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but all of that happened in mineral unconsciousness, and unobserved,
meta-reading
5 December 2020 14:36Thinking about the thinking about re-reading the Mars Trilogy, I think I'll be watching this as I re-read -- how do you manage this, how do you write a story this sprawling, how do you keep it all inside your head while writing it, all the characters and continuity, The First Hundred on Mars,
Having run through NaNoWriMo last month I'm feeling about reading now the same way I felt about listening to music after I created my own eight years ago -- it's not just a consumption process, it's analyzing how the product was made, analyzing how I would make a similar or different product, and the feelings that go into creating the work -- not the product, the work,
This is what creating art does for me -- it intensifies my appreciation of the art others have created -- walking a mile in, not their shoes, but any shoes, just walking the mile, appreciating those who walk any mile, taking each step, crafting each step, showing off the finished product to others. Maybe we'll like it, maybe we won't, taking that risk, like asking that boy out, he might say no, but you have to ask,
It's a realization of the humanity in art, the soul, the sentience, the communication -- the connection. Now I feel like I'm teaching an art history class LOL. Sorry, I'm vomiting rainbows again, heh.
Will I really do this, though, or will I lose interest. Am I committed to re-reading this sprawling epic? Seven years (minus a couple months) sounds like a good budget for it. There's an opportunity cost, what I won't be reading instead. I feel like somebody who has declared he will now re-read Proust. So much lichen.
Having run through NaNoWriMo last month I'm feeling about reading now the same way I felt about listening to music after I created my own eight years ago -- it's not just a consumption process, it's analyzing how the product was made, analyzing how I would make a similar or different product, and the feelings that go into creating the work -- not the product, the work,
This is what creating art does for me -- it intensifies my appreciation of the art others have created -- walking a mile in, not their shoes, but any shoes, just walking the mile, appreciating those who walk any mile, taking each step, crafting each step, showing off the finished product to others. Maybe we'll like it, maybe we won't, taking that risk, like asking that boy out, he might say no, but you have to ask,
It's a realization of the humanity in art, the soul, the sentience, the communication -- the connection. Now I feel like I'm teaching an art history class LOL. Sorry, I'm vomiting rainbows again, heh.
Will I really do this, though, or will I lose interest. Am I committed to re-reading this sprawling epic? Seven years (minus a couple months) sounds like a good budget for it. There's an opportunity cost, what I won't be reading instead. I feel like somebody who has declared he will now re-read Proust. So much lichen.
dialogue, bam
28 November 2020 19:46"This is like reading an obituary backwards,"
That line from Philippa, 3rd season Star Trek: Discovery, slapped me, I had to stop the TV, and I've been spinning with my thoughts for a couple hours since, even meditated for a while. Sometimes writers can punch their words, punch, punch, into your head.
When I was creating my own music, it added to my appreciation of the music I listen to. Now that I'm getting back into creative writing, I'm appreciating other people's writing more deeply. And that line popped so hard.
I have to watch it again.
Writing, and the role playing it involves, flexes my appreciation of the human condition.
That line from Philippa, 3rd season Star Trek: Discovery, slapped me, I had to stop the TV, and I've been spinning with my thoughts for a couple hours since, even meditated for a while. Sometimes writers can punch their words, punch, punch, into your head.
When I was creating my own music, it added to my appreciation of the music I listen to. Now that I'm getting back into creative writing, I'm appreciating other people's writing more deeply. And that line popped so hard.
I have to watch it again.
Writing, and the role playing it involves, flexes my appreciation of the human condition.
No lie, I went to a random Cyberpunk name generator because I'm exploring fiction-writing tools, and the first name it spit was "Bug".
Wait, that's my name! Bug is "Cyberpunk"? I liked one of the other names better, "Frag". I can envision a short story with a bartender asking her feline-enhanced patron, "What kind of mother names her kid 'Frag'?" "The kind of mother named 'Clawhammer'; now pour my god damned tequila."
