pulsing in the ear
Thursday, December 25
pulsing in the ear
Sunday, December 21
I was moving down the hall of my elementary school
towards the gym
but I noticed I was moving kinda weird
this dream correlates to another one I has in my teens
but in a different way
I remeber I was trying to punch someone
someone that was trying to cause harm to me
but it was as if I wa underwater
then there are the dreams I have had in my 20's
of large robots
lasers firing from their eyes or cannons
defeating them with a mirror
then the flying dreams
they felt so real
What is this all about?
ancient words constantly appearing in my head
resurrected in digital realms
interacting with other organic lifeforms through retinas
changing neurochemical activity
forcing me to wonder how they are projected into the now
What force is behind these dreams
waking from the 1st black
dream I've ever had
I realize who I have been at least once before
Is it some form of illusion I am trapped under?
Could this be a joke the ancients are playing on me/us?
something seems wrong here
so underlying wrong that nothing can be done about it
Am I awake now?
Friday, December 5
Zim says (10:28 AM):
are you okay?
Molly says (10:28 AM):
Zim says (10:28 AM):
you know that feeling I get?
Molly says (10:28 AM):
Zim says (10:28 AM):
like something really bad is coming?
Molly says (10:28 AM):
Zim says (10:28 AM):
I got that a few minutes ago
Zim says (10:28 AM):
it's usually right
Zim says (10:29 AM):
I don't know what it could be, but I have it
Molly says (10:29 AM):
Everything's fine here.
Zim says (10:30 AM):
Wednesday, November 26
"What do we do about the situation in Arakansas?"
"Don't fucking play with me. You are fully aware of what I'm speaking of."
"I cannot tell you how important it is to.."
"I know protocol! I also know this is not.."
".. someone called Frank?"
"No one calls Frank. He knew."
"How does he know?"
"He always knows"
Sunday, November 16
Wednesday, November 5
"So? Entire cities exploded. But really... has anything changed?"
"No. I suppose not. Not really."
"And that's exactly what I've been saying. Whimper. The world dies slowly and quietly."
"You don't even notice it happening."
"Gas has even gone down."
Monday, November 3
oceans of souls screaming
time ripped to shreds
as also our lives
high to feel right
hurt to not
bleed for fun
digesting words I've read
seems I've slept in this bed
so many times before
she says it is ok
we both know it is not
we both lay
but it doesn't make it right
another life taken tonight
now I am someone else
reflecting are the broken mirrors
more clear than not
multiple dimensions of past lives
things no one should ever remember
or care to
shallow waters have now engulfed me as I shrink
depth has ultimately caused death
Where do I run now that I understand I am not alive?
no tune can soothe
oh how I miss the ease of the melody!
Sunday, November 2
This week in the apocalypse:
- Confused by The Barrens? Don't worry. It's all about to start making sense. Stewarts needs it explained to him, too.
- There's been some kind of outbreak in the world up top.
Little Apocalypse will be light on the updates next week (if we post anything), while Cassie's in Florida. But we'll be back soon. Also, remember this word: house. You might have use of it soon.
Tuesday, October 28
Sunday, October 26
We haven't been very good about telling you about updates, but they have been going up. Here's some recent stuff for you:
Some short stories have been added:
Jonathan is dealing with a pile of bodies.
Stewart is leaving notes for Zim.
Zim's been writing in his journal.
Molly pretends not to see it.
Molly & Zim put up a flickr account.
Molly & Zim's map has been updated.
Until next week, have a safe trip!
Sunday, October 12
Friday, October 10
I turned my head too quickly. The disorientation was a result of the sudden shift of perspective. I stood up too suddenly. The black vapor I caught in my peripheral vision was an illusion caused by a change in blood pressure. I cleaned recently. The mists in the air are only dust caught in the sunlight. There's not really anything there. I'm pretty sure of it.
Tuesday, October 7
Sunday, October 5
This week in the apocalypse:
*The long-awaited continuation of "Parade."
*Zim isn't getting much sleep.
*Stewart almost has her. She's so close he can touch her.
*An RSS feed's been added to the blogger.
*We've added a MySpace music page where you can add music by RJ and Brandon to your page.
Once again we had our biggest week ever, topping 1000 hits in one day. We also got a review on Grimrack'd's Dross blog.
We're looking into options for making the newer additions easier to get to, so that those of you that keep coming back don't have to follow the entire chain back to where you left off. We're considering an RSS feed for the site itself, but have certain reservations. Other options could be a weekly updated sitemap, an updates page on the site somewhere, an email newsletter.... Let us know if you have ideas, and what would work best for you.
See you next week!
