tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81616823366763052662024-02-20T09:38:53.664+00:00dancingcrab speaksYou're welcome to stay, but even your company must compliment the Feng Shui.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-12932120494205701702010-07-30T22:30:00.003+01:002010-08-27T00:24:53.452+01:00Look to the sky hoping it will bleed lightI feel stirrings within the blogosphere...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-16965170180390273252009-10-08T20:38:00.003+01:002009-10-08T20:48:06.485+01:00HeritageHmmm.<br /><br />(Have I begun a post with that before? Probably.)<br /><br />Hmmm.<br /><br />Okay. So I now live in the United States of America.<br /><br />Wait...<br /><br />What?!<br /><br />I am living... in... the USA. It's true. At least, I keep telling myself it's true. About ninety-seven percent of my brain can't grasp it. The remaining three percentile are about to perform a strike action caused by the majority's refusal to accept.<br /><br />It's problematic.<br /><br />With the impending withdrawal of the comprehending three percent, I face complete regression into a state of infantile denial - a mentally induced 'pre-America' stasis of sorts. I fear I will insist on driving on the left (whilst sat in the passenger seat); continue to seek methods of TV tax avoidance, asserting that my actions are legit; scream at the spell-checker's inability to spell; assume health care is a basic human right that everyone receives (no matter how rubbish the health care service may be); expect the date to be presented in a logical string of numbers going from the smallest unit (i.e. the day) to the largest (i.e. the year); and put milk in my tea. Which I do anyway.<br /><br />Luckily I'm currently surviving on an instinct that doesn't require the forward-thinking minority of my brain at all. I generally refer to this instinct as HOLIDAY MODE. HOLIDAY MODE is fun because it's a state of suspended functionality. Useful, everyday functions become obscenely difficult, enabling me to put huge, stockpiled resources into loafing and doing not much. Of course, HOLIDAY MODE wasn't designed to be an ongoing habitude.<br /><br />This all leaves me somewhat concerned. Yet, despite the three percentile, despite HOLIDAY MODE, I'm beginning to suspect my westward transistion will, in fact, never truly have the impact that I am so fearfully awaiting. At least, conceivably, not in the ways I might expect.<br /><br />To phrase it differently : I wonder, maybe, if I have perhaps landed on my feet?<br /><br />Honestly, it's hard to tell. I'm having such a good time right now. With so many things on the horizon (er, wedding?), it's leaving me with little to gauge how I'm doing overall. (You know. As a person. With emotions and stuff.) I have objectives - but not too many. There are new friends and faces. There are computer games. There is sunshine, and the bluest and most strikingly beautiful skies I have ever bothered to notice. Sometimes there are thunderstorms, but that's cool too. I regularly communicate and interact with friends and family back home. It's all gravy.<br /><br />The thing is, life doesn't feel like a grind. It's not a generic forward movement. And I'm loving it.<br /><br />That's all that really matters, right?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-72105272812788582472009-08-31T16:55:00.008+01:002010-07-30T22:35:23.719+01:00Don't get caught alone, oh no...Okay, so I'm working on a real post. Except I keep running off on tangents. Better that I review it, finish it properly, and then publish it. Or rather, I'll put this up with a title I'd planned for the end of August (which it isn't, despite the post's timestamp), postpone putting up anything half-decent indefinitely, and kick back. Sweetness.<br /><br />To write about something meaningless, I shall make the obvious redundantly clear (unless you're blind). Firstly, I realised that the colour I'd been using for my background looked hideous on my new monitor. I can't decide on an alternative though, so my blog may be a little split-personality for a while.<br /><br />Secondly, I've switched up my sidebar a little; no longer am I a tweeter. @dancingcrab still exists, yet all tweets, twoots, twits, twuts, and most definitely tw@ts have been deleted. I had an existweetial dilemma and, as a result, jumped ship. My links have also been revised, mostly bigging up babycrow, but also adding Dead Maids (a friend's band) and Sometimes a Cloud. The latter took some deliberating over: the author, a friend, is an Apple-adoring-junky-head, a personality defect I don't like to encourage. Not that I'm claiming my linking to someone's website here actually has any effect on the world. It doesn't.