“What’s in the bag?”

“A Quantum Singularity.”

“Really? Where’s you get it?”

“Corner store. Got a great deal on it.”

“The store on the corner of North and Main?”

“Yup.”

“You get a certificate for it?”

“Nope. Like I said, it was a great deal.”

“So how do you know it’s the real deal?”

“Don’t. But figured it was worth a try.”

“Christ, you’re insane. That could kill you.”

“Aw, it’s not that bad. Those PSAs always exaggerate the danger of everything. Anyway, I’m gonnna open it here in a couple minutes. You wanna try some?”

“Hell no! I’m not a fool. Tell me you’re not going to try it here–you know there’s kids around the building.”

“It’ll be fine. He told me it was totally localized.”

“Shit. Gimme five minutes before you open that thing so I can get the hell away from here.”

“Whatever. See ya.”

“I doubt it.”

Barely made it down the block before I heard the soft pop and knew things had gone badly. Turned back around and saw a chunk of the building just missing. Thank god it looked like it was restricted to his apartment and hadn’t expanded further.

Turned around and kept on walking, the sirens wailing before I even turned the corner.

So those of you who don’t read this by RSS feed have seen how I’ve personalized Word Press, but believe it or not, there is more to this site than my blog.

Really!

I’ve maintained a personal website since 1998. Initially on Labyrinth, then on Earthlink, and then on various web hosting services. I started my weblog in February of 2002.

Why yes, I did all the coding my hand, thank you. All my web design was done in Arachnophilia, which was a code editor. So no permalinks or anything like that in the early years.

If you go back, what you’ll discover is that since I was writing for myself and sometimes erin (hi erin!), I wrote whatever came to mind. In essence it was to replace the paper journals that I was never capable of keeping up.

Obviously it worked in that I’ve been at this for over six years, but somewhere along the way I seem to have lost that sense of fearlessness about my writing I had then. For example, I can’t remember the last time I wrote about religion, and my posts about politics are few and far between.

Still, that’s a lot of words I’ve written.

I also have a section of writing in general, that contains links to short stories that came from my dreams (I have exceedingly weird dreams, and I sometimes used them as a writing exercise in coherency), and a couple of papers I wrote for school. Those were actually fun. There’s something about a good research paper…

Er… never mind.

OK. So, this somehow ended up being all about the blog anyway. Fine. Tomorrow then.

NOTE: I apologize. I know I’ve not covered everyone, but this is where things led me. I’ll try and rectify my exclusions later.

You were asking about the UCF? Here’s a scrapbook of headlines and articles that tell the story.

(more…)

Once again, the UCF is playing games.

Jeri came up with the idea of writing headlines for the members of the UCF.

Of course you don’t have to be a member of the UCF to do so, and are thus welcome to post your headlines about me here.

Because I’m a difficult person, I’ll be posting my stories/headlines here. Things are pretty busy, but I’ve been writing snippets all morning whenever a have a few moments of free time (and I do mean moments, it’s been pretty busy). I’ll post them when I get a batch done.

And here’s Jeri’s headline for me:

Earning a sizeable reward from the FBI for spotting and turning in a top-ten most wanted fugitive annoying users in her computer lab, Michelle recently took a leave of absence to prepare for and win the the Ghirardelli Chocolate Bake-off. She was awarded the Mythopoeic Fantasy award for her novel Toasters in the Night, and notably thanked her friends in the UCF for inspiration and non-linear ideas.

Oh, I forgot to mention that there’s another round robin (w)riting game going on.

Sign up and comments at Nathan’s place.

The story of Charlotte Misner. I wrote Chapter 4.

Everyone knows the story of Tom Thumb. Some even know that it was Tom Thumb’s father who first said, “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.”

What is less well know are Tom’s exploits as a young adult in the years before he met, courted, and then married Thumbelina. (What? You didn’t know that? That’ll teach you to believe everything you read in fairy tales.)

You’d think the incident with the fish would have taught him a lesson, yet Tom decided to take to sea, and signed on with a pirate ship. Tom and his pet Raven acted as watch, ranging out to find booty ships. (There wasn’t a British Navy at that point, so for true adventure everyone know you had to become a pirate). For a couple of years they traveled far and wide, and eventually ended up pillaging the coast of the Orient.

This turned out to be a mistake as the Chinese ships were apparently made of sterner stuff that the Occidental ships they have been pillaging. The Captain and the First Mate were beheaded, and much of the rest of the crew were sold into slavery. However the cook, the Second Mate (who was a wizard at languages and quickly learned enough of the local lingo to converse with their captives, [and told them many tales, some of which may even have been true]), and Tom caught the attention of the Chinese captain and they were placed directly into his service.

