intricacies

Shivering at my desk from cold that cannot be warmed by four sweaters, one of which is pretty thick, I must compose a series of words that say a great deal without saying too much and without being misread because not saying anything could make my head explode.  I am a writer who writes, above all, of the sheer lunacy and terrors in the world — as well as the beasties that lurk at the very edges of our gazes, along the unbounded extremities of the imagination.  It is the month of hearts for some.  Yet a horror author, and a victim of horrors, can take such

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