Thursday, October 2
Wednesday, October 1
Monday, September 29
Sunday, September 28
This week in the apocalypse:
-The nameless "I" in The Barrens is revealed
-The nameless "she" in Stewart's life is revealed
-The world continues to crumble
-Jason Lammons and Brian Cotton join the Little Apocalypse
We had a great week this week. Not only am I really happy with the progression of the story, but exposure and hits have increased dramatically. Thank you to everyone who has shared their talents and helped spread the word!
See you next week, if the world is still here....
The following contribution comes from material written by Jason Lammons.
The halls all seem longer and the room dimensions quadrupled; voices amplified to the point of whispers.
The world will sleep for many more years - it must be this way. Only after the change can they see what is true, in front of their faces.
We have seen all that will happen from looking to our past.
2morrow is nuclear \please find another way\\
You never hear someone praying for pain or more burdens. Maybe they should, as it would inevitably develop their soul. Who said consciousness should ever have anything to do with being eternal?
WHAT AM I GETTING AT?
Those were the last words out of my dream this morning. I am not sure if they were ringing in my head or coming out of my mouth.
clocks in my head are ticking differently
A constant barrage of lunacy hastens me; I just want to stay insane (rather than out of sane).
The halls all seem longer and the room dimensions quadrupled, voices amplified to the point of whispers.
Friday, September 26
Sunday, September 21
Wednesday, September 17
Monday, September 15
*Wyoming is an old Indian word for "no state here."
*No one knows where the lake came from.
*And, AND - we've got a downloads page up now. Check out the additions from Arajay and Brandon French. Our biggest, sloppiest kisses to them! We've got a piece from Brian Cotton for you, too, but we'll save that a few more days.
Saturday, September 13
Friday, September 12
Tuesday, September 9
The World Ends While I Sleep.
I fall into a boundless darkness, then...The red-haired girl...The dead men, one I know to be dead (he has to be dead)...The other still breathing but gone all the same...Road and Rivers...Trains and Lost Movie Houses...When I wake, the night bleeds...Alone...Cold...Helpless...
I don't understand...
Sunday, August 31
Did you hear that?
Did the world just end?
I think it's starting.
Little Apocalypse is now online. Just in time, sugars.
The first incarnation includes stuff from Cassie Smyth, Paul Carrington, Tim Wiley, and Brandon French. ARAJAY is fleeing his own little apocalypse in the form of hurricane Gustav, so his contributions are understandably delayed. But we hope to have some of his material available with the September 7th or 14th updates.
We hope you enjoy the apocalypse.
We launch today. In about 2 hours.
And we have bad, bad, eerie timing. Gustav is apparently picking up speed now, and we're all watching nervously to see how bad it will get.
Several of our collaborators are in New Orleans or other areas that are expected to flood. Some of their contributions will be understandably postponed. Please keep them in your thoughts, and lend a hand to your neighbors to the South in whatever way you can.
Tuesday, August 26
Wednesday, August 20
Belknap Springs. You park at the hotel and start wandering the trails in the woods behind it. Suddenly you come upon two stone pillars, and peering between them you see what must be the Garden of Eden. The sun finds a break in the clouds to shine down and spotlight a beautiful garden.
As I was taking off my shoes and socks to wiggle my toes in that beautiful green grass, a girl of 4 or 5 stared at me with wide eyes. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Cassie," I told her. she started to walk away, but I said, "What's your name?"
She ummed and ahhed and took a very long time to answer. Maybe she was making something up. Or maybe she'd just remembered she wasn't supposed to be talking to strangers.
Finally she said, "Emma."
"That's a pretty name," I told her, but my head was already thinking of poor Emma that went crazy and fell through her ceiling while playing with dolls in the attic. I wonder if the little girl took so long to answer because she was looking for a name to pick out of my brain.
Funny how things start to come together, following the ley lines.
Monday, August 18
Cross-posted from the Little Apocalypse MySpace.
We've been asked a few times now:
WTF is a hypertext novel?
A hypertext novel, for our purposes, is a novel broken up into little bits and scattered across multiple webpages. Readers then use hyperlinks to move through the pages like a maze. Hypertext novels have been around as long as the Internet. Check out this wikipedia entry for a little bit of history and links to some of the classics.
So, while hypertext novels aren't anything new, we think ours does stand out from the others out there. Why? For one, the fiction pieces included could (and have) stand on their own. While some hypertext fiction emphasizes form over content, we think the form should reflect the content. Molly & Zim are zig zagging across the country; links zig zag across the site. One event sets several others in motion; one page in the novel links to multiple other stories. Worlds overlap; paths overlap. In life, some things grow out of control, some things fall apart, some things start to show a little wear - all of this is underlined by the structure of the site.
