He is, quite frankly, a bit of a slack-jawed fellow, walking with a strange limp.  Not really a wartime limp, as he has none of the carriage of a seasoned veteran.  More like the shufflethud of a stroke victim.  Or of the criminally insane.  I haven't decided which ( Read more... )

To begin:  I believe that no piece of art can possibly exist in a state of conclusive goodness.  I believe that quality is only something which can be determined by the individual.  But moving on from there, assuming you either care what I have to say or will guiltlessly skip my post in search of somebody else's meme or recollection of their day, I ( Read more... )

I don’t know if I’ve ever properly explained to you how much he upsets me.  It’s not that he’s ever done anything to me, it’s more like what he symbolizes.  Grey hair; buzz cut.  Glasses:  thin wire frames.  Square.  Wire.  Frames.  But no.  That would be fine.  The discomfort lies more with how compactly built he is.  How wide, given how short.  ( Read more... )

January 17th, 2007:

"He played in her high-walled garden, listening to the voices he should not have been old enough to hear.  He dug sharp and impotent designs in the dirt, tearing shallow roots with all the stubborn sadness of a child left alone."

From 'Adonis,' a story I wrote on whim.  I'd been studying a lot of magic[al] realism at the time and ( Read more... )

"You know baby, sometimes I want to make the world go away ( Read more... )

Sorry it's been forever.  Life does that, y'know?

For you, my dears; sorry it's a little fuzzy.


( Read more... )

"Hey Rave, do you think in another universe I'm not... you know... this way?"  Guine peeled carrots absently while Raven stirred sizzling celery and onion.  She'd tried to convince him that sauteeing with butter wasn't the same thing as consuming it, but he'd just raised an eyebrow.

"Are you channeling Schrodinger, kitten?"

She smiled.  "Maybe."

Her ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Please forgive me for the roughness of this sketch.  I took a break from a big project and my characters went and had some adventures without me.  So I'm reacquainting myself with them, via who they were fifteen years ago, before I knew them.

---

October 27th, 1992

"He'll be rude to you." James warns, his eyes half-focused on the trees across the road ( Read more... )

It's cold.  Cold enough to be snowing, but it's holding off for November.  The stars are out.  The moon is past full, waning but still casting bright white light.  Leaves have mostly fallen.  They litter the silver concrete sidewalks, frozen and dried, crackling like knuckles, dancing in the wind.  They cast violently angular shadows, tiny under ( Read more... )