Joanie died last night at a vet office in Simcoe. I haven't seen her since last week, and she lived with us for about a month. Hooray for a God that gives a dog a shitty life and then takes it away a month after she gets a family who loves her! Praise the fucking Lord!

It's on depression and craftiness. I'm not sure if you can tell it's been edited, but the underneath is still mine. Sometimes I wonder if my writing style is too, I don't know, stream-of-consciousness to be widely accepted. Not that wide acceptance is my first priority, but some acceptance would be nice. Anyway, here's the link!

Thanks for reading!

Oh, and Joanie is doing awesome! She plays and wags her tail now. That's a big step up from cowering at the back of her kennel.

I have posted to both blogs this evening - the jewellery one and the fiction one. Both deal with mermaids, but only one promises to lead to a gruesome conclusion. And it will, someday.

The day I finish something, the horror community better watch the fuck out. I'm coming for you, Eli Roth, and I'm bringing Plot and Character Development with me. I got that formula from Bryan DiTolvo. Thanks, B.

The store is now open! I am, this very second, posting about this on my other blog - read all about it, if this doesn't make it clear enough for you. To cut to the chase while still heeding my feelings, go right to the store! Couldn't hurt to check things out, could it?

I don't know if I'm going to let you know every time I update the jewellery blog. But I am today! Check it out - three of my favourite things that I've made. I've also crushingly disappointed myself in another area of my life, but I don't want to talk about that now. I kind of wish there was one person I could be completely honest with, regarding how I feel about things like this. They're big feelings, though, and I don't want to blacken anyone else's mood. Look at the Vera Luna update, though - one thing I'm completely proud of.

My jewellery blog, on a site that makes editing posts fucking impossible:

Jewels!

Take a look!

Standing in the vestibule of his apartment building, waiting for another fifteen minutes to pass so she could buzz him again without feeling  too weird about it, it hit her: this was it. Even if he did give up and answer, he could never say anything to satisfy the feeling inside her. When a guy promises to meet you at work and doesn't show up, doesn't answer his phone, and doesn't buzz you into the building when you make your way there, it doesn't matter how considerate he seemed on the phone yesterday. All the times he told you he loved you, that you were the only girl he could see...those didn't matter after this, this cleaning of the slate. He was forgetting about her, in a matter of days, without warning. She was that girl, that woman; the faceless, the body-without-a-name. Her hand hovered over the keypad, waiting for orders from a brain that just didn't recognize itself anymore. "You're smarter than this," it scolded itself.

The sound of the outer door opening behind her startled her out of that. A UPS delivery man stepped up to key a number into the system, and a resident more considerate than the one she was here to see buzzed him in. Before she could talk herself out of it, she snapped open the door behind him and followed him inside. They shared an elevator with a man and his large dog. When her floor came up, she smelled that smell, the smell of nights at this unpredictable boy's apartment, the smell of laundry and some other sweet, unidentified thing. She tried not to associate that with happiness. That was likely over now.

When she knocked, the sound was hollow, and she thought he probably wasn't home anyway. She waited a few minutes, reading a fire drill warning sign, listening for anything. Nothing. She knocked again, listlessly, never having felt more pathetic in her life. This was a mistake. He couldn't do anything for her now. He probably wouldn't even if he could.

 February's issue of The Open Vein is out now! I won't tell you again to fucking download it for fucking free and read what is possibly my scariest short story so far.

Read Me, Drink Me.

Pay special attention to my bio at the very end. It's quite revelatory.

The Open Vein's Christmas Special is out! Eight stories of varying depravity, all from underground horror's finest and most socially demented creators, including myself under the accidental pseudonym "Annick Sever". It's free, and you have absolutely no reason not to download it. So do it!   

Edit: Oh, maybe I'll actually link to it, huh? Good thing she's cute. 

Horrible Holiday Cheer

There you go. No excuse now =)

....he's in more things than you'd think. No word yet on his carcinogenic qualities. Last night I was at Cheapies, looking through the used DVDs, and I came across 5 movies with him in them before I realized that he's reverse stalking me. That is to say, his name pops up more than I intend, in a....Celestine Prophecy, too-much-coincidence way. After the reverse-stalking realization, I found 2 more! I know this is only funny to me, so I'll end with a question: who reverse-stalks you all? Please share your stories of constantly being faced with Mickey Rourke or Willem Dafoe. Or anyone, I was just stating examples of people you never realize are everywhere. 

