James Cavin Writes

In which Grit the Quill does not die alone.

In which I lose my manuscript, and have to rewrite it all from scratch.

A tiny bit of Vim for you today! Just a morsel really, but I have been very sick.

Happy Friday! For those of you to whom reality provides an insufficient amount of psychedelic, grave-robbing shenanigans amongst the rusting hulks and inhuman powers of the fallen future, I have another slice of Vim! ...Poor Grit the Quill is out of the snake-siege and into even greater insanities.

I've got another bit of madness for you! For some reason, I've been in kind of a swordfish mood lately… (Is this what being trapped in an artistic rut* feels like?)

Some more Vim for you, fresh from the fetid jungles of the imagination!

( Read Part Two here. ) I don't normally post first drafts of personal writing, but I submitted an in-progress short story for last week's Operation Garbage Fountain , and, as per my agreement with fellow garbage-fountainier Lars Doucet , I am contractually obliged to write about it online.