Sunday, October 11, 2009

25. Tings Nov 25

(2:03 pm Nov 25, 2005)


Talent. Some of us have it and some of us do. Where do you fall gentle reader?

Talent. Endowment. Gold. Three thousand six hundred shekels? Three thousand shekels? Six thousand shekels? One hundred libra? Above the line personnel. On camera. On air. Actors and extras. Skill. Ability. Aptitude.

Talent show. Wanna come up and see my golden talent?

Major low voltage blues again this morning. Come on BEC, you can do better. Give it a go and see if the people don't appreciate you more. Stop burning up their stuff with low voltage, high voltage, and surge. And dirty voltage. Just send us some good clean voltage down the line.

How come work to rule results in so many disruptions? Shouldn't the rules agreed to result in a well run operation? If not, why have such a rule to work to? Inquiring minds want to know.

(2:15 pm Nov 25, 2005)

Bring it home man, bring it home.

Give me the power. No, it's OK now, but it was bad once again this morning.


Now gentle reader, what you did not know yesterday when you took that trip to Long Island on the sloop John B. was that the John B. was a ghost ship. Yes, you see, according to one version of the story, after that fateful night roaming drunkenly around Nassau town, what with the culinary disaster, and the raiding of the luggage and the incident with the sheriff, and all else that happened on that wild night, the John B. never did get home. No, that sloop ran aground and broke up on a bar. On account of a bar and a bar as it were.

Ever since that night of disaster, she has continued to sail these waters, trying to get home.

(2:31 pm Nov 25, 2005)

I feel so break up, I wanna go home.

And so the Gentle Reader took a trip on a sailing ship, sailed from Nassau town down to Long Island where the sheep runners roam. Went to meet the brothers Gruff. Took the trip on a ghost ship. Never suspecting, and trusting in the author to see him safely to port. And while the author brought him safely to shore in the physical sense, who can tell what damage may have been done to the gentle reader's inner being as a result of travel aboard such a craft?

(2:35 pm Nov 25, 2005)

(3:55 pm Nov 25, 2005)

Bruno was sitting at his table trying to get some software that would allow him to play with ogg podcasts. I will let you know later how this worked out for him. While he was fooling around, he was listening to the low voltage blues and the nanowrimo song in a very short rotation. Very short.


Melody was looking forward to the pegging tournament tonight. And then after the tournament, The Buzz for some tunes. Mocha said she would come. Bruno had said that he might not make it on account of being so far behind in his word count.

(4:02 pm Nov 25, 2005)


Robber. Thief. Burglar. Mugger. Highwayman. Pirate. Villains all. Though some are thought dashing.

Bruno got the ogg podcast working in ipodder. He was able to get the cbc radio3 ogg podcast to download in ipodder and play in xmms. Now he could get down to writing while listening to some tunes, later, he could look into what it would take to put together some ogg podcasts with BY-SA island music.


Robber. Violence. Robbery. A robber in the night. Robber, he steals by threatening violence.

(4:24 pm Nov 25, 2005)

So, once again gentle reader I find the block threatening. Trying to steal my time. And once again I shall try to overcome by force of shear effort and speed.

Gonna write me a nano song...

Gonna play me a nano tune...

These are times calling for innovation. New ways. A hearkening back to the old ways at times. Back to the times before the times before these times. Why was freedom such a scary thing to so many? Oh, they valued their own freedom for sure. (At least they thought they did.) But when it came to the freedom of others, they felt threatened. And so, they set about to devise schemes and stratagems that could be used to take away the freedom of others.

Some day, I will have to document some of these for you, but I cannot afford to at the moment. It would take clear thinking. And clear thinking is a luxury that I just do not have this month. Nano has stole it from me. Mind you, they did not rob me, no, there was no threat of violence. I came willingly.

(4:53 pm Nov 25, 2005)

This attempt at speed does not seem to speedy at the moment now does it?

I would stop now and go to editing and a smaller word count, but I really want to keep the two grand a day for every day of the month if at all possible. So, once more into the breach.

(5:00 pm Nov 25, 2005)

Why is it getting harder and harder? Is it the plot that escaped that has led to all of this?

Is it the month of too little sleep and too much writing that has fuzzed up the brain?

Is it an alien ray that is penetrating my invisible tin foil hat?

Is it all about the pistles?

Is it too hot to handle?

Is it fizzy?

Is it dizzy.

Is it lizzy?

Is he?

And bit by bit, byte by byte, we pile word on word and sentence on sentence. Paragraph on paragraph. Scene on scene. Section on section. Chapter on chapter. And in the constant effort we create something bigger than we thought we could. Bigger than we felt capable of. And so on and so on.

So, you see, gentle reader, why things stand as they do. I only ask that you once again consider writing a nano book for yourself next year if you have not already done so. Naturally, if you have already, send it along if you will. And in any event, join in again next year if you can.

(5:07 pm Nov 25, 2005)


(5:19 pm Nov 25, 2005)

Yeow! Now that is speed gone to bed! You see that? I bet you have never seen such prodigious output before in any book you have ever read! Come on, admit it!

