons of wreckage from the bloodiest conflict in human history."

Also, Sanford's reporting is excellent, and I really recommend throwing a few bucks in his Patreon.

(I mean, we can probably GUESS where the money's going, can't we.)

Wait, so ChiZine gets government grants and STILL doesn't pay their authors? Where is the money going, then?

In which you get to see cookbooks and Sir Boxnoggin indulging in his feline side.

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Ragged Feathers

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