Northward Midget Pole to Pole


Author snarling at camera held in outstretched left arm, wearing brown seude womens jacket with fur-lined hood over a red t-shirt with black Dungeons and Dragons design.

Selfie-as-mirror while shopping Tyler Durden style in the "Womens Outerwear" department of the Walden Amvets.

I'm a father and recovering ex-husband.  I've been diagnosed as having depression with anxiety, maybe an attention-deficit disorder or two, perhaps narcissistic, and possibly something called "depersonalisation disorder".  That last one is the most recent psychological verdict, and more a clinical aid than a diagnosis.  Nobody who knows sociopathy believes I'm a sociopath.  Everyone who doesn't know, well, they usually prefer "psychopath".  I'm not.

Northward Midget began as a creative outlet, then a cathartic receptacle for true-life tales of my separation travails through the New York "Family" court system, then reassembly instructions, and now just somewhere to throw words into the Empty.

The blog title is a twist on an anagram for some thing that no longer exists.  No offense is meant to little people.

The password to password-protected posts is what Dennis Hopper called Christopher Walken.

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