Long Story; Short Pier.

God, hes left as on aur oun.

Resonance.

Disco Elysium.

Turing machine.

Close reading.

Romantasy.

Six hundred thousand words and counting.

A brief note on the appearance of the fortieth novelette, this week and next, over at the city; we’ve launched into Next Thing I Know, and are coming up fast (I hope) on Ain’t That Some Shit. —As the tagline runs: “In which forensics are seen to, and a beloved companion, a gift is given, and a window restored, portions are measured, and measures will be taken.”

No. 40: dirty white noise
  Textile help

Walter Rodney.

Tron.

Drexciya.

Gray Lady.

Email | Bluesky | Mastodon | RSS

the Koan

a “Restless” exegesis

Jupiter drops

Archive | Comradery | Patreon

  • In Memison, one must try the fish
  • Good citizens are the riches of a city
textpattern