On the eve of this Christmas of 2024, I began putting together a manuscript for an autobiographical novel—a project I’ve been mulling over for literally decades. The stories have accumulated over the years, as they tend to do, and now feels like the right time to start shaping them into something meaningful. It’s a monumental task, and I’m still in the early stages, but I’ve been in a flow state since Christmas Eve, so I suppose this is my Christmas gift to myself—and to anyone who feels drawn to discovering some of the most significant aspects of my journey.

I won’t be sharing too many details while the project is in its infancy (for obvious reasons), though some blog entries and posts I’ve shared here will continue to be woven into it.

I don’t have a deadline for this—it’ll take whatever time it needs. Potential readers, beware: some parts will feel like a lot—especially if you’re familiar with even a little of my personal history. But I’m writing it because it needs to exist. It will be dedicated to the memory of my father, who passed away this past November. His passing was the catalyst that finally pushed me to commit to this project while I was in Israel for his funeral, surrounded by family. I only wish he could read it—I’m sure he would have loved it.

Here’s to finally honouring those stories that have been waiting so long to be told.

• A Christmas gift to myself
• A few of the drawings I destroyed this year
• THE AKATHISIA FILES: PT 5
• THE AKATHISIA FILES: PT 4
• “I like rocks.”