Push–Can I Automate That?

 

I like to automate. When I hit a problem with timing or effort, the question becomes: “Can I automate that? Can I make technology do that for me?” I am a transhumanist: it’s not odd I think that way, but what is funny is how often the answer is a resounding YES to those questions.

I guess the world is catching up to the proposed futures of the past. Smart plugs make my light turn on by my schedule. My scale records my weight for me. If I can make something give alerts or similar when events occur, then I am all for it.

Now, you might call me lazy. You might call me spoiled. You’re right on the first one, possibly right on the second. After all, I am a white male, cis-gendered, heterosexual living in America (also a little left-leaning, if you could not tell from that tongue twister), so I get access to some of the best stuff in the world—and I can get it delivered to my door.

And that’s spoiled.

That’s lazy. Continue reading

Advertisements

Flash Fiction: Fever

“Now honey, please don’t stay up late.” Margaret patted her son on the shoulder and gave him a little smile. “You need to take care of yourself, okay? That’s not a small fever, so don’t push it.”

“Okay, mom. I just want to finish up this round.” Billy clicked on the screen, making game cards move. The resulting graphics assured him that his latest move was a good one.

“Okay. I just want you to feel better.”

“Don’t worry—I will,” Billy said. Continue reading

Fuck That Little Voice

Imposter syndrome, fear of criticism, and creative blocks. Some more legitimate than others, but all real. I would know, I’ve had them. But, despite being a nervous, introverted, lessening-so-but-still-shy person, I’ve done a good enough job of being out there with my artistic work.

Those issues I listed come down to a little voice telling us we are failures, that we are about to get shanked by the world at large for our lack of talent. And, while I don’t know how to make myself able to tell a speech to a crowd, I have advice for how to slay this beast of a voice. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Briny Deep

“Deep down there, in the deep, what did they find? What could make them sleep? On what do they feed, and what is seen by their endless eyes?”

“Stop!”

“The tales they tell of what they have is not one for the foolish—only the dead.”

“No, please. This is going to hurt us. You are wrong.” Continue reading

Like Nothing Can Touch You

The last post that was not a piece of fiction from me was a tad on the depressing side, so, I figured I’d spin the mood around and deliver something happy while I sort out my shit.

Because, even if I talk like it is, complain, the world is not all darkness and fire—neither is it unicorns and the first bite of an apple on a summer evening as the sun goes down—but there are moments, even if they are fleeting, where one can raise their hands to the sky and say “this, this is the meaning of it all. Right here. Right now.” Continue reading

Ten Pounds Of Terror

Had to leave town because of Hurricane Irma. Could not cook my own food in Chicago. Then, came back and discovered the loveliness of eggnog martinis and double espressos lattes.

But, turns out, coffee, all coffee, even just a little of the stuff, burns my stomach.

But, yeah, quitting it is difficult. So, that’s fun. Caffeine, you’re a cruel monster.

Then, after learning white wine is gross, and so are mimosas, and they give me cottonmouth, I caught what appeared to be the plague. A lot of Florida, and possibly more of the country, got this super nasty bug, and, for a little while, I did not feel like eating anything other than liquid.

So, I got good at protein shakes. Like, I made some mean drinks—if I may toot my own horn on my own blog.

But, after all that, after I came back to coffee after quitting and discovered I like cappuccinos more than even lattes: I had a horrible reality check.

I’d gained ten pounds. Continue reading

Another Link Between Horror And Comedy

Oft-repeated statements highlighting the similarities of horror and comedy in terms of their emotional requirements and polarizing nature aside—there is something they have in common. Something only someone who experiences them a lot would know, or, at least, would know intimately. Continue reading

Microfiction: Hide

The cracks let in the wind. A howling wind. Moving there, touching a hair, a face, a piece of cloth. A taste on it, of gunpowder and ash. Of the ending of the world.

Terry kept his hand on the handle, though if it went, it would not stop from going by his grip. Haley clutched a collection of towels and buttons that made a bear. Continue reading

Fuck-Up, Millenial, And Sleep Deprevation

Writers are solitary creatures, but, I am increasingly social lately. And, in my “travels,” I’ve learned the accuracy of an oft-repeated statement: almost no one has their shit together. People may put on a good show, a front of calm and being collected, but everyone is scrambling and panicked—if only a little.

The most common sign of this I hear from people is sleep deprivation. I cannot believe how many of my fellow twenty-somethings sacrifice sleep. Continue reading

Leaning Into The Sterotypes

I am a writer, and with that title comes all these stereotypes about the way I might dress or act. And, while some of these are accurate, some are harmful or untrue. Writers are stereotypically alcoholics, for instance, and that does not apply to me—I barely touch the stuff.

But, then, we get to the other stereotypes, the more neutral ones. The stuff that’s not harmful, and more just a product of popular culture, and, it is here, with these, that I have an interesting relationship. Because, I don’t wear tweed or carry around a paper notebook (I have a phone, after all), and I don’t constantly wear a knapsack or a fedora. But, unlike the bad stereotypes, some of these generalities I feel tempted to adopt, even if they are clichés. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Smells Like Coffee

“Between the three of us, we have genius on lock,” said one, and he slurped his coffee. None of them noticed, or perceived even subconsciously, that they were breathing in perfect tandem.

“Oh, yes, we are sure to make this world quake with fear,” said another, and he took a long draw from the creamy froth he had in his cup.

“I agree,” said the third, and he wiped his brow, which was sweating. Without talking about it, planning, or any indication of forethought, the other two did so too.

“So, then, we should begin on the plan—we need to work out how we will rule the world.”

“I agree with that.” Slurp. “First though, I think I need a refill on this.” Continue reading

Some Ill-Informed Futuristic Predicitons

Who said having in-depth knowledge of something is a necessary step to talking about it? And, yes, that’s satire, but, even if it makes me hypocritical, I’m doing it anyway. Because, it’s a new year, and the technological singularity is a thing that exists and will only exist more: so, I figured I’d go and tally up some technological innovations I expect to come into a more prominent place this year of 2018. Continue reading