It happened.

I crossed one of the few remaining items off of my things-must-to-have-been-done-by-the-time-I-turn-30 list. I had some humdingers on there too, boyo. I mean we're talking some real my-mother-must-never-find-out-about-this-shit-because-she'd-drop-dead-and-then-her-re-animated-zombie-would-kill-me-with-one-hundred-Chinee-death-Hells.

Pretty much all I had left were

a) Get non-lame tattoo
b) Go skydiving
c) Get published (book preferably, magazine ok too)

Now all I have to do is get a tattoo while skydiving. Steve-O style, no?

You heard me. Mssr. Dinsmore called me last night to let me know that my short story "Namith's Mission" had been accepted for publication in an anthology entitled Danger City to be printed in January by the good folks at Contemporary Press.

Kick.

Ass.

I'm so geeked I don't know how to rightly express it.

All things serve The Beam, baby.