Squeeze. Compress. Grip. Press. Wedge. Coerce. Profits. Extort. Wring. Thrust. Stuff. Force. Pinch. Power play. Hug. Embrace. Trick. Short.

Main squeeze. Yeah man, she was his main squeeze, but Big Man roach him.

(5:26 pm Nov 25, 2005)

What happened to the lack of pressure that was felt on crossing the fifty thousand mark? Why had the feeling of accomplishment and pleasure that resulted evaporated so quickly only to be replaced by this struggle, this daily struggle to pass the blocks and get the words out? Why, tell me why, did you not buy the night? No, no, I know you cannot buy the knight. Obviously the knight is not for sale. And the knight will not sail on the sloop John B.

(5:35 pm Nov 25, 2005)

Have you ever had a main squeeze? Me neither. Well, maybe. It depends. It all comes down to how you look at it after all. And now, hunger comes a calling. And so, no flow, another stoppage for another reason. Another chance for a blockage to develop. Another slowing in the words per minute figure.

If only there was a way to connect up the finger tips to the brain and .... ah, I need that lubricant about now don't I? What was it again?

(5:38 pm Nov 25, 2005)

(8:21 pm Nov 25, 2005)

You see what I mean about today? What's a speedy writer to do in a situation like this?


So this flamingo tongue named Jenny Licker comes sliding into the club and eases up to the bar. The bar keep, the same one from that story where he doubled up the dose to keep from coffin, pours her a double shot of "My Baby's Luv" and passes it over with a wink and a smile.

Jenny knocks it back with a grimace and slams the glass down, upside down on the bar.

Just then this triker who has been sitting against the wall all night on a chair, tilted back on two legs, chair legs, stands up and rushes the keep with a banshee wail.

Never one to be taken unawares, the keep had been keeping a wary eye on the triker all night, the keep brought up a club of the tree of life from under the bar and had a little conversation with him as he approached.

Jenny gave the keep a hard smile and eased down to look at the triker.

"You didn't have to talk so loud you know, I think a normal tone of voice would have worked on this guy. Now he will probably be out all night. What will his mother think."

"Look Jenny, I don't take chances with trikers, you know that. What's he to you anyway?"

"Oh, not much, only, the thing is, he's the reason I came to this dive tonight, and now, thanks to your way with words, I am going to have to waste a few hours trying to convince him to open his eyes and talk to me. Can you get someone to help me carry him to the conference room?"

(8:32 pm Nov 25, 2005)


Fling. Throw. Hurl. Crack. Whirl. Spree. Splurge. Discard. Dive.

I thought she was your main squeeze. No man, I had a fling with her is all. That solid gal is my main squeeze from way back when, you should know that.

Fling, flung, flang, flingded.

The keep had had a thing for Jenny for a long time now. He was looking for love but he would be happy with just a fling, a little spritz of fun with her would be a good start in his estimation.

(8:37 pm Nov 25, 2005)

He came out from behind the bar and helped Jenny drag the triker into the conference room. He left them there and went back to tend the bar.

Before long, Jenny slid back out to the bar for another drink and then picked up a guitar and sat on a stool and began singing some old island tunes.

The keep listened and sighed.


Over at The Buzz, Bruno was limbering up on the kit and Melody was warming up her voice. She sometimes wished she could warm up like the goatskins did but that was wishful thinking. Voices just didn't warm up like drums.


(8:50 pm Nov 25, 2005)

Over at the pegging tournament, Vikta D. was sitting and talking quietly with Chocolate. He had a bad feeling about tonight, but Chocolate said not to worry, she was ready and feeling great. She said she was looking forward to the fights tonight even more than normal. Vikta was slightly encouraged, but he still felt uneasy.

And rightly so. He didn't know it, but the loneliness was getting to Chocolate. She was wondering if she was going to be able to take it much longer. Oh, she was all excited in the beginning. And even more so when she first rose to fame and "Death by Chocolate!" became a popular phrase around town. It felt good to be a celebrity. She had felt sorry for Vikta D. who was a celebrity as well, but an unknown one. She considered herself lucky to be on top of her game and known by sight around town. (Remember, this is all in the context of an underground sport mind you.)

She had never felt so alive as when she won a tournament again and again. Death by Chocolate! Sweetness.

But she hadn't counted on the weekday boredom and loneliness. The weekdays had started to wear on her. She started living for the weekends. The weekdays passed in a blur or in a haze. Take your pick.

And so, she had begun taking chances, little chances at first, chances that even Vikta didn't notice. They paid off and she one quicker and more convincingly. She was elated. She started taking slightly bigger chances.

It's an old old story and I'm sure you have heard it many times before. I am sure.

Tonight, she felt like taking even bigger chances still. She wanted to live on the edge tonight, perhaps even to stare destruction in the eye.

(9:07 pm Nov 25, 2005)

No comments:

Post a Comment