You Can Be My Goose, Goose

Hi, I’m Julian. I’m a writer, and my pen name is J.R. Traas. Seeing as we’re about to become very intimate, you and I, just Julian will do. Fast friendship demands familiarity. Wink.

Me? As of this post, I’m 24 and some change. I speak three languages (to varying degrees of proficiency) and I graduated from the University of Georgia in May 2014.

I’m an English Major, having Minored in History and Philosophy. The goal was to become The Least Employable Person to have ever lived. So far, this has really been working out. I’m excited to report an approximately 80% success ration vis-a-vis the remaining unemployed issue. The other 20% have to do with my working (right out of school) in the legal field, as a report writer, and, more recently, I interned at a small, independent hedge fund. I have some interesting, eclectic tools sitting in my dingy work shed. If you–whoever you might be, dear reader–want to talk about weird stuff, send me an email or leave a comment. I’m disturbingly unpicky about conversation topics.

Dear reader, if we’re going to be on speaking terms (and I do so hope we are), I’m going to have to call you something. A pet name–though I will never dare to try to possess you. You’re a free bird, I know. And that’s why I love you. Hey! I’ll call you Goose. Yeah, you and all your friends (whether or not you’ve met them yet), as united by the reading of this humble blog, you’ll all be my Geese! Hooray. Done. Irreversible decision, I’m afraid, my Goose. Honk at me all you want–I’ve seen many a finely feathered and proud Goose in my day. Why, when I was struggling through college chemistry, there’d be some teeny-weeny goslings waddling around near where I’d park. And I watched those adorable fledglings grow into great, big, irritable, squawking birds. (There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, I think.) Anyway, I grew rather fond of them, those geese. They were quite something. I came to enjoy them not for any particular reason other than that they were. “Were” what? Nothing in particular. Just were. So you’re my goose, Goose.

What am I doing lately? Well, I’m writing a lot, in between searching (mostly fruitlessly) for work. Currently my cat is asleep beside this keyboard, snoring. She has respiratory trouble sometimes. I think she might have hay fever. But my point is, her name is Stripey, and she keeps me company as I write. My current project is a novel which falls into the “alternate reality pseudo-fantasy satire” genre. Probably just call it fantasy satire, for short. If you’ve ever read any Terry Pratchett, you’ll see one of the several key influences on my work. If you HAVEN’T read any Pratchett, I respectfully demand you cease reading this post immediately and go have yourself a grand romp of an adventure through Hilarity and into #deep, and back again.

In November, I published a book of poetry–because that’s the kind of guy I am, apparently–and, surprisingly, it’s not the cash cow you’d expect. If you’re into satire, haiku, poems about stuff, or anything observational in general, I think you might find it worth a perusal. The collection, on the landslide catwalk, is comprised of 200+ poems of varying length, concerning various subjects (love, studying, Goose Spirit Animals (perfect for you, my Goose), and finding some semblance of peace in a chaotic world). For just $1.99, you can snag yourself a Kindle or Nook copy and find out just how insane I really am. People have told me the work is amusing.

If you’re cash-poor, like me, at the moment, but still dig poetry, boy do I a sweet deal for you, Goose. If you send me an email ( asking for a copy, I will give one to you in PDF format. I will send it to your email. The catch? This is still bartering. I.e. there must be equivalent exchange. If I send you otlc for freezies, I ask only that you write me an honest review on and/or That really helps me out, and I prefer it to the cash, honestly.

It’s hard out there, being an artist, and so forth and whatnot. I know, believe me. If you wanna talk, Goose, remember, I’m here for you. We can (figuratively) drink our sorrows away, gulping down the heady wine of commiseration.

To be clear, I’m not writing this blog with the sole intent of publicizing/whoring out my own work. That’ll account for some minority percentage of what we do here at Bilander. But Bilander, as an entity, is its own creature, endowed with its own goals and merits. There will be more to follow on what exactly Bilander is, but, for the moment, I leave you with this tantalizing aperitif.

More to follow, but life calls.

Keep flapping and honking and squawking, and keep being you.


You Can Be My Goose, Goose

2 thoughts on “You Can Be My Goose, Goose

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