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On an investor call this morning[1], HBO divulged the greenlighting of an unprecedented thirteen-season streaming adaptation of Infinite Jest. News that David Foster Wallace’s[2] unprecedented 1996 1076-page[3] cult hit will be insinuating itself onto the small screen has electrified online stans and haters alike. #HowlingFantods is trending on Twitter; counterfeit IJ NFTs are being minted faster than exchanges can delist them; and a viral TikTok meme has users like physically destroying their copies of the book[4], accompanied by the text “won’t need this anymore!” ...

chapter 1 Running out under the big sky. Legs pumping and packed dirt keeping time under my feet. Sweat running down my bare back in the evening heat. No clouds between me and a million miles of nothingness above. I’d say it’s like heaven, or like sex, or like being on fire, but what would I know. Running is just running. It doesn’t need to be like anything. I stop and lace my fingers behind my head and lean back. I don’t have to run long for the village to fade into a speck behind me. Everyone’s problems seem so life-sized when they’re smacking me and waving in my face for me to listen. But then they’re just these trails of smoke coming up from cooking fires in the distance. ...

This is Audio Story. Doing something different today: an ashkie.com Audio Story timed exclusive! This is a recording of a story I wrote a few years ago featuring Vir (of Fatherhood in Fusion City). I decided I’d have more fun narrating it than revising it or posting the text as is, so that’s what happened :) It’s rough around the edges, but honestly? It still holds up pretty friggin’ well. Bon appétit! ...

Welcome, welcome. Please, sit down. This is a cover of one of my favorite slam poems, The Apologia of Hephaestus, by Taylor Mali. For permissions purposes, this blog is now considered either a public forum, a forensics competition, or possibly a wedding ceremony. True story: I once performed this poem for my Honors English class at the University of Arizona. Months later, a girl from that class cornered me at a bar in Tucson and told me that my reading had shown her that instead of just being boring and obstruse, a poem could be clever and funny and interesting. Nothing came of that encounter because I was super oblivious, but hey. ...

This is Audio Story. This is for anyone who prefers to consume their fiction with their ears instead of their eyes, or if you just want to hear me pretend to be a neurotic bird for 42 minutes. Three listening options: A: In-browser. 👇 Hubbub Bubble B: YouTube video. Be sure to like and subscribe! C: Download the MP3. If you want to listen to the story in a different audio player, this is the hot ticket.

Qura was the first one who saw that the dead branches were not bare. Ribbons wound around from trunk to tip, here hanging loose, there spanning branches, all dyed in several rare colors. Attached to the tree by the ribbons were stones painted to look like plucked eyeballs. And hanging centered within the tree’s gnarled crown, a deerskull and its antlers and a bone-framed window of colored glass. Just like the stories said. ...

Your doom has arrived. And it is not what you had foreseen. But it isn’t benign, either. Not something you can survive. One morning, you knew, the angel of suffering would manifest in your home. Merciless. Beyond reason. And destroy everything you had left with her hurricane of white wings. Your end begins the moment, months or years before, when you see her face in your dreams. Waifish. Sunken-eyed. Starved. ...

This is Audio Story. I went ahead and recorded an amateur audiobook version of Fatherhood in Fusion City! This is for anyone who prefers to consume their fiction with their ears instead of their eyes, or if you just want to hear me talk in my film noir character voice for 90 minutes. Three listening options: A: In-browser. It’s split into two uploads due to file size issues, go figure. Fatherhood in Fusion City, Pt 1-3 Fatherhood in Fusion City, Pt 4-6 B: YouTube video. Be sure to like and subscribe! ...

I shouldn’t go talk to her. It could go really wrong, is the main thing. Like, catastrophic, drink thrown in face, tossed into a dumpster by a bouncer, that kind of wrong. I’m not tactful. Not suave. I don’t know what’s okay to say to a girl vs not. I like your scarf. Probably fine. I like your belt pouch and fishnets, is there a con in town? Probably not. ...

Auntie O is out of the house. I’m ahead on all my chores. My head basically doesn’t feel like it got run over by a truck. It’s time. Wren locked the door to her room. She dimmed her lights down to their lowest setting. She went over to the windows and closed the shutters to block out the glaring midday sun. With one feathered finger pressed to the smooth cool disc behind her earhole, she brought up the augment display. The collection of hero figures and accessories on her shelves lit up in the dark, with bright auras and deeply nested context menus that offered pre-programmed holo routines and extensive customization options. She had gotten the augdisc embedded into the base of her skull last week, and for days afterward it felt like she’d gotten a spike driven into her brain. ...

Joss is a fussy baby. Look: he’s fussing right now. Quietly so far, but don’t worry, he’ll escalate. This in spite of the fact that he’s already on his tummy in his favorite sleep spot. No, not the Pediatric-Superintelligence-approved smart crib with aquarium-themed mobile, carefully designed for optimal cognitive development. The doggy bed on the floor next to it. Vida is an asweep toddler. Sprawled on her back on her floor mattress. Blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed. Her shirt tossed in the corner, where the shirts go. You can almost see the little z’s floating out of her open mouth. Her overnight diaper is swollen with pee, but there’s no damp spot on the sheets. Thank Mod for that. ...

Hi there, thanks for coming over. You can take off your shoes or leave them on, we’re good either way. Do you want any sparkling water, or a bite to eat? Help yourself: the glasses are in the cupboard, and we’ve got a charcuterie board laid out on the counter. It’s a build-your-own amuse-bouche kind of situation. It’s great to get to connect with you. We’ve been working on some really fun stuff lately, in between all the craziness of raising kids and coping with global-historical turmoil. Kenzi’s been experimenting with new recipes, upping her reply game on Twitter, and drawing X/100 sketches (aiming for quantity > quality). Ethan’s been running D&D games, theorizing about interaction ritual chains and expanded awareness, and writing copious amounts of original sci-fi/fantasy fiction. ...