Imagozen

I’m going through my backlog of stuff I started, and finishing it. It took a while to fish out all the little scraps and put them all in one spot, but now I’ve got them nailed down, I can tick them off when I get them done. This one is from ages ago, July by the date in the link (holy shit, that can’t be right, can it?). We need an apocalypse, but a different sort from one that’s been done to death.

 

Imagozen

Everything was on the up and up. Things were going swimmingly... the Middle East wasn’t exactly at peace but there was some progress. The stock markets were up, logging of the rain forests was down. Man was on his way to Mars, and most amazing of all, Cleveland is in with a chance to win the World Series. See? Not too shabby. A shame that was all about to change...

For this is not the only place where life is to be found. Yeah yeah, I know what you’re thinking - those fine fella’s in the lab-coats haven’t found proof of what I’m saying, so why take me at my word? Just listen patiently, and when this story’s told think back and see if I’m right. I bet this is the last great tall tale ever told. That’s unfortunate on two counts... it’s not that great, and it’s the truth, honest injun.

Like I said, the Earth ain’t the only place where thought goes on, and humans are not even the top of the heap. Its not like they thought back in B-grade movies, they’re not coming here to eat us or mine our atmosphere. Nor is it going to be a case of Kirk making sweet love to a range of alien women each week. They won’t be bringing a message of universal peace love and happiness and all that malarkey. Apart from a few wild stories like mine that most likely won’t be believed (though they’re completely legit my friend) that’s about all the “evidence” there will ever be.

Those old black and white flicks were nudging towards the right sorta idea. Technically what those tentacled sumbitches are up to doesn’t hurt humans, its more a quality of life thing, see? There’s only so much imagozen sloshing around the galaxy - it’s a finite resource. And the bug eyed monsters don’t really feel like sharing. Scratching your head wondering what’s imagozen? I’ll tells ya: it’s that spark of inspiration and creativity that some people call a muse, or the bolt outta the blue. It’s the bit that made Edison so sweaty, Curie so curious, what gave Picasso his gumption and Henry Ford his moxie. James Joyce had the stuff dripping outa his ears if he turned his head too sharply. Elvis probably died of an overdose of it, the poor bloke.

A solid definition imagozen is a wee bit tricky... it’s hard to pin down kinda like how light is a wave and a particle - or how a cat is dead yet alive. Element? Nah. Force? Not really. Energy? Eh... kind of. Something spiritual or spooky... nooooo, not quite. But you get the idea of what I’m groping for, right? If not just nod your damn head so I can continue for the sake of the rest of the peanut gallery, attention spans these days are getting shorter.

Where was I? That’s right, cutting off the imagozen supply to Earth. It’s not fatal, but you can see its effects everywhere. Don’t believe me? You must not have cable TV my fine friend. I hear they now have a show called The Skunk Whisperer. Look at what the latest “innovation” was with the iPhone - releasing it in white. What a breakthrough! Didja ever hear tell of that infinite number of monkeys banging away on typewriters, trying to do Shakespeare? Seems they’ve run out of steam, and won’t ever get back up to speed. I tell ya, them aliens have won. I should know, as now the job of me and my colleagues is done, we can finally get off this ball of rock you lunk-heads call home. Not that it wasn’t fun at time, but I miss the good life that imagozen provides. Enjoy your reality T.V. and cookie-cutter boy bands.

Songbird

After rummaging through the always awesome website of Buddhafulkat I found a simple, new writing challenge that is perfect for banging out quickly... weekly 100 word challenges at Julia’s Place. This week is a Christmas themed one: You are to write as the Santa arrowed...

 Picture obviously pinched from their website

Here’s my entry, 100 words on the dot. I’m not sure if we’re meant to write exactly 100, or 100 and under. I’ll work it out eventually though. 

