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dgmicaels.bsky.social
d.g.micaels
@dgmicaels.bsky.social
1.3K followers 1.5K following 1.1K posts

New penname. New WIP: ‘Young, a lovestory’ 🏜️ 💌

… i’m a onetime coauthor of a duology. Plus all of our ongoing #VSS ’s.

@ bc.ca 🐋 🇨🇦
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dgmicaels.bsky.social
d.g.micaels @dgmicaels.bsky.social · 18d
Vancouver's seawalls buckle under 2040s superstorms, but lobe uncoils like a droning riff through the dust. Introducing the *de Drift Playlist* for *Young, a lovestory*—a cli-fi romantasy WIP where rebels chase gales, AI’s glitch blue, and ghosts hum punk-jazz anthems.

Full playlist in thread ↓
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #transport

‘… and so transport to that other world was a patience for him in those days in a sad blue petrol-driven two tons of steel filled full up of a giggly backseat driver and her quiet sighs.’
November 15, 2025 at 10:01 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
| #vss365 #number

| #WIPSNIP (or outtake)
It’s like primes, Maeve,’ Aaesha muttered, staring at the rain-soaked window, the skyline’s tall threads flickering like half-forgotten stories. ‘Love, I mean. Lonely, whole only in itself, and then—poof—you lose yourself.’ Maeve blinked, her charcoal stub paused mid-smudge over the swatch—an asymmetrical vine creeping across charcoaled silk, ‘Primes? You mean, like… fancy numbers? Girl, you lost me at lonely.’ Aaesha sighed. Maeve didn’t need proofs….
November 13, 2025 at 12:58 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#WIPSNIPS
#local
….Aaesha was equally well-aware, though, that any heightened new awareness of clothing’s potential as a form of social statement, or of advocacy, or commonality—as was being exemplified by this newest trend towards moderativeness—would also, always, be supplemented by a dream. The showcasing — the need for flairs, the aesthetic of needing one’s garment to be seen as unique as oneself (as you, yourself, were, too, obviously)—would be as eternal to in the fashion industry as the stars in the sky are, and it’d remained present always, even in the face of the fashion world’s many new, and increasingly-peripheralized, localizing manifestations, and it would continue to for so long as any sense of fashion even continued to exist. So, it was really only the case, now, that some of those critical elements and inspirations, sometimes at least, would now need to be expressed with a little more subtlety.
November 10, 2025 at 7:43 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #law

The law of a reduction still haunts me ineloquently. Ineluctably. Out of the silence of these faraway blank pages. And of you.
November 9, 2025 at 1:16 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #law
To love beyond the law is to hate the symbolic order and so to hate others insofar as they remain within that order: For this reason, real love may resemble cruelty….
—Marrisa Rose
November 9, 2025 at 1:06 PM
Reposted by d.g.micaels
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #language
November 17, 2023 at 2:11 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#WIPSNIPS #movement
… Or, in a sense, as if space, itself, was — Aaesha might have told her once — not even that particularly real. Who, then, were they to complain about ‘size?’ They’d adjusted their styles and tactics in those and sundry other complicated ways many times over, and incessantly in fact, over the past couple of years. Sometimes sneakily, too. Trying keep in mind, though, that every moment anywhere in any direction would always also be a movement in every other direction all at the same time. That was how Willoe’s grandmother had put it to her once, perhaps, in that odd, Chinese-Korean accent of hers, she thought, at some point, sometime, way back when Willoe’d only been just a little girl?
November 7, 2025 at 3:52 PM
Reposted by d.g.micaels
jason-h-abbott.bsky.social
“Flame-Taught Witch”

Art by me for November’s upcoming #SciFanSat issue and its theme of FIRE! Writers, 14 days remain until submissions are due on November 20th. Full details are on our landing page at scifansat.com/landing.html!

#SFF #AmWritingScifi #AmWritingFantasy #WritingPrompts
A fantasy illustration of a witch floating atop a column of fire, a wave of illumed smoke and flames behind her. In one hand she holds her broom, in the other, a growing sphere of fire.
November 6, 2025 at 11:04 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365

… someday,
the history will glisten, the historian says, with its glory, and
not all those screams,
& the sky will only listen….

#history
November 7, 2025 at 11:36 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
…and once again at the end it was an emptiness of the #geography that threatened distinction between the loneliness in our minds and on street signs and between me myself and Ferdinand Soatcio my brother and between Walmarts uptown and downtown as if one’s always the same as the other
#vss365
November 6, 2025 at 11:16 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
“You can’t say things,” writes
Michael Palmer.
November 4, 2025 at 7:54 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365

Get an education and write a tome, they say? Don’t think about the obsolescence. The silence. The movies. The show-biz kids who made the... self-generating scripts and their self-motivated successors? Just as well as have made some scratches in the sand. For immortality?

