by Savana Delacroix



I’ve had more Moby in my life in the past two weeks than I seemingly have in years. It started with a trip to the musician’s Destroyed photo show at the Kopeikin Gallery in Culver City. A collection of large format audience shots taken from the stage, each print captured the sweaty, ecstatic and sometimes confused (or perhaps just high) expressions of concert goers under a kaleidoscope of lighting. The almost fish eye effect to each photo gave the prints a surreal aesthetic. As we carefully studied each giant print, my friend and I developed a very fun game called, “Where is this audience from?” As usual, the Americans seemed to be the easiest to spot.



Moby, part deux came courtesy of Peter Hook’s show at the El Rey. Performing with his band Peter Hook and the Light, the former Joy Division and New Order bassist tackled the entire Unknown Pleasures album with aplomb. Joy Division are truly one of the rare holy grails in music, a band everyone tries to sound like but few can truly do justice to. I’ll be honest, my expectations going into the show weren’t exactly high and thankfully, they were far exceeded.



Hook roared through favorites like “She’s Lost Control” and “Shadowplay” with ferocious determination. When he brought Moby out on stage to tackle guest vocals on a number of tracks, my brief bit of hesitation was met with surprise when an eerily Ian Curtis-like voice barreled out of the bespectacled musician. Someone standing behind me turned to their friend and quipped, “Moby’s a great Ian Curtis cover artist… who knew?”



As the evening wore on, Hook pulled out additional catalog classics like “Transmission” before ending with “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” To be quite honest, I often listen to so many of their other cuts that I had forgotten about their most popular track. As the opening chords of “Love…” began, the audience turned into a sea of flailing arms. It truly seemed like an immense sense of joy had enveloped the whole room. This is a generation who never got to see Curtis perform these seminal tracks live yet, for one night, were able to gloriously relive the magic.



Peter Hook and the Light photos: Michi Tsunoda

by Blogbot



Artist / SG Member Name: James Curtis a.k.a. jimcurt99

Mission Statement: I just want to share. I started drawing as a sort of therapy; I really would go insane without it. After a while I discovered I could make people happy by drawing them, so that's when I started doing strictly fan art. In the last year I've met some of my very best friends here, and I'm gonna keep drawing until I can't draw no more.






Medium: Colored pencils, watercolor pencils, ink and acrylic paint.


Aesthetic: Very precise modern sort of art deco. Alphonse Mucha is my hero.


Notable Achievements: Getting comments like: "I have never felt so special or pretty in my ENTIRE LIFE!!!!!!!!!"

Why We Should Care: You wouldn't be reading this if you didn't already care.


I Want Me Some: More lovin’–– that's all I want.







Thanks to Jules Schreiber a.k.a. SG member JulesDoll for nominating Jim!

***

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by Blogbot



This Sunday (September 25th) our special in-studio guests will be Kidneythieves, who'll be previewing their forthcoming release, The Invisible Plan.

Listen to SG Radio live Sunday night from 10 PM til Midnight on Indie1031.com

Got questions? Then dial our studio hotline digits this Sunday between 10 PM and midnight PST: 877-900-1031

Busy on Sunday? Then find all our podcasts at http://suicidegirlsradio.blip.tv/ and listen at your leisure.

And don't forget to follow us on Twitter.

About Kidneythieves

When multi-instrumentalist/producer Bruce Somers and singer/songwriter Free Dominguez met in a Los Angeles restaurant in 1997 to see if a musical union was in the stars, he brought to the table a background in industrial rock ala Nine Inch Nails and metal ala Rage Against the Machine. She came in with more of an affinity for hip-hop, trip-hop, and beat-music, along the lines of Tricky and Portishead.

Together as Kidneythieves, the duo's blended backgrounds make for a cutting edge electronic industrial offering that had Seventeen magazine squealing, "If Trent Reznor had a female alter ego, it'd be Free Dominguez," Billboard raving that they are "as menacing as the urban legend from which they took their name," and All Music Guide declaring the group an "industrial menace that knows when to show its sensitive side."

"We came in from these two different musical places but where our points of interest collided, and what we bonded over musically, was in more of the groove stuff like Massive Attack and Portishead, and it's in this intersection of interests where we've been able to carve out a unique sound for ourselves that's constantly evolving," says Bruce.

After 14 years of musical bliss that saw the release of three critically-acclaimed full-length records, three EPs, one live record, and thousands of incendiary live shows headlining venues as well as opening for KMFDM, The Used, Tommy Lee, Sevendust, and others, Kidneythieves have created what they deem their finest musical offering yet with their new EP, The Invisible Plan, featuring five songs of pure unadulterated musical mayhem set for release on October 18th via their own Crooked Wood Music.

"We felt after Trypt0fanatic it was a lot of heavy songs and we always liked the balance of heavy and light - contrast is a big part of what we do," says Bruce. "So we wanted The Invisible Plan to go a little more to the electronic side - a little less guitar, a little more experimenting with different types of keyboard sounds, and more texture than the obvious guitar sounds. The result, for me, is that this is one of the best things that we've done. It's something new - it's loud, but groovy, with an amazing story and amazing lyrics."

The concept of The Invisible Plan is a continuation of the storyline that began with Kidneythieves' debut 1998 record, Trickster. "Every album has a story thread that leads into the next," explains Free. "The story coming out of Trypt0fanatic is discovering how to use the dream in waking life for survival. The Invisible Plan is putting that into action: Living your life so that things find you, and changing the pattern of events around you. It is ‘invisible’ because in order for the power to not dissipate, you have to keep it to yourself, and find others with this same mutual understanding — a group of people fighting the good fight to make the world better. It becomes this unspoken thing, this Invisible Plan, what we need to master our lives here and deal with everything in a positive way."

Link Love
http://kidneythieves.com
http://facebook.com/kidneythieves
http://twitter.com/kidneythieves
http://youtube.com/kidneythieves

by A.J. Focht



The next round of DC's New 52 has just hit stores, making it a perfect time to recap last week. Who knows, you might get to the store and decide to pick up one of last week’s issues today. That's if you can find them. While most reviews of the comics have been pitched somewhere between 'mediocre' and 'alright,' the comics themselves are flying off the shelves. Comic sales all around are being boosted by the popularity of the New 52. This sudden burst of interest is likely to die out when we get to the second issues. There is just something about owning a first printing of a first issue that really gets the nerd juice flowing. Anyways the lesson here is, if you think you want one of the new comics, and it's available, get it now; it likely won't be there when you change your mind (as happened to me with Superboy #1).

Putting the critical vs. commercial success of the comics aside, many of the issues took to handling lingering problems in the DC Universe. For those readers expecting to come in to an entirely new reboot, it is a bit of a shock to learn there is still so much backstory being consolidated in the wake of Flash Point. Issues like Green Lantern #1 come straight into an already active story line, and are not as friendly for new readers. Whereas Batwoman, possibly the best drawn of the available New 52, can only tackle fragments of the active story because they needed to catch readers up. (Which I will note, they did very nicely.)



Some of the comics are handling it better than others, a fine example being Suicide Squad. After so much outrage over Harley Quinn's outfit on the cover, the comic turned out to be a pleasant surprise for many. It was one of the few that felt like a real origins story, making it accessible to even the newest readers. Aside from the unnecessary body trimming performed on Amanda Waller, this was my favorite comic of the lot.



As if the release of so many simultaneous first issue comics was not enough, it seems DC intends to keep pushing the boundaries. Almost as if in response to Marvel's introduction of an ethnic Spider-Man, DC has announced a new openly gay Mexican as an edition to the Teen Titans. Miguel Jose Barragan, or Bunker, is DC's first flamboyantly gay superhero, and unlike most homosexual superheros, Bunker embraces his sexuality at all times.

That wasn't the end of the week’s news from DC either. Moving forward with the recent trend, DC Universe Online will be getting a free-to-play model. Starting in October, DCU will be joining the ranks of the free-to-play MMO.

With all the buzz around DC in the last few weeks, it's odd to think that any DC related news is being held back. But it turns out that Christopher Nolan isn't as eager to share his story as the rest of the DC world. Word is that Nolan is refusing to write the ending to The Dark Knight Rises on paper. Wanting to keep the internet safe from ending ruining spoilers posted by evil twits with nothing else to do with their time (a.k.a. people like me), Nolan is only sharing the ending verbally with select cast members. While this is probably a great idea, I'm going to continue to assume it involves Bane breaking Batman's back, or critically injuring him in another way (at least that's how it should end).

Leaving the superhero news behind, this past week was a big one for gamers as well. The release of Gears of War 3 was the icing on the cake following the Tokyo Game Show. From previewing the new 3DS Second Slide Pad to more details and screen caps on the PS Vita, the TGS featured it all. For more info, hit Kotaku's complete TGS coverage.

The constant coverage of any talk surrounding the new Evil Dead has left us knowing only one thing for sure, we have no idea what to expect. First it was thought to be an addition to the series, and then a reboot of the first movie. Now the latest reports say that it won't even have the character Ash Williams. I'm kind of pleased to hear that Bruce Campbell will forever remain our Ash, but if Ash isn't the lead in the reboot, can it even be called a reboot? Right now it's looking more like a modern revisiting rather than a direct reboot or remake.



Do you constantly find yourself wishing there was something on cable to watch? Fans of The Simpsons may soon not have to worry about that dilemma. The longest-running prime time scripted series in America may be getting its own channel. That's right, The Simpsons reruns 24/7, it's almost enough to make me want cable again.

One final tidbit to really shake you down to your nerd-core: William Shatner has decided to share his views on exactly why Star Trek is better than Star Wars. He inspires a rather disturbing mental image, when he talk of uniting the two rivals. Not sure I’m ready to witness him and Carrie Fischer (Princess Leia) hooking up for some sweet intergalactic lovin'.

by Bob Suicide

It's a mantra that's been around for as long as I can remember: "Be nice to the geek in class because, one day, they'll be rich/own the company you work for/rule the world.” Harassed and ostracized by those in the more popular crowds, us geeks served as a cautionary tale; Don't let your bullying go too far because you'll pay for it later when the geeks inherit the earth.

And inherit the earth we have. But not quite in the glorious way we imagined.

Geek-tastic movies filled with superheroes and heroines have topped the box office, our conventions are over-flowing with fans, and everyone on the street collects and wears the geek-chic swag. We've ignited a mainstream love for comics and sci-fi, and helped line the coffers of the major comic book houses and movie studios along the way. But we’ve also done something a little more important; we’ve inspired a new generation of scientists, mathematicians, astronomers, and archaeologists.

