I’ve been trying to figure out life and what’s best for everyone involved. I’ve also been getting super humbled by the job search and I did not go into it with arrogance, mind you. But also sometimes I find the time to write more of Book 2. It, obviously, did not go to the editor last April as it had been scheduled to for over two years. What can you do.

More on all that for the paying subscribers. And also I delve into the idea that I write some truly spicy things every time I ovulate. At this age, it’s obvious to me when it’s happening, and sometimes I’m like wow, do I dare leave that in there, what the deep-seated “get me pregnant” hormones all mammals have made me write? Probably shouldn’t. But then I do because fuck it. I could have written a book with less sex in it, believe me, my early unpublished attempts were adept at skirting the issue but still using the ramifications of illicit coupling (i.e. a lovechild) as plot devices. It was funny. But more on that is for those who pay.

While I’m unemployed, I figured I should do my darnedest to work out every single day. If I don’t have the time, who does? I think I have late-stage capitalism brain because one of the first things I considered was if I could somehow translate getting really into shape into making money. Also it’d be cool to do, like I have all these bird tattoos, I should have buff arms and shoulders. Or so my logic has always been but then I keep getting tattoos without getting into shape. When I did the giant Great Blue Heron on my inner arm, I kept thinking about how this poor guy had to tattoo what was essentially the skin equivalent to a baggie full of pudding. Also on my paid post is a full, current tattoo tour and a scribbling in of what’s next, money permitting. It’s always money permitting around here, see my unemployment above.

I hope you all are well. Except for a few of you. You know who you are. You know what you did.

-Cassandra