MESSAGE TO SODER:

My biggest fan… how I love you so. This is all for you. Do you know that? You keep reading, and I’ll keep writing.

I can be your doctor all right. I am a doctor of divinity. Not to say I’m a doctor of the divine, but rather that I’m a doctor in the art of divining. I’m a wizard. I’ve achieved this level of genius in the realm of the preternatural because I don’t feel a need to give a name to what I know is true. And I have a strong resolve.

I’m a spiritual journalist… but you already knew that, didn’t you Soder? You’re the only person I can trust in this strange time in my life. Don’t be stranger and always be a fan. Lionize to your heart’s content, then lionize some more. It feels nice. You make me feel nice. Just like how stroking a fluffy kitty cat feels nice.

Yes, it’s exactly like that. The next stray cat I see, I will make a mental note that its name is Soder. And when it slinks away, it will slink out of my life forever. I will never think about it again, nor the fact that I named it Soder. It’ll get lost in a sea of fleeting memories, living on far outside the area of my mental jurisdiction. It scares me to know I’ve established many addresses in places like that; to have no control over the fact that you exist in a person’s mind even when you’re not in the room with them. I’ve set up a big red armchair in the lobby of a lot of people’s mental apartment complexes, and I have absolutely zero control over what manner of beasts they choose to sit next to me. Once the beasts are sat, they foul the air around me, and stain my very skin with the tobacco juice they secrete from their insectoidal mouths…

What? Hah. Just a big joke. Ignore everything and keep reading. If you walk away from this literary vomit with nothing else, at least walk away knowing that YOU ARE APPRECIATED. Mahalo mahalo mahalo mahalo mahalo mahalo and many more than that.

Yrs. sincerely,

Dr. Gorman