…that which extends, increases, supplements, or carries on; as, the continuation of a story.

This is not an introduction, as I have been on & off the web more times then I care to count. The domain is old, but the site spawns forth a new direction. I thank you in advance for your patronage, and welcome you to my next adventure.

I hope to knock the dust off, and get a design up for this blog relatively soon. It cannot be WEB2.0 without some personalization. Slowly, I will sort out the categories of things to discuss, while adding an RSS feed here or there. Look for some upcoming podcasts, and other media things.

Tandem Story

Greetings dear readers. Not a whole lot of blogging today, so I’ll just regurgitate this old joke…

RECEIVED FROM AN ENGLISH PROFESSOR: You know that book Men are from Mars, Women from Venus? Well, here’s a prime example of that. This assignment was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca (last name deleted) and Gary (last name deleted).

First, the Assignment: English 44A, SMU, Creative Writing, Professor Miller.

In-class assignment for Wednesday:

Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when they agree a conclusion has been reached.

And now, the Assignment as submitted by Rebecca & Gary:


At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.


Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago.

“A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,” he said into his transgalactic communicator.

“Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far…” But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship’s cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.


He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4.

“Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel.” Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth — when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her.

“Why must one lose one’s innocence to become a woman?” she pondered wistfully.


Little did she know, but she has less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu’udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu’udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion which vaporized Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table.

“We can’t allow this! I’m going to veto that treaty! Let’s blow ’em out of the sky!”


This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.


Yeah? Well, you’re a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium.





I missed it… DAMMIT.

On Thursday, October 14th my sister Lesli (of the infamous Ms. Led) faced off against Kurt Block of Young Fresh Fellows/Fastbacks in IRON COMPOSER. This live songwriting competition held at The Crocodile Cafe & presented by the Seattle Rock School tested each contestant as they moved through an aural obstacle course.

One audience member, randomly chosen as the “secret ingredient,” gushed on about his or her current state of affairs (or nefarious past) in a five-minute interview. Each composer then drew inspiration from the personal life-details provided by the “secret ingredient” and incorporated them into an original song.

Each IRON COMPOSER was equipped with “musical kitchens” with the following accoutrements: one guitar, one piano, paper and pencil and one Sous Chef Line Musician. The Sous Chef relayed all information to the house band in parts and conducted live rehearsals with the band on stage. The composers only communicated with the band via the Sous Chef, and had direct access to the band only once, during the final performance.

While most would pshaw at the ease of this particular task the entire 45-minute competition was divided into five nine-minute segments. Each segment contained “Mystery Chaos,” performed by The Interloper (Korby Sears of Seattle School) which attempted to distract the composers from his or her work. As added molasses, each composer drank a shot of liquor at the beginning of each round, consuming five shots in the course of 45 minutes. Only after such consumption did each perform his or her composition.

Needless to say LESLI KICKED ASS!!! Not only did she do the five shots well within the time limit, she had a sixth shot just before her performance and many celebrated toasts after winning. I don’t know many who can write music AND drink everyone under the table.

There are times it really sucks being here in Dallas.


msled_2004.jpgWOW, has it really been a year since my last blog update? *chuckle*

I figured my sister’s birthday was as good a reason to post as I could muster today. Her band Ms. Led has a new album do out in November. You can checkout their flash website to get all the latest info. I should be updating the main HTML site fairly soon.

Feel free to leave her birthday wishes, buy her lavish gifts from or treat yourself and the band by purchasing swag off their website.