Neil Gaiman speaking event in Lexington Kentucky

And there was Neil Gaiman the ineffably cool best selling author who I’d been reading since I was a teenager. Someone who’s work I really respect and admire.

He was going through the stack of books fairly quickly people were just sort of breezing past him and I thought to myself; you have to say something to him. Don’t just breeze by say something. And so he came to my books and I opened my mouth a out spilled words like I’d been choking on water. I spoke very quickly I told him I really love all his work and comic books and everything and I’d been reading his stuff for a really long time and I think he’s just great. I said it in one massive slur that he probably did not even understand.

Then something surprising happened. He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. His hand stopped moving mid signature and he seemed to be genuinely noticing my existence.

I handed him my Melancholy Evil Poptart and I told him; “This is a stupid webcomic I did and at least I can say I gave it to you.” He looked at it and said “Now what is this?” He asked me a question and I had to explain. I told him it started as a comic book in middle school me and my friends passed around and now this is about us all grown up and him trying to find meaning in life. I warned him that it was really depressing. He looked at the cover and said “I’ll read this… Melancholy Evil Poptart” He seemed to find humor in the title. He shook my hand. He fucking shook my hand and I felt far more acknowledgement than I’d ever expected from going to this event.

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The past week and my life in Columbus Ohio

The party that night was fun. I’ve developed a habit of staying up until the break of dawn with the boys. There were fireworks of Illegal quality, ducks (I’m serious Sullivan’s family has pet ducks) a pack of seven little yapping dogs who bite and snap at your ankles anytime you walk across the living room floor, smoked deer meat, beer, sparklers, meat loaf baked into zucchini, and an orange cay named Tommy.

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Kate E Lore on July 4th and some other American Holidays

I don’t want to come off as an asshole when I say I’ve never given a shit about the fourth of July but that’s basically what I’m saying here.

I like BBQ’s and sparklers and seeing my friends. I like smores, bonfires and beer. I cannot say however that I have ever truly associated any of these activities as a celebration of America. I realize that is supposed to be the purpose however it has never been heavily present in my mind. If anything my favorite part of Fourth of July is getting fireworks illegally from out of state. My favorite part of this holiday celebrating my country is breaking the law?

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Second to last Waffle Tuesday

And today was my second to last waffle Tuesday. Two weeks left is creeping in, seeping in, sinking in with heavy gravitational weight. So sudden I desperately want to see all my people and do everything I can before I go. Weekends are already booked and pushed and crammed into every free second I have. Weekdays I’m still charting, mapping, leaving open to the wind and getting an idea of best course to sail. I am resisting the expensive urge to go out each and every night I have left.

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A little over a weekend

I have this thing I like to call Summer Fever. It’s this anxiety that sinks into your skin with the heat of the sun. It warms up your bloodstream to boiling which will cloud your vision and cause your brain to pulse in its skull shell. This fever is a need to get out, a need to be out, an undeniable craving for fun. Last summer this fever got the better of me and I got in some trouble. This year I’m trying to get a handle on it, but at least so far I’m not the only one infected.

I took pictures and enjoyed nature all by myself. I find it better for observing better for reflecting when you go all alone. This last month in Dayton for me is filled with silent goodbyes. I know I won’t be far and I know that I’ll be back, but I’d like to better appreciate and remember the places and people I’ve taken for granted.

It was sprinkling in a cooling summer haze as we drove home. Raindrops fat splatter on the ground far and few between. Quickly absorbed by the thirsty dry soil they leave no evidence behind.

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4 a.m.

Anyway I find myself on the second album listening to The Nightmare of Lady DaDa. It’s a little 80’s feeling but I really like the distant scream you hear for the last quarter of the song. It’s like when you hear something so far away from yourself and you don’t know if it’s a distant siren, a child screaming or simply the wind.

So of course I jump clear out of my skin, splattering blood all over the interior of his car, when he reappears at the driver side door.

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3/29/2013 Work, write, and clothes?

8:00 I started a shift at the IT labs of Sinclair Community College. I feel silly wearing my purple pig tails but I wore a paper clip in my hair all day a few weeks ago so I really don’t know why I would be bothered. Self conscious Friday I suppose. A large chuck of the spacy universe that is mind was anxious about the meeting for Dayton City Paper at 6. I had really regretted my outfit to the last one and I wanted to make a better impression at this one. I was also worried about having forgotten shorts to wear under my dress which is also an impression I didn’t want to make.

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Super Sober Spring Break Days 8, 9 and 10 (The end)

So anyway now it’s Sunday and here I sit. I know I need to do all that homework I’ve been putting off. It looms over my head like a evil dark rain cloud. All these things I’d planned on doing throughout the week. All this procrastination has wadded up and rolled like an avalanche onto my one last true day of Spring break. I go back to work and school tomorrow. Back to the stress and consistent demands, back to the daily grind, back to getting up at five in the morning. Part of me wants to put it off for just one more day…

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