Welcome to my nightmare.

zombieman's picture

This one is probably brought to you by a lack of alcohol, which I typically use to take the bright, cutting edge off of my subconscious.


I am dead. It’s worse than I feared, no sensible dissipation into the nether from which I came. The nether which we all know we shall return to, regardless of our teachings of faith to the opposite. Further, I chose the wrong religion or perhaps the right one, but I wore blended fabrics, took the Lord’s name in vain or got some ink done. So hell for me it is!


Fall Musings

zombieman's picture

It has been a good September, the weather is top notch and other than an unusual scarcity of funds, things have settled into the 'winter' rhythm. School, work, dinner, work, sleep, house work, a pattern that takes some getting used to and changes every semester. Not that I am in school, teach school or even care overly much about school these days, but I have family members who are in school and their schedules with work and classes are all over the map. Deciding who is preparing dinner and figuring out how many people will be home to eat it are ongoing concerns.


zombieman's picture

I look over the progress of Undead Advantage II and it leads me into a bit of despair. Not for the story, it is coming along fine, I’m quite happy with it and feel it really progresses the entire ‘world.’ No, I see that I’ve had dozens of writing sessions. Way more than I usually take to finish a novel of this relatively modest size. I started writing the book on September the 6th in 2012. That’s over 2 years ago.


zombieman's picture

“You just stand right there and let me grab your meat.” The burly man said to me.

I couldn’t help it, there was a long, awkward silence as I thought of the phrasing the man had used. The 13 year old inside was only just held back from laughing out loud by my 45 year old, supposedly mature, self. Laughing at your butcher is probably the best way to get short-meated next season that I know of.


zombieman's picture

One death. That’s all we get. No more, no less. As a young man I dreamed of dying in some dramatic fashion that would cause remembrances of me throughout history. As a middle aged man I cannot remember anyone who died for anything worth remembering. It is a shared experience, so much as any living thing is shared, which is to say nothing whatsoever is shared, is it?

Hot and Humid

zombieman's picture

I'm okay with the weather right now. It seems like in the Midwest you have a built in subject of discussion no matter who you are, what your gender is, what your skin color is and who you like to keep company with at night; the weather. Perhaps it's the same all over? I do remember when I was a boy talking to my grandpa Clodi out in Illinois we always talked about the weather.

Heading out

zombieman's picture

Why do I fish? Catching, cleaning and consuming meat myself is so passê, I could just get food at the grocery store and probably for a lot less than the effort of getting licensed, buying equipment, getting to the  fishin' hole and then spending countless hours waiting for that nibble... There is something both primitive and advanced about how I, and others, fish. Primitive, because, like I said, there really is no need to do this anymore, yet advanced because...well have you seen fishing equipment these days? A wonder of modern technology.


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