Little Apocalypse is also unique in the way it jumps across mediums. What began as a series of short stories now includes original artwork and music, is being considered as the basis for a couple of art shows and at least one musical act, and is being promoted in some fairly unique ways (like one-of-a-kind, handmade postcards and fake cell phones scattered throughout Eugene).
The biggest difference, though, is our use of Creative Commons licensing. This is an alternative to rigid, traditional copyright protection that allows others to participate, copy, redistribute and base derivative works on any material included in Little Apocalypse. You can send stuff to us to be considered for the site itself, participate in our MySpace or blog, write for the wiki, or create your own sites and projects and link back to us. It's all perfectly legal under Creative Commons, and it promotes collaboration in a way that certain industries wish was impossible. (I'm looking at you, RIAA.)
Does that answer the question? ;)
Friday, August 15
Agriculture and industrialization let the Earth support far more of us in any given space than she would have previously tolerated. With our amazing tools, we've lowered the death rate to as little as 7 per 100,000 in some areas. The population grows exponentially. To a large extent, we've beaten death.
We've also beaten natural selection and evolution. Or, at least until we reach the next limit. Until we get to that plateau where the Earth simply won't support us without that next great leap in technology. If it turns out to be a technological leap at all.
Failing that, we may be reminded that evolution only occurs when vast numbers of creatures are born and quickly die in an environment that can't sustain them. It takes death and destruction to birth or build anything better. It's going to take an apocalypse. This one won't be so little.
Thursday, August 14
Wednesday, August 13
This is what the workshop looked like last weekend:
Let's play a game. Click the image above to see the notes I've added. Then add your own notes to anything that amuses you. There is so much fun stuff on the floor.
There's something else we need you to do, too. Share this blog and our home page, littleapocalypse.com, with your friends. We'll do a link exchange on this blog for any sites that seem relevant. (Yes: paranormal and fiction sites. No: sites selling diet pills.)
Little Apocalypse is creative commons and open to contributions, so get in touch with us if you want a sneak peek at the dev site. And if you're not ready by August 31st, no problem, the project continues afterwards. We'll be looking for writers who can help us build a wiki, and artists and musicians interested in bringing some of Little Apocalypse into the more tangible world.
We'll go back to our regularly scheduled programming of creepy, oblique notes and hidden messages tomorrow. See you then!
Tuesday, August 12
You may think it was helpful trying to return the phone.
Found us instead
Welcome to the thing that has kept us awake for years.
More burning drink and desensitizing candy than we can remember.
Never knowing for sure if we are just crazy.better believe it.
It would be a lie to say we're not fucking with you
8/31/08 is the beginning of the end
Monday, August 11
Tomorrow morning the stars fall. We should head for the edge of town. It's going to be beautiful watching it all come down.
The Perseids peak tonight. I have a wish for each one. There are so many beautiful things I will miss. I want to experience them all right now. Like there's no tomorrow.
Saturday, August 9
To recognize something has begun is admitting it will end.
Everything we put together will ultimately fall apart.
Hope is a misguided feeling brought about to reach a goal that is unattainable.
Sometimes these ideas are romanticized into little stories that are nothing more than tripe and relatively
not worth the readers time.
Can't see pass tomorrow
Thursday, August 7
Wednesday, August 6
The old writer watches the world as it fades like the black in her eyes.
Do you want to play this game?
You already know the ending.
There are no surprises here.
I sense a great cabal.
The roaches have left the walls and are laying eggs in my head.
Don't fear the black cat!
She'll lead you to the Western Lands without fellaheen involvement.
The old writer doesn't have the words left to say good bye.
His last were
"Love. Greatest painkiller what is. Love is."
He would know. He killed his.
Tuesday, August 5
I can't imagine anyone else celebrating.
We drank champagne as Katrina hit land. It was, after all, just a few days after my birthday, I'd gotten a bottle of bubbly, and then, thanks to the evacuation, found myself with friends in town from New Orleans. For the most part we weren't that concerned yet. Mother Nature regularly displays her awesome power in the South, and sometimes we just yawn at her.
(Dear Edouard - I am unimpressed.)
So at first, this was just another mandatory evacuation. People were instructed to flee the city regularly, and nothing but gas expense usually came of it. This time, surely, was the same. We had no doubt that it would all still be there in the morning. We opened champagne.
Levees began to break. Some leaked and some popped open like corks. I think it was kind of like that. That's how it looked on TV. That's how it looked on my friends' faces.
I don't know exactly why, but lately I wish I had kept that bottle. It seems important somehow, something solid and heavy to wrap your hands around while so much else disappears. While so much else is set in motion and we're all swept away. And if nothing else, I could have used it to send you a message across all that water.
Monday, August 4
Connections are being made
"If you don't come with me right now you'll look back for the rest of your life and regret it."