<br /><br />To speak of anything more meaningful would invalidate, at least in part, my current work in progress, in turn providing little to witter on about in future. Being content in the knowledge that I've actually updated my blog, no matter how meaninglessly, I can now continue to write meaningfully constructed tangents in order to reinforce the lack of meaninglessness inherent in these particular ramblings, and thus prepare you for the overabundance of meaning forthcoming.<br /><br />Stuff like that's just fun to write.<br /><br />END.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-18146222367875523292009-07-07T22:06:00.011+01:002010-07-30T22:35:01.238+01:00Living in sunshine (with the shades pulled down)A funny thing is, writing this blog still makes me cringe. Yet, somehow, I start to feel immensely guilty if I don't post something every few months. Will this particular article appear forced? We shall see.<br /><br />Despite the various geekpies in which I have recently partaken (thanks to a Chippenham-induced level of boredom - maybe not quite as bad as I make it sound), I will attempt to avoid 'geek-centricity'. Rather, I am going to pontificate on the pro et contra of my life... for no reason other than to indulge myself - a decidedly new focus of this here diary.<br /><br />The 'Chippenham-era' presents an interesting, and intensely exciting, transitional stage. A temporary stop-off along the road to a New World (pun perhaps intended), I'm constantly filling in forms, making telephone calls, sending emails, attending appointments, and, invariably, forgetting things on my to-do list. Everything is building to an amazing finale. Excepting the vague apathy regarding my surroundings, I'm definitely enjoying myself. However, just like the calm before the storm, I fear a sudden blowout of emotion on the horizon.<br /><br />In a little under seven weeks, things will change. I plan to move away from family, friends, colleagues and comfort-zone. No, scrap that, the comfort-zone was abandoned when I exited Bath (stage right; next act: Chippers). At some point during this coming epoch, I sense my current, extremely positive feelings will collide with other hidden, submerged, and largely ignored feelings head-on.<br /><br />It might be messy.<br /><br />I have no idea how I will deal with these divined emotions. It doesn't seem real that people who are so important will be so far removed. I hope I can appropriately share with them what I'm experiencing, because I will miss them - a lot. It's important that I impart such to them. Although these ninja-emotions may be unpleasant, said ninja-emotions are also stepping stones that I choose, and want, to follow. By stepping, I don't mean to cut the tethers tying me to those I care about; in fact, somewhere down the line, I expect to look back and realise that those same tethers were never at risk of breaking anyways. Things just have a habit of feeling bigger than they are.<br /><br />One thing is certain, however: these next few weeks will be unique.<br /><br />Okay, now I should really go to bed.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Bang.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-33436613923269163802009-05-27T17:20:00.015+01:002009-06-02T22:57:06.989+01:00Picture me rollingMassive geek post: video games! There are way too many coming out over the next year. Makes me really want my new PC now. My current rig is sitting in my room with its case permanently cracked open so I can easily get at it whenever the SATA cable comes loose (identifiable by a loud click and then the partial-freezing of the OS). It's done me well, but definitely at the end of its life. With the coming of Windows 7 (October this year), I'm excited at the idea of bypassing Vista entirely... even if it means I'm gonna have to ride W7 RC1 for a while.<br /><br />The list of new and exciting titles includes mostly sequels (to mostly good games):<br /><br />BioShock 2 - its predecessor was a bit of a mixed bag, although this looks to be shaping up good. It'll include a co-op prequel mode as well, which could be hot shizzle.<br /><br />Assassin's Creed 2 - okay, so I've never played the original. Yet. It's on my wish list. My current rig wouldn't be able to handle it. However, once I have a new PC, play through AC1, I'm sure this'll be worth 10-12 hours.<br /><br />Diablo III - yes!<br /><br />Starcraft II - yes! Blizzard seem to have opted for the episodic thang with this one, so this particular installment (Wings Of Liberty) will be the Terran campaign only.<br /><br />Mass Effect 2 - I'd really like to see the second DLC for ME1 before thinking too hard about ME2 - it'd give me more reason to play through it again and thus put me in good stead for the sequel. ME2 does look really sexy though - forget J.J. Abrams Star Trek, Mass Effect is the real deal when it comes to space operas.<br /><br />Thief 4 - can't believe they're making another. The first one is up there with the greats (and also the only one in the series I've completed), but the little I played of T3, well, it just lacked something.