Alas, it would seem that there was an error in my calculations yesterday. It turns out that the stars are not right. Or maybe they were right, but only for yesterday. In any case, the terrifying madness brought on by my Cthulhu gnosis has subsided, and I have remembered who I am: an Asatru poet and writer, dedicated bringing the Mead to Midgard in service to Óðinn and Valhöll. Though it was only two days ago, it feels like centuries in a way.
For anyone out there who still hasn’t figured it out, I have only two final words about yesterday’s post: