I have a week coming up in which I only have to complete three weeks worth of work. This is, in essence, a vacation. So to celebrate, I'm planning more work for myself.

What I really want to do is pledge that, through the course of the next week, I will write one new peice of new fiction each day. Sadly, that is not going to happen.

So here's the pledge: I am going to try to write a piece each day, unless some thing else comes up. I still have to work, and I still have a girlfriend, and a million other time eaters, but when I'm not doing something else, I'm not going to blow off writing.

So what does this mean to you, oh faithless reader? Well, probably a couple of screeds, and one or two actual writing exercises, comparable to the garbage you read in your creative writing course.

Pretentious, melodramatic, overblown, dimensionless, simplistic stylized garbage. Some of those describe my writing, the others describe my writing goals.

But hopefully, it will be entertaining, if I actually write any of it.

One final note. It shouldn't have to be said, but it does: While my writing draws from life experiences, it is not my life. I just deleted a rather lengthy paragraph about this but in short: "F" is for fiction and, as my grade school teacher taught me, for Fred Flintstone. Neither are real, in any way shape desire or form.

Disclaimer ended, please God let that be the end of that.

So. I hope I can produce something this week, and I hope those of you in the peanut gallery enjoy it.


howdy, thanks for stopping by. what you're looking at is the intermittent ramblings of an iraqi vet, college student, goth-poseur, comic book reading, cheesy horror loving, punk listening, right-leaning, tech-obsessed, poorly typing, proudly self-proclaimed geek. occasionally, probably due to these odd combinations, i like to think i have some interesting things to say; this is where they wind up.

"I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us...We need the books that affect us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside of us.

ace o spades hq
bargain-basement allahpundit
a small victory
army of mom
babalu blog
beautiful atrocities
being american in t o
belmont club
blame bush!
castle argghhh!
citizen smash
the command post
common sense runs wild
curmudgeonly & skeptical, r
curmudgeonly & skeptical, pg-13
dean's world
drill sergeant rob
exit zero
enjoy every sandwich
feisty repartee
fistful of fortnights
free will
four right wing wacos
ghost of a flea
half the sins of mankind
the hatemonger's quarterly
hog on ice
house of plum
id's cage
ilyka damen
incoherant ramblings
in dc journal
the jawa report
knowledge is power
lileks bleat
the llama butchers
memento moron
the mudville gazette
naked villainy
nerf-coated world
those damned pajama people
professor chaos
professor shade
the protocols of the yuppies of zion
protein wisdom
the queen of all evil
seven inches of sense
shinobi, who is a f'n numbers ninja, yo
tall dark and mathteriouth
the nose on your face
the thearapist
this is class warfare
texas best grok
tim worstall
way off bass

other must reads: