Author's Notes Pt. 7 - The Dopest Ghost in Town




Isaac's origins date back to 1999 but the first time I started entertaining him as a character seriously would have been around 2001-2 while I was working on my novel ‘The Disease of Dancing Cats’ and I was trying to figure out what one of the peripheral characters was like.

This character had a minor but important role and I was trying to figure whom to base it on. The character was meant to be funny and full of life but with a hint of tragedy about him.

Pt 24 - Chapter 10: Present

Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read.

This chapter returns to the present.

Read below the break for more.


Author's Notes Pt. 6 - Michael was a Poet.


Some of the characters in Neurons Like Brandy have direct influences. For example, Duck is based on a girl I worked with in Thresher and Orfax is based on a good friend of mine during his more drug addled years.

Michael is based on an old man named Alistair that I used to work with during my tenure at National Car Parks.

Author's Notes Pt. 5 - Location, location, location; Denny and Rosencrantz are Dead

This is part of a companion piece for Neurons Like Brandy, you don't have to have read all of the novel to read this but the discussion will have inevitable spoilers for stuff that happens in early chapters as well as possible reprecussions later on in the book (circa chapter 12). They are all pretty minor but I would say it might be worth hitting the index if you are at all worried.

This chapter is mainly about some of the characters but also about some of my favourite films as well as some location shots of Brighton.

Hope you enjoy.

Author's Notes Pt. 4 - Joshua shot first


This is a spoiler section for a bunch of parts, if you have not read them then I recommend you go back and do so to avoid spoilers for the main story. This is mainly to write about the changes made and the some of the inspirations or stories behind some of the characters.

If you are interested read below, otherwise go to the index and read from the beginning before coming back to this.

Read below for more spoilers. That is the third warning.

Authors Notes Pt.2 - Let there be Light


 Originally intended as part of a trilogy, ‘Neurons Like Brandy’ was the middle child with my first novel ‘The Disease of Dancing Cats’ and the third ‘Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event’ bookending it. What I wanted to do was rethink the monster genre films but to be honest I am way too late now. TDoDC is a vampire novel (yes, I see your eyes rolling), NLB is a zombie novel and AoaUE was going to be/may still be a werewolf story (based off of a short story I wrote during my GCSE English class).

The market is saturated for those types of genres but please bear with me.

The point of this post is to talk about resurrecting ‘Neurons Like Brandy’ and actually finishing it. The idea is that I will be posting 1-2 chapters every 2 weeks with accompanying art (as long as I can find the sketch books that I drew in at the time as well as a functional scanner) as well as some kind of self-indulgent writer commentary.

I am not selling it am I?

I do understand that the zombie genre has been done to death, and there are few ways to go short of having a girl in a cowboy hat and bikini massacre undead.

NLB came into existence pretty much because of George Romero’s classics and Martin, which is underappreciated. Further to that, the opening of the novel was always scored by Pilote with Up or Down (imagine this music playing in a shopping centre as zombies murder people it is sinister and hilarious at the same time). A lot of the narrative conceit was taken from an episode of ‘Thirtysomething’ a terrible 90s TV show that had a couple of good ideas that Julian Barnes mined for his most recent novel (disclaimer: I don’t think that Julian Barnes actually took inspiration from this TV show). The other big influence was a film called ‘The Dead Next Door’, I don’t think that trailer really does it justice but the nihilism of a community trying to deal with zombies – in my mind – hasn’t ever been done quite as well. The sense of boredom marred by the ever impending death is a difficult juxtaposition.

Well, I am not really selling it again am I?

The few of you that actually read this blog please trust me on this one. It might be a terrible idea – every person who has read this novel has said that it needs an editor – but that is where you can help. See grammatical problems, plot holes, over long sentences? Point them out and tell me how rubbish I am. I will try and make them better.

Suspicious of a character’s motivations? I will try and explain or, possibly, change them.
Consider this a polite form of crowd sourcing.

I feel that we should finish off with a post from the forum where I got the picture of the Onechanbara image:

“the first time i masterbaited was when i was 11 and i jacked off to a animated picture of a 50 year old lady eating a hotdog on the internet.[sic]”

Food for thought right there.

Author's Notes Pt. 3 - The Bechdel Test, the Lost Chapter and Nufonia


Incidentally, if you are coming here from a random link or whatnot, I would advise that you go to the index first and, at least read the Neurons Like Brandy chapters as there are going to be spoilers in these posts and if you are remotely interested on why these side-stories exist then I would say do not read past the break.

Author's Notes Pt. 1 - We Will bury our Heroes

It was three days before Reading Music Festival in 1999 when I got the album “Nature Creates Freaks” by the band Cay. It was their debut album, signed to East West (they released Tori Amos’s “Little Earthquakes”), and it had been getting rave reviews. I’d spent the previous weeks absorbing the media around it in a fashion so as to get psyched for it.

I remember sitting down in my friend Potter’s room and listening to the album and by the time we got to the end Potter turned to me and said:

“I wish I was going to Reading.”

Cay’s set at the festival was electrifying. They were this bratty, angry fusion of Sonic Youth and early Hole. I bounced around like a loon in the mosh pit while the band’s lead singer, Anet Mook, snarled her way through song after song. I’d been to gigs before but none had felt as raw and energetic. My girlfriend and I fell in love with them on that day.
 
 The CD inlay was soon photocopied and turned into a poster, stickers applied to note books, lazy mornings spent listening to tracks like 'Skool' as the sun crept in through the window in my bedroom and I supped the remnants of a cold filtered Heineken with the sound turned down on John Woo’s “The Killer”. This was during a time when my head was full of big, small ideas. I was going to be a painter, draw comics, write novels and then burn them all. I was full of myself when I really all I was full of was shit. I wanted to be Bukowski before I even knew who Bukowski was, let alone read any of his novels. The Matrix had not aired in cinemas yet; the PlayStation 2 had been announced but not seen.  Less than 2 months later I moved out of my parents’ house and into a dirty little bed sit that I shared with my girlfriend. Cay joined Portishead, Bush, Limp Bizkit, KoRn, Nine Inch Nails and The Bloodhound Gang as my soundtrack to this new and exciting life.

The people I hung out with were all like me, all felt indestructible, like we some kind of creative beatnik group of musicians and artists when really we were a bunch of drunken, stoned teens with delusions. Me more than most with know-it all idiot ramblings, ignorant assertions combined with continual foot-in-mouth disease. None of that mattered though, I felt like I was on top of the world.
I saw Cay two more times. Once was at a convention room in Brighton Center supporting Feeder. The band belted through the album as well as some B-Sides. Anet was standing in the center of the stage with a cigarette jammed in the neck of her guitar and a cheap can of Carling standing at her feet. In those moments of frazzled chords and feedback I’d rarely been happier. After the gig I bought a T-Shirt with ‘CAY SUK ROK’ emblazoned across the back and their ‘Fuck Popp’ logo on the left breast. 



The second time was in London, the venue I am not sure about, but I remember that they had two supporting bands: My Vitriol and Trashland. While in the bathroom I bumped into the drummer from My Vitriol and later the lead singer would make a dig about Trashland and referred to them as ‘Trashcan’. I barely registered either band anyway; I was only really there to see Cay. That night was a bit of a blur, the night is hard to describe because I had been drinking pretty heavily but I remember bundling into the crowd as the band played ferociously.

Certainly, by no means were Cay original but they were mine. Their vibrancy was mine, the anger, the confidence, the noise was all mine. Obviously that was a claim I couldn’t honestly hold true to. I hadn’t been there during their time at ORG, during their inception only once they had signed to their utterly incompetent major label (there were stories of East West contacting ORG and asking them how to promote Cay). It didn’t matter though, Cay was important to me.

On night shifts in the convenience store I worked in, we would bring in a battered CD player and listen to Cay, Everclear, Aphex Twin and V.A.S.T. then finish work and go out drinking and partying until the afternoon.

We continued that cycle until, slowly, things started to fall apart.

I worked too many hours in a job that I loved/hated, my relationship was unravelling through no small fault of my own. We split up and it caused a fracture in our friendship group that took over 2 years for me to mend.  

Cay played the Reading festival in 2000. It was weird to think how much had changed in the last 12 months. Due to complications I was unable to see what would turn out to be one of their last gigs. Those that witnessed it said that it wasn’t right, that Anet was sloppy and amateurish, possibly high.
And that was it, they were gone. A few years later I did a stint at HMV, during my training on how to use the search engine on the shop's computer I found that they had released a single called ‘Resurrexit’.

Later I moved in with a guy who had all of Cay’s early stuff like ‘Seven Schizo's sat on a Bench’ and a lot of the vinyl versions of their singles. Around that same time I finished writing my first novel, secluded in the study of my parents’ new house over a long weekend. The soundtrack was Cay, Pretty Girls Make Graves, and Meanwhile, Back in Communist Russia. I started my second novel and called it ‘Neurons like Brandy’ after a Cay song. Over a beer, the guy I lived with and I joked that if I ever got the book published we would use the vinyl art as the cover for my book and try and provoke the former members out of hiding to sue me and find out what happened to the band. That was in 2004 and I still haven't finished the novel.

And so I got older but that dirty garage band stayed with me.

I had two of their T-Shirts that eventually I had to throw away, they were more holes than T-Shirt and as much as it pained me it felt like it was time to let go.

