Revised: ‘Fly on the Wall’

I’m at the last stage of revising a novel I wrote mostly back in May, because I intend to publish it as an ebook. In the meantime I rearranged my poems into three distinct books. I’ll also put that stuff on online retailers as ebooks.

I’m going through the poems contained in the first of those poetry ebooks, to fix their punctuation (I have no clue why I ever thought that doing away with periods when writing poetry was a good idea) and hopefully expand and sharpen them. This time I worked on the poem ‘Fly on the Wall’, mainly about an old amateur rock band I loved. I didn’t need to expand it in any way. I cut out a few sentences here and there instead.

The link is below.

Fly on the Wall

Revised and expanded: ‘A Spider’s Song’

I’m at the last stage of revising a novel I wrote mostly back in May, and that I intend to publish as an ebook. In the meantime I also rearranged all my poems into three distinct books, which I will upload in the future.

I’m going through all the poems contained in the first of those poetry ebooks, so I can update their punctuation and hopefully expand them and sharpen them. This time I took care of one of my lesser poems, ‘A Spider’s Song’. It was much weaker before this revision, but it remains one of the weakest links of the book it belongs to, I’m afraid.

Anyway, the link is below.

A Spider’s Song

Revised and expanded: ‘Three Trapped Souls’

I’m at the last stage of revising a novel I wrote mostly back in May (first one in English), because I intend to publish it as an ebook. In the meantime I’m also going through all the poems that will be contained in a poetry ebook that I will release one of these days. I need to update the punctuation of most of those poems, but I’m also expanding them and sharpening them if I can figure out how.

I found my old poem ‘Three Trapped Souls’ to be far shittier than I had expected, to the extent that these days I wouldn’t have uploaded it as it stood. Thankfully, I managed to cut out half of it and expand the rest. It’s now 1,443 words long (from an original that maybe was cut down to 250 words or so). I ended up liking this new version a lot.

Anyway, the link is below.

Three Trapped Souls

Revised and expanded: ‘A Caring Touch’

As I keep saying, I’m at the last stage of revising that novel I wrote mostly back in May of this year. I intend to publish it on Amazon and other online retailers. Maybe someone will pay four bucks for it (doubt it). Anyway, I have also rearranged all my poetry into three books, which I’ll release in the future as ebooks.

I’m going through the poems that make up the first of those poetry ebooks. I need to update the punctuation (for some reason I thought back then that not using periods was a good idea), and I’m also expanding and sharpening each poem if I can figure out how.

This time I worked on a small little poem about ASMR. Link below.

A Caring Touch

Revised: ‘Sasquatch Goddess’

I’m at the last stage of revising my latest novel (first in English), which I intend to publish as an ebook on various online retailers. I also rearranged my poetry into three distinct books, which I’ll put together as ebooks and release in the future.

This time I’ve revised one of my favorite texts I’ve ever written, the poem ‘Sasquatch Goddess’. I thought about trying to expand it, but this was one of those cases in which I love the original so much that I can’t figure out how to improve it. It was better to just fix the punctuation, remove extraneous sentences and sharpen the remaining.

I recall how this poem came to be. I was unemployed at the time, so I could stay awake until early in the morning if needed. However, I also struggled with insomnia regardless. It was one and a half in the morning, and a thought came to my mind: “What if sasquatches are responsible for my insomnia, as they attempt to control my brain?”. To elaborate on that, I spent until six in the morning writing this poem.

The link is below.

Sasquatch Goddess

Revised and expanded two minor poems

I’m at the last stage of revising that novel I wrote in May, which I intend to release as an ebook, but in the meantime I’m also going through the poems that will be contained in one of three poetry ebooks that I’ll release in the near future (certainly once ‘My Own Desert Places’ is up on Amazon).

This time I focused on two old poems, some of the first ones I wrote. The one about tennis isn’t that good, although I like it well enough, but I think I ended up improving the second one significantly. Both are about obsessions I had.