<br /><br />Deus Ex 3 - never finished the first, although it was a great game. The second never appealed as much, but I might pick it up cheap one day. A refreshed take on this brief franchise might just work.<br /><br />Dragon Age: Origins - the only truly new title. However, BioWare have said that it's the spiritual heir to the Baldur's Gate series. A bit like BioShock is to System Shock I guess. As with any high profile release that includes consoles (and this one is shooting for both XBox and PS3), I'm a little nervous about the 'dumb-down' factor, but BioWare have a good rep for giving PC editions the love and attention they deserve, e.g. Mass Effect.<br /><br />There are loads more, of course. I'll never have the time...<br /><br />Especially if the 2010 Playoffs are anywhere near as exciting as '09! The game last night (Cavs @ Orlando) was awesome. Of course, that may have had something to do with it being my first time watching b-ball at an all-American 'pub' (go figure) - I had fun. Don't think I'm gonna get an opportunity to watch the Lakers/Nuggets game tonight, but I'm pulling for Denver; Billups' game is tight right now, still got love for him despite the transfer.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm off to watch the Champions League final shortly. Seems I've more interest in footie here in the States than at home. Not really sure I want to see Manchester win though...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-46258815036642828952009-05-07T23:18:00.018+01:002009-05-25T18:37:32.918+01:00I'm living where the nights is jet blackJust banged this out over the last three hours. Not sure why or how.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In the beginning, there was nothing except for the glow. The edges of nothingness smouldered with the slow burning light of life. Gradually the light focused, magnified, and became more intense; it shone brightly into the darkest corners of emptiness. This light was Ubai’um. And in these dark corners of emptiness, enshrouded by shadow, dwelt the slumbering forms of the San’bai-Dhul.</span><br /><br />’ (apostrophe)<br />Indicates inflection by way of affix (usually suffix, e.g. Ubai’um – Light that is god)<br /><br />- (hyphen)<br />Used to indicate wholeness of a proper noun containing two or more components (e.g. Ubai-ul-Suluum - city of Light)<br /><br />bai <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Dusk/night/darkness<br /><br />bai <span style="font-style: italic;">suffix</span><br />Indicates subservience (e.g. San’bai – servant of Dhul) or position of commerce (e.g. halem’bai – merchant)<br /><br />calem <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Militia or army<br /><br />calem’ur <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Warrior/soldier belonging to an organised force (such as a militia or army)<br /><br />Dhul <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />(No accurate translation) legendary being of shadow; the Void<br /><br />dul <span style="font-style: italic;">v.</span><br />Copula; links subject to object through meaning (e.g. id’Ubai-ul-Suluum dul ud’halem-suluum – the City of Light is a city-state)<br /><br />dum <span style="font-style: italic;">prefix</span><br />Indicates duality; quantity of two (e.g. dum’halem’bai – two merchants)<br /><br />halem <span style="font-style: italic;">root n.</span><br />Root form possessing no independent meaning; implies self-employment or freedom in conjunction with appropriate affix (e.g. halem’ur – mercenary)<br /><br />halem’bai <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Merchant or broker not associated with a specific lord, king or fiefdom; free trader<br /><br />halem’ur <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Warrior or soldier not associated with a specific lord, king or fiefdom; mercenary<br /><br />halem-suluum<span style="font-style: italic;"> n.</span><br />Settlement not associated with a specific country or region; a city-state (as with Ubai-ul-Suluum)<br /><br />id <span style="font-style: italic;">prefix</span><br />Specific determiner (e.g. id’calem – the army); does not reflect quantity (i.e. id'calem could also translate as ‘the armies’)<br /><br />il <span style="font-style: italic;">prep.</span><br />Indicates possession or relevance where subject precedes and object follows (e.g. San’bai-il-Dhul – servant of Dhul). Can be contracted (e.g. San’bai-Dhul). Note: ‘ul’ requires the reverse positions for subject/object (i.e. object precedes and subject follows); ‘ul’ cannot be contracted (i.e. San’bai-Dhul is permitted, Dhul-San’bai is not)<br /><br />san <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Being/creature traditionally opposed to the nature of Ubai (although not necessarily aligned with Dhul); implies daemon genus; often used incorrectly in place of ‘San’bai-il-Dhul’ (see ‘San’bai-il-Dhul <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span>’)<br /><br />San’bai-il-Dhul <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />Servant of Dhul