I’m an anarchist.

It’s been obvious for a while. I’m probably some kind of anarchist flower child. I gave up on conventional work about a year ago, and becoming self-employed has been the best thing I’ve ever done. Self-employment has its ups and downs, I won’t deny that, but it’s so rewarding and enjoyable. I have autonomy, creativity and a complete lack of authority and bureaucratic bullshit.

Without self-employment, I wouldn’t have the will or the time to write, create or do much other than exist. I like living, and material goods are largely pointless distractions after a certain point. Give me a bike, something that connects to the Internet and can work some necessary software, some good books and a robust red pen. And a good kitchen. Can’t forget that. I must start taking photos and writing down my recipes for that cooking/gardening blog I dream about starting.

I went to Montreal’s Anarchist Bookfair this weekend on the advice of a former roommate. It seems now we have much more in common than we did when we were roommates. I find it funny how that turned out. She’s off on a farm somewhere for the summer so I couldn’t visit her zine. It’s kind of a pity, I want to pick up a copy of her book and get her to sign it.

The Bookfair was just a quick walk from the Atwater Market, so anonymous boyfriend and I walked over to enjoy the sights and shops. It was his first time there. I love the fromagerie with the epic beer selection. That and the place with the wall of hot sauces are some of my all-time favorite shops. We grabbed some Blair’s Mega hot sauce. This will be exciting!

I need to get back to Earth after a whirlwind weekend. My Neovella needs all the crazy love I can pump into it. Maybe I should give up zombie fiction and other “serious” genres and just do the utterly absurd. I doubt the Zombie Empress would approve, and I need to keep giving her reasons not to eat me. That reminds me, must finish edits and pump out another draft, lest I lose my self-imposed short story challenge.

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