First, the air goes out at work, so now I'm over-heating and headachy and the nausea's coming on because OF COURSE it had to break after lunch.
Then, right before I return to the grind, I do a quick spin of LJ and find out about Neil Gaiman's bullshit with
"a few dead Indians". So, now a big fuck you to him and AfP and may they be happy in their self-absorbed white hipster hell. I won't trash my short stories and novels and graphic novels, but I sure as shit am not giving him another damned dime after that faily non-apology.
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