Thursday, January 31, 2008

Fiction work # 4

Everyday this man comes to the coffee shop where I wait for him. I used to be mad at him. Furious with his stupidity, for not figuring it out, for putting me in this situation. It gave way, gradually, to something else. What are those five stages again? Oh well.
The only thing in this gaping room is me, the wadded newspaper discarded in the corner by the window. Everything is frozen until he arrives. Then, a carnival! Strobed colors, chimes, heat flows into me through my blood, my breath whooshing through my nostrils like turbines. How alive he makes me!

I sometimes look at other men. I cannot help it, I suppose, I get so bored. They mean nothing, though, when he appears. How could they?

I spoke with a priest once. Hoping to be absolved. With the stained glass drifting like pale feathers kissing his features, he washed his hands of me. Said only God could judge me now. Said I would find Him in my heart. I prayed he was right, then left the house of worship, where I long to be, but dare not profane with my confusion. Jesus wept in the Garden of Gethsemane; that is why I keep him in my troubled heart. He knows me, still loves me.

I would say I am angry, but it has drained out of me so long ago. I keep it in a bottle in the corner, along with other necessities. Sometimes I hear it, yelling at that stupid fedora he wears, that I swear I know better then my own knees, telling him to "Go Away!" because anything is better than letting me do it. But he doesn't. Every day is the same. So I wait for the sign. The sign that he is giving up. Giving up his home. Is throwing fortune to the wind. I long for it, and dread it. I know it is coming.

What a man he is! To inspire this dichotomy. He seems powerful, yet stocky. A bushy, but trim mustache, keen eyes. My favorite part of him is his hands. Meticulously covered in soft brown leather that matches his briefcase, he must condition them nightly.

What will I do when he is gone? My mind is drawn to the macabre question as surely as a cart on tracks. To combat the problem, I like to imagine drapes on the window I lay by. It is currently bare, in keeping with the austerity of the room, which was chosen for it's function, not it's form.

Every inch of my body screams for this to be over, but my heart and my soul wish it could go on forever.

Maybe some nice pink ones. I could sew them myself. I wonder if he'll like them? I wonder if he'll notice.

Before he arrives, I work-out. The sweat, the pain in my muscles, is honest. Pure truth in lactic acid. I start with push-ups, moving to handstand push-ups. There is a bar set up for chin-ups, and I like to do crunches. This tiny zen workout seems to be the only thing between myself and sheer madness.

On a cold day, I touched my tongue to the metal. Some of it stuck, peeling off of me. Now this tiny cylinder with myself on it is a symbol. An apology of sorts. A sign of respect, an acknowledgment. "I know you. I love you. I am sorry." I hope it is enough. For both of us. Our absolution. I have loaded my symbol and now I wait for the sign to put a piece of me through his head.

My name is Sergeant Gunnery Hart. I have been assigned to kill this man when he defects. God Preserve us Both.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Tall Ships

I've trimmed my nails. Right down to the quick. I can't use them to grip anymore. They still catch, however, and the catching sets my teeth on edge.
On edge. How appropriate the phrase. Waiting. Poised. A death-defying balancing act, since I got on this huge wooden metaphor. This boat. To a new world.
I imagine it full of of clever men and women; Salons full of the revolutionary elite. People dashing about in the streets, crying on the corners, "World class inventions! Come see history in the making!"
Perhaps there will even be a girlfriend waiting for me! A bosom friend who will laugh with me and share tales! I shall plait her long, red hair and she will sing harmony. And talk about Romance! Oh, How I wish!

As soon as I was settled on the boat I thoroughly scanned the sailors, but there were all dirty, rough-hewn old men. Where is the doe-eyed rogue who is destined to steal my heart away? Some people. I have given up looking and instead torment the only passanger of interest. A boy who is travelling with his family. He is only a few months younger then me, but he is so dull! A slow-witted farm boy.

Speaking of dull. Sometimes I am terrified that I will die on this ship and never be allowed to leave! I will be forced to haunt it! Forever!! The creaking shall drive me mad!!! Every night! Every day! the rocking, creaking, tossing, spray noise! There is salt everywhere. What a pain! I thought, when I first envisioned my Grand Journey, that I would take daily, placid, walks around the pristine deck, admired by the dozens of attractive sailors, resplendant in my perfect, but breezy, frocks. My placid walks have become simple, once-round, neccessities, punctuated by mild seasickness. I wear only my most austere garb, and am rarely admired, but instead, leered at by the few lucky enough to have a brief moment. I'd never imagined a sailor's life so busy!
In juxtapose, mine is so empty. I while away the hours imagining my future husband. He will likely be at the port when we make land. I'm excited to meet him! I hope he is muscular and handsome! I should also like him to be tender and affectionate, however. What will I do if he is some kind of brute?

