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

The Complete Catalog by Lynn Lockhart