Look at you Mr. Fancy Pants, Mr. Motion Graphics Creator, Mr. Video Editor and Producer, Mr. Emmy Award Winner,  you’re so vain I bet you thought this bio was about you (wait, isn’t it?). Now, look at you starting to despair at the transient nature of inspiration, falling deep, deep, deeper into depression, into fears about the future of yourself, of your country, of the wild menagerie of glorious star children the straight, the gay, the black, white, yellow and all the others that should be filling the stars of the flag with a billion new facets instead of being made to be afraid to claim it as their own.

Now look at you getting angry, now look at you turning the rage into motion, the motion into creation. Write, write, write, dream, dream, dream a better world, it’s almost complete, almost a thing, what kind of a thing? A play, a movie, no, a novel? You’ve always been a writer but now you can no longer afford the fear of inaction.  The book becomes everything, The Abstract Kingdom is waiting.