Long Story; Short Pier.

God, hes left as on aur oun.

Modern Medieval.

The Undervalley.

Okay Now.

Weird fiction.

Sagrada Familia.

Novel is not a machine.

Lacuna.

Honestly, I didn’t mean to take a couple weeks off.

Busy with one of those seekrit projekts, but also with the finishing touches on no. 12 over yonder: online serialization begins Monday, and I’m still up here knitting the dam’ parachute. (At least this time I’ve left myself plenty of room for the landing.) —Anyway, it turns out I can only procrastinate so many things at one time? Or something.

I do need to get back to certain things hereabouts, though. —Soon? Soon enough.

—Filed 5627 days ago to Indulgences.

  Textile help

Ink in the stomach.

Volapuk.

Dirtbag.

Judaican’t.

Sinners, and greatness.

Email | Bluesky | Mastodon | RSS

a “Restless” exegesis

Chapter Twenty-Nine: “Mass”

Revolver

Archive | Comradery | Patreon

  • Make a new plan, Stan
  • My last political post
textpattern