reinvented vintage

What’s shakin’, bongo players.

And once again, it’s been a while.

I want to turn this blog into my “here’s my thoughts” blog, so I will be updating it on a regular basis, especially since I’ve pretty much left Livejournal, where not much happens anymore (where not much has happened for quite some time); as far as I can tell, the majority of its users have moved on to Facebook, a platform that repels me, both in the sense that I dislike it and that it doesn’t accept people like me.

The places I’m active online these days are:

my “latest news” main blog,

Twitter – I spend most of my online time here

Instagram – fun with photos/social network

Imzy – short blog/social network that’s very nice indeed

Anywho. So there you go.

I’ve been sick for a week now with some cold bug, and boy, Benylin is a life-saver, but I’ve also been celebrating and promoting the release of my new book, and my first Atheist Republic title, Atheist Tiki Hour: Your Guide to a Secular Blast.


You can get your copy, paperback or Kindle, here.

The support I’ve gotten for this book, and for my work in general, has often brought me to tears. I’m in a good place these days, and my focus is writing more books. I’ve begun writing this one:

Cafe Sign and Old Car on Route 66

It feels really good, writing this thing. It’s going to be short; I want to write a series of fairly short books.

I’m going to be fifty in a couple of years, and I feel like I’ve begun a new chapter. It’s a fabulous chapter.

I mentioned Livejournal earlier in this post. I do strongly feel like I’ve been leaving some things behind at this stage in my life. When I wrote Hula Girl, I was starting over, as far as my writing goes. I’d written about religious subjects for a decade, and there I was, starting from scratch again.

I don’t regret that. And I’m phenomenally grateful for the assistance and support I’ve gotten from the secular community in particular.

I feel truer to myself than I’ve ever been, like I’m my old self and a completely different person at the same time.



I’ve reclaimed myself, freed myself, and reinvented myself.

It’s a damn fine feeling.

For this reason, I’m looking forward to writing Severus Snape and the Art of Being Human. It’s a book I need to write; I have a lot to say. After that, my love for Potter things—Snape things—is going to be more of a quiet, private affair for me. I’ll be hanging out with a handful of loved ones in a couple of weeks, and it’s going to be grand (and tranquil), but it’s going to be the last time I organize any kind of “official” gathering like that. Maybe in 2018, I’ll ask a few friends, “Hey, wanna come over and we’ll chat over food and drinks and go see a movie or something and have a blast for a couple of days, let’s pick a weekend,” but that’ll be enough.

And I’m tired, you know. I’m conventioned out, as it were. I’ve decided I won’t be going to MISTI next year because I’m worn out. I was already exhausted when I went in 2015; I spent half my time there in the hotel room with a dear friend, where we happily watched Animal Channel marathons about killer bears and giant Japanese wasps. I had a blissfully memorable lunch with a small group of friends at a Mexican restaurant—the Tropical Trio is a drink I’ll never entirely forget—we talked, laughed, and that was marvelous as fuck, but the rest of the time, for the most part, I was dragging myself along. I was tired when I drove down to New Hampshire, and I had trouble keeping my eyes open when I drove back home. I had insomnia every night during the convention.

There are many people I’ll miss seeing by not going to MISTI next spring. Still, since I made this decision, I feel relieved because I’m beat. When you’re an introvert like I am, these four/five day conferences, boy, they’re Herculean. Even though MISTI is seven months away, my stomach clenched at the prospect.

When I thought, “I’m going to stay home,” I felt better. Less anxious and agitated.

The time has come for me to think of me.

I want to focus on my secular writings. I want to putter at home, fuss over my toy collection. Play my ukulele. Watch the weird obscure shit that makes my little heart happy.

I’m planning my second Atheist Republic book. It’ll be Heathen’s Hideaway: Living God Free, more about my life as a secular humanist than about what led me to it; I covered that in Hula Girl and Atheist Tiki Hour.

I saw the trailer for “Fantastic Beasts” the other day, and frankly, my thoughts were yeah, sure… Whatever. The hype isn’t doing much for me. I got Cursed Child when it came out, and I read the Snape bits (I loved them), and that was it.

The Harry Potter world is now one of my many interests. That’s it. It’s good that way.

I mean, these days I’d get more excited at the prospect of a third “Hotel Transylvania” movie. I’m excited about getting my copy of 70s Dinner Party.

This is how I’m hitting the road: I’m moving on from a period of my life. I’ve been moving on, mentally, in numerous ways. I’m behind the wheel of my life and going where I want to go, doing what I want to do. It’s a new era.

Surf’s up.

tip the barman

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