The things I could tell you.

But back in 2010 I had a stroke and my memory and my ability to express myself haven't been what they used to be since then. (At least I think it was at that time: the doctors explained my problems as being due to depression and stress. In 2020 I finally got an MRI scan of my brain and hey, there was a hole in it.) I'd like to think most of my memories are still there, somewhere, just mislaid. I keep digging, trying to revive and reconnect.

And I'm trying to relearn telling things. I'm on the autism spectrum, which in my case means I was never really good with it. I'm trying to be better.

Anyway, I was born in 1965, met and married a very tolerant woman, had three wonderful and highly talented kids near the end of the millennium. Got divorced in 2013. Had a job as system administrator and programmer until my language and processing abilities started to fade away around 2018. Can't say what will happen next.

Technical matters are now costly for me to process, so I'm making an effort to become better at dealing with them. Tales of stylised emotionality, uncomplicated sexuality, and comedy/horror are easy as popcorn for me. I try not to indulge too much.

I give up on most of the stories I start, and the ones I finish usually get away from me in some way. Again, technical writing seems to work best, and when I get personal people sometimes react negatively, which can lead to tiresome correspondence. While I'd love to have an audience who found my writing interesting and informative, basically I'm just trying to find a way in to my own brain.