This Boing Boing round-up of folks who dig in their spare time is going to need further scrutiny from me later.

It actually tickles my memory in regards to a short story I wrote back when I was still writing nothing but crap.

As opposed to now, where I have flashes of things that are at least readable.

It was called "Subterranean," and it was my attempt, at the time, to ape a bit of Lovecraft. It concerned a guy whose younger brother was stolen by creatures that lived beneath the surface of the earth, and his attempt to rescue the kid.

It makes my flesh crawl just to think about the story–not because I had somehow distilled HPL's ability to mindgrope you at that early age, but because it was rubbish. I find all of that early shit to be abhorrent and it shows my trust for you, my three readers, that I even bring it up now. About the only thing that I look back and find novel at all was the nature of the creatures themselves.

I then later appropriated that, I realize now, for another Lovecraftian idea I had that was also shelved.

It's a bit twisty, otherwise I would post it here. And worth using elsewhere. So.

If I can ever get time, I'll post some sketches I've been doing for two new short projects. But the real world is kicking my arse these days. Send coffee and lots of it. Thanks.