I'm taking a break from the woo-woo-internets for a while. Recent encounters have left me rather more raw than I ought to be, and that has in turn caused me to redirect my ire. To those who have gotten the less-than-flat edge of my flaming sword, I apologize.
During this time I'll be clearing up issues with responsible parties directly, online and off, and likely formally severing my ties with a few persons and groups.
This is also a time I need to be taking to work on writing (the
long-suffering Familiar-book), and gearing up for my fall-time duties.
I woke up singing "Grow For Me" from Little Shop of Horrors, and realized it's an encapsulation of my frustrations. That I literally popped awake humming it says something about how persistent the message is. I can't keep feeding the man-eaters, or they'll just get bigger and hungrier.
I've given you southern exposure
To get you to thrive.
I've pinched you back hard,
Like I'm s'posed ta.
You're barely alive.
I've tried you at levels of moisture
From desert to mud.
I've given you grow-lights
And mineral supplements.
What do you want from me- Blood?