A small sample of the kind of random crap that sleets through my brain all the goddamn time, which, whilst not terribly edifying in and of itself, may go some way to explain why I must write or EXPLODE (boom).

Patronising Nelson (Nelson="differently abled"). Evil vampire alien nanobot cosmetics that make you lose weight by devouring your life force. An online pro-Domme who uses magick to control her subs, which practice they are not only aware of but get off on*. Everything that begins with an X. A man falls in love with his sex doll and the gods take pity on him and make her live, even tho' she doesn't have a head or any limbs. Your goldfish is God. Your little finger houses the soul of Genghis Kahn. Your tribe hunts mermaids and butchers them for food. The Truth hurts; she's go a recurrent urinary tract infection that's gone to her kidneys. A postmodernist brothel: "LIVE" "GIRLS". There's a clock in my soup. The woman who stole the colour of your hair. Children blossom like mushrooms from the flesh of your forearms.

Borrowing this stuff without asking allows me to sluck out your prana like spaghetti. Really.



*This am my worst idea ever. It must never be done!

Sort of blocked at the mo. Well, not really blocked per se, just stuck in a loop. That last thing I did has stirred up a lot of stuff (for other people as well as for me) and I'm having a hard time moving my head into the next space. I mean, I could just write more of the same (in fact I am writing more of the same) but that gets tired. I'd like to work on my new amputee sex robot story for a while now, then come back to that theme fresh. But I can't. It's like I'm lost in my own anger; the worst of it is, I can see the pettiness of that. The smallness. And yet I still can't seem to pry my brain free of the "I'm cross and I can't do anything and it hurts" box.

Stupid brain.

Maybe write some SMUT instead. Lovely filthy SMUT will fix all things including stupid brain. Mmmm, SMUT.

Still waiting to hear back from the last lot of places I submitted to. I've begun writing poetry again; it's not easy, but it feels good to be doing it. I've even made tentative moves towards a couple of paying poetry markets, shock horror. Only five bucks a pop, but better than a poke in the eye etc etc.

I love webzines. I know I bitch about them, but it's fantastic that there's this big ol' market out there for writers now that just didn't exist a few years back. I wish there'd have been webzines back when I was 18. All we had back then was wood-burning internet.

Anyhow, I have managed to write a new thing for the entities. It's up now, if you want a read.

Some of Armin Meiwes the German cannibal's Usenet posts.

I am Franky from Germany and i search for a young Boy, between 18 and 25 y/o. Have you a normal build Body and will you di, than come to me, i butchering you and eat your horny flesh.

%Well, when you put it like that...%

(via waxy.org)

No big news, just checking in.

Apart from the escalating quantities of snot pouring from every orifice as my recently-upgraded body attempts to throw off a nasty cold via my mucus membranes and completely overdoes it, I'm doing okay. Been feeling energized since my 30th. Not a very interesting number; too divisable, man. 31st is a prime, which'll be cool. Made some more T-shirt designs over on zazzle.com: you can see them here. They are all peppers, though, so don't bother checking if you don't like peppers. So far exactly zero people have bought this stuff but what the hell--i'm extending my creative/magickal datashadow, and that's the important thing. Said shadow is still pretty short, but fortunately the lumpyness of cyberspace means I claim more unreal estate than a cursory glance might suggest.

I will commence putting sigils on tees soon. Then you will alllll be mine.

I've been writing some more: bits and pieces for the entities, and some amputee sex robot stuff which riffs off the Kitchen Lover idea. That's for pimping though so you can't have a read of it until someone buys it. You can, however, have a read of Punching your girlfriend in the tits is a revolutionary act, my newest free fic. Enjoy.

Almost forgot (part 2)

I turn 30 today. (Yeah, me and L.A. have our birthdays within a day of each other. So? Wanna get all astrological, is that it? Huh?)

I guess I'm supposed to do one of those God-I'm-So-Old blog posts, but I really don't feel that way. I'm happier than I've ever been. After years of struggling, there are small signs that I'm finally turning my life around. I'm achieving more than I ever hoped. My magickal life is bearing fruit. I'm living in a beautiful part of the world. I'm in the best shape of my life (apart from the fact that L.A. has infected me with his foul germs and I'm filling up snotrags like there's no tomorrow). Over and above all that, I'm entering the 7th year of a wonderful relationship with an amazing bloke; just being with him makes me happy beyond words. I'm the jammiest fucking bastard alive.

I feel excited to be 30, like I should go out and do something I've never done, go snowboarding or something.

The age-is-death meme must die. Humans (rich western humans anyhow) are exploring the very edges of mortality now; some of us are in this life for a really long haul, maybe 120 years. Time to start enjoying and relishing our long healthy lives instead of bemoaning the fact that we can't stay 15 forever. Time to stop hating and resenting the young just because they're young and we're not. Time to learn to live.

Gonna burn in hell for this one...

fagarina the singing tampon!

NB: link not even a little bit worksafe. Genitalia and everything, man.

Oh yeah...

Almost forgot-- Happy B-day, Lurid Archive! :) We were planning to go clubbing in celebration, but the poor boy's down with the lurgi. (Either that, or he's faking it just so I'll take pity on him and not give him his richly-deserved bumps. Heheheheh.)

A word on the green book...

Was going to post this to the blog in question, but it's more about me than it is about the guides.

I have started a book. They made me. They kept on and on and on until I started this damn book. In vain did I protest that they already had a weblog. In vain did I protest that I'm trying to work on my fiction, poetry, and travel writing. They want a book as well. So the other day I went out to the art /stationary/bookshop and they picked out a notepad. No, they couldn't make do with any old notepad. It had to be a special notepad. And the special green pen.

Then I went and sat in the caff across the way with my green pen and my special book, while Spooky Pervert M-L spent about three quarters of an hour dictating to me.

Five pages.

And it's all about goats.

Goats.

I had a little chat with them in the same cafe yesterday, wherein they chided me gently about not writing a bit more often. Goats, that's why! Goats! Everyone else has proper spirit guides, who bang on about being Evolved and on Higher Planes. Everyone else gets told about their Past Lives on Atlantis and shit. What do I get? GOATS! I mean, who needs Gematria when you can be COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY INCOMPREHENSIBILE in plain English?

You are Professor X!

You are a very effective teacher, and you are very
committed to those who learn from you. You put
your all into everything you do, to some extent
because you fear failure more than anything
else. You are always seeking self-improvement,
even in areas where there is nothing you can do
to improve.


Which X-Men character are you most like?
brought to you by Quizilla


What the fuck? I am so not Xavier! Not not not! I am Magneto, quiz-setting person, MAGNETO! Don't make me come round your house and chuck metal objects at you using only the POWER of my MIND!

Googlewhacking.

Silly damn game doing the rounds, on the B and elsewhere. You have to get a unique result on Google by searching just two words.

Of course, I totally rule at it.

A little more of my stuff.

You're all alone in that internet cafe and nobody loves you

Injectable fetus trainers

Go read, filthy blog-sniffers.