The day after
my cat died
Mummy told me
"The rain
Is God
Crying with you."
I asked what God
Up in Heaven
Could ever have
To cry about.
That night, my bum sore
from the spanking, I wondered
If God hated people
Living in deserts
Because
It never rained in them.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Friday, April 08, 2011
facebook status updates: part IV
I want to post about a fake trip and, when the burglars arrive, give them a happy grin. "I was just looking for friends! Didn't you see that I'm looking for friendship in my status?"
You are now infected with sentient lice. They will eventually try to establish communication... unless, of course, you've been trying to exterminate them. In that case, they'll be very unhappy with you.
"I don’t get this whole destiny thing. Aren’t you already doing whatever it is you’re going to do?”
“There are many forms of currency in this world,” Ril said softly. “You and I both know that the only one that matters is secrets. ”
Mind you, most things mentioining Anne Coulter sear themselves into the brain much like cthulhu would. - Moi.
Silence, Del had found, was the most cunning of traps. People felt compelled to fill it.
From a current WIP: And sometimes, if you say you'll pay anything, the price is everything.
You begin to urinate shredded White House documents for the next 10 hours, and the page they form tells you who will really kill you tomorrow.
How to tell your kids there is no Santa: "We're not getting you any gifts this year because Santa will bring them."
And come christmas morning: "Well, it seems the recession hit St. Nick hard, too. But we still got you each a satsuma!"
Signs you are writing a very screwed-up story: It includes references to zombie fetish films. In this case, one made for zombies by zombies and involving humans eating zombies.
For the past week, you have been getting text messages on your phone, dated noon tomorrow.
"Sorry," from a blocked ID, and nothing else.
The messages are coming less frequently now.
this is a fun story line out of context: "Ant farms aren't vampires, least not any one I've ever seen."
What ISN'T the world's second-oldest profession?
Telemarketer for scotiabank: "Hello, I am looking for Josh MacLeod."
Me: "No, you're not. Because he's getting sick of these calls and will switch banks if they continue."
*click*
Weirdest line written thus far this week in WIP:
"What is decency, if not stigmata?"
This is the postscript of a letter I sent to my grandmother 5 years ago.
PS - I just discovered that spiritual councillors who speak to the dying are paid by the hour. It created an interesting mental image of “die slower, I need to pay my rent!”
The grass won't be greener on the other side after you apply the lighter fluid.
Vampires who sparkle in sunlight should convert to Islam so they can hide behind the burka. Discuss.
"You killed God," the Devil said, and She looked disappointed. "I had a round of golf booked with Him this weekend; now what am I going to do?"
"Would someone care to explain," the Detective said slowly, "why anyone thought the king's horses could put an *egg* back together again? Look at what their hooves have done to the shell!"
This was turning out to be a bad day for the Detective. No less than four calls in the last hour from people claiming they had lost an hour of the day, and demanding someone catch the thief who stole it.
Only two of them had been joking.
"No," the Detective said, his voice cold and quiet and breaking through the shouting of victims and suspects and the killer.
"What?" The killer said. "No? No to what?"
"I am not telling the mayor the butler did it." The Detective raised his gun. "We need a better killer than that."
"Commissioner, you asked me to solve the case of reality." The Detective paused. "The solution is 42."
"That is amusing," the Commissioner said, his voice devoid of a smile. "You're fired."
"But .... I wasn't joking. It really is 42. Why won't anyone listen to me?"
"Of course I arrested the suspect," the Detective said to Internal Affairs.
"For someone to be a suspect, you have to charge them with with a crime. Not march into their office and arrest them!"
"I knew he was guilty of something; he's a senator."
There is one conspiracy so great is can bring down the moon, so brilliant it burns even the worthy as it makes them pure, and so terrible that darkness quells from it and sorrow seems, at times, its mate. This conspiracy is called love.
Things that would be fun: answering the phone as though you were a help desk.
"Yes, your honour, I was drunk when I was pulled over," The Detective said. "Drunk on clues."
"Oh yeah?" she said. "So I'm like that, am I? Well, how many horsemen of the apocalypse have *you* slept with, mister?"
