new chalkware superman because you try resisting that makeup

He’s a frightening combo of Miracleman and Mimi from THE DREW CAREY SHOW (and one I highlighted here earlier this year) and I’m thrilled to have him in The Collection:

bye, social

Effective 01 Jan 2024, I will no longer be on any social media platform, fediverse or otherwise. My only connection with the outside world will be via this blog (and its Hyvor Talk-powered comment system) – please add Parenthetical Recluse to your collection of RSS feeds! –; my weekly MacroParentheticals newsletter; and the semi-annual (that being the goal, at least), physical-only PRESS(A) TO START zine, which is newsletter-exclusive anyhow, but I might as well include a blatant plug for it here.

To all of you who have connected with me, especially in the fediverse over the last year, please add your newsletter signup page or blog to the comments here (no sign-up required; can’t turn that off yet in Hyvor) so I can follow you (and start a blogroll here) wherever you may be thinking out loud and making cool stuff in public.

You can always email to say hi: tww(AT)parentheticalrecluse(DOT)com.

It's time and I'm ready: this feels like the next logical step for me. As ever, thank you for your support, and I look forward to whatever new conversations await in this next iteration of the online we.

the emptying, in pictures

And on and on it goes. Goal is to be cleared out by the New Year. Getting everything in a few rooms so when the donation center comes to pick up almost everything, the emptying-emptying should go rather quickly. Pool table makes its way to its new (halfway) home today.

void/bridge

As I get his house emptier and emptier, the void of his absence grows more profound (felt it deeply the other day) – not that I have any emotional connection to that place: my grandparents' moving there cost me the only house that ever felt like home; no, I think it's – other than him, my rock, being gone, of course – more from the unease of seeing my purpose in this particular life event coming to a (merciful) close and, while the uncertainty in and of itself isn't necessarily terrifying, its illicit coupling with the other void – similarly one of lack of purpose, a void which writing's ability to assuage is waning – is a recipe for if not disaster then at least increased happy pill dosage. Vigilance factor against the worst aspects of my nature: elevated – but for now, I have pool tables to move and am, if nothing else, fully in love with having a pickup; I suppose I'll blow up the other bridges as I cross them.