Fucking Star Wars Galaxies. I don't play but my brother has decided to start. This leaves me with less than an hour on my own per night[0] as he sits at his desktop watching shitty graphics and listening to shitty sound effects. Including one of the Star Wars blaster that makes me want to jam a rusty fork into his ears. Not only is it the most annoying fucking sound ever to be repeated inanely, it also has the nasty property of completely derailing any train of thought I happen to be on.

So out comes the VNV Nation. Future Perfect is setting connections going in my brain. A different cyberpunk to the antilibertarian political thing brewing, but still cyberpunk. Kult dragged into the new millennium, cyberpunk reality with a gnostic backdrop, the escape from the planet the ultimate metaphor for escape from the illusion. Rediscovery of manned space flight reignites the sense of wonder that's been missing for so long and gives the shadows some light to strive for. Or something. I'm being poetic again, unfortunately.

In other news, I'm working on a static fiction index. Not that it appears that anyone would want one[1], but it's another bit of pre-massive-site-overhaul work that I want to get done. Watch this space.

[0]: Some time this millennium I shall get the laptop fixed/upgraded
[1]: The comment-addiction rears it's ugly head again. Excuse me while I mutilate it.