Back at Rhadamanthus Acres

After a grueling five months away, I have come back to my home, beautiful Rhadamanthus Acres.

Isn’t it quaint?

It’s been three days since I came home. There are several things that I have done knock out one of the many dreary hours that I will have to spend here.

I’ve been quitting cigarettes. The ranch is a 45 minute drive removed from any place where you could buy a pack, so I may as well make good use of my isolation. It’s going pretty well.

Weed has been integral to this process. It may be fair to say that it is integral to all of my processes, if I’m being honest with myself. I got my hands on some Sour D, which soothes my cravings and helps me not be a caterwauling rage monster with my family.

I’ve been writing a bunch of poetry as well. Short stuff, very emo, douchey, I think. Very middle school. Maybe I’ll post them on Twitter or something.

I’ve been celebrating Christmas with my family, I guess. I choose to supplicate the darker aspects of the holiday (see below), while my family has forced me to make tea out of a pot shaped like a snow-woman. A CHEERY, DELIGHTFULLY PLUMP, SNOW-WOMAN.

All hail the demonic companion of Saint (?) Nicholas, Krampus. From the wonderfully talented Melita Curphy‘s website.

I have also devoured most of the third series of American Horror Story. I love the aesthetic of it, all gothic-hipster, and the cast smokes enough cigarettes for them and everyone else I know, so its very therapeutic. I do love the cigarette dispenser’s they keep in their manor.

So nifty.

I finished Mindy Kaling’s Is Everything Hanging Out Without Me (And Other Concerns). I’m a big fan of The Office and I really enjoyed it. She’s writes like she doesn’t give a fuck, and I respect that.

I do need to write some queer urban fantasy, though, if I am to truly achieve the transcendence of the uber-hipster. I’m thinking about including a Kinky Krampus.