Dead end. Checkmate. A murder scene: the chalk outline of a heart.
What you are about to read is a work of autofiction which uses my blog as its source material. You must be warned, however: The Novel Is Not The Blog.
It’s not a normal novel. It’s not entirely Real. But it is completely, unequivocally, and unfortunately True. Please do not think too unkindly of me after you turn the final page.
The era of True Modern Romance — summer of 2024 ’til spring of 2026 — was an Extremely Hard but Invariably Crucial time of my life. Perhaps the most important (so far [maybe ever {who knows!}])? I cannot overstate how difficult it is with me to part with this novel, and with it the era as a whole. Alas— it is now yours, and the second it exchanges hands the Infinite Loop collapses forever. TTYL, I suppose.
Goodbyes are always hard, but in this case, the goodbye lingers on my ever-Clicking & Clacking fingers and I find it impossible to word. Oh well. Everything Ends the way it Always Was. It’s the Theory of Goodbyes™— You Can Read All About It In My Book. Please do, because I’m tired of writing it.
***A necessary disclaimer***
Yes, I’m still Doing Music.
It is undeniable to me now that this novel was the centerpiece of True Modern Romance. I thought the blog, the show, all of it, was the surrounding material for the EP. But no. At the broken heart of my shattered world was this accursed novel. Once I understood that, the smog cleared for the first time in years. I finished the Sisyphean goose chase, nearly at the expense of my already fragile sanity, and returned Home to tell the tale. Campbell was really onto some shit, eh? Cheeky fella. Never thought I’d find my way back, but I did. The book is over, and I return, as ever, to Doing Music. I hope I never have to write another word which I cannot sing.
Thanks for reading
-mbk
