A Hash at Home is Better Than a Roast Among Strangers

BREAKING: I bought the stationary bike

Sat, 29 Aug 2020 01:40:42 GMT

Breaking on through to the other side.

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We built this city?

Thu, 20 Sep 2018 18:23:13 GMT

Of all the things, this is one of the least notable things, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around "This is a tough hurricane, one of the wettest we've seen from the standpoint of water."

Don't worry, though: Sir Paul McCartney's new album has a song about climate change on it, so at least ... uh, at least we'll be able to listen to shitty music as the environment turns ever more deadly. From the standpoint of water.

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Hey! I'm on Dreamwidth

Mon, 10 Apr 2017 15:52:24 GMT

I migrated over there a long time ago because I got paranoid about LJ going dark, but now that it seems to be going dark in a political sense, you can find my terrible blog on DW, with the same user name.

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Microbie is a great friend who made this possible

Tue, 02 Feb 2016 20:40:33 GMT

View Poll: Thank you Microbie!

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Another "short" story

Sat, 24 Jan 2015 22:30:46 GMT

I apparently can't write anything under 8,000 words these days. Well, a productive use of a snowed-in Saturday, at any rate.

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I done did some more writing

Fri, 16 Jan 2015 19:56:49 GMT

This, as always, is just a first draft.

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Man what even is this

Mon, 27 Oct 2014 05:08:33 GMT

I went to Salem with a bunch of good friends on Saturday, and when I got home the writing bug did bite me. Twelve hours and 17,000 words later, I have this thing that does not have a name or a purpose, but I never did write anything this long before. I don't know what it is or where it came from, but it was fun to do; for the first time ever, I sat down to write three or four times over the last two days excited about learning where this would go. If you read this thing, may God bless you and keep your name forever upon the land. There are no rewards for completion, other than virtue itself. Here 'tis:

More than anything, I don’t want to Google “Dick Blood,” but the thin, intense man sitting across from me says I need to do just that or my story will be incomplete.

No, not incomplete; my story will be so fraudulent that “inaccurate” would be high praise if I fail to learn all I can about Dick Blood, says the man sitting across from me, whose name is Zane Nino.

“I’m not even sure I can do that on a work computer,” I tell him.

We’re having coffee in a diner somewhere near Los Angeles, and Zane Nino is losing patience with me.

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