Under the Wire

Soooo…. There’s this time at the end of every month where I realize that 10 days out has turned into 4 days, and then into 2, and I think, “I’ll make do for my Patrons!” And, once a year, that end of the month turns into New Years — a holiday I once had a tremendous affection for, but these days… it’s not “not so much.” It’s just that I’m out of practice.

It’s a luxury, you see, to be able to have the time to write what you think. I can’t tell you all how much I Appreciate (with a capital A) the hell out of it when you send me a message that says “I came here for the boobs, but I stayed here for the words.”

And, yeah. I know some of you know that there are a not-unquantifiable amount of folks who may or may not say that this might or may not be the reason… Hey. If you’re here, you want to be. You put your cash where your mouth is, so to speak. And, I appreciate that. It’s a curious life, this weird thing of mine.

I want you to close your eyes for a second. Imagine being a pretty attractive 38-year-old woman (I’ve got two weeks left!), and knowing that, if you go outside, people are gonna pull their phones out. Guys — you get it. I know. As Benoit Blanc said, to paraphrase, “Yayus, Everybuhhdy knows.”

It’s an adjusting period for me. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve lived in a city for… ages. Longtime fans will know that I was in the middle of Spain for a long spell. Then, the panda happened, and I set the Mona Lisa on fire (a true story, based on real events?).

But, I’m in a city now. A real one. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely experience. I am thrilled to get to know the people I knew in the past, and the ones with whom I am developing relationships with now. It’s… yeah. It’s thrilling. (Nothing terribly romantic yet. As is my nature, I still keep to myself.)

(Though there was this one person, for a second there… They were (HAHA! I’m not gonna give away their gender!) lovely. It was one of those things that hit home, for the first time in a long time, where I was just able to talk, and talk, and just freagging talk. God, I missed that.

OK. It is now, at the time of this writing… One hour and 14 minutes until the patrons who departed (I love you so much, andI want you to get this message so dearly) will no longer have access to this message. It will arrive in their email until… Well, One hour and 12 minutes from now, and not after. Pacific Standard Time, and all that.

Signing up for a platform like this one is not a simple process… it requires intent. So, it’s only lovely that I give you a hint of what to expect for 2023 (ugh, right?) should you decide stick around. Teasers. For me, however, 2023 is the year of really embracing. I can just feel it. In my bones, in the eternal tortoise, in the fireworks that are currently exploding outside, because in Mexico, reverie is ever in the air.

That Magic: The Gathering post I’ve been promising you. It’s a long take on nostalgia. There are a BUNCH of cards I’ve been working on designing that are not gonna be printed you understand, but I found some templates, and had some fun. Here’s one of them.

There's gonna be 15 of them! I mean, just as pictures on this Patreon, nothing like NFTs or printing presses or any of that bullshit. But it's been fun tinkering! (And, if I might add, not a BAD limerick.) 

Speaking of Nostalgia: Chicago. A place I have never visited, have no particular affiliation with, and don’t know many people from. And yet. There is something to be said about feelings for a place you’ve never experienced. It’s a bookend. And a silly preview.

Clue. No secret that I’ve always been a fan of the Ol’ Agatha Cristie Zeitgeist. You might recall that Astrid and I did an intro that, well, kinda fell flat at the start. But there was air in those lungs, and there are pictures from that night where we just kinda went goofy nuts, and portrayed all the characters. I was Green, Scarlett, and Plum. She was Mustard, Boddy, and Peacock. We fought over White. ANYWAY. With a spurt of inspiration from Glass Onion, heck — how can we not?

(Totally didn't post any of my own pictures, because who would I when I can just show a pic of Mrs. Peacock and Ms. White instead?)\

You're looking at her boobs, aren't you. Eileen Brennan's I mean. It's ok. You can stare. This is a safe place. 

(Oh, but this is cool, so listen up! There are gonna be voices, too! I got a microphone again! And, shit, we dressed up for this! And, at the same time that some buddies of mine have “volunteered” to provide their own brand of voiceover work! You’ll have to check it out… It’s gonna be a shitty whodunnit, but it’s MY whodunnit! (And Astrid’s too — please don’t kill me Astrid. You’ll get yours, mwahahahahahahaaaa….)