Songbird

Everyone else in the choir is laughing and smiling, but they’re just backing vocalists compared to me. It was my solo that carried it, and I nailed it. Really knocked it out of the park. I’m a goddamned virtuoso. Someday, there’ll be a gold star above my name. Melanie the Diva they’ll call me.

Settle down! OK that’s enough of that sort of thinking for now Mel. This is a house of God, and pride is a sin. Let’s practice some humility here. Eyes downcast humbly, a slight smile and accept the lions’ share of the applause as my own.

Tokenistic New Year News

Paradoxically, I do less writing when I'm on holidays. Since the amount of leisure time is greater, I spend more of it with Tho - not a bad thing in my mind at all. A fair chunk of my writing I do in down time at work, when the kids are at PE or after they've gone home. Obviously, that gave me little chance of completing Nano, but that's OK, I knew it was going to be the case. I still plan on finishing the story, by doing about 2K a week or so on it, a modest, manageable goal. I'm also looking around for more flash fiction things to try my hand at too, so if you know any sing out. And I also intend on doing some more short pieces off my own bat, thinking of my own ideas rather than just flailing around waiting on others to give me topics. Finally, I've started using various software for making lists and writing down ideas. I used to think they were a load of bollocks, but after trying a few, I've found them to be pretty useful.

In which I exploit my students for my own nefarious ends.

Using bribes and blandishments, I bludgeoned the children under my care into creating a second entry. After all, alliteration is educational, and enjoyable. Broaching the topic with a bout of brainstorming, the tiny tykes took to it with great gusto - displaying the Double Dead dust-cover roused roars of approval (graphically you’re good in the 8 - 9 group). The little fella’s had fun, and found that they could ignore irritation enough so that illustrators (such as girls and others of that icky ilk) were worth working with without worry. Wendig Education: Easing the educators load with lively lessons.


There’s only so much Christmas stuff you can do at this time of year, and we’ve pretty much hit the limit, so why not alliteration I thought.

My unruly horde of demons third graders have a wide range of ability: one kid when doing his information report about Cheetahs wrote something along the lines of “A cheetah is graceful and flexible, like a girl doing yoga” (he’s going to be a lady-killer when he’s older, he already has an impish smile) right down to kids who will maybe sharpen their pencil three times and write their name down before it’s time to stop and listen to a story instead. Since we’re in Vietnam, we also have a range of English ability, but not so bad as other years... no clutching their crotch and grunting (well, sometimes they do but that’s just when they’re being surly, they have the ability to string a sentence together asking permission to go to the toilet). They liked the assignment well enough, especially when they were allowed to form their own groups, but loved the chance of winning great glory for me, in the form of the book. That caused a reshuffling of the groups so they weren’t just formed on friendships, but more on ability (with plenty of helping of the ones that were struggling by the sharper ones, and the best kid at drawing in both class roving round and giving pointers)... so pretty much a win-win situation, education-wise.

The boy thinks that bats have bones. Good, alliteration and paying attention in our unit on vertebrates

Bees like banana and butter. I’m glad I got a completed work sample from this kid, it is a bit of a rarity.

Black bears are bad. The crown says I am the queen of angry

My brother has a big blue balloon

Cao Hung is hunting the hippo

A triumvirate of Cao Hung dancing hip-hop in his house. I guess he is celebrating his successful slaughter of the hippo

Two people digging for dead dinosaur bones

My Dad and Mr. David (that's me!) like to kill dragons

I dreamed about dragons in my dark bedroom

The duck is drinking durian juice. Yuck. I can eat pretty much any animal presented to me, but durian I find pretty rugged.

Eleven elephants learn English

Linh loves to lick little lollipops... so much she did it quite a few times.

The lion ate a lollipop and lizard.

Mr. Mark is eating mangoes on his trip to the mountain

Mum made a moon cake. Due to drawing style, mum is a bit of a MILF too.

Oops! There is an octopus in the Arctic Ocean

The owl is staying on the ox... this kid arrived late both days we were doing alliteration, so she only had a hazy grasp of the concept, but she got there in the end.

