Capitalism with bacon bits!

I was raised on little light

A letter from the place where the wild things are

A poem for my moth

I’ve got seven; how many did you get?

Maybe white men are a disease?

What do you mean, that’s not a rabbit?

Looking for a way out?

This one’s for you.

Some advice on configuring your neural uplink for a glitch-free soul transfer.

What’s that thing revolving vaguely in that big swirling pot of gender?

Pictures of my winter vacation on Molovempt Alpha.

The Lions wrote their gospel in stone and skin.

A sonnet about my profound lack of coolty with No Man’s Sky’s ocean planets.

Yup, the lack of choice is a feature.

No, it doesn’t come from Russia - in Soviet Russia they don’t have pie.