Last weekend I visited the friend I’d lived with back in the day. He now lives in Leeds and still has a great music collection. I saw Nature Creates Freaks sitting on his shelf and commented on it. We grinned and talked about how it was a great album, I told him it was still on my MP3 player. And then he hit me with:

“You know she’s dead, right?”

The news didn't really sink in until I was on the train back, in some ways I just didn't want to believe it. As soon as I got home I looked it up, hoping that it was some kind of mistake.

On June 15th 2011, it was announced that Anet Mook was hit by a bus (or train depending on who you read) in Amsterdam.

From the post written by the drummer at the time of her funeral she was clearly not easy to work with and it was obvious that she had her issues. I knew so little about her but she was most definitely my hero and it shames me that I only get to bury her now.
So, as a tribute I am planning to start something next week as my new project.

Pt. 23 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 8: Isaac



Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read.

Below is the recounting of the main character's, Dan, housemate Isaac

Pt. 22 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 9: Present




Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read.

This returns to the present after DJ Henry Kissinger's madness. Read on:

Pt. 21 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 4: Henry Kissinger



Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read.



In between the other chapters are the mindless rambles of an insane DJ - Henry Kissinger - and the current chapter is focused on the fourth incursion. Read away, although I would recommend you start from the beginning if you haven't already.

Pt. 20 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 8: Present

Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read.

After the last chapter, which focused on Oli, the novel switches back to the present and focuses on the main character's, Dan, descent.

Pt. 19 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 7: Oli


Neurons Like Brandy is a long running project of mine that I have been trying to finish for about 8 years. It focuses on a house in Brighton after the zombie apocalypse has passed, with flashbacks told by one of the remaining survivors every other chapter.

The chapter numbering is a little confusing so if this is your first time here and you are interested in reading more then I would recommend starting at the index where each of the chapters are ordered in the manner that they are meant to be read. 

Otherwise, welcome to chapter 7 of the flashbacks this focuses on Oli.


Pt. 18 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 7: Present

 Welcome to the new home of Neurons Like Brandy, a novel a recommenced about a year ago as a dedication to the singer from a band I used to listen to called Cay. Her name was Anet Mook. 

Neurons Like Brandy is a zombie book, I know pretty much everyone is sick of zombie stories what with yet another twist on the genre called 'Warm Bodies' coming (it is out already if you are in North America) I would ask you to take the time to read this one. War Z might be more holistic but you write about what you know and this is mine.

For whatever reason this is your first chapter, I would recommend you go to the index and start from the beginning. 

Pt. 17 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 6: Duck

 Welcome to part 16 of Neurons Like Brandy, this episode is dedicated to Duck's flashback. This one is slightly apart from the other recounts and will tie in with future chapters, so bear with me as it eventually pays off.
As always if this is your first time here, don't start with this chapter, instead I recommend going to the index and starting there.
I know it must be shocking for some people to see two episodes out so close together but hey, I had a good week.

Pt. 16 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 6: Present

This chapter was another struggle as there was quite a bit of random weirdness. For reference there is about a 1 year break I took between writing this Chapter and the previous one. This was also when I decided to introduce the first chapter as a portent. There are a couple of real 'fuck you's in there with me deciding to completely abandon story arcs just because I felt like it felt more real to do so. One that is abandoned in this chapter is one that I have entertained shitting all over in the fourth book I wanted to write (I remember calling it my 'Jay and Silent Bob strikes back').

This chapter gets a bit weird and I think it reflects where I was at when writing it. I think I had realised that I need to start thinking about the end of the book and heading in that direction, so I did.
If you have come here randomly by searching for Cay (and I know that you are out there, I have proof) then this is part of a long running story and you can find all of the chapters here.

Pt. 15 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 5: Orfax

Am trying to set something up separately in the next couple of weeks and at that point Badger Commander is going to change again, or well, change back.
This week is a Orfax's turn to talk about the onset of the end of the world.
For those a bit behind go to the index.
Otherwise, read below the break.

Pt. 14 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 5: Present


Welcome to another episode of Neurons Like Brandy. Apologies that the updates are becoming less frequent. The chapters are harder to update as they need more work, events need to change, character motivation oscilates and needs to be balanced. Whole swathes of text are being rewritten as you read this and it is way, way harder than I had first imagined. 
The last chapter was told from Jocelyn's perspective and I am pretty happy with it. This episode, not so much, I've been agonising over it for about two weeks in between doing a couple of short road trips.
Things are moving along in the household but I am not entirely sure that they are moving along at the correct pace. Too fast maybe?
Anyway, as usual, if you have come here for the first time and are interested in reading a zombie novel. Go to the full index here.

