Seemed Like A Good Idea

Jam Fly Posting Up Side Ya Head

2005-02-08T17:36:00.000Z

Haven't written in a donkey's age - been ill and shit and stuff and I don't have to explain my self to you imaginary lot of internerds and world-wide-wankers. Sat there in front of your gamite stained keyboards and kleenex encrusted mice with eyes un adjusted to sun light and noses accustomed to the scent of your own rotting fleesh and crumbling aspirations. You're not only not going to be a rock star, you'll probably never even have the opportunity to go to space and most likely you'll not get to drive a train.

But, fuck you lot. Here's a fragment of uncorrected gubbins I've been working on (only a lil I'm no foole) possibly called Soup of the day:

"A sludge got bright. A soup got clever. It split and recombined and
with a spark or a flash learnt how to copy it self and did so. A lot.
Flaws flew into the copies - some of them just weren't soupy
enough. Their inadequacies meant they became food for the other bits
of the soup and it was good. Some times the flaws made better soup and
added croutons here a sprig of herbs there. And that as very good. The
soup improved itself over time through little more than bloody minded
banging of its head against a wall..."
"Careful now"
"Wha'?" Cigarette ash curled like the world's longest fingernail
before shattering and blizzarding down to his gown.
"Anthropomorphising soup again." the younger man grinned happily to himself.
"So would you if you were talking about your ancestors. Of course
you sprang fully formed from a narrative sense of self satisfaction.
Appearing with a noise usually reserved for shop keepers."
"Sorry...my parents weren't shop keepers. They worked in a takeaway."
"Quite my point my dear, anyway, where was I?"
"The soup was banging his head against a wall and bleeding"
"Now I conceded the head banging - but I never once mentioned a
single gender. Sometimes I wonder about your patriarchal leanings.
It's a dead end you know; misogyny doesn't get you the girls any more
- not if you wear glasses." the older man placed the cigarette in the
ashtray gingerly and took a long, slow, shallow drink. "Anyhow, the
croutons became more complex, the variety of soups separated far
beyond 57 varieties and within two great groups. One group to keep the
vegetarians happy and another for the normal people.

--there you go you shits.

Post-it per monitor (PIPM) status

2004-12-01T02:34:00.000Z

Today I reached an all time high on the post it note on the monitor level - a dizzying height of 4. Unfortunately the PIPM level is set back due a new monitor joining my trusty old evil IBM leading to a 2.0 on the PIPM - a shocking reduction from 3.0.

I shall keep you the world apprised as to any change.

perhaps with graphs

maybe I'll just draw graphs on post-its and stick them to my monitor...

Still it's all good

Oh dear, I seemed to have gone cross eyed

2004-11-22T13:07:00.000Z

Ahhh the standard salute of the blog writer, 'I haven't written in a while'.

But I haven'tt and I have very little reasoning behind it - the heating has been knackered in the house for a week now and the only pool of heat is in the lounge round a jurrassic gas heater, fossil fuel indeed. I used to think I'd happily accept a shift in my living standards to help the whole environment thing now I know the truth. Bollocks to gia, the earth and the bluey green ness of it give me the plundering of whatever lies benith this tedious globe so long as my toes change back from the blue.

Right, on to busines. The writing. How's it going? OK, not great. But ideas are flowing and I'm note taking I almost have my plot worked out but it has a lot of time travel and paradoxs (if paradoxs isn't the plural I don't want to know damn ancients and their ugly faced pluralising heads) but these have been tested with the immortal pub arguement method:

San Miguel + Time Travel Plot = FACT - cheesey paradox

Right, well that's pretty uninspiring...

Paradox insurance

2004-11-13T13:04:00.001Z

Weeeeeeellllllllll the novel in a month thing didn't exactly work. The nuclear option was decided upon before negotiations and multilateral agreements had been played through to their complete end.

But the good news is I'm writing again - the block seems to be lifting and this blogging lark seemed to have helped it. The ideas are flowing and the words seem to be following up to a point I'm wary of blowing out but there is some thing interesting going on and my head is abuzz with it.

So, of course, I'm going to the pub to celebrate with erm, booze.