commonly belonging to the san (daemon) genus (see ‘san <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span>’); can be contracted to San’bai-Dhul. Differs to noun ‘san’ as it is honorific and therefore does not imply genus (e.g. non-san aligned with Dhul may be accurately referred to as ‘San’bai-il-Dhul’)<br /><br />seraphim <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Being/creature traditionally aligned with Ubai’um; implies angel genus; inaccurately used in place of honorific title ‘Seraphim-il-Ubai’ (see ‘Seraphim-il-Ubai <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span>’)<br /><br />Seraphim-il-Ubai <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />Being/creature expressly belonging to higher ranks of Ubai-ul-Calem; contraction of Seraphim-il-Ubai-ul-Calem (angel of the army of Light), can be further contracted to ‘Seraphim-Ubai’. Members traditionally, though not necessarily, belong to seraphim (angel) genus<br /><br />suluum <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Town/city<br /><br />ubai <span style="font-style: italic;">n.</span><br />Dawn/day/light<br /><br />Ubai’um <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />Force of good; Light that is god<br /><br />Ubai-ul-Calem <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />Army of Light; consists of soldiers in service of Ubai’um (see ‘Ubai-ul-Calem’ur <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span>’)<br /><br />Ubai-ul-Calem’ur <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />Soldier of Light, in service of Ubai’um (see ‘Ubai-ul-Calem <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span>’). Differs to Seraphim-il-Ubai as Ubai-ul-Calem’ur makes no indication of rank<br /><br />Ubai-ul-Suluum <span style="font-style: italic;">proper n.</span><br />City of Light<br /><br />ud <span style="font-style: italic;">prefix</span><br />Non-specific determiner indicating singularity (e.g. ud’calem’ur – a solider or one soldier)<br /><br />ul <span style="font-style: italic;">prep.</span><br />See ‘il <span style="font-style: italic;">prep.</span>’<br /><br />um <span style="font-style: italic;">suffix</span><br />Indicates position of power; godhood (sometimes kinghood); omnipotence (e.g. Ubai’um – Light that is god)<br /><br />ur <span style="font-style: italic;">suffix</span><br />Indicates martial role or position (e.g. halem’ur – mercenary)<br /><br />Note: There is no distinction between singular and plural words. Quantity is identified through determiner (e.g. both merchant and merchants would read as halem’bai. ‘A’ or ‘one’ merchant and ‘two’ merchants would read as ud’halem’bai and dum’halem’bai respectively.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-65531786634688488422009-04-26T00:19:00.010+01:002009-04-26T02:02:47.688+01:00Now that I understand this rightA busy two months have passed. Moving is allegedly only second to divorce when it comes to stress. I can only imagine, especially as my move hardly constitutes as truly 'moving' - most of <a href="http://www.twitpic.com/31ouw">my worldly possessions</a> fit in eight boxes, lacking in real furniture, delicates and/or heirlooms. I don't plan to divorce any time soon.<br /><br />Between packing, relocating, unpacking (sorta), cleaning, tidying, and settling, I've found virtually no time to think about writing anything remotely creative... an ideal that is surely proving this blog to be a complete fallacy. Instead, I've read a magnificent total of one fantasy book, become obsessed with a major US television series, played several games on my PC (for many many hours), laughed/cried at the Detroit Pistons, and listened to lots of Nas. (Of course, I'm choosing to ignore the immense amounts of work I've partaken in.)<br /><br />The book was '<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Iron-Angel-Deepgate-Codex-Trilogy/dp/0330444778/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240704676&sr=8-2">Iron Angel</a>' by Alan Campbell. It's the sequel to his well-received debut, '<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Scar-Night-Deepgate-Codex-Trilogy/dp/033044476X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240704750&sr=8-1">Scar Night</a>', and the middle title in the Deepgate Codex trilogy. Scar Night was one of those novels I thought was genius until it began to lose its way somewhere during the climax; an unfortunate situation that happens all too much throughout myriad modern creative endeavours (the video game BioShock jumps to mind), and which always greatly depresses me. However, I'm happy to report that Iron Angel, whilst flawed, is an impressive comeback. Although it is overly burdened with 'middle book' syndrome - lacking any true resolution - and feels strangely disconnected from Scar Night, Campbell pulls no punches when expanding upon the excellent mythology hinted at in the previous title. I look forward to the concluding chapter, '<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/God-Clocks-Deepgate-Codex-Trilogy/dp/1405090375/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240704710&sr=1-1">God Of Clocks</a>'.