Shift Happens


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I’m gonna get really, REALLY personal for a minute. You might think I’m loopy.

If it makes you more comfortable, just pretend this is an excerpt from a story or something.

Some people say there’s a major, widespread shift going on in human consciousness right now.

Evolution could be one word for it. YouTube likes the words “Ascension” or “Awakening” or that it’s caused by “Wave X”.

Some people say this is happening because our solar system, which cyclically drifts up and down as it orbits the center of the galaxy, is above the galactic horizon.

You know how the Milky Way is a spiral? And those spiral arms are flattened (like a disc) as opposed to the spherical center? As the solar systems drifts up over the center-line of that disk, there’s less insulating matter between us and the galactic center. The bulk of it isn’t there anymore. That leaves us exposed to more gamma radiation than we’re used to. At least, in recorded history.

We’re not sure what effects that increase in constant gamma bombardment might have on the solar system, Earth, us.

I’ve learned all this ^^^ in the last couple days. (Of course, filtered through me, it takes on a science/astronomy vibe. lol) I stumbled upon it all while I was searching for answers for this actual ~thing~ that’s absolutely been going on with me.

I know, I know! It sounds like a bunch of sci-fi or comic book mumbo jumbo. All I have to save to that is, what would a Victorian Era person think if you tried to explain our current technology them?

 

 

 

Listen, there’s some (what even I would consider) kooky stuff out there, too. Stuff like personal messages from aliens & channeling beings from other worlds and such. That doesn’t resonate with me. But I’m wondering if each of us feels this shift in a very personal way, sifted through who we are as individuals and what we’re passionate about.

That makes perfect sense to me. If human consciousness is evolving, wouldn’t it build upon the individual’s experience of consciousness up to that point?

My whatever-this-is happens to be manifesting in a mashup of art, writing, and science.

I can trace back the shift, or beginning of the overhauling change, in my life to something like “a few months ago”, but I’m not sure exactly when things began. What I do know ~for sure~ is these last 2 weeks, everything has gone into hyperdrive.

Art has been POURING out of me. New, fresh, techniques and ideas. Like, EXTREMELY novel & seemingly out of nowhere. I’ve completed ~at least~ 2 dozen pieces. And that excludes dozens of sketches.

Since around Xmas, I’ve written (and illustrated) more in my journal than in the entire year before. Maybe more than the last 2 years combined. (Again, these complex ideas just pouring out.)

A good portion of those ideas revolve around this understanding that quantum theory doesn’t actually measure what we call matter. Quarks & Leptons & Bosons and that whole zoo of quantum particles?

They measure what we call “consciousness” & how it interacts with matter.

That’s why physicists are marveling at the “weirdness” they’re finding. They’re experimenting and discovering things that are shaking up everything we thought we knew.

It’s interesting, because I don’t have any formal training in that field, but all the things I’ve watched, read, and kinda mulled over ~for fun~ over the last few years suddenly make complete sense as a whole. The connection is crystal clear to me & I’m able to explain these complex ideas in simple, (engaging?) terms to others.

The clarity is just one astonishing aspect of all this.

So forget all that science/consciousness business for a minute!

Let’s talk about tangible, real-life examples.

Last week, I experienced this day of utter gratitude, where thankfulness was like air to me. Never in my life have I experienced such reverence for clean dishwater, a fork, or my breath, or the sky, or the fact that I can wear these beautiful tattoos–as art–right on my body. That I have a body at all. That this body holds the precious cargo of the essence that is the real me. That I get to experience this 3-D world with all these separate senses.

On that day, everything tiny, insignificant–just everything–I did was infused with gratitude. And that intense thankfulness permeated everyone around me. I didn’t have to say a word! People saw. They knew there was some extra sparkle all over me. The joy of sharing that sparkle! Amazing, amazing.

If that’s what “awakening” feels like, then I want EVERYONE to experience it.

I live in what I guess you’d call a small ‘city’, or a sizable town. Big & constructed but no skyscrapers. You know the kind. All the roads are paved. In my neighborhood, everyone has a little patch of land boxed off by driveways and little fences and clear edges. There are some trees around, but it is by no means a “natural” setting.