And while Hollywood is able to market "geek" to the masses, the scientific community is also learning how to market both natural and social sciences to a public that is generally very wary of the S-word (“science” is literally a word meaning "knowledge" –– but somehow that’s threatening).



Most recently, a group of gamers are being heralded as saviors by the scientific community thanks to a protein folding game posted on Fold.it. The Foldit puzzle was created to add a third dimension that a microscope slide couldn't provide. Targeting a monomeric protease enzyme, a cutting agent in the complex molecular tailoring of retroviruses (including HIV), Foldit allowed gamers to use their honed-by-Tetris spacial skills to create a 3D image of the protein molecule. As a result, scientists can better understand the molecule's structure, how it causes many diseases (including HIV), and how to create drugs to properly inhibit these proteins.

While much of the press is spinning it as though "mere gamers" were able to solve a complex puzzle (in just 10 days!) which had previously stymied scientists for year, I like to think of it a different way. This "citizen scientist" movement is a brilliant symbiotic relationship that should be nurtured. In the case of this specific Foldit puzzle, scientists needed spatial reasoning from a human that a computer alone couldn't provide. Meanwhile gamers love exciting challenges that provide more of a sense of accomplishment than a spot on a leader board. Indeed the players of Foldit appear to share my sentiment. The final piece of the protein puzzle was solved by someone with the user name "mimi" who wrote an email to MSNBC in support of the game,

"The game is not only an interesting intellectual challenge,” notes mimi, “but it also provides a unique society of players driven by both individual and team rivalry with an overall purpose of improving the game and the results achieved."

This is people coming together to advance science and, in turn, to advance humanity. It isn't just a one-off project either. There's a deep and exciting "citizen science" movement making the rounds and there are other scientific puzzles that need our particular brand of geeky help. Here’s just a couple of examples:



Ancient Lives

This puzzle game works to decipher the Oxyrhynchus Papyri discovered in 1896. Due to the nature of papyrus and the age of the documents, mostly fragments have been found. Piecing the fragments back together then deciphering their contents would be a monumental task for even the most skilled team of researchers –– that's where the game comes in. Linguistically inclined geeks can identify Greek symbols using a keyboard.



Galaxy Zoo

If first-person shooters are more your style, you can play Galaxy Zoo and hunt for Supernovae. When presented with three images -- new, reference, and the subtraction --the gamer determines whether they've found a white-hot supernova in their cross hairs.

***

While public interest in our geek culture might wane, this surge in popularity is providing lasting contributions to the scientific community. So let's get over our hang-ups, and try to encourage it wherever we see it, even if it appears kind of "off" or "fad-ish." Interest is interest. And maybe the next time you see someone taking a child's DS away in favor of more so-called “worthy” pursuits, let ‘em know their child's interest in gaming might be the key to curing cancer or unlocking the connection between quantum mechanics and general relativity. Essentially we need to spread the word that it’s OK to let little tikes "game on."



***

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By Theodore O. Lawrence


[“You pees on my rights?! I pees on your face!”]

A federal class action lawsuit was filed on Wednesday by the American Civil Liberties Union charging Linn State Technical College with violating their students’ right to privacy by forcing them to submit to drug tests. At this publicly funded university, even attendees with clean academic and criminal backgrounds are made to undergo urinalysis at their own expense, which could potentially reveal other private medical conditions such as pregnancies and current prescriptions. This is information that students have a right to protect according to the ACLU. Though the policy was halted by order of a Federal District Court Judge just a few hours after the suit was filed, the case is yet to be decided and could represent a wider change in thinking about the way universities can treat their students.

“This case goes beyond Linn State. We filed our complaint in federal court not to just stop Linn State, but to stop any other college that thinks they can drug test their student body,” writes Will Matthews on the ACLU blog.

This new policy requires all first-year students as well as those returning after a semester or more of absence to pay $50 for the test. Those testing positive after their first go around will be required to re-submit in 45 days. If the results are positive again, students will be dismissed without even the benefit of a refund on their tuition fees.

This is a highly contentious issue. Conflicting statistics range from a 6% reduction in drug use for schools using mandatory drug testing (Institute of Educational Sciences) to an increase in drug use by 2% (Monitoring the Future). This begs the question: Is mandatory drug testing even effective in the first place? Urinalysis screenings are designed to map certain trace elements remaining after the breakdown of target substances. A SAMHSA 5 panel, for example, tests for 5 drugs (marijuana, cocaine, amphetamines/methamphetamines, opiates and phencyclidine) by taking two samples of urine. A preliminary immunoassay on one sample is conducted and if markers for any of the five drugs are found, the second sample is submitted to a gas chromatography test to confirm the presence of any markers indicating drug use.

These markers are called metabolites and part of the reason for the ineffectiveness of mandatory drug tests is the nature of metabolites themselves. In the case of almost every drug on the panel except for marijuana, the metabolites disappear within as little as 12 hours to as long a week. THC, on the other hand, metabolizes slowly through the break down of fat stored in the body and is detectable up to 45 days after consumption, arguably making the least dangerous substance the only one urinalysis effectively detects. And with the right preparation or access to clean urine and a Whizzinator, almost anyone can pass a drug test, even monitored. This makes urinalysis less a test for illegal substance use than a marijuana detector, which isn't proven to succeed at deterring anyone from using drugs in the first place.

Regardless of the greater civil rights ramification, these tests are unfair, and raise concerns even for those who don’t to drugs. In order to prevent the incursion of false positives (the presence of target metabolites due to non-illegal substances), a complete medical history is required from the participant. Students therefore need to be questioned on everything from headache pill use to birth control, and involves revealing personal information that typically remains between a doctor and their patient. This represents a civil rights outrage affecting students across the state and, depending upon the outcome of the trial, publicly funded universities nationally.

“This is an invasive policy that requires people to submit to tests that reveal private and intimate things like medical conditions or whether they are pregnant that people have a right to protect,” said Anthony Rothert, legal director of the ACLU of Eastern Missouri in a recent press release.

If colleges are really concerned about the welfare of their students, providing access to substance abuse counselors and drug awareness education in the classroom have been shown to be cheaper, less invasive, and quite possibly more effective ways of tackling drug dependency issues.

Linn State Technical College had claimed that their mandatory drug testing policy was motivated by safety concerns due to the heavy machinery some students use. However, many of those that were required to take these tests had no contact with such machinery as part of their coursework. In addition, many accidents can be blamed on fatigue and stress rather than on substance abuse, so alternative safety measures, such as PC-based performance tests that cheaply calculate a person’s ability to maintain their baseline scores, would be better employed.

Given that this is a clear infringement of civil liberties and privacy, and that the burden of expense is being passed on to the student body, the ACLU hopes that the first public university to require mandatory drug testing of students will also be the last.

Rothert adds, “A person’s privacy should not be invaded like this, especially when they have done nothing wrong.”

by Ryker Suicide

Ryker Suicide in Perfect Smile
(Warning: The chili peppers in these tacos might blow you pants off!)

Ryker Suicide’s Mahi-Mahi Tacos with Red Cabbage Slaw, Avocado-Tomato Salsa and Pineapple Hot Sauce

Ingredients (makes 16 small tacos):

• 4 Mahi Filets (about 8-10 oz each)


• Salt and fresh ground pepper


• Citrus Vinaigrette (recipe follows)


• Corn Tortillas (or flour, whatever is your favorite)


• Red Cabbage Slaw (recipe follows)


• Avocado-Tomato Salsa (recipe follows)


• Pineapple Hot Sauce (recipe follows) or your favorite fruit infused store bought hot sauce

Preparation:
Preheat grill and brush filets with canola/vegetable oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill about 3-4 minutes each side. Remove from grill and sprinkle with Citrus Vinaigrette. Let rest for 5 minutes to let fish absorb vinaigrette and flake with fork.

Fill each tortilla with mahi, red cabbage slaw, avocado salsa, and drizzle with hot sauce.

Eat and enjoy!!
XOX



Citrus Vinaigrette Ingredients:

• 3/4 cup orange juice


• 1/4 cup lime juice


• 1 cup fresh basil leaves, chopped


• 1 cup fresh cilantro leaves


• 1 teaspoon kosher salt


• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper


• 1 heaping tablespoon honey


• 1/2 cup canola oil

Preparation:
Combine ingredients in a blender and blend together.


Red Cabbage Slaw Ingredients:

• 1/4 cup rice vinegar


• 1 tablespoon sugar


• 2 tablespoons canola oil


• 1/4 head red cabbage, finely shredded


• 1 large carrot, cut into fine julienne


• 1/4 cup chopped cilantro leaves


• Salt and pepper

Preparation:
Combine all ingredients in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper to taste


Tomato-Avocado Salsa Ingredients:

• 4 plum tomatoes, chopped


• 2 ripe Hass avocados, peeled, pitted and diced


• 1/2 small red onion, finely chopped


• 1 Serrano chili pepper, finely diced


• 1 to 2 limes, juiced


• 2 tablespoons canola oil


• 1 to 2 teaspoons honey


• 3 tablespoons chopped cilantro leaves


• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:
Gently combine all ingredients in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper to taste.


Pineapple Hot Sauce Ingredients

• 1 ripe pineapple, preferably Golden pineapple


• 2 tablespoons canola oil


• 1 large Spanish onion, coarsely chopped


• 1 container frozen pineapple puree, thawed


• 2 habanero chili peppers, chopped


• 1 cup rice wine vinegar


• Salt and pepper


• Honey

Preparation:
Grill pineapple and char. In a pan saute onions until translucent then add rice wine, and habanero. Cook for a few minutes, add puree and cook 5-10 minutes, then blend together with rest of ingredients.


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by Blogbot



Misfit the Chihuahua mix and Delphi the Chiweenie

(pictured with their mistress Kemper Suicide)

• INTO:
  Misfit –– barking at inanimate objects, being a pet-whore, being anywhere Kemper is, car rides, my ball. 

  Delphi –– Being fat, getting itched in those hard to reach places, eating, chasing bugs, stealing whatever toy Misfit has.


• NOT INTO:
  Misfit –– Being petted too hard, baths, Kemper leaving, people coming to the door, cars passing on walks.

  Delphi –– Allergies, sneezing, being fed late, having my tail touched or pulled by strangers.


• MAKES US HAPPY: Kemper coming home, getting let into the house when someone comes home, chasing each other through out the house.



• MAKES US SAD: Being apart
.


• HOBBIES: Chewing up the ball, rearranging our beds, prowling the backyard.


