Ysatters-Kasja

I Where sags the sun in its refrain To pour its gleam on glassy sea; Where lacteal pink in sky and deep Will merge upon the doubling main; Where plaited at the circlet fringe, Twin orbs will sear where one had sunk, A storm released one day in fury, Diffusing in its neutral hue Across… Continue reading Ysatters-Kasja

The Lost Continent (1968)

§.00 The Lost Continent (a 1968 Seven Arts-Hammer Film production, based loosely upon Dennis Wheatley's Uncharted Seas) opens with a wheezy, breezy organ-laden lounge track by The Peddlers—vaguely reminiscent of the club music in Melville's Le Samouraï—murmuring over the introductory credits. The song (which I found quite catchy) is, in its languid, slightly seedy tone, at… Continue reading The Lost Continent (1968)

C. H. Christie’s The Oyster Pirates (1973) | A Review

"Barton masterminded the deal. He knew a lot about the oyster business. But that was all he knew." — The Oyster Pirates, Adam, March, 1973, Vol. 54, No. 4 In shuffling through old archives I recently stumbled across Adam Magazine, a curious mixture of erotica, corny comedy sketches and pulp fiction. The stories were of… Continue reading C. H. Christie’s The Oyster Pirates (1973) | A Review

Abyssal Arcology Actualized: The Muraka

The world's first underwater residence has been completed, its name: The Muraka (meaning 'coral' in Dhivehi, the language of the Maldives). The splendid 15 million dollar villa is located in the Maldives (Indian Ocean), as part of the Hilton's Conrad Maldives Rangali Island Resort; it is comprised of two levels and situated 16.5 feet below… Continue reading Abyssal Arcology Actualized: The Muraka

Kybernan (I)

The city of Trepan hung over the Tyvaultian Sea like a great metal beast, clasping the water with it's legs of anchors and oil derricks and docking columns and construction cranes and prodding the sky with its innumerable concrete quills. Yet this great metal beast had fallen to a slumber, for its hundred-thousand spires of… Continue reading Kybernan (I)

The Brass Rat

The old curio-shop was half buried in the tumbledown tenement, it were as if some arcane force held the cement at bay, differential by its diminutive size. The man walked in the door and was greeted by a strange old man, the pawnbroker, who stood at the counter. Pawnbroker nodded; wordless and stoic as statuary.… Continue reading The Brass Rat