Mass destruction lies in my wake

Hello club-ear, my old friend.

It's so much nicer seeing Combichrist when I'm not coming off painkillers with holes in my jaw.

But we all know how much ass Combichrist kicks, so instead let me take a moment to sing the praises of Ayria. They are awesome live, and Jennifer Parkin is even more gorgeous in person. I hope they don't carry the Manson curse--I couldn't see them with the Cruxshadows, and last night we were 20 minutes late due to I-35 being governed by chaos and ass-clowns. (I had tix to Manson and Slayer. Instead I have to go to Colo-fucking-rado for a family gettogether that weekend. :P ) Walking in half-way through my second favorite song (Horrible Dream) was annoying, but they closed with my favorite-favorite (My Revenge on the World), so all was well. And did I mention that Jennifer Parkin is hot?

Next up on the concert roster, Patti Smith. What is this cognitive dissonance of which you speak?

As we move towards no end we learn to die

Nine chapters revised so far, out of an estimated 21. About three scenes rewritten today--I'm getting the hang of the pov switches, even if it still gives me hives from time to time. Now I need to slow down and figure out where the new povs are going in.

My ears, they ring.

When story eels attack!

The old story beginning I found grew a new monster tonight. Now it has a ghost, a lamia in a miniskirt, Objeckt 775, and a mostly-queer punk band called Fairies Wear Boots. All it needs now is a point, and something thematic to play with. Since it got rid of the vampire and the blues singer, I may let it continue to be in set in New Orleans. It shall henceforth be called "Serpentskirt", unless something better comes along.

The lamia should hook up with the Strix--they could eat mice together and paint their nails and talk about boys. Or eat boys and talk about mice.

What the heck did I do to my toe last night, anyway?