#education
November 4, 2025 at 11:39 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365

keyword: #domestic
“The sound of his chrysanthemums purring in the garden and the new bliss on his horizons must’ve almost had him almost convinced it was over, then, hadn’t it?” “And take a look now? There’s nothing left of him now but a taped outline on your floor?” “So then, he mustn’t have even realized it wasn’t over even after the wild geese had flown home early?” Now, the detective turned over curtly to look at me. “But was he so wrong? Aren’t we, all of us, subject to that same sugar sea promise of domestic bliss? I’ll see ya, Joe, I gotta stop off at home….” But no, not me….I am still Joe. And this is still my beat….
November 3, 2025 at 1:23 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #wipsnip (perhaps)

“Willoe”

Then, once the words’d failed,
unworldstoppingly,
Sitting in opposing corners
of a large and an echoey room,
the hot business of our romance began to begin…. (& it really took off).
Peaches and roses, peonies and many other otherworldly echoes. . . .

#business
November 1, 2025 at 12:43 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365
At a #Halloween lonely afterparty, farewell to the weird arms of a zombie and to the old men, says the lonely ghoul.
October 31, 2025 at 1:16 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365

a ray of rigid moon-
beams will splay in through
my window cos of
your ‘No’ in the moonlight.

#ray
October 30, 2025 at 9:43 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
Vancouver's seawalls buckle under 2040s superstorms, but lobe uncoils like a droning riff through the dust. Introducing the *de Drift Playlist* for *Young, a lovestory*—a cli-fi romantasy WIP where rebels chase gales, AI’s glitch blue, and ghosts hum punk-jazz anthems.

Full playlist in thread ↓
October 29, 2025 at 2:27 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #experiment

“… We may quickly find ourselves facing a textpocalypse, where machine-written language becomes the norm and human-written prose the exception.”

PREPARE FOR THE TEXTPOCALYPSE
(Our relationship to writing is about to change forever…)
MARCH 08, 2023, The Atlantic

#wipsnip
7. Tohido Tohido’d lay his pen down on the table. He’d been up before the dawn again on the very next morning. Then, on a random piece of fresh, gray, untreated paper acquired somewhere during some earlier, half-forgotten moment of some long-ago period in his life, he’d been scrawling: ...& if we’re all singin’ along so intensio-auto-somatically in our sweet sweet voices – as if in a univoice – as if we had had no choices – in anticipating what the new dissipations of the satiations of the no sensations would lead us would would lead us would lead us to know us to know no known to know & two no’s & too many no’s & too knowin’ that nobody knows us at all no nowhere no no not at all no no not at all no… no, not at all, no…. no…. no.
October 28, 2025 at 12:49 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #terror
so skilled at her subtle downturning that we winced at her every opportunity to flaunt her chagrin and then we cringed and went insignificant when terror scooped the other children and i still cannot speak
October 25, 2025 at 11:26 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #terror

"perhaps […] concerning this place where I am going, I, in fact, know enough about it to think, with a certain terror [une certaine terreur…] that things there are not going very well, and that, all things considered, I would be
better not to go there at all."
J. Derrida (1980)
October 25, 2025 at 11:24 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #energy

#wipsnip

And so then, he wrote:

“Dark … & a nochaos no-horizon blue unanticipating a new ener-gency slower than a suddenly softshoe molasses is dancing in the dark amen. But was it beautiful? Is it beautiful or is it broken by the goodbye, she said?”

Morning pages. . . .
October 22, 2025 at 2:39 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #atom

Like the news, the electron, too, is a cloud
she said.
A haunted-logic flickering
of virtualities.
Coming in, going out
of reality &
influencing how it flows
at a level
far finer than any mere atom,
sadly.

⚛️
October 20, 2025 at 5:43 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365 #android
A river of names was emptied down. Into my Android cellphone. And, looking back on it now, I often wonder what i should have called it? Should i simply have called that inept connection, “God?” Or was it just another silent, chilly, case of my deep enchilada loneliness looming once again on my day off? It did seem to have a billowing about it though, like there was something alive on some frisky moon of Saturn or somewhere else … or, perhaps, even like that of a divinity? Hmm….. Nevertheless, needless to say, deep in my own doomscrolling contemplations on that day, I did not answer The Call. I was already lost elsewhere, somewhere else over on the darkside of this deep, lonely, digital city. I am Joe. This is my beat…
October 18, 2025 at 11:47 AM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
#vss365
keyword: #arid

#wipsnip
‘Their love is like a rainbow’s surge even when it’s smouldering,’ ‘… and so she must be in there, somewhere. At some angle off from all those lonely experiences…. or something?’ The pretty, poised young woman, standing right next to that rugged looking guy in the lot, in the flashy, pricey, red scarlet top just for a sunblock, also flared up even more by all its fancy, custom embroideries, was staring now off into the arid, sparse landscape that completely surrounds the fillup station. But somehow, she was waiting patiently also, as if she were a local. Now, therefore, crossing her arms over her chest in front of her. “who is she, and how…’ Roberta wondered… ‘did she even get here?
October 17, 2025 at 3:16 PM
dgmicaels.bsky.social
“It must’ve been the unearthily taunting silence at the bottoms of all the lost lagoons that first unearthed it, wasn’t i?”

“Wait, what?”

“Then, i was not meant to hear unearthly rumblings coming from on deep down about that “Other” and all of our dooms?”

“You’re still mad, Smithsonian.”

#vss365
October 16, 2025 at 1:01 PM