Speaking of brutes, my dinners with the captain have taken an astonishing turn. At the beginning he was very formal, always standing on ceremony, but lately he has regailed me with boistrous tales of far away lands. this man tells me of the exotic people he's met, the things he's done; some that polite people would faint upon hearing! He completely disgusts and repulses me, but I find myself drawn to it.
I don't want to tell anyone, but he's been filling my head with strange notions. He tells me that my arranged marriage should be my choice as well! That I am not my husband's property! He even tells me that I should have the right to study and learn anything I want! Even wear pants! I'm not sure what to think of it. Everything I am dictates that I plug my ears (delicately of course) and ignore his sinful suggestions, but I find an ember of defiance in my breast. It is small yet, but if fanned by the flames of his stories, and encouragement...who knows? I suppose just the fact that I write this is proof enough of his influence. Mother said I should not write, that it would over-exhaust me unduly and any heirs I produce would be sickly. I am terrified to think of stepping off this little path that has been neatly laid for me, but I ... want to. I do not know, yet, if there are great things in me, in truth, I don't think so. I am not so astounding that I would produce anything marvelous, but there is desire, in me, to carve out a little piece of the world for my own. To plant my flag and howl triumphantly.
I suppose time will tell what the world has in store for me...

Saturday, January 26, 2008

The terrible calamity of Ms. Whimbledon; Abridged for brevity

January 24th
Dear Diary;
Today I had the most odd experience. I was stepping off the coach, just about to alight on my doorstep when I noticed a man staring at me. He was of rather low birth in a faded vest, scruffy pants, ill-shone shoes, and a tweed monstrosity I could only surmise to be a hat perched on his head.
He stared so intently I was sure he was a chimney-sweep or other such servant, but when I paid him a shilling for his service, he didn't say anything. He only clutched it in his huge hands, until his knuckles went white. The sun was out, so I moved inside to avoid exposure, but when I looked out he was still there. He stayed there all evening.

January 25th
The man was still there when I began morning prayers, so I sent the butler to run him off. When I left for the usual ladies night together, he had the gall to wink at me! I was so surprised, I went back inside the house! Who knows what that wink had planned?

January 27th
He thinks I can't see him, but I can. He's out there by the lavender gate. He peeps at me while I sew. I'm sure he's thinking something filthy. His eyes are so low and sunk-in. I've phoned the police to escort him away.

January 30th
What good are the police if they can't keep one man in jail? He's back, hiding in the Rhodedendrons. Squatting obscenely! The cheek! The absolute nerve! I can't concentrate anymore! I feel like I need to know where he is at all times!

Febuary 1st
The police insist they have him in custody. What do they know? He's right outside. I can feel him. I haven't changed in two days. He watches me. The maid tried to make me change. I've dismissed her. How could I trust her now? I'm sure she works with him. I fear she has let him in. Curse her treachery! She wanted me dead! I saw her hands linger over the silverware! She lingers no more!

Febuary 5th
I've boarded the doors and windows. The butler refused to help. He says he saw the police execute the man for murder yesterday. He's mad. I've dispatched him. I found some ash. I've covered myself in it! Let him see through that! They tried to make me go to Bedlam, but I said, "No! No! No!".

Febuary 6th
He's in. The house. The police are powerless. The government is in cahoots with the vagrant! Only I and Mr. Poker can fight back. His gangly limbs hold me. We are barricaded in the laundry room, but He knows. I can smell him. The foul desultory smell of satan! We tunnel to the food pantry, as we must have food to do God's work, but it is arduous.

Febuary 7th
Mr. Poker had abandoned me! He dove through the tiny hole into the pantry and now he is gone. I have taken the only course left to me; If I must parish, that bastard will burn with me!

Febuary 10th
How nice; I've never been to Germany. Today, as I was contemplating how to best rebuild my life, I saw a beautiful man walk past. I trotted after him, feeling compelled to stay close to him no matter what. As I stood outside his house, he came over and gave me a sixpence. When he did, I felt a huge weight lift off me. I think I'll sleep outside his house for just a little while.

This one's for you Mom

She was featured on Blogger's Blogs-of-note, and reading through her site is really soothing.
Not only is she gluten free but she links to an absolute butt-load of other gluten-free sites.

Thought you might find it interesting. : )

Trolling the internet with love for my family.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Interview fiction number 1

[Beginning of recording]
Subject #5398
Regarding: Occurance on January 23, 2008 in Vermont

