I was born at eight-something (don’t remember the minutes) PM in New York (but not New York City) in the middle of a blizzard. My baptism had to be delayed because even the priest couldn’t get to church because of the storm. Other than that, my mom had preeclampsia, but nothing else was even remotely noteworthy, to the best of my knowledge.
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Yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"