my favourite part of le morte d'arthur is the bit where the lady Iseult calls Sir Dinadan out for having precisely zero bitches

in many ways, so was my lack of willingness to run the numbers before publishing

when someone approaches you with a dissection of your work it is a gesture of love and the only thing to do is plant your feet in the mulch of falsehood and claim all your mistakes were maverick artistic flourishes

I am told I have a box of author copies on the way to me, and I'm just going to mail you one 😂 this is my solution

i yearn for the soil

ok well send almost nudes then

well yes that's an excellent point

send nudes 👍

If I need a gay to do something for me I just wait until october and then use the dad voice, it has an absurd success rate, fish in a barrel

trying to figure out why so many of my friends are acting distracted and doing the 🥺 face all the time, then I'm like ohhh right its october

this is so deeply predictable but also very funny

start a cult

my kingdom for a cube (or other isometric device) that pings when I hear the truth

setting up the grand bureau of submissives (population 15,000) to handle the administrative burdens of 15,000 submissives, and still ending up without my goddamn slippers in the morning

as soon as I figure out how to sift through the "will say anything to get laid" submissives for the "actually doesn't mind doing chores" ones (perhaps some kind of large scale sci fi device) it's over for all of you

I think I need a butler. I wake up and I just lie here like kafka's beetle doing nothing when I know that some tea and my slippers would fix everything but they are so far away (5 meters)

'have you considered writing in a different genre' oh you like the trumpet do you, i bet you'd be good at the oboe. if you love football you'd be great at archery, im going to walk directly into the ocean

still thinking about the weekend when I was concentrating on a new rope tie I'm learning, so I say to the guy 'turn around please' and he looks me dead in the eye and says "um you are the dom you don't have to ask" and I am like right right sorry shut your bitch mouth and turn around please

you. me. the alleyway. quills.

i would like to have lived during that period where I could have an intense homoerotic rivalry with another author we expressed entirely through letters and biting satires we publish in literary magazines