"And I hadn't been"

I got a new fancy digital SLR camera! That means new, better pictures!

And ring the new year in right with a new installment of The Propagandist.

A Xylophone Writes

Please stop hitting me.

Stairwell, Flights 49-50

Amy isn't here anymore.

It's just Peter and Calvin, making their way up, step by step by step.

Peter is starting to slow a bit, but Calvin is dutifully behind him, deliberately slowing his steps to keep pace with his friend.

Peter stops to rest at the landing of the 50th floor. He sits on the ground under the big painted "50".

"This isn't easy," Peter says.

Calvin shakes his head.

Peter smiles, and Calvin gives him a quizzical look.

"You ran up and down 34 flights of stairs to get the ice for Amy, and yet I'm still the one who's out of breath."

Calvin gives a little smile.

"That was a pretty nice thing to do," Peter says.

Calvin gives him a quizzical look.

Peter is embarrassed. "You don't have a thing for her, do you?"

Calvin stops smiling, but not in an injured way.

"Calvin?"

Calvin shakes his head. Peter clears his throat a little bit, awkwardly. He stands up.

"Let's go."

He goes.

This is Probably Emo

I transcend.















Dammit.

Stairwell, Flights 32-34

This time it's Amy that falls, but it wasn't as mild as Peter's. She was not paying attention, it seems, and kept climbing when there was not a step to place her foot on. She falls hard on the landing of the 32nd floor, landing heavily on her left hand and her right elbow. Giving a little moan, she lies on the landing and clutches her leg.

Peter and Calvin are nearly a flight and a half above her, and Peter only stops when Calvin turns around. With a roll of his eyes, he leans against the wall.

Calvin glances down through the crack between the stairs and, not seeing Amy, vaults lightly over the rail to the floor below him.

He runs down the stairs to Amy, helping her lean herself against the wall behind her.

"Call Peter," she breathes.

He looks at her helplessly.

"Peter!" she yells.

He walks down, annoyed, but upon seeing Amy, rushes down the last few stairs.

"You hurt?" he asks, leaning down next to her.

"What do you think?" she bitterly responds.

"Hey, I was just trying to-"

"Shut up!" she says.

There is a brief silence.

"I think you need some ice," Peter says, "Calvin, grab some ice."

Calvin nods and gets up. He tries the door, but it is locked.

"Dammit," Peter says.

Calvin hesitates a moment, and then runs down three stairs to leap over the rail. He disappears from view, but he can still be heard, making his way down the stairs like that.

Peter examines Amy's leg a little.

"It's not gonna get better because you're staring at it," she says, "just relax."

He sits back, opposite from her.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

"Fine."

He glances around a little.

"I like this lighting," he says.

Amy smiles.

This is Similarly Emo

She gently lays her
Hand upon mine and softly
says, "Let's just be friends".

Mostly

Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking about how I'm a biological miracle.

It freaks me out a little.

Propagandist, Chapter Four

i miss my camera.

Romeo loved Juliet,
But neither one could long forget
To live alone is not much fun,
When two can die as cheap as one.

- Andy Warhol: "Love is a Pink Cake"

How many bassists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

None. The piano player can do it with his left hand.

I think most of you will sort of get this, but it's only the really intense jazz instrumentalists who will really get it.

I think.

Propagandist, Ch. 3

New layout for the story.

And this plot came to me last night as I was falling asleep. I think it's going to work.

Chapter Three

Propagandist, Ch. 2

I'm trying something new.

I figure that if I write in very short bits, my story will be of overall better quality. My only concern is that if it would be much easier to write myself into a corner.

I'm going to make a plot summary for myself. I think I'll have a better idea of what I can write that way.

Anyway, read the poem below this post, and then go check out The Propagandist, Ch. 2.

*EDIT* Bloggies are done: Check it out!

This Is Emo

The water makes that sound it makes.

My sister is the one that paddles.
I’m only five.

It starts to rain, and my mom tells us to come in.
We are on the sea, though.
Or at least on a pond that feels like it.
On the open ocean, we are free.

Little fish.
Big pond.

Even though the pond is tiny.

Sometimes it feels that way.
Like everyone in the world is against you,
playing something that wasn’t even a game to begin with.
Maybe it just is like this when you’re the loser.
Our boat was always a little slower than the rest.

And so here I’ll sit, in my
upper-middle class mansion,
complaining about how
the boat I was in when
I was five was too slow.
And it was only like that because
It was being rowed by a fourth grader.
I don’t mean to complain, you know?
I’m only saying this because it’s hard to
remember freedom like that when
it’s gone.