A while ago for me, it was Richard O'Brien, mostly known for his role in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I like him in Dark City. He was also in that goddamned Spice Girls movie. I cried a little.

Just a short note; I'm going to be in the Christmas edition of The Open Vein, too! When I die, I will forever be remembered as the girl who just couldn't stay away from the Open Vein. And no, goddammit, you can't have a copy, it's an online publication. Step into the nineties. If you're interested, click here.

On another note, does anyone know if the HSR is going on strike? And if so, does anyone know how I'm supposed to get to work downtown 5 days a week or so until they come back? HUH?

Thanks.

No, not news about my poo, news that resembles poo. The issue of the Open Vein that was to include The Pit has been delayed until January (originally set for November). Which, I presume, will set the issue including Perfect back to March. Hopefully a sign of great things to come in 2008, since things I'd been expecting in 2007 seem to be magically popping up there. Hang on to your hats, folks, it'll happen.

One more time: the author of that awesome and highly recommended book, The Girl with the Lampshade Eyes by Bryan DiTolvo, has decided to go back into publishing. So the book is available here now complete with a blurb by me inside the front cover (or so I'm told, I have yet to witness this for myself), and for a spartan $6.55 I  would say that you'd be remiss in not getting it. So get it. Like I said the first time.

You can't afford NOT to!

Regarding the previous entry, I've just received word from the author that he's taken his book down from that site, and (quite suddenly) is no longer interested in publishing. I don't know what happened, but let me tell you, it was one hell of a book. Too bad you'll never read it, I guess.

Earlier this week - or last week, time blurs for those who have more than two jobs - .. was graciously gifted with a fantastic and surreal blender chock full of blood, teeth and frosted roboty alien goo, which was then set in a mold and left to harden in the fridge in the shape of a book. Sometime next week (or today, I honestly don't know which year I'm in) this tasty and solid concoction will be made available at paper bakeries all over the internet, where you, the public, the lucky and dare I say unsuspecting reader, will be able to purchase it for a very tame fee. I've been eating and digesting this treat for a while, and finally putting forth my vague and irrelevant review tonight will, hopefully, give my life some meaning. I really want everyone to know about this book, everyone should buy it and read it. With over forty stories bursting with gruesome life and death (and beatings and dismemberments and laughs! oh the laughs!) this is a steal.

The Girl with the Lampshade Eyes, by Bryan DiTolvo.  Buy it, read it. DO IT.

You wanna fucking fight about it????


My last training shift at the jewels store today. It's the last of a grueling 2 shift training mission. Starting Wednesday, I'm on my own. So I hope it's unimaginably simple and that I could not possibly fuck it up. It seems really easy, but I tend to mistrust myself.


I may post my first unfinished story on the Incomplete tonight. All that unfinishedness will look great with the cute background. Join me!

The aesthetics are different, I got tired of the Satin Handshake. I also upgraded to the Plus account, which is what the ads are about. Let me know if any of this is a pain in the ass, I'd be happy to change it to something more readable at this point.

I am tired, so I'll get to the point. I have a story published on a website called Industry of Guilt. The story I wrote is called Road Song. Ta da! I'm so pressed for time that I'm not even going to link to it, or maybe I will. Read on for seconds in sustained AGONY and SUSPENSE never knowing whether or not I'll take the time to cater to your imaginary desires (in my imaginationdreamland, everyone cares about what I write and wants to read me).


http://www.real-writing.com/industry_of_guilt/iogwriting.html


We'll just see how that turns out. If I have to do actual html, fuck it, no one here cares anyway. On the off chance you do care, remember: Road Song. Road Song. Annick Sever. I don't know why it's under my fictional name. I linked to the overall list because going to just my story looks boring, trust me. There are a lot of other cool things there too, like Fey by Amelia Mangan, and Too Much, Too Soon by Peter Burstin.

In reality, I'm very happy to have been approved. Acceptance, what a foreign concept.

I have changed the link in my profile from the NIN-hating blog (I don't, by the way, but the blog might) to my fiction, as published on a site that publishes anyone who knows how to work a keyboard. But I do encourage you to read, if you have some time. Writing is really just what I do.