From Hell’s Heart I Stab At This Blog


Haven’t updated this in a while, partly because I’ve been doing what will hopefully someday become paid writing, if I can get an editor liquored up enough to buy it, but also because the fans in my video card decided to go all crakhed and burn themselves out – which, since the entire point of shilling out over a grand for this machine was to be able to play video games, was, to say the least, suboptimal.

I was researching new video cards, and occasionally ogling the new gaming machines on Dell (the only outfit shady enough to give me credit) when I realized: dropping half a thousand dollars every two years on new gaming stuff was exactly why I got out of gaming, way back in the days of the console wars.  (Which were shortly after the Punic Wars, for you youngsters in the audience.)  Not only that, but ever since I got the new machine, my old one, which up to that point had worked perfectly, threw some sort of computer snit and now runs about as fast and efficiently as a brick.  And not Brick for Windows, either; I mean, like, Brick 1.0.  Brick Vista.  iBrick.  (Rim shot.)

I started getting migraines, and after the third day I woke up strangling my Bill Gates Realdoll, I decided to take a break from technology and drive out to the coast and eat donuts (seriously, they have some really good donuts in Arcata) and I almost didn’t come back.  After a pub crawl with an old buddy, I have to tell you, I was strongly tempted to just wander out on the dunes, strip naked, and live out my days grazing placidly on the seagrass.  But I didn’t, because I hate seaweed.

So I’m back, and I also have a sweet new desk, which is inspiring me to get back to writing, and I have some ideas that work best as blog posts, plus someday if I’m famous, this will be where I pontificate wildly about random conspiracy theories.

Desk.jpg
This is how writers pimp they cribs.  Did I say that right?

But at least until I can get a new graphics card, I’ll be blogging less about video games and more about writing and whatever other randomness crosses my cerebral cortex.

Next up: postmodernism, the Death of the Author, and kitchen remodeling, as applied to Steven Brust’s Vallista.

 

 

 

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