Amnesia

I had started a science fiction short story awhile ago and I can happily say that I’ve finally finished!

Coming in at just under 7000 words, I took the time to edit and place into manuscript format. For any of you aspiring writers out there, I would change your settings to leading submission guidelines beforehand. What a pain in the friggen butt to edit afterwards, although I was grateful to have to go back and reread it on a totally different level.

My first submission will be to Strange Horizon’s magazine. Once I get rejected, I’m hoping to circulate in other arenas.
Wish me luck.

Just kidding. However, when did Starbuck start looking hawt?

As a woman, I can appreciate the female form in all of it’s beauty, but damn, this sizzles.

Taken from her upcoming EW shoot and interview and jacked off (giggles) Io9.com:

Imagine a peppy Depeche Mode and you have Cut Copy.  It’s what Coldplay would sound like if they invested in therapy.

Enjoy. Dance. Live.

The second part of our interview with the amazing Patrick Rothfuss can be found here!

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed the friendly banter!

Gillian,
 
I think I’ve finally parted ways with my homesickness. I’m wrapping up a one week leave and I’ve finally managed to relax. Michael Collins turned out to be rather enjoyable company (in more ways than one) as well. I  have something funny to share with you, though.
 
Remember that time you got to go to Disney in Paris and I was home with the chickenpox? Aside from a Winne the Pooh doll that I secretly loved and openly hated,  I was so extremely jealous that while you were dancing to the music of the Main Street parade, I got to read about it on a stupid postcard. Nothing would ever fix the gaping hole I felt as an eight year old!  I’m not one to hold a grudge…but if you’ll notice, I’ve enclosed a rather festive postcard from the moon that I found in a sundries store. A quick banter with the clerk revealed that the postcards were originally designed for the tourism industry that never really took off  what with the ongoing war. Instead, the biggest buyers are military personnel desperate to send any images of their lives back home since digital cams are censored. 
 
If you’ll notice the upper right picture; that’s the AeroG.  They’re a set of bamboo, nylon, and beryllium wings that you strap onto your back and arms. You can leap off of a man-made aerie in a gymnasmium that was made from on old water storage tank. The floor has different vents in it that blow warm air directly up at random times, allowing you to glide, dive, and slowly climb once you get the hang of it. It was amazing, Gillian. Never in my life have I felt so free as when I was swooping back and forth with Michael.  I got to fly just like your precious Peter Pan…without the fairy dust.
 
The bottom picture is Earthrise, as taken from the top of the New Tokyo dome. There is a wonderful restaurant there that serves cuisine from all across the globe. While lost in conversation with Michael, and stuffing my face with the best food I’ve had since childhood, I can look out and watch over you with serenity, peace, and more importantly–hope. While it’s been said the dregs of the Earth come to fight for the survival of the race, I’ve found some great men and women that I am proud to call brothers and sisters. 
 
When the party’s over and I am finally called back to duty in a day or so, I will go knowing that I’m fighting for something worthwhile. And while I thought I had an excuse to jump ship and fly hundreds of thousands of miles away from everything I’ve ever known and loved, I’ve ironically come full circle.  I’m fighting for you. I’m fighting for Dad and Mum. I’m even fighting for those jerkoffs at the pubs. The reasons why I came here don’t matter anymore. The bottom line is that I’m doing something worthwhile that makes a difference in people’s lives. Perhaps I intended it to be a penance for all the pain I’ve caused, but it has changed into something more.
 
Enjoy the postcard. The weather’s beautiful.
 
Shannon

Today, I hate everything. Corner me and you’re going to get claws across the face. While the reasons for my departure from social niceties will remain private, as there are many, I will just warn anyone who wants to make me angry, to prepare for the consequences.

By consquences, I mean:

Yelling. I will yell at the top of my lungs at you. Those of you who know me, understand that while I will get frustrated with things, I’m usually pretty calm. To get me to raise my voice, is something that you will never ever forget.

I will ignore you.

