local void in the nearby universe

@thiefofvoices.bsky.social

a sustained heartache and a dark fever L Savich. SFFH author, Mpls lurker, concert cryptid, industrial wasteland fiend, recorder of liminal spaces. Saves all his proofreading for manuscripts. www.mortalmachine.net (currently on hiatus)

By the way, you’re not frightened enough of prion diseases, not by half. Did you know that Chronic Wasting Disease can be taken up by plants where an infected deer died, travel up into leafy tissues, and infect new deer? Or any other herbivorous mammal? www.cell.com/iscience/ful...

Plants as vectors for environmental prion transmission

Ecology; Biological sciences; Microbiology; Plant biology; Interaction of plants with organisms

cell.com

GIVE ME A PAPER MENU PUT YOUR STORE HOURS ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE DOOR PUT THE MOVIE SHOWTIMES ON THE MARQUEE LET ME PAY IN CASH LET ME ORDER FROM A HUMAN INSTEAD OF A TOUCHSCREEN GIVE ME A LOYALTY STAMPCARD THAT'S AN ACTUAL CARD AND NOT AN APP

I had the thought a week or so ago that maybe it was good that I've been doing so much drafting and storynoodling longhand in notebooks in case anyone ever calls into question whether I use AI in my writing. Unfortch now I'm v conscious of whenever I shorthand something like "insert segue here". :/

'You'll choke too' - an aerial embroidery landscape inspired by all the wildfires happening right now... I'm upset every time I smell smoke outside and somehow we have people starting them maliciously too! But we all breathe the same air so they'll choke too (1/2 - see thread for close-ups)

An embroidery hoop containing a sewn landscape from above. It shows a forest on the right, a line of fire and charred ground with smoke on the left. The smoke is felted wool.

We drive darkening, ghosted roads. In these last minutes of solar alchemy, every turn is towards folklore. We become one with the land's long memory. One with a hodology where every traveller is another time's temporal shade. We become high strangeness. – #DAKilroy, 1982

Bild

there's a dog in my neighborhood that sounds like some very upset person screaming nonsense during an argument when it barks, which it does relatively often. I keep stopping to make sure it isn't some domestic violence or a hurt child or something, and every time it trails off into dog noises.

welp, my TV is dying. which means I now have to begin a possibly-fruitless hunt for a television that just fucking works out of the box and doesn't *require* an internet connection to function. I know I can't fully avoid smart TVs in this day & age but like. I don't stream things.

“honorplace?” says the irradiated mushroom, “honor_place this honor now give honor give us,” Mycelial geist, newly sentient under the haze of green dust; I tap a refusal into the communication pins. “good place honorplace NOW honor come comecome professor underground

it probably says something that as the summer has worn on and my job has worn me down, the gremlins are no longer content to chill nearby/on my lap while I work, but get between me and the screens/demand active pets more often now. :/ Babies, I don't want to be doing this either, but we gotta eat.

folks, I have finally managed to turn the headlights on for book two. yes, nearly 8mos into the year. but I have an extremely rough outline of these first part of the first section, and more importantly, *I know what I'm aiming all the plot threads toward*; I know the climax of s1 for all of them.

Step into the exoskeleton. It will not make you stronger, or smarter, or more beautiful—but it will gild your existing strength, intelligence, amd beauty. It is a maximizing frame, mechanical flattery