Why post? Because all your life they made you eat with swine. You bonded with brutes, choked on the better words, and the day you let yourself fall to the ground, they cheered.

A huge thanks to everyone who bought, preordered, promoted, even just checked out SALOMON’S GARDEN. I wrote this over about four years and the process was long, arduous, and often lonely, and I am thrilled to have even one reader. Thanks @20gaShotgun for taking the chance. Enjoy!

🇺🇸 🤝 🇧🇪

How strange it is to be anything at all

Hello :-/

My world is the world of drink, meat, gambling, exclusive clubs, transvestite fellatio, tormented Pilgrim spirits, morbid wit, shopping, masturbation.

I was journaling in my common-sense journal the other day and came to the conclusion that you can't fix something that isn't broken (me)

i cannot explain how genuinely happy fall weather makes me. waking up to chilly mornings, wearing oversized hoodies, seeing colorful leaves everywhere, and enjoying coffee while the world is still quiet. it’a such a simple thing, but it makes life feel so much better ☕️🌧️🍁

here's my poem guys; REED

Obviously, cozy comfort food is a big part of fall. And along with that feeling of craving soup or having something warm or having something savory comes also that desire for comfort in music and comfort in general.

And what if I relish being unwell? And what if I am so finely attuned to this human weariness that I have no need for physical consolation? And what if someone led me to the slaughterhouse in a sheer parade and I trudged behind in high spirits?

Substack is not that bad

Tu n'es plus brave Je t'ai perdue dans la foule Tu as coulé sous les flots La mer était calme, mais il pleuvait sans cesse J'ai compté les bateaux, j'ai compté la tristesse Et combien de vies cela a-t-il coûté ? Et combien de vies cela a-t-il coûté ?

Yes, ghosts are real, magic is real, God is real, and the testament of the majority of humans in history to the experience of all these things is strong evidence in their favor.

My dreams seem designed for the sole purpose of entertaining me. They are elaborate farces. I used to wake up angry with myself, thinking what an idiot I am for taking every absurd detail at face value, but lately I've come to accept it as one of the many things in my life I cannot change. Some nights ago, I had a dream that was all about obtaining a "bus license"—a permit to use the public transit system—which required me to sing a very long, difficult poem in front of a jury. The first obstacle was tracking down the pages the poem was written on. The people I'd been told to visit—the ones who supposedly had it—turned out to be incompetent, giving me contradictory information and dragging me into their side quests. While it was hilarious for a while, eventually I grew desperate. Just as I was about to punch one of them in the face, I woke up.

◇ Octoberium Curio ◇ JEAN DELVILLE L'Allégorie de l'Enfer, 1890 #Belgium

What did I tell everyone? She is beautiful, inside and out.