The Zahir was an idea conceived by Jorge Luis Borges... an object, image, sensation, or idea that, once encountered, engenders helpless obsession in the subject.  At first, the subject thinks of the Zahir frequently, then constantly, and finally can think of nothing else.  The idea consumes the mind, and memory is annihilated; nothing remains but an idiot consciousness, contemplating the Zahir.

As you browse the internet, you encounter images.  Ideas.  As the contents of the internet grow exponentially larger, the chance that it contains your Zahir approaches certainty.

You're probably safest if you just stick to porn.

If you're new here, which is likely, you're probably here to read the story I worked on with Jo.  That's The Soldier and the Witch, available to your left.  Worry not; though the story is ongoing the denouement is immanent.  Jo wants a happy ending, while I enjoy making small children cry.  We'll see how it goes.

Of the rest, I recommend Barstow Station, a yarn both hum'rous* and morally instructive.**






*To the Deranged
**Filthy Lies

I've decided to store some of the things I write in a central location on the Internets, rather than leave them scattered here and there among my email accounts and the various nooks and crannies of my hard drive these things tend to collect in.  This should enable me to access my meanderings, hallucinatory revelations, and shaggy dog stories should my beloved Lappy fall to the forces of entropy and decay.

This of course means I have to read over each narrative nugget I find, often for the first time, to decide whether it warrants storage.  Much cringing and editing ensues.  I'm gonna be at this a while.  'S alright; if there's one thing I don't mind doing for hours it's getting lost in my own head.

There are actually two things I don't mind doing for hours, but I'm without a ladyfriend at the moment and it's not half so entertaining alone.