In any case, ‘If Only My Penis Were a Racket’ is silly, ‘A Magician and Her Assistant’ is heartfelt. The links are below:

If Only My Penis Were a Racket
A Magician and Her Assistant

Revised and expanded: ‘Dinosaur Apocalypse’

I’m at the last stage of revising the ebook of that last novel I wrote (first one in English), and in the meantime I’m also revising and expanding if necessary the poems that will end up in one of three poetry ebooks, which I’ll release sometime in the future. This time I wanted to work on my poem ‘Dinosaur Apocalypse’, which I felt was just okay. I think I rushed it back then, didn’t bother improving it as much as I could, but I’m glad I could do it now. The new version is maybe twice as long, much sharper, but retaining the disturbing silliness of the original.

If you read this poem when I first released it, and enjoyed it, you may want to read it again. In any case, the link is below.

Dinosaur Apocalypse

Revised: ‘Odes to My Triceratops’

I’m at the last stage of revising that novel I wrote in May, ‘My Own Desert Places’, so at work, instead of producing new stuff, I will focus for a while on arranging all my poems into distinct groups, with the notion that I’ll release a couple of poetry ebooks after I upload the novel. So far, all the poems I have written in English fall into three distinct ebooks, so that’s what I’m dealing with.

This process includes revising and particularly updating the punctuation. Although it feels like far more time has passed, I wrote my first ever poem back in June of this year, and I enjoy them so much that I would have released my novel far earlier if I hadn’t focused on coming up with new poems instead. In any case, I have revised and updated the opener for the first of the upcoming poetry ebooks: the three parts of ‘Odes to My Triceratops’.

I love this one. I wrote it back when I was blissfully unemployed and I could write until six in the morning. The whole thing swirled like a hypnagogic hallucination, and remains one of my favorite concept albums that I’ve ever produced.

Anyway, here are the links:

Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 1
Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 2
Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 3

My new author’s bio

I’m in the hopefully last stage of revising that novel I wrote mostly back in May, “My Own Desert Places”, because I intend to self-publish it as an ebook, and it lacked a bio section, so this morning I wrote one. I’ll likely revise it in the future, but this seems good enough to place at the end of the ebook. It’s not like most people read through this stuff.


I was born in 1985, in the north of Spain, right in the border with France. For as long as I can remember I have felt uneasy around people, and I have preferred to isolate myself and interact instead with the worlds and characters that kept popping in my head. Besides translating those daydreams into written stories, I also drew comics up until high school. I’m an anxious person, easily agitated by any kind of change or stress, and prone to falling into the rabbit holes of obsessions. Generally an unpleasant guy to be around.

I was good with computers, so I studied to become a programmer. However, those jobs in the private sector were either too stressful for my fragile mind, or I got discarded, despite my technical skills, because I wasn’t perceived as a team player. I’m weird and make people uncomfortable. At this point I realized I was fucked and I may end up living with my parents forever. I went to therapy with little success, until a couple of psychiatrists realized I have high-functioning autism, formerly called Asperger’s syndrome. Ironically, I had thrown out the possibility of having this neurological condition, because I thought that one needed to be good at math, and unemotional. That’s what happens when you get your facts from popular fiction written by normies. So if you want to get an impression of how reality feels like through the lens of high-functioning autism, you may be interested in my fiction. Warning: it’s disturbing. Anyway, I eventually got a job as a computer technician at a hospital, which I can tolerate.

My life was a mess. I failed to write for long periods, as I believed that nobody would publish my shit. However, that gave me the chance to learn how to play the guitar, which became one of my most fulfilling hobbies apart from reading and masturbating. I consider that learning how to play an instrument was key to figuring out how to bypass my conscious mind and access my subconscious at will, which I rely on during every writing session.