Well, last Saturday, I was at a local hostel on a quiet, foggy night, set in rolling, tree-covered hills. A stream flows close to the house, there’s a pond across the street & a perfectly spiraling 400-year-old tree right outside the front door. We won’t even talk about the overnight snowfall. Or that it was the first New Moon following the winter solstice. Or my sacred experience with the wind the next morning.

The people gathered that night were all artists, musicians, composers, writers, book people, actors, teachers, etc (a.k.a. ‘creative folk’).

That night was, in a word: magical. So much energy in that place: the music, the conversations, the smiles, the hugs, the openness, connection, just the whole vibe. It was completely “secular”, but, wow, the frequency of us all gathered together? It felt like “church” or “temple” in the purest possible meaning of those words. So much genuine love. Everyone knew very early on that we were sharing a special place & time.

But we also knew it was more. Something unseen, something special, something deeper.

I know that sounds hippie-dippy. It doesn’t change the truth.

Overall, nowadays, there’s just this ~ease~ to my life. Things flow. Unexpected money and gifts and opportunities keep materializing.

I’m not complaining in my head about every little thing that’s slowing me down, or knocking me off track. Obstacles and I just flow around each other and keep on going. There’s no needless tension. Life is peaceful. And my empathy–wow–we’re talking a HUGE shift.

I’m in the moment, savoring its presence & thankful I get to experience each one. I never knew I was missing this amazingness until it arrived.

I went from sucking down coffee every waking hour, to now I can’t drink enough water. The more I drink, the more I want. And I keep craving fruits & veggies in this insistent way I’ve never, ever felt before.

I could go on.

Something phenomenal continues to take place inside me. I don’t know how far it will go. But I don’t want it to stop.

And, the coolest thing, as I share what I’m experiencing, more and more people in my life are recognizing evidence of this shift inside themselves.

I think it’s kind of like my idea that quarks actually measure consciousness. Once we start noticing the shift, things seem weird at first. But then, as we get accustomed to that newness, we begin to understand it.

For the record, this is not a story or an excerpt. This is my 100% real-life experience. I mean it.

I AM SO CURIOUS!
Who else out there is experiencing something like this?
Please share.

If it makes you more comfortable, just pretend you’re telling a story or something. 😀

 

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Where Holiday Magic Hides


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Stuff gets jumbled, and left out, for kids like me—kids born too close to Christmas. Instead of getting two holidays in one, we really only get half of each.

I remember smiling as big as I could when grownups wished me Merry Birthday. Then they smiled back when I put a bow on my head, because, see, I was a gift. But the bow never stayed on since little bits of wrapping paper were already stuck on the sticky part.

So this season, for me, has never been about Christmas or my birthday. I mean, presents are cool, food and family are nice and all that.

But the lights.

Lights are special. Unusual. These bright, colored beings all shiny in the night where, at every other time of the year, there’s darkness I’d rather ignore.

But the lights make me look. They want to prove they’re special and alive with their pops and sparks and colors burning against the night. Glowing. Mesmerizing.

As a kid, I’d lie on the floor in my footy pajamas, wrapped in a blanket, the rest of the house dark, everyone asleep, silence all around me, and just stare at the tree’s lights forever. I’d breathe them in. As they sparkled, and I crossed me eyes so the lights would go fuzzy and get even sparklier, that’s where the magic hid.

Not just in my tree, or just in my lights, or only while I was alone. Sometimes, a lot of us could see the magic all together at once.

My trailer-park family would pile in the truck and drive around to the biggest displays. It’s funny how they were always at the same houses that gave out the best Halloween candy.

The most amazing thing was when we’d round a curve, and the pine trees would open up to a winter cornfield, and there—magic—out of nowhere. Surprise lights in surprise places in the night.

Those were the ones where the most magic hid.

I Have Too Many Damn Words Inside Me


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I’ve accepted it. I have too many damn words inside me.

Maybe the worst thing about having too many damn words: I’ll never be able to get them all out.

Maybe the best thing about having too many damn words: I get to curate which ones I set free.

(You know the worst thing about that best thing? It scares the hell out of me.)

I alone have the power to decide which words I let out. Like, nothing I say in real-life conversations or online or on paper gets through without me giving it permission. Every word in any form I ever communicate is my personal responsibility.

