I, or rather the person I am on the blog. seem to have a new Mastodon Fanboy. Which is cool, but I'm kind of not used to people wanting great gulps of my content, right?Especially the posts that are more about disability and don't make it sound screwball or like a fun ride or anything--I've been kind of taking a hard look lately, as befits an artist whose audience has reached mid-double figures, and it seems like people don't always appreciate that. Sometimes to put that mildly, but I spend enough time not saying what I really think.(It sucks to have spent most of your life in a place where people don't get what you're about.) And I still wish the publishers had made it more clear that it was more like *try your hand* at blogging what your shit's about, and there's really only two slots--we're helping Jim sell his novel. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt my feelings. The part I hate is that there's a part of my brain that's thought about meet-cutes since I was about eleven who's like "Maybe you'll fall in love and he'll come there and sweep you away from all of your problems." He's somebody's dad in Europe--that's probably not going to happen. It is nice to imagine something that happens to me that's not some tragic fail of the safety net.

Hippo Belated Birdies, Summer Birthday Bitches and Hippo Birdies, Autumn Birthday Bitches!

I was just thinking, I wish there was an app for Buffistas and here you are perfectly formatted for my device in Duck Duck Go! Love you all, miss you all... exclamation points! (I need you to know that I gave auto correct a chance when spelling Buffistas in swipe mode and one of its guesses was Nudists)

That does make some sense, actually. especially with this title. (flashes)