People are watching the penguin finish playing the piano

Pink Panther is playing with the purple pig

Thanh Tung is playing with his teddy bear

The Viking is playing the violin. I said I wanted at least three occurrences of the letter, but this kid came up with his entry off his own bat, in a group of one, and once again, I'm glad to get something from them.

Three zombie/zebra/Zhao Hung combinations, with the zombies heavily influenced by Plants V’s Zombies which is huge with my kids (as is Walking Dead, but that is way too scary for me).

And because there’s always someone who doesn’t listen to the instructions, a vampire entry. But he did at least listen to the bit about the book: Double Dead is coming to our world. I showed them the cover like I said, and they loved it, and wanted to know what it was about “I don’t know much about it yet, but I might soon if you win it for me. All I know is there is a vampire who has to fight zombies for who gets to eat the people.”

Scenes from a Stellar Skirmish

Well, the less said about Nano the better. November is a rough month for free time, what with it being prime wedding season here. That doesn’t mean my book is dead and buried, it just means it’ll take longer.

Alliteration, that’s the challenge for this week. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be just the title, or the whole shebang, so I figured it was safer to go with lots of alliteration. I’ve always been a fan of epic poems, which often tend to have quite a bit of alliteration in them. They’re writing in hard mode, as they’re often translations, so it can be tricky to stay true to the idea being expressed and find the right word to represent it.

I decided to go with space for my short story - a titchy wee one, as there’s quite a bit of alliteration going on. I’m neither Virgil nor a skald, and they tended to limit themselves to three repetitive sounds on a line, mixing it up with normal words too.

And since it’s space a space theme, I might as well throw in a nice picture, which has a special place in my heart. In Star Control 2, this is the main image we’re presented of the race of aliens called the Spathi. One of their pilots is called Snelopy, a name I liked so much I added an extra l to and took it as my own.

<Picture lifted from http://www.star-control.com/hosted/happycamper/gifs/spathi.gif they pinched it from Star Control II. He is supposed to animate, but he's not doing so at the moment, and I'm running out of time to fiddle with it>

Scenes from a Stellar Skirmish

As always, the attackers approached from Andromeda. Sweeping silently through space, shields set, the squadron started to intercept. Descending on the dreadnoughts, determined to dispatch them... Flying in formation, fighters at the fore, with the frigates following - the foe failed to flee. Commands were cried out, combat codes cleared: crews at the ready.

We waited, weighing up the odds for our exact time to engage the enemy. My units mission: maneuver in amongst their ships, seeking to snare one before it was blasted to bits. Force fields fell to phaser cannons and concussion charges.

Time! Twenty troops touched down, hacking into the hull, hewing hunks off. Gaining egress, guns up, eyes guarded, we blasted bulkheads until they buckled. Klaxons clanged, interspersed with the chittering and clicking that made up their speech.

Finally, we faced our foes in the foredeck, vulcan cannons and the vacuum giving them vacant eyes, tentacles twitching as they twisted round the levers and lights that comprised their control panel. Proud of our prize, we hauled it into our hold and headed home, hyperdrive humming.

Nano!

Its November, so I should be writing. I've started, but its time for a distraction... To the good old days of There and Lost Again.

That's out the front of Thunder Bluff

Right, back to writing!

Gumshoe

I started this one here, but didn't finish it. To recap: Based off this picture, write something. 

Now that this one is finished, I can move onto the next one. Progress, and baby steps towards getting in the habit of completing things.

Gumshoe

"Same again, thanks sweetheart" I say, waggling my empty coffee cup at the dame in the waitress uniform. She sighed, and came back with a fresh cup of joe. I'd had two already, and a third would mean no sleep for a week, but when you're on a stakeout, you gotta look the part. I slurped off a mouthful and then surreptitiously turfed the rest out in the potted plant. With a generous pour from my hip flask, I refilled the cup with the good stuff... just enough to counteract the caffeine high. In this line of work, you need steady hands. It's not so bad, being a private dick. Sure the hours are longer than back when I was on the force, but I'm my own boss. I don't have to answer to no-one no more.

