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ACEN 2007 is now over, and, like a filthy abandoned hovel teetering menacingly over an orphanage, dripping loose planks bearing tetanus-encrusted nails, its parched flammable timber threatens the dreams and lives of innocent whelps by merely existing. Were ACEN only that terrible, a punished but breathing sliver of hope–of walking again, or regaining vision from sundered and scorched eyes–would ripple through the legions of anime fans which attended. But, alas…

I am legion.

I am the one that is forgot, the one in the road that you know not. The man that will affect your life, though the impact is hidden through time and tithe. You’ll move on, just as you must, and the veils will fall again to dust. That is the mythology, that is the timing; that is the truth. The faces fade, the voices mesh into the cacophony, and in that wild din, inseparable from legion, I am.

Well, I’ve finally gone and joined Technorati, only about three years too late. Of course, we’ll see if it does anything other than prove just how unpopular I really am. ;)

Until Tomorrow

And so, the die is cast. For Chapter seven of Rabbit Rue has begun. Don’t bother clicking the previous link, that chapter doesn’t exist until May 11th, while today is April still.

I just pounded out five pages while drinking Whisky and watching episodes of Firefly I acquired from Target. I couldn’t help it, and I somehow wish I could stop, stop observing, eliminate my endlessly infinite capacity for over-analysis, and simply describe my story. But I can’t, and seriously, I hope nobody would ask such a thing. I’d cease, if I could. But I’m now caught inextricably within a web beyond comprehension, a world both wrought by my fevered mind, and beyond any precedence I could generate.

Rabbit Rue is coming along nicely. I just finished chapter 6, which should conclude around May 9th according to the release schedule.

It’s a sad and lonely thing I do here, writing of folly and disdain, loss and grief. I walk the fine line of melodrama, trying not to plunge my characters into laughably trite situations past or present, to keep them believable and alive. Even if I succeed, I fail, for no fiction truly transcends the humanity of real existence, though some say truth is stranger than fiction.