tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78182982023-09-19T10:27:40.653-04:00Blogs are cool. So are stories. I ask then, my fellow netizens, what could be cooler than a story blog? Wait, I'm not done. We're goin' open-source. <br><br> 1 week. 1 story installment. Contributed by anyone. As long as it logically follows the previous post.<br><br>THIS IS FICTION INFINITY<br><br>Want to Contribute? It's easy. Just email ian_coma@yahoo.com, and you will be invited to post on the blog. That's it. <br><br>Shape the story while it's young!Ian Comahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1158169293108617982006-09-13T13:39:00.000-04:002006-09-13T13:41:33.116-04:00

Someone a few years ago wrote this article I dug up, about how you would tell people 10,000 years from now to keep away from radioactive waste:http://www.wired.com/news/culture/0,71724-0.html?tw=rss.indexI wonder what warnings from 10,000 years ago we've already missed. Maybe all of this could have been avoided.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1154534948951571522006-08-02T12:03:00.000-04:002006-10-25T11:20:06.846-04:00

"You know how there's this theory that if we make one decision over another, eating a burger instead of a hot dog, let's say, the hot dog -- the choice you didn't make, the act of eating the hot dog, gets lived out somehwere?""I think you and I are being lived out somewhere..............""That's gross."I felt bad for saying that.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1142637062018783812006-03-17T18:08:00.000-05:002006-03-17T18:11:02.026-05:00

He tried his best not to crack his head open. It didn't work out. Blood made its way down the concrete wall of his self storage cube. Pretty soon it was everywhere...on his old files, paintings. It seeped into old computer keyboards he refused to throw away. But it didn't hurt. In fact, it felt better. Something had been released.

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1130905881984418472005-11-01T23:30:00.000-05:002005-11-01T23:31:21.993-05:00

How do I raise my kids in the face of humankind's possible extinction?

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1130804529538568812005-10-31T19:20:00.000-05:002005-10-31T19:22:09.550-05:00

I reckon I just have too feckin' high standards. That, more than anythin' else, has pretty well ruined everything.

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1129554188180217612005-10-17T08:56:00.000-04:002005-10-17T19:30:57.476-04:00

My father took pleasure from the smallest things. Finding $20. A well made italian sausage. He loved the ordinary.Today the word "ordinary" does not apply to anything. We mourn an age when it did.

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1129224523771163472005-10-13T13:26:00.000-04:002006-03-05T18:44:54.163-05:00

What a sty. Sometimes I wish people weren't so predictable. It would so energize me if the guy who locked me in the trunk of a car was, unexpectedly, a neat freak. No such luck.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1128551737820349032005-10-05T18:28:00.000-04:002005-10-05T18:35:37.826-04:00

Only a fool would follow the man who locked him up in the boot of an audi and left him for dead. Having gotten him into the trunk, the captor would surely have proven himself to be of superior strength. Not the kind of bloke you want to meet up with twice in your life. That's why I'm quite sure the poor sap ringing my buzzer right now is definitely NOT the same daft cunt who made a stink about

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1128438635653478942005-10-04T11:04:00.000-04:002005-10-04T11:10:35.656-04:00

You can go weeks, months in a state of non-happening, despair, never-trieds and always-offs. And then you get an idea. A simple one. An average one, but a new one. A new one. And then you're ready.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1127857241737764352005-09-27T17:34:00.000-04:002005-10-03T20:42:55.666-04:00

I sit in one place. All day. It's not good for me. And it sure as hell didn't prepare me for being stuck in a trunk for a couple of days. The kink in my back still hasn't gone away. It just goes on throbbing, like something is gnawing its way out. I suppose in there is about the only place worse than out here. This kink, it's the kind of twist you want to use a knife on. A tangled knot you just

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1127775301122112992005-09-26T18:33:00.000-04:002005-09-26T19:19:01.413-04:00

This is most troubling. I'm wide awake. Everything is moving. I am standing still. Nothing is as I imagined. In fact, I imagined nothing. A hard stop. No other realm to speak of, only a fade to sub-atomic black. It can't be. But if I am not still alive, what am I?