I notice a twitch at the curtain to the room the mark is in, and like a shot I'm engrossed in the funny pages... head down, just a regular schmoe having a break. This dive of a flop-house is more up market than his usual haunts, so business must be on the up and up. I am sure the boys in blue would be interested in that, but they’d just scare off the big fish. In the reflection of the glass, I see him heading out the door, so I throw down a five spot to keep the waitress sweet on me tomorrow and hoof it after him. I've got a knack at being a subtle tail, after the time I put in down in the Bronx, but a New Orleans Jazz band could be banging and blaring away for all the care he's paying. Can't say as I blame him, as its bucketing down and the wind is making sure that your birthday suit gets soaked.

Down to the wharf, and into a little hole-in-the-wall bar... not his usual stomping ground, so maybe he is working tonight after all. I give the area the once over then head on in. I order a beer and a bourbon, and hunker down at a table with my back to him, but close enough so I can hear what he's saying, and fish out my deck of cards and get all engrossed in a game of solitaire. Our chum is getting nowhere fast with the skirt behind the bar, and I think the evening may be a complete washout. Then bold as brass, in waltzes one of Harvey's boys. So I'm back to earning my keep, as even if these hours ain't billable to my current client knowing what Harvey is up to is always bankable.

Next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, I'm warmly greeted by the dame in the diner. I take a stool where I can see the hotel out the front window, and order the blue plate special. I think I'm gonna haveta linger over coffee yet again, but once more there's the twitch to the curtain, so I shovel the last of the eggs and hash into my gob, and wolf it down. Telling her to keep the change, I'm out the door and after him like a flea on a dog. After last night's conversation, I definitely don't want to lose him so I stay as close as I can, doing my best not to be too conspicuous dodging the puddles. We go by Shanks' Pony over towards Brooklyn and in my head I'm already counting the notes, crinkling that filthy lucre in my fingers and trying to decide if I should pay my overdue rent or splurge.

He darts down an alley furtive all of a sudden, and I worried I’ve blown it. I turn my collar up and keep on walking, only glancing out the corner of my eye. Its not as bad as I thought, he’s just taking a leak on some trashcans. And there was me, thinking I was losing my edge! I lean against a nearby bus stop sign and get busy fixing a smoke. Before long our fine upstanding pillar of the community heads on out, doing up his fly.

We head east, and I for one am getting sick of all this leg work, but there ain’t nothing I can do but grin and bear it. Finally we get to the joint he’s interested in, and I walk on by. I come back a few minutes later and give some scratch to a couple of winos loitering nearby to get the lowdown on the building. The coherent bits of our conversation stink of Harvey all over, so I make myself scarce as he’ll have eyes all over the place.

Sooner than I thought I see him schleping past again so I down my drink and shadow him, all discreet. I figure I can knock off early today, as all he did is buy some hooch and head back to his two-bit flea-pit motel. Back in the office I start going through some paperwork with a few fingers of scotch as lubrication, when who comes knocking but O’Casey. Still drunk as a skunk since they took his badge off him. A damn shame about that kid, There but for the grace o God and all that jazz. I give him some simple shoe leather stuff outa sympathy, but I make sure it ain’t nothing that needs subtlety.

Later still the door bangs open, I holler we’re closed, but it’s the client I’m working for. I wasn’t expecting to see him for a while. Says he’s come to an arrangement and my services are no longer required. I start to protest but he wordlessly dumps a pile of cash on my desk, much more than what I would have racked up even with padding my expense account. It seems fishy to me, but who am I to argue with a big pile of dough? I bow to the logic that the customer is always right, and wave him out as I begin to count it. I only said I wouldn’t report to him, not that I’d lay off my lead. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.