thrice great hermes available now in print and digital formats (2018/08/29)

thrice great hermes - front cover

thrice great hermes

a novel by stanley lieber

184 pgs

5.25" x 8"

print | pdf

ISBN-10: 1724684744
ISBN-13: 978-1724684745

thrice great hermes - back cover

massivefictions.com/hermes
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ACTRON v5, #3 (2018/08/28)

ACTRON v5, #3 - front cover

ACTRON v5, #3

by stanley lieber

12 pgs. original text and illustrations. 4.25" x 5.5". photocopied mini-zine.

available at etsy.com

index
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f print edition (2018/08/16)

f - front cover

f

by stanley lieber

8 pgs. original text and illustrations. 5.5" x 8.5". photocopied mini-zine.

available at etsy.com

f - interior

index
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ACTRON v4, #14 print edition (2018/08/16)

ACTRON v4, #14 - front cover

ACTRON v4, #14

by stanley lieber

8 pgs. original text and illustrations. 5.5" x 8.5". photocopied mini-zine.

available at etsy.com

ACTRON v4, #2 - interior

index
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ACTRON v5, #2 (2018/07/24)

ACTRON v5, #2 - front cover

ACTRON v5, #2

by stanley lieber

12 pgs. original text and illustrations. 4.25" x 5.5". photocopied mini-zine.

signed and numbered in an edition of 23 by the author.

available at etsy.com

ACTRON v5, #2 - folding photocopies

index
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1OCT1993 (3rd edition) available now in print and digital formats (2018/07/09)

1OCT1993 - front cover

1OCT1993 (3rd edition)

a novel by stanley lieber

updated with corrections, december 2017

332 pgs

5.25" x 8"

print | pdf | txt

ISBN-10: 1722186666
ISBN-13: 978-172218666

1OCT1993 - back cover

1oct1993.com
patreon






🌀 available now in print and digital formats (2018/06/29)

🌀 - front cover

🌀

a novel by stanley lieber

184 pgs

5.25" x 8"

print | pdf | txt

ISBN-10: 197842034X
ISBN-13: 978-1978420342

BOOK ONE: MARS2

  1. BASEMENT LIFE
  2. FLAT EYES
  3. FAIRE LA PERRUQUE, WHATEVS
  4. JERK VIZIER
  5. DEFINE COLOR
  6. I DOUBT IT
  7. HEY, WEIRD SHOES
  8. GRID
  9. DEEP CAPTURE
  10. INFINITE SUBBASEMENT
  11. THE INTERFACE TO SECURITY
  12. LATCHKEY PIRATE
  13. ATLAS SHIT
  14. DIVORCEE CANYON
  15. TIGHT IMPRESSIONS
  16. DASH 1
  17. BAJA PIOTR
  18. TODAY WAS CRAP
  19. THE SCARLET WOMAN
  20. YOU HAD TWO SONS, MY GHOST HAS NO HEAD

BOOK TWO: • • •

  1. HELLO, CRUEL WORLD
  2. IT'S A DIFFERENT WORLD
  3. OUR ENEMIES ARE FLAT
  4. TIMES OF ENJOYMENT
  5. FUCK NO, SCHLUMPFE
  6. GOAT LAB
  7. THE GOLDEN ASS
  8. DARK WALLET
  9. SPIRALS
  10. SPIRALS, PT. 2
  11. SPIRALS, PT. 3
  12. SUBPLOT
  13. BLACK ACURA
  14. FRANK THE GOAT
  15. ICHABOD CRIME
  16. THE SHIP'S CAT
  17. APPLIQUE
  18. YOUR DENSITY
  19. THE FABLIAUX

BOOK THREE: THE SEPTEMBER THAT ENDED

  1. THINK OF THIS
  2. GRAY GLOVES
  3. THE FOURTH MAN
  4. LOYALTY DAY
  5. MORALE CHECK
  6. DECK 25
  7. BLUEBIRD
  8. BRASS CEILING
  9. UNDERCUT
  10. THIS WAY TO EGRESS
  11. LATERAL DISCONNECT
  12. THANKS, BRANDON!
  13. MING THE CLAM
  14. LITTLE GREEN MEN
  15. SAM'S CLUB™
  16. THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE
  17. אוּרִיאֵל
  18. THE HALF IS BETTER THAN THE WHOLE
  19. THE GREEN ALWAYS GROWS
  20. THE SEPTEMBER THAT ENDED