(I’m scaring myself again.)

But I should be scared. Because every word matters.

I want to remember that. Not occasionally, but at the exact moment I’m curating each of the too many damn words I’m going to set free.

Our Turn To Be Allies


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It’s time for the LGBTQ+ community to be allies. Tomorrow is Sunday, ya know, “church day” for a lot of people. And there are some AMAZING people, who identify as Christian, who agree that love is love.

A lot of things will be proclaimed from pulpits tomorrow: some gracious, and some not. I’m thinking about those who love their faith and many of its beliefs but will struggle with the conservative response on marriage equality. Christians who are closeted, kids with different beliefs going to church with their parents, folks who are torn inside over things.

That’s tough stuff to deal with. The clash of core beliefs. The inner struggle to marry an accepting heart with an unaccepting faith.

So, be mindful of that, fam.

Anyone who has been an ally to us, deserves us as allies in return. Whatever they need, however we can support.

And not just Christians. There are loving people struggling in every belief system right now.

Love is love, and our love can’t stop at the borders of religion.

An Open Letter To Everyone From Back Then


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Dear Everyone I knew “Back Then”,

Yes, I am gay.-ish sometimes. Or something like it. Somewhere on the spectrum at the far end from what the world calls straight.

I’ve always been that way.

Even “back then” when I was your classmate, co-worker, teacher, neighbor, friend.

But, see, at times, I was scared of letting that facet of who I am show. I had to hide it. Not for myself, but for you. For those of you who would, had I let you see that part of me, make a lot more out of it than I do. For those of you who, now that I’m not scared anymore, “just can’t believe it”.

In most ways I’m still exactly the same as when you knew me “back then”. The only thing that’s changed is that you now get to know all of me. If you choose to. And some of you can’t handle that. It’s too much. I’m not the person you thought you knew.

But that’s not really about me. It’s about you.

Coming out doesn’t happen just once. I have to do it over and over again.

It’s easy with new folks I’m just meeting “right now”. It’s no big deal, not even a thing. It’s just who I am, all of me, every facet shining right there in the open if they want to see it. But for folks I knew “back then”, revealing the fullness of me is a scary, anxious, pulse-racing thing.

Every.single.time.

Some of you amazing “back then” people have nodded, asked questions, maybe cried a little, hugged me, and transformed in front of my eyes, through the phone, or in my arms into a “right now” person. Thank you for that. I love you. Thank you for loving every facet of me, for having a heart big enough to appreciate all of me.

For you others, I’m sorry if you feel like I lied to you, back then, when I wasn’t strong enough, brave enough, to share all of me. Maybe that was wrong of me. I don’t know for sure. But I can’t rewind to “back then”, because I’m overwhelmed with joy, bursting with life, thrilled to finally be living with every part of me shining right here in the “right now”.

Maybe you can see how important that is to me. How much bigger my smile is, how much lighter I seem.

If not, okay, you can live in the back then. But me? Nah. I’m loving where I’m at right now.

Love and facets and more love,

Me

Who Wants (or NEEDS) A Mini Writing Retreat?


HEY WRITER FRIENDS

I wanna do a mini, weekend writing retreat. Just get away, hang out, do some laughing, eating, writing. When & where depend on who’s interested. Here’s what I’m thinking:

– Sometime in July or August. Like a Fri night – Sun deal?
– At an AirBNB. Either one with multiple bedrooms available ~or~ an entire house. We’d keep the nightly price between $30 & $75 per person, depending on the place & # of writers.
– It’d be great to keep the travel time down for anyone driving. So, maybe in Ohio (near the lake?), Indiana, eastern Michigan (Detroit?), western Pennsylvania (Pittsburgh?).
– If you’re interested in organizing a regional thing outside this area, say so! It’d be fun to have a few writer cells connecting in person.

Interested? Lmk! Let’s make it happen!

Poppycock To The Poppycockers


Sometimes I need a break from writing. So I take one. Of course, this goes against the one-size-fits-all advice of “you must always write everyday”. To use an old-skool word as my response to that: POPPYCOCK.

