Ticonderoga Online issue 8 is online, and it features my story Fade. Go, read it, tell me how much you love me.
The issue also features a competition, wherein you can win one of two signed copies of my collection Through Soft Air. For those too slack to get over to TicON and read the details, here they are:
Win a signed copy of Lee Battersby’s debut collection Through Soft Air
TiconderogaOnline has two copies of Through Soft Air to give away, signed and kindly donated by the author.
To date, Lee Battersby has published three “Father Muerte” stories: “Father Muerte and the Theft”, “Father Muerte and the Rain” and “Father Muerte and the Flesh”.
Simply send in your suggestion for the title to an imaginary “Father Muerte and …” story, following the same naming convention. All entries received before 1 August 2006 will be forwarded to Lee Battersby, who will pick the best two entries.
Conditions of entry
1. Closing date: midnight Western Australian time (GMT +0800) 31 July 2006.
2. Entries to be of the form: “Father Muerte and …”
4. Multiple entries are permitted.
5. The judge’s decision is final.
6. By entering the competition you give TiconderogaOnline the right to publish your entry.
So, what are you waiting for?
WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?
Brazil out to France, a team that only scraped into the finals because the team they played in the final round of qualifying had to be home at 3pm to pick up the kids from school? What the flock is going on here?
And as to England, how bloody hard is it to put the ball in the net from 6 yards out when the bloody goal is 10 yards wide and there’s only one Portugese midget between you and glory? Doesn’t the 50K a week paypacket come with instructions? Fuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck.
And a short note to Wayne Rooney: Wayne, if you’re reading (because I know you like to pop over and have a squizz of an evening), GROW A BRAIN YOU MORONIC SHREK LOOKALIKE IDIOT!
That is all.
FATHER, FORGIVE ME, IT’S BEEN 5 MINUTES SINCE MY LAST CONFESSION
Everybody has their guilty pleasures, those inexplicable lapses in taste that help define the inner contours of your aesthetic soul. Rob Hood
, a paragon of taste and dignity, has a bizarre attachment to Hawkwind
that defies description. Cheshire Noir
seems inordinately fond of the Commodore 64.
7 months after I got it for Christmas, I managed to have the office clean enough so that I could connect my LP player to the computer this morning, and pulled out the vinyl.
And I’ve been rocking out to my Slade records ever since.
And I feellllll ALL- riiiiii-iiiii-iiiiiggggggghtttttttttttt………………………………….
PAMPERING MY INNER NERD
Just because it still tickles my fancy a month after I took it at Conflux, the following photo:
This is not the Dalek you are looking for…
Song of the moment: Mama Weer All Crazee Now Slade