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1127508408470486892005-09-23T16:43:00.000-04:002005-09-23T16:47:17.886-04:00

On the way back to the car park, a couple of degenerates pulled a dirty pneumatic and got some currency out of me.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1125423352574542182005-08-30T01:24:00.000-04:002005-08-30T13:35:52.583-04:00

There was something I never told Aldo. Well, okay, there were a lot of things I never told him, but he may have needed to know this one.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1125320553314516692005-08-29T08:47:00.000-04:002005-08-29T09:02:33.323-04:00

'Ok Computer' is all I can think about. It blasts through my head as if I'm back in Leith pumping it through an i-pod car speaker rig. "For a minute there...I lost myself." For the longest time I thought he was saying, "For America...I lost myself." It's irrelevant now. I've lost myself for a lot longer than a minute. And America has nothing to do with it. Now, on to the good Doctor. He didn't

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1119822152759320902005-06-26T17:26:00.000-04:002005-08-29T18:55:46.573-04:00

This pakistani client I once did a re-build for said the strangest thing to me -- that I might be one of the 36. I had no idea what he was talking about. He explained that many religions, including Judaism and Christianity, had deep within their texts buried the idea that there are 36 righteous souls of every generation that keep the world from destroying itself. "I see something within you.

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1113402841709718422005-04-13T10:30:00.000-04:002005-04-13T18:14:00.163-04:00

When you're on a job like this, of the "physical" variety, ye gotta make certain that you get paid as soon as it's done. Never mind when some arbitrary pickup was arranged. Best to make sure the customer doesn't get spooked and pretend none of it ever happened. I haven't threatened to kill anyone in a while, so this should be fun.

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1113356077657140172005-04-12T21:32:00.000-04:002005-04-12T21:35:41.803-04:00

We've stopped moving. Thank god. Motion sickness is another side effect of my neural graft. I'm locked in the trunk of a car, inhaling three rounds of puke. What an embarrassing way to go out.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1113332215112799772005-04-12T14:37:00.000-04:002005-04-12T15:03:17.183-04:00

It's remarkable how much recovery times have contracted in only the last ten years. I suppose it all started with the professional athletes. Whole industries were built around them. Of course, no one watches sports anymore. But the chemical enhancers remain. Forty-eight hours for an eye transplant. A week for a neural graft. Three hours for a recall burn. Rodney, my young intern; he's never known

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1113189964391014192005-04-10T22:45:00.000-04:002005-04-12T13:08:40.826-04:00

I'm not sure when it was. Time just sort of seeps into itself in this business. Or maybe it's just my time. My "business." But I do remember what I concluded the last time I had a spare moment to be honest with myself: I'm pretty bad at this. I'm an idea person; I'll give myself that. But a runner executes. Flawlessly. I'm careless. I can't be bothered with the details. Sometimes I find my hand

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1112837856270844242005-04-06T21:25:00.000-04:002005-04-06T22:29:00.496-04:00

I reckon ye can live in a trunk for about 24 hours before you start havin' respiratory issues. Mind you, I've not read a thing about it, but once, when I was a lad, my brother's friends locked me up in the boot of a Honda Civic Hybrid, and, well, they kind of forgot about me. I just went to sleep, and didn't start feelin sick until dinner time. So multiply whatever time that was by a nice round

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1104699930494420592005-01-02T16:03:00.000-05:002005-01-02T16:05:30.493-05:00

The blood vessels in my head almost popped when I finally got the suitcase shut. Afterwards, I felt light headed, and may even have seen some stars. Not the stars that brighten your dark visions…just the ones that make little shiny blurs in an otherwise normal field of vision – a little like the ripples you see in the air on a blistering day, but much more like the pixelation of an imperfect

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1097013545118429532004-10-05T17:56:00.000-04:002004-10-05T18:00:19.656-04:00

The last thing I remember doing is making my coffee. Then I was out. I know I'm tied up. I know I'm in a box or trunk of some kind. I know I'm moving. But I have no idea where the hell I am.

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1095987814920687752004-09-23T20:49:00.000-04:002004-09-23T21:03:34.920-04:00

It's not that there are no diseases left to cure. It's just that most of the incurable disease have become quite manageable...a chronic inconvenience, requiring daily maintenance. We are, more than ever, technicians -- practitioners of standardized practices, backed up by 30 years of pharmacoeconomic data. If someone falls through the cracks, there's always an explanation. Somewhere someone

Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1094665919632690552004-09-08T13:46:00.000-04:002004-09-11T01:02:56.496-04:00

They all thought this would be simple. Wet streets. Foul smells. The end of the subway line. Dark skin carressing plump thighs. They had a way out. They had the thing that made none of it matter. Go back in time. Change the future. The past. One life or a million, it didn't matter. All that power. The best they could come up with was money. I do not know if fate is always deserved. I know they

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818298.post-1094066303904291052004-09-01T14:42:00.000-04:002004-09-01T15:23:27.096-04:00

I just pulsed four derms, so I'm a little loopy. You're not supposed to take more than two per day. I bet the people who recommended that dosage never had 5,000 meters of nano-optics running through their brains. Besides, I'm just waking up from my first night of sleep in six days. I needed a derm just to get out of bed. I make some coffee. I don't know why. The stuff never does anything for me

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03206819524844410754noreply@blogger.com0