A friend found an old silverware box he wants to store his knitting needles in. He asked if we could trade art projects: I’d paint the box for him & he’d knit me about 300 miles of i-cord I need for a project.

I said yes. And I totally win on that trade. By a long shot.

His only criteria was that he’d like a spiral on the box, which was based on another super simple project I’d done before. I brainstormed, using what I know about his interests, to come up with a creative take on a spiral. I went with the tail of the Indian god Hanuman.

Here’s the project through its various stages:

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I think it turned out great. And, while I wasn’t really in a writing ~mood~ before starting this project, I now feel the itch to write. This process, which is definitely not writing, freed up something inside me so I can dive back into that world.

Making art as a reset works for me. Writing every day works for some people. But not all of us. Those “always” & “never” writing rules used to bug me. Not because I felt guilty for not following them, but because I get plain annoyed with didactic advice.

I won’t give any here. But I will say this: POPPYCOCK to the POPPYCOCKERS. As unique as we all are, it’s ridiculous to believe we all can (or even should) follow the same process.

K. Well, Hanuman’s done & he’s nudging me to get back to the words. Thanks to him, I’m ready to do just that.

Astronomical Risk & Reward ~or~ My Stellar New Agent


Astropop fan art by Crystal Smalls Ord - @SmallsOrd)

So let’s say you write a book. Well, manuscript. And, since it’s your 6th, you rank them all in order, right? Maybe on a scale of omgsuckage to yes-zomg-THE-best-so-far. And this newest one, you know (no, KNOW) it’s your strongest, deepest, brightest. Your CP’s & beta readers, some of whom have read 2 or 3 of your previous manuscripts, absolutely love (no, LOVE) it & also feel it’s—by far—your shiniest.

Then, let’s say, your agent, who signed you with a completely different manuscript… doesn’t feel quite the same way about this newest one…

Your gut believes so strongly in this book (which you title If Found Return To Astropop). What it is, what it represents, its structure, the characters (no, the CHARACTERS), the ~things~ it explores. Honestly, you have no choice but to trust your gut. You need an agent who believes in this book as much as you do, who gets it through and through.

You’re scared as shit.

You worry.

You delay.

Finally, you find your tongue.

A conversation happens.

Your agent is way gracious. Your agent wants the best for you and your career. You believe you know what that is—how this latest manuscript fits into that grand plan. Thus and so, you find yourself plunging (again) into the query trenches. You’re excited and hopeful! (But also, part of you is freaked the hell out. Because what if you’re wrong? What if your gut lied like a capricious, little scoundrel? What if you just made a huge (no, HUGE) mistake?)

No turning back, there you are.

Well, there I was.

And the magic I believed in, the comets and rainbows I hoped for with Astro, rushed in and glowed deep down in that trench with me.

  • 2 days into querying: 3 full requests (WT-actual-F?!?!)
  • Overall comparison:
    • Previously queried manuscript: 35+ long weeks of querying, 5 requests
    • This manuscript: 5 short weeks of querying, 14 requests
  • This time around, at 35 days in: 1st offer of representation.
    • Then a 2nd.
    • And a 3rd.
    • AND WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING IS THIS REAL???

The agent who wooed me, whose gut feeling matches my gut feeling? Well, I sent the query, and she requested the full the next day. A few weeks passed. Then an offer (A SACRED OFFER!) came in from a different (also amazing) agent. I nudged everyone: fulls, partials, outstanding queries.

This agent—MY NEW AGENT—I didn’t hear back from right away as I did with others. But, then, the very next day, an email to slay all emails. She was hella excited about the story. She wanted in!

DANCING. FLAILING. Composure. A phone call. Chat, discussion, vision-sharing. Questions, planning, gushing. So much Astro love. An understanding of my career goals, needs, and desires.

This book I believed in, this story & these characters which thrust me into this risky move? They found a champion. They found someone who understands them. They found someone so exuberant about them that a follow-up email illuminated my inbox approximately 60 seconds after our call ended. That was the best.

And that agent is none other than the phenomenal Sara Crowe.

Sara (can I say this?) Effin (There. I said it. Kind of.) Crowe

Listen, when I took that soul-shaking step to follow my gut, I had no idea how it would turn out. Was I reaching for a star I’d never reach? Would I languish in the purgatory of Queryland for eternity? Would any agent, any agent at all, connect with this story?

