*pterodactyl screech*

i have not been myself for most of my life…

Speaking of screeches - OH BOY DID I HEAR IT when I titled the prior entry “I caught feelings”. Apparently, titling a post about Lewis Capaldi lyrics with that was a ‘bait-and-switch’. Oh, Not-THE-Bestie Bestie, sweetie, dear heart, cinnamon roll, light of my life, Bless. Your. Heart. I absolutely love and adore THE Bestie, but dude. I’m not doing long distance, been there done that twice, and Bestie has kids. Plus, I’m pretty sure his mom still hates me. I don’t know why she would hold a grudge because I am pretty lovable.

Sorry. I couldn’t even type that with a straight face.

Anyhoo. Let’s get to the reason that I was screeching.

I received an ARC of Cash Hooper Saves a Life. There is nothing in the world like being one of the first in the world to read something by your favourite author(s).

But.

The trade off for getting the ARC is having to write a book review.

FUUUUUUUCK. I hate book reviews.

It’s like being back in school, writing book reports. Like, what can you say that doesn’t give the plot away? It’s not like I could go on Amazon and talk about how this story is so amazing that it deserves the really, really, really good lube.  The best lube. Überlube.

(Why yes, yes, I did just research lube specifically for one joke. What?)

I mean, I’m not sure a review as unhinged as this one would go over well on the ‘Zon: If you remember, the entry where I talked about dicks. (Lots of dicks. ALL THE DICKS.) you’ll remember that I completely orgasmed over a Bunnywest fanfic. Weeeeeeeelllllll, she wrote a book… YES. IT IS SO GOOD IT DESERVES SOME SERIOUS ALL CAPS LOVING. AND THE REALLY GOOD LUBE.

Or this one. Succinct AND unhinged: Bunnywest’s second book dropped at midnight.  If I stayed up for a book launch, is it really too much to expect me to wait until I woke up to dig in? It was worth the lack of sleep. Seriously. It, too, deserves the very. good. lube.

Oddly enough, I dialed back my review because it was too deep. Too personal. And not once did I mention dicks OR lube.

What? I can’t grow as a person?

You! In the back! Yes, you. Shut it.

(Completely random side note, I’m watching a vocal coach react to Tesla’s Love Song and I am currently reliving sitting in a van headed down to the Cape and singing along to it with Ken, who appreciated having another rocker on the trip. We miss Ken. He was good people. And now I’m blanking on the lead singer’s name. Hold, please.)

(His name is Jeff Keith. It was obviously very important that I knew it right this very second, but I’m back now.)

(Hello, mania, my old friend. I’m writing with parentheses again.) 

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, lube.

No.

Not lube.

Unhinged book reviews.

So… lube.

(Apparently my new anti-anxiety meds make me really fucking manic. Good fucking times. At least I can’t taste colours this time.)

Let’s try this again, shall we?

Cash Hooper is the fourth book in the Goose Run series and my second favourte BunnyWinter book. Number 1 is The Amazing Alpha Tau Self-Improvement Project and the reason my little Aussie pup is named Marty… and yes, he is still due a blog entry of his very own.

But that’s not the point.

God, this post is all over the place and terrorizing me like it was a goose named Lucille. (Who is most definintely a killer, albino, cobra chicken.  I refuse to believe otherwise.)

(Fuck, these meds are really messing with my head.)

Ah, bipolar. You cvertainly make my fucking life interesting.

*cracks knuckles*
*clears throat*

So.

Cash Hooper is the main character in the fourth book of the Goose Run series by BunnyWinter. We get to know him throughout the first three books in the series through his interactions with his twin brother, Chase. The Hooper Boys have been through it and Chase has built walls around him that make mine look like chalk lines on asphalt. He’s loud, obnoxius, and the biggest fictional asshole I have ever come across. Cash, on the other hand, is pretty much mute, He doesn’t speak to anyone except his brother, keeps to himself, and doesn’t really interact with anyone. The only person he repeatedly engages with - outside of his brother - is a retiree named Mr. Conrad… until he finds a dog that is need of emergency veterinary care.

The next thing you know, Cash speaks! He has a personality! He’s not his brother’s shadow! He is a whole fucking person - who is (wisely) afraid of albino cobra chickens.

Now, the thing about watching Cash go from selective mutism to whole fucking person is that it just reminds me so much of me.

Horrifically abused, prefers to melt into the background, silent, introverted, loves to read? That’s me.

I have a scar between my eyebrows from when my mother decided to use my forehead as an ashtray. I still don’t know how she didn’t break a rib when she kicked me that night. I still don’t know how I survived being shoved down the basement stairs, or how I never got hypothermia from sleeping in the garage because I was afraid to be alone in the house with her… Alcoholics are about as much fun as bipolar, but bipolar makes me weird(er), not violent. Silence meant survival, unless The Ballad of the Green Berets was on the record player. Those were the nights nothing short of actually leaving the property was safe. I am introverted and shy, but here we are thirty four years after shoving her into a hole in a ground, and I find myself wondering if that is nature or nurture. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, I guess.

Books have always been - and will always be - my safe place. It doesn’t really matter what they’re about… let’s just say that I discovered kinks that I didn’t even know EXISTED until I started reading more as an adult with access to the internet. (Fan fic really opened my eyes to all kinds of fun things. Dead doves, mostly. What is it the kids say, #iykyk?)

Like a perfect storm, this book, the song “Almost Who I Am” (by David Wimbish and the Collection), AND the memory of seeing Instrument at the Warehouse all hit me simultaneously.

That Warehouse show was a hoot - some guy was trying to get me drunk by buying me shots (of water) all night. “We’re not groupies! We’re in Marketing!” Fuck, we were so young and so stupid… but that’s not the point. The point is that I was myself that night. 100% unfettered, totally free, and totally fucking ‘faced. *snickers*

Now, remember, I’m introverted / shy and prefer hiding in the background. This girl, B, made the very loud comment about how she couldn’t believe how funny I was and why was I so quiet in college, blah blah blah.

I only ever open up when I feel safe. When I find my people. When I have something to say. Much like Cash… but he was a little slower at it. In college, I got dragged kicking and screaming out of silence by the most obnoxious, extroverted person I have ever been friends with. (Hi, V!) But I wasn’t dragged out far enough, obviously, because B didn’t know me like that.

Which then brings me to my new theme song - which I will happily share with Cash: So if you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. Don’t worry; you’re not crazy. I’m almost who I am but never quite.

This book rocked my world like nothing I’ve read in a very long time. I felt every single step of Cash’s journey because I lived it.

Kudos, BunnyWinter. All the fucking kudos.

And the Uberlube.

Because… lube!