March 2013
1 post
Ghosts
The ghosts don’t really bother me anymore.
Oh, they used to. The hidden shadows, the movement just out of the corner of your eye, the specter of someone long since passed. I used to see them back when I was a child, back when I was afraid of the dark. I’d cry and scream, and my father would yell at me to shut my hole, and likely as not smack me around until I shut up (always an open...
February 2013
2 posts
Hello: We need to talk about the Friendzone →
yeti-detective:
How is this even a thing? I’m a dude. I get it. Girls can be scary. They look just like humans, but they make Weird Things happen in your pants-area. It must be magic. They are the Gargamels to your dick’s whatever-Smurf-your-dick-is.
(Sidenote: the makers of The Smurfs meant for each Smurf to…
Words. Not always easy.
January 2013
4 posts
December 2012
5 posts
Quonset
I miss her. The words can’t begin to do what they need to make any of this right. When I close my eyes, I can still smell her hair, that weird shampoo that she used that always left me feeling like the second day after a hangover from a sex-filled weekend. I remember her curled next to me, skin on skin, half-sleeping touches eliciting slow moans of pleasure and sweet smiles. I remember us...
November 2012
9 posts
Update in real-time (rare item: +25 XP, +3GP)
Bad on writing as of late. Blame is on medicantery, phlophexerone and pharmaceutical flim-flammery, flogging the Molly of my writing gland into a place of exsanguinated concussion. That’s an even more violent description of the past several months worth of bloated deception that was my mental life. It’s only the past few weeks that I’ve even been able to take virtual pen to...
October 2012
1 post
September 2012
3 posts
voices
There is a difficulty that I’m finding in getting hold of my thoughts like I used to be able to. Getting words down on paper— or in bits and bytes— used to be much clearer, but now it’s like a grainy, thick fog has come and saturated the part of my brain that “sees” the trails of words. Where before it was like a whirlwind of ribbons of thought, it’s now...
August 2012
1 post
July 2012
1 post
June 2012
2 posts
Someone told me you like aprons →
May 2012
11 posts
A collection of curious things from a museum... →
Photography, or some semblance thereof.
Been very focused on recovery as of late. Finally ended the project that had been sucking my soul over the winter, and came back feeling like I had just returned from the war zone. Shell-shocked.
Stopped writing for a while, needing to get away from words and sharpen my skills elsewhere. Photography seems to have stepped up to the plate as the elsewhere (or perhaps elsewhat) for some solitary...
I don’t have voices in my head, I have imaginary friends.
April 2012
6 posts
Mayville
“Too many bats in the belfry, eh?” The question came from a small man in the scrubs-and-robe garb of an inmate. He looked a little like a garden gnome, or maybe one of the dwarfs from the Disney movies. “I beg your pardon?” “Rydell. Crazy fucker.” The gnome giggled a bit at that. “Too many walnuts in his fishbowl.” He tapped the side of his head....
Annie
Anakin hated his name. His parents had thought it was cool back in 1999 when Episode I had come out. His mom had gone to the premiere dressed as a pregnant Princess Leia, and had gone into labor during the closing credits. She had delivered him while still in the costume, and had the freakin’ thing mounted in a frame, blood and mucous stains out thewre for the entire world to see. She had...
Bridge
Doctor Deckard spoke into a small headset.
“Miss Paige. Miss Paige, can you hear me?”
The woman in the tank opened her eyes slowly and blinked, then her eyes went wide and she tried to scream, thrashing about.
“Miss Paige! Listen to me! There is no need to panic. There has been an accident, a terrible, terrible accident. You are submerged in a holding tank that is helping...
Pissary
I should perhaps not post words when I am in a cranky mood, but those are the times that you savor, so I shall try to entertain you with my rantings. Women. Okay, be truthful, you read some sort of attitude into that single word written in my post, and it’s an entirely different attitude than you would have taken when seeing it on a plastic sign on a wall in a bar. Most likely it’s...
scarlet, part 2
“Thank you for coming, Viktor. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Babi Cheshka was resting in her bed, her face pale and drawn. Viktor Lupescu was boiling water for the herbal tea that his grandmother had taught him to make when he was so much younger. He had spent many summers with her in this cottage in the Dark Forest, and she had taught him the ways of the old world...
March 2012
5 posts
Scarlet, part 1
Jess saw her first dead body when she was eleven years old. It was a bloated thing, half hidden behind a rotting fallen tree in the woods behind her grandmother’s house. Someone had tried to bury it there, but between the woodland animals and the natural processes of decay, it had surfaced, blue and swollen like a giant mushroom with a face on it. She hadn’t been frightened then, not...
Ides
Marcus loved power, almost as much as he loved women. The two women in his bed— Suzie, he thought, and Lynda? Lydia?— had been a good distraction from the polling numbers lately, but he needed to get his mind back in the game. Work hard, play hard. He left a couple of hundred-dollar bills on the end table and let the girls sleep in. The maid service would eventually come and kick them...