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The Propagandist

I lost my camera, so I'm starting to write a little more. I've worked on this for about a year on and off, and I can't seem to get past the first installment.

Don't forget about the bloggies!

The Propagandist.

It's the Bloggies!

It's the first-annual bloggie awards, and YOU, the reader, get to vote!

Vote Here!

Stairwell, Flights 105 -108

Calvin is taking the stairs two at a time.

You don't know where Amy and Peter are, and Calvin isn't telling you anything. You don't know how much time passed since Peter kept going. You don't really know what's going on.

Calvin reaches the top floor. He looks around a bit.

He turns around.

He goes down the stairs.

Model Photography

Because Tim's not the only one with Photoshop.

Instructions

"Lift Jesus Higher Ministries"

I didn't do this! I swear!

But seriously. There's a samaustin.org. He's an evangelist!

Words, Words, Words

These are crumpled pieces of paper.

I miss camp.

Marching Band 1

i think maybe i'm in a slump

probably because I don't have anything smart to say and I haven't taken a good picture in forever.

i'm a fermata

hold me.

Stairwell, Flights 1-10

Lobby.

In the yellow, incandescent light of the grimy stairwell, three friends stand at the bottom of the stairs, looking up through the crack in between each flight of stairs.

You are there too, but not in any meaningful way. You are only there to watch, to observe, to learn. You know nothing except for what you can see and hear.

One of them speaks. He is a boy of about sixteen, and he looks fairly well-off. He wears a striped polo shirt, collar down.

"Alright," he says, "we can do this. We just have to resist the urge to call the elevator. Is everyone alright with that?"

The girl next to him looks about his age. She smiles and nods.

The boy looks over at his third companion and repeats his question. "Calvin, is that okay with you?"

Calvin once again regards the flights of stairs above him by staring through the crack. He looks, expressionless, at the other boy. He nods.

"Alright," says the other boy, "let's do this".

There are seven stairs in between the first floor and the landing in between floors. The boy takes the first seven stairs two at a time, and comes to the landing between the first and second floor in a very short time. He swings himself around using the grimy green banister and continues up the next seven stairs.

Calvin follows him very quickly, keeping pace easily. The girl follows behind, taking the stairs as quickly as she can one at a time.

While Calvin catches up with the other boy by the third floor, the girl falls behind. The boy yells to her.

"Hurry up, Amy! Could you go any slower?"

Amy pouts and tries to quicken her pace. The boy starts up again, and though Calvin gives a little glance at the girl, he continues as well.

At the fifth floor, the boy has slowed down a little, but he continues. Calvin dutifully follows behind him, and Amy is now less than a flight behind them.

You, of course, have no trouble following any of them. You effortlessly zoom around the stairwell, but you have no desire to go higher than they are.

On the first flight of stairs in between the seventh and eighth floors, the boy trips on his shoelaces. He swears and sits down to tie them. He is looking a little red, and when Amy catches up to them she too is somewhat out of breath. Only Calvin looks like the climb has had little effect on him.

"This is going to be great for my calves," Amy says cheerfully as she stretches a little.

The boy gives a slight sneer as he stands back up. "We'll rest every ten flights, okay?"

Without waiting for confirmation, he begins climbing again, once more taking the stairs two at a time. Calvin ushers Amy in front of him and follows behind.

At the ninth floor the boy trips again. He swears loudly as his knee hits the edge of a stair.

Amy and Calvin are a flight below him and do not see the accident. Calvin passes Amy easily and runs up to the boy. Amy is a little too slow.

"Peter!" she yells, "Peter, are you alright?"

He winces as he stands up. "Yeah, I'm good".

He climbs the next flight a little slower, taking the stairs only one at a time. Calvin follows next to him. At the tenth floor he stops and sits down. Calvin stands awkwardly next to him, and when Amy arrives she sits opposite Peter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asks.

"I'm fine" he replies. He stands up and tests his leg. "It doesn't hurt at all".

He takes a swig from a bottle of water.

"Calvin," he asks, "how're you doing?"

Calvin nods.

"Alright," Peter says, "let's keep going".

He keeps going.

1: Beauty looking through an Airplane Window

2: Beauty through an Airplane Window

That's "la ventanilla".

6: Stoned

If you assumed that I only took this picture because of the name, you would be incredibly correct.

7: Trust (Backslash)

If you threw a violist and a soprano off a cliff, which one would hit the ground first?

