How it all started

This morning: seven deer in the usual field, and a fox carcass in the emergency lane.

The sanctity of marriage

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Originally posted Feb. 2004

Square Peg loves Lightbulb

So when are you moving out? You said last night you wanted to move out, Lightbulb says.
Square Peg says he doesn’t really want to move out, that he was just desperate.
Square Peg wishes things would be different is all, but Square Peg’s mind is all BSOD and he couldn’t describe different to save a life.
Lightbulb says a few more things.
Square Peg has to leave for work.
Traffic is light.

Posted in Pain Suit


Proper toast

“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Waiting. I want to try and catch the toast when it pops out,” I say. I pull my hand back for a second and rub my fingers together. “But it’s quite hot this close to the toaster.”
Distracted by speaking that last sentence, I fumble the toast when it pops out and it falls back to the top of the toaster. I put it on a plate and take the glass of Nutella out of the drawer.
“In daycare,” she says, “and at school, they spread the Nutella way too thick. The butter too.”
Only here at home do we know how to spread right.

Fantastic gift idea


Horst has published a new book (in the English language).

This is what famous authorities are saying about it:

    “Messages from the Lost Continent is a unique and at times hilariously funny blend of thriller, science fiction and fantasy novel, which was originally published in 2005 as a fiction weblog.”

You should also know that I helped write it. And I say:

    “If it is half as much fun to read as it was to write, it should be pretty a lot of fun to read.

The promotional site linked above (click on the image) has ordering instructions. I ordered several extra copies to sell to cronies and family members at a marginal discount. If you want one of those*, complete with autograph or whatever, maybe a Bgu, send me an email for further information.

    *Remember, the holiday season is closer than it appears

Square Peg loves Obsidian

Square peg is driving obsidian to the slaughterhouse. It’s still dark outside, a November dark that swallows headlights and streetlights, and the windows keep fogging up.
Obsidian is crying and they’re stuck behind a truck in the slow lane and traffic keeps passing them. Square peg says, “it’s all my fault.”
He remembers a time back in college sitting in a middle lane at a red light in the passenger seat of a friend’s Barracuda, stoned, while fire trucks passed them on either side, red lights flashing and sirens everywhere.
Now that’s getting passed.
This is nothing here, square peg thought.
“I just have the bad habit of rushing you in the morning,” square peg said. “I’ve done that all your life. I have to stop doing that.” He tried to explain.
Obsidian kept crying. She cried all the way to the slaughterhouse.

Posted in Pain Suit


Stupid technical question

Most of the referrers in my logs lately have been various google image searches for maybe half a dozen images here. Is this a new form of hot linking or what?