WARNING: THE BIGGEST POST I'VE EVER MADE COMIN' ATCHA!

Yeap.  All five parts of The Generalist's first, uh...story?...thing.  Taboo 0: Cliché of Memories, which is NOT Taboo 1: Where's The Beef?

Because I do nothing simple, what was supposed to be a 9-page short story apparently turned into a 31-page thing.  1 week, 31 pages as edited as I ever can make 'em, all spell-checked and what-not.

Hey, if'n ya wanna edit and yerself and hook it up, feel free - all I ask is that you lemme see it first before we both post it, y'know?

31 pages, jesus freakin'...suffice it to say, THIS is why I haven't done anything else lately.  What's even worse, I have projects backin' up (The Hooligans, Project: Boyfriend, the blogs, etcetera) but my muse is already whuppin' my ass to get Taboo 1 started.

And yeah.  Beef.  BEEF.  BEEEEEF.

So anyway, time to show what's up.  I haven't written like this in, geez...years.  I'm even probably sure to piss off a person or two, but I'm fairly certain y'all will find it entertaining.

I entreat you to be as brutally honest as possible about it - does it suck?  Does it remind you of stuff?  Do you wanna claim that my homages and shoutouts aren't either homage or shoutouts but rather blatant rip-off?  Speak on it in the comment section.

But do read it, and lemme know what you think.

Sincerely,

~That Bastard

P.S. - Head over to youtube.com/thedamnhooligans and subscribe.  We'll be able to post up our one-hour podcasts as soon as we get enough subscribers (uh, what...15-30?  Somethin' like that) and Youtube let's us, but in the meantime head over to http://kaospartyradio.blogspot.com and check 'em out. :D  Vidyuh games, angry dudes screamin' loud...what's not to love?

EDIT: Apparently at font size 12, it's 39 pages.  Sorry.  I lied.  LOL.

I wonder how many of you forgot I write with the pen name of J or JDW...

Untitled 4

Don't ask, 'cuz I won't tell. <3
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I can hear it still, the fine music
The song of the day, as it plays
A song carved of sweet memory
And of bitterest cacao, this day
Sweetest balsamic, sweet as sin
And of the tea we drank that day
The tea she saw through, purest amber

I can hear it still, the sweet music
The cool, cold wind, yet never bitter
Only bittersweet, the sea air blowing
Blowing through our hair, her smile
Blowing through us, through our souls
And everything I wanted to tell her
Was right there, right there, glinting

I can hear it still, unforgettable
The music of her laughter that rang true
Of today, of today, always
And the taste of her lips, her flesh
The warmth of her close to me, in my arms
And of the sea, never cooling our ardor
But banked, always and ever smoldering