On The Occasion of My 45th Birthday

As of today, I am 45 years old.

It's been a far more interesting year than I anticipated, and not for all the right reasons. Spending a third of it either in a hospital bed or in a residency to rehabilitate, learning I had chronic medical condition, and losing part of a leg was not part of the plan. However, getting knocked down that hard did reveal to me who my friends and allies are and who are but ephemeral passers-by with no concern for me whatsoever.

As for what I did plan to do, I did get my first novel out this past year. Later than I would have liked, but it got out; paperback delayed about as much. Reviews have been positive, and it's done as well as I expected; I am encouraged and will continue with this series, and I will talk about another crowdfunding campaign for it soon. I want to see this become the first Western SF series in Super Robot Wars, and be made into an anime series with music by the Living Goddess of Music. That ain't gonna happen if I don't follow through.

And I emerged from all this into a changed world a changed man. Not all change is for the better; the idea that all change is progress and that all progress is improvement is a one-two punch of lies. The changed world is not changed for the better, but degraded from what it once was, and that it happened along a well-known and well-worn path demonstrates that the Whig View of History--which SJWs embrace without even knowing the name as fundamental dogma--is a Satanic lie.

And I am diminished. Make no mistake about that. Losing part of your body irrevocably changes everything about your life, permanently handicapping your capacity to act in the world, even if it's as so small as part of your pinky finger- and I lost more than that. The adaptations I am forced to make closed off paths for me, and having a prosthetic leg doesn't restore access to them; I need the prosthetics technology science fiction--especially cyberpunk fiction--once fantasized would be accessible by now to do that. Yet I do not complain; it's done, it's lost, and it ain't coming back so there's nothing gained by crying about it. Far better to work with what remains to walk--and I can yet walk, thank God, with some difficulty--what paths are still open to me.

But today, today's a day for cake and pizza, and I already had the pizza. Cake's coming with dinner. I've been dodging the Sandmen for 24 years, and despite a close call they haven't gotten me yet. If you're inclined to give me a gift, check below for the Lists.