Eighth Proposition: Peluchin

Seventh Proposition: Tidying Up And The Reboot

The faltering stillborn presence of this is about to stumble back out into the light soon. My brain regrouped, time to plunge ahead into the wastelands of the miscellany inside my skull as processed by my eyes and ears and then regurgitated back into your brain. Just remember the rules for those out there who need their fact and fiction separated. Here the two blur together, fact stretched out into fabrication and stories sprung from a kernel of nonconsensual reality. Grains of salt are always fundamental and the foundation upon which the edifice sits all rickety ready to tumble over any second. Normal programming begins next Monday once I have built a little lead time with a backlog of entries to provide my security blanket. Until then, it is what it is. Against my better judgment, but under the sway of my vanity, "Loops" will begin then, in eight parts. Worry not. It has been completed, an ending of sorts guaranteed.

Sixth Proposition: Departure Log

Fifth Proposition: Audience Participation

Fourth Proposition: Eulogy For A Friend

Third Proposition: Giant Giant Panda Apocalypse (Part One)

1.1 Flat Flat, Take That
And then Krondor the Paleo-Panda lifted the giant boulder above his head, threatening the school bus that had skidded to a stop before him. The children screamed, trampling each other to flee through the emergency exits. Krondor shook in rage as he witness this witless spectacle. With a heavy sigh, he dropped the boulder on to the bus, crushing everyone but the bus driver, who escaped in the nick of time.

1.2 Moments To Be Forgotten One Second Later
In a small town ten miles away, the streets momentarily shuddered, glass breaking in the windows along Main Street. Several street lights snapped, crashing through roofs. A howl punctuated by crunching metal enveloped the ears of everyone.

1.3 The Blue Plate Special
In the greasy spoon on the edge of town, Joe's face fell into the Blue Plate Special, gravy splattering everywhere. The screech of metal made his ears dribble catsup red, a trickle sliding down his neck and on to his flannel shoulder. Obviously, he thought, he wasn't going to finish his meal, so he left a nice a tip and paid his bill. As he walked to his Gremlin. he watched people running in fright every which way, screaming with their arms up in the air.

Second Propostion: Explaining Exhibit A

First Proposition: We Enter The Second Age Of Self-Assured Destruction

Herein begins Volume Two, another year tumbling out of time's belly. This time we start over, excising a good chunk of the fictionalized personal and the personalized fictional. You can no longer expect online dating antics or other misunderstood anecdotes. Even if I were to still do so, it would be impossible seeing as I've already hitched my wagon to one star. So we won't be paging through the DSMV-IV of love anymore. As for posting, I suspect it will probably be a once a week thing since I have accepted Matt Cibula's offer to write for Cave17, a pop culture website adrift out there in Ghostinterland. We shall see how that goes what with my questionable tastes and predilection for ranting. I have a feeling my ideas and tastes may be a little askew with Cave17, but I also know Mr. Cibula is open minded. Now it's just a matter of me doing it on a regular basis and keeping to some sort of schedule. Of course, this also means that for the first time I am appearing under my own name, which makes me a little sad. Since the beginning I've followed the Pessoa model with so many fabricated identities. I will miss my imaginary friends. They were all always so much eloquent than me. But now you get what's left, me -- Darren D. Misner, my name tied to posts in the middle of the internet desert. I can hear the ants coming already and feel the sun beating me down. Volume Two, then. We've had our introduction. Who the fuck know what will follow?