A while ago, I encountered the following on Twitter:

Naturally (well, “naturally” for me, I don’t know how other people’s brains work), this caused those neurons permanently affected by a youthful adoration of cyberpunk to fire off all at once.

So yeah, I’m definitely going to write that. I’ve got a partial cast of characters knocking around inside my skull, a couple of settings in mind to start things off… and no plot. Yet. One of the great frustrations, plotlessness.

I thought today would be the day I truly began to commit hobopunk upon an unsuspecting world, having fortified myself with tea and spent some time trying to expunge the worries of this ghastly week. Instead I did a goodly amount of pre-hobopunk research. It turns out that the real world had not properly arranged itself for my desired opening to take place in my desired locale. Dreadfully inconsiderate, that. And now I have to go take the car in so the nice people with actual technical knowledge can see why it’s blinking lights at me. Turns out ten-year-old Saturns occasionally get cranky.

So no hobopunk today. Hobopunk tomorrow.

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