“Poisoned!” cried Lord Sauding, hurling the bowl away. It arced through the room before getting caught in the sagging badminton net and sloshing its contents in orange glops. The net relaxed and the crockery shattered into jagged bits as it hit the floor. Continue reading →
Sakurasou
“Boatswain, have you seen my Felix? He was just here.”
Bastian’s hand found some wooden protrusion and steadied himself, and he spat an oily wad of phlegm onto the deck. But he didn’t retch this time. He felt his atrophied skills most profoundly in his limbs, heavy and distant, like a stranger’s. Braced by the brittle sea air, he soon had command of his senses once more. A gull shrieked above him, its wings frozen by memory. Bastian wondered how long it would hang there. Until there is no one left to remember. Or longer.
He turned to face her. Continue reading →
Oubliette
I’m archiving some of my entries from a now defunct collaborative writing project, the entirety of which can be found here: http://collectiveinventioncontention.blogspot.com/
—-
Bondmistress Oubliette herself had come to find him. The sputtering bulb in the elevator shone through the wide moth eaten brim of her hat, dappling her pale face with sodium-colored light. Of all the caretakers, Bastian considered Oubliette’s face the most well maintained. Continue reading →
Always Changing Probably
I must resist the foils. Shall I become hideous to them? Shall I construct a bullwark? I need a lefttennant with my best interests in mind. A guard against the foil. That is what is always missing from the scene: A friend.
I can still feel your wake. Damn it, I’m right here! I’m standing as still as I can, given my shifting nature. Where are you? I’ve learned how to track so many trails. I’ve learned how to track *me*! I’m not present and I never will be. But I am focused like light passing through a diamond. I’m that sparkle in the moment, even as I move through many shifting dreams where clocks are useless.
Find me.
Foolishness and Shame
I saw her again, the avatar. Garbed as a swashbuckler and lovely beyond reason. In the company of the dread pirate, a man I come to find was a knave of the blackest stripe.
The pattern appears and the players are drawn along its shattered axes. The foil shows herself, drawn to me, as she always is. I’m so fucking weak. Lonliness sapping away all my brave plans.
But now my understanding of the pattern is more complete. I should be able to recognize the cycle immediately when it starts again, not halfway through the dance, when it is too late.
Dream in Indigo
I did not want to be categorized, pinned like a butterfly, labelled in a jar. But there was such a resonance, such a come hither, such a sense that I might find my people, that I had to go. I warned them of my reluctance, of my resistance to woo-woo bullshit (even as I craved it in my heart, even as I *knew* the things I knew). I wanted to be disqualified somehow, to fail their checklist. I want to belong, but on my own terms, ineffable even to me.
I joined their circle. I looked at the patterns. I closed my eyes and went inward. The narrator described the things I saw, too slow as my mind is nimble. Shocking to learn that everything has a name, each waveform, each transition, a chakra spinning at every gateway. I did not have a use for these words. An artist paints without naming every color. The narrator was almost scientific in his precision, enabling failsafes, gesturing towards spinning discs of code as though we were on a tour of the astral plane.
The gift I received was that everything had been accounted for. Someone else was curator of this knowledge and I no longer needed to worry about it. I went in search of the Like Mind and found that scholars had been recording all these silver spools for decades.
I could just go and be.
No Maps for These Territories
Some might call this a return to form. Some may see that the circle is a cross-section of an aetheric arrow. But now we shall exchange authorship, sidestepping into a parallel dream. Those of you here for the peanuts can get off at the next exit. Only existential bread and circus now.
When working on a puzzle, there comes a time when one must stop calling it that because it has turned into a picture. You can feel the scarred edges of each piece, yes, but there is no denying that what you behold is more than the sum of its parts. So it is useless to speak of a process, to account for vectors of trauma and ecstasy, to endlessly explain to the fascinated faces. When that last grain of sand crashes into the lower bell of the hourglass, well… one knows just the sort of beast they’ve become.
Sweet Ride
As promised, a photo of the new ride. I dub it the Swordfish II.
Magic is Limited
Another priceless gem saved from the spam filter. I of course did not open the attached “mystic.zip”, though I felt strongly compelled to.
——
yes. look in this mistic box.
what? don’t want. no problem 😉 magic __IS__ LIMITED
details attached!
The Doctor is in
Not the most stellar of premieres, but it was wonderful to see that spinning blue box again.
And another season of Torchwood comes to a close. I hope that in season three they sort out their issue with a cohesive arc that has a more meaningful impact on the finale. So far the showrunners have peppered something of an arc randomly through different episodes and then have “plotlines” I was unaware of suddenly come together completely out of nowhere. While I like the big arcs other shows have, Torchwood is really about each of character’s plotline. That’s what I find myself caring about the most.
I started Haibane Renmei again. I had started on the fansub years ago and then gotten distracted.
1. Veronica Mars
2. Lost
3. Battlestar Galactica
4. Torchwood
5. Doctor Who
6. Flight of the Conchords
7. The League of Gentlemen
8. Haibane Renmei
9. The Mighty Boosh
10. Witch Hunter Robin