The cook, whose talents had been wasted on the pirate captain, soon became close friends with Chinese Captain’s cook; together they created a fusion cuisine whose like would become popular centuries later in the New World–a land yet unknown except to the natives, and some Norsemen who weren’t sharing their secrets with anyone.

Tom, however, fascinated not just the captain, but the entire ship. With some small assistance from the Second Mate, Tom (who could already speak Raven) soon learned how to converse with the locals himself.

Upon learning that Tom considered himself something of a brawler, the Captain proposed a match between Tom and one of the members of the local rat population. After Tom handily won the bout, the Captain had made for him a sword and warriors outfit, and allowed Tom–from a safe height–to train with his warriors.

Soon, news of Tom’s exploits moved up the coast, and the Captain took to the seas again, this time to display Tom to the local Magistrates and then Provincial Governors. Eventually, Tom’s fame spread even across the sea, and they received a request to visit the Emperor of Japan.

Tom’s performance so delighted the Emperor, he invited Tom to stay with him for several months, and eventually gave him the title for which he became famous throughout Japan: Tom Thumb, Bonsai Warrior.

Confused? See here.

Thanks to John the Scientist for the inspiration.

To answer the question that wasn’t quite asked…
(more…)

I’ve finally been able to get up early to spend time writing first thing in the morning. I think the new alarm clock helps–the gradual light wakes me up gently, which is really nice.

Yesterday I didn’t even try to work on my story. This morning I got a couple paragraphs written. Not fantastic, but it’s a start. I think the biggest problem is that I’ve reached the point where specific things need to happen, so I have to work those specific things in, instead of just letting the story unfold as I have been.

But mostly it’s good to be up early and writing, even if only a little.

Sophie from Shinola. An explanation of sorts.

Part 1 – Nathan
Part 2 – Shawn
Part 3 – MWT
Part 4 – Eric
Part 5 – Matt
Part 6 – Jeri
Part 7 – Saqib
Part 8 – Me
Part 9 – Vince
Part 10 – Kimberly Ann
Part 11 – Tom
Part 12 – Kate
Part 13 – Justin Ryan
Part 14 – Bryan
Part 15 – Tania
Part 16 – C
Part 17 – Nathan
Part 18 – Shawn
Part 19 – MWT
Part 20 – Eric
Part 21 – Matt
Part 22 – Jeri
Part 23 – Saqib
Part 24 – Me
Part 25 – Vince
Part 26 – Kimberly Ann
Part 27 – Tom
Part 28 – Kate
Part 29 – Bryan
Part 30 – C
Part 31 – Justin Ryan
Part 32 – Tania

And we’re all contributing a final chapter–or most of us are anyway. Nathan said something about voting on which ending you like best, but I think you should just read everyone else’s take on the end of the story.

(more…)

The following is an excerpt from the story I’m writing, as requested by Vince, who provided me the name of the news station.

I was just going to give the news excerpt, but decided to publish the entire chapter instead. Maybe this will get me motivated to finish things up. (I just checked, I’m at 52k words right now-103 pages in Word.)

Strangely, the news bit came to me almost fully formed, and was a lot of fun to write.
(more…)

The aftermath, when it came, was unprecedented.

After years of seeing tweens and young girls tarted up like cheap trollops, the hammer came down with force.

In his state of the state address, the president said that if children wanted to dress like grownups, they’d have to act like grownups; any child found to be wearing adult themed clothing or using adult appliances in public, including mp3 players and phones that did more than make calls and came in colors other than primary, was to immediately be given a job. DVD players were allows as long as they were playing G rated material.

Overnight, sales of Osh Kosh B’Gosh went through the roof, and supply was unable to keep up with demand. Sales of Barbie plummetted as sales of rag dolls and stuffed animals went through the roof.

The only drawback was that rather quickly older teens and college students picked up the new style, and within a year, babydoll outfits, previously limited to a subset of manga and anime fans, were everywhere, which cause teen and twenty-something males no end of panic, as they constinually feared they’d accidentally hit on a thirteen year old instead of an eighteen year old. But even that had it’s bright side, as the scared men and boys became unfailingly polite, since they often couldn’t tell if the females around them were actual children or potential dating material.

(See here for something akin to an explanation.)

I’ve got nothing but busy today. So please share your non-sequiturs.

Additionally, I desperately want to keep writing while I’m tying to get up early enough to work on my other story, so what I really want are phrases our pictures that will set off a story for me. Please?

OK, so I was thinking more along the lines of this or this.