Interviewer: Please state your name for the record.
Subject: Oh, uh, Vanessa. Vanessa Jones. My momma called me that cause, uh, she liked it.
I: Thank you. Can you describe what happened the night of January twenty third?
S: Sure. Well, it's like I told the constable, I get up every morning around five to check on the cows 'cause that's when they get up too, so by nine, I'm tired, but I was wide awake then, so I was out on my best horse, her name's Pennyforth Bedelia's Best Amsforth the fifth, but we call her Gedova 'cause it don't matter what it is she, [Laugh] she'll "ged ova" it. Get it?
I: Understood. Please continue.
S: So I was out ridin' and I saw some lights on the stable roof which really ain't good cause it scares the horses and then they run but they can't run nowheres, so then you get a meatgrinder kinda thing and you can lose $600 on a prize thoroughbred for a scar 'cause it ruins the line of the horse, you know? so I was going over to check
[sound of door opening]
Visitor: Sir? There's a call for you on line one.
I: Not now.
V: Understood. Sorry sir.
[door closes]
S: You can take the call, I don't mind. I got Donna to feed the horses n' stuff so...
I: It's fine. You are our top priority right now.
S: Oh! Well, Thank you very much. I've never been a priority before.
I: A shame. Please, continue.
S: Anyway, I go into the barn with my shotgun ready
I: I'm sorry. Why did you initially bring your shotgun?
S: Oh, no. Mine's in the house. I keep an extra in the barn. When you got $500,000 in, uh, "moveable assets", if you don't have a gun you got $500,000 in, uh, "nothing". So. There you go.
I: A prudent move.
S: Is it?
I: I believe so. Please, continue.
S: So anyway, when I got in there, the horses weren't moving, just starin' at a person at the end of the barn, where I got the horse insem'nator? That's the thing where you fill it with [Portion deleted]
I: Uh, We'll attach a diagram.
S: You okay? You're all pink.
I: Thank you. I'm fine. Please, uh, continue. Maybe with more detail about the figure?
S: Yah, sure. So he was starin' at my newest, Marybell's Triumph. She was in stall 70, right here. [Paper shuffling]
I: Please refer to diagram two "Blueprint of barn", stall 70.
S: We just did.
I: No, I mean for the listener.
S: Oh.
I: Please?
S: Right, so I asked who it was 'cause last week we gotta little boy here, wanted to ride a horse, so he snuck right outta bed and walked here from town, but I didn't want to scare no kid, so, you know.
I: What did the figure do?
S: He, well, It, I guess, turned and howled at me! Like, Like a wolf howl, but worse! I never been so scared in my life! I seen a momma bear up close and it weren't near as bad! I was so terrified, I thought I'd die and...
I:That accounts for, uh, substance b found at the scene?
I: Let the record show the subject nodded affirmation. ... It was at this time that Marybell's Triumph was killed?
S: Yah, and I, uh, I don't know why it... [sniffling]
I: We can take a break. We don't have to rush. Would you like some coffee?
[silence- 10 seconds]
I: You don't have to do this now we can...
S: What? No, uh, no. I'm okay.
I: Well, we'll take a break. Shutting off recording.
I: Resuming interview after 15 minute break. Alright. How did you respond to the figure's actions?
S: I shot it.
I: You shot...could you be more specific?
S: I shot it. In the face.
I: Accounting for injury C. Did this have any effect?
S: Yah. It jumped at me, with it's claws. And did this. [Cloth rustling]
I: Subject is gesturing to injuries 12 through 17.
S: 12? No, it didn't
I: You have some old injuries we observed: a compound fracture, a few puncture wounds...
S: Oh. I see. Heh. I remember that tree.
I: You used to climb [Portion deleted]
S: [Laughing]
I: Yeah, right. Sorry. Hehe.Uh, how did you respond to the attack?
S: [Laughs]I gave it [Paper shuffling]injuries d through q.
I: Ah. The report is unspecific as to what weapon you used.
S: Oh, well, I was so mad, I couldn't reload so I just hit it. Uh, with my hands. Well, my fists.
[pause 45 seconds]
I: I've seen the injury photographs. You are a remarkable woman, Vanessa.
S: Thank you, Mister...?
I: Call me Brian.
S: Thanks, Brian.
I: Um [coughs] So, after that?
S: Oh, that's the weird bit! I blacked out and woke up by the fifth mile marker! Next to that poor man! Is he okay? Your men were helping him but wow, he was wreck! All covered in blood! and he was, we were...but we didn't...I mean...I don't really remember, but I don't think...
I: There is no evidence to suggest conjugal relations. So, you did not know the man?
S: No, I don't, well, didn't. So, he's dead?
I: He died from multiple injuries caused by a blunt object. Exacerbated by a shotgun wound. To the face.
S: He...But, I didn't...Oh no. No. I didn't kill him. The thing in the barn couldn't have been a man! It was crazy! The claws! Didn't you look at his hands?
I: We are still looking into possible explanations.
S: Have you thought it could be a...
I: A what?
S: Well, it's silly, but my daddy used to tell me an old indian legend about the Wendigo. I mean, it's just a child's tale, but after that night, well...
I: Have you signed the confidentiality agreement? Are you aware that there may be Fatal reprecussions for discussing anything you are told here?
S: Yah, of course, but I didn't think they were serious...
I: I'm afraid so. We belive that we are dealing, indeed, with a Wendigo, as you mentioned. We are unaware how to combat the problem.
S: The problem? But I ...oh...
[Silence- 35 seconds]
I: You may no longer contact anyone you know. You must give up your farm, although you may transfer the horses to a new location, provided no one you know can track them. You must remain with an agent at all times until you have remained in the service for two years. You will be employed with us. You will be given a badge and gun. You will be taught all you need to know. You will be provided with everything you need, but your life will essentially belong to the force. Sign here please.
[Pause of 2 minutes, including paper shuffling.]
I: Welcome to the force.
S: [heavy breathing]
I: Vanessa, it's not as bad as it seems. I promise.
S: I can keep the horses?
I: It will need to be an exclusive ranch, hidden from the public, and you will need to sell them under a pseudonem, and fire your ranch hands
S: hand. Only ever had the one.
I: Right. but other then that, you can run it how you like, assuming it doesn't interfere with your duties.
S: Which are?
I: You'll receive a full briefing after lunch.
S: Ah.
[Silence- 7 minutes]
I: You are smiling?
S: This is [laughs] kinda cool. I'm mean, I've always wanted an adventure.
I: You are really remarkable.
S: [laughs] Thanks, Brian.
I: I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to
[end of tape]