Pt. 13 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 4: Jocelyn

Apologies about taking so long to update this blog, I've been violently ill for the last week and the little time that I haven't been in a fever half-dream I've been playing Borderlands 2. That or getting stuck into XCOM: Enemy Unknown, there is nothing like a disease and a digital distraction to knock you off the rails. Also after the last chapter in which it became clear that the household are not as alone as they would like to imagine the next chapter was another tough one to write as it follows Jocelyn one of the more sorely underwritten characters. Again, heavy changes have been made from the original draft so I imagine there are going to be a few goofs in there but overall I reckon that this pushes the story in the direction that I want it to go in. Hopefull you enjoy.
If you have missed a chapter then head to the index for links.

Pt. 12 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 3: DJ Henry Kissinger

This is a short one for Friday, given that Borderlands 2 is out right now and I am deperately trying to make sure that does not affect my output. This is another outpouring from DJ Henry Kissinger and it is about as nonsensical as it will ever get.
If, for some reason, you have come here for the first time. Check out the index page and start from the beginning.

Pt. 11 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 4: Present

       4: Present              “Yes.” Dan managed. “But that was a long time ago.”
    “I was going to tell Phillip about us. I really was.” Caryn gestured with her hand. “I knew he wasn’t going to like it so I was waiting for the right time. Then as time passed it just got worse and worse. I was worried he was going to get angry or suspicious. I still can't believe that I didn't say something at the time, even that I knew you before.”
    “No, I understand.” Dan conceded “I didn’t say anything either. That might have had something to do with the fact that I had just watched your boyfriend sort-of kill about fifteen people.”
  There was an uncomfortable silence.
  It was broken by Caryn standing up abruptly; pulling her arm away from Dan she tugged most of the cover out of his grip. Sloppily she turned on her heels then turned back and bent over him to place a kiss on his forehead.
              “Goodnight.” She whispered.
              “See you tomorrow.” He returned.
  After Caryn was gone he drank the rest of his beer.
  He mulled over his and Caryn's relationship, it had been almost four years since they had split up. It had been with good reason as well, he wanted to blame the drinking or the smoking but the reality was that he had been a pretty terrible person and had continued to be a terrible person until he met Nu. As soon as he started thinking about her the pain started, it seeped through his shoulders and down into his chest. For a few seconds it was as if his ribs were trying to break out through the skin, he was struggling to catch his breath. He took another drink and the pain subsided, he took a few more and it went away completely. 
              “Go figure.” He muttered to himself.
  He started to feel sleepy so he got up to go to bed, noting that there was still some of the 'Medronho' left. He took the bottle with him and sauntered down the stairs.
  He lay down in his bed, too tired to take his clothes off, he took a couple more swigs before drifting off he noted with some satisfaction, that the sun was coming up.
 