(It’s… 1 hour and one minute until you don’t get this email. I must speed up.)

I am in a city. And sometimes, dear heavens. I do like to just head out and about. But (and long-term fans might recall) I have ways around the idea that when I’m just hanging out in a book store, someone tries to take a picture or something. Sooooo…! This is my workaround!

I am NOT pregnant. So that’s settled. But if I bind everything up correctly, I can go out into the world, and folks will just kinda go with it. So, in January, I’ll be posting a bit about… fuck, I mean, “How that works..” It involves layers, smushing everything down, clothing that cooperates… the kinda skillset that you don’t think a person would necessarily need. But, ah-ha! I am Lupin, the master of disguise! Please pay no attention to the woman with the overdue with twins goat belly! (Especially when she’s wearing her ever-trusty maternity overalls).

[Again, not pregnant! But I[m sure you can understand that the maternity section is my preferred department. Tunic-length and wide in the middle? Sounds like someone we know!]

Also. This week. I got a Rolling Stones shirt that is WAY TOO SMALL. I’m planning on quaffing up a blue wig. And cursing the shirt up. And using some tongue-sticking-out logos as pasties. I will take a picture, and post it here, because the wig is blue, and because it would not the TECHNICALLY illegal at a concert, but would DEFINITELY not be appropriate on Instagram.

It’s 52 minutes.

It’s not like I’m writing this quickly. I’ve had the privilege of being able to write this stuff, and produce all this content, because I spend a LOT of time at the back end thinking about it. What to write, what to say, why the hell would anyone care about what some backwoods post-modern hipster chick has to contribute… I’m being self-deprecating, because my ego is something I’m trying to build. (And doing a fucking amazing job at it!, bwahaha). But the reason I say it is because this is all rumbling around in my head. And I think January is when it’s gonna come out. 2023 seems like, and correct me if I’m wrong… but it seems like a year where we can finally take ourselves back.

We're all veritable Picasso's, telling that lady that his pencil sketch is worth $5,000, because it didn't take him 7 seconds to draw. It took 70 years. 

Which is why it's with a curious heart that I'm desperately curious about AI Art these days. This following picture is going to be the catalyst for all the madness that I am sure will unfold. Because doesn't that seem appropriate? A taco on a boob? I think so. Best place for a taco. 

But I am rampantly curious. I won't spill it all here, but this-here picture is the very root of a chunk of philosophy that'll follow. 

It’s been a while. For me, I remember when I started this, I just wanted to scream all the things, good and bad, at the world. And, you guys listened. I fall silent sometimes, but you stick around, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. (And yes, there are boobs! Boobs are objectively fun!)

There are a few tiny anecdotes coming up about that, too. It’s been a while since I’ve just sat down and rambled about the day-to-day experiences of what it’s like to be HWTB. (Heather With The Boobs). So, I’m likely gonna get a little tipsy and ramble in the Audio Tier. A lot. This month. [I have a microphone again! Eeeep! It’s so cool, it has and arm and everything!]

44 minutes. There are at least a couple of pictures I want to stick into this post, so I’d better get started.

All I can say is, if you’re reading this at the start of the year, I have just one question: What silly, stupid, wonderful thing do you want to embrace this year? We’ve been through a lot, and we all owe ourselves something… pure. For me, it’s more scarves. If you think about it, they’re comfy, and make you look classy. And for ME, especially… they’re strategic.

I love you guys. I sincerely home your New Years are off on the very best start, and that, during 2023, you fall in some with something stupid and wonderful. And that you become good at it, and it either fulfills you, or becomes some-kinda crazy fucked up catalyst that causes fulfillment in the long run. Good, either way. 

41 minutes. Certainly not enough time to proof this thing. Pardon the typos. 

Auld Lang Syne, y’all.

[Ed Note. This is not only being published at... 11:55 PST. But this is apparently my hundredth post that is an actual (as determined by me) essay. Huh. Anniversaries, all 'round]