Then I went to a random color generator because I wanted to rename Black Friday something else: Neon Boneyard Friday.
That's the perfect name for it! Neon Boneyard Friday, sung to the tune of Duran Duran's New Moon on Monday, although you'll have to squish the syllables a bit. Say "Neon" as one syllable "Nyon". Like in Russian, they make all their vowels start with "y". Nyon Bone-yard Friday, and a firedance through the night,
I have vertigo again, that's my excuse. I'll have to do that anti-vertigo skull-rolling exercise to fix it again -- a tiny rock of calcium has broken off inside my ear, I'll have to roll it through the spiral liquid-filled chamber until it stops fooling my body into thinking gravity is forever broken. I'm waiting until daylight, sort of enjoying the natural high of my bed spinning around, the walls oscillating, me staggering as though pissed while slamming closet doors with defensive hands as I tumble toward the bathroom for my 2am pee. My urine spiraling through the night-lit air, I'm on the International Space Station, this is pee free fall.
-----
Neon Boneyard.
That's not just a color, that's a global status tag. That's the title of my next story. The story of Frag Clawhammer making her first planetfall on Vertiga, where she plans to commit genocide.
-----
If you want to write Cyberpunk, I recommend having vertigo. Give your protagonist vertigo. Make the entire damned planet vertiginous!
Shake up the picture, the lizard mixture
With your dance on the eventide
OK, enough, T is awake, I can do the spiral skull exercises now. After I pee again.
Wait, that's my name! Bug is "Cyberpunk"? I liked one of the other names better, "Frag". I can envision a short story with a bartender asking her feline-enhanced patron, "What kind of mother names her kid 'Frag'?" "The kind of mother named 'Clawhammer'; now pour my god damned tequila."
Then I went to a random color generator because I wanted to rename Black Friday something else: Neon Boneyard Friday.
That's the perfect name for it! Neon Boneyard Friday, sung to the tune of Duran Duran's New Moon on Monday, although you'll have to squish the syllables a bit. Say "Neon" as one syllable "Nyon". Like in Russian, they make all their vowels start with "y". Nyon Bone-yard Friday, and a firedance through the night,
I have vertigo again, that's my excuse. I'll have to do that anti-vertigo skull-rolling exercise to fix it again -- a tiny rock of calcium has broken off inside my ear, I'll have to roll it through the spiral liquid-filled chamber until it stops fooling my body into thinking gravity is forever broken. I'm waiting until daylight, sort of enjoying the natural high of my bed spinning around, the walls oscillating, me staggering as though pissed while slamming closet doors with defensive hands as I tumble toward the bathroom for my 2am pee. My urine spiraling through the night-lit air, I'm on the International Space Station, this is pee free fall.
-----
Neon Boneyard.
That's not just a color, that's a global status tag. That's the title of my next story. The story of Frag Clawhammer making her first planetfall on Vertiga, where she plans to commit genocide.
-----
If you want to write Cyberpunk, I recommend having vertigo. Give your protagonist vertigo. Make the entire damned planet vertiginous!
Shake up the picture, the lizard mixture
With your dance on the eventide
OK, enough, T is awake, I can do the spiral skull exercises now. After I pee again.
I've always been intrigued by NaNoWriMo. I've always enjoyed creative writing, with no concern about whether it would "sell" or not, but it looks like I needed this Pandemic Quarantine to get through the entire month, though I'm only 2/3 of the way now, but ... having never made it this far, I'm realizing: Wait, I have to figure out how to end this story on November 30! Where is this going? :-)
This series of stories started years ago with a spontaneous short story about Chris, an unhappy clone, one of the first human clones, coming to terms with who he was and with his creator and why he was created, then forging an independent life for himself. Later I wrote about Matt and Alex, and Matt meeting Chris -- but all this a couple decades later. With Tate thrown in on the side -- I don't think that was for NaNoWriMo, I think it was also spontaneous creative writing.
