words, seemingly random, just like the universe, so they must be, as that's all you see, right?


Back when I was fifteen, I started writing a story. I got about 30 or 40 pages in, but then just stopped, in that way I have since come to do. And, of course, I started to play the guitar, and I started writing songs, and that all took over my creative life for much of my time, although there were brief stabs at writing things that weren't songs since. Over the years, the many things I wrote down on scraps of paper began to build up, as they would, in the way that clutter of any kind will, so I decided to harvest the clutter, and write down everything that was on it on a word document, so that all my ideas were in one place. That word document has become The Book of Dysfunction (you may have to right-click and save target as) which has a myspace link, and is quite clearly an adventure in Entropy House.

I've written other stuff since I entered the computer age (2001) and I present a selection of them to you here. And I also give you the first few pages of Who Let the Frogs Out? which, if I keep at it*, might be a Proper Book, though I imagine it will be idiomatic to the Flipdog writing style, however that evolves (or not).

*has been some time since this statement, still have ideas that i'm occasionally adding to a pile, though, so i think the idea is merely festering. slowly. *

The Book of Dysfunction (excerpts)

this will probably change sometimes.

a beginner's guide to bollockology

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