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Hey y’all. T Van here. So last time I asked for your opinion and some of you gave one. Thank you! Nothing sucks like tapping a mike and wondering if it’s on. Anyhoo, I’ve been reflecting on your comments and decided that rather than being quiet about
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I can’t remember which timeline this is, or which path it goes with. If you do, great. Just tell me. Or keep it to yourself. I don’t care which. The thing is, I was in the sublevel of the place where we went. Was it in this world?
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It’s time for a new bio and table of contents. I’ve redone the bio, like, maybe five times? Usually it has a bunch of hyperlinks that jump you to older versions of it. I’ve never reduxed the table of contents page (aside from renaming it “The Caverns”
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Deelya was lying on the bed. I was on the floor. The carpet was starting to itch me a little, but I was too lethargic to move. “I’m nervous, T,” Deelya said. “‘Bout what, beautiful?” “Soots doesn’t know about my past,” she said. ‘My past’ is one of
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You’re writing for no one. It isn’t what they tell you. They say you’re writing for someone, maybe a special someone or just anyone, maybe everyone. That’s one they like. But it isn’t true. You see when you’re dead, then it was all for
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So we’re at the mall, you and I, and I see this guy I fucked. I can’t remember when. That’s no big, but he sees me, and starts walking toward us. “Ah, fuck,” I mutter. At least that’s what you hear. (See below, play procedures.) I
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Hey y’all, Welp, I am finally starting to feel like I can begin <sigh> to get my life back together after having been sick. I don’t really have firm plans, and everything is subject to change cos life. But here’s what’s on my mind
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Master Furrow and I walked up the ridge, all the way to its crest, and then looked down into the valley, at the tiny Jungle city below. He was a huge man—physically quite large—and more than a bit deaf. Couldn’t see very well, either. “All those people
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I was pretty sure I was going to die. Now, lemme back up and say I’ve been wrong before, m’kay. And obvi I didn’t die or how would I be telling you about it. But that’s the thing about stories: you can know how they’re
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Hey y’all. T here. I’m not doing great. Don’t want to write. Don’t want to do much of anything but sleep. Dad’s been dead four months now, but it feels like four years. I can’t seem to return emails or phone calls. I just
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and the first mention of the boring tale of Iz
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Remember the Bishop from way back, like, chapter 4? No? Well, that’s fine. Just read this one with me. It’s from book 5, We Can Never Go Back. Chapter 2, I think. I waited for Shelly to sit down. That’s Shelly without an E between the L
