IMFKAG

.gitignore

@@ -5,3 +5,4 @@ _site
 public/
 node_modules/
 resources/
+/.hugo_build.lock

_drafts/2018-01-17-creativity-does-not-necessitate-originality.markdown

@@ -1,42 +0,0 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Creativity does not necessitate originality"
-date:	2018-01-17
----
-
-  #### Or: No good comes from a vacuum
-
-![](/img/1*J9SQ1JdVMe1pSB-jePs1zg.jpeg)Photo by [Greg Rakozy](https://unsplash.com/photos/oMpAz-DN-9I?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/creation?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Even the above statement is not original. (No, really…you’ll see…)
-
-All writers are influenced by what we read, whether conscious or unconscious. For example, my writing style takes several cues from Terry Pratchett, sometimes very deliberately.[1] And there are no doubt countless unconscious influences feeding into my life in ways I don’t even realise.
-
-So in that sense I am in no way original. But in that same sense, it doesn’t **matter**.
-
-Stealing’s no good.[2] But remixing is — has always been, will always *be* — the foundation of creativity.
-
-Creativity is naturally cyclical. Readers write, and writers read. After all, there are only three[5] plots.
-
-It’s not just writing. Everyone is influenced by everything. Our imagination isn’t entirely our own — all media that we consume, all experiences that we have, every last thing that we see — gets thrown into one pot. Much like a baking recipe, the blend is original although the ingredients are not.
-
-Accepting the art of the remix is the first step on the journey to finding a voice **— YOUR** **voice**. Your personal experience (original by nature) will blend into everything else that shapes us as people, all those influences known and unknown.
-
-And that’s as original as it gets.
-
-So it’s a poorly kept secret my drafts section is overflowing. This is one more of those drafts finally being shoved out into the world. My original title was thus:
-
-![](/img/1*Y6Sd0_RYfJ1GYeszDo8ZbQ.png)Then Medium dropped this on me:
-
-[**Don’t Worry About Being Original — Everything’s a Remix**  
-*One of the biggest limiting beliefs I run into when talking to aspiring writers or creators is that they don’t have…*medium.com](https://medium.com/personal-growth/dont-worry-about-being-original-everything-s-a-remix-6fbb06ab1683 "https://medium.com/personal-growth/dont-worry-about-being-original-everything-s-a-remix-6fbb06ab1683")[](https://medium.com/personal-growth/dont-worry-about-being-original-everything-s-a-remix-6fbb06ab1683)And here we stand. The same sentiment, much of the same words. Classic example of case-in-point, in a meta sense. Pleasingly neat, actually.
-
-[1] Footnotes being just one recently rediscovered example
-
-[2] Unless you’re Robin Hood[3]
-
-[3] Sidenote[4]: is a rhyme split across a sentence and its footnote still a rhyme?
-
-[4] Footnote, sidenote…notes aplenty…Dear oh dear.
-
-[5] Replace ‘three’ with x number as appropriate. Doesn’t change the sentiment.
-
-  

_drafts/2018-02-26-meeting-my-match.markdown

@@ -1,12 +0,0 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Meeting my match"
-date:	2018-02-26
----
-
-  #### Quoted By The Goat
-
-#### Matchbox Quotes Day 49 [2018–02–26]
-
-![](/img/1*HtuQdTpgJ7OV-GxNFaTMAA.png)
-> Igniting a duel of hearts  

_drafts/2018-05-06-we-fell-too-hard-too-fast.markdown

@@ -1,13 +0,0 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"we fell too hard too fast"
-date:	2018-05-06
----
-
-  ![](/img/1*bgClHJxffITMMUiAHTK5WQ.jpeg)Photo by [Ayko Kehl](https://unsplash.com/photos/N7lk60VTFfQ?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/falling?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)we fell too hard too fast
-
-shattered too finely
-
-an exquisite fracturing
-
-  

_drafts/2018-07-23-they-are-the-dreameater-moths.markdown

@@ -1,29 +0,0 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"They are the dreameater moths"
-date:	2018-07-23
----
-
-  ![](/img/1*RZnY_kyFebNwwVE6sMJA6g.jpeg)Photo by [Timo Vijn](https://unsplash.com/photos/P8MrF0r4YUU?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/moth?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Fluttering in the edgewise gap between this world and the fantasy realm
-
-Quivering ominously on gauzy nebula-wings they chitter wordlessly
-
-They are the dreameater moths
-
-Nibbling holes in aspirations, chewing up hopes
-
-Warbling all the while
-
-Half-eaten ambitions, devoured desires
-
-They feast, and they sing
-
-Consuming delusion and delight alike
-
-Strange songs, these make — strange songs from strange beasts
-
-They are the dreameater moths
-
-Protect yours from them
-
-  

assets/css/custom.css

@@ -23,3 +23,23 @@ a:hover {
     background-color: var(--splash) !important;
     border-bottom: 1px dashed var(--primary);
 }
+
+#isso-thread > h4 {
+  color: white;
+}
+.isso-textarea, .isso-input-wrapper > input {
+  color: white !important;
+  background-color: transparent !important;
+  border-color: white !important;
+  border-radius: 0px !important;
+}
+.isso-post-action > input {
+    background-color: var(--primary) !important;
+    color: black !important;
+    border-color: var(--splash) !important;
+    border-radius: 0px !important;
+}
+::placeholder {
+  color: white;
+  opacity: 1;
+}

config.toml

@@ -29,7 +29,7 @@ sectionPagesMenu = "main" # Enable menu system for lazy bloggers
   description = "No Description Provided" # Suggested, controls default description meta
   author = "Arona Jones" # Optional, controls author name display on posts
   hide_author = false # Optional, set true to hide author name on posts
-  disable_csp = false # Optional, set true to disable content security policy
+  disable_csp = true # Optional, set true to disable content security policy
   images = [
     "https://source.unsplash.com/collection/983219/2000x1322"
   ] # Suggested, controls default Open Graph images
@@ -76,11 +76,14 @@ sectionPagesMenu = "main" # Enable menu system for lazy bloggers
   url = "/categories/fiction/"
   weight = 3
 
+[[menu.main]]
+  name = " Southpaw Poetry"
+  url = "/categories/poetic"
+  weight = 5
+
 [[menu.main]]
   name = "Search"
   identifier = "search"
   url = "/search/"
   post = "<svg aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"i-search\" viewBox=\"0 0 32 32\" width=\"14\" height=\"14\" fill=\"none\" stroke=\"currentcolor\" stroke-linecap=\"round\" stroke-linejoin=\"round\" stroke-width=\"3\"><circle cx=\"14\" cy=\"14\" r=\"12\" /><path d=\"M23 23 L30 30\" /></svg>"
   weight = 1000
-
-

content/post/2016/03/to-give/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,25 @@
++++
+categories = ["life", "me"]
+date = "2016-03-08T00:00:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "Something has to give"
+description = "Finding the balance of light in the dark"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**cdd20-MDBojqzl7Mg-unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "CDD20"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/nzftJsNv_GA"
++++
+
+Dramatic and cynical. That's me. Sometimes dramatic and morbid. Frequently dramatic and self-derisive. But not often dramatic and funny. Or indeed, dramatic and happy. 
+
+Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense, all things considered.But of course it doesn't because I don't.
+
+I am a fundamental conflict with no visible resolution. My life philosophy is founded on the impossible - two diametrically opposed sets of beliefs. It shouldn't work. It doesn't work and yet it is.
+
+I cannot embrace it, because it is senseless. I cannot change it, for I cannot find favour for one set of ideals over another. 
+
+But I *cannot* go on like this. Permanently torn, personality and belief in two separate facets.

content/post/2017/11/eureka-moments-never-had/index.markdown

@@ -1,11 +1,15 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Eureka moments never had"
-date:	2017-11-29
----
++++
+date = "2017-11-29"
+layout = "post"
+categories = ["life", "antiwork"]
+title = "Eureka moments never had"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**7PVzzRFriu35p-sJV4rwLA*"
++++
+> “Little particles of inspiration sleet through the universe all the time traveling through the densest matter in the same way that a neutrino passes through a candyfloss haystack, and most of them miss.” — Terry Pratchett, Sourcery
 
-  ![](/img/1*7PVzzRFriu35p-sJV4rwLA.jpeg)via https://unsplash.com
-> “Little particles of inspiration sleet through the universe all the time traveling through the densest matter in the same way that a neutrino passes through a candyfloss haystack, and most of them miss.” — Terry Pratchett, SourceryMost of them never find the right target.
+Most of them never find the right target.
 