Not-Sophie limped up her thin body up to the large jowly man dishing out mealy, watery gruel.

“Please sir, may I have some more?”

“MORE?” the man yelled at the top of his lungs. The supervisor leaned out his window to start at the man. “Why of course you may,” the man growled, sounding like he’d eat nails then give her more food. “Only the best for our specials.” The word twisted in his mouth to something ugly as he spoke it, making not-Sophie think of maggots and slugs and poisonous snakes.

The big man leaned forward, being careful not to touch not-Sophie and whispered to her, “do you know what is going to happen to you? Do you?”

Not-Sophie started up at him and slowly shook her head.

“All you specials have a future ahead of you. You get extra resources now, but I can’t wait until the suffering begins, when they slowly tear your consciousness away from your body. I’ve heard it’s an extremely painful process. Sometimes if I listen carefully I can hear your screams during the night.” He leaned even more closely to her. “Your time is soon,” he hissed.

Not-Sophie gave a small scream and jumped back. The pot of boiling gruel suddenly leapt up and upended itself over the fat man’s head. As he screamed in pain, not-Sophie ran from the cafeteria back to the dormitory, and crawled under the covers, sobbing quietly to herself.

She never saw the fat man again. But everything he told her was true. Sometimes she cursed him for that, other times she blessed him. Either way, he was long gone, and she was changed far more than even he could imagine.

What is this? It’s Sophie from Shinola.

When we last saw our heroes:

(Blink/Sophie) moved blindly from one corridor to another until something in Sophie’s mind clicked. “Wait, turn back,” she said. “Go down that last corridor we just past. Something tells me that the weapons systems control will be that way.”

Green fire and black smoke billowed from the heap of rubble that had been Sophie’s home. Mission accomplished, not-Sophie painfully limped the air, pushing its faltering propulsion system just ahead of the shock wave.

It messaged the local agent. “This is Dreadnought UCF-17 ‘Sophie’ calling Mowat Goldmember. This is a code 99 request for immediate support.”
…
Meanwhile, not-Sophie1 targeted the nearest wormhole, threaded the gap, then accerated toward the familiar scan signatures of the Tragethan fleet.

Blink/Sophie’s body had been badly beaten. The failed attempt at disabling the weapons systems control had alerted the Trageth. Their security forces immediately took action and quickly apprehended the intruders. The Trageth were not known for their kindness and used harsh methods when interrogating prisoners. Sophie’s conscious had to recede and allow Blink’s to take over during the ordeal. His firm resolve enabled him to withstand the brutal beating yet not reveal any critical details of his mission.
…
A gigantic dreadnought clambered into the room. “Agent 2375 I am SpaceForce dreadnought UCF-17 I have been dispatched for your immediate retrieval.” The mega machine’s sensor’s surveyed its surrounding “Come with me if you want to live.”

And now, to continue our story…
(more…)

Not-Sophie rematerialized and then pulled her six-shooter out of the ether. She stared at Nathan while tapping the long nails of her other hand against her metallic hip.

Click click click click. Click click click click.

“Really Nathan,” she said firmly, “I thought we had moved past all this.”

Nathan stared defiantly at not-Sophie. “Past what?” he said. “You’re not real! You can’t do any actual damage to me! Besides, it’s only a game!”

Not-Sophie continued tapping her nails.

Click click click click. Click click click click.

“It may be a game to you sir, but I’m the one who has to spend all the energy rematerializing every time you blow me up for your amusement.” She looked at Nathan like he was something unpleasant she’d discovered on the bottom of her shoe in a dark, dank, dirty alley. “Sure, I can continue to rebuild myself infinitely, but it gets old rather quickly.”

Click click click click. Click click click click.

“Come on,” said Nathan. “No harm done. It’s not like it’s costing you anything.”

“Not costing my anything?” not-Sophie replied, one fine eyebrow rising slightly. “Look how many parts of the story I have NOT been in! How am I supposed to save the children of that nasty little planet you created if you keep killing me and keeping me from my job?

Click click click click. Click click click click.

Not-Sophie shifted her weight, and slammed the six-shooter into the holster that suddenly appeared on her hip. Her eyes shifted from cold steely-blue to fiery steely-green. “I’m serious. Stop trying to kill me. I’ve got work to do, and your little machinations are becoming an annoyance.

And with that not-Sophie disappeared, leaving behind only the sound of her nails tapping against her hip.

Click click click click. Click click click click.

We’ve ordered a bunch of new toys recently, for a variety reasons.