• 5 THINGS WE CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT: Benadryl (for Delphi), belly rubs, spikey collars, nap time, snuggles.


• VICES: Destroying the dog beds in the garage, pulling out Kemper’s computer cords on accident, barking.


• WE SPEND MOST OF MY FREE TIME: Lounging and cuddling.

Above: Misfit (pictured with Kemper Suicide)

by SG's Team Agony feat. Rin

Let us answer life's questions - because great advice is even better when it comes from SuicideGirls.


[Rin in Voyeur]

Q: My girlfriend just broke up with me recently after four years of dating and almost a year of being engaged. I never thought this would happen but she just up and left for reasons she would never tell me.

With all that behind me, my real question is what to do now? I have tried going out to meet people but with no luck. I have tried online sites but they seem just as bad as going out for meeting new people. I do have a few friends around but just find myself so lonely all the time. I work from home which doesn't really help. It’s a good job working on computers and I make great money, but it doesn't help me meet people at all. I just don't know what to do with myself and find myself fighting loneliness all the time.

A: Regrouping after the breakup of a long-term relationship can be very difficult. The first thing to address is your loneliness. You've mentioned you work from home and make a good income. If you don't already have one, you should purchase a laptop and take as much of your work outside the house as possible. Even if it's just for an hour or two a day, hanging out in a coffee shop and working will give you a nice dose of people. Choose a pleasant coffee shop, even if it's out of your way. Maybe it's in the neighborhood you want to live in, or maybe it just has a great atmosphere.

When you're lonely, it's important to reach out to your friends. They care about you and want to see you happy –– try to make two or three friend outings every week. Good friends are the backbone of getting through a breakup.

Because you work at home and are in a low place right now, you should consider adding some physical activity to your weekly routine. Exercise releases all sorts of beneficial chemicals in our brains, like serotonin and endorphins. Cultivating a feeling of wellbeing will definitely help with your loneliness and put you in a good place for when you do meet someone new. Joining a gym would be the easiest step, but you could also try yoga, team sports, or just go running in your own neighborhood. Lifting weights at home would also do the trick, though it doesn’t have the added potential social benefits.

Since you just got out of a relationship, give yourself some time to recuperate before you stress about meeting someone new. Make new goals -- find things you can achieve on your own. Spend time figuring out what makes you happy, then do it! In a long-term relationship we can lose ourselves and it can be really empowering, when single, to find out what we want to do and just do it without worrying about the repercussions.

Maybe she was against you getting tattoos; maybe she didn't like it when you went out with your friends and came home late; maybe she hated it when you played your favorite album on repeat for three hours straight. Now is your time to do whatever the fuck you want without needing the approval of another person. Discover the good parts of being single. It sounds contradictory, but it's true! Sometimes being single is fun.

Hope those suggestions are helpful to you!

Rin

***

Got Problems? Let SuicideGirls’ team of Agony Aunts provide solutions. Email questions to: gotproblems@suicidegirls.com

by Steven-Elliot Altman (SG Member: Steven_Altman)

Our Fiction Friday serialized novel, The Killswitch Review, is a futuristic murder mystery with killer sociopolitical commentary (and some of the best sex scenes we’ve ever read!). Written by bestselling sci-fi author Steven-Elliot Altman (with Diane DeKelb-Rittenhouse), it offers a terrifying postmodern vision in the tradition of Blade Runner and Brave New World...

By the year 2156, stem cell therapy has triumphed over aging and disease, extending the human lifespan indefinitely. But only for those who have achieved Conscientious Citizen Status. To combat overpopulation, the U.S. has sealed its borders, instituted compulsory contraception and a strict one child per couple policy for those who are permitted to breed, and made technology-assisted suicide readily available. But in a world where the old can remain vital forever, America’s youth have little hope of prosperity.

Jason Haggerty is an investigator for Black Buttons Inc, the government agency responsible for dispensing personal handheld Kevorkian devices, which afford the only legal form of suicide. An armed “Killswitch” monitors and records a citizen’s final moments — up to the point where they press a button and peacefully die. Post-press review agents — “button collectors” — are dispatched to review and judge these final recordings to rule out foul play.

When three teens stage an illegal public suicide, Haggerty suspects their deaths may have been murders. Now his race is on to uncover proof and prevent a nationwide epidemic of copycat suicides. Trouble is, for the first time in history, an entire generation might just decide they’re better off dead.

(Catch up with the previous installments of Killswitch – see parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE. and SIX – then continue reading after the jump…)



[THE KILLSWITCH REVIEW – CHAPTER TWO, PART THREE]

[GENERATION ZERO]

[Previous Chapter / Next Chapter]

Night was no cooler in NewVada than the day had been, and the climate control on the crowded beltway wasn’t working. It was well past rush hour. While a number of Conscientious Citizens still went about their business, younger, somewhat rowdy JCs were in the majority, taking advantage of the time to legally belt around the city. Too many conversations were going on around them for Haggerty to continue his discussion with Regina, so he sweltered along until she tugged him toward the exit loop that ramped them off at Fremont Boulevard, on the edge of the Vegas Black Light District. When Haggerty queried Regina as to how far they were going, she grinned.

“It’s actually pretty far inside,” she said as they were deposited onto street level. “Not scared, are you? I promise I’ll protect you.”

Haggerty shook his head. BBI frowned upon agents openly visiting the area of the city with most of the unlicensed vice dealerships and the least surveillance. What happened in the Black Light typically stayed in the Black Light. The Triads, NewVada’s last organized crime leagues, had seen to that with regular police payoffs. Haggerty knew that the platform surveillance scanners prevalent throughout most of NewVada would record his arrival, but given his plans he was not worried about being called in for questioning simply for entering the area.

“Actually, I’m surprised you’d come to Vegas,” he told Regina.

“Because they used to call it Sin City?” she said. “I’m not planning to do anything particularly sinful.”

“Most folks on the Religious Right feel that even supporting the legitimate businesses in Vegas somehow furthers an immoral agenda.”

She surprised him again. “But I’m not on the Religious Right. The two words don’t automatically go together.”

“That wasn’t you at the Ban the Box rally today?”

“That’s the only issue I agree with them on. Doesn’t mean there are others. For instance, as far as I’m concerned, Conscientious Citizens can do whatever they like in their own bedrooms. Saint Paul said that love is of God, so how can human lawmakers dictate the way people express their God-given love for one another? And when it comes to teaching intelligent design and sex ed, I’m about as far left as you can get. Yes, I believe in God and have strong ideas about His will — for my life and for humankind. And while I may not approve of everything that goes on in Vegas, I understand why people come here. As long as laws aren’t being broken, if people need a place where they can party hard to find relief, where’s the harm?”

Haggerty drew her attention to a huge pyramid fronted by a replica of the Sphinx. “That place used to be one of the most famous casinos in Vegas, back in the days when the worst you could lose here was your shirt and there were plenty of counselors from Gamblers Anonymous and the like to help minimize the damage. Now it’s mainly a residence for people who never got off the strip. This place isn’t as harmless as you seem to think. In the new casinos, damage seems to be the whole point.

“Things are difficult for a lot of NewVadans,” Haggerty continued. “And the dicier casinos prey on that. People are lured with the promise of dramatically improving their lives by chance, but more often than not, they wind up being driven deeper into poverty. And poverty all too often equals death.

“I had a case here a few years back, involving an unlicensed casino where people could bet their lives for a mere one thousand credits. It’s completely illegal, but that didn’t stop it from happening. The man involved had been driven to take those odds, and he lost. The establishment called in his debt, and he was encouraged to press in front of a paying audience of so-called CCs, who enthusiastically cheered him on. My review led to some arrests — observers whose images were captured on the recording as well as the management of the casino — all of whom got off on a technicality. The man had made his bet of his own free will, and then pressed of his own free will. Aside from a fine for running an unlicensed gambling parlor — the cost of which could be made up in an hour or two of play — no one but the man who pressed and the family he left behind suffered any losses.”

“So they got away with it,” Regina said glumly.

“I suppose so,” Haggerty admitted. “But that case and a few uncovered by other reviewers inspired a number of legislative actions statewide, and got our wonderful City Council off its collective butt long enough to pass an ordinance prohibiting organizing or profiting from a press done as public entertainment.”

“That’s something, at least.”

Gambling was not the only thing for which Vegas was known. Garish signs and glitzy holograph projections boasted an array of services in lurid, multicolored lights as they made their way down the old strip — CHANGE YOUR FACE WITH YOUR MOOD! 30 MINUTE MAKEOVERS! (a plastiche parlor); HIDDEN SEXCAMS INSIDE THE HOMES OF YOUR FAVORITE CELEBS! FREE PRIVATE INTERFACE! (a cybercafe) — outrageous promises of quicker and cheaper diversions than those offered by their legitimate counterparts outside the Black Light, and less picky about legalities. Shooting galleries guaranteed their drugs rivaled the quality of anything offered in Amsterdam, OR YOUR CREDITS BACK! As if their patrons were in any position to go to Holland and compare, then file a complaint at home that they’d been victims of false advertising.

Regina turned off the boulevard, into a dark alley.

Haggerty stopped in his tracks. “Where exactly are you taking me?” he called after her.

She trotted back. “It’s just a few doors down,” she said, playfully taking his hand. “I promise it’s safe.”

Haggerty considered tapping his com and putting a pulse out to Elsa, just in case, then decided not to. If Regina meant to kill and rob him, well death was what he wanted so why did the how matter? Haggerty relaxed.

Not far into the alley they came to a large hypersteel door set into a faux concrete wall, the only marking a sprawl of glowfitti above it that read ORPHANAGE. Barely audible retro-trance music blasted into a din as Regina pulled open the door. The sheer volume was enough to make Haggerty wish he’d declined her invitation. She tugged him down a poorly lit, crusty staircase lined with faux velvet.

The place was actually an oversized boiler room, packed with underage Junior Citizens — all beautiful and half-naked, their flesh and hair stained and stickjeweled in fantastic colors and patterns, their fists hammering up and down to the backbeat.

“Don’t worry,” Regina said into his ear, her small hand still cupped around his. “There’s nothing illegal here, no alcohol or drugs. Even if there were, no one could afford them. Don’t sweat your CC status.”

“That’s not what makes me sweat,” he said. If possible, the room was hotter than the night outside, where it had to be over a hundred degrees.

Regina led him across what felt like hard, coarse pavement — it was too dark and crowded to see the floor beneath them. Haggerty glimpsed something odd, set up beside the boilers. He craned his neck to get a better look as Regina pulled him along. There in an overcrowded basement in the middle of the desert, a young boy, his golden-orange hair streaked with red and spiked to resemble a bloody, exploding sun, stoked glowing embers with a hand trough in a makeshift forge, the kind ironworkers used when there was still iron to be worked!

