(no subject)

She’s a part of 365 Tomorrows, a site that is “a collaborative project designed to present readers with one new piece of short speculative fiction each day for one year.”

She wrote a story today…

It shows you that you love her, even though you don’t know her, and can never have her.

Read it, my monkeys. Learn why you need blackwell

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[Yeah, I called you a monkey. Shut up, at least you weren’t hit by a freaking truck in Belgium.]

(no subject)

Sitting in a coffee shop, drinking my triple vanilla latte, hammering out a new Sir Reginald tale while Sara bowls with coworkers and then buys soapmaking supplies.

I keep thinking back to when I first arrived in this town, eleven years ago, and how I terribly miss the midnight sales at the now-closed local music store, Record Service, where we would brave the cold of winter to get our hands on the latest albums...they had an enormous chalkboard above the register that told of new arrivals for the next three weeks.

Now the storefront remains empty, and more and more places vanish, to be replaced by Qdoba, and Potbelly, and Starbucks, and Noodles and Co., and Chipotle.

Fuck, I am become old. And my flask of whiskey is empty.

Back to Sir Reginald...and Sir Reginald.

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WAAAAAAAAH!

I bought new old goggles. The strap is broken, but I don't care.

I'M FROM SPACE!
IN THE FUTURE!
I'M FROM SPACE IN THE FUTURE, BITCHES!



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Music: "Sniper" -- Harry Chapin

PS -- The photo is not wobbly because I have Tourette's, it's because the picture was sent to you from...well...you know...

NOT FOR YOU!!!

Space Future Goggles whilst not on my face:



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