Archive | July 2013

You Live In A Heavy Metal Universe If…

… your advanced technology is extremely painful to use. Need to download a new app to your phone? Well, that’s easy. Just insert this eight inch spike into your right eye, and this barbed plug up your butt, and you should have it downloaded in a second.

… your spaceship’s engines are covered in sharp, spiky bits that A) whir about fast enough to dice the unsuspecting into bone jelly, B) bleed off gouts of energy, preferably lightning, to once more wreak havoc on the unsuspecting. Also, your engine should be experimental and preferably connected to some blighted hellscape nether dimension.

… you’re a pierced, extreme self-mutilating psychopath that can’t even speak in more than monosyllables because of all the blood-soaked rapeymcrape fantasies going on behind your eyes – but still you somehow manage to be as smart as a NASA engineer and capable of piloting a complicated piece of hi-tech machinery around the outer solar system in order to hunt your prey.

… HR only seems able to find crew members with dirty secrets, drug habits, dysfunctions, and/or unintergrated transgressive psycho-sexual proclivities.

… the aliens don’t just eat you – they probe you, inseminate you, eat their way out from inside you,  skin you, and then wear you around to their alien office parties like you’re some kind of outrageous tie.

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Whoosh! Boom! Pew! Pew! Boom!

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Pohang had its annual fireworks festival tonight.

Last Rites For A Vagabond

Last RitesMy story “Last Rites For a Vagabond” has been published over at Beneath Ceaseless Skies. It’s about ghost-hunters, drugs, and making poor life choices. It’s neither “lovely” nor is it just a “good story”.

Here’s a snippet:

The dispensary was so organized it made my skin creep. Give me a hovel little better than a roofed-over hole and a crone with teeth as black as night. She’d hardly care what you bought or why; might even give you more if you spoke straight to her. No one likes a liar, but life forces you to it.

Click here to read the whole thing.

A Heap of Random Thoughts

Love books. Love reading. Don’t love a genre.

The fact that the number of SF authors who would have sex with their cats is not zero is disconcerting to say the least.

Ishmael Reed should be as popular Kurt Vonnegut.

You can judge how healthy a relationship is by how well its members can work together in a kitchen.

Heavy metal is good. Louder heavy metal is better.

Mental incontinence might be more destructive than mental incompetence.

Some folks are ignorant chuckleheads more in love with mansplaining and the sounds of their own voices than in actually saying something worth acknowledging.

The best thing about writing by hand is the sense of accomplishment one feels when one’s pen runs out of ink.

“He cried like some high school twerp screaming emo at the world because the mall’s book kiosk didn’t carry Naked Lunch.”

Some folks think of books as entertainment. I prefer to think of them as mind-altering substances.

Et al.

Beneath Ceaseless Skies Issue #126 is already available at Weightless Books for electronically inclined readers. The issue includes my story “Last Rites for a Vagabond”, which I’ll talk more about when the issue gets published later this week*.

And while you’re over at Weightless Books you might also want to check out Minions of the Moon and Dust Devils on a Quiet Street both by Rick Bowes, Sofia Samatar’s A Stranger in Olondria, and Jim Nisbet’s Snitch World.

All of them are pretty great.

 

* When it’ll be free to everyone with an Internet connection.

Great Books, Great Thoughts?

“It is the notion that being exposed to the Great Books and the Great Thoughts must lead to Great Morals; unfortunately, we should probably be satisfied if it leads to a decent vocabulary now and then.”

– from Robert Sapolsky’s, The Trouble With Testosterone