Vulgar.
Martesian language seems to be rubbing off on everyone. Even the Pecuari.
Hey,
So, I was thinking, in my review of these pages today, that perhaps folks reading it might get fed up with all the swear words. I know I did, and then I reminded myself to read it as if I were say, an ideal reader reading the exploits of Riley Mortimer, who is pure chaos, and enjoy it for what it is—which is essentially a bunch of bickering with everyone getting fed up with Jonathan Hartt. Even Jonathan appears to be fed up with himself.
That happens when you get old. Fuck it.
Don’t worry, Riley still has a purpose for him. He’ll find an opportunity in this somehow.
Oh, and another thing — it appears I wrote two Page #66s today. So it ended up being 23 pages and now there’s no going back as it would be too much of a pain to fix it. It’s enough doing all the scanning and organizing and blogging to want to go back. It’s like everything else here: One take, no repeats, raw writing. Immortalized on the typewriter. And later on blockchain.
Speaking of blockchain, I imagine these images bei…