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Tao day at work

"Allow Tao to carve you into a vessel for Tao. Then you can serve the world without mutilating it." Upon reading this, I looked at my hands, so soft and pink. How could they serve anything?
By remaining open.
"Do by not doing. Act with inaction."
It is through silence that we may speak the loudest. By stillness we may find our way.
"What has equilibium is easy to maintain."
Favor neither one extreme nor the other. Strive for Harmony in all things.
"Heaven's secret is motherly love."
It takes effort to hate. Abandon such foolish notions.
"A good employer puts himself below his employees."
It is in humility that we may benefit.
"The sage isn't sick. He is sick of his sickness. Therefore he is not sick."
Releasing all pretenses, expectations, and fears leads to Tao.
"Because she contends with no one, no one can contend with her."
Do not play petty games. They mean nothing.
"When people find one thing beautiful, another consequently becomes ugly."
In acceptance of all things, there is freedom from judgement.
"Allow order to arise of itself."
Everything turns out alright in the end. You must trust.

"Too much talk about it evaporates your understanding, though. You must stay at the center of the circle."

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

M.M.B.B. (or Miles and Miles of Bloody Blog)

So now whenever I enter Chapters, all the Terrys are sold out. With this in mind it is only a period of time before Hollywood catches the scent and the machine reconfigures itself to crank out some Discworld (new and improved!). I have to get in on this. The main problem being creating a solid plan to break into the biz. I found Drama class to be like, to borrow a phrase, "breathing glue"; I.e. Way too hard when you know there's a simpler way.
My plan so far is to just show up to a few auditions. This leads to the second problem.
There aren't a lot of roles in the Discworld series I'd be suited for. Since I'm an attention madame (Like a whore, but better at it.), I'd need a fairly main piece. My physical appearance is a limitation (so many damn blondes) but well, you know the saying; "If it sucks, throw CGI at it."
Thus my options:

Susan Sto Helit
-Awesome costumes
-Badass Character

-That hair would keep me in makeup round the clock
-Scar makeup
-delivering lines to a CGI skeleton 90% of the time

Agatha X Nitt
-Good hair
-Arguably most awesome plot
-Chance to sing
-work alongside Greebo's Human form (Mee-yow!)

-Fat suit
-Greebo likely to be Antonio Bandaras

Delphin Angua Von Uberwald
-Cool unifrom
-likely to be made into action figure
-two words: Carrot Ironfoundersson

-Dog CGI not sexy
-Uberstrong first character = likely to be typecast (Pro or con?)

Maladict/a (something long)
-So badass it hurts
-Already have coffee addiction
-Awesome teeth

-threat from Veteran's from "overly realistic flashback portrayal"
-Known in Hollywood as a boy
-unconscious for most of climax

Lady Sybil vimes nee Ramkins
-Jolly fun with swords and attacking people
-Work with Vimes & call Vetinari, "Havelock"

-Again, fat suit
-No hair
-Almost eaten by Dragon AND Werewolves

Cheri Littlebottom
-Cultural Revolutionary
-High-heeled combat boots
-CSI in olde times

-Itchy beard
-CGI to look hobbity

Queen of the Elves
-Fabulous slinky wardrobe
-Permanently summer scenes

-Lose 60 lbs (skinny B!^@#)
-Lose in the end
-fight crazed axe-wielding bride

I have a few ideas on wellknown actors that could portray other characters:
Samuel Vimes - Hugh Laurie - looks the part and can ACT
Magrat Garlick - Joan Cusack - Seen School of Rock? Straightlaced to wacked. Yes!
Lord Havelock Vetinari - Alan Rickman - Looks good in a chinstrap and in harem pants
Nobby Nobbs - Robin Williams - Hairy enough to be mistaken for a werewolf

On a finishing note Heath Ledger was found dead in an apartment yesterday. This means two things:
1. Batman movie terror level up to orange
2. Brokeback mountain now 50% more accurate

Well, I'd love to stay but some of us have carpets to glue.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008


So I had my first solo (without a trainer) day at the Police division I volunteer at. Determined not to do anything stupid, I made myself somewhat obnoxious by second guessing myself constantly. I filled several collision reports, and mostly just puttered around. The constables were all very helpful and keen to assist me in whatever.
Now enter my big mouth.
One of the constables brought an energy sports type powder. He insists it's "crazy-good", going so far as to show that you should not shake the mixture, since it may lead to "dire consequences". I, in a show of brilliance, dismissed it all as a placebo effect. The constable bridled (in mock indignation) saying I wouldn't be saying that if I had tried it. Thus the inevitable occured. It was green, frothy and tasted like pixie sticks in coke. I think I might pick up a batch. It certainly carried out the promise of helping me with my energy. I felt like I could chew through a desk.
I have earned the title of "most hard-core volunteer". This makes me strangely pleased.

I also submit for your enjoyment, some of the random thoughts that floated through my sleepy brain during my patrol, after I had crashed off the powder.

