I’m a self-medicator. I always have been. My trust for doctors and the entire “health for profit” way of American medicine is practically non-existent. I believe the system sets us up to die and that corporations help us do it. There are things in our food that we know nothing of. These things make us sick, forcing us to turn to the professional medicators. The professional medicators know how to suck your insurance dry, if you have it, rendering you addicted to medicine that may have deadly side effects or may be nothing more than a placebo that your brain thinks you’re hooked on. “Naked Lunch,” anyone?
I’m also a conspiracy theorist. I’m also pretty sure I’m right. I say these things because it has become even more clear lately that I’ve got a few things wrong with me.
I’m over forty. My body is starting to rebel, coming up with more disgusting and bothersome things to do every day. I wake up and play connect the dots with the new skin tags I find. Yesterday, I made John Bonham’s symbol from the fourth Led Zeppelin album. There’s a certain loss of control involved with this body derangement and I’m not willing to give it up quite yet. Perhaps, I think, I am growing into something amazing and heretofore unseen. Perhaps I am the next stage of human evolution. Next stop, telekinesis and parts of my body that snap off and take on lives of their own while my body simply regenerates and makes me crave marathon sessions of deviant sex. “Rabid,” anyone?
I am also appreciative of the fact that as I am making small steps to get better, my body has found new and fascinating ways to get worse. It’s impressive.
Because many of you have asked for it (and you were asking nice), I’m working on getting Tarotscope published in paperback form.
By appointment only, I will do a personal Tarot reading for you. After all, I wrote a book about it; it would be silly if I didn’t do it for realsies.
My preference is to do this over webcam. That way, you can see the cards and we can actually have a conversation about what’s going on. That’s nice. People talking. Like people used to. That’s especially important during a Tarot reading, methinks. Communication is key.
All you have to do is send me an email or DM me on Twitter. We’ll set up a time, discuss payment and get the thing done.
Sometimes you just have to trust that someone knows what they’re doing.
Trust. I know what I’m doing.
So hit me up. Let me know when we can do this thing. You know you want it. You know you need it. I’m the guy to give it to you.
Reared in the post-apocalyptic fires of Northern Kentucky, Jeffery X Martin blasted his way through the border guard in late 1988. After many a road skirmish and a short interlude helping to protect a fuel tanker with a small mute child, he ended up in a Deep South Safe Zone, where he has lived for decades. When he is not writing stories or contacting the Elder Gods, X is the Keeper of the Time Portal and Guardian of the Eternal Flame, Sanctuary 7, Fourth Level, DSSZ 37912.
He is married to Hannah Lunsford, who is known in the Underground by the code name, “Cootiebug.” There is no X without Cootie. She is the driving force, guiding hand and strong support that makes all this madness possible. They live with the children they rescued from the Cyber-Nannies before the Krelm Dissolution brought forth the Prangborn Ascension and Reupholstery. Rhiannon and Bishop, both fully trained in physical and psychic combat are currently infiltrating the infrastructure, awaiting the day when they shall build sleeper cells of their own.