I didn’t want to die without at least trying to publish some of my stories, so I got serious and attended a few writing courses. I discovered that I dislike most writers, I don’t share their reasons for why they need to write, and my tastes clash with theirs. They were disheartening experiences. I ended up writing six novellas in Spanish that became my two books “Los reinos de brea” and “Los dominios del emperador búho”. I sent them around, but no traditional publisher wanted them. When I ended up self-publishing them, they didn’t sell for shit. The whole experience taught me that nobody cared about what I did, and that due to my peculiarities I would never find my place in this life. I stopped writing for a couple of years.

However, the daydreams didn’t stop, and I kept receiving sparks for stories that felt compelling, so I thanked whatever demons still believe in me and I started writing again, this time just for myself and in English, the language in which I always felt more comfortable. I didn’t think I have any business writing in a different language than my native tongue, and I doubted that I could do it well enough, but I said to myself, “Fuck it, I’ll do it anyway,” which is how I usually push through my mental barriers. This time I know that nobody will publish my shit, so I write without the slightest thought of whether anything I include in my stories will bother some faceless, oversensitive gatekeeper. I’m only writing to satisfy my lurid desires and to drag myself out of the cycles of depression. If anything I write makes someone else happy, even better.

Post-mortem for “A Millennium of Shadows”


I failed to complete my previous novella, “Festerbump’s Fantasy Village”, and I didn’t even come close to completing it (I didn’t reach the turning point that I had planned). I don’t write for money, obviously, so I can only gather the strength to follow a story to its end if I find the process compelling/rewarding enough. If I’m lucky, the concept I consider for a new story will be so shitty that I won’t waste my time writing a single word of its draft. But sometimes the concept sounds good enough on paper that I pull off a few chapters until I realize that the whole thing is treading water. Abandoning a story is admitting defeat, and I hate doing so as much as most people, I guess. However, abandoning “Festerbump” wasn’t remotely as painful as giving up on “Thirty Euros”. I’m afraid that daydreams are intrinsically poor material to write fictional narratives about: not enough challenges/conflict.

By the way, if you plan to make a living writing fiction, you may as well plan your future upon the assumption that you’ll win the lottery. Even if you manage to get published by a traditional publisher (usually because you have the right connections and/or share specific opinions, mostly political ones, with the right gatekeeper), you are unlikely to earn enough money that you can avoid wasting away at a full-time job. Hell, I have a full-time job and I’d need a second person with a full-time job to start considering myself financially secure.

I’d like to go on about how the idea for this novella came to be, but this one was one of those cases in which it just happens. I snatch the spark, I daydream of an increasingly convoluted plot line and I just get to writing. But Glyca definitely came from a single inspiration; that name is just a lazy feminization of Glycon, an ancient snake god that apparently was worshipped briefly, by quite a few people, in the Roman empire during the second century. And I only learned about this minor god thanks to this great YouTube animation. I have found myself singing that song in my head randomly since I first heard it.

Of the other events in this novella, the only one I feel like elaborating on is that Duckson guy that our heroic protagonists ambush and murder. He’s based on a guy who did bad stuff to me for no good reason; the only excuse I heard was that I “denied that friendship is the most important thing in the world”. In reality, the prick was a malignant narcissist who couldn’t deal with someone who didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. He may had ended up becoming an important political figure in this country if he hadn’t crashed his car and died when he was twenty six or so. When I saw his obituary, I burst out laughing. All the problems he created, except for the damage already done, ceased immediately, which is another reminder that sometimes many of your problems would be solved if the person responsible died. Too bad about these modern thoughts about life being intrinsically valuable and all that crap. I’m old fashioned, I guess.

Anyway, I needed to write this story because I was depressed at the time, and somehow getting through this nightmare with Glyca dragged me out of it. It’s the only reason I bother to write at all. It’s not about anyone else enjoying it. And I especially don’t care about you in particular enjoying it.

Would getting fucked by Glyca’s tail feel good or great? We’ll never find out.