As far as user caps went, Tenchi Teikoku had one of the lowest in the area. The rumors went that its sysop, who went by the name of Kenoh, ran the board out of his basement with his own equipment and bundled T1 lines. That meant bandwidth into Tenchi was
The other night, Matador had trouble falling asleep. Something was plaguing his little eight-year-old mind, and he tossed and turned in his bed while I lay reading and crying beside him. Not openly, of course. I wasn't bawling. But tears ran down my cheeks, and the same low
I don’t know if it’s because I’m a writer or because of the anxiety disorder that’s been quietly narrating my life since middle school, but I am always listening. People talk, and my brain just… grabs it. Out in public, in movies, in books, in checkout
A friend messaged me the other day. Let's call him Bort. No, let's call him Steve. Steve is a normal and completely real person, just like me, and we share many of the same interests, such as staying healthy, trusting science, and acknowledging the basic human
“Uh… hi, this is Bob Newhart calling from, uh, the… well, I guess you’d call it the ‘Patriotic Apparel Compliance Office,’ if that’s still the name. Right. Good. “…Yes, yes, I got the memo. That’s why I’m calling. I, uh… well, it says here that starting
Spoilers for Death Stranding 2 ahead.
There’s a moment in Hackers when Dade Murphy, aka Crash Override, aka Zero Cool, is poking around Kate Libby’s laptop. He notices the specs and starts rattling them off to prove he's in the know: Dade: It has a killer refresh rate. Kate: P6 chip. Triple
I’ve been trawling through literary agent websites lately, and I’ll tell you what: each one has their own quirky little rules. Some want a guaranteed happily-ever-after. Some will accept robots, but only if they're unattractive. And still others insist that the protagonists must be a lesbian
Last night, for maybe the thousandth time, I watched Hackers on my phone while delivering some packages in Death Stranding 2. It’s the cinematic equivalent of comfort food: dope-ass graphics, neon lighting, and dialogue that I was never cool enough to fully understand. If you’ve spent any time
After more than twenty years in the (self-)publishing world—and eight consecutive New York Times bestsellers—I still get a little thrill every time I open my inbox. It’s not the awards, not the movie deals, not the lavish praise from critics that keeps me going. No, it’
August 5th, 2025. Portland, Oregon. Portland is two hours ahead of Austin, so I woke about 3:45 a.m. ready to conquer the day. Unlike previous adventures where Dom has organized a precise, value-maximizing itinerary for us, this year, I was in charge. In classic Verastiqui style, that meant
August 4, 2025. Portland, Oregon. When I told people we were headed to Portland for our 2025 Family Adventure, the common reaction was: Why? Even Dom, once we arrived, asked more than once: What were you expecting to see? Their skepticism made it seem like Portland was just a random
Essays
By the end of the 1980s, my dad's Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme was starting to show signs of aging. As a kid, I knew nothing of the mechanical problems plaguing The Great Silver Beast, but something must have been wrong if we were borrowing my grandmother's car
Writing
I recently finished another revision pass on House of Nepenthe, a process that felt like trying to get a long sofa up a spiral staircase, and I didn't even have anyone screaming pivot at me the whole time to keep me motivated. For context, Vise Manor came out
Vise Manor
Author's Note: Here's an unused Robert Hargreaves chapter that didn't quite go in the direction I needed to. When you're dealing with multiple POVs driving towards a single devastating conclusion, you have to make sure none of them lag behind, and that
Vise Manor
The original prologue from Vise Manor, probably dropped because I don't know this character from the inside. I know how he speaks and behaves from the outside (see Hybrid Mechanics), but how he thinks is another story. I don’t know how long we waited in that room,
Writing
After a brief and underwhelming sabbatical from the Church of Bezos, I’ve returned—head bowed, tail tucked, and ready to once again sell my wares in the temple. You know, the one Jeebus flipped tables over because it had become a marketplace? That one. Except this temple is digital,
Essays
In retrospect, turning 45 was a mistake. Ever since that fateful day in March, bad things have been happening to me—things even Cool Daniel or Even Steven Daniel can't seem to reconcile. There was the you have angry old man shoulder just deal with it diagnosis from
Bartering Nola
It only took twenty years, a few formatting meltdowns, and one deeply philosophical debate over the plural of "bone yard"—but Bartering Nola is finally here. Originally written back in the early 2000s, this novella has spent the better part of two decades loitering in the weird space
Flashes From the Verse
Author's Note: This selection is from an attempt at a longer version of Bartering Nola that never quite materialized. In addition to molding it into a full-length novel, I also tried to tie it back into the larger Vinestead Universe. Obrego, for example, has an Ayudante biochip, which
Essays
Strapped into a go-kart, heart pounding, helmet damp with someone else’s sweat, all I can think is: please, not again. I'm in Group 2, tail end of the lineup, listening to a teenage attendant deliver the safety speech with the enthusiasm of a bro-skibidi-rizz TED talk. He&
Weekly Uplink
My content calendar insists today is for a personal update, so here we are, broadcasting another Weekly Uplink straight from the Verastiqui neural stack. Let’s get into it before the system times out. Going W̶i̶d̶e̶ Right Back to Amazon I still don’t know what to
Writing
How convenience, compromise, and capitalism are breaking the indie dream. Enter the Behemoth I'm pretty sure the phrase "love-hate relationship" was invented in anticipation of how I would feel about Amazon in 2025. I remember–decades ago now–being at the library on base in Misawa,
Essays
May 2, 2025 – Austin, TX The sky in Austin today couldn't make up its mind. Half of it looked like a dingy bedsheet, bleached and stretched, and the other a bruised knuckle, blue to almost black. Rain was coming. The kind of rain that makes you reach for