The Journey of SILVER BROWN

Formless Spawn of Black Ichor

When the world is being ravaged by an actual insanity-inducing Lovecraftian abomination, the task of writing about one strangely becomes easier. Although this is hardly the first one I’ve ever seen.


The last one I saw looked something like this, except It would wash down the human souls It devoured with a cup of Earl Grey tea.

The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

Now Playing: 11 and Maybe 12 (The Late Show)

An encore presentation of Chapter Eleven of SILVER BROWN awaits those who dare drink from the poisoned chalice that is Facebook. At a rate of one page a day, as usual. I might throw in the next chapter after that, if I feel like it.

On a somewhat distantly related note, the Zuckerverse brings to mind the Holy Grail scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, if we think of Dr. Schneider as a metaphorical personification of the platform’s now-infamous algorithm and rechristen her male Nazi colleague with the name of Karen. I totally get symbolism.


The Green Grass of SILVER BROWN

The Romancier’s Guide to Netflix, Part I

Most of the books I read during the (first?) COVID-19 lockdown were textbooks. As in, non-fiction. Try not to hate me for that; I have always consumed a wide gamut of literature. Figured I should make the best of a bad situation, using the downtime to learn a few new skills. For the inevitable moments when I felt like banging my head against a brick wall, be it from writer’s block, the fate of nations or a particularly troublesome bug in some app I was building, it was Netflix to the rescue.

The other night I happened across some animated series from India (presented in the original Hindi with no dubbing whatsoever, which I appreciated) depicting the hypothetical wacky adventures of Ganesha as a boy. A kids’ show, obviously. But kids’ shows are (more often than not) the shit after a couple of bong rips, so I decided to check it out. At first I found Bal Ganesh endlessly fascinating. I was being offered a glimpse into what kind of Saturday morning cartoons I would’ve been watching had the Fates decreed I be born on a different continent. Subsequent episodes impressed upon me that this was exactly like one of those gawd-awful religious shows my cousins used to watch when they were kids (if you have never heard of Psalty the Singing Songbook, consider yourself blessed), only with a Hindu angle to it. Once it dawned on me that every episode of this series basically has the same plot, the fatal flaw in its premise became abundantly clear to me; a flash of insight which I immediately tweeted…