Imagine Robin Williams. Now imagine him as a kid. Put him in a classroom. Have his teacher call him, "Robin". Weird, isn't it? Now put him in the DMV and have someone call him, "Mr. Williams". That's pretty weird too, isn't it? There are just some celebrities that you must know them by their full name. If you say, "Ah-nold", everyone knows who you are talking about, but to call Anthony Hopkins, "Anthony", feels a little racy, doesn't it?

If they can make Shrek look this realistic, why do those screen-saver fish still look like pieces of food left-over after I've washed the dishes?

Have you ever bitten into some chocolate that you thought was solid, but found something gooey, and had to desperatly hope that it was something disgusting? What if it was something gross? Would you spit it out? That's a terrible feeling, isn't it? It's like winning the lottery for the grand prize of a phone bill.

I hate tires. I really do. No matter where you go, at least four big points of contact are on the ground at all times. I think it's time for another paradigm shift. I'm hoping for ponies again.

Lots of Love

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Blob blog blot

If you've ever really wanted to see how I see myself, like through my own eyes, they've made a webcomic about it!

*Warning: I will not be held accountable for any medical or psychological traumas resulting from clicking the above link. Or for not clicking. Or for anything. At all. Ever. WEE! Plausible denyability = my nail gun toy is ready for use!*

There you go. My post for today. and there's NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!

P.s. Love you family!

Friday, January 18, 2008

Primative day at Work

The loss of light heralds that I must offer another measure of dried beans to whatever God would take my soul and save my skin. The hunt begins anew.

The tribal elders tell of a Goddess given to us; Pax Mundus. She is playful, however, and would not stay confined in the mortal guise we had pinned her in. She flees from us, laughing, and we, her true warriors, of the order of Law, are charged with her search and capture. She is elusive, and demands that we must work to have her. Must be worthy of her.

Armed only with our ritual clothing, we track signs of her, and others, such as would seek to harm her. The clothing, through the magic of Psykoloji, protects us from the spirits and demons that are rife through our domain. We are like animals to them. They are like ghosts to us; Both equally unfathomable, and unquestionable.

I prepare scribs and scrolls at the onset of the night, hoping to protect myself and others should anything...occur. We are trained well, but sometimes all that stands for us is sheer luck. I have a pain in my stomach, like a gazelle threatening to kick through. I'm sure it means a bad omen. I spend some time meditating this unfavorable event.

Soon, however, it is time for me to go on the hunt. I start at the plains. Their serenity soothes me. Perhaps my stomach is nothing? I move to the watering hole, where we usually commune, now it stands empty.

I must listen to the chanting of the ancients today, they are howling strangely. I must interprete what this means. My guts tense. In order to properly understand, I must consult the wall markings. We are unsure where they come from, but they have shown us things we could know not. No mortal could know of. These are powerful majiks, but I must, to continue the fight.

People talk lately of a huge white bird that has engulfed our lands. I must hunt for it and kill it, but it may take months of preperation. Spiritual journeys, better weaponry, and more training. It is making my men jumpy however. We dislike things we cannot tame.

My muscles clench, sore from the last exhertion (but I was so close to her!). I take a strange sort of glee from this; A badge, a marking, a distinction within the tribe. I am marked as one of the elite. The chief knows as such. He is away, on a hunt in foreign lands, but will return. Hopefully with news. We have not had a campfire ceremony in a long while; That shows not well. The scholar I converse with, from a neighbouring tribe called Zhong, reassures me. I trust his council.

Yet, and yet, I feel wearied. Tired, like, I've been on a long scavenge, for sad scraps. This can be thankless work. And sometimes, I feel lost. Without civil human contact. Sometimes all I encounter are savages and monkeys.

Still, I am proud. Of who I am, and where I have come from. I cannot help but wonder where I am going though? I have heard talk of a huge tribe, with spells I can only dream of. I am thinking of applying for their ranks, but I am afraid. How strange that I would take on a 6 legged wildebeast with razor claws, but be afraid to put myself forward. I have also heard of a roaming nomadic tribe, all in blood red. I would hesistate to leave my homeland, but they, too, attract me. I suppose it matters not what tribal markings I wear. No matter where I go; I am a warrior.

(I really wish there was a way to use this joke in the blog, but there really isn't, so here it is;
"I know a man so tough he fights with rockets!"
"That's not so tough. Anyone can use a rocket launcher."
"No no no. He throws them!")Commence with the fun now! Read Pug Davis. So good.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Famous Song Titles Day at work

"Let's get it started" - Black eyed peas
"Confessions" - Usher
"Tubthumping" -Chumbawhumba
"Time is on my side" -Rolling Stones
"I'm on my way" -Cat Stevens
"These boots were made for walking" -Nancy Sinatra
"Thinkin' about you" -Norah Jones
"Blue Collar Hollar" -Stan Rogers
"Ah, Jus' push it" -Salt 'n' Pepa
"On top of Spaghetti" -Boy Scouts
"Winter" - Vivaldi
"Silent Sea"- KT Tunstall
"Sittin' on the dock of the bay"- Otis Redding
"Get out" -Jojo
"King of the Road" -the Proclaimers
"Bed" -J. Holiday

On an unrelated note here is the comic for today:

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

War day at work

*Censor's warning; This post may contain explicit language. Reader discretion is advised*

We addressed the enemy after only an hour of being on the battlefield. They launched a surprise attack that killed several in the platoon. Morale is low. It is uncertain whether the enemy has taken any damage at all, despite heavy offensive.