 The human mind possesses an overwhelming capacity for creativity that continually overwhelms me. Society, science, technology….humanity…has advanced in directions that were previously unimaginable, nevermind thought impossible. And no doubt it will continue to do so.
 
@@ -18,7 +22,9 @@ Everyone is a creative. Humanity’s greatest strength is imagination, be it app
 However, human society currently isn’t conducive to that.
 
 
-> “I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.” ― Stephen Jay GouldI believe people having to work to survive is criminal. It’s one of the reasons I support Universal Basic Income. What if people were freed from having to go to jobs they probably hate just to be able to survive…to be able to keep working? What if this insane cycle was broken, via automation or otherwise? What then?
+> “I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.” ― Stephen Jay Gould
+
+I believe people having to work to survive is criminal. It’s one of the reasons I support Universal Basic Income. What if people were freed from having to go to jobs they probably hate just to be able to survive…to be able to keep working? What if this insane cycle was broken, via automation or otherwise? What then?
 
 If it were ever allowed to happen, maybe it’d lead to people not knowing what to do with the time they’d suddenly been granted. But I don’t think so.
 
@@ -28,4 +34,4 @@ My inner cynic demands I add a caveat here. In all of the above, think is operat
 
 When inspiration hits, grab it with both hands. Spend your time wisely, for it is limited and irreplaceable. **Create. *Live.***
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/01/angels-got-their-halos/index.markdown

@@ -1,15 +1,25 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"“The best way out is always through. Angels got their halos walking through the fires of hell”"
-date:	2018-01-21
----
++++
+title = "“The best way out is always through. Angels got their halos walking through the fires of hell”"
+date = "2018-01-21"
+categories = ["life"]
+tags = ["AL"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**JU7deLCU5l54IDbLwO5M2A*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Mohamed Nohassi"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/UKX_DwNKXSA?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
++++
 
-  ![](/img/1*JU7deLCU5l54IDbLwO5M2A.jpeg)Photo by [Mohamed Nohassi](https://unsplash.com/photos/UKX_DwNKXSA?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/fire?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Those are the words of someone who shattered my trust. And yet I still repeat those words like a mantra.
+Those are the words of someone who shattered my trust. And yet I still repeat those words like a mantra.
 
 Despite all she took from me, she gave me those words. Those words of power. Perhaps they were even worth all the pain. Perhaps. Because they are so fundamentally true. The only answer, when life sucks, is *keep going*.
 
+> “If you’re *going through hell*, keep going.” — *Winston Churchill*
 
-> “If you’re *going through hell*, keep going.” — *Winston Churchill*Churchill said it first, of course. But I prefer the Angels version. Not just because of the special meaning it holds to me, but for the extra emotional punch.
+Churchill said it first, of course. But I prefer the Angels version. Not just because of the special meaning it holds to me, but for the extra emotional punch.
 
 Imagine an angel.
 
@@ -25,8 +35,8 @@ What she always has the choice in, however, is to keep going. Step after step, d
 
 Take the path. Walk through the fire. Emerge as a phoenix.
 
-If fire still licks around you, remember — just *keep going. *You cannot go back — and to stop would invite the flame to consume you.
+If fire still licks around you, remember — just *keep going.* You cannot go back — and to stop would invite the flame to consume you.
 
-*If only I were better at listening to what I preach…*
+<sup>*If only I were better at listening to what I preach…*</sup>
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/01/burn-fierce-burn-bright/index.markdown

@@ -8,21 +8,21 @@ title = "Burn fierce, burn bright"
   name = "header thumbnail"
   src = "**MaUmG4lXNv3gyWEvruDQFA*"
 +++
-Crimson like full lusty lips, beckoning you into a kiss. The flame of passion.
+Crimson. Lips beckoning you into a kiss. The flame of passion.
 
-Electric blue like the roar of a blowtorch, the crackle and snap of lightning sparks. The flame of drive.
+Electric blue. The roar of a blowtorch, the crackle and snap of lightning sparks. The flame of drive.
 
-Clear like open air, shimmering on a hot summers day. The flame of spirit.
+Clear. Open air, shimmering on a hot summers day. The flame of spirit.
 
-White like a melded rainbow, colours melted together into searing snow. The flame of hope.
+White. A melded rainbow, colours fused together into searing snow. The flame of hope.
 
-Yellow like gilt leaf wrought defiant on crisp white page, glowing against. The flame of optimism.
+Yellow. Gilt leaf wrought defiant on crisp white page, glowing against. The flame of optimism.
 
-Cherry red like the core of a star, the roaring celestial furnace. The flame of strength.
+Cherry Red. The core of a star, the roaring celestial furnace. The flame of strength.
 
-Blood red like the torrential force pumping through your veins, the rush of power and vitality. The flame of life.
+Blood Red. Torrential force pumping through your veins, the rush of power and vitality. The flame of life.
 
-Pink like petals on the most delicate of roses, wafer thin and dancing to the breeze. The flame of love.
+Pink. Delicate rose petals, wafer thin and dancing to the breeze. The flame of love.
 
 <span style="color: #700F00;">Crimson</span>, <span style="color: #7DD2DF">electric blue</span>, <span style="color: #00000000;-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0.8px;
 -webkit-text-stroke-color: white;">clear</span>, white, <span style="color: yellow">yellow</span>, <span style="color: #CD001A">cherry red</span>, <span style="color: #7D221D">blood red</span>, <span style="color: pink;">pink</span>.

content/post/2018/01/creativity-does-not-necessitate-originality/index.markdown

@@ -0,0 +1,52 @@
++++
+date = "2018-01-17"
+layout = "post"
+categories = ["life", "writing"]
+title = "Creativity does not necessitate originality"
+description = "Or: No good comes from a vacuum"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**J9SQ1JdVMe1pSB-jePs1z*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Greg Rakozy"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/oMpAz-DN-9I?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
++++
+Even the above statement is not original. (No, really…you’ll see…)
+
+All writers are influenced by what we read, whether conscious or unconscious. For example, my writing style takes several cues from Terry Pratchett, sometimes very deliberately.[^1] And there are no doubt countless unconscious influences feeding into my life in ways I don’t even realise.
+
+So in that sense I am in no way original. But in that same sense, it doesn’t **matter**.
+
+Stealing’s no good.[^2] But remixing is — has always been, will always *be* — the foundation of creativity.
+
+Creativity is naturally cyclical. Readers write, and writers read. After all, there are only three[^5] plots.
+
+It’s not just writing. Everyone is influenced by everything. Our imagination isn’t entirely our own — all media that we consume, all experiences that we have, every last thing that we see — gets thrown into one pot. Much like a baking recipe, the blend is original although the ingredients are not.
+
+Accepting the art of the remix is the first step on the journey to finding a voice **— YOUR** **voice**. Your personal experience (original by nature) will blend into everything else that shapes us as people, all those influences known and unknown.
+
+And that’s as original as it gets.
+
+So it’s a poorly kept secret my drafts section is overflowing. This is one more of those drafts finally being shoved out into the world. My original title was thus:
+
+![](1*Y6Sd0_RYfJ1GYeszDo8ZbQ.png)
+
+Then Medium dropped this on me:
+
+[**Don’t Worry About Being Original — Everything’s a Remix**  
+*One of the biggest limiting beliefs I run into when talking to aspiring writers or creators is that they don’t have…* medium.com](https://medium.com/personal-growth/dont-worry-about-being-original-everything-s-a-remix-6fbb06ab1683 "https://medium.com/personal-growth/dont-worry-about-being-original-everything-s-a-remix-6fbb06ab1683")[](https://medium.com/personal-growth/dont-worry-about-being-original-everything-s-a-remix-6fbb06ab1683)
+And here we stand. The same sentiment, much of the same words. Classic example of case-in-point, in a meta sense. Pleasingly neat, actually.
+
+[^1]: Footnotes being just one recently rediscovered example
+
+[^2]: Unless you’re Robin Hood[^3]
+
+[^3]: Sidenote[^4]: is a rhyme split across a sentence and its footnote still a rhyme?
+
+[^4]: Footnote, sidenote…notes aplenty…Dear oh dear.
+
+[^5]: Replace ‘three’ with *x* sub infinite number as appropriate. Doesn’t change the sentiment.
+
+  

content/post/2018/02/for-the-love-of-blood/index.markdown

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 +++
 date = "2018-02-14"
 layout = "post"
-categories = ["semifiction"]
+categories = ["life", "me", "semifiction"]
 tags = ["AL"]
 title = "For the love of blood"
 [[resources]]

content/post/2018/02/meeting-my-match/index.markdown

@@ -0,0 +1,15 @@
++++
+date = "2018-02-26"
+layout = "post"
+categories = ["fiction", "poetic"]
+title = "Meeting my match"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**HtuQdTpgJ7OV-GxNFaTMAA*"
++++
+
+  #### Quoted By The Goat
+
+#### Matchbox Quotes Day 49 [2018–02–26]
+
+> Igniting a duel of hearts  

content/post/2018/03/finding-your-voice/index.markdown

@@ -1,12 +1,19 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Finding your voice"
-date:	2018-03-28
----
++++
+title = "Finding your voice"
+description = "Yours and only yours to claim…"
+date = "2018-03-28"
+categories = ["life", "writing"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**ZFBkRUl5Z01iCAmXiEcdcA*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Vince Fleming"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/afrNpD1wKZU?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
++++
 
