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Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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Of late, the rain gods adore me.

I can not step outside without the chuckling pitter patter of the first few drops in an ever increasing series marking pace behind me. Inevitably they reach downpour level whenever I am halfway to my destination, and lighten to a sprinkle or nothing by the time I get to where I'm going. Perhaps they are crying over the small finger that I mashed gruesomely in some unremembered fashion at the prate punk party a few weeks ago. The pirate punch we brewed renders the user completely impervious to pain, but not mishap. When the finger has completely healed, maybe the rain will stop.

But if there's water everywhere you just gotta learn to swim, and rehearsal for One Shot Reminder went swimmingly this past weekend. I look forward to helping kingsnake to assault an unready world with his 1337 filmic editing skillz, and hope I'm up to par. I mean, I'm playing a smiling bastard who falls victim to an overdose of concentrated memory, so I have no excuse not to get this right. Right? I love being the bad guy.

To those I promised any form of writing to lately and failed to deliver, I cry your pardon. Between work, transit, and various other projects or obligations I'm averaging about 4.5 hours of sleep a night, and I had to just let some things drop. Chamber and Haunt have updates sitting in my notebook, waiting to be typed in as well. Most weekends, after groceries, laundry, and other errands are done, I just need to curl up in bed and die for as long as is humanly possible, but there will be more writing soon, I promise.

Speaking of projects, Satellite Anansi is up on shaky legs. Basically, it's going to be a blog-style creatively oriented forum to enable me, you, and all the Supercontinental Soldiers to network more efficiently on projects, in the interest of getting cool shit done. If you often find yourself in need of a writer, artist, composer, animator, etc., and you know where to find them... maybe you can hire... the A-Team. Shit. I lost my brain halfway through that. I may be tapping gunnergyrl for an assist on site layout.

Stress. I'm doing an entire test team's worth of work on 3+ titles, and they're a over a month in arrears on my paycheck. Also, pride goeth before a fall, and I am going to have to swallow mine and ask for help from friends in order to get my sentence taken care of. See, as long as I have at least a wallet or a phone on me, I can usually get whereever I need to go, but you're not allowed to have anything but the shirt on your back on you when you show up to check in to Elmwood Correctional Facility, aka: The Farm. Yeah, smell the magic. To those who can give me an assist on getting there and back each weekend: thank you a million times in advance, and more. You can bet I'll be keeping you updated on that.

arvakr, thanks for checking in; you been missed, sidekick. ^_^ If your celly #'s still the same, I'll give you a call later on.

beautifulpyre found a cuddly disease for you. And believe it or not, if you read far enough down the page, you will find the link between this time machine and Ellen G. White.

Finally, you may find, as I do, that for some reason you can not stop reading Hulk's Diary That Is On The Internet.

Sleep. Noooooooowww...

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I'd like to know who Murphey is and ask them to check the fine print of the Law they wrote.

I would help you if I could, I empathize with all carless, however it may have come about.

Who DOES do a rock cover of Tracy Chapman's Fast Car?

P.S. I heard a bootlegged copy of a Pink Floyd cover done by Radio Head the other day, it kicked ass. I will obtain copy and share it when I see you.

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