So I got a silver in the kata competition. Video will come later, once I've youtubered it.
Cool
Friends & Family
Writin'
My latest ficlet
Provincial shiai
Friday, March 7, 2008
Tomorrow, sometime, I'll be doing something very much like this:
at a tournament. (Except I only have to do the first nine throws.) Wish me luck!
Flickrblogging — 0463
Sunday, March 2, 2008
"Margaret?"
"Yes, luv?"
"Next time you buy tissues, would you be so kind as to buy the kind with the lotion in 'em?"
"And why's that then?"
"See, luv, when I get a cold, usin' them regular tissues is kind of like usin' sandpaper to blow my nose."
"Oh Hubert, you exaggerate so."
"I ask you, wife of mine, do I look like I'm exaggeratin'?"
"Oh my."
IMG_0463.JPG discovered in Elliott les yeux grands fermés's Flickr photostream.
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My Leap Day ficlet
Friday, February 29, 2008
Written today, the 29th of February:
She planted the seed and waited. After a while rain came down from the sky, pelting her skin, chilling her. She shivered but didn't leave, not yet.
The Sun came out, warming the soil, driving the cold from her bones. She waited. Clouds scudded by overhead, in a hurry for some reason. The moon rose, stars wheeled, and then the Sun rose again.
She didn't just wait, of course. She prayed, she sang, she read the old stories, the myths and the legends. On the seventh day she snoozed under a cloudless sky, waking only briefly when a dragonfly happened to touch down on her nose. She observed its cathedral-window wings, irridescent with refracted sunlight, and drowsed once more after it left her.
Rain, Sun, moon, stars: she endured them all. The seedling broke the soil with a questing green curlicue, looking for all the world like a question mark in the Old Tongue. She sat on it and waited more: days, months, decades.
A boy came along and asked her why she’d climbed to the top of the tree.
"I didn't," she said.
So, again, Mr. TV, we meets.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
TV: Coming up next on NBC: Amnesia, the game show that tests the memory — of you!
Me: Should I trust the writers of a program that couldn't come up with a tagline that scans better, like, say, "the game show that tests your memory!"?
That, by the way, is a rhetorical question.
Flickrblogging — IMG_3206
Monday, February 25, 2008
She said, "Just a little more helium, if you please," and then she slipped away into the sky. Two days later she touched down in Old Dan's meadow, ankle-deep in wildflowers and foxtail. Something had turned her eyes from drab brown to silver, the colour of sun-kissed clouds, and for her nothing was ever the same again.
She was free now, and she damn well knew it.
______
Google is funny
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
So I changed my little blog header the other day, to read "Specializing in treckle lansing disputes". This is, if you don't know, a nod to Vernor Vinge's novel A Fire Upon the Deep, wherein a posting to the Galactic Net (also known as the Net of a Million Lies) from Arbitration Arts Corporation at Firecloud Nebula contains the following:
Arbitration Arts specializes in treckle lansing disputes. As such, we
have few common business interests with natural races or Threats Group.
Now, three or four days later, when I do a Google search for "treckle lansing", this blog is the first hit. Right above all the Russian copies of A Fire Upon the Deep hosted, one suspects illicitly, on the web.
Well, it amused me, anyways.
Everything that never ended
Friday, February 8, 2008
So I've been having kind of mixed feelings about my online serial novel, Everything that never happened, which has been stalled since, oh, August or so. June, if I'm honest with myself. This week I decided to push it to the back burner, and work instead on Salyx, which is my 2006 Nano novel. I've had some good ideas recently for that story, and it's been more and more in the forefront of my writing brain, so it only seemed natural I'd get to it.
But in the last two days, two of my friends (both named John, coincidentally) have inquired about the status of Everything etc. One has read to the first interlude; the other has made it to chapter 8 or so. And so I've started to think that maybe I should push through, and get a first draft completed (which, honestly, is what this particular online novel is).
So in the next little while I'm going to try and do both. I've decided to try using Spacejock's yWriter software to work on Salyx; I may try using it for Everything as well. We'll see how this goes.
If I find I really can't handle two writing projects at once, I guess I'll have to choose. At this point the choice looks like it would fall to Salyx's favour, but who knows? Maybe getting in there, getting my hands dirty with those characters from the spooky, zombie-infested 17th century will rekindle my fervor for Everything.
I hope this post is of interest to someone other than me… but even if it ain't, it's something I wanted to say. Well, write. Well, type.
Dragons of Babel, by Michael Swanwick
Friday, February 8, 2008
This novel arrived in the mail about a day before I headed west, after I'd waited the better part of two weeks for it (and even longer, if you factor in the fact that I pre-ordered it, but that's a whole 'nother story, as they say).
I started reading it on the train, and I finished it in the basement living room of my sister-in-law's house. It's an engrossing read; as I neared the end, I had to force myself to slow down, to not miss any of the fantastic* details hidden in very nearly every single sentence.
The novel's set in the same industrial-faerie universe as The Iron Dragon's Daughter, but it's by no means a sequel. The story starts off with Will le Fey watching war dragons arc across the sky over his small village, bound for conflict in some unimaginable war. One is shot down, and drags itself, flightless, to Will's village, where it declares itself ruler. It makes Will its lieutenant, in part because Will, unlike anyone else in town, is half-human.
Will partakes in the privileges and the awful responsibilities of his role, and in short order the entire village is set against him. When the dragon's grip on the village is finally broken, Will is sent into exile.
He makes his way across a Faërie beset by the ravages of war, and winds up in a refugee camp. From there he travels to Babel itself, the great tower that stands high as Heaven, and joins in a confidence game that trades on the identity of the absentee King of Babel to make a lot of money. But there's a twist; there's always a twist…
This book is dense with information, and every sentence serves to nudge the plot forward. There's a depth and a humanity to the characters, and we see people at their best and at their very worst, sometimes on the same page. Nothing is irrelevant; every detail has its place and its purpose. The world of Babel is rife with betrayals, disappointments, triumphs, and tragedies.
Michael Swanwick very much needs to be more well-known than he is. It's a shame that hardly anyone will have heard of this book, much less read it.
______
* In every sense of the word.
Unpleasant realization
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
From the front matter of Steven Brust's Firefly fan-fic(ish) novel (found via Scalzi's Whatever):
For people who care about such things, the book was written in emacs on a box running Mandrake Linux, then I used OpenOffice to format it for printing. The final layout for online publication was created with Microsoft Word and Adobe Acrobat. People who care about such things need to get a life.
I got to the last sentence and thought, Aw, that's me.
(Of course, when I read the first sentence, I thought, Good heavens, man, there's One True text editor, and that's vi. Go go gadget :%s/< [/]*font[^>]*>//gi .
It would seem that I'm a nerd.)