-  #### Yours and only yours to claim…
-
-![](/img/1*ZFBkRUl5Z01iCAmXiEcdcA.jpeg)Photo by [Vince Fleming](https://unsplash.com/photos/afrNpD1wKZU?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/yell?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)I haven’t found my voice. I have, however, found *more of* it.
+I haven’t found my voice. I have, however, found *more of* it.
 
 I don’t often look back at my previous work. Partly because when I do all I see is flaws[1] but also because my views have changed so much. For a variety of reasons[4], my world has opened up in the past couple years.
 
@@ -46,4 +53,4 @@ Speak out. Speak your mind. Nobody else will, because nobody else **can**.
 
 [7] Maybe we all are, always. Maybe those that look to me like they’ve found their voice have just honed the craft of finding it.
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/03/heres-to-the-twilight/index.markdown

@@ -1,10 +1,18 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Here’s to the twilight times"
-date:	2018-03-20
----
++++
+title = "Here’s to the twilight times"
+date = "2018-03-20"
+categories = ["life"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**gOXPMNusZEjRIFOr_ORqCw*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Max Langelott"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/Hw62tzAkXXE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
++++
 
-  ![](/img/1*gOXPMNusZEjRIFOr_ORqCw.jpeg)Photo by [Max Langelott](https://unsplash.com/photos/Hw62tzAkXXE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/autumn?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)Many people love the summer. It’s heat and relaxation.
+Many people love the summer. It’s heat and relaxation.
 
 I’m not one of them. The heat melts my brain thoroughly. I find myself unable to think, let alone do. Which is all well and good on holiday, but otherwise a pain. And *dear* *god* the hayfever from all of these goddamn plants. Cluttering up the place looking pretty and producing lifegiving oxygen…how dare they!
 
@@ -32,4 +40,4 @@ Best of all, they don’t overstay their welcome.
 
 [3] Need as in…if you don’t fix it you’re going to actually *freeze*
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/04/jekyll-and-hyde/index.markdown

@@ -1,26 +1,34 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Jekyll and Hyde Philosophy"
-date:	2018-04-30
----
++++
+layout ="post"
+categories = ["life", "me", "philosophy"]
+title ="Jekyll and Hyde Philosophy"
+date = "2018-04-30"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**1*y1NXI-alfOz6PgFt2VvP3A*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Wendy Scofield"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/TjfQR3JgGG8?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
+description = "Torn between the bad and the ugly"
++++
 
-  #### Torn between the bad and the ugly
+I’ve mused before about my irreconcilable dual philosophy. The part of me that inspires the ‘Neither do I’ in my "Adrenaline Junkie afraid to die...doesn't make sense, neither do I" — it’s not just there for the rhyme!
 
-![](/img/1*y1NXI-alfOz6PgFt2VvP3A.jpeg)Photo by [Wendy Scofield](https://unsplash.com/photos/TjfQR3JgGG8?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/syringe?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText)I’ve mused before about my irreconcilable dual philosophy. The part of me that inspires the ‘Neither do I’ in my bio — it’s not just there for the rhyme!
-
-In the shower[1] just now it hit me what that is.
+In the shower[^1] just now it hit me what that is.
 
 It’s a Jekyll and Hyde philosophy.
 
-Sometimes, I attempt optimism with earnest. I see the world for what it *could be*, rather than the twisted anarchy that it is. And I am fired to fight towards that. My philosophy in these times is all-encompassing, laid back and non-judgmental. I believe — truly believe — in a Utopian future.[2]
+Sometimes, I attempt optimism with earnest. I see the world for what it *could be*, rather than the twisted anarchy that it is. And I am fired to fight towards that. My philosophy in these times is all-encompassing, laid back and non-judgmental. I believe — truly believe — in a Utopian future.[^2]
 
-That’s my Jekyll philosophy. One of the best intentions.[3]
+That’s my Jekyll philosophy. One of the best intentions.[^3]
 
 Then, I inevitably remember (or am reminded) [*Life is Shit*](https://medium.com/@WhereAngelsFearToTread/rainbows-lollipops-and-sunshine-498cdad1e3f).
 
 This is the spiteful, cynical, middle finger to the universe side of my splintered worldview. Where I see that its a goddamn miracle the human race hasn’t obliterated itself *already *and we’re all living on borrowed time. A philosophy that is malevolent and selfish. Shit sucks and all we can do is make the best of it.
 
-But it also brings an anger — a futile rage against the universe that doesn’t give a shit. And a justified rage against The Powers That Be which don’t give a shit *either.[4]*
+But it also brings an anger — a futile rage against the universe that doesn’t give a shit. And a justified rage against The Powers That Be which don’t give a shit *either.[^4]*
 
 That’s my Hyde philosophy. One of sometimes-righteous anger but shot through with wide cracks of black malice.
 
@@ -34,12 +42,10 @@ Though if that were to happen, I don’t know which side would win.
 
 I don’t know which side I’d *want* to win, either.
 
-[1] Why is it always the shower? I guess because its the only high-daydream activity we do regularly and consistently…
+[^1]: Why is it always the shower? I guess because its the only high-daydream activity we do regularly and consistently…
 
-[2] Equality for all and all that wonderful bollox.
+[^2]: Equality [Ed. Note 2021: Nope. Meant equity!] for all and all that wonderful bollox.
 
-[3] For all the good that intentions are…
+[^3]: For all the good that intentions are…
 
-[4] And anger is a veritable powerplant of energy, creative and otherwise. If it was good enough for Terry Pratchett, it is more than good enough for me.
-
-  
+[^4]: And anger is a veritable powerplant of energy, creative and otherwise. If it was good enough for Terry Pratchett, it is more than good enough for me.

content/post/2018/05/acidic-introduction-to-hate-love/index.markdown

@@ -10,10 +10,9 @@ date = "2018-05-14"
       license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
       sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/DX5r6BNoWVE?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
 categories = ["me"]
+description = "Vodka-soaked and bleeding"
 +++
 
-  #### Vodka-soaked and bleeding
-
 *Foreword: I’ve been gestating this story for a long time. Because the events of it transfigured me. And that’s why I’m so sure it is worth telling, even if objectively it may not be ‘all that’. Now, YOU can be the judge of that.*
 
 I fell out of my first relationship, rolled down several (metaphorical, mostly) flights of stairs and ended up straight in another. At the very least I should be glad I learnt all that I have as early as I have. Although it doesn’t seem to have done me much good — but that’s for another time.

content/post/2018/05/we-fell-too-hard/index.markdown

@@ -0,0 +1,21 @@
++++
+title = "we fell too hard too fast"
+date = "2018-05-06"
+categories = ["poetic", "fiction"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**bgClHJxffITMMUiAHTK5WQ*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Ayko Kehl"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/N7lk60VTFfQ?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
++++
+
+we fell too hard too fast
+
+shattered too finely
+
+an exquisite fracturing
+
+  

content/post/2018/06/is-self-reflection-enough/index.markdown

@@ -1,31 +1,34 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"Is self reflection enough?"
-date:	2018-06-13
----
++++
+title = "Is self reflection enough?"
+date = "2018-06-13"
+categories = ["life", "me"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**X6EM9sYgei-wM70Z3IoGxw*"
++++
 
-  ![](/img/1*X6EM9sYgei-wM70Z3IoGxw.jpeg)I’ve been doing a lot (a whole lot!) of self reflection lately. It’s probably *reflected* — Hah! (Sorry[1]) — in my writings.
+I’ve been doing a lot (a whole lot!) of self reflection lately. It’s probably *reflected* — Hah! (Sorry[^1]) — in my writings.
 