Regina released him as they reached the dance floor, raising her arms and swaying to the music as she led him through the throng of JCs to the bar, such as it was. Looking at the crowd around them, Haggerty realized that a lot of the skinpainted designs weren’t at all garish or bright. Many were black, white, or gray deathheads and gargoyles, worms and ravens, rather than Regina’s fanciful iris. She leaned across the rough planks that served as the counter and spoke to a shirtless boy with sweat dripping down the spider painted in the center of the web inked across his chest. He reached below and extracted two plastic bottles from a cooler.

Regina turned to Haggerty and called, “Six creds.”

Haggerty handed her the credits and accepted one of the bottles. The label read Cafblast, but the liquid inside was clear.

“It’s just water,” she told him. “They recycle the bottles themselves.”

“Tap water?” he asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, don’t be such a snob,” she teased. “You’re fully geno-immunized, I’m sure.” Regina unsealed her bottle and took a long pull, then recapped it and licked stray drops of moisture from her lips. “None of us are, and we’re drinking it.”

Haggerty took a swig. Why should he care about pollutants? The taste was unpleasant, but it soothed the stifling heat, however momentarily.

“Whattaya think about this place?” Regina asked him.

“It’s a dump,” he said.

“Exactly,” she said. “A dump in the worst part of town. And it’s the only type of place Gen-Ohs can afford.”

“Gen-Ohs?”

“Short for Generation Zero,” she said bitterly. “If you do the math on CC status achievement rates and factor population control curbs, it’s clear we’re gonna be the first American generation that has basically no chance of reproducing ourselves one-for-one.”

“And less than one is zero,” Haggerty said.

Regina saluted him with her water bottle and took another deep drink. “Add to that the fact that data farmers and code monkeys don’t earn a helluva lot, and you wind up with this.”

Haggerty recalled a recent viewcast about the aftermath of birth restrictions in China during the previous century. The circumstances, the narrator reported dispassionately, were of course vastly different in China from anything facing Junior Citizens in present-day America, and such horrors were unlikely to be repeated. Looking at the JCs around him, Haggerty wondered.

“Do you have kids?” Regina asked him. “Frightened they’re hanging out in places like this?”

“No,” Haggerty answered, scratching the back of his neck before finishing his water.

She gave him a speculative look, and he braced himself for another brazen interrogation. He was about to change the subject when a shrill cry of pain pierced through the roar of the music. His training as an official triggered; he cut a swath through the crowd to investigate, pushing kids out of his way until he arrived at the source of the scream, then stood still, shocked.

A girl several years Regina’s junior stood leaning next to the forge, hands splayed against the wall as the orange-haired boy pulled a smoldering branding iron away from the bare flesh of her back, leaving her skin blackened. The acrid stink assaulted Haggerty. The girl moaned, looking behind her with glazed eyes at the boy with the brand, her face dripping sweat. There was no blood loss along the weltmarks left by the iron, the brand having at once caused and cauterized the wound.

Haggerty was about to step forward when Regina caught his arm, moving close and saying, “That’s blisterbranding. It’s legal. Didn’t you know how it was done?”

“Who’s next?” the boy said, pointing the brand at Haggerty. “How ’bout you, oldster?”

Kids queued up by the forge. Haggerty suddenly understood why none of the JCs had seemed distressed or tried to intercede. They regarded this spectacle as normal, unremarkable. That some legislative body had actually condoned such a practice appalled Haggerty. He took one more look at the girl’s burns, then pushed past Regina and headed for the bathroom he’d noted earlier.

He stood trembling at the sink, grasping the edges, his eyes swimming with silverfish, then twisted the ancient manual faucet marked COLD. A thin stream of lukewarm water trickled into the basin. He splashed water against his face, pale in the pockmarked mirror.

“You okay there?” a voice beside him said. It belonged to a well-dressed young man with ash-colored hair slicked back off his forehead, who held out a handkerchief to Haggerty.

Haggerty’s fingers brushed the edge. The handkerchief didn’t have the usual slick synthetic feel. It was soft, with a subtle sheen to the fabric. He took a closer look. It was silk, probably as costly as his viewscreen. He pulled his hand back.

“Go on, take it,” the young man urged. “There’s no paper in here and the jetdrier’s broken. Just trash it when you’re through. I’ve got a drawerful of ’em at home.”

The kid appeared whipped on Sky or some similar drug. Haggerty accepted the handkerchief. If the kid’s parents could afford to supply him with a drawer full of them, they weren’t apt to harangue him if he misplaced one. The silk felt cool and soothing against his face. “Thanks,” he said, clearing his mouth with tap water then wiping his face again.

In the mirror he saw the young man relieving himself at the urinal. His clothing set him apart from the other Orphanage patrons half-naked and sweating on the dance floor. He seemed cool, despite the heat of the place and the contemptuous opulence of a jacket made of real leather that ought to have been intolerably warm. If he was in any way uncomfortable, nothing in his manner betrayed it. Perhaps this could be attributed to the Sky, or some similar drug, that Haggerty detected in his eyes. Whatever the reason, he looked almost as out of place here as Haggerty felt.

“Wanna hear a funny story?” the kid asked when he’d finished his business.

“Sure,” Haggerty said.

“Once upon a time we were warned that Four Horsemen would deliver the Apocalypse.” He counted them on his fingers. “War, Famine, Pestilence, Death. We insulated ourselves from War, then did away with Famine and Pestilence, and that let us get the better of Death — we kicked his ass and made him our bitch. But you know what?”

“What?” Haggerty asked, throwing the ruined piece of silk into the bin.

“I think Death’s a sore loser, and he’s red as hell, and he’s about to get back on that horse — and make everyone his bitch,” the kid said as he washed his hands in the sink and pulled another bit of silk from his back pocket to dry them with. “And you’ll be surprised at how happy we are to have him back.”

He smiled a wasted smile and waved as Haggerty pushed open the door and left the restroom. Haggerty considered the kid’s Sky-whipped fantasies as morbid as the death-themed skinpaintings sported by the other JCs and their horrific self-mutilations. He’d had enough of the Orphanage.

Fortunately, Regina was where he’d left her in the dimly lit room. She was talking to a too-thin girl around her own age, who was trying to hand her something. Regina shook her head no, refusing the offering. The other girl shrugged and headed toward a table a few yards away, where someone large and obviously male waited for her, but that was all Haggerty could discern. Regina turned and, seeing Haggerty, smiled, then frowned as she got a closer look at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m leaving, you do as you wish,” he said, waving the question aside. “What was that all about?” he asked as she gripped his arm and ushered him back toward the stairs.

“Traci? She’s one of my roommates,” Regina explained. “Someone’s giving away tickets to the game tomorrow, and she thought I should have some plasticine strips.

“Free tickets to the most anticipated Superbowl in years?” Haggerty said skeptically. “They gotta be counterfeit.”

“Probably,” Regina agreed. “Since Gen-Ohs can’t afford the real thing, someone’s always producing counterfeits to one event or another. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.”

They were passing the forge now, where a boy screamed to the kiss of burning metal. Haggerty clenched his teeth and moved away quickly. Up the strip and onto the beltway, he said nothing. He breathed deeply, trying to get the stench of burned meat out of his lungs, to purge it from his mind. Regina respected his silence.

“Why would they brand themselves?” he finally asked.

Regina was thoughtful. “They’re fucked, and they know they’re fucked,” she began. “The odds are against them, for jobs, children, even happiness. That has a sort of numbing effect, ya know?”

Haggerty did know.

“And when you’re numb to the world, to yourself, and you’re not feeling anything — feeling nothing at all — you go to extremes. You hurt yourself until the pain rushes in and tells you you’re alive.” Her tone turned flippant. “Besides, it’s the latest in celebrity fashion. No more dangerous than getting pierced or tattooed.”

He looked at this pretty young stranger beside him who was part of a generation he clearly did not understand. He considered telling her that even oldsters with jobs they’d held for decades, not making way for younger folks, didn’t always have it easy. That not everyone gets a break making it possible to afford a huge compartment with a god-awful big viewscreen. That he had only been so rewarded after a long, difficult apprenticeship. But what was the point? She’d find out for herself.

“You haven’t — ”

“No way,” she said. “Skinpainting like this” — she indicated her iris, stickjewels meant to represent dewdrops twinkling in the light — “can be removed with plastiche in less than an hour. But burns that require surgical procedures to repair? No, thanks. My body’s a temple.”

“Good,” he said, unaccountably relieved.

“But I have to say,” she went on wistfully, “when done right it looks really cool.”

They approached the intersection dividing West. “You’ll be safe here,” Haggerty said. “It was a pleasure — ”

“Can I see your place?” she asked.

“Regina — ”

He was wavering, and they both knew it.

“This is the only chance I’ll ever get to see how your half lives,” she cajoled. “I’ll stay five minutes and then you can send me home in a taxi. I promise.”


* * *

Excerpt from The Killswitch Review, published by Yard Dog Press. Copyright 2011 Steven-Elliot Altman.

Steven-Elliot Altman is a bestselling author, screenwriter, and videogame developer. He won multiple awards for his online role playing game, 9Dragons. His novels include Captain America is Dead, Zen in the Art of Slaying Vampires, Batman: Fear Itself, Batman: Infinite Mirror, The Killswitch Review, The Irregulars, and Deprivers. His writing has been compared to that of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton and Philip K. Dick, and he has collaborated with world class writers such as Neil Gaiman, Michael Reaves, Harry Turtledove and Dr. Janet Asimov. He’s also the editor of the critically acclaimed anthology The Touch, and a contributor to Shadows Over Baker Street, a Hugo Award winning anthology of Sherlock Holmes meets H.P. Lovecraft stories.

Steven also bares ink on his body, and is bi, as in bi-coastal, between NYC and LA. He’s currently hard at work writing and directing his latest videogame Cursed Love, an online free to play gothic horror RPG from Dark Hermit Studios, set in Victorian London. Think Sherlock Holmes, Jack The Ripper and Dorian Gray mercilessly exploit the cast of Twilight. Friend Cursed Love (Official Closed Beta) on facebook and you can have fun playing out this tawdry, tragic romance with Steven while the game is being beta tested!

