Intending to start a new blog entry, I reviewed my last one, in which I was extending the “gay shirt” Buffynicity. To add to that, I am actually wearing that same shirt today. I wore it this weekend and left it lying on a chair. This morning I decided, what the hell, I’ll wear it again, and here I am.

That’s very nice because I am having an interesting experience this morning. Putting a character based on a Christian like Hulk Hogan in my story, for the specific purpose of remaining Christian and presenting that point of view, has helped me uncover a new sense of Jesus in my subconscious, and clarified some things about my rampant imagination. Obviously, I have psychological problems stemming from repeated head injuries received from pathological liars in my family. My impulse to “be a writer” comes from some kind of fragment of my personality. The part that never belonged to my family, I guess, that always found them ugly and cruel and pointless. It’s close to the part that was so horrified and disgusted by my family when I was younger that I had the overwhelming revelation that I could never be happy or normal.

Hogan is helping me deal . . . or something is helping me deal . . .

2025-08-19 It’s been a while. My feelings about movies are getting too complicated to blog about, but last night I was watching Wag The Dog. Someone woke De Niro up at 303 and Hoffman incorporated it into his lies as a military unit called 303. Then today I was at work and I heard my boss make a phone call, she had to take a note “108 and 303”. So that’s a solid hit and very nice considering the experiences I’ve been having.

I finally saw “Blue” a few days ago,

8/27/2025 Blogging was getting strange because I was losing my sense of who I wanted to be. I’ve been feeling great the last few weeks. This has been the greatest summer of my life, one I’ll always remember. It wasn’t any accident that I discovered Paper Towns this summer; I’ll always remember that magic. It marked a turning point in my mystical experiences.

Another thing that will mark it is that my favorite comic shop is closing after 30 years. It had already been open 13 years when I started going. It opened while I was working at a bookstore in Grand Rapids, hundreds of miles away, but it was waiting there for me and I have been there just about every week for seventeen years. It hurts, man! And the reason I can’t blog about it is the pain. I don’t want to make too big a deal out of it, I was never part of the “inner circle” there, just a loyal customer, but there’s something real about the loss . . . something psychic, something having to do with the higher love of the world.

I can’t keep up with it, mostly when I blog I just refer to things like this on the surface, always scraping away at the skin of the world, never able to truly get within it . . . but maybe something about the loss of this place can tip the balance, inspire me to actually reach all the way within my own metaphorical universe and find something to replace the emptiness . . . I have so many things that I do ritualistically, what am I supposed to share? What of these confused mental states should I share with the world?