Here I sit in a library next door to the school from which I am taking my lunch break. My current readin' book sits next to the keyboard so I can find my place while the next screen loads. Only to promptly lose it at that moment.
I am at work on a number of things.
I know what book I want to write yet, but it's a tricksy one, and one I'm loathe to attack without a contract.
I have been designing a handful of new shirts for the Thtore (see sidebar) (announcement coming later this week).
I am working on various web-based art that will delight the masses or kill them for resisting.
Yeah, so I am totally being creative and crap.
But that's not what the title of this post was referring to.
My goodness! but I can be an obscure bastard.
I certainly feel guilty about it, for though I may be the world's only Baizzerist, I am still antiartsyfartsy. It's a terrible existential dilemma to find onself in, but whachagonnado?
In my case, type:
asdjkasfdjkasbjtrugkb vkjibukrilu8w48vrkbbjkasv uhec
Which is lovely.
I am theric.
More sensible content coming soon. Perhaps as early as today.
Don't hold your breath enless you have some of that sweet liquid air. That stuff is awesome.