"A woman who died 40 years ago was discovered in her apartment that had not been changed in all that time."
How could no one notice?
"The list of substances he was used to having in his body was longer than he could remember by now."
You know your nipple's pokin' out there, doll
The reader should not be subjected to such tripe.
"I don't even need to describe that to you. You want a Stephen King fifteen page description, but I ain't got it! You don't fuckin’ deserve it."
This world is dissolving
Little by little it's going to end.
Thursday, July 31
I was expecting more. Perhaps a sleek, slim shadow following my steps just out of sight as I move from dimly lit bar to empty store front. I turn into an alley, yearning for some of that magic that is supposed to ride up from the river on waves of pulsing desire.
Too many vampire stories. Too much Lestat.
Instead I find this shop filled with glossy eyes and porcelain skin. I've never seen anything like it. A small bell tinkles as I open the door and move sideways between a little girl with curling blond locks and a prim woman who barely reaches my shoulder watching me with a brightly painted moue.
Children surround me, brown hair, black hair, curling and straight. They wear bonnets and ruffled skirts with tiny velvet slippers. Their faces tight and watchful, I move with hesitant steps among them. I am halfway across the room, trying to look at all of them yet afraid to meet so many curious, angry, sad, hopeful, condemning eyes.
The hand on my shoulder throws me forward in surprise. Stumbling around, my legs tangled in bright peach skirts, I am confronted with this city and I wish I had never asked for more.
Large callouses crest his palms and thick, bulbous fingers press tightly against the stretched column of my throat. I can't breathe right. I'm not breathing right. His face isn't pretty, his shoulders too wide, his stomach bulging as though pressed tightly from the inside.
This isn't magic. This isn't what I asked for.
Things are blurring, disassembling. A straight, solid nose seems suspended by itself, then thin lips with peeling skin replace it. They descend and everything fades again. Odd what stands out in times like this. Odd what you think important.
The buttons on his coat are thick and ragged, they sting my fingers when I slap at him, trying to pretend I am able to fight back.
Do you know what this feels like? Can you imagine? Go ahead, try.
His breath is all I notice now. I think it must be solid, to wipe across my face like this. Cinnamon. That seems wrong, but his breath is strong and sweet. When his lips meet mine, I'm scrunching my eyes, pursing my own lips and trying to move my hands from beneath his. Trapped to his chest, tight against those horrible buttons...
The doll shop. The blank night outside. The musty scent of months old dust sparring with spicy breath. He doesn't bite my neck. He doesn't whisper soft words and take me into eternity, willing, limp. He forces my body to bend, to part, to tear.
I'm tuning out now. You think I'm weak, it's crossed my mind. I am weak. But I'm not going to feel this. This isn't magic. This isn't the city I wanted to see.
Wednesday, July 23
Sunday, July 20
There are rumors about Little Apocalypse art shows in Shreveport and New Orleans. And exclusive tracks from Arajay.
Our nuclear family is totally blowing up. Join us? Little Apocalypse is covered by a creative commons license, letting you take things away and leave things behind as you wish.
Contact us to get involved. I think we need an exhibit in Eugene.
Saturday, July 19
"You push the button, and a little dude with no legs comes out and brings you your moonshine."
"While moving the world's largest rubber band to a museum by helicopter, the support breaks, transforming it into the world's largest and most destructive bouncy ball."
Sometimes it all makes sense later. Sometimes not so much.
Thursday, July 17
Thursday, June 26
I try to imagine America celebrating after vaporizing pieces of Japan, and I can't do it. I can't imagine anyone else celebrating as little pieces of America disappear, either. Perhaps I am lacking imagination.
Perhaps it's all real.
Saturday, May 3
It's an uncommonly known fact.
The parts are greater than the whole.
More now than ever before.
Maybe we just see it more easily.
Maybe it's that we can -
we can take the time to see beyond the moment.
The why. why not?
What did we do? everything wrong
Where do we go from here? We don't have that kind of control
There is more information on the map than there is in the space the map is referencing.
There are secrets in darkness.
Between the lines, if you will.
Thursday, May 1
We know we're gonna die someday. That's a fact. Everyone that lives dies. Heck, it might even be tomorrow. This is accepted. But we hope not. And we have no doubt that it will all still be there in the morning, waiting on us to get the fuck out of bed. Everyone's always surprised when it's not.
I think it was kind of like that. Given enough time, given history's example, we knew the whole thing was going under. Eventually. Probably. But not this time! No. This was just another false alarm. Everything was still going to be there in the morning.
It was not.
Live everyday like
Smashing things to pieces is surprisingly easy. Things disappear. Everyone will die. All of this came as a surprise. But I think now we know. It could all go tomorrow.
It could already be gone.