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Eight Years a Knave
Unlabeled Writing from No Known Address
© 2018 James LaFond
JUL/5/18
It just occurred, after saying goodbye to Big Ron, another of many good friends come together through this site late in life. that as I pack my last boxes of books for shipment to various host houses from the east to the Left coast, that on July 5, 2010, I abruptly resigned the only good-paying job I had ever had, managing supermarket, in order to become a full-time writer.
A superstitious chord simpered in the base of my addled mind: it is July 5 2018.
With recent censorship paring my income and a handful of very generous donations coming in to facilitate further descent into dissent, it is time for me to leave the place where I cut my dubious writing teeth, Baltimore Maryland, for unspecified points in this great and evil nation.
It is about time, what with 40-odd Harm City journals set in the same weary place. It is also time for me to improve my writing style. I have grown bored—sick to death of the terms of discourse demanded by our retarded society: white, black, Right Left, blah, blah, blah into crooked nauseum…
As I limp and roll across the American Crimescape and mix with its bleating cattle, and meet its dissenting souls, the only Harm City posts will be accounts from those I interview about their urban and suburban and even small town life. For my own experiences I will abandon my dissident amateur anthropology style for a purer style of the type I use in my fiction, with the goal the abandonment of all labels, from place names to social designations and even my worn label.
I have titled the project Death of an Author and it will be written under a pen name on a site that will not be linked to or from this site. I will send the link to freinds and patrons.
Thank you for your support, and thank you most of all, dear Puppet Master and Deletion Drones, for your censorship, without which I might have remained stuck in the Baltimore mud.
James, July 5 2018
Books For Sale by James LaFond
The Complete Catalog by Lynn Lockhart
Shot Through the Door
harm city
My Inner Life
eBook
broken dance
eBook
cracker-boy
eBook
the greatest boxer
eBook
advent america
eBook
the fighting edge
eBook
into leviathan’s maw
eBook
beasts of aryas
eBook
when you're food
eBook
honor among men
eBook
on the overton railroad
eBook
the combat space
eBook
all-power-fighting
eBook
fanatic
eBook
z-pill forever
eBook
fiction anthology one
eBook
orphan nation
eBook
sons of aryas
eBook
taboo you
eBook
the year the world took the z-pill
eBook
book of nightmares
eBook
the sunset saga complete
eBook
menthol rampage
eBook
thriving in bad places
eBook
time & cosmos
eBook
logic of steel
eBook
the lesser angels of our nature
eBook
dark, distant futures
eBook
barbarism versus civilization
eBook
predation
eBook
uncle satan
eBook
songs of aryas
eBook
son of a lesser god
eBook
masculine axis
eBook
the greatest lie ever sold
eBook
within leviathan’s craw
eBook
by the wine dark sea
eBook
let the world fend for itself
eBook
triumph
eBook
under the god of things
eBook
hate
eBook
song of the secret gardener
eBook
solo boxing
eBook
winter of a fighting life
eBook
logic of force
eBook
wife—
eBook
fate
eBook
america the brutal
eBook
sorcerer!
eBook
ranger?
eBook
the gods of boxing
eBook
your trojan whorse
eBook
on combat
eBook
night city
eBook
blue eyed daughter of zeus
eBook
the first boxers
Bob     Jul 5, 2018

It's sad to see even a virtual, let alone physical community disbanded. I'm grateful to have found this site (Sam J.'s tip) and for the pleasure and learning from both articles and comments.

Thanks again, Mr. LaFond. (The book title sounds pretty lugubrious. Nomen omen, I hope not.)
James     Jul 5, 2018

It's a social suicide, which, considering my pariah status is like a comatose body in ICU pulling its plug.
Sam J.     Jul 6, 2018

Sigh...
Bran Mak Sworn     Jul 6, 2018

Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant
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