First up, we got pedometers. I chose the Omron HJ-112 Digital Premium Pedometer, because not only do they count steps, but they also calculate the number of miles you walked and the number of calories you burn. It also can calculate aerobic steps versus regular steps. Right now I have 10962 steps, which it calculates as 5.19 miles, but this is actually low, since my stride when I walk for exercise is slower than my casual stride. But since I know I walk approximately a 15 minute mile, I can just calculate that separately. It also tells me I’ve burned 361 kcals, but that just seems depressing.

AMENDUM the First:
One problem with it. To keep it from counting moving around, it doesn’t start counting until you’ve been walking for four seconds. This means that few of the steps I took today while teaching counted, since most of them were walking back and forth between the computer and the screen. So on my feet for two hours, but only a couple hundred steps.

But I can live with that.

I also ordered two Energy Saving Smart Strips With Autoswitching Technology. What the heck does that mean? It means that we can plug the computer into the control plug, the plug all the peripherals into other plugs, and when we turn off the computer, the other plugs for the monitor, scanner, etc have their power cut, so they don’t use energy. We’re thinking about getting one for the TV, but are not sure if that’ll cause problems for my grandmother. (i.e. will remotes etc work?)

And although it hasn’t arrived yet, I have great hopes for the Bio-Brite SunRise Digital Alarm Clock Dawn / Dusk Simulator Clock with White Noise. I believe I complained to great extent last much about how much I hate daylight savings time. The biggest problem for me is that I have great difficulty getting up when it’s dark. It just seems terribly wrong somehow. (I also don’t sleep well when it’s light, which is why the bedroom window facing the road has a blackout shade.) My hope is that this will allow me to get up earlier in the morning. Not just because relaxing mornings are nice, but because the morning is the best time for me to write, so I have written nothing on my novel/story/whatever since Christmas. We’ll see what happens, but keep your fingers crossed for me.

So, if you’ve been following the Sophie story, some of us got a little nuts and started an offshoot story over here.

Why? Possibly because we’re completely nuts. But mostly because it’s a lot of fun. Feel free to join in–just write fast!

To heck with you all not-Sophie haters! I’m starting a not-Sophie fan club!

Anyone want to join?

Not-Sophie has many wonderful qualities that everyone seems to be ignoring. She’s brave. She hates injustice. She looks out for those who are weaker than she is.

She’s also complex.

And lots of fun at parties, what with the whole telekinesis thing.

ADDENDUM the First:

Sits in the corner scribbling not-Sophie/Blink fan fic.

Not-Sophie stood over Farthum’s quivering corpse, viscous yellow plasma dripping off the edge of her sword.

“Oh Not-Sophie!” cried Blink, “You SAVED me!” His pseudo-pods quivered as she looked deep into his eye.

As you were previously warned…

Part 1 – Nathan
Part 2 – Shawn
Part 3 – MWT
Part 4 – Eric
Part 5 – Matt
Part 6 – Jeri
Part 7 – Saqib
Part 8 – Me
Part 9 – Vince
Part 10 – Kimberly Ann
Part 11 – Tom
Part 12 – Kate
Part 13 – Justin Ryan
Part 14 – Bryan
Part 15 – Tania
Part 16 – C
Part 17 – Nathan
Part 18 – Shawn
Part 19 – MWT
Part 20 – Eric
Part 21 – Matt
Part 22 – Jeri
Part 23 – Saqib
Part 24 – Me
Part 25 – Vince
Part 26 – Kimberly Ann
Part 27 – Tom
Part 28 – Kate
Part 29 – Bryan
Part 30 – C
Part 31 – Justin Ryan
Part 32 – Tania

(more…)

So…. I’ve signed up for a writing game with the Whateverettes et al. And YOU are invited to participate.

Rules and list of participants are here.

If you’d like the play along, make a comment on Nathan’s blog before noon (EST) on Sunday.

It’s most likely going to be silly, so don’t be afraid to jump in even if you’re unsure of your writing skills. Hell, you’ve seen my writing and I’m playing, so jump in.

Whenever it gets to me, I’ll have a link to the previous portion of the story, and to portion that comes after me.

Although rumor has it there may be portions involving the digestive tracks of dinosaurs, we’ll just have to see.

Is this:

Daisy (not her real name) plopped down and stretched out.

“Really,” she said, “it’s just a job. I got tired of givin’ it away for free, y’know? They’re always buzzing in and out, and it’s always take, take take. Well I’ve had it with all that bullshit. I decided that this time I’d get something back. I’ve already got a bit stashed away as you can see, so I figure I’m gonna spend the entire summer relaxing. Eat, drink and be merry and all that.”

