Simon of the Woods
One time at the hospital we ate pretzels. I never thought I'd be one.
I awoke this morning in a position suitable for the discussion of high-dimensional manifold topology. Various portions of my body were pressed up against other parts who had not heretofore been mutually introduced. For example, I had not until this morning been aware of the fact that I could scratch my ass with my elbow.
Live and learn.
I untangled myself with a series of dignified grunts and eventually tumbled akimbo in the middle of the tiny wooden house. I tried to get up but I smacked my head on the low ceiling and immediately found myself sitting again, cradling my skull in my filthy palms.
"Nurse?" I called hopefully...
Dear readers,
It's finally happened: the free version of this science-fiction novel has been taken offline in order to make room for the hard-cover printed edition from Ephemera Bound Publishing, on sale in stores and online beginning Valentine's Day, 2008.
I regret any disappointment. I kept the free version available as long as I could. Pleasure be sure to check out the new edition! See Cheeseburger Brown.com for more information and updates.
Love,
Cheeseburger Brown
P.S. You can read more of my free fiction via my weblog or in the complete story achives.
posted by Simon of Space at 01:10
10 Comments:
a drug to be sure... don't stop!
Been waiting all weekend for the next installment.
Dude! What j. francis lehman said! :)
Been checking every few hours, all weekend, for
my fix. :)
Hope Simon doesn't get "cat scratch fever". That's
actually real... but I don't know the more
technical term for it. [Hey, I have dogs. :) ]
Cheeseburger, where do you live? I get the
impression that it's England, but only from an
elevator being called a "Lift". I'm over in
California, USA... hence the "Dude" usage. :)
Does Simon know how old he's supposed to be?
I forget what his age is. [Need to rescan your
posts.]
Poor Simon is afraid of the Gate. I wondered if that
was the way they intended to send him home... I
seem to be forgetting that detail too, and if it was
mentioned in prior Diary entries. But it's late here,
almost 4am: I am only up because the dogs wanted
out. So Simon-details are a little fuzzy at the
moment.
I'm glad to see Simon has a caretaker again. :) He
needs a friend.
This is Monday's post already? *sniff* I was hoping it was a weekend post and Monday's was yet to come.. shoulda looked at the date :|
*waits impatiently for Tuesday's post....*
Yikes! Something is very wrong with Simon's noodle if he knows "what's suitable for the discussion of high-dimensional manifold topology" but he can't remember what cats and children are. I will assume this symptom is an intentional move on the Cheeseburger's part, hinting at the deeper weirdness of Simon's predicament.
A note, offered only because the similarity occurred to me: both Vader and Simon started their journals on someone else's advice. It might not mean anything, but I thought I'd point it out in case Blog Protagonist #3 wants to start his journal purely as an act of self-aggrandizement. ;)
Thanks, Burger! Love the work. I'm almost (almost) inspired to kill my own procrastination demon and scribble something again.
Good God... how on EARTH are you not signed for a best selling book deal???
Outstanding stuff... thanks.
Dave
"Dear diary," I mumbled into the floor, "I have become the pet of an affable child."
Best ending line ever!
Skaught, it sounds a lot like a lobotomy case study I heard about in one of my college psych classes. The patient -- referred to as H.M. -- suffered from severe seizures, such that the only recourse was the aforementioned frontal lobotomy. Afterward, he could form no new memories (they would evaporate within a day) but he could remember everything beforehand, and even learn new skills (which he then couldn't remember how he had learned).
Of course it's not exactly like that... Anyhoo, bravo to Cheeseburger; this writing is excellent, and more filling than the webcomics to which I usually find myself addicted.
My Two favorites lines of the day:
1. I saw that his skin was pink, like uncooked bacon.
2. "How does it make you feel, Pish, to be at the beginning of your life?"
Cheeseburger, your unique (simple yet deep) analogies are a treasure.
And addictive. Keep em coming.
Dear all,
On the subject of posting frequency: I'm doing my best to issue new Simon of Space posts as frequently as possible, the ideal being once a day every day.
In the desert of the real, however, I am limited to squeezing in Simon between several projects which compete for my time (and let's face it, most of them end up with my getting paid, as opposed to this). I'm juggling a Swiss au pair girl, a day job lip-synching French animation, a night gig writing educational reading passages for young Americans, a wife, a child, and preparing a hundred-year-old schoolhouse for a grand summer festival (in just a few weeks...or a couple of weeks -- shit!).
In order to minimize wasting your valuable browsing time, be then this: there will almost never be new posts on the weekend (though exceptions may be made during key passages in which a breather cannot be brokered). During the week new posts will appear always on Monday, and on every week day afterward that I can manage it. There will always be an absolute minimum of two new posts per week, including the Monday post.
If you're the proactive sort, the best way to assure that I have time to spin new posts is by contributing a tip to my PayPal tip jar (on the right hand column of the blog). If I have money to buy groceries I'm unlikely to do something time-consuming and annoying like doing work for somebody else that day. Like today for example. The big bills are paid, so today I'm going to write a new post for tomorrow.
On the subject of where I live: I live in Canada. Canadians are essentially just like Americans, except with enough good sense to be embarrassed by the fact. It has been suggested that Canadian spoken English is in general slightly more formal than American English.
On the subject of Simon's age: Simon has been told that he is thirty-six years old. A "year" is this context is defined as the orbital period of the world of Amalasthuna in the Eridani stellar system. I think that's about 378 days, each 25 hours long.
On the subject of Simon's irregular mneimonic landscape: do keep in mind that Simon was exposed to various people and media during his six week sojourn at the hospital, and has thus picked up a very miscellaneous if small pool of facts.
Love,
CheeseburgerBrown
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