The Detective laughed unkindly. "I hate to disappoint you, but this is not a locked room mystery: I placed a cat in the room four hours before the disappearance of Ms. Dunway in this same room so it is now a schrodinger's cat room, and neither locked nor unlocked."
The Detective has been fired for many reasons, over the course of his career. Concerned pet owners over his use of Schrodinger's Cat was, however, a new one.
You are now infected with sentient lice. They will eventually try to establish communication... unless, of course, you've been trying to exterminate them. In that case, they'll be very unhappy with you.
"I don’t get this whole destiny thing. Aren’t you already doing whatever it is you’re going to do?”
“There are many forms of currency in this world,” Ril said softly. “You and I both know that the only one that matters is secrets. ”
Mind you, most things mentioining Anne Coulter sear themselves into the brain much like cthulhu would. - Moi.
Silence, Del had found, was the most cunning of traps. People felt compelled to fill it.
From a current WIP: And sometimes, if you say you'll pay anything, the price is everything.
You begin to urinate shredded White House documents for the next 10 hours, and the page they form tells you who will really kill you tomorrow.
How to tell your kids there is no Santa: "We're not getting you any gifts this year because Santa will bring them."
And come christmas morning: "Well, it seems the recession hit St. Nick hard, too. But we still got you each a satsuma!"
Signs you are writing a very screwed-up story: It includes references to zombie fetish films. In this case, one made for zombies by zombies and involving humans eating zombies.
For the past week, you have been getting text messages on your phone, dated noon tomorrow.
"Sorry," from a blocked ID, and nothing else.
The messages are coming less frequently now.
this is a fun story line out of context: "Ant farms aren't vampires, least not any one I've ever seen."
What ISN'T the world's second-oldest profession?
Telemarketer for scotiabank: "Hello, I am looking for Josh MacLeod."
Me: "No, you're not. Because he's getting sick of these calls and will switch banks if they continue."
*click*
Weirdest line written thus far this week in WIP:
"What is decency, if not stigmata?"
This is the postscript of a letter I sent to my grandmother 5 years ago.
PS - I just discovered that spiritual councillors who speak to the dying are paid by the hour. It created an interesting mental image of “die slower, I need to pay my rent!”
The grass won't be greener on the other side after you apply the lighter fluid.
Vampires who sparkle in sunlight should convert to Islam so they can hide behind the burka. Discuss.
"You killed God," the Devil said, and She looked disappointed. "I had a round of golf booked with Him this weekend; now what am I going to do?"
"Would someone care to explain," the Detective said slowly, "why anyone thought the king's horses could put an *egg* back together again? Look at what their hooves have done to the shell!"
This was turning out to be a bad day for the Detective. No less than four calls in the last hour from people claiming they had lost an hour of the day, and demanding someone catch the thief who stole it.
Only two of them had been joking.
"No," the Detective said, his voice cold and quiet and breaking through the shouting of victims and suspects and the killer.
"What?" The killer said. "No? No to what?"
"I am not telling the mayor the butler did it." The Detective raised his gun. "We need a better killer than that."
"Commissioner, you asked me to solve the case of reality." The Detective paused. "The solution is 42."
"That is amusing," the Commissioner said, his voice devoid of a smile. "You're fired."
"But .... I wasn't joking. It really is 42. Why won't anyone listen to me?"
"Of course I arrested the suspect," the Detective said to Internal Affairs.
"For someone to be a suspect, you have to charge them with with a crime. Not march into their office and arrest them!"
"I knew he was guilty of something; he's a senator."
There is one conspiracy so great is can bring down the moon, so brilliant it burns even the worthy as it makes them pure, and so terrible that darkness quells from it and sorrow seems, at times, its mate. This conspiracy is called love.
Things that would be fun: answering the phone as though you were a help desk.
"Yes, your honour, I was drunk when I was pulled over," The Detective said. "Drunk on clues."
"Oh yeah?" she said. "So I'm like that, am I? Well, how many horsemen of the apocalypse have *you* slept with, mister?"