-I’m trying to figure out *who I am*. And [*what I ****do***](https://medium.com/@WhereAngelsFearToTread/obviously-im-biased-but-80778a2de71e). Big questions. But ones I want answers to.
+I’m trying to figure out *who I am*. And [*what I* ***do***](https://medium.com/@WhereAngelsFearToTread/obviously-im-biased-but-80778a2de71e). Big questions. But ones I want answers to.
 
 Not least because of the series of relationship explosions I’ve undergone recently. In particular I’m trying to identify and neutralise toxic behaviours I either already had or developed in those relationships.
 
-I’m pretty sure I’m badly codependent. Which needs to change. I also have a major tendency to jump ahead of myself when I should be rolling with the punches.[2] But I don’t know exactly how. Which loops quite neatly to the title.
+I’m pretty sure I’m badly codependent. Which needs to change. I also have a major tendency to jump ahead of myself when I should be rolling with the punches.[^2] But I don’t know exactly how. Which loops quite neatly to the title.
 
-I’ve been looking inward. Balancing it with looking outward. Trying to let a *little* more positivity bleed into the darkness.[3]
+I’ve been looking inward. Balancing it with looking outward. Trying to let a *little* more positivity bleed into the darkness.[^3]
 
 Trying really damn hard to be more mindful, more grateful.
 
-All of that is good. But is it enough? Can I do this — whatever *this *is — alone?
+All of that is good. But is it enough? Can I do this — whatever *this* is — alone?
 
 I don’t know. Which is another thing I’m working at being better at — admitting when I’m wrong or don’t know. Which is a lot of the time when *this* is involved.
 
 I guess I’m just trying to be a better person. Something I should be able to manage alone. In theory. I don’t know.
 
-[1] I’m not.
+[^1]: I’m not.
 
-[2] I don’t mean that inherently negatively as it implies. *Going with the flow *just isn’t violent enough for me. On second thoughts maybe I *do*.
+[^2]: I don’t mean that inherently negatively as it implies. *Going with the flow *just isn’t violent enough for me. On second thoughts maybe I *do*.
 
-[3] Sometimes.
+[^3]: Sometimes.
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/06/on-labels/index.markdown

@@ -1,12 +1,14 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"On labels"
-date:	2018-06-15
----
++++
+title = "On labels"
+description = "Another double edged philosophy"
+date = "2018-10-25"
+categories = ["life", "me"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**4hLg_xEJR-4deFWCq-U8dg*"
++++
 
-  #### Another double edged philosophy
-
-![](/img/1*4hLg_xEJR-4deFWCq-U8dg.jpeg)Labels are great. They help organise things, like files. They underpin organisation and sorting systems. Categorisation.
+Labels are great. They help organise things, like files. They underpin organisation and sorting systems. Categorisation.
 
 Labels get tricky when applied to things that defy categorisation. People.
 
@@ -28,7 +30,7 @@ But gratitude won’t do. I am trying to become an Ally to those less fortunate.
 
 On a separate but related note as it were, I have a new label for myself.
 
-I am hetroflexible. Maybe even bi. The truth is I’m not quite sure.
+I am hetroflexible. Maybe even bi. [Ed. note 2021: Pan, these days! 🏳️‍🌈] The truth is I’m not quite sure.
 
 ‘Confused’ feels like the most valid label, but I’m concerned that it would be interpreted as ‘making light’ of a serious issue. For want of a better word. Anyway!
 
@@ -36,12 +38,12 @@ Am I leveraging that declaration to make a point? Yes, a little bit. Is it justi
 
 Because my point is thus:
 
-Us. Never *Them*.* *Remember the person.
+Us. Never *Them*. Remember the person.
 
 With one exception. Which I suppose is the real double bladed part of the philosophy. Almost hypocritical. But you should be used to that by now.
 
-Anyway. The exception. Those that wield labels like weapons. See themselves as better than anyone else.** **To them I say…
+Anyway. The exception. Those that wield labels like weapons. See themselves as better than anyone else. To them I say…
 
 **Fuck Off**
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/07/dreameater-moths/index.markdown

@@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
++++
+title =	"They are the dreameater moths"
+date = "2018-07-23"
+description = "Yeah, me too. Sorry [^1]"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**1*RZnY_kyFebNwwVE6sMJA6g*"
+categories = ["poetic"]
++++
+Fluttering in the edgewise gap between this world and the fantasy realm
+
+Quivering ominously on gauzy nebula-wings they chitter wordlessly
+
+They are the dreameater moths
+
+Nibbling holes in aspirations, chewing up hopes
+
+Warbling all the while
+
+Half-eaten ambitions, devoured desires
+
+They feast, and they sing
+
+Consuming delusion and delight alike
+
+Strange songs, these make — strange songs from strange beasts
+
+They are the dreameater moths
+
+Protect yours from them

content/post/2018/10/how-to-be-invincible/index.markdown

@@ -1,12 +1,21 @@
----
-layout:	post
-title:	"How to be invincible"
-date:	2018-10-25
----
++++
+title = "How to be invincible"
+description = "A beginners guide to the impossible"
+date = "2018-10-25"
+categories = ["life", "fiction"]
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**pzsYIBePPPQEwLMa9ubftA*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Matt Atherton"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/zuEjcqGWVBc?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText"
++++
 
-  #### A beginners guide to the impossible
+Authors' note: I reckons that should say “Trust your gut, cuddle a cat and slam tequila” But that wasn’t on Unsplash…
 
-![](/img/1*pzsYIBePPPQEwLMa9ubftA.jpeg)Photo by [Matt Atherton](https://unsplash.com/photos/zuEjcqGWVBc?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) on [Unsplash](https://unsplash.com/search/photos/impossible?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText) | Authors note: I reckons that should say “Trust your gut, cuddle a cat and slam tequila” But that wasn’t on Unsplash…Three years ago, I never would have thought that I could write a novel. Let alone write on in **thirty days**.
+Three years ago, I never would have thought that I could write a novel. Let alone write on in **thirty days**.
 
 That’s right, it’s almost that time of year again! November is fast becoming one of my favourite months — not just because of Halloween and the fireworks, but the novelling. This year I’ve been particularly fierce in my quest to get people to join me on the mad journey — and have been met with reasonable success. This is another slab in that road.
 
@@ -48,7 +57,7 @@ It’s how I wrote a novel in a month, and it is how **you** can too. Or anythin
 
 Do enough impossible things and you will be invincible. Simple.⁵
 
-¹ Not the electrical kind, unless you have *really *odd aspirations…
+¹ Not the electrical kind, unless you have *really* odd aspirations…
 
 ² Well no, I didn’t actually. Because I’m a cheap bastard…
 
@@ -58,8 +67,8 @@ Do enough impossible things and you will be invincible. Simple.⁵
 
 ⁵ That is what I promised you after all, isn’t it? How to be invincible? And if you can do the impossible, then you must be invincible…right?⁶
 
-⁶ Don’t tell me you were actually looking for *immortality. *Because if you were, fuck *right* off.⁷ You *actually thought* I’d publish the secret to that on *Medium*, for *free*?! Hah.
+⁶ Don’t tell me you were actually looking for *immortality.* Because if you were, fuck *right* off.⁷ You *actually thought* I’d publish the secret to that on *Medium*, for *free*?! Hah.
 
