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.

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

Today is a new day. It will bring new challenges and new gifts. But it’s yours. Take a deep breath and slow down. And please don’t forget that you are more loved and significant than you believe.

Subassembly. Zenithal primed. Mounted on swappable magnetic cork handles. And ready to paint. Folks, weekend plans don’t get much better than this.

I plan to paint the mother-loving heck out of some Warhammer plastic this weekend.