Two years.

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned:

It’s been two years since my last blog post.

A week is probably fine. Maybe a month.

But two fucking years? Enough time to create a baby and watch it walk its first steps. Enough time to build a house or master the oboe… and I can’t get a blog post together. Mr. Writerly McWriteface can’t pound out a few thousand words for his feverish fan-base?

Shame. Shame. Shame.

So… Intead of feeling like a heap-pile of festering, lazy shit, I choose delusion.

Reasons I haven’t updated in two years:

  • In that time, I’ve written sixteen novels and had them published. They’ll both be turned into holographic epics next year.
  • I’ve designed and fabricated a new flying wagon, fueled by children’s joy.
  • I’ve started my own porn-production company, focused primarily on space-sex.
  • I’ve been very busy, learning to fly helicopters and base-jumping and becoming a WWE superstar.
  • I can now speak eleven languages, and I’m the best swordfighter on whatever hemisphere I live in.

That’s why I haven’t written a blog in two years. Sorry for the lack of updates, I’ve just been absorbed in all that other super-cool shit.

In short: I’m super busy. So…

See you in another two years.


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