I will come at you with the acidity of a million lemons, debating you into a corner until your face melts ala that poor sap in the original Indiana Jones finale. People tell me that it hurts.

I will bring up every single injustice that I’ve ever been through with you in our relationship until you will not be able to remember one single happy memory. People prefer the mythical Azkaban prison in the Harry Potter novels to my wrath. Some even prefer the Dementor’s Kiss to my rage.

Like an elephant, I will never forget what you did to make me so enraged as to complete any of the above listed.

Consider yourself warned.

Hey Gillian,

I’ll take it since it’s been some time, and that I’ve not received any return correspondence, that you’re probably not going to write back. Its okay, I guess. I never asked for a pen-pal, just someone to experience this war through my eyes. Hell, you can even consider this a diary should I not return. It could be my famous last words or some sappy shit like that. Hopefully, that admission will take away some of the awkward pressure in your decision to put pen to paper.

It’s funny, immediately after I sent the last letter, I met up with a colleague at the NCO bar at my request. He’s a sweet kid, and like a lot of the boys back home; both you and I could drink him under the table. It was only a few shots before he was looking at me like I was Goddamn Aphrodite.

Man, remember those days at Matt the Millers? Between the two of us, we’d have almost every bloke drooling at our heels and begging to take us home. God, I really miss that.

Could you hear my over exaggerated sigh from this far away? I really do hope you’re doing okay and that I haven’t messed up things too badly for you. I guess you were right when you’ve accused me of jumping ship when things got ugly. Without any contacts from home, I really have no idea what became of, well, anything. Even if I’m not there to meet the consequences, believe me when I say that I think about it almost every day. I don’t know if you are pumping that fist in some small celebration of the thought of my mental demise, or actually worried about me out here, but as I’ve said in every other letter; I do miss you.

Regardless, back to my little soiree. My Platoon Sergeant gave a small and informal lecture on ‘experience’, after overhearing me spit out conspiracy theories during our first engagement. She felt it was her duty to make sure I wouldn’t be spouting such nonsense so freely without the proper education. I don’t get it, even after facing our own deaths, and surviving the best Terran training, we are still considered ‘green.’ Newbies. Freshmen. Bottom of the food chain. There are terms and phrases for lack of experience no matter where you end up, but the truth is, mostly everyone who has to work for something starts in the shit. I don’t know why, but her words, no matter how wise they were,  hit me harder than any stun-fire exercise that I had suffered in training. I’ve always been one to roll up my sleeves when it’s been needed, but I would have thought somewhere between fighting for the survival of the human race and your own hide, the bar would be set lower as to where you belong up here.

It’s a rather big jolt to the system that despite my intelligence, I still know absolutely nothing and I guess I need to keep my mouth shut.

Shannon
 
P.S. Collins is his name. Mum would be so proud to know I bedded someone atleast appearing to have Irish blood.

…when you have the “Swing Wing”? Yes, now you can enjoy the toys of our grandfathers, with the newly enhanced “swing wing” that sucks out your braaaaaainnnnnsssss!

Thanks Gary for the linkatude.

I really hate talking bad about her. I also hate it when others do, but come on! She was the friggen First Lady arriving in Bosnia with her daughter! Did she not think this was going to be in some news archive they wouldn’t find after she made those comments?

I thought she was smarter than that, and frankly it’s almost like writing your own autobiography about events that never happened. We’ve all seen what has happened in those cases.

Yeah, I know politicians lie. This however, is so blatant its hard for me to take her seriously. If you’re going to hoodwink the people of the US, try to do it inconspicuously. I had respect for the woman, but now I am not so sure.

For those of you who are interested, the new author interview with Patrick Rothfuss is up on Pete’s site. Pat wrote “The Name of the Wind”, which in my opinion is one of my favorite Fantasy books of all time, and is an instant classic.

I met Pat back in Boston a few months ago, and despite the hobbit-esque hairiness, he is a both a gentleman and scholar. If you ever get the chance to attend a signing or a reading, do not miss out.

Enjoy the interview and feel free to leave comments!