I’ve Had Better Days

She held the knife just so. There is such a thing as a practiced casualness and then there is the casualness that is earned. There, a oneness that cannot be faked.

Guess which one I find more frightening. Guess which one she had.

She turned the blade back and forth, watching the light play against its sheen. She glanced up at me. "It seems we have a lot to talk about," she said.

Word Count

I wanted to get a feel for how many words I've published on Free Refills since I started Season 1, so I did a quick-and-dirty word count on the folder in which I keep the final drafts to the pieces. The total? Somewhere around 40,000 words.

Now, I recognize that it doesn't all read with the hard-edged, gleam-faceted, cut-gemstone quality of, say, Cormac McCarthy. I think we can safely say that no more than 60% of the pieces published here are Pulitzer-worthy. But still. I'm proud of what I've accomplished so far. 40,000 words is about half the length of a novel, all of it drafted and published in a bit more than half a year.

But I still feel a lot of shame every time I bring Free Refills up in my browser to read something and see the ugly default theme I'm still using. It's like I hear a voice berating me: "How *dare* you prioritize the writing itself over making the writing look pretty?"

Dear Voice: You just answered your own question and furthermore you are an asshole.

IMA RADSTER

If you are around my age and my level of geekiness, you might remember the pre-Internet phenomenon of Bulletin Board Systems, or BBSs. BBSs were computers you could call up from your computer (via, yes, you remember correctly: a modem) and connect with, and then you could...well, you could do stuff. Mostly you would write posts on message boards and send messages to other people. Some BBSs were places you could download software (usually hacked). Some BBSs had multiple phone lines so you could real-time chat with other users. If you were a teenage geek/nerd like me, this passed for something like a social life.

Most everyone in BBS land used a handle rather than their real name. Whatever my main handle was, it's lost to me now, which I'm sure is for the best. I'm certain I thought it was cool at the time, and I'm certain now it wasn't cool at all.

But at some point I decided to develop an alter ego named Ima Radster, who posed as a relatively novice user and WROTE ENTIRELY IN ALL CAPS. You know how people now hate it when other people online write in all caps? Well, they hated it even more back then. If you were on a BBS at all, it implied you had a certain minimum level of geekiness/nerdiness, a level that set you into a particular subculture--and boy oh boy ignore the social norms of a subculture at your peril.

But the thing was, being Ima Radster was fun. First of all, Ima Radster was totally convinced that he was, in fact, a radster. He was impervious to all forms of criticism and attack (and boy was he met with criticism and attack); he just plodded cheerfully on. But there was also something kind of delightful about the way he expressed himself, a certain freedom found in those ALL CAPS. He blithely plunged into any conversation he entered, jovial and ignorant, unapologetic to the last. I guess this would fall into what we now consider trolling. But my oh my was it fun.

I MEAN SERIOUSLY GUYS YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOMETIME. JUST HAPPILY TYPE AWAY IN ALL CAPS IN YOUR DAY-TO-DAY WORLD AND SEE IF IT DOESN'T MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER ABOUT THINGS. YOU HAVE TO FOCUS ON THE "HAPPILY" PART, THOUGH--THIS IS NOT THE SPACE TO GET MEAN OR AGGRESSIVE. THIS IS THE SPACE WHERE YOU'RE LIKE, "HEY, REMEMBER THE SPICE GIRLS? THEY WERE GREAT, HUH?"

It's like being the opposite of a ninja.

25 YEARS LATER, AND STILL A RADSTER.

DAMN RIGHT.

We’ll Build Our Campfires from the Bones of Our Enemies, She Cried

I got on the scale this morning and egads.

When I stepped off I found a text from my ex-girlfriend Allison, Warrior Princess, who used to scoop me into her arms and carry me to bed, where we would spoon and hunger for each other and do nothing else, for we had each pledged chastity to the gods of Valhalla until such time as we had vanquished the demons from this realm and could finally rest from our battles. But we broke up before that happened.

The text read, "CARRY UR OWN DAMN SELF TO BED, FATBOY," which hurt. It was also kinda weird. I hadn't heard from Allison in years.

The Much Awaited Season 3 Premiere!

Happy equinox. A lot's happening on Free Refills today.

We're changing the way we approach daily publishing. The Monday-through-Friday pieces that you love and rely on are now officially known as Daily Refills. (This piece right here is the inaugural Daily Refill.) You can find your Daily Refill at dailyrefill.freerefills.net. For the foreseeable future, the Daily Refill will be published on the homepage as well, but we've got big plans for changes to the homepage this season, so if you find yourself looking for just the daily pieces, the above URL is the place to look.

New rules go into effect today. You can find the rules here. Within the rules you'll find a more complete explanation of what to expect from your Daily Refill.

And perhaps most exciting, Jerry and I are launching a new project called Training Tiger Woods. Click on that link for the whole scoop.

Free Refills: Soon We Will Rule the World.™