Who cares?

11: The Oboe

It's just one of those things.

15: Cease-Fire

That's prophetic.

License Plate

A bit of artistic photography and artistic PhotoShopping.

Taken by Jedi_Raptor07. Edited by me.

EDIT: As Sam returns today, this is my last post on this blog. And I must say, it's been fun. But alas, all good things must come to an end. So bye, ya'lls!

(However, if you've enjoyed my [few] posts on this blog, you can still check out my blog here.)

Stuffs

Some stuffs from me, nerdjedi. As you know, Sam's in Tennessee, so I'm filling in for a bit. It's pretty cool, I think.

So, Sam asked me to post some photos. But I'm really bad it picture taking. So here's a pic from Ali. (Those are soda bottles by the way.)

Also, if any of you have photographs you want posted, send 'em to me. Danke.

And here's your host...

I love this picture.

Tim's posting for a few days, and I've given him permission to do whatever he wants with other people posting. Talk to him about it.

This is when you hit the "Pause" button on your remote.

No picture cause I'm in Delaware.

I wrote this sentence and it was so poetic I decided to share it with everyone. Someone needs to write it into a poem.

"We would both hide our feelings under layers and layers of humor until we were both smothered by the proverbial blankets."

And I need guest bloggers for when I'm in Knoxville. Anyone interested?

27: More Nature Crap

I had this great picture but it got deleted and I'm mad.

28: Jeff The Spoon

What's the difference between a soprano and a kidnapper?

You can negotiate with a kidnapper.

29: Which way is dn?

That's up upside-down.

And with that, Sam took an ax to his computer.

oh well.

30: Walk

Sam was, quite frankly, feeling uncreative. Instead of writing something creative, he decided to leave a prompt and let his readers make up something creative for him.

Unfortunately, it seemed his readers were feeling uncreative too.

Someone write a prompt for me. I'm tired.

31: <3

After the angry letter had been written, Paul clicked "send" immediately. "Oops!" he said as he realized he had sent it to his current boss instead of his friend Carl.

It was lucky he had signed his co-worker's name.

Not much to say, really. I like this picture. It's cute.

New prompt:

Sam was, quite frankly, feeling uncreative.

32: Untitled

No good entries. My thing was lame.

Someone called Mr. Joseph asking if I could be in a movie that they're filming!

Details were sketchy; I saw Mr. Joseph talking on the phone, and then while he walked the ten feet from his office to the piano lab he told me about it.

Anyway, new prompt:

After the angry letter had been written, Paul clicked "send" immediately.

33: Jetty

...

A grim silence fell over the crowd.

New prompt:

Sk8r123: could my sn b anymore STEREOTYPICAL?

34: Strangers in a Strange Land II

"Psh," he said, "This dude is seriously over-using the 'black and white' button on Picasa."

"So's your mom!" I said.

New prompt:

35: Strangers in a Strange Land

Dear Abby,
I have a problem. I'm too tired to write my problem out right now; I can't do it justice.

So... what should I do?

Jeff's was funny; I just couldn't round it off well.

Okay, new prompt:

"Psh," he said.

36: Cheap Shot

Everyone stared at the monstrous new billboard being erected. When it was finished, everyone stared as it slowly fell backwards and crushed the buildings behind it.

Somewhere, someone was laughing.

I hate this picture. Artistically, it's gross. But it's cool to look at.

New prompt:

Dear Abby,
I have a problem.

37: 37

"What's wrong with the second amendment?" I asked. "It lets me do this," the man replied, as he pulled out two automatic weapons.

My debate instructor always made a very good point.

New prompt:

Everyone stared at the monstrous new billboard being erected.

38: The Maple Leaf Rag

My sister entered my room, heavily armed. With her perfect aim, she shot both of my weapons out of my hand almost instantly.

"What is this," the audience asks, "a Disney Channel Original Movie?"

Bu-dum Chhhh.

If man has accomplished nothing else, he invented film. I love movies.

Okay: Today's prompt.

"What's wrong with the second amendment?" I asked.

39: Blue Skies

As the subway stopped, everyone on the train lurched forwards. Slamming into an escaped elephant tends to have that effect.

Six people took out their laptops and blogged the event.

Alright: new prompt.

My sister entered my room, heavily armed.

40: Earth Day

I was at the local baby-juggling Olympics when disaster struck. Ned, the baby watcher, accidentally opened the door to the where the babies were kept, and the babies then began to attack!

In the end, the police had to club them all.