             “How are you doing?” Nufonia asked.
             “What?” Dan managed, there seemed to be something trying to choke him.
  There she was standing in front of him as she had looked on that day, there was a sign above her, but the letters kept jumbling up, sometimes they read SHINING STRIKE, and then it was BILL'S NILLS, and then Dan couldn't tell.
             “You look like you are in trouble.” She said quietly.
             “I.... am.”Dan struggled, trying to get his breath.
             “I need your help. I can't...” Nufonia hesitated.
             “You can't?” Dan felt the tension around his neck increase.
  Dan was woken by shouting. He reached out and tried to grasp on to the image of Nufonia that had been in his head, his fingers snatched at air and duvet. He gathered his senses as he realised he was in his bed under his sheets and sweating heavily. Looking around he saw the empty bottle of booze by his bed and the clock said 11AM. The shouting started again.
              “You lying bastard!”
  The declaration had come from outside the flat.
  At that exact moment his hangover kicked in and it was a devastating one.
              “You fucking wanker, don't even try to lie to me, you cunt!” Dan vaguely recognised Alison's voice. “Get the fuck away from me and go fuck your whore!”
  He winced as she continued to shout. It felt like something had shoved nails underneath his skull and poured bleach on his scalp. Alison continued to hurl abuse at, Dan presumed, Phil B.
  Then he heard footfalls up the stairs.
  It was then that his hang over really kicked in. A huge gloriously evil pain started in the center of his skull and spread out until it was sawing against the walls of his cranium like a million rusty, serrated knives. Dan lay still as the pain changed its intent of just ripping all the nerve endings in his brain apart and began to leak down his cheeks and into his teeth causing him to tense up and grit his teeth, the muscles in his neck tensed up.
  He closed his eyes, but the agony was there in the sockets of his eyeballs stretching out to his pupils through the capillaries in the whites. Dan groaned as a door slammed somewhere in the house. He couldn't understand why they were so loud. He admitted that the hangover was bad but never as bad as to make sounds so amplified.
  Then the mattress sagged as something put weight on it.
  It was one of his worst nightmares, to be caught off guard when the zombies finally got into the house, countless times he had woken up scared by images of being powerless as they bit and tore at him while he lay in bed.
  Dan flipped forward, his hangover forgotten, his heart pumping he forced the creature on to the floor using the duvet as a barrier between them. With a million thoughts pounding through his mind, Dan was about to smack the thing in the head when it gave a squeal of surprise and delight.
  Panting, he scrambled back on to the bed. Staring down at the covered figure, Dan realised that it wasn't a zombie at all.
  Jo's head appeared from under the covers. She gave him a doe-eyed look and an apologetic smile cut across her face.
              “Sorry the doors were open.” She said picking herself up.
              “... Yeah, sorry.” Dan said, trying to calm down.
  She got up and handed him his duvet. He took it and lay back down; the painful pins of his hangover were traveling to his gut now as well. He pulled the cover up to his chin and looked up at Jo a little pathetically.
              “Poor baby,” she sat down next to him, and fussed with his hair, “too much to drink?”
  Dan nodded, finding that, despite himself, he was enjoying the feel of her soft fingers on his brow.
              “So,” she started casually. “What did you do last night? Apart from get drunk.”
              “Nothing really, you?” He managed.
  He looked up at her; through his fingers he could make out that she was giving him her demure act, part blushing modesty, part devilish knowing. She maintained that smile and squinted her eyes as she regarded him.
“Not much.” She finally answered.
  She leaned forward and pulled down his covers a bit.
“You're still dressed.” She commented her grin unwavering.
              “I didn't know I was supposed to take anything off.” He replied.
  Her eyes widened, the first time he had seen that expression he had mistaken it for a look of shock, as if she was saying 'I can't believe you would suggest that!'. Now he knew better, it was her delighting in what she was now entertaining.
              “I read somewhere.” She stopped to take off her top. “That the old excuse of having a headache is bollocks and that having sex is the best antidote for them.”
              “Really?” He couldn't hold back a smile.
  She got up and closed his bedroom door.
              “Yup.”
              “I don't believe you.”
              “Well it is something we should put to the test.” Her bra was off now.
              “What about Orfax and Jocelyn?”
  She stiffened slightly, he knew he shouldn't have said it but he couldn't have helped it. She relaxed again and started to unbuckle her belt.
              “You can be an arsehole when you want to, can't you?” She said a little stiffly, her smile twitched.
  He wanted to apologise, but wasn’t sure what to say.
    “Is that it?” Her smile starting to fade.
    “I just thought.” He searched for the words but realised he wasn’t sure what he thought, why he had even said what he had said in the first place.
  She turned away and started putting on her bra, muttering under her breath. Dan sat up and reached for her, she snapped her arm away from his hand.
    “Do you know what?” Jo turned to look at him.
  He looked at her, still unable to articulate.   
    “Ugh, of course you don’t have anything to say. You are too busy thinking about her aren’t you?” Jo snapped. 
    “No.”
    “I miss her too.” Jo said finding her top. “However, I am trying to move on.”
    Jo left the room, slamming the door. Dan rolled over and let the hangover swallow him up.

