I blame the Romans. How unfortunate that the word for “left side”
has evolved into the word for “evil.” Language evolves in sinister ways.

Tomorrow marks the twenty-somethingeth anniversary of a series of books I wrote called Aberdeen’s Anthology. I’m celebrating how I normally celebrate anniversaries: by treating it as any other day but with a looming feeling of dread in the back of my head. I used to be proud of my Anthology, but all it brings now are those dark memories of Plainwood. 

I sit here now in this dark, cold, empty room to finally record those memories. It was long and exhausting, but no longer or more exhausting than making chicken cordon bleu. There of course were devastating accidents and messes, insides hidden by an outside, unstable emotions, an unsavory amount of French, and worst of all, dirty hands. But just like making chicken cordon bleu, the painstaking work of putting the creation together is well worth it in waiting for the outcome.

Despite it all, Plainwood is my home. Would I trade it for the world? Maybe. Maybe for an ideal world where people know how to communicate. Maybe for a world where your mere existence doesn’t cause a townwide panic. Maybe for a world where people are decent human beings. But I definitely wouldn’t trade it for this world.

For all intents and purposes, I cordially welcome you to Plainwood. We’re all spiraling out of control here. That’s how we like it.