My unironic red pill

I'm taking a job as the reporter for a biweekly paper in the Upper Plains. It's probably OK with my future boss to disclose the name of the paper, but I kinda don't want to jinx it. I'm set to start in March.

It's close enough to Colorado that I could get off work in the summer and be with my dog in the Rockies by sunset, and it's two hours from the closest store to "really buy men's clothes," I'm told. If you know it, don't tell me, maybe I'll see you there.

It probably has decent internet access, but I don't want to stay plugged in anymore, so I don't really care. The paper doesn't have any online presence, the publisher says they don't need one, so I'm going to train to be his lead reporter/editor, and layout the copy and take it to the printer. I'm going to learn something new every day on my own, and almost definitely keep doing blog posts here on the same material, but maybe not.

I'm going to be in an apartment for less than $400 a month and a comfortable house with multiple bedrooms within a year, and never expect to creep too close to $1000 a month rent.

I'm going to cultivate and nurture my mind and body and give Miner the time of his life in rolling hills and snowy yards. I'm going to live a simple life for a while.

"I want to be an honest man, and a good writer." - James Baldwin