But last November I wanted to do NaNoWriMo, and I started off with Tate's mother Talon, and made the story mainly about Tate, except I had to travel for work in mid-November and totally lost my thread. And it was kind of YA, about the Problems of a Teen. But that work travel was too stressful! No room in my head for all these characters. Also trying to hang out with friends in Chicago, making it into a leisure trip.
[I still remember, a handsome young man playing a guitar and singing, inside a used book store, me having an instant crush on him. While simultaneously feeling depressed because the person I'd wanted to meet that night had flaked on me. Sad, but, look at that beautiful young man, just a few feet away from me. Such beauty exists on this planet.]
As K was leaving for Portland, I knew I needed some art therapy. First I went after music, but because I'd lost my files from last time, the learning curve was going to be steep. It was easier to slide into NaNoWriMo, because I write a lot all the time already. Last year I'd proven to myself I could keep up the required word count pace, to write a novel within a month. I still want to do music! But right now I'm writing. Writing. Writing. Thinking about Writing.
And it's fun! I'm finally having fun, doing something new and creative, during Quarantine. And now suddenly doing more "new" stuff -- interacting with sexy fellas online.
Goddess, the past two months have been a lot. The entire year has been a lot. Ever since I realized this Pandemic was going to fuck everything up. And then it did. And Trump still won't let go.
-----
The best thing about being 53 -- I'm more comfortable being me than ever before. I'd never go back to being younger. I wasn't yet myself. I think -- probably the 50s is when human males get to know themselves best, before the aging process becomes overwhelming. But we'll see how long I can keep this going, heh.
This series of stories started years ago with a spontaneous short story about Chris, an unhappy clone, one of the first human clones, coming to terms with who he was and with his creator and why he was created, then forging an independent life for himself. Later I wrote about Matt and Alex, and Matt meeting Chris -- but all this a couple decades later. With Tate thrown in on the side -- I don't think that was for NaNoWriMo, I think it was also spontaneous creative writing.
But last November I wanted to do NaNoWriMo, and I started off with Tate's mother Talon, and made the story mainly about Tate, except I had to travel for work in mid-November and totally lost my thread. And it was kind of YA, about the Problems of a Teen. But that work travel was too stressful! No room in my head for all these characters. Also trying to hang out with friends in Chicago, making it into a leisure trip.
[I still remember, a handsome young man playing a guitar and singing, inside a used book store, me having an instant crush on him. While simultaneously feeling depressed because the person I'd wanted to meet that night had flaked on me. Sad, but, look at that beautiful young man, just a few feet away from me. Such beauty exists on this planet.]
As K was leaving for Portland, I knew I needed some art therapy. First I went after music, but because I'd lost my files from last time, the learning curve was going to be steep. It was easier to slide into NaNoWriMo, because I write a lot all the time already. Last year I'd proven to myself I could keep up the required word count pace, to write a novel within a month. I still want to do music! But right now I'm writing. Writing. Writing. Thinking about Writing.
And it's fun! I'm finally having fun, doing something new and creative, during Quarantine. And now suddenly doing more "new" stuff -- interacting with sexy fellas online.
Goddess, the past two months have been a lot. The entire year has been a lot. Ever since I realized this Pandemic was going to fuck everything up. And then it did. And Trump still won't let go.
-----
The best thing about being 53 -- I'm more comfortable being me than ever before. I'd never go back to being younger. I wasn't yet myself. I think -- probably the 50s is when human males get to know themselves best, before the aging process becomes overwhelming. But we'll see how long I can keep this going, heh.
OK, will wrap it up
8 November 2020 12:23I figured out how my story will end, might wrap it up today, although there's so much more of November left, LOL. I will not prolong the story just to fill the entire month with cliffhangers like Prison Break season one, LOL.
I can't believe that show continued for five seasons.
-----
I'm definitely drawing the next card from the Cum Deck as soon as I wake tomorrow. I need an orgasm ASAP.
I can't believe that show continued for five seasons.
-----
I'm definitely drawing the next card from the Cum Deck as soon as I wake tomorrow. I need an orgasm ASAP.