<br /><br />Much more of my time was spent watching the re-imagined series of Battlestar Galactica, as I'd bought the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlestar-Galactica-Edward-James-Olmos/dp/B001CD9K9Q/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1240705084&sr=8-4">'complete' boxset</a> a while back - the inverted commas being indicative of the falsehood inherent in this claim. The set is in fact the first three seasons (along with the preceding miniseries) plus the first half of the fourth season. Of course, I was well aware of this deficiency before I invested, but cannot help feeling Universal is being unreasonably cheeky with its claim of 'Seasons 1-4'. C'est la vie.<br /><br />The 'show' itself has had me hooked for the past month. The first two seasons are gritty, exciting, and, to my surprise, emotionally exhausting. I loved almost ever minute; especially William Adama and Saul Tigh - defo my two favourite characters. However, the third season is very wobbly. It has its high points, such as a run of episodes shortly after the season's opening, but is generally messy and ridiculous. In particular, the finale blows. (Oh dear, this appears to be another candidate for total-climax-failure...) Thankfully, the final season feels a little stronger, yet this will have to await true judgement as <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Battlestar-Galactica-Final-Season-DVD/dp/B001Q3KA64/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1240706646&sr=8-1">the second half</a> will only be available come June. Fingers crossed.<br /><br />Okay, I did plan to share my thoughts on Arx Fatalis, Fallout 3 and Nas, but I'm starting to lose the will. And I didn't really want to talk about the Pistons anyways. I'm feeling far too upset about the season in general. Plus it appears the Hawks are about lose to Miami. Boo. So I'll save my remaining commentary for another day. Probably in about three months or so. In the meantime, Firefly awaits.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-53877608351444862772009-02-28T23:52:00.009+00:002009-03-12T20:01:04.439+00:00Elevate your soulToday was a pretty good day. I woke and decided that I would stay in bed, drink tea and read for an hour or so. This, supplemented with cold pizza, was a pleasant experience. By one o'clock I figured I should probably head into town, seeing as I'd promised a colleague I'd pick up a Postman Pat beanie toy for her one year old son. Sadly, Eric <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Snooks</span> no longer sells the Postman Pat beanie.<br /><br />When I was out last night with some friends, I heard an interesting morsel of news through the grapevine. It appears Philip Reeve may possibly be writing a prequel to the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/s?ie=UTF8&tag=firefox-uk-21&index=blended&link_code=qs&field-keywords=mortal%20engines&sourceid=Mozilla-search">Mortal Engines</a> quartet. I'm more than a little excited about this prospect. If you haven't read much Philip Reeve, I'd urge you to do so, he is very good (even <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Here-Lies-Arthur-Philip-Reeve/dp/140710358X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1235865628&sr=8-1">Here Lies Arthur</a>, which is an odd one for sure). Mortal Engines is one of those great ideas that seems unlikely to work - or even make sense - but is actually extraordinary. Massive cities on gigantic wheels hurling around the continents in a cat-and-mouse game, devouring moving towns who in turn consume villages, all in a desperate attempt to maintain functioning tech and economies. Sounds crazy, right? Good crazy.<br /><br />Other news is varied. I'm reading a fair bit, but quit recording my reading habits on my Windows Live Space. In fact, I'm attempting to close and clear out my Windows Live account entirely as I'm quite happy with my Google (i.e. Blogger) and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Facebook</span> setups. However, still showing MS love as I'm currently running Windows 7 (it's pretty swish - except for an annoying MP3 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">codec</span> issue with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">WMP</span>12). Guess I might continue using this blog to reflect on what I'm reading, playing, listening to, etc. It's sees very little use otherwise (*guilty <span style="font-style: italic;">ahem</span>*).<br /><br />I have actually been thinking about writing again, surprising even myself. However, I'm currently surrounded by a lot of creative types and their relative success stories (including five-digit book deals), which shamefully conjures the cynic in me. Strange, as I'd have thought that I'd be inspired. Evidently I'm lacking substantial <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>resolve. Huh.