For two years now my waking hours have been marked by persistent neck and shoulder pain. At its worst it was incapacitating and it made basic daily functioning nearly impossible; most days it is merely annoying, representing an annoying but surmountable increase in the volume of the mental static I
It’s funny what sticks in your mind. As a kid I had the standard kid-type obsession with dinosaurs. Having an obsession with dinosaurs is great, or at least it was great in my case, because it mostly manifested itself as a desire to read every dinosaur book on which
I have a few vices. I sleep in. I buy drug store candy and eat it, in volume, at my desk. I put too much cream and sugar in my coffee. I enjoy dirty comic books. But by far my most long-standing and financially deleterious vice is my love of gadgets.
I have the privilege of maintaining the archives for The Sockdolager, an online zine of speculative fiction. Although the zine is currently on publishing hiatus, I feel very strongly about keeping the lights on for the authors who'd done me the honor of letting me publish their work. As convenient
I was 11 or 12 for sure; definitely no older than 13.
Upon the metaphorical road's failure to rise up to meet me, I was forced to take a job in Shitty Retail, working the 0400-1200 logistics shift at a Target store in Cheyenne, WY, USA. It was there under the threateningly, vertiginously expansive skies that I learned the way of the world.