"You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you."


...and there's that, I guess.







Fuck.

 Lots of new stuff over on Sudden, violent endings.

Check it out, comment, love.

-End transmission.

 Live on SVE, crossposted to ORROT.


Feel free to check it out, and please comment.

-End transmission.

Definitely haven't touched LJ in almost six months.

Twitter is still active and so are all the movement sites.

Also have a new site: Sudden, violent endings.

I'll probably start cross-posting things from there here, or at least drop a notification link when something important comes up.

It should eventually be a collection of sketches and shorts and general bloggeries, so I may end up co-opting the micro-fics from here, or bringing some from there over here, or something. You'll know as I figure it out. 

-End transmission. 

I have been delaying and delaying posting this, b/c I am not at all satisfied with it and I don't even really think it fits the microfic criteria, but I have finally decided to just say "fuck it" and throw it out there, b/c there is no reason for me to keep holding myself back.

My life is changing so much right now and shows no sign of stopping, and I think I owe it to myself to enact a little change myself.

I will probably do an actual update in a minute here, but if I don't, it's coming soon.

And I am pretty constantly updating on twitter.

Anyway, here's micro-fiction number zero zero two. Feel free to ignore it.

I remember Babylon and its great gardens, its towering skyscrapers. I remember its children, the glory of the human race, coming together, erecting a monument to what they could accomplish. I remember a jealous god, fearful of his creations growing greater than he, sowing discord, confusion, and barriers into his people. All in the name of putting us in our place, reminding us who was the big dick. But if you ask me, I think he was just scared. He knew we were outgrowing him, even then, and cut us off at the knees so he could continue feeding off our fear, our need, our ignorance and the misguided love that grew from them. And he's been taking that hacksaw to our legs ever since, keeping us beneath him with one setback, one disaster, one miracle, one war, one endless fucking cycle designed to prevent us becoming what he made us to be, to keep us needing someone to look up to, to explain away existence and all the magic we don't yet understand. But for every time he shoots us down, we find another way to be great to do something amazing to show that we can use the spark of creation he birthed in us. And with each generation, we are getting further away from his crippling reach.

Unfortunately, I am usually my biggest delay. I've been doing a lot of jobhunteries. Which shouldn't excuse me, but that's the closest I have to a reason. I am hitting another part of town tomorrow, so obviously nothing I've been working on will be finished or posted, but I hope to have a batch out by the weekend, microfics reviews flickr moleskine art and all.

Wish me luck re: tomorrow!

-end transmission.

Been having computer issues all afternoon. 'B' may be delayed until tomorrow.


You'll know as soon as I know.




Thanks for your patience.



-end transmission.

'B'


I have had one suggestion so far. 


Any more? I like suggestions more than random words out of the dictionary, I think, but if I don't get any I think I can work with, the m-w.com it is.




I think the cut off will be around 3pm EST.

-end transmission.

New icons.


Hope to have daily updates.

My flickrstream should always have daily updates: http://www.flickr.com/photos/28731358@N04/



I am also found on whitechapel, warren ellis' internet church/message board/forum/slumpit-of-degradation ( freakangels.com/whitechapel ) under the username chainsaw.serenade, which won't so much have updates, but I am definitely there everyday.




And, of course, twitter.com/omniphobe - which you should be following if you are also on twitter.

If you are not... then get on the stick, bitch!

Love and kisses.


-end transmission


EDIT: I also intend to produce three pieces of artwork a month for the rest of the year, most likely in moleskine sketchbooks. Hopefully by that point, three a month will be nothing and I will have gotten a little better and will be producing like the damned. If the damned were damned to production...

     April tried to make a fool of me, but failed to realize that that's my role year round. The poor thing seemed to think that waking me up to a mouse in my bed was something abnormal. Ha! And they call me a fool. I grabbed the lamp from my nightstand, and hurled it at the diminutive rodent as it skittered off the side of the bed, startling my girlfriend, who gave an anserine honk of surprise. She then proceeded to assault me with a flurry of expletives and a smack to the face with her pillow, unaware of the tiny scavenger who'd been sharing our bed. At least until she climbed out of it and found the little beast cowering in her slipper. Much shrieking ensued, ending in a verbal lashing that would leave the most masochistic mastigophorer feeling shredded. It wasn't as though I'd invited the little shit into our covers, but there's something about straws and camels and I guess this was just the last one...





(Shh. I know it's no good, but that's the whole point. These things are meant to be writing exercises.)


-end transmission