 ⁷ But come right back if you find it somewhere else. *Please?*
 
-  
+  

content/post/2018/12/NEXT-YEAR/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,50 @@
++++
+title =	"NEXT YEAR"
+date = "2018-12-31"
+description = "Yeah, me too. Sorry [^1]"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**1*vzWzeHIePfOxPdexHmrjVg*"
+categories = ["me", "life", "future"]
+
++++
+
+I’m alone for New Year’s again this year. Though this time it’s intentional…I’m never much one for sentimental shit anyway. This is as far as I’ll go.
+
+It’s been a hell of a couple of years, but for better or worse I seem to be finally running out of the semifictional pain that’s fueled so much of my writing lately. People seem to like reading about pain — like that old adage about news bad news sells. Schadenfreude does too, and it helps that some of my best writing is in pain…
+
+[An Acidic Introduction to Hate-Love](/post/2018/05/acidic-introduction-to-hate-love/)
+
+[Chasing Her Blinkered](/post/2018/12/chasing-her-blinkered/)
+
+BUT I didn’t only write about pain…and people seem to like that too…
+
+[Burn Fierce Burn Bright](/post/2018/01/burn-fierce-burn-bright/)
+
+[You Are...](/post/2018/10/you-are/)
+
+I won’t say things are looking up because then I’ll jinx it[^3]. Though a lot of it still had a dark streak, but that’s me and that’s capital-L Life I’m afraid…
+
+[Meeting my Match](/post/2018/02/meeting-my-match/)
+
+[A Page in the Snow Book by the Frenetic Scribbler](/post/2018/03/a-page-in-the-snow-book/)
+
+I also experimented with all sorts of departure from my usual form…hang on a minute, you’re right, I don’t have a usual form. Regardless, these were fun…
+
+[A Love Letter to the Infernal Combustion Engine](/post/2018/04/a-love-letter/)
+
+[They are the Dreameater Moths](post/2018/07/dreameater-moths/)
+
+Last but not least…remember,
+
+[Fuck The World](/post/2018/06/fuck-the-world/)
+
+See you in the New Year. And remember it’s just the same shit as the last one — so the best time to fix it was yesterday. And that’ll be last year soon. Get on with it you lazy bastard¹!
+
+---
+
+[^1]: If you don’t know the drill by now, you should. I don’t apologise for a damn thing[^2], because that would mean apologising for being me and…no.
+
+[^2]: Except for when I fuck up, but that’s a different kettle of fish — and besides…who the hell is putting fish in a kettle?!
+
+[^3]: …wait. I did it again — damn and blast.

content/post/2020/12/olivia.md

@@ -1,6 +1,6 @@
 +++
 categories = ["writing", "fiction"]
-tags = ["52stories", "short story"]
+tags = ["52stories", "short story", "OH"]
 date = "2020-12-13 00:25:00"
 layout = "post"
 title = "Olivia, The Storm"
@@ -8,43 +8,43 @@ aliases = ["blog/2020-12-13-olivia/"]
 +++
 Olivia crackled fiercely, enveloped in a maelstrom of energy that was as green as her eyes. It rose around her and whipped up the once calm air. Mimicking this rise, she took off. Incongruously slowly, her feet rose several metres from the sodden earth as her eyes flashed fierce with ethereal power. The unshackled force spilled out across the sky like a supercharged aurora, dancing as if it were alive and gleeful at being let free.
 
-Moments later, she lashed out, a twisting beam of energy coming crashing down like a striking snake. The smoke-like figure she had been aiming for dodged easily, blurring through the air between where it had been and where it was now in the work of moments. Irritation rose as the overwhelming emotion in Olivia's mind and she had a sudden desire to scream in an imitation of the fierce wind that now screamed in circles around her. She choked it back. Her emotion wasn't deserved. She had been here before. Died here before. It was all just as little deserving of her time, and her feelings, her pain, than ever. 
+Moments later, she lashed out, a twisting beam of energy coming crashing down like a striking snake. The smoke-like figure she had been aiming for dodged easily, blurring through the air between where it had been and where it was now in the work of moments. Irritation rose as the overwhelming emotion in Olivia's mind and she had a sudden desire to scream in an imitation of the fierce wind that now screamed in circles around her. She choked it back. Her emotion wasn't deserved. She had been here before. Died here before. It was all just as little deserving of her time, and her feelings, her pain, than ever.
 
 The setup was the same as it always was. She was alone, but yet also surrounded. Alone in that she had no allies, and very much not alone in that she was completely surrounded by enemies. The landscape changed every time she ended up here, as inevitable as the turning of the days to years, but her enemy stayed the same. Demons wrought of smoke and fire, which she had always thought of as a rather cliche manifestation of evil. Things inevitably played out the same, too. She had powers here, here in the dream, but they were never enough. The tide of daemonic hatred was always too much, always overwhelming, and one way or another every single one of these dreams ended with her being run through with knife, claw or horn. The feeling of being stabbed, still invasive, was sickeningly familiar now.
 
-But this was the start of the hell loop. Which left her an uncertain but brief amount of time in which she was strong, and could wash aside those that fought her over and over in this odd pocket of unreality as the crashing sea does all at the shore, or the cascading storm does to the land below. As she snapped back into the present moment, the emerald hued thunderstorm that encircled her reached a crescendo, exploding outwards in a supernova of blinding light which erased her surroundings from existence. So bright that it made her squint hard and by the time she could see again the land around for what seemed like a kilometre was flat and barren, smoking gently. She felt, she realised, more powerful than usual, felt the sparks of energy dance up and down her spine and all the way out to the tips of her outstretched fingers, as if particularly aggressive pixies had invaded her blood. Her shoulder length blonde hair was taken up in the wind and flew into her eyes, momentarily obscuring her vision. She still hovered quite a distance clear of the ground, so hoped that she would be safe for now. 
+But this was the start of the hell loop. Which left her an uncertain but brief amount of time in which she was strong, and could wash aside those that fought her over and over in this odd pocket of unreality as the crashing sea does all at the shore, or the cascading storm does to the land below. As she snapped back into the present moment, the emerald hued thunderstorm that encircled her reached a crescendo, exploding outwards in a supernova of blinding light which erased her surroundings from existence. So bright that it made her squint hard and by the time she could see again the land around for what seemed like a kilometre was flat and barren, smoking gently. She felt, she realised, more powerful than usual, felt the sparks of energy dance up and down her spine and all the way out to the tips of her outstretched fingers, as if particularly aggressive pixies had invaded her blood. Her shoulder length blonde hair was taken up in the wind and flew into her eyes, momentarily obscuring her vision. She still hovered quite a distance clear of the ground, so hoped that she would be safe for now.
 
-No sooner had she had dared to think that was she proved wrong. An unseen force grabbed her bodily and slammed her to the earth. When her vision cleared again, the storm momentarily dying back as all the wind was knocked from her, the otherwise newly flat landscape was once again teeming with the demonic hordes which assailed her every time she ended up here. A few were crouched over her, leering in close. She took half a second to look at them in detail, from the cracked black cloven hooves that were mirrored at the creature's head by where it was framed by a tangled mess of six curved horns that framed a face mostly made of slavering teeth. It was built of slabs of steaming muscle which might as well have been chiselled from stone. Whenever it got this close in she inevitably lost, no hope of matching even a single on of these things in physical combat. Two bright pinpricks of molten light shone in a rather poor imitation of eyes, echoed by cracks of light that leaked across the creatures body rather like it was filled with magma, the energy oozing off of it. The effect was completed by the stench of sulphur that filled the air, soon no doubt to be joined with the iron tang of blood. Hers or theirs, she told herself, as she scrambled quickly to her feet. Hers or theirs, she repeated, a sort of mantra allowing her to carve a defiant space against the dark. 
+No sooner had she had dared to think that was she proved wrong. An unseen force grabbed her bodily and slammed her to the earth. When her vision cleared again, the storm momentarily dying back as all the wind was knocked from her, the otherwise newly flat landscape was once again teeming with the demonic hordes which assailed her every time she ended up here. A few were crouched over her, leering in close. She took half a second to look at them in detail, from the cracked black cloven hooves that were mirrored at the creature's head by where it was framed by a tangled mess of six curved horns that framed a face mostly made of slavering teeth. It was built of slabs of steaming muscle which might as well have been chiselled from stone. Whenever it got this close in she inevitably lost, no hope of matching even a single on of these things in physical combat. Two bright pinpricks of molten light shone in a rather poor imitation of eyes, echoed by cracks of light that leaked across the creatures body rather like it was filled with magma, the energy oozing off of it. The effect was completed by the stench of sulphur that filled the air, soon no doubt to be joined with the iron tang of blood. Hers or theirs, she told herself, as she scrambled quickly to her feet. Hers or theirs, she repeated, a sort of mantra allowing her to carve a defiant space against the dark.
 
-The three closest to her lunged the instant she showed sign of life. In truth, she didn't know why they hadn't done so before, why they hadn't fallen upon her prone form. Dramatic effect perhaps, she thought grimly yet wryly. Just then something, like a wordless voice at the base of her skull, told her to put her hand out. So she did so, even as it felt highly ridiculous to do. As she complied, the air solidified in her hand, writhing as if she had reached out and grasped a decidedly antagonised snake. Fortunately for her, what materialised in her hand was not a snake, but a gun. 
+The three closest to her lunged the instant she showed sign of life. In truth, she didn't know why they hadn't done so before, why they hadn't fallen upon her prone form. Dramatic effect perhaps, she thought grimly yet wryly. Just then something, like a wordless voice at the base of her skull, told her to put her hand out. So she did so, even as it felt highly ridiculous to do. As she complied, the air solidified in her hand, writhing as if she had reached out and grasped a decidedly antagonised snake. Fortunately for her, what materialised in her hand was not a snake, but a gun.
 
