How Disappointing...
I checked my RSS reader and under the BBC World Headlines was “Thailand and Australia eye trade.” In my drowsy stupor, I thought it was talking about the black market sale of eyes. Bastards were just leading me on…
---
First, there is actual writing in this post, I swear. But bear with me.
A while back, I told you that if you didn’t need pants, to go here and have them scared off of you:
www.konamityo.com/sh4/
I don’t really play computer games, and don’t own a Playstation 2, but damn I want this.
Unlike when I mentioned it before, you now have an opportunity to wander around the whole site, instead of just seeing the trailer…get the doorbell first.
Seriously, I fell asleep for four hours, woke up at 2am, decided, “I haven’t checked that site in months, I wonder if there’s anything new!” and clicked around the pages while still half-asleep. In the dark. Good Lord, I am brutally retarded. I think the fact that I can’t read Japanese yet really helped.
I did, however, find downloads and trailers hidden in various rooms…Room M has the trailers.
There’s a list of items in the game…one is called “The Pickaxe of Despair.” I want one.
And, mysteriously, under the “Creatures” list in one room is “Wheelchair,” complete with photo. Hunh.
In Room M, you want the trailer labeled “sh4_0213_12mv2” Turn off the lights, save it, and view it. And pee yourself.
The “Robbie” ones are good too.
---
Now for actual writing. A brief snippet from the antagonist in a story I’m working on. His working name is “Dr. Nemesis Von Baconbrain,” but obviously that will change.
“Scars? Countless. But only one that matters.”
He pointed at the neat little scar on his left temple and looked pained.
“I had just killed seventeen men. Most of them professional killers. And of course the last one, the new guy, the one who had wet himself and was shaking like a leaf got in a lucky shot. Little bastard,” he spat, caressing the wound.
“The bullet passed through my skull and came to rest in the roof of my nostril, an area called the nasal mucosa. It damaged something called the olfactory epithelium. No, it didn’t destroy it, just…changed it, even after the slug was removed.”
He took another bite of his dry toast.
“Since 1942 everything has smelled like bacon to me. Not a little bit, either. Completely, totally, and utterly. It was a novelty at first. But after sixty-two years…”
He paused and lifted a cup of steaming coffee to his face, inhaling deeply. A profound sadness shone in his eyes.
“…the novelty has worn the fuck off.”
---
A while back, I decided that I was going to write a children’s book for kids with Tourette’s Syndrome, to make them feel less out of place. I sure as hell could have used a book like that when I was growing up, wondering why I licked my lips until they were raw, compulsively banged the heel of my hand into my hip, and stuttered like mad.
I decided I would call the book, “Tourette’s Boy Saves the World.” I didn’t have a plot, but I knew that in the end, Tourette’s Boy would be on the alien spaceship, watching them prepare to fire their atomic beam cannon at our defenseless planet. He would suddenly experience a violent twitch and accidentally hit a big button that causes a chain-reaction, destroying their ship.
I quickly realized that this made Tourette’s the hero, and not the boy.
So I decided to write the sequel before I wrote the first one.
I called it “Tourette’s Boy Gets Hit By A Car.” It goes like this: Tourette’s Boy is crossing a road and a car hits him. He rolls across the hood and hits the ground. Standing up and brushing himself off, his head nods up and down, he sniffs the air like a bunny, and his hands flutter like butterflies as he wanders off, unharmed and grunting.
Book three is actually a short film called “Tourette’s Boy Eats A Cat.” It is six seconds long and consists of Tourette’s boy sitting on a porch, ticcing and jerking his head, bits of fur clinging to his lips.
I think they all need some work.
benjamin sTone
4:00 a.m., July 5, 2004
Urbana, Illinois
Current Music: “Govinda (monkey mafia pigsy remix)” by Kula Shaker
Current Books: “A Confederacy of Dunces” by John Kennedy Toole and “The God of Small Things” by Arundahti Roy.
