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    The Silver Quills of Trey Ravencrest



    "Are you Scandinavian?" asks the ten year old boy next door.
    "No," I reply, puzzled, "why?"
    "Cuz I thought all lesbians were made in Sweden..."

    Well geez, would you believe it? I guess the secret underground breeding of British dykes is finally leaking itself into mainstream society. How terrifying. Why, if it can happen to the quaint, etiquettical English -- it could happen to anyone! Heck. And...and now you're telling me that they actually write about being gay, too?

    Feh.
    Beware, buckos, for here be ruins.



    Who the Hell is Trey Ravencrest?



    To hitchhike across the astral flightpaths
    chose your quill:













    SOMEWHERE DOWN THE ROAD...

    So there's this woman sitting in a diner on Route 66 and she turns to the hitchiker she picked up somewhere in Kansas and she smiles. And she sighs. And she says:

    "Remember that book about the dyke who's
    Really dead but not in heaven, and -
    My God! - there're all those faeries throwing fits
    And all those angel-psycho-skitz and bloody frogs?"

    The hitchiker's nodding as she sips her beer, and hair falls in her eyes as she swallows.
    "Well. Someone wrote that."

    Yeah, someone wrote that. I know, because it was me.

    It's also partly why I've chosen not to update this site recently. I've decided, in a very mean obnoxious way which I'm sure you'll all sock me one for when you have the chance, to temporarily end all public crucifixions of my words upon these pages. Why? Because I reckon that nailing them onto some dusty shelf of cyberspace is a cruel and somewhat wasteful thing to do when I could be letting them wreak chaos on the entire bleedin' world. Y'know? That's not to say I'll be successful, but I have to try. Be it random acts of poetry or the latest havoc-tales of Storn and Benadixia, I swore to someone once that I'd keep publishing until I kicked the bucket. So while I may add a few scraps here and there to the site, don't expect great things from me. At least not until the money starts rolling in *g*

    Keep your nose to the moon,
    And your eyes on the stars.
    -Treydayan




    NEW PUBLICATIONS ET AL:

    For all you word-junkies out there, Babel Magazine (in collaboration with MAMMOTH BOOKS) is schedualed to release a celebration of its finest talent this Fall in the form of a book. They've called it "Rebellious Confessions" and aye, I confessed. Grab a copy or twelve from any half-deent bookstore, or Amazon (for all you peeps too afraid to face the outside world). And while yer at it, why not pick up a copy of "Ghent Magazine" and/or the new-fangled "Und Zen Vat?" 'zine? "Bitch" is my next goal, and I figure I qualify well enough (feh!)
    Battle on, chicas!












    Thirsty for awe?
    For the inevitable newbies of this site who've never heard of the kick-ass illustrator, graphic designer and artist, Kara Stenberg -- who, coincidently enough, also happens to be my girlfriend -- you'd best scoot along to her site, or I'll come huntcha down and fill your pockets with cheese.





    All the works on this site are copyright of Treydayan Ebony Ravencrest
    and may not be reproduced IN ANY WAY without her consent.

    The custom graphics on this site were created by Kara T. Stenberg,
    with the bribery of quite a few chocolate chip cookies.






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