I had the worst thought. To me it’s obvious, but perhaps not to everyone else. With my post yesterday I didn’t mean the many people who’ve told me (still tell me) that I should write a book—that they’d buy said book.

I adore those of you who’ve said that. That is not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about people I meet who, when they learn what I do here, launch into the typical nonsense about paid readerships—subscriptions and Patreon and all that.

That’s what I hate. People who don’t know me at all chiming in most unwelcomingly, to suggest I do something I loathe: crowdfund, busk, beg—whatever you call it, I find it tacky as fuck. I didn’t even do a gift registry when I got married.

Anyway, it’s been deliciously rainy and misty the past couple of days. Last night I had stuff on my mind (good stuff—thoughts I wanted to turn over and over again and just enjoy), so I went to the lake. It was perfect. Just me, The Boxer Rebellion’s Let it Go on repeat, the fog, and the wonderful secret I have, that I am definitely going to spill all over these pages here pretty soon.