🌀 - back cover

1f300.com
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ACTRON v5, #1 (2018/06/26)

ACTRON v5, #1 - front cover

ACTRON v5, #1

by stanley lieber

12 pgs. original text and illustrations. 4.25" x 5.5". photocopied mini-zine.

signed and numbered in an edition of 23 by the author.

available at etsy.com

HAUS MOLD

ACTRON v5, #1 - front cover, WIP

ACTRON v5, #1 - folding photocopies

index
patreon






_ #45 (2018/05/07)

_

#45

by stanley lieber

He wasn’t Cameron, or Andrew, or Shinji, or Carmine, or Stan, or Daisuke, or Daisuke’s boss. He wasn’t even himself. He knew that now. It had all been built up, on top of him, to provide him with a framework in which to answer the questions they wanted to ask.

The interrogation never ended. The interrogator never left. The questions were always still being asked.

He tried to remember each phase, the details, but already it was all slipping away. How was he supposed to tell the interrogator what he wanted to hear when he couldn’t even keep track of the construct used to pry it out of him? It was all he could do to respond, at all. He simply didn’t know the answers.

Let’s try again: Cameron and Andrew, dead. Shinji (sorry, Carmine), dead. Shinji... he didn’t know. Stan, back at the Post Office (unless he was at home, or out on his route). Daisuke, doing some job for his boss. Daisuke’s boss remained a mystery.

He was pretty sure that he had gotten all of that right, but there was never any indication of how the interrogator was taking what he was saying. Just more questions. The cell door would creak and he would be alone again. The cell door would creak and he would have company. After a while he stopped trying to distinguish the two states. To him, it was all the same.

Geo sat on the floor.

The frame dissolved.

Plot concludes.

index
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new stripes by mitch trale, used without permission.






_ #44 (2018/05/07)

_

#44

by stanley lieber

He was given full run of the half-pipe for one hour a week. Privileges could be, and were, revoked over the slightest infractions, perceived or otherwise. He was never explicitly told the rules, but he was able to piece together a working definition through a process of trial and error.

Back to his cell.

They were trying to convince him he was someone else. They would ask the second person questions about the real him, get him talking about himself in the third person. Cute. He wondered what they really wanted to know. At some point he decided that he was not going to give it to them. Immediately, his life took a turn for the worse.

No more skating for Geo. They’d broken him down, built him back up again without the desire to skate. His new focus would be the mission. Because of this new configuration he wouldn’t even miss it. Besides, with his pending workload about to explode, there just wouldn’t be time for hobbies.

His thriving business likewise fell away. All that remained, all that he could see his way clear to think about, was the mission.

Details of which arrived presently.

And it was all too much. The data dump overwhelmed his ability to file the incoming bits. He couldn’t perceive, couldn’t interpret. How was he supposed to secure the objective?

He attacked it like a skating problem: plan the approach, gauge his time in the air, figure out where the wheels would touch the ground.

Skate the gap.

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_ #43 (2018/05/03)

_

#43

by stanley lieber

Geo wasn’t certain when the interrogation had begun. Searching his memory it seemed that the interrogator had always been there. He strained upwards, craning his neck toward the aperture centered far above his head. Save for this solitary shaft of light, the tall narrow cell was completely devoid of illumination.

Geo felt around on the floor, his hands trailing through damp puddles. He realized now that he had wet himself, maybe several times.

How long had he been down here?

Always?

The interrogator was apparently taking a break. Geo used this opportunity to get his story straight. Whatever this was about, Geo had had nothing to do with it. It would be easy for him to sell this explanation because Geo honestly had no idea what he had done.

Had he in fact done anything?

The cell door creaked.

Day after day he kept track. He gave up trying to count after he noticed that he’d filled every available surface with marks. It seemed to him now that the only life he could remember was his life in the cell. His only friend was the interrogator. Was this how they’d planned it? With him able to recall only his captivity? The interrogator asked questions that pertained only to his previous life. At this point Geo just didn’t know.

What if the interrogator was himself? Geo had approached this most prickly proposition several times, but the environment always colluded to distract him. What could it be they wanted him to tell himself that he didn’t already know?

The cell door creaked.

