Reunion | TBN 9-25-21

CommonsLog: made an executive decision: Project R is cancelled | TBN +851 words

• • • nothing writ’ below these dots • • • is meant for human eyeballs • • •

Rome fell, like, many moons ago… so why are ‘mans trying to be romantic?

You know, romanticism. Being like Rome. Romantic doesn’t mean lovey dovey hearts on valentine’s day, it means like Rome. That is, dramatic, artistic, neurotic. Crazy. It was literally an empire of psychopathic human beings led by the craziest ones among them who tried to conquer the world and failed. They were a bunch of fucking nutbars is what they were. Look, I’m out of my mind too, okay, I’m genetically romantic, I don’t need to try to be a nut, but I balance that fact by making books. Like, I don’t have the human act in real life the way I have his fingers act in The Note, he’s a generally… well he’s not out to get you, he harbors no ill will, which actually brings me to the point of this: Reunion, the hypothetical title of Project R, has been CAN-the fuck-CELLED!

And for good reason. I was writing it to spite specific human beings who at one or more points acted in a way that hurt me, I was writing it to try to show things from my perspective, to let these old emotions go and have a little catharsis, and I got a good start on it too, really ripped one specific asshole a new human if you toke what I’m blowin’ here, and he deserved what I wrote, too, she did indeed, the little vague description soughter of a basitch… but after the first flogging, I was satisfied. I had written what I needed to write, I got it out. There was no need to continue the project, and don’t get me wrong, the catharsis part was only the b-story, the novel was going to be a story about the Bookmaker, as in lowercase t uppercase B, and another character called The Bookburner, see, do you, do you see what I was gong for there? The Bookmaker – Thow, his name is Thow, see, do you, do you see where I got that from? – and The Bookburner. Thow and… well I don’t want to say The Bookburner’s actual name, leaving it at the mantle is fine for now. But anyway, the story was going to be about Thow, a God, incarnating in human form and being unaware of his powers in a part of Wuester where The Bookburner was controlling everybody, and it had a decent setting too, it was a little suburb of Wuester where life was a movie lmfao, but here’s the thing about it… it still had that b-plot with the humans. All that grand potential was poisoned by one toxic little b-plot that existed only because I was angry. Only because it was easy. Only because it needed to.

lo, for how that moldy apple do’ spoil the bushel for all th’e children in the village…

The human wants me to be clear about this: this writing, these books, this Hunter A. Wallace of a human being, all this is happening for the sake of The Hillside Commons. Not for your sake. Okay? I just trashed 10,000 words of hard work, do you understand me? That’s all I’ve written since Sto’tryp, that’s my entire current work in progress. I didn’t do it as an offering either, I did it because doing it was right. It’s not the first catharsis piece I’ve trashed, probably won’t be the last, either, and I only feel good for doing it. This is my life, my livelihood, my business, and my actual purpose for drawing breath, and I take it very seriously. Yes, The Note seems to be the living antithesis to that statement, but that’s the point of this. If I’m openly bullshitting and ripping and tearing here, in these blog posts, then why would I do it in my books? Like, yeah, I did it in Sto’tryp, but I wrote Sto’tryp during a one-day 11-mile hike, and even still Sto’tryp had plot and story and lore. This blog series is just bullshit, and that’s okay. That’s necessary. My books are legit, the current and finalized versions of the books which are all available for free on the website are all legit, I put a lot of time and effort into them, and that’s it. There’s nothing else I should or could be doing with my life. It’s just part of growing up, ‘man. You gotta realize what’s worth your time and what’s not. And I mean realize, not figure out but realize, make real. We all live, we all have free will. I’m building a library, it’s called The Hillside Commons, and I’m not gonna throw a hex to get you here.

In other words, bookmaker. Okay? Bookmaker. That’s all. Just Bookmaker. I am The Bookmaker, you are humanity, and this is our formal reunion. I am your eccentric grandpa. Welcome home, baby

Since you’re there, noted reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~

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