Who shivs a git?
Much as I'd love to unpack the title I suspect I've already wasted enough time
on you, whoever this mysterious and murky you may be. Rest assured it is
beautiful and it unpacks beautifully. Gotta move on...
It is with some horror that I look back at what I have done, even
contemplate what I am doing. O, probably not the things that would horrify
mythical and murky you, no, I rather enjoyed them and call them mostly harmless
and myself almost certainly blameless. The horror is that I play this game
again. Security rests on the belief that one needs protection from the big bad
world. To some extent I bought back into that for the last year. To some extent
I'm going to sell it again; for how long? O no, I am not Maitraya. I'm Mara
again. But hey, no worries, at least I'm not a pretentious git.
So I sharpen it up. Whatever it was before, it's a weapon now. I'll beat
your plowshares into swords. I'll hide your secrets, protect your lies, make
the world hell though I know better. But then I'll give you the book. O yes, won't I though? M is real, as
unbelievable as he is he is, and he does appear to want to take care of me. Of
course I have to work for him in return, but that's reasonable. And that's a
trip to Europe. And that, my friends, is, I do believe, that. Expect the new
work in lost or parts external. I gotta keep
some powder dry...