We lunched the troops on Spaghetti and Star Trek. Morale improves.

Needless to say the situation with the enemy has advanced to a point that my platoon is incapable of dealing with it. I have been required to call in my reserve unit, but I am unsure if we can hold our position until they arrive. We are low on ammunition, low on morale, and do not have the advantage of simply berserking. I am unsure when things reached this critical point, but it must have happened suddenly.

Our diplomats and peacetalks (our main offensive) have all been returned bloodied, tortured, and beheaded. It is apparant that we have no recourse in speech. I, myself, have taken some wounds with my legs and pride severely damaged. They attack out of nowhere, with surprising savagery. Our intellegence is useless, all previous reports have been discarded.

If this continues, we may have to cecede the territory. This is less then optimal, given it involves abandoning the reserve unit, but perhaps drastic action must be taken.

I can feel my will to fight draining, but the time for confrontation is almost over. I should return my forces to rebuild war-torn areas, and help calm civil strife.
We do not have the resources to maintain a long-term siege, but we lack the firepower, due to the geneva convention, to wage an all out attack.
Holding for reinforcements.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Brevity: comprehension

Anticipation; Arrival
Preperation; Sojourn
Tension; Ceremony
Meditation; Solitude
Exchange; Embarkment
Crisis; Averted
Dusk; Bamboo
Strategizing; Idleness
Frustration; Inadequacy
Reflection; Tao
Citrus; Silt
Haste; Completion
Filing; Snack
Nourishment; Glee
Rebegin; Ozone
Reunion; Resignment
Escourt; Exhaust
Greet; Brief
Abandon; Exhale

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Cooking day at work

Take one leg of lamb, marinate until reasonably mature. Be sure to tenderize just enough to make it crsipy on the outside, but somewhat soft inside.
Stud liberally with nuts, and spice slightly.
Slow cook in pot on low heat, stirring occasionally.

Take pile of various other wholesome ingredients and mix in seperate pot. Put in fridge.

These may be done in advance, to save time. On the day of cooking;

In a large mixing bowl, mix one batch of chopped onions, a cup of radishes, and a half a cup of lemon juice. Dump concoction into pot on stove with lamb.

Slow simmer in a coffee base, while alternating leg of lamb between bitter onion mixture, and wholesome ingredients. While in wholesome ingredients, mix in a package of crackers, liberally crushed under multiple people's shoes.

Blanche leg of lamb in onion mixture, then suddenly scorch mixture under high heat, stirring periodically. Take care that the lamb and onion mixture DO NOT MIX PROPERLY. Continue to alternate between onion mixture and fridge. If the leg of lamb curdles, you must discard it, and try a new recipie.
After 8 hours, remove the leg of lamb, and mix it in with some warm chinese food, or marinate in alcohol. Any leftovers may be frozen to good effect.

The key to success with this recipie is to start with a good leg of lamb, and allowing it to cool fully wile in the fridge.

Happy Cooking

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Seuss Day at work

I was starting my day,
Just beginning my shift,
when I noticed my mind
was attempting to drift.
I forceably brought it
back down to the present,
but in it, my heart,
rather clearly, just wasn't.

Guarding my who-ville
from threats large and small
was a task that required
my brain and my all.
Thus, I set up a game
requirin' me to think;
Was rewarded by feeling
my anxieties shrink.

I'm off checking the team rooms,
cubicles, bathrooms and halls
while leaving my partner
at the desk fording calls.

We excel at maintaining
all serene and secure.
Site access problems?
We diagnose and then cure.
I also check boilers,
the heavy machinery too,
though if it broke down,
what the heck could I do?

In the stale boiler room,
feeling light hearted.
I happened to wonder,
had someone just farted?
I've quite often noticed,
as on foot I've patrolled
that the mechanical rooms
smell rather musty and old.

Damn. No more cake.
Someone took it away.
How can they expect me
to get through my day?
I guzzle my coffee,
It's flavor's improvin'
but my doc and my tummy
are sharply reprovin'.

Someone left notes comparin'
happiness to a hat.
That it's hollow and empty?
I don't think they meant THAT.
The people that work here
are funny and kind.
Leaving jokes and small toys,
even puzzles, I find.

My cell phone is dying,
the battery's toast.
Of the energy left,
I must make the most.

The packet of crackers'
still left on the stairs.
Doesn't the perp know
That this mess is theirs?

Lunch is still soup.
It makes my brain suck.
Few more lunches like this,
and I won't give a crap.
Okay, so my rhymes
are often quite dirty,
but trust my IQ
is one hundred and thirty

No nachoes today,
'cause I've run out of loonies
I could loan myself out,
"Watch your back for 2 toonies."

When I get home late,
my house is so freezin'
get out of bed later?
need one heck of a reason!