"Rage - goddess, sing the rageof Pelus' son Achilles

2004-11-06T16:13:00.000Z

murderous, doomed, that cost the Acaeans countless losses,
hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,
great fighters' souls, but made their bodies carrion,
feasts for the dogs and birds,
and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end.
Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed.
Agamemnon, lord of men and brilliant Achilles."

Yeah! Rage on you musing tart - Rage into my man-face

Bugger!

2004-11-06T13:40:00.000Z

Not only was the all the procrastination etc. I just realised I haven't yet installed office on this machine so it's wordpad for me until oo downloads - it's open source tastic

and the american elections eh? Crazy
The second worst thing, the first begin the result, was that after the relative excitement of the last ones it was just boring. Still, pit was a bit more exciting than the referendum on the North Eastern UK election - what a rock n roll lifestyle I have.

Edit:

But I now have a writing chair, it's all coming together

Crapmonkeys!

2004-11-06T13:18:00.000Z

Normal levels of procrastination have combined with sod's law to mean that about 6 days in I still haven't got beyond word 7 and the goal of 50,000 looks unattainable. Maybe my macho lack of planning was a bad idea, maybe my leaving my computer until it blew up was a bad idea...

...Maybe the whole thing was simply a bad idea.

Do I want to even continue with this? (or indeed start) I don't know, I've already broken some of the block as this blog hopefully shows I agonise less about the writing (at least this writing) and while I care about quality, something that I hope is born out here, I don't agonise over each paragraph so long that I can no longer produce anything.

I don't know if it's for the 50,000 prize but I do know I should be writing now...prehaps a cup of coffee first, but after that I'll crack on with it.

Must resist tetris.

$title

2004-10-31T05:13:00.000Z

A cock up with the heat lead to it burning long into the night wasting increasing precious petro chemical resources and, more importantly, waking a confused me up in the middle of the night. To add to this overly warm narrator was further confused by the transfer from British summer time to Greenwich mean time (non of this universal time nonsense for me, thank you very much).

Normally the shift in time engendered a wooly minded and wholy misplaced nostalgia for days when Britain ruled the waves and set the clocks for the rest of the time. I realise that on the whole the empire was a Bad Thing what with the subjugation of large swathes of the world's population by a group of people whose dreary weather engendered such a furious inferiority complex that they had to go half round the world, slaughter vast amounts of people just so they could feel better about themselves, discover excitingly bland root vegetables and carcinogens. However, the idea of swanning about in a pith helmet and sweating comically rather appeals - especially if it's compared to desperately claiming to be best mates with our successors who have replaced our natty helmet choices with ridiculous clown costumes and crap meat sandwiches.

What the hell in the name of shitting crikey am I even considering this for?

2004-10-30T10:22:00.000+01:00

Another day, another post.

How quickly one becomes used to pouring one's thought-vomit onto the internet.

Went to the pub yesterday and told my mates what I planned to do with the novel/month antics. The White Knight was enthusiastic but had me repeating "50,000 fucking words and I have written 30 in the past year" over and over again into my lovely Spanish beer; Camp Town Racer however was a lot more critical along the lines of when am I going to get a proper job blah blah - I ignored his practical protestant work ethic and died inside a little.

still, fifty thousand fucking words!

piece of piss

5... 4... 3... 2... Blog

2004-10-29T18:40:00.000+01:00

Hello, good evening and welcome to nothing much.

...or good morning as you'd probably prefer you picky webnerds and intergeeks with your fine time pieces and fancy calendars.

Any way on to the point for this blog - such as any such thing is required or even desirable - I have writer's block. A hideous and evil block which extends down to the level of fretting over and failing to write any thing. Emails, text messages and essays have all been troubled by this block to varying degrees - from delays to panic attacks. I've decided to try and smash this into tiny pieces by doing two things: 1) Writing a 50,000 word novel in one month, November 2004 (yes, it will be shit) and 2) keeping a blog of the whole thing be it glorious success or soul sucking disaster to look back at an wallow in.

And if you think this is all very me, me, me - it is, if you don't like it then this isn't the vanity project you are looking for, move along.