Happy International P-STPD!

Welcome to the first International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day!

I hope you enjoy all the free works that have been made available to you today, most of which you can find by visiting this post over at papersky's journal.

If you're a creator and agree with the spirit of the day, give something away! If you're a consumer, make a post about the creators that you've come to know and appreciate by seeing their works online.

I have already made some icons available to any Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Wretch (or Wench!) as wants them.

My posting of original work will have to wait until later, though, as I didn't have time to proofread it and get it up yesterday. I'll do that when I get home from school. Today's Intermittent Poetry Attack! will also include free poetry by me. Watch out for it!

Discoveries and Offerings

The Internet (in some incarnation) is here to stay. Online interactive content is the wave of the future, and promoting the value of your work via the Internet is absolutely nothing to shy away from.

There are many, many artists that I have discovered online and subsequently spent large amounts of cash on. If it weren't for them freely posting some of their works to the Internet, I'm not sure that I would have found them as easily. This says nothing about their talent and everything about methods of physical distribution.

A few examples:

I found Stephanie Pui-Mun Law online and have spent hundreds of dollars on her artwork. I found Ursula Vernon online as well: I haven't spent hundreds on her, but I've spent a bit.

I also discovered the beautiful work of elisem online, and I'm not even sure I want to figure up how much money I've spent on her jewelry.

In the realm of written works, I've discovered so many excellent authors online. Some I was introduced to via Endicott Studio (brilliant mythic arts site) and some I've found through various blogging sites: e.g., Catherynne M. Valente, Peg Kerr, Mia Nutick, and Jo Walton. Not to mention writers like quassandra, besideserato, thewriteratwork, aglassyday, haikujaguar, jackbabalon23, kijjohnson, lyda222, penmage... the list goes on.

Do I even need to mention the amazing singing of S.J. Tucker, which I also only discovered because some of her songs were posted for free online?

I am a proud member of these Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Wretches. Make no mistake.

With all that being said, please find links below to my contributions to today's Technopeasant Revolution Celebration. I'll try and get them up on their own pages on the 'net (and on my website) later, but for now you'll have to read it via livejournal.

Poetry:
Elegy For A Fallen Angel (posted earlier as today's Intermittent Poetry Attack!)

Creative Nonfictiony Fiction:
And My Sky Full of Stars

Intermittent Poetry Attack! "Elegy for a Fallen Angel" by Deborah J. Brannon

As part of my celebration of International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day (explanation), I'd like to post one of my own poems. This poem is a result of one of my rounds of Iron Poet, but has previously been unreleased to the public before now. I hope you enjoy! Following the poem, you'll find links to more free poetry over at my website.

Elegy for a Fallen Angel
by
Deborah J. Brannon

What is it about autumn?
You always asked that question, when I knew you.
What is it about autumn?
every time something went wrong.
I stand by my assurance that as many things went wrong
for you in other seasons.
You were just stuck on autumn
(that is also called Fall)
because of the day you suffered
by a plan, or a mistake, that at least you never intended.
But you can never anticipate God.
You said that too.

You used to moan in your sleep.
I’d never tell you. I’d never even wake you,
spare you the pain of your dreamed remembrances.
I was selfish then. Your half-coherent mutterings
were the only window I had into your inhuman,
smoldering wreck of a heart.
The wind is swift and it hurts, you’d say.
The wind is swift and it hurts.
I made the connection one night, late when
intuitive leaps seem more acceptable and true.
The wind knifed you as you fell from a very long height,
a height no human could hope to survive.
I wondered who pushed you.

When you started coughing up blood,
I knew you’d be going home soon.
I didn’t know whether they’d let you in
and you probably didn’t either.
You didn’t seem any happier to leave,
at any rate. I thought I should ask you some questions.
I wanted to know about the swift wind that hurt.
I wanted to hear you say why you really disliked autumn.
I wanted to believe, wanted inalienable validation.
You died in autumn,
with little fanfare and absolutely no heavenly host
and my questions still unasked.
Who can believe in a story like that?

From the Original works section of my website:
Misdeed of an Oncogene