<br /><br />Oh, one last comment. I watched a film called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0446013/">Pathfinder</a> this evening. Avoid.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10064438717938840599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-14962551103661980432008-10-12T20:22:00.022+01:002010-08-22T22:23:29.350+01:00Dark in the afternoon<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Wow. October. Oops. Well, it's only eleven months I guess. Greater expanses of time have slipped by before.</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Anyways, during the last, um, year, I haven't really spent much time thinking about my little mirage/oasis of an idea. Thus I wrote nothing. However, last month a close friend of mine posted this:<br /></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://davidraymondgibbons.blogspot.com/2008/09/posterwall.html"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3112/2868055550_041d1a17ae_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">And, well, you'd kinda have to know more about it to fully understand why I got quite so excited, but you'll see it's a great image nonetheless. (He's an illustrator.) And excited I was, excited enough to write a very short set piece of a story.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The important thing to remember is that the characters (hell, and the world) aren't mine. I wasn't sure I'd portrayed Deathwatch Bastard and Johnny Omens true to David's vision. I'm still not. But I think it was an interesting exercise.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Oh, and it hasn't been edited. It's all 'first take'...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;">Plans</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">‘Ah shit.’</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Plan A hadn’t gone to plan. Neither had Plan B. Plan C… well, calling it a plan was a slight misnomer. It was more an instinct to run the hell away.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Gritting his teeth, Deathwatch Bastard looked to his right where his partner stood. With remarkable calm, Johnny was casually sizing up the wall blocking their escape route. Of course, Johnny always appeared remarkably calm. He was, after all, Johnny Omens.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span><div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Deathwatch span on his heels and turned to look down the alley they’d just run. Dragging a sleeve across his nose, he quickly dropped his backpack and shoved both hands into his pockets, fingers desperately searching.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">‘Ah hell.’ No smokes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">‘Drop them?’ Johnny’s voice, somehow simultaneously flat and melodic, was particularly irritating given their imminent predicament.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">‘How long you reckon till they sniff us out?’ growled Deathwatch, ignoring the question. ‘Reckon not long.’ He hated it when they had to revert to Plan C. Especially when Plan C led to a dead-end alley.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">‘Mmm, I’m sure,’ whispered Johnny. His right hand closed around the sheathed blade of his sword – always Omen’s weapon of choice – a movement that never suggested anything good was about to happen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Suddenly the dim twilight was breached by the intense flare of a flood light. Deathwatch squinted as he reached around his back and freed a grenade from its strap. Popping the pin, he kept the trigger closed and pushed the explosive into his trouser pocket. ‘Ain’t gonna see this coming.’</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Just beyond the shadow there sounded a throaty snarl, followed by several irregular figures shuffling toward them in the darkness. As the zombies closed in, Deathwatch Bastard nervously thumbed the explosive in his hand.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Then he grinned.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Time for Plan D.<br /><br /><a href="http://davidraymondgibbons.blogspot.com/">http://davidraymondgibbons.blogspot.com</a> (Click it!)<br /></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-15787367491658363762007-11-15T23:03:00.002+00:002010-07-30T22:34:02.942+01:00I know what the sun's all aboutDiscipline appears to be something you learn. I haven't written anything because I haven't the discipline to follow through my ideas. I can sit and daydream all day and still fail to capture a single wisp of fantasy on paper or disk. Those ideas will continue to rattle about at the risk of loss until I can summon the discipline to give them form on a page.