The Detective laughed unkindly. "I hate to disappoint you, but this is not a locked room mystery: I placed a cat in the room four hours before the disappearance of Ms. Dunway in this same room so it is now a schrodinger's cat room, and neither locked nor unlocked."
The Detective has been fired for many reasons, over the course of his career. Concerned pet owners over his use of Schrodinger's Cat was, however, a new one.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Freewrite on the subject of losing things
He couldn’t love her. No one had to tell him that, in the White City. But that was the deal, the oldest bargain in all the worlds that were: you bring them back, you leave a soul behind. And you could take nothing there save what was within you.
Most people don’t have extra souls. He didn’t. And she came back, from the White City to the world, from death into life, as if it was a matter of bureaucracy as much as will, destiny as much as chance. He smiled — he could fake that, at least — and she laughed, and kissed him, and talked.
When she left, two months later, only she was surprised. He wasn’t surprised by anything anymore. he let her go, despite her pleading for him to change, trying to move him with words, and love, and human things. He just waited, watched her go, and made himself a sandwich.
They never talked about his lost soul, not then or ever.
Most people don’t have extra souls. He didn’t. And she came back, from the White City to the world, from death into life, as if it was a matter of bureaucracy as much as will, destiny as much as chance. He smiled — he could fake that, at least — and she laughed, and kissed him, and talked.
When she left, two months later, only she was surprised. He wasn’t surprised by anything anymore. he let her go, despite her pleading for him to change, trying to move him with words, and love, and human things. He just waited, watched her go, and made himself a sandwich.
They never talked about his lost soul, not then or ever.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Insanity, thy name is WIP....
There is a terrible book in my WIP called "Deep Ones and R'lyeh", which is a cthulhu-inspired version of Green Eggs and Ham. Characters quote from it.
I think this means I need help.
(But, on the plus side, I did resist the urge to write up said book idea entirely. Which is probably for the best.)
I think this means I need help.
(But, on the plus side, I did resist the urge to write up said book idea entirely. Which is probably for the best.)
"Huh." Clay flipped the page. "I do not like deep waters and Dagon?"
"It is not a mistype," Uniq said. "Would you like them there or there," is not one either, since that is a picture of Carcosa. I believe the good doctor used Disneyland as a reference point for drawing it."
Sunday, February 13, 2011
sort of an update
<Chaos`^> sup?
<alcar> I is writing. Just began chapter 7, Parents Don't Exorcise Jell-O.
<Chaos`^> what?
<Chaos`^> you write the weirdest damn stories...
<Chaos`^> can't you write something while NOT on acid?
<alcar> I is writing. Just began chapter 7, Parents Don't Exorcise Jell-O.
<Chaos`^> what?
<Chaos`^> you write the weirdest damn stories...
<Chaos`^> can't you write something while NOT on acid?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Progression of works
I'm currently poking away at another version of Boy and Fox, and also working on an urban fantasy/horror novel on the side (tentatively titled 'Zeth Story' at present). The latter is being done as first person present tense, and the former in third personal omniscient unreliable narrator.
This makes about as much sense to me as it probably does to you.
This makes about as much sense to me as it probably does to you.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Website Idea
Via some spam on a forum I am on...
"Interested in getting something for nothing?* This is the American Dream!(tm)
- Get paid to do nothing (Subsections: Alimony as a Lifestyle Choice and Lawsuits are Your Friend.)
- Upfront payment is not required. Really. We just want your soul, assuming you have one left and haven't already bartered it away for a free toaster since you're stupid enough to have clicked this link, you thick moron.
- Featured in [REDACTED FOR LEGAL REASONS]
- Receive money by cheque or Paypal or smiling orphan imported from overseas**
- Little effort is required. So little, it's like scamming the system. (And, to make the website Political, include rant on welfare cheats here.)
* No, not chlamydia.
** Payment will occur after the Rapture. We are pretty certain you will not be among those raptured. We are positive we won't be.
