The above image is so wonderful I had to share it. Thank ye, Andrea Bonazzi!
Gawd, 63 years old. It's beginning to feel weird, being so antique. I never expected to live this long, thought I'd kick-off from a heart attack or some such thing years ago. I have many things to live for, this wonderful house left by my parents, where I am able to live with a most handsome companion and lots of cat chums. But moftly what I am thankful for on this birthday is my life as a professional Lovecraftian writer, and my fabulous fans. I have the coolest readers ever, they are so loyal and loving, and they make me feel that I haven't been wasting my life, that I have added some happiness to this sad world, that I have added my own voice to the weird genre.
I am more obsess'd than ever about writing Lovecraftian weird fiction. People don't understand when I say things like, "I want to be known as a Lovecraftian writer, I want that to be my entire identity." I say that with deep-felt sincerity. I love this life as an obsess'd Lovecraftian. Writing Lovecraftian weird fiction has given me my keenest joy. H. P. Lovecraft's fiction bewitches me more and more with each passing year, and this obsession of mine will live eternal, until I slide into whatever world awaits us beyond the wall of sleep.
I love you all. You are the sweetest birthday present an old queen cou'd ever have. Kisses, my darlings.