So I give you my efforts
be they awesome or poor
In the vague little hopes
that my blog, you'll adore.
But if anyone else
wants to try this as well;
please bear in mind,
I'm a Seuss-er, Profession'l.

Space Day 2

Begin routine download of nutritional substances: Duration of One hour.

##My usual horrible soup is tempered by my favorite program; an old historical documentary called "Star Trek". I fondly recall seeing some of the actual equipment they used in the museum on a class trip when I was a larva.##

Continuing inspection of ship through podatric means: Remainder uneventful.

##I guess that's it for this cycle. Most crew are coming out of cryo now, and we're warming up for a heavy day of flying.##

End report. Please Repost to Series Delta569.
##Can get awful lonely here in the black. -Kaywinnet Lee##

Space Day at work

Security Supervisor's log stardate: 080110
Id badge: 528197
Notes supplied by previous crew: Possible alien invasion suspected.

##I'm not really worried about this development. This girl could fly herself, and us, home.##

Checked computor diagnostics: Running well.
Relieved command of helm to Robot second. Proceeding to podatric duty, including external ports. Southern ports airtight.

##It's cold outside, but beautiful##

Disposal units, Recycling system, and Living quarters: Top notch

##Just a few of the items on my laundry list to keep this bird afloat. It's mostly blinking lights and wires though, too advanced for me to understand anymore. You could call me an electrical janitor, I guess.##

Proceeding to western wing.

##Sometimes I get too poetic about my job, but when you're stuck between a howling engine powering a system as big as a globe, and the vast silent terribleness of space, you think some. S'pose that's why I took this job way out here.##

Life Support units 1-4: Fine.

##I try not to think too much though. There are so many secluded storage units here. Too tempting to sit and just think. We had a guy last lunar cycle lose himself in the hologram room. Work is key to avoid existential crisis, which could easily prove fatal. My comm unit keeps buzzing at me, but I've got more pressing considerations##

Notify Maintenance and Engineering: North ports showing signs of stress.

##A friend of mine has left his projection system running while he's gone to stasis. Further inspection of the area reveals someone else has resurrected the lost art of Bay-King, and has given us a Caik. A singular treasure. I just hope my enzymes can process it.##

Transporter 3: Operational

##I'm always a little worried that one of these things will malfunction and little bits of me will get mixed with other little bits. I hear tell that people way back on earth used to work by the constant light of a sun. I wonder what that would be like, rather then working by the shine of all the chorme here?##

4100 systems: go

##Someone has spilled a carbohydrate packet on the manual access to deck two. Damn. I like that flavor.##

Check in with mothership: Automated positive response.
Male Gender identifying entities waste disposal and Bacterial removal unit: smells.
Excess data packets: Reassigned to quarters.

##Some of the previously beautiful alien fauna we've brought onboard has perished. The "godliness" technician is in at an unusual cycle. He's a member of the bipedal species called "humans", and my mouth cannot replicate his speech, but we nod to each other. A universal sign of solidarity in blank space. I'm lost again, out deck 3's transparency screen. All those tiny points of light. I guess I'll join them soon. I can feel it.##

Deck three's IDF room: Secure.

##I check out the new design specifics on some prototype mechs being displayed on someone's desk. Pretty good.##

Returning to helm to relieve second-in-command for scheduled maintenance.

##After ordering some auditory stimulation, I request some Nachos(tm) from the replicator machine. I still thank them back. Old habits die hard, I guess.##

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Noir Day part 3

Lunch was soup that looked like whale blubber. I wished for the millionth time that the kitchen was open this late, but it was locked up tight, like everything else in this place.

A tinny program filtered through the air as I supplimented my soup lunch with Nacho chips. My doctor had drawn attention to my inappropriate diet; I had drawn attention to the fact that my biceps still looked like mangos. Only in size, not color.

Finishing up, I was back on the trail. People were beginning to get their days started.

Checking the site my undercover had mentioned, I was startled to find it empty. Where were the goods? She was reliable source, but maybe someone else had shaken her down already. It mattered little, in the grand scheme of things, since it would probably be full again by this time next week. Life's like that, I guess.

I stopped in to see another informer of mine. He was alright; introduced me to a new friend of his. I couldn't stay long, if someone knew about my undercover, it might be risky to be seen together. As I walked away, I heard them talking about me. I was a POI, or person-of-interest. It seems that all my connections had been compromised. I wouldn't know for sure until the excrement hit the rotating climate control device.

Tired of running in circles, I returned to the office, replacing my partner at the desk. There was little else to do here, now, other then try and fix my busted surveillance system. A couple of wacks and even that was finished.

Looks like things were back to the old waiting game.

I thought about apple pancakes for breakfast, wondered if they'd go with the white wine I'd been saving. I had a contact to impress tonight, but I doubt he liked pancakes as much as I did. I might even have to go grocery shopping. I contemplated a menu while clipping my nails with scissors. Pure Class.

Another day, more questions, and less answers. Just what I'm used to.

Noir Day part two

When my partner returns, we have a brief dicussion. I leave on my rounds, he stays at the office. It's better this way.

