An old friend contacted me out of the blue to tell me that he missed reading my writing. It was the middle of the night, and I suspect he might have been drunk, but still… it was a lovely gesture. Made me feel all warm inside. Loved and powerful. STRONG. Like the Christ child ripping his way out of Mary’s womb, ready for battle (I’m not a theologian).
A couple of days later, feeling pretty groovy after a few Apricot La Croix, I took to my Instagram stories and spilled my metaphorical guts re: the current, just-concluded season of American Horror Story and where it ranked in the whole AHS cannon. Not sure anyone particularly enjoyed me clogging up their feeds with a lengthy diatribe about a show not many people watch anymore, but that is not the point. The point is, *I* enjoyed it. Writing about dumb junk felt GOOD.
So, taking my cue from those two events (and the feelings that they stirred up within the rotting coffin I call my soul), I guess I’m going to reboot Zombie Fights Shark yet again. Got to give the people what they want, amiright??? Or least it will be something to distract myself from the fact that the Earth is dying and, sooner rather than later, we will all be consumed by a tornado made of lava. And you can’t FIGHT a tornado made of lava, people! WE DON’T HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY. Sure, the aliens do, but they’re not about to help US. We created the lava tornado, after all.
ANYWAY, we’ll see how this goes. No big promises, no big plans or schemes or whatever. Just going to ease back into that blogging life as if I had never left. Time to flex the creative muscles and get shit FLOWING again.
It has been far too long.
More to come.