A new year means exciting unforeseen adventures, incredible experiences, and all of the complications that you were definitely not prepared for. I would like to congratulate you on making it through another year, thank the lucky stars that I somehow made it with you, and fill you in on why I’ve been so absent lately, and what you can expect from this little junkyard come 2024.
My job nessecitates that I am gone for mind-bogglingly long amounts of time, and when I am working – it’s frankly hard to get back to my passion. However, for the next two months I am freer than free, so you should in theory be seeing a lot more of me. What does that mean? Glad you asked. Here is what I’m working on right now.
- New poems. Duh. That’s like, my bread and butter. You ever have bread without butter? I mean, depending on the type of bread it’s still delicious but we are speaking in metaphors here and I’m rambling look just expect more poems.
- I will be posting a 2k word excerpt of a section of my book’s rough draft. So, if you like fantasy, and you like me, and you like rough drafts, that gives you exactly one thing to look forward to!
- I want to have the cover of my book done, soonish, and I know I keep saying it but this time I am super serious so stop with all of that judgmental stating that you’re doing, I’m uncomfortable.
Not going to over-promise and under-deliver, so for now, that’s all I am promising. For now. However, if I slip in a surprise or two, do not be surprised. I act on instinct. Mostly. That and cheese puffs.
Honestly, it has been tough. And I have had tremendous highs and depressing lows. And I have been in love, lost that love, started anew, gotten a new job, and took a hammer to the foundations of my life. And lemme tell you, Bob makes all of this building look a lot easier than it is. But I feel like I’m finally standing on two feet. Steady, ready to take on whatever is coming my way, And I don’t know how long this will last, but I do know that wherever I go next, I am going to tear the walls the fuck off and become the foundation. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN – WHO KNOWS BUT IT’S PROVOCATIVE.
Whatever you’ve been up to, I hope that it is going well, and that your resolutions for 2024 are kicking some serous booty. From the Junkyard Bazaar to you, I wish you a Happy New Year!
And before you go, here is a few paragraphs from what I’m working on today:
The workers weaved with practiced precision as they decorated the Great Hall of Hatun Wasi. Days before, artisans from across Chicoplatza had painted intricate, radiant murals along the temple’s marble walls. Weeks prior, plans had been arranged for every decorum, down to their finest details.
As such, the palace was cleaned diligently, from the tops of its stone archways, to the fountains, emptied and refreshed with freshwater. Brought in piecemeal were ornate crystalline chandeliers, before being carefully assembled and strung by dozens of craftsmen. For its finest celebration in decades, none but excellence would suffice.
And by the grace of the Goddess, it was willed. The night of the first feast, the castle of bustled with an energy not seen since the birthing of the king’s youngest heir. There were Aire princes and princesses who hailed from the north, where frozen isles levitated within the clouds. There were eastern diplomats from the Auqo, whose water streamed through porous stone, its civilizations carved alongside underground chasms. The halls had even entertained Chayay spectators, the inhabits of giant mushrooms, people who weren’t blessed with the light of the twin suns.
While the festival of Sikundu, the season of the rain, had always belied a crowd, this cultural collision had been extraordinary. Word of the festive had carried through the continent, gossip flittering through courtyards, whispered amongst the public. At the greatest festival, the crowds inevitably flocked, hungry to discover if the grapevine bore fruit.
The rumor that Inti II, King of Chicoplatzta, was dying.
Himri would not have visited the festival at all if not at her brother’s behest. It would have been short travel for the princess, as the Hatun Wasi had been on castle grounds, but she had always taken great effort to avoid the palace. In the Hatun Wasi, everything was laid bare. The outer palace lacked the secrecy she craved. Tonight would not be an exception.
The handmaidens crafted Himri into someone she’d hardly recognized. Her curly hair braided over her collarbones. A silken dress draped past her shoulders before cascading into a myriad of luminescent feathers. Its’ ruffles trailed the floor as Himri waded through curious crowds that murmured as she passed.
The dress supplanted her security with a unpleasing nakedness. With every step, she ached as the corset that encased her torso contorted unnaturally. The pain was almost comforting in its distress, a distraction from hundreds of unfamiliar eyes that bored as she approached her brother’s table. Had it been too late to skulk back into her chambers?
The Junkyard Bazaar 
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