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Being your place on the web to make Pat feel all warm and snuggly... or just a place to type random text... ANYTHING to get those badgers, mushrooms and African snakes out of my head!
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Storytime
I know I am not doing as much creative writing (non-comedy) as I would like to. So starting now I am going to try to do as much fiction as I do "non". Bear with me...
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Price Modules were insidiously hard to remove with anything short of a bone saw and the one in his head was getting him seriously close to considering it again. What else could he do but bite down and run harder.
Every street Nick passed and every person he tore through at this breakneck pace was another incriminating bit of evidence on the pile, and by now every Center Agency in Cyan Wedge was building a decent case against him.
Two asian chicks wearing blue acrylic collars.
Nick logged the image unconsciously. He couldn't help it at this point.
Center Agency could go fuck themselves -- every one of them from Cyan Wedge all the way to White.
A dog.
Simple visuals seemed to stick the best. Better a dog than another street whore team. Price Modules could waste minutes trying to link up a dog to a street intersection. Seconds, or less for a known prostitution team.
Nick hoped for more dogs.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Yeah, I have a predilection for cyberpunk. For some reason it is the first style to jump into my head every time I say "Write a story, Pat! Quick!" Plus, I like starting in the middles of stories. There's a reason why this protagonist is here doing this now, and I know I am going to lose interest if I start with a backstory or any sort of introduction.
As for normal BLOG type stuff: Aaagh! Food is tempting me again! Free food! At least today I chose chinese chicken salad. And I somehow managed to only eat half of it (smaller meals! more often! I am trying, Aaron and MikeD... it's a start)
Also, someone finally broke the sanctity of my Hollywood rooftop asylum. Everyday I go to the roof of our building a couple times... it is the ONLY time I am ever away from my computer. And I knew the pile of cigarette butts was an indication that I was not the only one who knew about the roof access. Heck, there's even a weed pipe hidden on the tool bench in the elevator repair nook (along with the requisite babe photos that the mechanics store there). Now everytime I hear a crunch crunch from the ceiling I KNOW it is someone (bong boy!) invading my sanctuary.
If any of you have a high powered telescope and point it towards Sunset Blvd. and see someone stretching their legs or reading a Mac catalog on a rooftop, that's me.
Pat.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Price Modules were insidiously hard to remove with anything short of a bone saw and the one in his head was getting him seriously close to considering it again. What else could he do but bite down and run harder.
Every street Nick passed and every person he tore through at this breakneck pace was another incriminating bit of evidence on the pile, and by now every Center Agency in Cyan Wedge was building a decent case against him.
Two asian chicks wearing blue acrylic collars.
Nick logged the image unconsciously. He couldn't help it at this point.
Center Agency could go fuck themselves -- every one of them from Cyan Wedge all the way to White.
A dog.
Simple visuals seemed to stick the best. Better a dog than another street whore team. Price Modules could waste minutes trying to link up a dog to a street intersection. Seconds, or less for a known prostitution team.
Nick hoped for more dogs.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Yeah, I have a predilection for cyberpunk. For some reason it is the first style to jump into my head every time I say "Write a story, Pat! Quick!" Plus, I like starting in the middles of stories. There's a reason why this protagonist is here doing this now, and I know I am going to lose interest if I start with a backstory or any sort of introduction.
As for normal BLOG type stuff: Aaagh! Food is tempting me again! Free food! At least today I chose chinese chicken salad. And I somehow managed to only eat half of it (smaller meals! more often! I am trying, Aaron and MikeD... it's a start)
Also, someone finally broke the sanctity of my Hollywood rooftop asylum. Everyday I go to the roof of our building a couple times... it is the ONLY time I am ever away from my computer. And I knew the pile of cigarette butts was an indication that I was not the only one who knew about the roof access. Heck, there's even a weed pipe hidden on the tool bench in the elevator repair nook (along with the requisite babe photos that the mechanics store there). Now everytime I hear a crunch crunch from the ceiling I KNOW it is someone (bong boy!) invading my sanctuary.
If any of you have a high powered telescope and point it towards Sunset Blvd. and see someone stretching their legs or reading a Mac catalog on a rooftop, that's me.
Pat.
