02 October 2018

“I saw there on that vast and shapeless plain a menacing war-zeppelin the color of doom, upon which was smeared in great white lettering, ‘VIII NOTHING’. . . .

“By the ramp leading into the ship’s hull stood a bearded man clad in forest green. He had on his head a worn leather cap smeared with soot. As I approached he did not turn to me, but puffed at his rolled cigarette, and winced at the swirling black storms beyond the mountains. I asked for his name and when the smoke had emptied from his nostrils he told me he was called Blacksher. He said he was traveling to the icy wastes of Antarctica with a crew of whacked-out nobodies, and that if it was my intention to join them I would have to speak with the Star Sailor. . . .”

(a long time ago now)