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COMPULSION
(Tuning) / Ribbon Head – Thorns of Life (0:36 + 4:27 = 5:03)
She put the bottle down with a clink. He knew it was empty without turning around – bottles with liquid in them make a thunk, not a clink.
He turned the carrots over and over under the faucet, washing the dirt out of the creases of their flesh. He could hear her staring at him, feel the silence of her desperation tugging at his shirt. He could smell her need for validation, the yawning pit of hate that called him to spin around on her and make a snide comment or, better yet, let loose with a stream of profanity and degradation that would force her to acknowledge she was still alive.
He put the carrot on the cutting board next to the sink, picked up the celery stalks, and plunged them under the cool, clean water. He turned and twisted them precisely, making sure to rinse every trace of soil. He felt the weight of her need lift from him and she lifted herself from the dining room chair. He heard the soft, bare footsteps as she stumbled to the sideboard, felt the hinges of the cabinet shudder open, and knew there was another bottle waiting to console her.
(199 WORDS)
BACKSPACE
(More Guitar) / I Hate New York – Thorns of Life (0:29 + 3:58 = 4:27)
“Telemetry’s looking fine, Schwitz. Let’s downshift and see if we can’t drop momentum to negative without retro-deleting any possibility waves.”
Schwitz looked up from her readscreen, her green eyes hazy behind the data filters on her navgoggles. “What,” she managed after a moment of working her jaw silently. Negs smiled that devil’s grin of his as he shrugged. “My dad will effin’ kill me if we wreck. Not to mention all the possible future-damage we could cause if we screw it up.”
“Isn’t that what makes it awesome?” Negs looked at Schwitz, she looked at him, and, with the ghost of a smile, she punched the BACKSPACE button, time swirled, possibilities collapsed, and she and Negs found themselves in the space behind space, existence’s backstage.
(125 WORDS)
It's almost that time again, folks - National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short) is right around the corner. Starting November 1st, 2009, I will be joing hundreds of thousands of other participants in writing a 50,000 word novel in the course of one month. I've done it twice in the past, failed it once, and didn't even try last year, but I'm ready and rarin' to go this time around.
Guess who isn't real good at east-to-west time change mathematics? Yep, that's right, little old me. Here I thought that getting up at 4:30am Columbus-time (i.e. EST) on Monday morning to catch my flight back to Chicago so I could be at work at 8:30am Chicago-time (i.e. CST) was no big deal because it was just a little bit earlier than my usual wake-up time of 6:00am back home, since, I figured, 4:30am Columbus-time is 5:30am Chicago-time.
Guess who's going to have a table at Mid-Ohio Con 2009? If you guessed Michael Golden, Bernie Wrightson, James Kyson Lee, or Ray Park, you would be correct but would have missed the point entirely. If you guessed me, Eric Rampson, then you would be both correct and fully capable of utilizing context clues. Yay you!I am finally reading James Robinson's Starman. I'm partway through Vol. 3 of the hardcover collections.
Holy crap is this a great book. It lives up to the hype in every way. Shade is one of my all-time favorite characters.
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If I were stuck on this train car forever, would I eventually fall in love with one of the other passengers? Let's, for the sake of argument, say that I will survive for another 40 years here onthis train car. I'm not overly concerned with how that would happen - in the scheme of things it doesn't matter and is far less interesting than the other question - will I fall in love with one of these people?
I'm looking around at the women on the train since I am heterosexual and, while I can't completely rule out a switch in orientation based on a 40 year captivity, I feel that my particular programming is going to make me more likely to grow fond of a female. As I look around, I can already see a few candidates, women who are physicaly attractive to me. If I end up, after ten or five or even one year, falling in love with one of them will it be genuine love or will it simply be a misplaced survival instinct?
This is what I get for not putting my book in my bag this morning...
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I got the chance to play a couple of my GenCon purchases last night with some good friends. Endeavor is definately going to be a favorite - really simple mechanics hiding a fairly deep series of choices, which is right up my alley. Tales of the Arabian Nights is exactly as awesome as my friends reported. Even though I was Accursed, Scorned, Crippled, and Wounded when we had to call the game (due to my continued GenCon-induced lack of sleep), it was still a blast.
I was glad for the distraction of good games and good friends, to tell the truth. I found out earlier in the day that Brainstorm Movies, Comics, and Games - hands down the BEST shop in Chicago and the place I've bought my books for the past five years - was going to have to close it's doors. The wonderful owners may still have trick up their sleeves but things don't look good. It was a dark day for comic fans in the city. I mean what am I supposed to do, buy my books from Graham Crackers' now?
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The first full day of Chicago Comic-Con is over and done. Sold a good number of books and dollar stories, met some great people...good day. Here's to day two! Stop by table 4418 and say, "Hi!"
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