One of the seminal reasons I opened this sporadic blog in the first place was for a venue to air my writing-- some of it going back to high school, twenty years ago-- that was mouldering on my hard drive without a chance to be read by readers. The story The Wolf's Cry was one… Continue reading The Wolf’s Cry: Author’s Notes on an Unfinished Tale
In which the manosphere and GQ are both wrong.
There are two heathen altars in American cities on which ordinary citizens sacrifice their children on a regular basis, and it's unclear which has done the most evil, overall. I'll let others decide which is Molech and which, Chemosh, but the first, most obvious idolatry takes the form of Planned Parenthood's so-called "clinics" and other… Continue reading On Sacrificing Children to Educational Abstractions
Joseph Moore examines how we came to be Bricks in the Wall.
Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry
Donald comes down the hill wild and angry;
Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly
Here's to the king and Donald Macgillavry!
"One of the most important things that an author should know in order to write good and even great stories, readers and future writers, is that evil in fact exists."
It isn't politically correct, but if true, these proposals will be validated for all male and female human characters, respectively, and resonate with the disproportionately human Reading Public.
H/T to Cane Caldo.
Re-posted from the inimitable Sarah A. Hoyt: During the weekend, while doing my normal weekly cleaning (usually a running affair lasting 4 hours and starting at around 9 am, involving dusting, vacuuming and making wet-areas (kitchen and bathrooms) sanitary, yes a little easier now that I’ve been keeping things more … organized) I listened to… Continue reading Teach a Child — According To Hoyt
G. Scott Huggins on writing "real" religion in imaginary worlds.
And by “we” I mean writers and parents and teachers, and anyone who is supposed to give them an idea of how the world works. By “children” I mean those of us who were children in the last 50, maybe the last 70 years, and although the problem is most prevalent in America, it has […]… Continue reading We’re Failing Our Children: repost from Sarah Hoyt’s blog.
Jonas had never been so far up in all his life. The sidewalks he was used to had no railings because it was only twenty centimetres to the street, not hectametres. He walked more carefully, one hand against the reassuring wall. The air was clearer up here, and the early morning light was almost blue after thousands of yellow and grey-green mornings below. He looked again at the address as a tungsten-yellow Phœnix Valkyrie roared past, freely sharing bullets with the DPD at close range. Jonas pulled his coat around himself, thanked the OneTrueGod for a day out of the factory, and prayed for Clara's safety.
Kriever didn’t like public trans, and insisted on driving his old Sting Ray everywhere. He glanced over to the passenger seat, where she sat with his coat still over her shoulders.
“Which way, doll?” he asked. The rain had eased up, for now...
“I didn't like the way you treated Sam just now,” she said when he reached her table.
“Sam was begging for it.” She was wearing something much too short, but Kriever was too busy to be impressed. “Put on a coat and take me uptown, doll,” he said.
The asthmatic death rattle of the air-scrubber was a comfortable sound, a beacon home in the crushing waves of the street. It had guided him home every night now for eight years to the same drafty building and the same putrid stairs, and the same motherless little girl at the top who made it all worthwhile. Clara was eleven and all that came with it. Her father would give his life to save hers.