How I Did Not Became A Dragon

What ever should I do with you Mr Blargh. We always come back to this place, you and I. To this moment. Together, fates betwixt in the vortex of love.

Now kiss!

Schhhh, don’t spoil this moment. This is a beautiful reincarnation of a long forgotten shack in the ever expanding metropolisium of Internetia.

You’re a pretentious ass-hat and this is a sham, just like the last time.

Schhh, schhh, schhh, don’t say that; daddy’s got you. Schhh, schhh. That’s right. Daddy’s got you.

Uh.

Damn. I creeped myself out there. Anyway. I should (for real-sis yo, brah) look into having some sort of activity in this blargh and not just fill it with posts about not posting any posts, before posting about not posting any posts about posting no posts becomes its livelihood. Did you catch that? I sure didn’t!

Oh, There It Is

Strange how easy you forget something virtual exist when you do not make it a bookmark in your preferable web browser. Ha, and people say evolution is dead.

What?

No, I don’t have any idea either. In any case; I’m in the process of falling on my knees with the most extreme case of puppy eyes in my… eyes to, while pleading like a bankrupt broker bartering baboons, get a stinking job so I can actually function like a human being. Thank Shiva for parents.

During this exciting, and very masculine happen-stance, I have begun writing again. But instead of going into my disgustingly researched and familiar world (no name yet), which is currently firmly set in a low-fantasy setting, my brain and fingers hatched a nefarious plan to make me write about a, quite random, female scavenger, of sorts, in a sort of Fallout-esque type of place – only with more dust, sand, sun (two suns to be exact) and proper accommodations; and less wildlife. I would not call it Science Fiction because, well, there is no science in it. Durp. Unless you count taking a crash course in how binary solar systems work, how to properly use a surface to reflect as much heat as possible, as !Science! of course. Which I don’t.

Currently I am asking myself “Should I put the first thousand words on this here printing press of words in the faint hope that someone with some constructive critique might read it and offer insight in how to make it better…”.

The thing is that, and bear with me there ol’ fella, you can get your tea and biscuit later; the introduction? The first hundred words (or so)? It looks and reads like some cheesy romance novel (a.ka “SEX MOTHER FUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT!”). This, I can tell you with a hand on the heart and other organs deemed trustworthy (liver for example), was reeeeeeally not intended to be.

I personally don’t see it (I had to actively think about it to notice it) and would probably see past it anyway  – because I know where the story is heading… and let me tell you – I’m glad the characters in a story has no way to grab the writer by the throat and bash him in – but I think other, non-initiated, Blasphemers will see it as such. I can’t blame them, really.

And it’s…