Diane DeKelb-Rittehouse spent several years in Manhattan as an actress before marrying her college sweetheart and returning to the Philadelphia area where she had been born. Diane first worked with Steven-Elliot Altman when they created the acclaimed, Publisher’s Weekly Starred-Review anthology The Touch: Epidemic of the Millennium, in which her story “Gifted” appeared. Diane has published a number of critically acclaimed short stories, most notably in the science fiction, murder, and horror genres. Her young adult fantasy novel, Fareie Rings: The Book of Forests, is now available in stores or online.

Interested in buying a printed copy of The Killswitch Review? Well, Steve’s publisher Yard Dog Press was kind enough to put up a special page where SuicideGirls can get a special discount and watch a sexy trailer. Just follow this link to KillswitchReview.com and click on the SG logo.

* * *Related Posts:
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One, Part Two
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One, Part Three
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One, Part Four
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter Two, Part One
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter Two, Part Two

by Dina Gachman

You know that old song, “Take This Job and Shove It?” The one sung by some dude named Johnny Paycheck, about a man fed up with working long, hard hours for a lame fat-cat boss? A few months before I got laid off, when I was in the la-la land of believing my job was super secure, I started thinking about that song. See, I felt lucky to have a job in this economy, but I wanted out. I was sick of working for “The Man,” whether that man was a woman or a dude or a tranny, didn’t matter. I felt trapped. So I started humming that Johnny Paycheck song, sadly realizing that when that song was popular, people could have those fantasies of telling a boss to “shove it!” and strutting out of the office smiling, head held high, knowing there would be another, better job right around the corner. These days? Not so much.

We can’t really tell our bosses to shove it. We have to hold on, sit tight, and pray we don’t get laid off even though we secretly, maybe even desperately, want out. I hummed that song quietly, wishing I could strut giddily out of the office like I was living in some sappy 80s movie with a rollicking soundtrack and poufy-haired actors. I hummed it until they shoved me, right out of my job.

I’m sure a lot of you know the drill. Boss calls you in. You have that queasy feeling because if you aren’t just a little paranoid about losing your job in this economy you’re possibly delusional. You sit facing your poker-faced boss. You KNOW what’s coming. For me, even though I wanted out of what I was doing, I felt sick. I felt scared. Confused. And, deep down, kinda excited. But mostly queasy. And a little betrayed. I’d never been laid off or fired before. I had worked my ass off for two years, what the fuck?! I had just gotten a freaking raise and promotion! I was dispensable? After all that? Yep. Welcome to my new reality.

My boss said they were “restructuring the department.” I just love this veiled corporate lingo. The queasiness started to give way to little bubbles of excitement that were floating into my consciousness. OK, so I wouldn’t have a paycheck. Or health insurance. Or an expense account. Or a neat little swipey card to get me into the building. But… I would have FREEDOM!

I stifled a Cheshire cat sized grin and asked, “I’m not sure what to do here. Should I pack my stuff and get out? Or go back to work?” I was having celluloid inspired fantasies of weepily packing a bankers box with my “personal effects,” (of course there would be a sad little plant poking out the top) as colleagues passed by my desk saying how awful and unfair it was, them laying me off, where was their loyalty?! Etc etc… But that’s what happens in the movies. This was, of course, real. We didn’t have any bankers boxes. And I didn’t have a plant.

My boss told me to “work” the rest of the week, so I could get all my vacation days (pretty cool of her I must say). But once I walked out of her office it was real, real hard to go back, sit at my desk, and do any sort of work for this company that had shoved me out. I sat there, staring at the phone, at my laptop and post-it notes and the piles of scripts and books and DVDs I had accumulated over two years, stunned. I had no clue what to do, but hearing the big bosses on their oh-so-important phone calls, going about their business, just pissed me off. So I stood up, shut down my laptop, grabbed my purse, and left.

It was gorgeous, warm and sunny in Los Angeles and I rolled down the windows, blared Wolfmother, and texted all my friends in Venice who were either also unemployed or freelance, who I knew would be able to meet me for drinks, lots of drinks, at 4 PM on a Tuesday! I was part of their club now! The “I can do whatever the hell I want, like sit by the beach and have a weekday beer while the sun is still out!” club. The “I can sleep past 6:30 AM!“ club. The “I can wear pajamas all day!” club.

Ah, I was so naïve then, in those early days of laid-off-ness. Little did I know that just around the corner lurked things like dealing with the EDD first thing in the morning (if you’ve gotten unemployment “insurance,” you know EDD all too well –– I just love it that on the form they call it your “unemployment insurance award,” like it’s akin to getting an Oscar), getting parking tickets you can’t afford because your car USED to be parked in a secure garage every weekday, freeing you from thinking of evil things like street cleaning. There’s also the strange phenomenon of suddenly having every waking hour free. At first that prospect is amazing –– you can do whatever the hell you want –– but eventually, if you don’t learn to be productive and create some sort of schedule, you may just find yourself –– after 2 PM drinks with your other unemployed friends –– flipping through Us Weekly and watching things you never watched before, like Millionaire Matchmaker and Monster Quest, slipping into a minor depression, wondering if you’ll end up waiting tables again after getting a debt-heavy masters degree and having a fancy title like “executive.” But all of this came later. Those first few days of freedom reminded me that even though my job was secure, it wasn’t what I truly wanted to do with my life. Maybe my new years resolution of “I will leave (insert name of company here) this year” actually came true, only they did it for me. The universe does work in funny ways like that, as they say.

When you’re newly laid off I think it’s important to give yourself a week or even a few weeks to just BE. To relax and take a deep breath and not stress about the fact that it is utterly impossible to get through to the EDD to ask them about your unemployment checks. This is very difficult, I know. One lesson I learned: forget about calling the EDD. And don’t try to be sneaky by calling the Vietnamese number, hoping you’ll get a bilingual person on the line. They don’t pick up either. Just email the fuckers. They’ll get back to you… eventually.

So at first I celebrated my new identity as a free agent, and thought of all the things I could finally do, now that I had the time, like WRITE. I went to the beach. I read Vogue and Elle and any old mindless thing I could. I started cooking again. I was feeling pretty great. Positive even. Like the world was mine to explore! Then my 93-year-old grandfather, Big Papa (yes, really) called. I picked up the phone and sauntered outside into the sunlight to have what I was sure would be an encouraging pep-talk type conversation. I mean, he was my grandfather, right? Family is supposed to lift us up and make us feel real good, right? The conversation went something like this:

Big Papa: “So I heard you got laid off honey.”

Me: “Yeah, a few days ago. But I think it’s a positive thing really.”

Big Papa: “Honey?”

Me: “Yes?”

Big Papa: “Do you have any hope?”

Me: “Um…”

I guess, in retrospect, that was a pretty fair question.


***

Dina Gachman was born and raised in Texas. She hightailed it to California as soon as she turned eighteen. The longer she lives away from Texas, the more she loves her home state (she can’t seem to move back there, but can’t seem to stop writing about it either).

She writes Bureaucracy for Breakfast, along with film reviews and things, for lostinasupermarket.com under the name “The Elf.” Why The Elf? Long story…just accept it.

She also writes the occasional little ditty for Heeb Magazine, H Texas Magazine and the Santa Monica Mirror.

Like Bureaucracy for Breakfast on Facebook and follow Dina on Twitter.

by Blogbot


[Above: Portrait of AnnaLee Suicide]

Artist / SG Member Name: Eric daStone / lagrangian_point

Mission Statement: I don't have a mission statement as such, I just like to paint. However, when I first started to paint seriously I tried to paint things that you don't normally see. This was quite literal back then, painting skeletons, muscles etc, on figures while trying to maintain a life and soul to the figures.

More recently, I have become fascinated with quantum and particle physics -- that matter is in fact energy and vice versa -- and that everything is virtually made of nothing. I try and paint this reality, although I don't think I have come close to succeeding yet. Ultimately I try and paint interesting, soulful images.



Medium: Predominately oil paint on stretched canvas/linen, although I experiment in any 2-D image medium: photography, drawing, cg and video.

Aesthetic: Dark, surreal, gothic.

Notable Achievements: I am always pleased if someone finds a painting interesting, and am blown away when someone parts with cash for one.

Why We Should Care: I have always tried to develop a unique style, and hope my paintings are just a little bit different from anything else you may have seen. After that, it's all down to personal taste...



I Want Me Some: All my work is on my site TheLostArt.co.uk. If you’re interested, you can email me at: Eric@TheLostArt.co.uk


[Above: Portrait of AnnaLee Suicide]





***

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by Aadie

A column which highlights Suicide Girls and their fave groups.


[Suicide Boy Barium in Lines]

This week, Aadie Suicide takes a closer look at Suicide Boys.

Members: 3,416 / Comments: 31,758

WHY DO YOU LOVE IT?: Naked boys! There are some gems in there!!



DISCUSSION TIP: Positivity is key. No negatrons.

BEST RANDOM QUOTE: “Barium’s a babe!”

MOST HEATED DISCUSSION THREAD: What Do Girls Want To See?

Some thoughts on the subject include:

WHO’S WELCOME TO JOIN?: Everyone!!!!!!! (Especially potential Suicide Boys!)

***
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by A.J. Focht



Last Wednesday saw the first big batch of DC's new 52 released. Reviews were as mixed as they were for Justice League #1 the previous week. A few of the comics were praised here and there, but there seems to be one clear winner for the week. Animal Man #1 has caught everyone’s attention, and I have yet to hear a bad word about it. For reviews on all of last week’s releases, check out Nerd Bastards' full report.

Potential major *SPOILERS* for The Avengers have been leaked. If you don't want to know who the big secret villain is, just skip the next paragraph.

With so much history surrounding the comic worlds these days, it's not surprising to see comic museums popping up to preserve it. The Comics and Animation Museum in Hangzhou, China will put the rest to shame with its unique architecture alone. The design for the $125 million museum consists of eight interlocking speech bubbles that will allow text images to be projected onto the outside. Inside the balloons, visitors will walk along spiral walkways running up and around the balloon as they see the exhibits.



Speaking of preserving the past, Spielberg fans can rest easy knowing that he will not be making any changes to our favorite classics anytime soon. After the changes to the Star Wars series on Blu-Ray were discovered there was first a mass controversy, then the inevitable nerd rage, and finally the hilarious internet jokes about it. While we've come to expect such horrid changes from George Lucas (which include Vader's added “Noooo!” and Greedo shooting at Han), Spielberg has assured us he learned his lesson after changing E.T., and that any future re-releases of his films will contain only the original versions.



Does everybody remember those awesome self-lacing sneakers from Back to the Future? Well Nike released 1500 pairs of shoes, inspired by them for auction at nikemag.ebay.com. Proceeds from the limited edition sneakers will go to the Michael J. Fox Foundation to help in the fight against Parkinson's. While I would love a pair myself, prices skyrocketed to well over a $1000 in the first day.



