"Blessed be the inventor of photography! I set him above even the inventor of chloroform! It has given more positive pleasure to poor suffering humanity than anything else that has cast up in my time or is like to -- this art by which even the poor can possess themselves of tolerable likenesses of their absent dear ones."
from a letter by Jane Welsh Carlyle, 1860

now that i'm not so busy, my brain has been lighting up like a fucking torch.

expect more soon.

not a single dream worth mentioning in 8 months.

fuck almighty, my life sucks.

I've had a particularly bad breakup, 2 promotions, college, and a bit of a mid-life crisis, and my brain just doesn't want to do anything fun. Re-reading what I had posted before got the writing juices going again. I wish i had time to really put it on paper. College and extraneous education say otherwise...

I should use this as a daydream dump instead. that happens more often than i like...

I got Left 4 Dead recently, been watching Romero movies in the background of doing homework (yet another reason i don't post here or in my regular LJ roleplay communites anymore). SO

GUESS WHAT I DREAMT YESTERDAY

and I'm really glad it was vivid and creative:

So, the zombie outbreak happens. It's just me, really, at a park or an outdoor area with a lot of manicured grass and trees. Zombies come running that look like they're half regular, colored-nicely people, sewn together to rotting parts in seemingly random places. They act like zombies, run around like 28 days later zombies, and eats people like Romero zombies (wewt). So, i hide by squeezing myself into one of those sewer outets you see in the street, then crawling down the opening into the sewer proper. Down here, I see Kimba and Newbeh. They're not willing to go back up to see if anybody else is around. I agree at first, but this is where the dream cuts out. The next thing i remember is being in a rather nice car with somebody that's in a grey suit with long black hair and a waxed mustache. he's got an ebony cane with a handle that looks like a stack of 3 skulls with a railroad spike through them. He's driving around the zombie horde, and they're not attacking his car. I pick up his cane from the back seat, and the handle comes out, revealing an orange liquid. This guy goes on about how that liquid opens doorways to other universes on any scale, and these zombies are people from a direct opposite universe to ours, and he had opened microscopic doors inside people that makes them go nuts and have parts of them rot off.

This is where I wake up, all dehydrated and 3 hours before my alarm goes off.

I'm friends locking this journal, due to some laws that have passed recently to where anything posted online can legally be ganked for webmaster's profit.

FUCK THAT.

i realize LJ can come along and take whatever they want, but i'm also keeping everything i'm writing here in a number of backup places as this is kinda my lifelong dream, to write stories people will actually want to read. This way (knocks on wood) if anything does happen to come up as a copyright showdown, i'll at the very least have a postal copyright to throw around.

all's you need to do is friend me up on the LJ and we should be good.