What magazine do I read? Why, The Week, of course! This week is a special online "green" issue. I read it because it's a quick, easy way to stay informed. If you like this free issue, consider a subscription. It's well worth it.

Today's prompt:

As the subway stopped, everyone on the train lurched forwards.

Also: this is my 300th post.

41: Sleepless in Seattle

The elevator doors made that ominous banging noise usually reserved for the entrance to a haunted house as the entire office went pitch black. "She's trapped in there with him," whispered Catherine, and, suddenly, a shot rang out in the stillness of the dark room.

There was a bit of a delay in the sound of the body hitting the floor. I'd have to talk to the guy about that.

Okay, before the next prompt:

1. There is no comma after "because".
   
2. Via (preposition): By a route that touches or passes through; by way of (i.e. to fly to Japan via the North Pole). See? You weren't even close (also if you had said that, you would have used the word "via" instead of "i.e.")

I was at the local baby-juggling Olympics when disaster struck.

42: Crystals II

The knife sticking out of my leg was a testament to just how competitive Jack o' Lantern carving could be. It was my turn for revenge, though, and I wouldn't be nearly as forgiving.

In my head, I played the Jaws theme song.

Today's entries were a little better. One reminder, though. Entries are to be ONE SENTENCE!

Apparently, Ali didn't get the message.

Okay, the prompt:

The elevator doors made that ominous banging noise usually reserved for the entrance to a haunted house as the entire office went pitch black.

43: Watering Hole

Jamie noticed the flames before anything, and so it took his brain a second or two to also register the gasoline dripping from the back of his car. "They must have tampered with the gas tank too," he thought, as he sped toward the mountain of fire in front of him, his foot tied to the gas pedal.

He closed his eyes.

Alright that's that. A couple of other things.

First, with the exception of the one I chose, your entries sucked (no offense, of course)! None of you were even mildly creative ("he got out of the car and quickly walked away"?), except maybe Ali. Ali had the right idea, but she didn't give the reader any closure. By combining the idea that he was trapped and the idea that death was inevitable, I was able to finish the prompt.

It doesn't have to end happily, it just has to end! But it HAS to be creative and entertaining. If some of you guys were kidding with your lame endings (I mean the ones that weren't obviously kidding. Kelly, I know you're kidding), I'm sorry.

Also, entries have to be one sentence.

Today's prompt (I made it open-ended so you can tell me what's going on):

The knife sticking out of my leg was a testament to just how competitive Jack o' Lantern carving could be.

44: The Red Gel

This was fun to take.

Anyway, I've switched the contest. Now I give a sentence to tell the story, you tell me the resolution, and I give you the denouement. Each day we write a new story.

i.e. I say: "The parent having walked away, I jumped into the car and grabbed the keys so carelessly left on the seat." You say: "The kid reacted extraordinarily quickly: he grabbed the keys out of my hand and swallowed them." I write: "I swore."

The full text:

"The parent having walked away, I jumped into the car and grabbed the keys so carelessly left on the seat. The kid reacted extraordinarily quickly: he grabbed the keys out of my hand and swallowed them.

I swore."

You get the idea. Anyway, if you want to do the thing that I was doing before, do Tim's thing.

Your prompt for today:

Jamie noticed the flames before anything, and so it took his brain a second or two to also register the gasoline dripping from the back of his car.

45: Baltimore By Night

I like the picture, but I feel as if someone is going to stick it in a calendar.

It's kind of tourist-y.

Anyway, the saga continues:

(Note: I withhold the right to edit any sentence for stylistic purposes.)

Lisa wouldn't stop humming.

She had been humming for some time now, and, at this point, Jake was seriously contemplating driving his head through a cinderblock wall.

Now, Jake wasn't the kind of person to drive his own head through a wall, but he had had enough of this incessant humming.

46: Crystals

Okay, so that's done.

You guys failed miserably at the whole "thought process" thing, mainly because I could not convey to you the idea.

So I'm skipping to a classic: I write a sentence, you write a sentence, etc.

Alright, here we go.

Lisa wouldn't stop humming.

47: The Bowling Shoe

This picture: Mediocre.

Alright, so my experiment failed miserably. Apparently the only the only one who submitted a real idea was "7", but even he seemed a little confused.

We're going to try this one more time. The scene is in this format:

Scene #: Character

Thought process.

Scene # is the line number (this will be 1 for you). The Character is who is speaking.

