The Fork-Poor Lightning Storm

Winding static weaves and mazy motions stutter earthward and, along with them, clouds barb each other and jab at the constellations. Never a branch. Never a branch. Crackles and pops, the neon rice krispies of the lower sky, lap at the vast fields, flash bright and staccato, orthogonal, tubular, terraced, horrible.

Bows and bows and hisses.
Dreams and gongs and seas.
Ribbons and ribbons and ribbons.

Toss the sky slabs in heaps upon the firmament. Let them suggest the glowing blue accent that morphs like a living haze over the yellow mead.

The hermit's wisest sorcery spins a cube in the grotto, spins it indefinitely, wobbles it slightly, gives it precession, and reads it every 1000th rotation, deciding a mosaic addition with a compact switch statement. Depending on the wobble and position, one of 25 mosaic tiles is added to the growing puzzly picture.

Screenshot is from Activision's Vampire The Masquerade Bloodlines.

Comments

[Michael Scribe]

Bills and bills and bills.

Incense and license we sense.

Music and music and music.

[Geekbabe]

Hey!

How goes it... :)

I believe last time you dropped by, you left the suggestive, ambiguous message: 'Cleaving'.

Anyway, things are cool in our neck of the woods. Just enjoying the summer. Working. Hanging. Geeking!

We have hit a kind of cruise control here: possibly stagnating a bit.

I am getting a slight drop weary of blogging. I admire those who sustain it daily for years on end. It's harsh.

But, we kind of put so much time and life into it that to just drop it cold turkey would seem so wasteful. We don't intend to make a cent from it. It just used to be (and still is to some extent) satisfying for some reason.

Hope your summer is going well and that whatever 'cleaving' is, it worked out well.

Geekbabe