Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic

Part of my plan to drop about ten or twelve kilos while the ladies are away is to get more time in at the dojo. Traditional jujitsu is not the calorie furnace you get in the Brazilian offshoot, but it"ll do me. As I get older and the knees get creakier I find the ground-fighting harder.

By happy coincidence, however, I"m working through the second bar of my brown belt grading at the moment. Plenty of opportunity for burning off flab there.

Having lain fallow for most of the year, I now find myself ready to do A LOT of work. The white board that hangs by my desk has a bunch of projects on on it, probably three years worth.

One is called EOW.

I think of it as my nod to The Stand, the book that got me into reading and, as it turned out, writing.

I spent most of today reading the draft chapters of The Cruel Stars on Dropbox Paper. It had been so long since I'd been able to do any concentrated work on it that I thought I'd better familiarise myself with the story and characters again. I'm glad I did. I really like this story and hope it gets a chance to stretch its legs.

Yeah. I went there.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the Bunnies crying with a sexy saxophone. Silence the eight-track disco, and with a muffled drum, bring out the tiger fur-lined coffin, let the mourners come. Let the Playboy Jet circle overhead, scribbling on the sky the message, Hef is dead.

The alpha perv is no more.