In the interest of making myself more famous, forcing myself to write more, and giving me incentive to put some more publications together, it occurs to me that I should be dispersing the remaining copies of my first chapbook, "Love Letters to Lloyd Axworthy" into the world. I went digging into my small press treasure trove where, expecting to find a great heap of unloved publications, I discovered an envelope containing only six. I still want people other than me to have them, though, so what I propose is this: if you turn out to be one of six people who really did actually want a silly chapbook, written by me, published when I was nineteen, autographed by yours truly with whatever inscription suited your purposes, it is possible you might be accomodated by this offer. They cost nothing at all, but I would ask that postage is paid for them, wherever they go, which would be, like, a dollar -- and, actually, if you can convince me that I actually owe you a copy (hint: guilt), well, maybe I'll even pay to send it to you myself. So, let me know. They won't go fast, but think of how obnoxious it would be if someone you knew flaunted their copy at you, slept with it under their pillow, rubbed it all over their naked body when feeling particularly lascivious -- "I don't need you at all anymore, Gerome! I have the book to please me!" -- (I highly recommend this), and generally reminded you that these pleasures could have been yours if only you'd acted sooner.