My blog is a true and honest kin of Cthulhu now. It is HUGE and sleeping and when it rumbles, it makes people weep and castrate themselves, drowning in gentle flows of urine and Ukrainian mail-order bride brochures. To translate Damagetalk back to English, I am not lost, just busy with everything else. The admin board is full of half-finished articles about violence, splendorous eyecandy and loose, loose women. I’m leaving the wondrously prestigious but otherwise completely deadpit place I’ve called my job for two and half years and I’m back to sharpening my freelancing and other mad mind skillz I was told to neglect. Two of my three storage drives have siphoned themselves through with arduous work to a Nirvana where you have clouds of porn, porn and wu shu. Those two terabytes also included eight years of photographs, creative writing, scripts, ideas. Basically I’ve lost most of my past. The people who know about this are concerned that I have not yet kicked cute animals into blood jellies. Instead, I’m now working on occult methods to retrieve data from thin air and old acquaintances’ mailboxes. The admin board is full of half-finished articles about violence, splendorous eyecandy and loose, loose women.