NEW KAFFEE UND SCHOGGI

NEW KAFFEE UND SCHOGGI

So. I’ve officially lost my mind recently and, in a very productive (???!) coping mechanism, I wrote something. It’s a novel now, I guess. 24,796 words of something that might legally qualify as a fever dream—and that’s not counting the 2,293 words of notes and footnotes (because apparently I’m incapable of shutting up?).

I genuinely seem to think I’m writing the next great European tragedy.

It’s emotional carnage. It’s sensual SwissAus chaos. It’s diplomatic dinner but make it psychological warfare. And just to really confuse myself, I also dragged Gerita into this. Spuk is lurking. And then there’s Rusprus—the most rabid, frothing-at-the-mouth take on them you’ve ever seen. They’re not just unhinged. The hinges are gone. I need someone to stop me—but also, please don’t.

Read it. Fear it. Annotate it like it’s a dead language.

And because I survived the grueling journey that was Zweisamkeit (and late-stage capitalism, honestly), I rewarded myself by purchasing a Kobo. You can find the lockscreen here. I deserve this. I deserve all of this.

Expect the absurdity to continue. Also, do you ever feel like the universe is just one giant chaotic plot twist? Just me? Cool. Anyway, if you need me, I’ll be under a blanket fort in the corner of my room, hugging my new Kobo like it’s my only friend.