SIGHTS

A-Tikkin’ and A-Tokkin’

As a comfortable majority of us are aware, talk of a change of management at Twitter is afoot. Depending on to what extent the Muskian suckage sickens The Bird (which I anticipate to be significant, on account of our new would-be overlord’s dastardly plot to reanimate the orange monster from its eldritch crypt for no reason whatsoever other than for the evulz), I may find myself switching to another platform as the primary social tentacle of this website. Methinks the time has come to give that new kid on the block a whirl. I’ll probably get bored with TikTok after a week, but it’s nice to know it’s there as a backup in case Captain Elon’s woeful neglect of the rat problem forces me to abandon ship.

My voice isn’t the oratory chocolate of Sir David Attenborough and I probably totally goofed in putting this maiden TikTok creation together, but as an exercise in getting my hands dirty with the platform, it works.



TASTE

He With Nine Toes

One of the things I miss about the SILVER BROWN experiment is drinking the essence of the people’s vibes whenever I threw pages of the manuscript out into the Twitterverse. I’ve been itching to do something like that again in 2022. Unfortunately, my current work in progress is not yet at a point where I’m comfortable with the idea of other people reading it — it’ll need to go through a few drafts before it gets to that stage, and I’m still in the middle of writing the first one. In order to scratch the aforesaid itch, I shall dig up one of my oldies that I started writing in 2008 and eventually forgot about.



Years ago, in the days when people still met in person, I used to attend writers’ critique circles that were advertised on Meetup. At the first meeting, I showed them the first few chapters of HE WITH NINE TOES — the manuscript I was working on at the time. If I recall, the reception was glowing. The only beef they had with it was the choice of vernacular. These chapters take place on an agricultural planet, where the locals speak a dialect that is heavily influenced by the Scots language. In their reviews, my fellow scribes told me that they frequently couldn’t make heads or tails of what the characters were saying. But aside from that, they loved it.

I never got around to correcting the issues they brought up, abandoning HE WITH NINE TOES to try my hand at writing something that wasn’t space opera. But I think it’s in decent enough shape to amuse people if I were to show it to the world at this time, warts and all. Starting on the 7th, unless something comes up. If it helps lighten the mood this apocalypse tax season, it’ll be totally worth it.


The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

SILVER BROWN: The Final Chapters

Chapters Seventeen and Eighteen will soon be presented to the good people of Planet Earth on Twitter. A new page every day, as usual. I usually start doing this sort of thing on the seventh day of a given month (i.e. today), but this time I’m reluctant to start doing that while the Stanley Cup playoffs are still on.

Ovi knows that feeling. Maybe not so much this year, but he knows that feeling.

The aforementioned sporting tournament is typically over long before the solstice, but this is hardly a typical year. So I tweaked the scheduling accordingly. The tweetment of these pages shall commence the morning after Lord Stanley’s Mug is hoisted. Which could be as soon as tonight*, for all I know.

* My apologies to any diehard Habs fans reading this, but your guys are as good as toast. They’ve clearly met their match with the Bolts’ powerful blue line. Tampa could replace Vasilevskiy with a three-toed sloth and there wouldn’t be any noticeable improvement to your shots on goal.

Once I run out of pages to tweet, SILVER BROWN shall be officially retired as a literary project. This site will then go through a molting phase of its life cycle. I know not what will eventually hatch out of the cocoon, but not knowing is half the fun.