cursive
Lindsay Bison
Writing speculative fiction in digital longhand.
cursive
Worth the Weight, Day 3
fountain pen
Worth the Weight, Day 2
'Nancy Walker?" asked the man at the desk. "Yes," admitted Nancy, already concerned by the man's demeanor, the way he glanced her up and down, like he was considering whether she would fit in to one of the luggage racks.
fountain pen
Worth the Weight, Day 1
Nancy Walker had never been described as sane, yet that is exactly how she described herself, in capital letters, under her graduation photo at the back of her yearbook. Besides a platitude from her neighbour, who walked to and from school with her, it was the only comment in the book.
now
"Tangletown", Craig Finn
AI
Artificial Intelligence and the One Percent
Artificial Intelligence (AI) is a term that gets half of the words right. The richest one percent, the techbros, spend more money than you or I will ever have convincing the rest of us the term means exactly what it implies.
now
Tweet like micro-posts in Ghost using only the title and no body. The head can survive without the body, but not the other way around apparently.
now
Bringing the inanity back home, sweeping the decks with sonar brooms
eblo
now and then: social media for the digital agoraphobic
writing
The scratching of an itchy nib
Welcome to longhand digital fiction - my aim is to write blogs, stories, and novels by hand, and then type them up verbatim to accompany the cursive - after a chapter, or short story, I will post the edits to the original writing - repeat ad infinitum and suddenly there
Tessellation Breakdown
0.0 TESSELLATION BREAKDOWN The box was empty. It was the second impossible event of the morning. First, the symmetry drive was failing; now the reserve ammunition was gone. Wemly forced the gun into her boot. Thirteen shots and then death, if she wasn't dead already. 0.1
The Trough
Afternoon. The trough. Restlessness slithers into my veins, the serpent of endless possibility. It circulates, scraping my insides, leaking its venom but sinking its fangs into nothing. An ache in my teeth that cannot be gnashed away. The broken-glass toxins refract harsh light, immobilizing photographers in a shimmering haze that