Author Archives: Jason Hart
Part One. He comes to build of the world an ordered monarchy. You will be the Knight-Duke of Massachusettes. And when the little men are in ordered pens, he will drown them until the world is naught but dead Dukes. … Continue reading
Follow me on Twitter: JasonRoyalHart
Hi, I installed a new version of my word press theme and it broke my customizations, so bear with me as the web site is put back in order.
Books on Tape Jason Hart It is 1989. You have shoplifted a book on tape and you get in your bathtub to listen to it. It is a book about an elf. The book is a pop-up book and a … Continue reading
Website for the Starcraft II map I worked on has launched: Parasite for Starcraft II.
For some reason, at some time, Rufus Wainwright complimented Milwaukee: http://www.jsonline.com/entertainment/musicandnightlife/100161544.html
Parasite, the Starcraft II custom map that I have been working on, has been released. Currently it’s sitting in the number 20 spot for top maps and has over 100,000 plays per day!
I’m blogging this here story I’m writing, right here. It’s raw, unedited and hot like an elephant’s heart. The thing about these witches is that they’re all tiny dictators. Sure, in their little cages, flying in space, there’s no limit … Continue reading
At around three A.M. we started building. We had the wheels and gearshifts from a dozen bikes, a whole spool of gauge six wire, and the pointless determination of the casually mad.
It sat in the middle of Jonny’s bedroom. We’d pushed his mattress up against one wall and carefully moved each of his army of terra cotta peace activists to the kitchen. A single bulb hung there, casting a Gandhi-shaped shadow into the room.
I sat down and began to pedal. It was fast at first, but as the wire wound around the spool, the strain on my legs became intense. It felt like the first time I had biked to the top of Holy Hill, back when I had just quit smoking and was out of shape. Hanna aimed the harpoon and took stock of the wind. Jonny stood, salivating, wrapped in a parachute we’d reclaimed from the dump.
“Let go, Jonas!” Hanna shouted, and I dove off the seat.