More zombie news crept up on the internet this week. New posters, and teaser trailers for The Walking Dead were just released. There has also been some leaked footage from World War Z floating around. With Halloween just around the corner, expect an infestation of zombie related news, promos, and spoilers for the next month.



Zombies aren't the only things with a taste for human flesh that are invading your TV. French studio Guamont has put a Hannibal Lecter TV series into development. With shows like Dexter getting so much acclaim, it was only a matter of time before we started seeing more serial killers on prime-time.

Nintendo held their big press conference leading up to the Tokyo Game Show. With several announcements concerning the 3DS, the majority of the news boils down to: 3DS owners helped Nintendo beta test a product. To late after the fact, Nintendo has realized that the 3DS has several bugs and is making some necessary changes, biggest of which include an accessory for a second circular slide pad. The accessory will require its own AA batteries, making it a money drain right there. Unless you really want one, I suggest waiting for Nintendo to realize they need to just revamp the unit, and built the second pad in.

One last bit of news for everyone, remember Gliese 581 g? It was that supposedly habitable planet found a while back, well recent signs point to it not existing. But don't worry to much about that, HD 85512 has been discovered to take its place. HD 85512 is a super-earth (20x the size of earth) in its solar system's habitable zone. Based on early information, the planet has all the potential to carry life that earth had. So once we get around to breaking light speed, and developing intergalactic travel, we might have a place to go (assuming we don't decimate the Earth before then).

by Jensen

I tried to recreate these amazingly delicious mozzarella phyllo dough stick things from my favorite restaurant at a town I used to live in, and I failed miserably. Deciding I needed to try something different with my second roll of phyllo (fillo, whatever), I figured you can’t really fuck anything up when butter, chocolate, and peanut butter are involved. So I made up this baklava type concoction that would surely piss off any old Russian grandma. It’s super easy to make, you just have to be delicate with the dough. And it might be a little bit tedious.

What You’ll Need

• About 3 sticks (1 1/2 cups) salted butter


• 1 cup peanut butter (I used the kind with honey)


• 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips


• 1 roll of phyllo dough (it’s in the freezer section of most grocery stores)


• 4 tablespoons of sugar


• 1 tablespoon of cocoa powder


• A rectangular pan

Phyllo dough is basically paper thin, almost flavorless pastry dough. Since it’s so thin, it is very delicate and dries out easily. You need to work fast. Not OMGINEEDTOHURRYORITISRUINED fast, just don’t stop to smoke a bowl or something while the dough is sitting out. So step one, unroll the dough and lay it out on a clean surface. And preheat your oven to 350.



You need three bowls to fill with the various ingredients. Bowl one: 1 cup peanut butter and about two tablespoons of butter, microwaved until melted. Bowl two: 1 cup of semi-sweet chocolate chips, microwaved until melted. Bowl three: three sticks of butter, minus the two tablespoons you added to the peanut butter, microwaved until melted. Nom!



You’re going to begin layering the ingredients into a bar, inside of the pan. There is no easy way to write out the order I used, so I just wrote it up in a very obnoxious and tedious fashion. Try to spread the ingredients out as evenly as you can, but keep in mind you have to be delicate or you’ll rip the dough. Ripping the dough isn’t the end of the world or anything, but it’s best to try to avoid it! The layers that say “butter” are just enough butter to get the dough wet; about 1 tablespoon. I found it easiest to spread the butter with my finger or the back side of a spoon.

So, the order is: butter, dough, butter, dough, butter, dough, peanut butter (half of the peanut butter mixture), dough, butter, dough, butter, dough, chocolate (all of the chocolate), dough, butter, dough, butter, dough, butter, dough, peanut butter (the remaining peanut butter), dough, butter, dough, sugar butter (this is just butter with two tablespoons of sugar sprinkled over it). Then alternate dough and butter until the entire roll of dough is gone. Top with a little bit of butter, two tablespoons of sugar, and one tablespoon of cocoa powder. That last part is optional, but it makes the bars pretty ;]. So if you don’t want to buy cocoa powder, don’t trip potato chip.



Bake it for about twenty minutes, then rotate the pan and bake it for another twenty minutes. It should be light golden brown when you take it out of the oven.



Let it COMPLTELY cool (actually, just keep it in the refrigerator like I did) and then cut it into two inch squares. They are super rich and delicious and amazing and heavy, but I wouldn’t recommend cutting them any larger than that.

And that, my friends, is how I gain five pounds.

See you guys soon! Sorry I suck at blogging on a regular basis.

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Doing It With Jensen: Homemade Ice Cream Redux - Herbal Peanut Butter Edition
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Doing it with Jensen: Fried Chocolate Pies
Doing It With Jensen: Rockin' No-Sew T-Shirt Pillows
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Doing it with Tara: Fluffy Balls
Doing It With Tara: Guess Who
Doing It With Tara: Chocolate Bacon Frostin
Doing it with Tara: Mutual Rasterbation
Doing It With Tara: A Very Cheesy Tutorial
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by Blogbot

Feat Rocky, Cookie, Belle and Zakk (pictured with their mistress Leandra Suicide).



Rocky the Tabby

• INTO: Hugs, cuddles, love, sleeping, people/cat watching, just sitting here.


• NOT INTO: Loud noises, strangers and being alone.


• MAKES ME HAPPY: Snuggling and food.


• MAKES ME SAD: Being alone.


• HOBBIES: Nothing.


• 5 THINGS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: Cuddles, Mummy, my siblings, food and TV.


• VICES: Licking hair and chewing magazines.


• I SPEND MOST OF MY FREE TIME: Sleeping.

Cookie the Tortie

• INTO: MOTHER! Playing, messing with the other kids, catnip, cuddles, nose licking, and bed time.


• NOT INTO: Not much, I don't like strange people.


• MAKES ME HAPPY: Mother, catnip, laying on my Mother, being petted, and showing off.


• MAKES ME SAD: When my mother leaves the house.


• HOBBIES: People watching and staring.


• 5 THINGS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: Mother, catnip, nose licking attacks, watching movies with my mum, and drinking water from the sink.


• VICES: Sink drinking.


• I SPEND MOST OF OUR FREE TIME: Crawling all over my mother. I am extremely attached if you had not noticed!

Belle the Medium Hair Tuxedo

• INTO: I don't know. ZAKK and my toys?


• NOT INTO: I don't know.


• MAKES ME HAPPPY: Who knows?


• MAKES ME SAD: What's going on?


• HOBBIES: Huh?


• 5 THINGS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: Rocky, Cookie, Zakk, Mummy and BELLE!!!


• VICES: Say what?


• I SPEND MOST OF OUR FREE TIME: Acting insane and mildly scary.

Zakk the Russian Blue

• INTO: I am just getting into cuddling at night, laying on my mum’s feet and stealing her blanket. BELLE!!


• NOT INTO: Loud noises and being picked up.


• MAKES ME HAPPY: Belle, running around aimlessly, and love.


• MAKES ME SAD: Not much.


• HOBBIES: Cuddling, snuggling, sleeping, and eating.


• 5 THINGS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: Love, my brother and sisters, my mum, food, the sofa, and blankets.


• VICES: Blanket stealing, and sink drinking.


• I SPEND MOST OF OUR FREE TIME: Sleeping! What? I'm a cat, it's what we do!

by SG's Team Agony feat. Bailey, Rashel, and Vanessa

Let us answer life's questions - because great advice is even better when it comes from SuicideGirls.


[Bailey in Breakfast of Champions]

Q: I recently got out of an abusive relationship and I feel like I still can't escape it. I moved three states away when everything disintegrated. He broke up with me via text message, in the same apartment, no less. We had lived together for two and a half years, and he was my life. Things got rocky towards the end, but as I was sexually abused and made to feel like my feelings weren't valid, I came to accept that this was my path.

It's been four months now. As soon as I moved away it was like a lightbulb came on and I realized that I was one of "those people" who deny and deny the abuse to themselves. It took distance and a broken heart to realize what I had wasn't a relationship. I don't know what it was, but it was not a relationship.

I'm glad to say I'm now in a wonderful, healthy relationship with a great guy. He loves me for who I am, and he knows about how my ex treated me and understands my trust issues and reservations. I am head over heels in love with him, and have been focusing all my energy on myself, firstly, and secondly, our relationship. I wasn't giving my ex a second thought, until tonight.

I found out that my ex has deleted and blocked me from all his social networking sites. This is something I was considering doing myself a few weeks ago but I couldn't bring myself to click the right buttons. I feel like I'm back at square one. This has made the end more final to me. Why am I upset about this? It’s just Facebook and Twitter –– this shouldn't bother me at all. Plus, I am ridiculously happy with the man I am with. I definitely don't want anything to do with my ex. I guess I'm just not okay with him deleting me from his life in such a brusque way, but honestly I wouldn't want him involved as a friend either.

I'm just struggling with a lot of conflicting emotions right now. Half of me, my sensible side, is telling me to get over it, and it's better now that there are no more constant reminders of his presence. But my other half, my heart, is telling me to nurse my wounds. Asking myself why he wants to know nothing about my life, why it's so easy for him to erase me from any associations. Am I so easy to discard?

I don't really know what I'm asking for here, and I've never asked for advice like this before. I'm an internalizer for sure... I guess I'm just seeking some guidance or a helping hand. I'm struggling to understand my own reaction, and that unsettles me.



A: Congratulations on getting out of a shitty relationship and into a great one! Even though you have moved away and moved on externally, the breakup is still only four months old, so it makes sense that your inner wound is still healing. Don't judge your feelings.

Honestly though, your ex did you a favor. Why would you want any connection with someone who abused you? You were right in wanting to have done the same yourself weeks (if not months) ago. You never followed through. Why is that? Perhaps if you had you’d have felt like you controlled the situation, as it is, this is one last hurt he has done to you, which is perhaps why it still stings. I think you need to focus on YOU, and why YOU couldn't have hit the 'block' buttons yourself.

Take your focus off of HIM, how he blocked you, why he blocked you, and feeling hurt. Take control of your emotions and focus on why you were unable to take him 100% out of your life. This is how you will learn and grow as a person, allowing you to grow and learn in your new relationship.

Good luck and godspeed,

Bailey

***


[Rashel in Gentle]

Q: I don't know what to do. I've been with my boyfriend for four years and we now have my 14 year old daughter from my first marriage living with us. We used to bonk like bunnies when we first got together but for the last couple of years our sex life has diminished. It's not that I don't enjoy having sex with him, I do, but it feels like that's all he ever wants from me.