And, yes, PLEASE CELEBRATE WITH ME! (ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG) But I also want you to take something more sacred and magical away from this post. Something more than stats and timing (and Lucas doing weird things with parentheses & POV switches).

Ready?

Others can guide you, and that’s an awesome, welcome, necessary thing at times.

But, ultimately, ain’t nobody got you like you got you.

At the risk of sounding like a damn greeting card and whatnot: be that unshakable mix of brave and savvy. Maybe it’ll result in a spectacular failure. Or maybe not. (More greeting cardiness coming. Brace yourself.) The only risk you’ll ever regret is the one you were too scared to take.

Or something.

Btw, did I mention? I have a new agent. Her name is Sara Crowe. And she kinda loves this risky book I wrote titled: If Found Return To Astropop. She digs it muchly, actually. And, wow. Just wow.

*commence astronomically uninhibited Squee Fest*

BONUS MATERIAL: Astro Ink Reveal

My tattoo artist is booked forever far out. Over 6 months ago, I scheduled a session for this past Saturday. Last Wednesday I received the first offer. Saturday, Crystal Ord’s fan art of Astropop was indelibly tattooed on my arm. As hard as it was, I waited until now, until this Offer of Rep post, to share that final image.

Here it is! Stage 2 of a gifted artist’s (and Astro fangirl for life’s) interpretation of non-binary Robin “Astropop” Chicory with a few beautiful symbols from the manuscript. I adore (no, ADORE) it. Muchly.

Astrotat1 Astrotat2 Astrotat3

Also, possibly my next tattoo???

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Querying – Savvy Little Tip?


I sure do like some spreadsheets and charts

I’ve queried four manuscripts. As my craft developed, my stories moved closer towards marketable, and my aptitude for the actual querying process grew, the request rates slowly climbed.
1st queried manuscript = 2%
2nd queried manuscript = 3%
3rd queried manuscript = 7%
4th queried manuscript = 32% (so far)

That’s an unbelievable increase on the 4th one, like, BOOM. Even now, I’m floored by it.

The core of what writers must do is (we know, we know, we know) craft an amazing story. Solid hook. Identifiable conflict. Unique voice. Unforgettable characters. Consistent worldbuilding. Tight dialogue. Emotional resonance. [Insert a seemingly million other requirements here]. The writing has to be not just strong, but irresistible. And, let’s be honest, the story needs to possess the promise of $cha-ching$ flowing silently beneath the words.

The writing is the most important part, but it’s far from the only element we have to master. And every separate skillset only comes with practice. You know: effort, rejection, frustration, painfully starting over with a fresh manuscript, bringing the scars and callouses and wisdom into the process the next time. Trying again.

This time around, when preparing to query, I became conscious of something I’d been aware of, but never purposefully honed in on—the most common sample lengths agents ask for.
– 5 pages
– 10 pages
– 1 chapter
– 3 chapters
– 50 pages

This little lightbulb went off. Towards the end of my revisions, I focused on making sure those breaking points were loaded with as much tension as the narrative allowed at that point in the story. My goal: to (hopefully) leave the agent thirsty at the end of the sample, to spark that desire to request more pages. Which is the point.

We know to do this at chapter endings. But check this:

When querying, we need to treat the end of each of those sample lengths the same way we would a chapter ending.

For what they’re worth without context, examples of my breaking points:

5 pages

I sighed, and she pulled me closer to stain my cheek with what was left of her cherry-red lipstick.

“Katers demands I hang out with her tonight,” I said, pulling away. “She’ll tell me if I need to quasi-freak-out over this unholy union or totally Astro-freak-out.”

Olivia nudged me from behind, jangling my keys.

Gma pointed at me. “Check in with your daddy first.”

10 pages

I pretend-counted on my fingers. “If we’re including wicked stepsisters, crazy stalkers, and secret boyfriends, then that’s, oh, I’d say, four-point-five. Ish.”

Katers rushed towards me and grabbed my sleeves. “Boyfriend? Why is this the first your supposed best friend in all of creation is hearing about this love connection?”