Last Movie: “Come Drink With Me”
---------
compositemolecules@yahoogroups.com is where my hypershort fictions (and commentaries) go
---------
Also visible, with a few exceptions, at www.livejournal.com/users/benchilada
---------
---
First, there is actual writing in this post, I swear. But bear with me.
A while back, I told you that if you didn’t need pants, to go here and have them scared off of you:
www.konamityo.com/sh4/
I don’t really play computer games, and don’t own a Playstation 2, but damn I want this.
Unlike when I mentioned it before, you now have an opportunity to wander around the whole site, instead of just seeing the trailer…get the doorbell first.
Seriously, I fell asleep for four hours, woke up at 2am, decided, “I haven’t checked that site in months, I wonder if there’s anything new!” and clicked around the pages while still half-asleep. In the dark. Good Lord, I am brutally retarded. I think the fact that I can’t read Japanese yet really helped.
I did, however, find downloads and trailers hidden in various rooms…Room M has the trailers.
There’s a list of items in the game…one is called “The Pickaxe of Despair.” I want one.
And, mysteriously, under the “Creatures” list in one room is “Wheelchair,” complete with photo. Hunh.
In Room M, you want the trailer labeled “sh4_0213_12mv2” Turn off the lights, save it, and view it. And pee yourself.
The “Robbie” ones are good too.
---
Now for actual writing. A brief snippet from the antagonist in a story I’m working on. His working name is “Dr. Nemesis Von Baconbrain,” but obviously that will change.
“Scars? Countless. But only one that matters.”
He pointed at the neat little scar on his left temple and looked pained.
“I had just killed seventeen men. Most of them professional killers. And of course the last one, the new guy, the one who had wet himself and was shaking like a leaf got in a lucky shot. Little bastard,” he spat, caressing the wound.
“The bullet passed through my skull and came to rest in the roof of my nostril, an area called the nasal mucosa. It damaged something called the olfactory epithelium. No, it didn’t destroy it, just…changed it, even after the slug was removed.”
He took another bite of his dry toast.
“Since 1942 everything has smelled like bacon to me. Not a little bit, either. Completely, totally, and utterly. It was a novelty at first. But after sixty-two years…”
He paused and lifted a cup of steaming coffee to his face, inhaling deeply. A profound sadness shone in his eyes.
“…the novelty has worn the fuck off.”
---
A while back, I decided that I was going to write a children’s book for kids with Tourette’s Syndrome, to make them feel less out of place. I sure as hell could have used a book like that when I was growing up, wondering why I licked my lips until they were raw, compulsively banged the heel of my hand into my hip, and stuttered like mad.
I decided I would call the book, “Tourette’s Boy Saves the World.” I didn’t have a plot, but I knew that in the end, Tourette’s Boy would be on the alien spaceship, watching them prepare to fire their atomic beam cannon at our defenseless planet. He would suddenly experience a violent twitch and accidentally hit a big button that causes a chain-reaction, destroying their ship.
I quickly realized that this made Tourette’s the hero, and not the boy.
So I decided to write the sequel before I wrote the first one.
I called it “Tourette’s Boy Gets Hit By A Car.” It goes like this: Tourette’s Boy is crossing a road and a car hits him. He rolls across the hood and hits the ground. Standing up and brushing himself off, his head nods up and down, he sniffs the air like a bunny, and his hands flutter like butterflies as he wanders off, unharmed and grunting.
Book three is actually a short film called “Tourette’s Boy Eats A Cat.” It is six seconds long and consists of Tourette’s boy sitting on a porch, ticcing and jerking his head, bits of fur clinging to his lips.
I think they all need some work.
benjamin sTone
4:00 a.m., July 5, 2004
Urbana, Illinois
Current Music: “Govinda (monkey mafia pigsy remix)” by Kula Shaker
Current Books: “A Confederacy of Dunces” by John Kennedy Toole and “The God of Small Things” by Arundahti Roy.
Last Movie: “Come Drink With Me”
---------
compositemolecules@yahoogroups.com is where my hypershort fictions (and commentaries) go
---------
Also visible, with a few exceptions, at www.livejournal.com/users/benchilada
---------