<br /><br />But this can change - so I make a promise, in the hope of aiding the development of good discipline: my next post will include some new (with any luck, noteworthy) scribbles.<br /><br />We'll see.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-53116305440932070162007-10-05T02:00:00.003+01:002009-03-01T00:56:21.350+00:00Passive descensionI've read more books in the last ten days than I have in the past three months. It's good; it's brain food.<br /><br />I'm very into children's books right now - currently the Edge Chronicles, a series that is very in keeping with my notions of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fantasticism</span>, especially with regard to the age range (~9-12). It creates a place <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wholly</span> separate to our world and populates it accordingly - new flora, new fauna, different physical, chemical and biological laws. There are obviously strong similarities to our world and this new one, yet they are base; <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">banderbears</span> appear, at first, like brown bears, until we learn that they possess language skills (of a sort) such as yodelling, that they are herbivores, and that their fur is covered in a green moss. Even subtle social perceptions differ - for example, the slaughters spend all their lives hunting, killing and trading the flesh of beasts, yet they are arguably the most welcoming and kind-hearted people encountered during the course of the first book.<br /><br />Ideas like these, although simple in realisation, are what inspire me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-7246706043739226382007-09-14T01:27:00.001+01:002009-02-25T18:42:05.586+00:00Arranged in Feng ShuiAlthough I haven't written anything for a long time, I spend a lot of time daydreaming, which is especially true during the course of the last week. I often retreat to within my imagination where I'm slowly putting together ideas that are beginning to interlock. The ideas don't tend to be heavily narrative-driven, rather set-pieces or scenes, crystallising detail in a landscape on an imaginary canvas. Eventually I'd like to tell a series of tales, as opposed to a singular arc or epic, maybe in the form of memoirs provided by a central character. Perhaps one day everything'll come into focus.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8161682336676305266.post-64622337719226999932007-09-05T23:50:00.004+01:002011-04-22T22:03:42.878+01:00Twenty-five dollars and pieces of silver<span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"><span>A few days ago, maybe even yesterday, it was suggested to me that I should try writing poetry. Poetry isn't really my thing, but the advice remained a presence in my mind, and I thought maybe I should make something of it.<br /><br />This short piece was originally written almost five years ago, and was somewhat longer back then - I think about twice the word count. I've trimmed the fat and rearranged some elements. I'm not great at writing, so getting things down is an achievement.<br /><br />Lotsa ideas, insufficient grasp of the language I guess...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Respite</span></span><br /><br />Droplets formed and fell from an overhanging leaf, hitting the moist grass and adding sharp <span>pitter-patterings</span> to a choir of sounds: distant rain, buzzing insects, foraging fauna. The old man sighed and pulled back on his pipe. He felt his eyelids grow heavy under the serenity of the canopy, a calming peace causing him to nestle closer between ancient tree roots.<br /><br />Tugging at the rim of his pointed travelling hat, he felt his ears prick at distant thunder. He looked up with bleary eyes. The woodland itself was a paradise. Rich greenery shadowed with shades of subtle brown, verdant vines on branch and trunk alike. Massive plants with leaves over a foot long and dripping rain water. Huge toadstools of swaggering magnificence sporting brilliant white stems and enticingly soft flesh. Small extended grasses bearing tiny buds that reached out and over the rest of their brethren as if stretching for Heaven itself.<br /><br />Puffing out a thick and wispy cloud of smoke, the old man shuffled a little to encourage blood circulation. The coarse woollen travelling garb he wore hung close and kept his frail body warm, warding off the cool, wet rainforest air. He smiled, a slow movement that divided the long white beard around his mouth, his elderly lips parting slightly.<br /><br />Soon his lids grew onerous once more, finally settling on a blue butterfly. Its fluttering, seemingly slow and haphazard, danced before his unfocused vision. He watched it as it flapped and flurried, fought air and droplets, struggling against the breeze in an attempt to breach the chasm from one flower to another. The wizened old man smiled again, sucking his cheeks in as he placed the pipe between his teeth. He was no different.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0