“No, I’m not worried about anything. My mum’s long gone–don’t even know where she is anymore, so who cares? Yeah, I’ll probably end up with kids, but isn’t that what all the girls want? Really? They may protest, but you see ‘em standing there, so proud, with their offspring crowded around them, but you know they’re going to come to no better end than than their mother–and will she be looking on as proudly then?”

“Hey, it’s a short brutal life–we’re living on the edge and have to take what we can get. I have no apologies for my life. You don’t like it, then just turn your eyes when you walk on by.”

Based upon this from S. (Go ahead, it’s safe. I promise.)

the reunion band that Hendrix plays in headlines in venues neither you nor I nor anyone else on earth can reach

That comment on Nathan’s site dropped an idea in my head. Since I have nothing else for you today, here’s the result:

Vince pulled aside the curtains and stepped into the darkened room, dragging a large wheeled suitcase behind him. “Come on,” he said and waved to the person behind him.

Jeri peered uncertainly into the room. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

A soft voice sounded from the inky shadows of the room. “Of course it’s not a good idea dearie. It’s never a good idea to disturb the spirits on the other side.” A short thin woman dressed in elastic waist jeans and some sort of draped Hawiian print shirt stepped forward. Her hair was curly and gray and went halfway down her back. “But you’re going to do it anyway, because he’s piqued your interest, hasn’t he?”

“Well,” said Jeri uncertainly, “I guess he has.”

While Jeri and the woman were talking, Vince had started pulling equipment out of the suitcase and setting it up on the table. He’d obviously done this before, as it took very little time to get everything assembled.

Jeri looked uncertainly at the table. In the dim light the assembly looked like little more than black boxes and tiny satellite dishes, all strung together with network cables.

“Almost all set up,” said Vince. He turned to look at the tiny woman. “You ready for us?”

“Of course I am,” she replied. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

The small woman sat down at the table, with her back towards the wall, facing the door that Jeri and Vince had entered. Vince sat on her left, Jeri on her right. Vince handed Jeri and the woman earphones.

“Bose?” asked Jeri. “They’re awfully pricey aren’t they?”

“Trust me, you want quality for this,” replied Vince, as Jeri settled the earphones on her head. With that she heard nothing else. “Wow, he even got the noise canceling ones,” she thought.

With that, the woman placed her hands face down on the largest black box and closed her eyes. Her face relaxed almost immediately.

Suddenly, a sound like nothing she had ever heard started to come softly through the earphones. It quickly grew louder, and within a minute tears were streaming down Jeri’s face as she listened to a music like none she had ever heard before.

After what seemed like mere moments, but Jeri later discovered had been three hours, the music ended. She opened her eyes, and saw Vince and the woman taking of their headphones.

When she could finally speak, she asked, “What was that?”

“That,” said the woman, “was Mozart and Jimi Hendrix playing the latest piece composed by Wagner.”

“It was incredible,” said Vince. “Even better than Steve Ray’s playing of Beethoven last week.”

“Stevie Ray Vaughan and Beethoven?” asked Jeri. “Who else have you heard?”

“Why just about everyone,” replied the woman. “The bopper, Vivaldi–why last month we even heard some of Shakespeare’s new sonnets set to music by Aaron Copland and performed by Ethyl Merman.”

“No Elvis?” Jeri asked.

The woman looked disdainfully at her. “Of course not!” she replied. “He plays evenings at the local bar down the street. I don’t expect he’ll be joining for another ten years or so.”

Of course I’m an exclamation point. Was there ever any doubt?

(more…)

Is there a word for something like writer’s block when you know what you need to write but don’t want to?

Got up this morning to write (last week I’d strained a muscle in my back, and so skipped sitting in the cold basement, and yesterday I slept through the alarm) knowing what I had to write, but was simply unable to do so, because as an outside observer, I don’t want the scene that follows to happen, even though it pretty much has to. It takes the story in what I (finally) realized is the correct direction–but I don’t want to do what needs to be done!

Of course I could be blocked simply because 30 minutes in the morning isn’t enough time to write a difficult scene.

While I was exercising today, I mentally created a story to explain the sofa guy of the previous entry.

Unfortunately, I waited too long to write it down.

But here’s the idea:

He came back to town early only to discover that his apartment was cordoned off with police tape. One of his neighbors had been found dead in her apartment–discovered only after her body began to smell. Unfortunately for him, his cheap bastard of a landlord put him up in the skankiest fleabag motel in town, where gravel trucks roared past his window all day and all night.

And then Michael showed up and so the story abruptly stopped there. Which is too bad, because I was hoping to learn how the neighbor had died, and if the apartment would be condemed.

It was a lot better in my brain when he was rubbing the week old stubble on his chin and regretting returning to town a week early.