Love. Ha.

1 chapter

The shadow in the greenhouse shrank to normal size, then the light went out. I grabbed my suitcase and rushed to the house, inside, up the stairs, and into the dark bedroom designated as mine. I peeked through the curtains. Axel Chicory, formerly known as Daddy, looked so inconsequential, a lone silhouette crossing the big lawn.

The New Moon floated directly above him, but its magic had already run its course.

I let the curtains fall closed between us, then locked my bedroom door.

3 chapters

Setting my journal in the grass, I focused on the other book. Plain, black cover. Not the unnamable blue-black of the night sky. Truly boring black. I hooked my finger under the cover’s edge, half-expecting the wind to pick up or a meteorite to land in the orchard when I opened it.

But nothing happened.

So I turned the first blank page.

And then another.

Until I found words.

This journal belongs to:
PIPPOPOTAMUS

I jettisoned the book and jumped up, smacking at my bare legs where the blasted thing touched them.

50 pages

The Heart of Joven.

Gpa had the young whiz-kid architect design the house around it. Ten sycamores planted by my Great-Gma decades earlier. Her hands began the grafting, and Gpa’s continued shaping it when she joined the stars. Axel and I had even touched and whispered to it. Four generations of the Chicory family recorded in the growth rings of a single being who had outlived two generations already.

The third was too busy to love on the tree. The fourth was too scared of screwing it up. Also, too wounded by the mere sight of it to look at it a nanosecond longer.

Among the million things we need to nail as writers-seeking-to-become-traditionally-pubbed-authors, this little piece is a secret weapon. I mean, it’s not a magic bullet. Nothing is. But it’s the savvy thing to do, a special tool to add to the toolbox we’re slowly filling. I believe it played a part—even if a small one—in that ridiculously unbelievable request rate. (Still reeling!)

We all need every hint, trick, key, and password we can get our hands on. Yes? I hope this one maybe helps you.

Invisible Ink! Yesss this manuscript garnered A LOT of requests in its 5 weeks in the trenches. And, maybe, perhaps, it has even gone beyond simple requests. 😉 Pretttty sure there will be another EXCITING post late next week…

Querying In A Surreal Sort Of Way


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Something strange & beautiful has happened.

A lot of you, who know I’m “agented”, have asked about recent events & whatnot. And, I assume, agents could be swinging by to do a bit of sleuthing. *proffers tray of hors d’oeuvres* *uncorks wine*

Maybe we should start here: Publishing is a quirky kind of land. No two authors’ journeys are the same. There are certain boundaries & cornerstones, but there’s a lot of room to dance & frolic inside those borders.

As succinctly as I can explain where I’m at right now:
– The amazing Louise Fury is continuing to represent and submit my novel, Phreak Show.
– With her blessing (and a glowing reference upon request!) I’m seeking representation for If Found Return to Astropop & future manuscripts.

Weird, right? Maybe? Idk, it feels right for me & my stories & writing career.

It’s not a development I ever dreamed of happening. At the same time, it feels completely natural. I mean, this is the experience I’m experiencing, which makes it perfect & exciting. So here I am wandering through this magically surreal land where I’m on sub but also back in the query trenches. Strange indeed!

What I’m finding is, man, I’ve learned a lot of stuff (desperately want forward momentum, but there’s serenity in the process.

I’ve always been a fan of the unconventional. I’m a risk taker when it counts and rarely regret following my intuition. And I feel strongly that now is the time to find a champion for Astro & future books in the same vein. (There may be a recent post nearby about this exact thing…)

So, yes, I’m querying again. And the initial response to those first queries has been overwhelmingly positive. (Mindbogglingly so!) Exactly as I hoped for & believed. We’ll see how things play out. I must confess, I’m already imagining the amazing story this is going to make—one I’ll share at future conferences, etc. 😀

If anyone with a vested interest is curious about the details, please ask. And seriously, agents, Louise is approachable for agent-to-agent conversations. (And, for the record, I’m A-OKAY with you reaching out to me if Astropop’s premise interests you. https://lucashargis.com/if-found-return-to-astropop/ *winks forever*)

LET’S DO THIS

*skips across Publishing’s beautiful, bizarro landscape*