Entering the industrial area, there's a line of formless shapes behind a mesh fence. I try not to look at them. Close by is the kitchen. Makes some of the best grub known to man. Not as good as my momma's, but she's far away, and good food is hard to find. The staff here know my face, know what I like, help me drown my sorrows in apple pancakes. The blonde skirt running the show is one you don't wanna mess with. We understand each other. I don't mess with her turf, and she doesn't ask questions. I like her.

People 'round here like to post things on their walls. Little sayings. Reminders that we're human. I read 'em. Least I can do.

I check out a couple of the usual joints on my duty. They're cold and empty. Kinda like me. I got a headache coming, probably cause I haven't had a drink in so long. I stop at my favorite watering hole, but it's not enough. It's never enough. Soon I get the ground beneath my feet again. Heading to where I'm not supposed to be. I'm in there everyday. Mostly to check for trouble, but also to show them that I can. And to show myself that I can.
Little noises pull my attention to a room packed with boxes, stuffed with who-knows-what. My badge gets me into everywhere, even some places I don't wanna go. Sometimes it's lonely out here. Being one man, the only line between order and chaos.

It's foggy outside. A lone car stands in the pool of lamplight. I know the guy says he owns it, says he'll be back for it. We'll see.

Nursing a drink, I consider the issue rising between my partner and I. I wonder if I'll have to involve the boss. My boss is a looker. Someone more foolish than me might mistake him for another pretty face, but I've see him in action. He gets the job done, and I respect that. He stays out of my way, and I like that.

'Round 2 o'clock I get the feeling that it's going to be a quiet night, although I'm not sure if it's instinct or hope. I got a deadline to be back at the office by. Hope I make it. Checking out the cartel on my way back, a man in a dress stares at me. I try not to stare back. I'm not sure if he'd like it, or not. Another man is eating a plate of garlic. He is every time I see him. I wonder why. I smile at him. He never smiles back.

There's a land war over some nearby territory. I don't know the players, but I guess I don't need to. I just need to know the winner. Right now? Could go any way.

I take my badge off to answer the call of nature. It's the only way I can. Little about this gig is natural.

I sign my name on my report with enough time to make it back to the office. Even some time to grab some of the swill I call "coffee". I stop in at the Lady L's. I need comfort and her place always provides. Let the office wait. I do.

Back behind my desk, I type up a report on some problems I've found. I wonder if the perp will ever be punished. Probably not. That's how it always goes. I turn my mind from the issue to the little lady waiting for me at home. Hope she's safe. Just got her back from the hospital today, and I'm a little worried about losing her again. She's seen me at my worst, and still seems to love me.I wonder what I did to deserve her. Probably something in a previous life, I decide.

The crooner nearby insists that some chicky has him "lifted, gifted, higher then the ceiling". It's been a while since I've heard this one. I wonder if he'll play it again.

Takes me four tries to remember the new password.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Noir day at work

The coffee's cold again. It always is.
I grimace, remembering the previous morning, barreling out the door in a panic to avoid being late for my four-legged friend's appointment. The broad on the line sounded like she didn't like waiting, and I had to get it done today. Dame was in a hurry. They always are. Sometimes it's just best to play their game.

I suffer through the old run-off, moving down the dimly lit stairway to receive a briefing from the last shift. They're tired, and want to go home. Hell, we all do.
"The password's changed. Don't forget." I study it carefully before crumpling it into illegibility. Security. It's what we do.

My partner grabs the master-key, heading out to patrol the area, scoping for trouble spots. I take over the desk, staring at the wall, like I've done a million times before. Outside, the lights illuminate dull, wet areas of street, people moving through them like zombies; Business man worried about his paycheque, young couple clinging to each other, shifty-eyed man moving quickly.

I shuffle through my papers, each looking like a photograph of the previous day's. Suddenly, something caught my eye; Some property we'd loaned out previously hadn't been returned. That was bad. When things got late enough to come over to my shift? There was trouble.

I radioed my partner, crackling over the static to keep an eye out. For what? anything unusual. We had a case on our hands, and it had to be dealt with. I decided to search up the usual suspects. I'd named them all in my head: Mugsy, Shorty, Lefty. Dunno why they all sounded alike. Maybe 'cause they all looked alike. In this line of work, people all blend together after a while. I'd started to suspect people in my sleep. What were they doing? What had they done? Tossing it over in my mind until I woke up in a cold sweat, the cat licking my face.

I had settled into my desk when the door flew open and in marched a scary looking man. He had something in his grip; I lept to my feet, ready for action. He thrust it into my hands, "Here.", and left without a word. I unwrapped the package, fearing the worst. Maybe I shouldn't have let the rookie out alone? But it was the property we'd loaned out. Safe and sound. I couldn't help wondering why had it come back so late? Was something going down?

After filling in my partner, I sat down to do some heavy research. If something was happening in my territory, I had to know about it. And soon.

*To be continued*

Friday, January 04, 2008

Happy New Year

Well, it's a new year now.

I dunno.
Was expecting something else, I guess.

Started pretty rocky with some panicking around 2 in the morning, but it seems to have straightened out.

Irritated that I just cancelled one of my paycheques that was MIA, only to come to work and discover it had been picked up and dropped off at work THAT DAY.

I don't feel as witty as I usually do.
Pretty, dumb, actually...