-That was new, she thought to herself. Normally all she had to battle her not-nearly-ethereal-enough demons was her wits and the power of the storm that even now raged overhead. Occasionally the smell of overcooked ozone overwhelmed the sulphur rotting in her nose as a lance of energy lashed down and vaporised whatever it struck. The storm, though, was not easy to control. This gun, she sensed with that same wordless foreign knowledge, would be a damn sight simpler. It wasn't a typical nondescript black semi-auto that she had seen thousands of times in films. This gun had style, and she appreciated it as time dutifully stood still around her for her to do so. It was a snub nosed revolver of shining silver, glinting menacingly in the green light cast by her storm. As her finger curled gratefully around the trigger runes that she hadn't noticed etched into the barrel sprang into life, in a vibrant green that almost made her avert her gaze. She didn't recognise the script, despite a working knowledge of most all earthly languages. 
+That was new, she thought to herself. Normally all she had to battle her not-nearly-ethereal-enough demons was her wits and the power of the storm that even now raged overhead. Occasionally the smell of overcooked ozone overwhelmed the sulphur rotting in her nose as a lance of energy lashed down and vaporised whatever it struck. The storm, though, was not easy to control. This gun, she sensed with that same wordless foreign knowledge, would be a damn sight simpler. It wasn't a typical nondescript black semi-auto that she had seen thousands of times in films. This gun had style, and she appreciated it as time dutifully stood still around her for her to do so. It was a snub nosed revolver of shining silver, glinting menacingly in the green light cast by her storm. As her finger curled gratefully around the trigger runes that she hadn't noticed etched into the barrel sprang into life, in a vibrant green that almost made her avert her gaze. She didn't recognise the script, despite a working knowledge of most all earthly languages.
 
-Half a heartbeat later her pondering over what the inscription might say was abruptly yet inevitably interrupted by the thunderous report of a shot. The demon in front of her fell, a brightly glowing hole punched directly in the centre of its forehead between the forest of horns. The creature was rapidly absorbed into the ground as it opened around it and swallowed it hungrily. As if envious, several bolts of green tinged lightning stabbed at the earth each with a booming, rolling sound which swallowed the echo of the shot whole. The demons which had surrounded her scattered like a flock of startled birds until they circled her at a healthy distance, with what seemed to border on respect if not fear. She somehow knew that it was the weapon and not her that they feared. 
+Half a heartbeat later her pondering over what the inscription might say was abruptly yet inevitably interrupted by the thunderous report of a shot. The demon in front of her fell, a brightly glowing hole punched directly in the centre of its forehead between the forest of horns. The creature was rapidly absorbed into the ground as it opened around it and swallowed it hungrily. As if envious, several bolts of green tinged lightning stabbed at the earth each with a booming, rolling sound which swallowed the echo of the shot whole. The demons which had surrounded her scattered like a flock of startled birds until they circled her at a healthy distance, with what seemed to border on respect if not fear. She somehow knew that it was the weapon and not her that they feared.
 
-Duly renewed and rearmed, she drew the storm around herself like a heavy protective cloak and with some concentration rose from the dark earth once again. She still held the revolver in her hand. Did she only get six shots, she wondered? She would certainly need a lot more than that to finish off all those that currently swirled below her in a rough imitation of her storm cloak, and she knew from bitter experience that for each one she felled more would come at her. She could never win, she always knew that. But still she fought, whether out of stubbornness or something more she had never stopped to think. 
+Duly renewed and rearmed, she drew the storm around herself like a heavy protective cloak and with some concentration rose from the dark earth once again. She still held the revolver in her hand. Did she only get six shots, she wondered? She would certainly need a lot more than that to finish off all those that currently swirled below her in a rough imitation of her storm cloak, and she knew from bitter experience that for each one she felled more would come at her. She could never win, she always knew that. But still she fought, whether out of stubbornness or something more she had never stopped to think.
 
-Just as she was getting ready to fire again, taking careful aim even though with the number of bodies seething below her she absolutely could not miss, she sensed a presence with a skilful sense she had only in this unreality. With a thought, she sent herself swirling sideways, the storm for once doing her bidding without argument. almost as if it recognised and responded to the urgency in her command. A bolt of black energy whipped through the space she had occupied only moments before, a grim imitation of the verdant green energy she harnessed herself. That was new, she thought. The demons came at her with tooth and claw, they had never reflected her magic back toward her. 'Reflected?' she found herself thinking...how did she know that was what happened. Was it even what was happening? 
+Just as she was getting ready to fire again, taking careful aim even though with the number of bodies seething below her she absolutely could not miss, she sensed a presence with a skilful sense she had only in this unreality. With a thought, she sent herself swirling sideways, the storm for once doing her bidding without argument. almost as if it recognised and responded to the urgency in her command. A bolt of black energy whipped through the space she had occupied only moments before, a grim imitation of the verdant green energy she harnessed herself. That was new, she thought. The demons came at her with tooth and claw, they had never reflected her magic back toward her. 'Reflected?' she found herself thinking...how did she know that was what happened. Was it even what was happening?
 
-More important to her present survival was where that attack had come from. She looked up, rather than down at the ground below, and in front of her saw another woman. The figure flew just as she was, also encircled in the storm except that where the cloud cradled Olivia, it kept its distance from this other person, like the demons now did from the armed Olivia. Experimentally, she lashed out with several tendrils of energy of her own, these glowing with a fierce bright energy that was the precise opposite of the sucking darkness that had come from the earlier bolt which had nearly slashed her in half. The woman dodged just as easily as Olivia had. It seemed that they were evenly matched. 
+More important to her present survival was where that attack had come from. She looked up, rather than down at the ground below, and in front of her saw another woman. The figure flew just as she was, also encircled in the storm except that where the cloud cradled Olivia, it kept its distance from this other person, like the demons now did from the armed Olivia. Experimentally, she lashed out with several tendrils of energy of her own, these glowing with a fierce bright energy that was the precise opposite of the sucking darkness that had come from the earlier bolt which had nearly slashed her in half. The woman dodged just as easily as Olivia had. It seemed that they were evenly matched.
 
-As the other person's figure solidified further, drawing near through the misty haze and sheeting rain, Olivia realised that this was true in more ways than one. The other woman looked eerily similar to herself, though with raven black hair a little longer than her own, and she seemed a little taller too. It could just have been the dark presence that rolled off her in waves, pushing away the crushing cloud. It was difficult to tell, floating above the ground making true reference difficult. Her face was a little different too. Sharper. This was emphasised by dark and heavy make-up that encircled her eyes, matching the black of her lips and standing out against her unearthly pale skin. 
+As the other person's figure solidified further, drawing near through the misty haze and sheeting rain, Olivia realised that this was true in more ways than one. The other woman looked eerily similar to herself, though with raven black hair a little longer than her own, and she seemed a little taller too. It could just have been the dark presence that rolled off her in waves, pushing away the crushing cloud. It was difficult to tell, floating above the ground making true reference difficult. Her face was a little different too. Sharper. This was emphasised by dark and heavy make-up that encircled her eyes, matching the black of her lips and standing out against her unearthly pale skin.
 
-The figure across from Olivia gestured indistinctly, and then in her hand she held a sword. The flat single-edged blade shone in bright metal imitating that of Olivia's gun, an ornate basketwork of finely spun gold enveloping the hilt and the slender fingers of the other woman's hand that curled tight there. The metal glowed dully, a perhaps bluish sheen across it. It was, ultimately, the exact opposite of its wielder. The light to the darkness. Olivia didn't have a moment longer to look at the sword before it was slicing toward her head, whistling lightly as it did so, even though that menacing quiet sound ought not to have been audible above the fierce wind. 
+The figure across from Olivia gestured indistinctly, and then in her hand she held a sword. The flat single-edged blade shone in bright metal imitating that of Olivia's gun, an ornate basketwork of finely spun gold enveloping the hilt and the slender fingers of the other woman's hand that curled tight there. The metal glowed dully, a perhaps bluish sheen across it. It was, ultimately, the exact opposite of its wielder. The light to the darkness. Olivia didn't have a moment longer to look at the sword before it was slicing toward her head, whistling lightly as it did so, even though that menacing quiet sound ought not to have been audible above the fierce wind.
 
