Nothing much to report (again). I'll keep reminding my readers that Elon "Free Speech" Musk suspended my Twitter account for the crime of exercizing my free speech; and that since then, I've been fairly active on substack, which I discovered has its own little Twitterish zone called "Notes". It virtually looks and acts like Twitter and has the same advantage of generating nearly zero conversation no matter how hard one tries to spark it.
Almost done writing my latest epilogue to my 1,000+-page novel about an American private eye living in Jamaica. When I had finished that epic novel, I thought I was done, but realized later I needed an Epilogue. Even after that, I felt, again, that more needed to be told, so I penned what I called an "Aftermath". That one seemed to finally, definitively put the nail in the saga's coffin; until a couple of years later, I started playing around in my mind with various scenes and themes that could prolong the story -- this time with the ingenious device of making the narrator the first person -- effectively moi -- going to Las Vegas to meet my main character (and subsidiary characters), in an effort I titled "Post-Strip". When I finally finished that, about a year ago, I wouldn't have imagined any more needed to be written. And yet, here I am, halfway through yet another appendage, continuing on from where I last left off at the end of "Post-Strip", which intimated that I, having accepted the invitation of my main characters Dean Marco and his wife, to stay in a cabana on their property south of Montego Bay, would continue keeping them alive, so to speak, by using this opportunity of free room and board in a paradise of sorts to continue writing about them. A perfect foil for further writing, though I hadn't intended on it at the time. Anywho...
