The story practically writes itself.

That’s a great idea! Now to find a large arrow…

Went into the attic of our garage today for the first time since we bought the place, and found a 125-year-old rowing machine made of wood, iron, and leather, and it’s the most hardcore thing I’ve seen in ages. I’ll post better pictures once I drag it out and clean it up.

Optimist: the cup is half full Pessimist: the cup is half empty Folklorist: the cup was used in mid-19th century Europe as a vessel to catch and drink the warm blood of a freshly beheaded criminal as part of a tradition known as medicinal cannibalism, most commonly as treatment for epilepsy.

Enjoying a small dram of my Balvenie 21 Yr Portwood tonight. I’ve earned it.

Reposting here in case my pain helps other process their own: (from Threads) I have lost so many “friends” over the past few years because I simply refused to let them take advantage of me or control me. I feel so much lighter having cut those ties, but some days (like today) the loss still stings.

Greetings!

Although, it must be said, once I sell this book to a publisher, they will also ask to buy the audio rights and for me to be the narrator. Which means, in a weird way, the book will become a podcast anyway, just one that is for-sale only and not on an RSS feed 🤷🏻‍♂️

Also, “Metropolis, Pt. 2: Scenes from a Memory” by Dream Theater still jams 25 years later. That is all.

Well, hello again. I’ve been busy writing a new book (my first full history book, sort of like a non-audio season of Unobscured), so I’ve been drowning in ideas/concepts/cool stories. It’s wonderful. But hey, how are things here? Do people even remember me? #historians#writing#hashtags#sigh