The "thought process" is what the character was thinking as he said is line. For example:

If the thought process was "Please remove yourself from the door, as the building is on fire and I would dearly like to exit", the line could be "Get the @#%$ out of my way! Don't you see I'm on fire, you &%##?!?"

Understand? If not, we'll try something else tomorrow.

Okay. I'm giving you the character and his thought.

Introduction: Louis

Please consider my point of view.

48: Act One

I like this picture. It's really disorienting.

Okay, here's the deal. There are 48 school days left, and I want to celebrate! From now on after every school day I will post a picture and continue to count the days.

Furthermore, I want to write a story. This, however, is no ordinary story. It is no ordinary story because I don't have to write it. You do.

This is how it works. I prompt you with a very short introduction today, and you write a response. I pick my favorite, post another response tomorrow, then we continue like that.

The format is a little curious, but it's something I want to try. Each "scene" is a thought process that leads to speech, not actual speech. This means that the most educated character can have simplistic thought process or the most moronic character have a very complicated, wordy process. The line itself is up for interpretation.

Here's a sample.

Scene 8: The Grinch

Ah... oh dear. Cindy, please step away from the fireplace so that I may deposit this grenade into it.

Scene 9: Cindy

Santa Clause, I can't help but notice how your green fur grows in long, rope-like mats. It leads me to believe you are a fraud.

Scene 10: Professor

Gosh.

Get it? Good.

Alright. Here we go.

Introduction: The Benefactor

The decision is entirely up to you.

Jeff The Spoon

Shot, edited, produced in less than 24 hours. Two people were involved in the making of this movie.

If it doesn't work, refresh the page.

"F 8.0"

Ridiculously high aperture for this shot. I still can't believe how much is in focus.

Anyway, here's the deal:

My new movie, "Kommunication", will deal with a misconception adults have about how teens communicate. See, adults confuse efficient conversation with poor conversation.

Adults think kids communicate poorly with one another, as well as with them. Adults feel kids spend too little time talking to them, preferring instead to grunt out incomprehensible mumbles.

Kids realize nothing is gained from talking to adults, and if something is to be gained, then kids spend time talking to the adult (i.e. a teacher).

When talking to a person their own age, kids know that plenty can be gained. They also know, unconsciously, that the other kid feels the same way.

Kids talk very efficiently. While if an adult asked to borrow a pencil, the other adult might tell a witty anecdote about how they once got stuck in a pen convention with only a single pencil, a kid would simply give the other kid the pencil.

I'm tired and this sounds stupid. I'm going to make it into a movie and you'll get it then.

Bye.

"Chain Link"

I think I have problems with commitment.

"Shoe Lace"

I haven't written anything in a while.

"Up In"

This picture was fairly uncreative, so the only thing that would it better than others like it would be if it was in focus.

It's not.

"Clementine III"

"You're missing the point," she said. "What you're saying makes sense in theory, but not in practice. You're trying to compare apples and oranges."

"Why do you keep saying that?" he asked in response. "Apples and oranges aren't that different, really. I mean, they're both fruit. Their weight is extremely similar. They both contain acidic elements. They're both roughly spherical. They serve the exact same social purpose. With the possible exception of a tangerine, I can't think of anything more similar to an orange than an apple. If I was having lunch with a man who was eating an apple and-while I was looking away-he replaced that apple with an orange, I doubt I'd even notice. So how is this a metaphor for difference? I could understand if you said, 'That's like comparing apples and uranium,' or 'That's like comparing apples with baby wolverines,' or 'That's like comparing apples with the early work of Raymond Carver,' or 'That's like comparing apples with hermaphroditic ground sloths.' Those would all be valid examples of profound disparity. But not apples and oranges. In every meaningful way, they're virtually identical."

"You're missing the point," she said again, this time for different reasons.

--Chuck Klosterman, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto.

"tagendtag"

I like this photo a lot. There were a lot of things I tried, but in the end I just went with the picture straight off the camera. Enjoy.

"All Natural"

It's been a while, hasn't it?

You said it, Paul.

"A Spoon Under Your Pillow"

“How the Grinch Failed Miserably at Stealing Christmas”

Every Who
Down in Who-ville
Liked Christmas a lot...

But the Grinch,
Who lived just North of Who-ville,
Did NOT!

Max was quite a sight to see that night. He was all dressed up, a little pair of antlers strapped to his head and a bright red ball on the tip of his nose. The dog probably would have been the cutest thing if it had not been for his owner.

