Ok. In case the Herculean pause between the last post and now has not made it abundantly clear, I am a little in over my head with this whole Heretic Pride thing. My life lately has made it much too difficult to complete such a big task with the detail that it deserves. So, I would like to propose a return to form here, i.e.: less shit, more books.
One thing I would like to mention is that I have, myself, been writing a lot of fiction. I was humbly able to do a reading from a novel I have been working on at this year's LitQuake festival in San Francisco, which was tremendously exciting. Now, I would like to bring in some thoughts of a guy trying-to-be-an-author, as well to the format. That's sort of shit-and-books simultaneously, right? A sort of dialectical synthesis, or what have you.
Anyway. I have not been able to read quite as much as before, but I have still read some good ones lately. I hope to have my next post be on Jack Black's You Can't Win, a pretty nice piece of realist hobo-highwaymanism from around the turn of the previous century. I promise it will come sooner than this post did.