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Version 2.0
At some point, I awoke with a jolt of odd energy. It wasn't like most nights, where I'm struggling to breathe and a thunderstorm is ebbing away from the curves of my skull. No, the air was crisp and cool; I sat up and looked around in the dark. The clock was blinking, but the window by my bed told me the time, relative to my geographic standing: ( Read more... ) -
Half-Assed Satire: It's the American Way.
In a lot of ways, my fellow conspiracy theorists are correct on several points: The media is merely the propaganda arm of the American government, and its sole reason for existing lies somewhere in-between fracturing the public into sects of simmering discontent, poised to rip each other to shreds; obstructing and obfuscating the truth by diluting ( Read more... ) -
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When I was young, still a reckless spirit of air and motes of dust, I collided with the sun ( Read more... ) -
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A slow fever has settled into my bones, and a dull pain is filling my head with the slurred nonsense that only a headcold can produce. I can tell you exectly where it latched onto my hand and invaded my lungs, too: This weekend, I attended a reunion. It wasn't for a school or sorority -- dragging my cold and lifeless corpse in by the legs is ( Read more... ) -
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“Gesu, Giuseppe, Marie!” Aunt Theresa exclaimed, crossing herself for good measure. “It’s right there, plain as day. Oh, my little Vesperina. Don’t you worry - I’ll have you fixed up, as good as new. In the name of Santa Sara e Kali - just hold on. I need to get my kit.” She bustled out of the room, muttering to herself in several languages. “ ( Read more... ) -
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When the first plane disappeared, speculation of its whereabouts abounded for weeks. Discussions pinged and blinked across the internet in a busy switchboard fashion, and the most outlandish theories were often picked up by the major news outlets. These bizarre explanations were never seriously investigated, but they did provide momentary comic ( Read more... ) -
The Gospel of Dallas Thompson
It was 2002. A truly epic year because I had gone on a rubber cement bender for eight straight months, and other than the blur of melting colors and the steady, high-pitched wail of the fluorescent lights at 7-11, I simply don't remember any of it. Or can't. Whatever the case, I shouldn't talk about the Rubber Cement Fiesta of 2002. It gets me ( Read more... ) -
In The Garden
I have come, LJ Idol, to warn you about so many wonderful things. All fantastical, and all strange, but above all, absolutely true. I am erupting with joy to share my dire predictions, which have all been cobbled together from hours upon hours of careful research, usually done at night in my basement. But I don't call it a basement because that ( Read more... ) -
LJ Idol
Because I have come to warn you about what LJ Idol is doing to the soil.