-Without knowing how she knew how, but completely aware that she had to, Olivia imitated the other woman's gesture and a sword of her own materialised rapidly. The gun which she still had held outstretched, forgotten, writhed once more snakelike and forced itself into a sword totally unlike any other Olivia had seen before. The hilt was heavy and cast iron black, two smaller blades curving back to form a protective arch across her white knuckle grip. It had a huge blade coming to a sharp edge on both sides. These edges were white with energy, lessening to a dull cherry glow at the ridge of the blade's back. It was as if it had only just that precise moment been pulled free fresh from the forge. Reinforcing the effect, it threw off a fierce heat that caused Olivia to instinctually draw away. She practically dropped the thing, such was the surprise, worsened by the sudden weight.  
+Without knowing how she knew how, but completely aware that she had to, Olivia imitated the other woman's gesture and a sword of her own materialised rapidly. The gun which she still had held outstretched, forgotten, writhed once more snakelike and forced itself into a sword totally unlike any other Olivia had seen before. The hilt was heavy and cast iron black, two smaller blades curving back to form a protective arch across her white knuckle grip. It had a huge blade coming to a sharp edge on both sides. These edges were white with energy, lessening to a dull cherry glow at the ridge of the blade's back. It was as if it had only just that precise moment been pulled free fresh from the forge. Reinforcing the effect, it threw off a fierce heat that caused Olivia to instinctually draw away. She practically dropped the thing, such was the surprise, worsened by the sudden weight.
 
-Not a moment too soon, as the other woman's blade abruptly crashed into hers. A resounding clang, like a more metallic version of the earlier ringing gunshot, filled what space the storm left in the air. This was chased off by a rapidly receding sizzle as sparks flew firefly-like and twisting into the air where the slim shining blade met the hefty molten one and skittered away harmlessly. Phoenix tear droplets of molten metal were cast away into the air from Olivia's own blade even as the other woman's sword sharply heated to an orange glow at the point of impact. Moments later they were locked into a deadly dance, whirling through the air like the storm that still thrived around them, occasionally taking a break from the clashing of blades to cast bolts of piercing energy at one another. 
+Not a moment too soon, as the other woman's blade abruptly crashed into hers. A resounding clang, like a more metallic version of the earlier ringing gunshot, filled what space the storm left in the air. This was chased off by a rapidly receding sizzle as sparks flew firefly-like and twisting into the air where the slim shining blade met the hefty molten one and skittered away harmlessly. Phoenix tear droplets of molten metal were cast away into the air from Olivia's own blade even as the other woman's sword sharply heated to an orange glow at the point of impact. Moments later they were locked into a deadly dance, whirling through the air like the storm that still thrived around them, occasionally taking a break from the clashing of blades to cast bolts of piercing energy at one another.
 
-Olivia felt her chest rise and fall quickly as the exertion took its toll, sweat beading on her brow, whilst the other woman appeared to have unearthly stamina, showing no sign of flagging. Olivia almost had this mysterious other woman several times, but the ponderous slowness with which she was now forced to heft the massive blade repeatedly stole the finishing blow from her. 
+Olivia felt her chest rise and fall quickly as the exertion took its toll, sweat beading on her brow, whilst the other woman appeared to have unearthly stamina, showing no sign of flagging. Olivia almost had this mysterious other woman several times, but the ponderous slowness with which she was now forced to heft the massive blade repeatedly stole the finishing blow from her.
 
-She didn't know how long they fought for. The storm seemed to stand still around them, watching eagerly. The ever present whistling roar of it died away to be replaced by the rhythmic clang of metal on slightly more molten metal. They twisted and tumbled through the air, a three dimensional fight that seemed perfectly choreographed in its volatility. She didn't know why they were fighting, either, it occurred to Olivia, after what could quite easily have been forever. It never had need to before. She knew whenever she woke here that she would fight and fight until she died. But this time was different. Why? She had to know.  
+She didn't know how long they fought for. The storm seemed to stand still around them, watching eagerly. The ever present whistling roar of it died away to be replaced by the rhythmic clang of metal on slightly more molten metal. They twisted and tumbled through the air, a three dimensional fight that seemed perfectly choreographed in its volatility. She didn't know why they were fighting, either, it occurred to Olivia, after what could quite easily have been forever. It never had need to before. She knew whenever she woke here that she would fight and fight until she died. But this time was different. Why? She had to know.
 
 "Who are you?" she shouted, barely able to catch her breath amongst the exertion of furious strikes and parries. No reply came.
 "Who are you?" she tried again, and nearly paid for it dearly as she only just managed to send the slim blade of her silent opponent singing away from where it had almost pierced her chest straight through to the heart. Still no answer was forthcoming, the other woman's mouth set in a tight lipped line which still frustratingly betrayed no sign of tiring even as Olivia felt the last reservoirs of strength gradually draining from her limbs.
 "I'm Olivia..." Olivia said, trying a different tactic. Not giving a chance for an answer this time, she followed up,
-"Why are why fighting...why the hell are we fighting?" she continued, rising to a half scream by the end of the sentence. A light grew in her opponent's eyes, much like that which had flashed at Olivia's at the beginning of this nightmare, not that she could have known that. 
+"Why are why fighting...why the hell are we fighting?" she continued, rising to a half scream by the end of the sentence. A light grew in her opponent's eyes, much like that which had flashed at Olivia's at the beginning of this nightmare, not that she could have known that.
 
-"Olivia..." the woman spoke and trailed off, her voice fading away into the wind which suddenly sprang up once more, reaching out toward her and almost brushing her with outstretched fingertips before the world began to shatter around them both. White nothing persecuted and invaded the carefully constructed mental torture chamber as it sharded into smaller and smaller pieces. The last piece to shatter was the face of the other woman, outliving even Olivia felt the twisted expression of the other sear itself into her mind alongside the feeling of being stabbed which was the typical way for these things to end. 
+"Olivia..." the woman spoke and trailed off, her voice fading away into the wind which suddenly sprang up once more, reaching out toward her and almost brushing her with outstretched fingertips before the world began to shatter around them both. White nothing persecuted and invaded the carefully constructed mental torture chamber as it sharded into smaller and smaller pieces. The last piece to shatter was the face of the other woman, outliving even Olivia felt the twisted expression of the other sear itself into her mind alongside the feeling of being stabbed which was the typical way for these things to end.
 
 In a disturbing echo of the dream, "Olivia?" was the first word Olivia heard as she crashed back to reality, accompanied by the sickening feeling of falling. Her fall was mercifully broken by the creaky softness of her familiar bed. A reassuringly familiar figure, though her brain hadn't woken enough to place their face yet, stood in the doorway with a decidedly quizzical expression. Wait...fall? As she came back to her senses she noticed a pervading damp that quickly spread fingers of cold into her bones. It was as if her bedroom had been torn through by a storm, though the window beside her remained firmly shut and the air outside steadfastly dark and deathly still. Strangely like the storm had come from within.

content/post/2021/12/newflame/index.md

@@ -1,6 +1,6 @@
 +++
 categories = ["poetic"]
-tags = ["fire"]
+tags = ["fire", "HL"]
 date = "2021-12-15T00:19:00.000Z"
 layout = "post"
 title = "Newflame"

content/post/2021/12/stolenpast/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
++++
+categories = ["life"]
+date = "2021-12-12T23:00:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "A Stolen Past"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**oliver-roos-PCNdauVPbjA-unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Oliver Roos"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/PCNdauVPbjA"
++++
+
+Status quo, it is said, is latin for the mess that we are in.
+
+> You're always one decision away from a totally different life
+
+Those words are some of the most freeing I know. They help keep the wanderlust that runs through the fibers of my being placated...sober. I live as lightly as I can for good reason. Mostly because I have no other choice.
+
+Here's something that might be obvious about me. Faced with stability and with sanity, with things as they are; and faced equally with the unknown and the curious, the passionate and the novel I never even need think. It's all interlinked with [The Rush](post/2018/07/chasing-the-edge/), of course. That's not to say I *always* pursue the novel at the expense of all else, that would be foolish... even for me.
+
+Where was I? Ah, yeah. There's another quote that comes to mind here, though it will itself be the kernel of a full piece, eventually:
+
+> Be ruthless for your own wellbeing
+
+Life's too short not to live to the max, I (more than) believe that. And not to forget that there's always [a third way](post/2018/01/forging-a-path-into-the-web-of-unknown/). I am, as I've taken to saying, always thinking sideways.
+
+Choose slow death? Or choose Life?
+
+I choose Life. Are you with me?

