I'm trying very hard to continue posting, but I'm in the middle of alcoholism / finding a place to stay.

To all of my readers, whomever you might be. I'm sorry. I never intended this to be so difficult.

I'm in a really weird place right now. And I can't even promise that it'll get better. Suffice to say, homeless. No worries though, I still have a job.

And once again, this one comes courtesy to you of two Four Lokos and a variety of Seagram's randomly flavored girlie drinks (even if they're not really girlie, shut up, we're not going to get into that argument; drink whatever you want).

Today (or tonight, I don't really know right now) I'd like to talk about this video:

Oancitizen Trains Luke in the Ways of the Plot

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Sometimes it feels like there's a motor inside of us, an engine that'll throttle up or down depending on how we're feeling. As the pistons slow, we feel like getting them to speed back up and rev into the next gear will take longer and longer, requiring stretches of straight road ahead that we just can't see. The miles pass us by, the gas tank gets closer to empty, and that feeling continues to build. Sure, we can always hit the nearest gas station for fuel, but there's also some strange

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I've had some PMs lately that really piqued my interest.

Specifically, whether or not I'm really fucked-up when I'm writing this.

I find this disconcerting. Not because my writing methods (or utter lack thereof) are being questioned, but that, while the premise of my creation of this series is based on strange experiences I've had while in various forms of intoxication, that there's some need to defend my insobriety.

Should I be proud of that?

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For really reals, I'm working on getting the next chapter of Psychedelica - Pastel Ponies out within the week, I just need to get my new job and psyche evaluations all in order before my schedule ends up even more of a clusterfuck than it already is. The OpenOffice document is staring at me right now and is mostly done, with the major exception of the editing process to ensure that I didn't just smack the keyboard with a rolling pin until enough words showed up. Look forward to the

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So, I just watched Linkara's review of "The Electric Tale of Pikachu" and goddammit, he beat me to the punch a long-ass time ago it seems.

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We know them. We miss them.

They might be gone, but they're still there. Never stop remembering them. Never forget.

Though they may be gone, they can never die so long as we hold fast their memories and never let go.

All the Sunshine Richardsons, all of the Emmerich Kelleches, they're still here, whether we know it or not.

Yes, today I'm being a bummer, but still...

Don't forget. Those that we've lost will always remain in our hearts.

I'm sorry, Sunny. You deserved better.

Yeah, like the title said, thank you.

This one goes out to everyone reading Psychedelica - Pastel Ponies specifically.

Let's be honest, it's my favorite story to write. I basically form it as a list of odd conversations framed around even odder events.

Consider it my torture for Jeremy. It's the best torture for him without being outright mean.

I just...

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From the bottom of my heart, thank you. To everyone who has read my works, thank you. All I want to do a vast majority of the time is write. I have bills to pay with things like roofing and doing plumbing, and still I write. Every time I have spare time, I write. It's my passion. It's my love. I still don't think I'm good at it, but dammit if it's not what I want to do from now until time comes to a stop.

And yeah, I'm drunk.

But still, the thanks are no less sincere.

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Short blog entry today, yo.

I'm just wondering how best to convey a fragile mind through narrative exposition. People tend to think schizophrenia works only in the extremes, which isn't really the case, but I'm struggling to think how best I can portray a high-functioning schizophrenic pony (most likely from a first-person perspective, mind you).

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