The owner was quite a sight to see as well, but those who saw him were hardly enviable. His Santa Clause suit was two sizes too small, and the hat, somehow, was two sizes too large. His furry green body reeked, not having known the cleansing rinse of a shower for months.

The Grinch’s sleigh creaked quietly down the Who-Ville Street, pulled by his poor dog Max. He regarded the nearest house.

"This is stop number one," he said to Max.

His dog did not reply.

It never did.

The Grinch hopped nimbly off of his sleigh, and grabbed a rope. Carefully, he threw one end of it on top of the roof, around the chimney, and then back down. Bracing himself against the wall, he climbed up to the roof of the house. He proceeded to toss his bag down the chimney and jump down after it.

Cindy Lou-Who had been up to get a drink of water when the thump of the Grinch hitting the bottom of the chimney caused her to go investigate. She wandered over to see him actively dragging her Christmas tree through the living room.

"Santy Clause," she called, "why are you taking our Christmas Tree. Why?"

The Grinch was quick on his feet. "There is a short in the lights. I’m taking it back to my shop to fix it."

"Oh," said Cindy, "well, I’m sure we can fix it here. We have extra lights. I’ll go grab them."
As she ran off, the Grinch decided on a simple plan of action: with all the lights in a tree, there must be a short somewhere. He would fix it, send the little Who off to bed, and come back for this house later.

Cindy knew something was up, and as she quickly gathered the lights, she came up with her own plan.

When she returned, the Grinch was already combing over the lengths of lights, looking for a short. Cindy went over to the couch and sat down, watching him peacefully.

"Aha!" cried the Grinch, triumphant, "I found it!" He began unscrewing the light.

Immediately, Cindy was at his side. "Stop!" she yelled, "if you don’t unplug the lights, you’ll hurt yourself! Haven't you ever heard the ancient Who poem?"

The Grinch groaned as Cindy began reciting.

"To dive into battle without a thought
Is surely a foolish crime,
For a lord that gives battle at will, you see,
Will lose this fight in a short time.

The lord who considers a crucial act,
Will surely win the war,
His opponent, who attacked without a thought,
Will wish he had learned to before."

With that, Cindy unplugged the lights, and the Grinch replaced the bulb. "Alright," said the Grinch, "you’re all set."

"But wait," cried Cindy, "the lights don’t work anymore". She pretended that she was plugging them in, but she was actually plugging in an old power strip that had long stopped working. The Grinch, however, did not notice. He grumbled and went back to work on the light. He took out the bulb and inspected it.

Cindy walked over. "Oh," she said, "I see the problem. There’s a piece of dirt in the base. Could you wipe it off?"

The Grinch stuck his finger into the Christmas light base, trying to get the piece of dirt out. Meanwhile, Cindy went back over to the wall, plugging the lights in.

Needless to say, the Grinch was shocked.

"Inside of a Colander"

The full title for this piece is actually "My Life on the Inside of a Colander (New Widescreen Edition)", but I decided that I'd shorten it for the sake of my "Recent Posts" list.

I think I'm going to do something where I write a short story and then turn it into a screenplay. Let me know what you guys think.

I have also officially abandoned "Malachi: A Memoir"; today is the two-month anniversary of its most recent post.

The Writer

I don't know what's up with the embedding; it's oddly shaped, but you can still see it. And I know the quality is bad, but whatever.

"Broken Club"

I would like to address a few comments.

The goals of my essays had nothing to do with the destruction of VOA. "Ideas Are Bulletproof" was meant to be a study in essay writing. I chose the topic because I wanted to answer some serious ethical questions about anonymity that I had, and I hoped, at the time, that they would tie up some loose ends for you guys too.

I am disappointed that no one choose to comment on the actual content of my essay, but rather chose to personally attack me on the topic I chose to close with. In my last essay I questioned the impact of anonymous commenting, and was perturbed to see that no one had even brought up the subject in their comments.

"IceKube"

My latest essay: "A Greater Impact".

"Ante Up"

I'm not a huge fan of the picture, but I like the shadows.

Anyway, check The Christmas Heist. I think it's my favorite of the things I've written. Hopefully I can make it a full-length movie instead of my other shorter screenplays.

"Carnation Films"

Introducing Carnation Films, my production company.

Also, check Ideas Are Bulletproof.

"Check"

I like the coloring the best, I think.

Anyway, I'm working on a new essay for you, as well as trying to map out the plot for "The Christmas Heist". So... basically there's nothing new.

"Suspend"

Welcome to the new blogger!

Also, enjoy my latest Christmas screenplay: The Christmas Heist.