Geo was led outside, into an implausibly bright, sunlit half-pipe, seemingly constructed to competition standards. The guard issued him a blue plastic skateboard with chunky yellow wheels. Geo just didn’t get it. What was he supposed to do? He rubbed his eyes.

The guard withdrew, locking the exterior door behind him.

Geo was alone.

"Skate," his little voice said.

index
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_ #42 (2018/05/02)

_

#42

by stanley lieber

    PERSONAL INVENTORY

    - I don’t fall down.  Others shatter against me and fall down.

    - I am not hurt.  I feel nothing at all.

    - I don’t know what any of this means.

Geo felt that there must have been a reason why he was chosen as the custodian of these remarkable powers, but he had no idea why someone like himself should have been chosen.

It didn’t matter. His schedule was full of meetings and he didn’t have time to think about it. He’d shoulder the burden and sort out the philosophical questions when he had a moment of spare time. Which would be never.

It was funny, he realized that this was the decision he was making, even as he made it. Call it a rare moment of honesty with himself. He terminated the inventory.

He’d think back to that original costume sewn while watching TV. Had some random show or commercial influenced him? He supposed that this was a general question rather than something specific to the context of his career as a super-hero. To be honest he couldn’t remember most of the shows he had watched back them. Busy with his work, he had only occasionally glanced up at the screen.

The modern version of his logo had, of course, been modified from that original design. Let’s say streamlined. It served well enough.

One of his minor annoyances was constantly being asked to explain the symbolism. Why had he chosen the American flag motif? As if it should need to be explained. He guessed that it did. And so he would suggest that it had all been a joke. This usually worked. His interrogator would laugh, wink at him, and then move on to something else.

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_ #39 (2018/04/30)

_

#39

by stanley lieber

Of course, no number of boards would ever be enough. After his bedroom was full he began stacking them in the garage. This drew complaints from his mother, who aside from the space considerations also had questions about some of the deck graphics. Geo promised to get rid of (some of) them.

This led to his part-time business buying, selling, and trading skateboards. If anything, it only exacerbated the problem. Now he also needed a large work area where he could package up and label the boards. His mom gave up complaining when he started paying for his own food and clothes.

Geo’s best customers were his friends. They had made fun of his super-hero costume, but now it had become a sort of group mascot. He devised a logo based on the costume and had it made into a rubber stamp for marking the bottom of the decks he sold. It was popular with his friends.

Presently, Geo’s biggest problem was that he was getting bored with skateboarding. Not the business. The business was fine. But with skating itself. He told no one about this crisis of faith, and the profits continued to pour in.

When Geo finally gave up skating it was for health reasons. His knees, his back, his hips; none of them were working as well as they used to. It made him sad, but what was he supposed to do?

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_ #38 (2018/04/27)

_

#38

by stanley lieber

Geo was patriotic, sure. He had integrated the flag into his costume. Beyond that, he tried to stay out of politics. People just couldn’t get along. He tied the flag bandana around his head to signify that freedom was ever on his mind.

Other constituents of his costume included: football pads, cleats, fingerless gloves, rock t-shirt (stretched and ripped by the pads), loose-fitting cargo shorts. He figured that just about every interest group was represented, somehow, in his ensemble. At this age his view of the big picture was necessarily somewhat constrained.

"America first!" hollered Rolly, as Geo faceplanted, shredding his American flag do-rag on the pavement. His friends found the costume amusing. "These colors don’t run," Wheels observed, as blood from Geo’s fresh wound stained the solemn bandana. "Oh, say, can you see?" asked Kickflip rhetorically, gesturing to Geo’s predicament. On and on in this vein. The comments eventually trailed off as it became apparent that the joke had run its course.

The fact was that no one believed him. Every time he had contrived to demonstrate his new powers, some interruption would occur, like the cops rolling up on their spot, or someone’s mom calling them home for dinner. Even he had to admit that it all sounded like bullshit. But. Ever since he skated that gap something was different. He couldn’t feel pain. He couldn’t feel much of anything. Also, when he was on his skateboard, he could fly.

Like, in the sky.

Ultimately he decided to keep it to himself. No one had believed him anyway. He’d tried being honest but none of his friends had heard him, almost as if they couldn’t perceive the idea. From now on he would proceed under a cover of secrecy.

But... what was there to do? From whence, and to where, was he proceeding? And how would he get there?

First of all, he had to get a new board.

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