teardrop
Now the full extent of my carelessness and conceit was made apparent as Lil Mountain and I fell to the floor–my deer tail and lizard teeth necklace rattling like an exquisitely worded curse.
capitulation
It was such a Babies thing to do–watching movies in the forest in the winter. WTF. Could they see me up here? Would they be able to help? But then I reminded myself I was here to help them. Save them even.
1001
Hi, It's OA. As I write this Swim and Bruce are planning to take me out. Or more precisely they are planning to make such a plan and, in the meantime, constructing elaborate defensive maneuvers; meditative shields for the mind missiles they believe I’ll send.
missing
“You’ve been missing for days,” Lil Mountain said when he opened the door and saw me there.
“Nah, dude I’ve been right under your sniffly red nose the whole time.”
white shirts
Jesse James (who now goes by the name Lil Mountain) showed up on my windowsill, skinny and inspired and wearing an ET mask as he busted the whole scope of the thing even wider, so that now I don’t know who is on what side, and if there are even sides at all.
perfection edits
When we got back to the compound and my service returned, I saw 13 unread messages from my usually impassive friend and felt that old immediate need, that rush to respond. But first I had a smoke. They were pissed because of an edit I made to their last post...
midnight & the stars and you
What if, instead of being a benevolent entity helping to lead us out of the maze of ordinary reality, Heir Max was the Minotaur at its center–the half-man, half-beast form of a demented deity that wanted to be worshipped like a ferreal god?
void jazz
I slept uneasily inside a vaulted void and dreamt, not for the first time, that Heir Max was beside me in the bed. That was it, there was nothing else to it, just the thrilling and terrifying feeling of his (its?) invisible presence close enough to hear my thoughts.
Nada & the New Style
Chapter 3: No news, no obligations, no parties to try and pull myself together for. Just the two of us, me helping her create a revolution with art, like lassoing a satellite spun out of orbit, and beaming its frequency into the darkness.
Postworld
“It’s ok to try harder." I asked the other Babies if they agreed with what Em said and they said of course. That was the main message–to try. Ever since last summer when everything shifted.
And that was the first I heard of Postworld.