 The barbecue was to start late afternoon, Dan managed to get upstairs by three to find that things had already begun to roll. The fire had been abandoned and the group was now taking advantage of a self-contained portable drum barbecue. Jay stood over it and basted the items with something he proclaimed as his secret recipe.
  Orfax and Jo showed about 40 minutes later. Orfax was looking more sober than he had in days. Everyone started to sit down as food was served. Dan dumped himself down between Caryn and Oli and tucked into a non-descript meat.
  Oli patted him on the shoulder.
          “Hey, how's it going?”
  The comment grated, as it always did when Dan was hungover, he always found it miraculous how such an innocent question could make him gnash his teeth, maybe because he had heard it a thousand times.
          “Not bad.” Dan managed to smile. “Did you sleep okay?”
          “A bit cold, but not bad.” Oli smiled, his attention swayed as Duck walked onto the roof. “Now excuse me, if you know what I mean.”
          “No offense taken.” Dan said.
  The sun was out and he kind of liked it, he took a few, tentative bites of the heavily condimented meat. He looked across at Jo who was making a fuss of Orfax. At first he thought the whole thing seemed a little exaggerated and it dawned on him that she was pointedly not looking at him. This was her way of saying ‘fuck you’. 
  Likewise Alison and Phil B. were clearly not talking, something to do with the morning's argument, no one bothered to inquire. This was a regular occurrence; the idea of trying to pry was stupid. Caryn had once attempted to talk to Alison after a severe encounter that had earned her a string of vitriolic abuse.
  Philip got up and started handing around cigars to everyone who would take one. He came up to Dan with a big grin, it was obvious he had been drinking, and stuck one in Dan's mouth.
  Dan mused, as Philip lit the cheroot, to assume that Philip had been drinking was like saying that the sun would follow the moon.
  Puffing slowly on the wad in his mouth, Dan grabbed a beer from the table and went and sat on the edge of the roof and looked down. He could remember the mounting horror that he had felt a few weeks after they had sealed off the ground floor forever and he had looked down from the same point, the view had been similar. Around three hundred zombies teemed around the building, and maybe a hundred more wandered the square. At the time Dan had felt like he was going to throw up with how scared he was, he never would have believed that he might have been able curl up a lump of phlegm in his mouth, spit and smile as it spiraled in the coastal winds and eventually disappeared into the mass of hands and faces below him.
  Dan took another puff of the cigar and curled it around his tongue and thought about Gray as he looked at the stragglers joining the main body surrounding their house. Poor old Gray had thought that the things used smell to track the living. Dan wasn’t so sure. 
  Zombies were different from dogs and the like; they didn’t raise their noses to the wind and sniff out things at least not in a knowing fashion. It was something that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been around them for as long as he had. They seemed to move by feeling, by waves of instinct and electricity, almost like there was a pulse going through them. He and the others had watched part in awe and part in dismay the first time they had seen hundreds of undead appear from underneath the tide at Brighton beach. The horde then marched up the stones and filtered into the streets, an hour or two later another group walked back into the sea. Jocelyn had commented that they looked like tortoises coming up to lay their eggs during mating season. George had reasoned that maybe they were seasonal. There were weeks where there were more of them, too many to go out. Then, apparently randomly almost all but a few dozen would leave. At first Dan and the others had thought it might be that the creatures had gotten bored, or that another target had come into the vicinity. Some of the house (the really hopefully) still believed that there was a chance that this was true, Dan didn't know anymore. He imagined that, maybe, they had some kind of schedule, like a zombie Easter, Christmas, summer solstice, Hanukkah, whatever; that they had some kind set dates for things that ran on completely different time scale. George had agreed with Dan’s observations. Before he had been killed, George had drunkenly talked about the idea that they were somehow following vibrations or sounds and that was why they moved about with the sea. Thoughts like that hadn’t done George any good though.
  Dan looked away from the seething crowds below him as someone put some music on, it was quiet and sad.
  He took a swig of his beer and looked down on the zombies five stories below again, reaching, clasping for where they were. Dan felt himself shudder uncontrollably as he remembered the time he had almost been bitten; the creature had broken its teeth on the steel toe cap of his boot. Even so he had felt the pressure, the power that an old lady of eighty could never have possessed in her life clamping down on his shoe. A couple more inches and it would have been him down in that crowd with Denny-
              “You alright man?” Phil B. sat down next to him.
              “I think so.” Dan managed, trying not to think about that old lady that he had mercilessly beaten, no matter how dead she had already been. “Just hungover. You know how it gets when you drink; it is like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.”
              “Yeah.” Phil B. looked in Alison's direction, she was pointedly ignoring him. “I know what you mean. Everything smells wrong as well.”
  Dan smiled, clamping down on the cigar as he did.
              “Look,” Phil started but then hesitated.
              “What?” Dan asked.
              “Well, me and Alison talked about this last week when all this shit wasn't going on.” Phil B. seemed to be picking his words. “Well, it’s just that living here is great, we like it here, and we like you guys... It’s nothing personal. But me and Alison are thinking about moving on.”
          “Okay.” Dan responded, unsure why he was being told this.
  Then as Phil B. started speaking Dan realised what he meant.
          “Well I know Craig will come too, that is, if we go.” Phil B stumbled around his sentence as if looking for the right words. “Well, there'll be a spare seat.”
          “Do you think that Philip will let you go?” Dan asked, dabbing the cigar ash off the edge of the building. He took a swig of beer; it tasted mildly of the cheroot.
          “It's not his choice, is it?”
          “He won't be happy.”
          “You reckon.” Dan couldn't decide if Phil B. was making a statement or posing a question.
          “Why are you asking me?” Dan asked. “I know that there is a reason, but surely there is someone else, other than me who is more likely to want to go.”
          “Surely you can see this situation is fucked.”
          “I had noticed that the world was infested with zombies, yes.” Dan almost caught himself smiling.
          “You know what I mean.” Phil B. poked him jokingly but it didn't feel like much of a joke. Dan had been here at the beginning of the house, he couldn't imagine leaving before the end.
  The music changed, something heavy, like late eighties metal, Pantera maybe.
  Dan looked down at the fans and waved.
    “Phil it isn't going to happen, I'm not leaving.”
    “We can't just stay here though.”
    “Why not?”
    “There might be more people out there, somewhere safer, with a better food supply.”
    “I'm not sure I believe there is anywhere else, that there is anyone else, not anymore.”
 As if in response to Dan, a car appeared on the main road, plowed into a bunch of stragglers dawdling on the tarmac; it then careered onto the pavement and into the rail that cordoned off the upper level of the beach.
  Perfect timing, Dan thought.

