What it Is

I have proven myself a failure at being consistent. Methinks this should be a place for me. Maybe not the collected me that makes sense. More like the me that likes to be. To wonder, to plan, to think, to understand. I want to write everyday. It is my hope that this is the blog that will facilitate that goal.

I dont make any promises. You could still call this my creative blog. But I'd like to think of it more as the debris that is left behind after all the normal thoughts blow through my consciousness.

Don't expect it to always make sense or be worth your time. I think the main goal if for it to be my sanity.

Mottled Light

Mottled Light
the way my mind feels sometimes, waiting for a breakthrough.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Entry Sixty-Four

I never promised to be consistent.

The presence of this toothache makes me uncomfortable and might hinder creativity.

I did however come up with the inklings of an idea. It involved an interstellar diner. The name The Cancer Cafe came to mind. As did a character named Thrasher Doobian.

Ha. A collection of short stories. All about a human who works at The Cancer Cafe as a cook and moonlights as something. I haven't decided yet. Perhaps a private detective. Or maybe a bounty hunter. Or both. The point is, You'd be surprised at how much information can be gleaned from the customers at a restaurant like The Cancer Cafe.

Thrasher is a tall and fairly gangly man (but don't let that fool you. He fights like rabid ferret protecting its territory. But don't think that he LOOKS like a ferret. It was just a personality comparison). He has bright red hair and blue eyes. More often than not clean shaven, though he did sport a good looking goatee years ago when he
was still on the intergalactic police force. Yeah, he used to be a cop. But there was an incident. He was on an undercover case with three other officers trying to take down one of the biggest drug cartels in the Milky Way galaxy. According to his account, he got cocky and careless. Long story short, the bust was a failure and the other three officers lost their lives. Because of this and other PLANTED evidence, Doobian was wrongly accused of working with the cartel and kicked off the force. He was shamed into hiding from all he knew and moved out of the Milky Way and eventually ended up working at The Cancer Cafe.

Through chance he had the oppritunity to keep some of his detective skills sharpened. He couldn't help it. Those cases were begging to be solved. And you hear a lot about shady dealings in a place like The Cancer Cafe. Doobian solved a few of these cases and found that it helped him cope. Now, through word of mouth, you can hear of the amazing skills of Thrasher Doobian and call upon him if you want a case solved under the radar or just don't trust the proper authorities.

In an attempet to sitck it to those who ruined his life, Doobian also works as a small transporter. Smuggler is another term for it. Small things. Nothing huge. And all very hush, hush. He found he was good at it since he intimatly knows the inner working of the intergalactic poliece. He was able to transport things quite easily. This was his petty and self pitying revenge. But it brought in extra cash.

Thrasher Doobian has enough money to live pretty, but instead spends a lot of it on high tech equipment to make his dealings easier. The rest he saves up for a time he will leave and go some place far away where he never has to hear about the intergalactic poliece again and where noone knows his name.

So that is the general idea. Like I said. Short stories. Like episodes. I blame it on a few things.

-Watching Psych
-Watching Star Wars
-Working at Bob Evans

Okay. Later.