If he's got a hard on, its time for sex, and if I don't comply he gets angry and throws a fit. I'm just not in the mood and don't feel close to him like when we were first together. He's always working, sleeping or making plans with his friends. I feel like our family is the last thing on his mind. He doesn't understand we can be intimate in other ways. He doesn't really try to get me in the mood. I'm tired from working graveyard, being a mom, softball, and all he cares about is sex. It's a total turn off. What do I do?

A: First of all you should be honest with yourself, do you really need him? It seems that this man doesn't need you – except for sex. So what's a problem? It seems that he's tired of the relationship, takes you for granted, and wants to spend more time on his own and with his friends than with you.

Given his anger when you don’t comply with his sexual demands, I take it talking is not really an option. At this point the relationship seems at the very least verbally abusive, and it could be time to make a break. Try to move somewhere with you daughter for a while. Do you have friends or family you could stay with?

This will give him a chance to reflect on his unacceptable behavior, and decide if he really needs you and is willing to change, be more considerate and spend more time with you. If he’s not, you should move on and find someone better, someone that will take care of you and your daughter and that can make you happy. It will be hard, but, given you daughter’s age, it’s better to make a break with a man who is proving to be a bad father figure now than later. Ultimately it’ll be a change for the better.

Good luck!

Rashel

***


[Vanessa in My Favorite Things]

Q: I'm 22 years old and a mother of a two and a half year old. I recently got married to my boyfriend of nine years and nine months. He is also the only person I've ever had sex with –– I lost my virginity at 17.

So here's my question: When I started being sexually active up until the time I had our daughter I was basically a nympho. Anywhere, any time, any way. But for roughly the last two years I've been totally turned off. Not by anything specific, just completely. I feel really bad because I know he wants/needs it, but I just don't like it anymore.

Obviously I'll have sex with him but I don't enjoy it. I was just wondering if anyone else has experienced this or knows how to fix it. Also I've been on the Depo-Provera birth control and was wondering if that could have anything to do with it, or if I'm just broken. I've even told him that if he wants it he can find another sex partner. Am I just stressed out and tired from working and being a mom? Am I broken? Is it hormone production, or lack thereof? Or is it something else? I need help.

A: First of all, big hugs to you, sweetie. I think it's amazing you've been with your husband for so long, but that might also be the problem, unfortunately. Things do change over time, and it’s common for desire to wane in long term relationships.

My last boyfriend and I were together for a long time and, like you, I just stopped enjoying sex after a while. At first, we'd have sex up to five times a day. But I'd say about a year down the line, it just became the same old thing over and over again.

It's really good that you've let your partner know about it and you're not just going along with it and being unhappy inside. Is the sex hurting you? Or is it just boring? Is he doing anything to try and make you enjoy it – going down south, trying some toys, using that KY lube that's supposed to make your lady parts feel extra tingly? I mean, don't do anything you're uncomfortable with (I'm down with anything but anal –– a few guys have tried and they've been punched in the face!), but trying new things might spice things up again, and, even if it's only temporary, at least YOU will have some fun as well.

Are you masturbating? Or is that not doing it anymore either? I don't think you're "broken" by any means, but having had two children, obviously your body has changed. Also, since you’re now on birth control, that may be affecting your hormone balance. Given your concerns, I definitely think it’s worth discussing them with your doctor. That way you can rule out any underlying medical issues. You should also ask your doc if it’s worth trying an alternative form of birth control, if you feel like the one you are on may be having an adverse affect on your libido.

Once you’re ruled out any physical issues, it then might be worth trying some marriage counseling and/or sex therapy? I think you both would really benefit from that. I'm sure it's awkward, haha, but it could help to get to the core of why you're not into sex anymore.

Good luck with everything, love. I'm sure things will be better. Maybe your nympho is just in hiding for a while. Exhaustion alone can do that to a girl.

I just wish I was able to help you more!!

by Laurelin

I don’t like writing when I’m angry. I suppose there is technically something therapeutic about allowing the words to pour from your pen, furiously scribbled thoughts pressed hard into the paper rather than the controlled sentences I usually produce. I am never proud of what I write when I’m angry. I still do it every once in a while I guess; some things just need to be let out so they can be released and hopefully not felt anymore. I remember writing when my heart had been broken, when I was longing for something different, when I was so inspired by something beautiful or sad, but I do not write very often when I’m angry anymore.

When I was younger I was angry a lot. I was easily hurt and I wasn’t able to see the bigger picture. As I got older I developed a little more sense and realized that every little thing that happened would eventually pass. Each hurt that came to my life would make its mark, and each day after that it would hurt a little less, until one day it became just a memory. Some memories and aches are sharper than others, like remembering something terrible I said and didn’t mean makes me cringe, but you take it with a grain of salt. I learned to think before I speak, and that a heartfelt apology goes a long way.

Other memories, like songs, are different. There are some songs that invoke such powerful memories of certain places and people that when I close my eyes I can almost go back in time. I can smell, touch, hear certain things, some happy, some impossibly sad. When I hear “Hey, Jupiter” by Tori Amos I am 14 years old in a bed and breakfast in Stratford, England. I smell lavender on my pillow and in the sheets every time I move as I drift off to sleep. It was my last family vacation before my younger brother got really sick and the whole family was out, it was just me in this beautiful place. Lavender and Tori Amos always make me smile.

“This Years Love” by David Grey reminds me of my ex, and I’m thrown back to Chatham on Cape Cod drinking twisted teas on the porch with only the sound of the trees rustling in the moonlight and a reassuring hand on mine. I smiled when I heard that song the other day, a sad memory had finally found its place amongst the happier ones. There’s a silver lining in every failure.

I have found myself in the past few days seeking solace in my anger; I haven’t felt it in so long that I knew it had to be for a good reason. I was struggling with writing; I couldn’t concentrate. But I could think. I was angry at a guy, I know that. When was the last time I was angry at a guy? I have no idea. My ex boyfriend and I didn’t fight once in two years. I used to think it was because we were perfect for one another, but as time went on it finally clicked that it was because neither one of us cared enough to stir things up. If I was angry, I swallowed it. If he was angry, he never showed it. People wanted what we had, but secretly I knew we were headed for disaster.

Things needed to change if I ever wanted anything different. If I was upset with this new guy I had to tell him. I’m not going to make the same mistakes twice, and I shouldn’t be harboring resentment as days go by. I guess this was only healthy behavior after all, and after a few days of sitting on this problem I finally said something. And what do you know, sometimes the best part about being angry is the resolution that comes from sharing a problem, agreeing on a solution, finally getting and giving an apology. The best part of being angry is the feeling you get when you can finally smile, let it go, and know that what just happened is now only a memory.

***

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Life Beyond the Bar Scene: A Case of the Crazies
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Unsettled
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Boys of Summer
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Life Beyond the Bar Scene: How to Lose a Girl in Ten Minutes
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Naked Laurelin Reading
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Healthy Relationships are for Boring People and Other Mishaps
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Letting Go
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Does it Exist?
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: The Dating Game
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: After a Few Beers Everyone Looks Good and Other Love Stories
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Getting Naked With Laurelin
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Seven Days and Seven Nights of Sobriety
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: When it’s Time to Move On
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Starting Over and Other Stupid Resolutions
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: He Broke Up with Me on a Post-it and Other Travesties
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: The End of Four Loko As We Know It
Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Boston’s Top 5 Dives

by Steven-Elliot Altman (SG Member: Steven_Altman)

Our Fiction Friday serialized novel, The Killswitch Review, is a futuristic murder mystery with killer sociopolitical commentary (and some of the best sex scenes we’ve ever read!). Written by bestselling sci-fi author Steven-Elliot Altman (with Diane DeKelb-Rittenhouse), it offers a terrifying postmodern vision in the tradition of Blade Runner and Brave New World...

By the year 2156, stem cell therapy has triumphed over aging and disease, extending the human lifespan indefinitely. But only for those who have achieved Conscientious Citizen Status. To combat overpopulation, the U.S. has sealed its borders, instituted compulsory contraception and a strict one child per couple policy for those who are permitted to breed, and made technology-assisted suicide readily available. But in a world where the old can remain vital forever, America’s youth have little hope of prosperity.

Jason Haggerty is an investigator for Black Buttons Inc, the government agency responsible for dispensing personal handheld Kevorkian devices, which afford the only legal form of suicide. An armed “Killswitch” monitors and records a citizen’s final moments — up to the point where they press a button and peacefully die. Post-press review agents — “button collectors” — are dispatched to review and judge these final recordings to rule out foul play.

When three teens stage an illegal public suicide, Haggerty suspects their deaths may have been murders. Now his race is on to uncover proof and prevent a nationwide epidemic of copycat suicides. Trouble is, for the first time in history, an entire generation might just decide they’re better off dead.

(Catch up with the previous installments of Killswitch – see parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, and FIVE – then continue reading after the jump…)




[THE KILLSWITCH REVIEW – CHAPTER TWO, PART TWO]

[GENERATION ZERO]

[Previous Chapter / Next Chapter]

Suddenly Regina was on her knees on her chair, peering over Haggerty’s shoulder. “Oh wow, an Indran,” she whispered.

He followed her gaze to the lithe individual making her way into the cafe. The woman’s skin was the color of burnt sienna. Dark hair coiled down her back in long, wild ringlets. A simple shroud of white synthesilk neither hid nor revealed her sex. Pure East Indian descent — rare to see and unenhanced by plastiche — was obvious in half the woman’s face. Above the eye on the other side, sloping up her forehead and over her ear, a clear prosthetic window revealed a circuit mesh of blinking lights and fiber-optic neural implants inside the woman’s skull. Her presence visibly unsettled Haggerty.

“Do you know her?” Regina asked him.

“I’ve seen her here several times,” he said.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“I’m not,” Haggerty said bluntly.

In fact, the woman repulsed him. The Indranet was perhaps the only product, if such a vast information and communication infrastructure could be called a product, for which the US relied on a foreign provider. Indrans were the latest advance of the Net, and nearly two-thirds of India’s population was indentured to the United States in this manner. Though the sheer number of Indrans made them a common sight elsewhere in the world, the immigration freeze made their presence within the States uncommon. Many Americans resented them; the popular consensus was that finding an alternate resource might very well determine the future of the current executive branch of the government. Haggerty agreed that having to outsource the Net was detrimental to American interests, but he knew that few citizens would be willing to offer up portions of their own brainspace and endure the surgical procedures this Indian woman had undergone in order to underbid India and source the Net themselves.