Pt. 10 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 3: Caryn

Originally this chapter of NLB was going to be split into two parts. The thing is, I couldn't find a decent place to break the chapter in two so I decided to put the entire 6500 words here instead.

If this is your first time here, go to the index to start from the beginning.

This chapter, jumps back to Caryn's perspective, in terms of time line, well you'll be able to see. Any feedback would be much appreciated.

Pt. 9 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 2: DJ Henry Kissinger

      2: The DJ Henry Kissinger show
  And what had you resolved? I mean think about it.
  Iraq, Israel, Afghanistan, not that we paid all that much attention to that last country once you'd blown the shit out of it. North Korea, standing there, nuclear war ever imminent, but not imminent, at the same time.
  Charlton Heston encouraging the fear of God in everyone by making America buy more guns. I can imagine that if there are any left alive, they're probably as safe as can be. Pot-shooting undead with their military modified M-16's that they bought from the local supermarket, or that they got free when they opened up their new bank account. Obviously I am exagerating, you can’t shoot an airbourne disease. An estimated half the population keeled over only just to get up to eat the other half.
  But hey, whether you liked it or not. You were fucked way before the plague and zombies.
  That said, the undead walk the earth now, but is that any different to the way it was before?
  More and more of you were seeking love, friendship and sex on the Internet, using electronic means to find fulfillment. Children enjoying computer games more than sport, obesity levels increasing in lazy countries across the globe.
  Self-help seminars being paid for by lost drones, searching for answers from some slick haired yuppie that couldn't find his arse with a flashlight, map and both hands untied, yet they know how to spell 'enlightenment' and that is good enough. It should be depressing if it wasn’t so fucking funny, the brain dead masses flocking to their supposed saviours and finding gratification in religions that tell us we are descended from aliens.
 Diseases like bird flu, mad cow's disease and my personal favourite Foot and Mouth that create paranoia. Paranoia that makes people point fingers, which is encouraged by the government so that they can just say 'Aw heck it's those darn terrorists agin'.
   You used to swallow it all like some skag addicted whore. All of you, okay maybe not all of you, but enough of you really believed that you'd die if you went near a penguin. You made bigger barriers between you and your neighbours most of you were cutting off any possible interaction with real people. Instead, learning all your facts about life from rap videos and celebrity magazines.
  So here's a theory for you all.
  You were already dead, long before zombies came along and started drilling the message home. Your satellite television, your fence to firmly sit on and swivel, nothing but middle ground and mediocrity with denial as the only tool.
  I'm sorry no more pre-sliced white bread, no more micro-waveable meals, no more fast food or Steven Seagal movies. Now all you have is a clock, an invisible clock that counts down your time left on planet earth. Not that it wasn't there already just now you have to realise that life on earth can really, really suck.
  What else is there left to do?
  You tell me, you mindless, living dead. Now that it is over, you are living in expectancy of your own demise, waiting for that clock to stop.
  Now I apologise for not being the biggest spreader of hope today, for not being the best father:
  'I'm sorry son you can't have a new scooter, I spent it on crack.'
  But I'm Henry Kissinger, and well, I don't have to be your bastion of hope.
  I'm just going to let the music do the talking for me.
  If anyone is listening, press record now. Here is Tricky and Martina Topley-Bird doing a cover of Public Enemy's 'Black Steel'. After that I might put on Aereogramme's 'No Really, Every thing's Fine' then, who knows?
  Just remember, 'the suckers' don't have any authority now.
At least that's one consolation

Pt. 8 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 3: Present

This is Part 7 that returns to the present day, the group in the household are setting up a party and things are starting to twist and turn.
If you have accidentally arrived here by googling something like Neurons Like Brandy (number four on google search don't you know? - this means that the remaining 5 Cay fans have found this) then I would recommend that you go to the index and start from the beginning. Trust me, it will mostly be worth it. For those of you here for another installment, read on. Do me a favour though, retweet the index link, link it on an appropriate forum, or like this post as I would appreciate any genuine exposure. That or some recommendations of where to plug this shit as I have no fucking idea where I should go.
Anyway, enjoy.  

Pt. 7 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 2B: Phillip

Apologies for the delay, have been trying to get some work done for Arcadian Rhythms as I promised a bunch of articles and only managed one on the rather ill-conceived Outernauts post.
This is part 2 of Phillip’s chapter, the first part is concluded with Phillip and Isaac’s sister, Sam, at the foot of the building that will later be their home with several undead sprawled out at the foot of the steps.

The final line from last part was:
          “Philip, I can buzz their apartment.” Sam pointed out.

Pt. 6 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 2A: Phillip

The next chapter is over 8000 words so rather than put up all in one go I've split it into two sections; Pt 6.1 goes up now and I am trying to get the second part up by the end of the week. The chapter follows Phillip and his recount of the days building up to the end. For those of you coming to this for the first time I recommend going to the index and start from the beginning.
As for the rest you read below for more.

