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Pushing into the late evening of this Tuesday night past, the Internet suddenly got a little more stupid. Discouraged by some comments left on a website about his 2010 book purge, Harlan Ellison finally thumbed his nose at the ‘Net and switched off the pops and hisses of his antediluvian dial-up modem for the last time. He’s done with it, with you and with us. He bought the ticket, took the ride and hopped out of the spinning...
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It’s Tuesday, which means Coquetting Tarradiddles is back to its regular posting schedule. I apologize for all the confusion while I got my feet wet with my first experiment in the serialization of my novel, Snowflakes In Autumn, but things should go smoother from here on in. I’m wrestling a bit with the Donate / Contribute / Whatever button right now as I try and persuade the demons chained to the walls of the PayPal basement...
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Surprise! I’m posting Chapter Four of Snowflakes In Autumn today, ahead of schedule and in its entirety. I’m not doing this to screw with you in some bizarre and cruel eternal modification of the schedule, but because I’m in a rather gloomy place right now and I don’t trust myself to not write anything I won’t regret later. Brittany and I are, once again, experiencing difficulties with Trey’s dad. Since...
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Today I conclude the third chapter of Snowflakes In Autumn. Tomorrow, I’ll post the essay I’d originally scheduled for Wednesday but had to postpone due to wanting every minute I could get with Trey before he left for his dad’s summer visitation. It was important to squeeze in every second we could with our little guy before he left home, for unfortunate reasons I’ll elaborate on in Friday’s essay. As for...
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Kristian Bland
Writer
Occasional Geek
I'm a former Webmaster turned Journalist turned Systems Administrator. I once thought I could recreate Spider-Man's web fluid, but only ended up staining the driveway of my friend's parents when some of it spilled out and went runny. Eventually, I became a caustic tech geek, which I'm pretty sure inspired the character of Dr. Gregory House, although the bastards never credited me. Later in life, I'd go on to have a horrific experience in publishing that I don't talk about, except to talk about how I don't talk about it. Later still, I became a web editor and columnist for a Hearst newspaper, where I excelled at being Me until my entire department was unceremoniously laid off. After that, I spent about six months being pretty busy not being busy. It sucked. Then, after missing the light of my radiant glory casting its warmth upon the newsroom for long enough, the paper called me up and asked me back. So I went back. And then I left again. And here we are.
