A Very Long Weekend

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To whoever did this: I love you.

ATTENTION:

Yo. A few days ago this beautiful girl named Caitlin pointed something out to me that I’m sad to say I didn’t actually notice: if you’ve been to this blog more than once and happened to find yourself on the “Manifesto” page and you, in fact, know how to read, you notice I say a lot of things about writing, and yet I never post any on here. If you’ve paid really, really close attention, you probably noticed that a majority of the postings on this blog — so far — have been mostly displays of mindless, inane bullshit. I’m cool with that. It’s okay to enjoy that stuff because I do too. I’m not going to change that element of my blog. BUT: I probably should change the writing part. So, from now on, I’m going to start posting more original material (short stories, reviews, essays, poetry, and, best of all, a big fat fucking excerpt from an untitled work in progress) as well as my usual bullshit. It’s also neatly fitting that the next post is #100. Sorry about my grand claims in the Manifesto while never, ever backing it up.

That changes…tomorrow.

Jackson Williams.

Jackson Williams & The Koala Bear

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I already love this bear....

(Click to ENLARGE — it’s a massive screenshot)

I think I’ve found my new pet, and a new partner to solve mysteries with. I feel a highly-rated detective drama coming on….just one question for the people who run the ad: how, exactly, does a Koala bear hide shiny objects in the ass of a dog? What a creepy little bear….that I will own soon….

– Jackson Williams.

The Floppy-Disk Table

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My motherfucking Christmas list just keeps growing & growing the closer we get to the big day. I love it that I’m after three ridiculous presents plus the insanely normal one — a copy of the Ken Burns documentary Baseball — that I’ve already ordered from the PBS store. I love this goddamn country.

Jackson Williams.

Goodnight, Goodnight. Sincerely: Bored American Tribune.

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This…is Qaqortoq, Greenland. Do not ask me how to pronounce it, for I have no goddamn idea myself. To me, this is what I imagine paradise looks like: writing novels and stories and whatnot all day in what appears to be some kind of winter kingdom. I’m fucking weird.

‘Ave a good evening. Winter is coming. Good night, and good luck.

— Jackson Williams.