Interested to earn extra passive income?It would be funny to set up a website like that, with fun disclaimers about the cost being pride, your eternal soul and whatever self-respect you have left in your life and then offering alternatives such as selling meth, being a prostitute and the like as less morally questionable.
- Get paid to read email
- Upfront payment is not required
- Featured in The Sunday Times (Singapore Newspaper)
- Receive money by cheque or Paypal
- Little effort is required
"Interested in getting something for nothing?* This is the American Dream!(tm)
- Get paid to do nothing (Subsections: Alimony as a Lifestyle Choice and Lawsuits are Your Friend.)
- Upfront payment is not required. Really. We just want your soul, assuming you have one left and haven't already bartered it away for a free toaster since you're stupid enough to have clicked this link, you thick moron.
- Featured in [REDACTED FOR LEGAL REASONS]
- Receive money by cheque or Paypal or smiling orphan imported from overseas**
- Little effort is required. So little, it's like scamming the system. (And, to make the website Political, include rant on welfare cheats here.)
* No, not chlamydia.
** Payment will occur after the Rapture. We are pretty certain you will not be among those raptured. We are positive we won't be.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Via a writing prompt
In the dark room, wreathed in cigarette smoke, the smell of whiskey and sour dreams, the man looked up from the lines of cocaine on the desk. There was another figure in the room. Some whispered it had antlers, others horns. Still others said it was just an idea given form. The man at the desk saw his father’s casually cruel smile, and eyes as cold as a banker’s soul.
“It is time, then?” he said, distantly pleased his voice didn’t shake; he had little to be proud of any longer, save for small glamours of pride.
The figure inclined its head and handed a piece of parchment — no, paper, a mere trick of light, the same that made a hand seem a claw had befuddled him and the man took it.
“Why this one? Why in person?” he said, unable not to speak. He felt as if others were speaking at the edge of hearing, that he was part of some ancient tradition stretching back across time and space.
The figure said nothing, the silence deafening.
The man quailed back in the seat and took the paper, signing his signature in an untidy scrawl.
And Barney was renewed for another season.
“It is time, then?” he said, distantly pleased his voice didn’t shake; he had little to be proud of any longer, save for small glamours of pride.
The figure inclined its head and handed a piece of parchment — no, paper, a mere trick of light, the same that made a hand seem a claw had befuddled him and the man took it.
“Why this one? Why in person?” he said, unable not to speak. He felt as if others were speaking at the edge of hearing, that he was part of some ancient tradition stretching back across time and space.
The figure said nothing, the silence deafening.
The man quailed back in the seat and took the paper, signing his signature in an untidy scrawl.
And Barney was renewed for another season.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
On Family Structure
Upon preparing the second draft of volume 1 (Contact), I realized that I'd made a few screw ups.
A) All the MCs (Emma, James and Leo) are only children and
B) Theyan ll come from two-parent families.
The former was authorial laziness, the second just odd. So I began to alter things:
Leo now has an older brother studying 'university' who will show up later in the novel. Parents remain together.
Emma remains an only child, though her dad died when she was an infant, mom has run the store etc. mostly on her own in the past few years. (I was able to figure her mom out perfectly, and never did get a handle on her father, so figured it was best to jettison him.)
James ends up with a younger sister (Caroline), his parents being divorced [in lieu of his mother having died a few years ago] and a younger half-brother, the latter of whom will show up. His mom's parents won't show up now, however. At least, I don't think so though I will at least have them mentioned.
A) All the MCs (Emma, James and Leo) are only children and
B) Theyan ll come from two-parent families.
The former was authorial laziness, the second just odd. So I began to alter things:
Leo now has an older brother studying 'university' who will show up later in the novel. Parents remain together.
Emma remains an only child, though her dad died when she was an infant, mom has run the store etc. mostly on her own in the past few years. (I was able to figure her mom out perfectly, and never did get a handle on her father, so figured it was best to jettison him.)
James ends up with a younger sister (Caroline), his parents being divorced [in lieu of his mother having died a few years ago] and a younger half-brother, the latter of whom will show up. His mom's parents won't show up now, however. At least, I don't think so though I will at least have them mentioned.
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