Pt. 5 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 1: Henry Kissinger

Welcome back to Neurons Like Brandy - Pt 5. This is a short post and will make no sense unless you go to the index and read the previous installments.

Pt. 4 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 2: Present

Although I imagine that most people reading this will be here from previous visits, if you have come here accidentally and are interested in zombie novels then I would recommend you start from the index and work your way forward.

Below is back in the Present after Jo's details of the madness impending. Enjoy.

Pt. 3 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 1: Jo

Welcome to the third part of Neurons Like Brandy. If you have not read anything at all, I would strongly recommend that you go back to the index and check that out first as you will be missing out on continuity. Those that are back for another dose, I hope you enjoy as this took another massive re-write, with over 2000 words added to the mix as well. Even then I would say that it is worth checking the index page for info on upcoming chapters and extras.  

Pt. 2 - Neurons Like Brandy Chapter 1: Present

This took a lot of work, and still is far from perfect, I dread the fact that people have read this in its standard format. At the time I seemed to have very special opinions about how punctuation was used and I reckon I wrote everything with a Christopher Walken cadence.
The second part is below the break, if you have not read the first part you can find the index, it will be updated as new episodes are implemented. I'll soon have a header and some other stuff so that you are not just reading through huge swathes of text. For those of you that are reading this for a second time (all three of you). there is reason to re-read! I have changed stuff.

Pt. 1 - Neurons Like Brandy - Chapter 1: ?


    1…
  Dan lay very still.
  He could hear a girl screaming in the distance but he wasn't sure where it was coming from.
  Something dripped onto his left eyelid, for some reason he knew it was blood.
  There was some crashing, these were more muffled than the screaming. He could feel fluid sliding into his ear now.
  He attempted to open his eyes. The blood dripping into his left socket stung and so he closed them again.
  There were some more shouts, he felt a throbbing in his throat and head grow as his consciousness expanded. It hurt, it hurt a lot and it drowned out the shouting.
  He forced his eyelids open again. The blood had already started to dry and he could feel it crack as the skin over his eyeballs shuttered open. His fingers, only inches from his face, registered carpet texture under his fingertips.
  After a moment, he managed to focus on what lay in front of him. Not too far from his own,  incumbent form lay another body. He didn't recognise it, but felt he should.
  Shouting cut through his pain. He tried to move but couldn’t then some smashing of objects occured, the shouting stopped abruptly but the sounds of destruction continued.
  Then there was a gunshot, followed by three more. He heard something that sounded like laughter, or cackling or maybe screeching it was hard to tell.
  There was nothing after that.
  He tried to move his head and found it easier than it should have been in light of the agony he was in. Shouldn't I be dead? He thought.
“Maybe I am dead,’ he whispered, “maybe this is what happens when you are dead.”
  After what felt like a monumental amount of time, Dan managed to make the hand in front of his face push himself up. He looked at the body and tried to focus on it from his more upright position but the rush of blood to his head made his vision blur. He tried to prop himself against something and found a wall behind him. Things were quiet.
  Dan managed to look around the room he was in. It was his and Nu's. He looked again at the body that remained unmoving, then he recognised it.
   ‘Shit’
  There were footsteps on the stairwell outside the flat; heavy, clunking boot steps. They resonated throughout the building because it was practically empty.
They reached Dan's floor and he could hear the door to his apartment open and then the footsteps move towards the room he was in.
  ‘Shit,' he sighed as he remembered everything, 'it's Him.'
  The footsteps paused and the front door opened with the familiar squeak that Dan and Isaac had been trying to get rid of for ages. Then He walked into the room.
Dan eyed Him as defiantly as he could given his situation.
“So, come to finish off the job?”
“Oh, I already did.”
“What do you mean?”
              “What's your name?”
              “Why should-
              “Because, I want to know.”
              “Dan.”
              “Dan, there is some good news and some bad news. Before I tell you either I'm going to need your full attention. Wake up.”
  ‘Oh shit’

Neurons Like Brandy - The index


Welcome to Neurons Like Brandy. This started out on an older website and has migrated due to the host's demise.

Neurons Like Brandy is a Zombie story, it is the second part of a planned trilogy. Don't worry you don't have to have read the first book, which isn't yet available online, to get into this. Think of it as the middle part of John Carpenter's Apocalypse trilogy or Kevin Smith's first three films. The stories aren't really related but they are linked, sometimes by characters, sometimes just by themes.

This is something I have been trying to do for about 8 years and was restarted as a tribute to one of my heroes, to get that background I would recommend you start with the forewords. 

If this is your first time here you should click on the left hand side and go from there as the oldest posts are supposed to appear in that order.

If you are revisiting, or are here because of the previous site then go beneath the break for links for all posted chapters and articles.