content/post/2022/04/phoenix/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
++++
+categories = ["poetic"]
+tags = ["fire"]
+date = "2022-04-08T00:10:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "Phoenix, Motherfucker"
+description = "I'm immortal. You don't want to be."
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**esther-ann-nzftJsNv_GA-unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Esther Ann"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/nzftJsNv_GA"
++++
+
+Think of a sickly, wounded bird. Faded grey.
+
+Then think of a fire licking up around it. A funeral pyre and also a celebration of (re)birth.
+
+A phoenix must die to rise. To be renewed. Consumed [in flame](/post/2021/12/newflame/) that does not hurt but heals. I like the way it burns.
+
+Partly because of [the great sieve I have in place of a brain](post/2018/01/some-things-stick/) I am immortal. I am a phoenix, motherfucker. If you want to beat me down, you're going to need a bigger stick. And more patience than there are stars in the sky.
+
+I live moment by moment. Breath by breath. Pain doesn't stick, but pleasure doesn't either. It's a different way to live, as unimaginable to you as the fact I have no minds eye (If you *can* imagine, reach out. We can be alone together). I rage against the dying of the light, yet there is nothing I can do.
+
+I must move forwards, because stillness is death. An endless restlessness that I wish on no one.
+
+I am not as I was. I shall not be as I am. Blink by blink I change faster than I can keep up with. Someday, perhaps I will find an iteration of myself I don't vehemently hate.
+
+Hate me? I empathise. (Oh to be able to turn these pretty/twisted words into song...)

content/post/2022/06/armoury/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,38 @@
++++
+categories = ["life", "me"]
+tags = ["HL", "AL", "OH"]
+date = "2022-06-25T11:00:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "Armoury of The Mind"
+description = "A long suffering metaphor"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**patrick-hendry-6CfpUEmNWAU-unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Patrick Hendry"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/6CfpUEmNWAU"
++++
+
+I don't remember where it came from, although that's no surprise anymore. But I do remember what it means. I am the Shield, and She is the Sword.
+
+A Shield can be a weapon unto itself. Wielded with hammer blows. But a Sword is superior.
+
+A Sword can be a defence method. Who wants to walk into a whirling blade? But a Shield is superior.
+
+This long suffering metaphor is intended to emphasise the power of being together.
+
+You cannot do everything. Hell, you almost can't do anything...alone. The society we have sleepwalked into building[^1] pushes us away from that every day. It has almost become [duty to rebel](post/2018/03/i-opt-out-too/). Do not play by the rules, nobody else will. You cannot fight alone. And why should you? Find your tribe. That, after all, is how we were made to live. Natural *isn't always* good, but maybe in this case. Hell if I really know.
+
+Lately, the Armoury has expanded. Sword and Shield joined by Axe and Crossbow. Unique weapons with unique strengths and weaknesses.
+
+An axe hits harder than a sword, but takes more strength to wield. An axe can also be a tool, whereas a sword is peculiarly weaponised. A crossbow has the obvious advantage of range. But good luck cutting anyone with it.
+
+Not that the specifics matter to the metaphor. Think first and ask questions later, that's me as ever. People being weapons (problematic, I'll admit) is by the by...the point is more...
+
+Life's a battle. Let's go to war **together**.
+
+---
+
+[^1]: I continue to believe that the world we have created is fundamentally incompatible with human nature, and there *will* be a reckoning. More on that another time.

content/post/2022/06/truelies/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
++++
+categories = ["life"]
+tags = ["JR"]
+date = "2022-06-21T12:00:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "True Lies"
+description = "*adj.*: false; not truthful"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**joshua-hoehne-Wxb7EMuRKag-unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Joshua Hoehne"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/nzftJsNv_GA"
++++
+
+I lied for her. And that was fine.
+
+Couldn't tell her friends. They hate me. I empathise.
+
+I lied to her. And that was the end of all things.
+
+I never should have. I did. And I don't even remember.
+
+I wish I could remember. The good. The bad. And the fake.
+
+Everyone else knows more about me than I do.
+
+Why did I think it would be fine?

content/post/2022/12/love/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,25 @@
++++
+categories = ["life"]
+date = "2022-12-21T12:00:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "Love"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**jamie-street-hBzrr6m6-pc-unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Jamie Street"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/hBzrr6m6-pc"
++++
+Staring into the eyes of someone who loves you above all else is like staring into a fire.
+
+Pressing your face right into the flames until you feel flesh slough from bone.
+
+All else slough away from the world.
+<br><br>
+Only eyes and fire remain.<br>
+Embrace. Inferno.<br>
+<br>
+The only question is...<br>
+Can you match that fire?

content/post/2023/11/IMFKAG/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,35 @@
++++
+categories = [""]
+tags = ["STP"]
+date = "2023-11-01T00:10:00.000Z"
+layout = "post"
+title = "Instruction Manual for Killing a God"
+[[resources]]
+  name = "header thumbnail"
+  src = "**unsplash*"
+  [resources.params]
+    [resources.params.meta]
+      creator = "Peter Herrmann"
+      license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
+      sameAs = "https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1635058157301-b69bb0b08c83?auto=format&fit=crop&q=80&w=2072&ixlib=rb-4.0.3&ixid=M3wxMjA3fDB8MHxwaG90by1wYWdlfHx8fGVufDB8fHx8fA%3D%3D"
++++
+    Version: One
+    Gods Eliminated: Nil
+
+It is known that you can't kill a god in combat, no matter how powerful your weapon. They are immortal, immune to all harm. Fair enough.
+
+But a god is predicated on belief. Erase the knowledge of, belief in, reverence of, *fear* of, a deity and they are **nothing**. Sand in the wind.
+
+Killing small gods, then, is easy. One might feasibly slaughter their followers; convince those that have simply heard of them that it was but myth (the supernatural never quite escapes a kernel of doubt, in any case); and burn up all written reference to them.
+
+Killing an elder, established god is a much trickier matter. The volume of material mentioning them a veritable torrent, their followers legion. More than the work of one person, even over a lifetime dedicated to a cause unmaking.
+
+To kill a god, ironically enough, you need to build a religion. One dedicated to their nonexistence. You must perpetrate the belief not only that the diety in question does not exist, but has never existed and could not exist. You must inspire this belief to be so fervent and infectious that all reference to them is blotted out, pages from tomes torn and burned, memories purpousfully cauterised.
+
+Do not stray into inspiring hate. You are preaching absence, indifference, *forgetting*.
+
+Finally and most precariously, you must cause your very followers to disband from your cause, engineer your religion cannibalising itself into a nonexistence that leaves only the absence of its once-divine intended target behind in its implosion. This absence will be invisible by definition, an unseen scar in the fabric of reality.
+
+Belief is the most powerful thing. Its absence evermore so.
+
+[Would you like to start a cult with me?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAXg78MKJcM)

content/soundboard/index.html

@@ -0,0 +1,65 @@
+<html>
+    <head>
+        <title>Soundboard</title>
+        <style>
+        button {
+            padding: 10px;
+            margin: 10px;
+            font-size: xx-large;
+        }
+        </style>
+    </head>
+    <body>
+        <div style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; padding: 2em;">
+	        <audio preload="auto" id="1">
+		        <source src="fuckingguy.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('1').play()">Fucking Guy</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="2">
+		        <source src="heyadora.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('2').play()">Hey Adora</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="3">
+		        <source src="fail.wav" type="audio/wav">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('3').play()">PAT Fail</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="4">
+		        <source src="corntact.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('4').play()">Corntact (Hordak)</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="5">
+		        <source src="adventure.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('5').play()">ADVENTURE</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="6">
+		        <source src="objection.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('6').play()">Objection!</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="7">
+		        <source src="glados.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('7').play()">GLaDOS</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="8">
+		        <source src="sarcasm.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('8').play()">Sarcasm</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="9">
+		        <source src="wilhelm_scream.ogg" type="audio/ogg">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('9').play()">Wilhelm Scream</button>
+
+            <audio preload="auto" id="10">
+		        <source src="killbill.mp3" type="audio/mp3">
+	        </audio>
+	        <button type="button" class="btn btn-lg btn-block" onclick="document.getElementById('10').play()">Kill Bill</button>
+        </div>
+    </body>
+</html>

layouts/partials/head/favicon.html

@@ -16,5 +16,4 @@ GNU Affero General Public License for more details.
 You should have received a copy of the GNU Affero General Public License
 along with this program.  If not, see <https://www.gnu.org/licenses/>.
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