The idea that Regina was at odds with KV technology but fascinated by this woman’s proudly displayed self-mutilation saddened him. It seemed contradictory. Perhaps Regina was too young to understand the root of the cultural divide on the subject. Though he’d been a teenager himself at the time, Haggerty remembered the riots that ensued when the American Net had been judged so corrupt it was condemned by the United Nations. Even looking back at those days from an adult perspective in his current profession, he still couldn’t quite understand why Net system-separation anxiety had fueled such an epidemic of depression and caused so many violent suicides. Personally, he’d never had use for the Net.

“She’s a bit on the abrasive side,” Haggerty finally told Regina, attempting to downplay his disgust. “She thinks that being part of the Indranet has somehow exalted her. To hear her tell it — and I’ve heard her tell it more than once — she’s over a hundred but has never needed stem or telemor treatments because her elevated neural system is enough to sustain her.”

Regina eyed the woman thoughtfully. “And that’s abrasive because . . . ?”

“It’s not,” Haggerty admitted, sipping his coffee. “The abrasive part is that she believes that what she proudly calls her ‘enhancements’ gives her the ability to predict the future, and that this entitles her to let the other patrons know what they’re in for, whether or not they want to hear it. Only after she’s done haranguing them will she settle at a table and order herself a cup of coffee. But by then the damage has been done.”

“I want to hear my future!” Regina exclaimed, and waved the Indran over before Haggerty could interject. Having sternly admonished the woman on multiple occasions, he braced himself for unpleasantness.

But the Indran merely stepped to their booth and smiled. “What a beautiful couple,” she said in a soft, tektronically enhanced Indian voice.

As guilty as he felt about what had been done to her and millions of her countrymen in the name of his own countrymen’s convenience, Haggerty could not mask his revulsion. “We were just leaving,” he told her, hoping she’d move on to other game.

“So brash,” she said with a tsk, and turned to Regina. “He’s going to be very aggressive in bed, little one.”

Regina blushed, but seemed delighted by the Indran.

“She’s not going to have an opportunity to discover whether you’re right about that,” Haggerty said.

The Indran continued to stare intently at Regina. “You’ve got mothering all around you, little one,” she said gently. “Not too far off.”

“Really?” Regina beamed.

The Indran nodded, then turned to Haggerty, splaying her empty hands out, palms up.

Haggerty reached into his pocket and pulled out five credits. “This is to leave us alone,” he said.

She placed her palms together, refusing the offering, and stared into his eyes. He realized how dark hers were. Everything was the same shade of inky black; he couldn’t tell where the iris began and the pupil ended. She looked at him, unblinking, her brow furrowed in concentration, the organic and tektronic portions of her brain engaged in a chaotic dance he could not fathom.

“Misfortune coming toward you,” she said, saddening.

“Yeah?” he said.

She ignored his sarcastic tone, taking his hand and closing her eyes. Haggerty pulled his hand back. She regarded him gravely, her dark eyes boring into his, her tektronic array alive with flashing diodes. Haggerty felt uneasy.

“You have a difficult night coming,” she said. “Difficult, and more important than you realize, with more things ending than you plan, and more things beginning than you dare to dream. I see you inside a morgue, inside a hearse, and coming to rest inside of your family’s mausoleum,” she said.

Regina tensed. Haggerty attempted to wave the Indran away. But she wasn’t finished. She bent low to whisper in his ear.

“I see you pressing a button tonight and harming yourself, and I beg you to refrain.”

That caught Haggerty’s attention. Could the Indranet actually harbor some sort of intuitive supernatural transcendence after all?

He chastised himself. The Indran’s generalizations were tricks only the gullible would fall for. Given the prevalence of pressing, it was more than likely that she would be right at least some of the time. Though he had to admire her daring “tonight.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Haggerty said dismissively.

The Indran smiled. “Thanks and blessings on both of you,” she said, once more the colorful local eccentric, and moved on to the next booth.

Regina seemed upset.

“Come on,” Haggerty said. “You don’t believe in fortune-telling, do you?”

“No, but the Indranet’s gone quantum now and utilizes collective intuition. It can predict with an accuracy that tweaks me. And she’s a part of it.”

Haggerty had to admit that she’d tweaked him too. While he wasn’t an Indranet user like Regina, he knew enough about the evolution of technology to understand how rapidly it advanced. The neural transmitter that allowed him to link with Elsa was one of the most amazing pieces of technology he’d ever encountered, never mind that the science behind it had been evolving since the first thought-wave response computers were developed for paraplegics at the close of the twentieth century. But prophecy? Actually foretelling the future? That was tantamount to saying that God lived on the Indranet.

“I’ve spent a lot of time jacked in,” Regina continued. “I’ve watched the Net calibrate. It’s beautiful. But for her to tell you such awful things . . . It’s not right. What if it made you nervous and you did something crazy, and then something bad did happen to you?”

“I’m not nervous,” he said. “And the histrionic ramblings of an Indranet server aren’t about to make me so. Forget her. Now tell me, where do you live?”

“As if you’d come to the Westside slums to visit,” she said lightly. “I live with four other girls in a pairplex. We share bunk beds. Last one in gets the flowmat on the floor and a pushpillow. It’s paradise.”

Haggerty grinned at her candor.

“I bet you have a nice place,” she teased. “With a tremendous view of the city and a god-awful big viewscreen.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said affably. He glanced at the faux antique clock on the wall a few feet away. They’d been at the Java Joint a bit longer than he’d realized. “Perhaps it’s time I got back to it. I don’t think I have any more answers for you, Regina, but it’s been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure doesn’t have to be over now, does it?” she protested, managing to look adorable and wounded at the same time.

Haggerty scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy talking to you. And you’ve given me some things to think about,” he said.

“It’s still early,” she coaxed, “and our conversation was just getting interesting. Can’t we move on, maybe go have some fun someplace?”

Haggerty glanced at the clock again, considering the pros and cons. He could spare Regina a bit more time and still carry out his plan at midnight. He wondered why she was so determined to keep him with her. She wasn’t sending out signals that she was interested in pairing. Or was she working up the nerve? No need to worry about that. Perhaps she hadn’t yet got the answers she was looking for. He doubted she would, even if he thought he had them to give her, which he didn’t. But there was no harm in indulging her a while longer.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

She brightened. “How about this. You’ve shown me one of your places, let me show you one of mine. There’s this new club I heard about, but I didn’t wanna crash it without a date.”

“Date?”

“I didn’t mean . . . ,” She was clearly embarrassed. “I just wanna scope out this place my girlfriends rave about. And it’ll give you a glimpse of my world.”

Haggerty hesitated. Then: “Why not?” he said, as much to himself as to Regina. “What have I got to lose?”

* * *

Excerpt from The Killswitch Review, published by Yard Dog Press. Copyright 2011 Steven-Elliot Altman.

Steven-Elliot Altman is a bestselling author, screenwriter, and videogame developer. He won multiple awards for his online role playing game, 9Dragons. His novels include Captain America is Dead, Zen in the Art of Slaying Vampires, Batman: Fear Itself, Batman: Infinite Mirror, The Killswitch Review, The Irregulars, and Deprivers. His writing has been compared to that of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton and Philip K. Dick, and he has collaborated with world class writers such as Neil Gaiman, Michael Reaves, Harry Turtledove and Dr. Janet Asimov. He’s also the editor of the critically acclaimed anthology The Touch, and a contributor to Shadows Over Baker Street, a Hugo Award winning anthology of Sherlock Holmes meets H.P. Lovecraft stories.

Steven also bares ink on his body, and is bi, as in bi-coastal, between NYC and LA. He’s currently hard at work writing and directing his latest videogame Cursed Love, an online free to play gothic horror RPG from Dark Hermit Studios, set in Victorian London. Think Sherlock Holmes, Jack The Ripper and Dorian Gray mercilessly exploit the cast of Twilight. Friend Cursed Love (Official Closed Beta) on facebook and you can have fun playing out this tawdry, tragic romance with Steven while the game is being beta tested!

Diane DeKelb-Rittehouse spent several years in Manhattan as an actress before marrying her college sweetheart and returning to the Philadelphia area where she had been born. Diane first worked with Steven-Elliot Altman when they created the acclaimed, Publisher’s Weekly Starred-Review anthology The Touch: Epidemic of the Millennium, in which her story “Gifted” appeared. Diane has published a number of critically acclaimed short stories, most notably in the science fiction, murder, and horror genres. Her young adult fantasy novel, Fareie Rings: The Book of Forests, is now available in stores or online.

Interested in buying a printed copy of The Killswitch Review? Well, Steve’s publisher Yard Dog Press was kind enough to put up a special page where SuicideGirls can get a special discount and watch a sexy trailer. Just follow this link to KillswitchReview.com and click on the SG logo.

* * *Related Posts:
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One, Part Two
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One, Part Three
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter One, Part Four
Fiction Friday: The Killswitch Review – Chapter Two, Part One

by Blogbot


[Above: Anemona]


[Above: Brit]


[Above: Diamond]

Artist / SG Member Name: Jenn Lloyd / Hotcurry

Mission Statement: I seek to celebrate beauty in all its forms with bold design and a touch of whimsy.

Medium: Acrylic on canvas.

Aesthetic: Vector art minus the computer. I work by hand to create lines and shapes that represent images. I lack a basic understanding of most things technical. While amazed at the designs artists were coming up with via Photoshop, I worked the only way I knew how –– old school. Everything I make is done with pencil, pen or paint, and remains untouched by computers.


[Above: Groucho]


[Above: Woody Allen]

Notable Achievements: My work was exhibited in 2009 at Club Vanguard in Hollywood, CA, and is currently showing at Frenchy's Salon in Burbank, CA. I also designed artwork for the Silent Movie Theater in Los Angeles, CA.

Why We Should Care: I've never actually had any artistic training. My life's ambition was to become a television comedy writer (a job I currently enjoy). While briefly unemployed a few years back, I began experiencing massive pains in my back due to rheumatoid arthritis and degenerative disc disease. Doctors suggested I take up a hobby to relax myself and reduce stress. I decided to paint the things that I find beautiful, the things I find interesting, and the things that make me laugh. My only goals were to reduce stress and perhaps decorate my apartment. I never dreamed my art would find such an audience and sell as it has.

I Want Me Some: Visit JennLloydArt.com or email me at: cellulloyd@gmail.com.


[Above: Sugar]


[Above: Neyrissa]


[Above: Heather]

***

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