Something my wife and I made for our dairy farmers.

I wrote a poem about cows yesterday.

Save your sons and the sons of your brothers and neighbors, not your nation-state. Things far beyond patriotism are required of you.

Our dreams have been dammed up and we’re just waiting for it to break loose.

What genre of fiction is your favorite?

A pull-up bar at work would be nice?

#art #poetry #poem looking for #artists for the enjoyment of #readers #reading #books #childrensbooks View quoted note →

Who are the best longform posters on #Nostr?

Boomers walking around salty about all the trash talk of Boomers when they spent countless hours of our formative years telling us how lazy and worthless we were.

Make new memes, not new coins.

Democracy is a degenerate form of governance.

How much of the “far-right” or “dissident fiction/art” growth is mainstream media calling normal people names reductio ad absurdum and the normies just swallowing the reductio?

Starting to give my npub to publishers or magazines that accept my work feels good.

My next children’s book, if I can find an illustrator: Bug Free Dad said he’d buy a bug less house, One that was cool and clean, Something without a friendless louse, Or single roach’s sheen, He said he’d seal up all the gaps, Keeping small things at bay, Bedrooms without lures or traps, Or clouds of fumes or spray, He said it once more in my teens, My brothers were still small, You’d think there’s be a change of scenes, But nothing changed at all, He said there’d be a dining hall, Where mom could serve our friends, Our produce from the spring to fall, With our own tastes and trends, But when I left our doublewide, Most things were still the same, I vowed to find a different tide, To carry my own name, On holidays I would visit, Dad would take me aside, And say some day that he would miss it, This bug-filled doublewide, That sentiment on me was lost, I planned to start with more, I’d outrun the runaway cost, Build up a lasting store, I tried my hand at all the trades, And none did I master, I was no good with shovels, spades, A one-man disaster, I met a girl with eyes and curls, That livened with a laugh, My mind was never without swirls, Before whole showed me half, Returning with a few more boys, We bought that doublewide, Creeping things don’t mix well with toys, Nor with a father’s pride, I wanted to assure my sons, It would not stay the same, That I’d one day gather the funds, To hit upon my aim, I asked my dad what he would do, To sure up my young men, To build them up and get them through, This phase of stark and thin, “Tell them you’ll buy a bug less house, One that is cool and clean, Something without a friendless louse, Or single roach’s sheen, But add that if by chance you fail, Your sorrow they may see, But that won’t be their final tale, You’ll help them live bug-free.”

Low fee environments are just excuses to show how often you obsessively check the mempool.

If you’re into fiction and would like to read modern high craftsmanship, check out Kazuo Ishiguro’s Remains of the Day.

If you have to raise money to evangelize a certain political class to adopt #Bitcoin against their own worldview presuppositions, then they’re just NGMI. Move on and don’t waste the time and money.

Any #Bulgarian #nostriches? I have a children’s book about to be published in Bulgarian.