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Camy

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Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. Camy

    Trust on-line

    By Camy,

    I'd like it if I could assign more than one category to a post. It would be peachy, because this might well end up being claptrap as well, and possibly include a whine or two. So.
    Trust is the most important part of any relationship, be it in real life or in the relationships we have with people we are never likely to meet. There are people here I like, there are people here I admire, but as far as trust goes is it right, or indeed safe, to open up and be truthful about who I am. Stupid question really. The answer has to be no, but I'm asking it nevertheless.
    I always tend to trust first and then be very disappointed when the trust I've given is thrown back in my face. Ultimately, as humanity spends more and more time on-line, the question of trust is going to become more important. Can you have meaningful relationships with people in cyberspace? Can you open up to a bunch of similar minded people without fear of recrimination? Can one come out from behind a pen name and say 'This is who I really am'?
    My muse is saying yes, do it! I'm not so sure.
  2. Camy

    Good Stuff!

    By Camy,

    I'm sitting at Mick's computer, and he's on the phone talking to a guitarist.
    Our band is going to take a back seat for a while, 'cause we're re-forming a band that was quite well known a while ago. It's a three piece, and I'm going back to my first discipline: Drumming.
    Looking forward to it? Fuck yeah!
    Camy
  3. Camy

    Duck Duck Emu

    By Camy,

    I love 'Duck Duck Goose' and I hate it, too. As a story it's had me in all states of emotion, yet as a writer I know I could never write anything similar. That kind of length would get me twisted up in knots so fast I'd have to admit myself to the loony bin.
    But why? That's what's bothering me. Why can I only seem to write short stories?
    I have a couple of nearly finished novels, and yet every time I think of finishing them, I get into a cold sweat.
    Know thyself is good advice. I obviously don't.
    Yours, miffed.
    Camy
    ---
    I've finished 'Bathtime', a short (how did you guess?).
  4. Camy

    Guffoo

    By Camy,

    Bloody black dog. I can't seem to shake the thing. And me thinking it was all roses. They have thorns, don't you know.
    'Bath Time' is finished, and should be up this weekend, I hope. Like 'Fellow Travellers', it has a pinch of truth swaddled by muse's wanderings. Apropos of nowt: spooge is such a great word!
    'Probisher' is getting longer and longer, and consequently more and more convoluted. I want to write an 'A does this, then that, then a bit of the other ... and finally shags B' Oh, so I have. Neato. Another one to strike off the list.
    Erm ... well then. I'm on a Nutella binge. I can't get enough of it. And milk. Can you drink too much milk, I wonder? I must be on two to three pints a day. I Love it ... and NO health warning, which makes me suspicious. Consumer paranoia, the cat says. Still, what does she know? She likes cream. Tart.
    Seraph. Damn. I knew there was something I should be doing. Can't. Not cooked enough.
    Grasshopper's 'Darkfall' has reached chapter 22, and is brilliant. Brilliant! Ronyx's 'Brittle as a Bird' is good too. Chapter 15 should be released this week.
    We've been rehearsing a lot. There are two of us, as at the moment, neither of us can handle the nightmare politics of a full band. We've pared the material down, and, as well as the rest of the set, we're now playing two tracks with just piano, guitar and voice. One of them is 'Broken Heart' which is sounding better and better each time we play it. When we're ready, we're planning on videoing one of our gigs and putting it on YouTube.
    Ave.
    Camy
  5. Camy
    AGHHHHHHHHH!!!
    1761 when I should be at least at 5001 is peeving. Peeving I tell 'e. It's just not good enough!
    AGHHHHHHHHH!!!
    And, and, and oh poop. I picked the wrong day to give up sniffing glue. What? It's my blog I shall be as contentious as I like. And frankly - but don't tell anyone, it's a secret - I've never sniffed or mainlined glue. Or herbage either. Difficult to inject a large pot plant, anyway. Though why smoking one of God's own plants is illegal worries me. He/She/It gave us this wondrous (according to some, but not others) green growing thing in the first place. Did you know you can sail a ship with it?
    Waffle, that's what this is. Waffle to clear my mind of an insanely weird scene in a secret pub near Covent Garden. There are elves too. I like elves. And mountains.
    Nuff said.
    Bye.
  6. Camy

    'tis a pain, a pain indeed.

    By Camy,

    I'm talking about revision. You get back what you thought was a tightly polished story, and damn me it's suddenly got a plethora of 'things' that need fixing.
    I have one paragraph - a description of two people sitting on a bench overlooking a meadow - which it seems I've spent a decade on ... and it still isn't quite right. Oh, it was fine before, ;) but now, no. English is a very silly language. There are so many ways of couching the same thing, and each has something to recommend it.
    Then there is tense. I normally write in the first person, so it's a doddle (hmm), but third is so, sooooo much harder. On the one hand it's great, because you can have multiple points of view. But when you're trying to deal with different time lines, it's brain ache. And, and, and .... Pshaw!
    Anyway, if I finish my paragraph in time it will be posted this weekend. And the rest of the story as well.
    Camy: the brain addled Emu.
  7. Camy
    As a few of you know I've recently moved. It was a pain in the rear, and in order to get out in the time required I either had to throw a lot of stuff away or store it somewhere. Unfortunately I'm an inveterate hoarder - I don't mean keeping piles and piles of old newspapers or heaps of rubbish, but I've got a lot of personal stuff like photos and ... well, stuff. You know - or perhaps you're lucky and don't.
    Anyway, I got rid of two van loads at the dump, and then I found out about the concept of storage! W00T!!!
    A little on-line research, and I rented a container for a month. It wasn't cheap, but it seemed to solve a problem. I'd have a month to go through my stuff and 'rationalise.' Then I could throw away the real rubbish and keep the rest. A good idea ... NOT! The month has past and I've been there once. It's still full of ... stuff, and I'm not one iota closer to 'sorting out' anything.
    Ah well. Such is life ....
  8. Camy

    Fragile

    By Camy,

    I'm feeling fragile. Apologies for the expletives.
    Ultimately it comes down to purpose. Why am I here, and what the fuck am I supposed to be doing?
    They say - depending on who the 'they' are - that I'm here to improve my lot and will come back time after time until I get the keys to ... heaven/nirvana/shangri-la or alternatively I'm gonna burn in the fires of hell. Well, I'm not keen. And I'm certainly not keen on the fires of hell. I want to know what it is I should be doing so I can get on with it. Hmm. Not too hard is it?
    Apparently, yes. It is.
    The concept of life I grew up with was: be a child, go to school, grow up, go to university, get a job, retire, die. Well, I've truly fucked up on that. I got stuck in the growing up bit, and I can't even seem to achieve that. There are no jobs for life anymore, and retirement is just a farce unless you happen to win the lottery.
    I wish my dad was still alive to tell me, though actually he was as lost as I am. His only piece of advice to me was 'do whatever you want provided you're happy, and don't harm others'. Nice, but really he should have given me a map.
    Then there are the side roads I seem to have drifted down. Like drugs. Well, yes I do. Unfortunately.
    Oh lord, hear my prayer, and send me a sign ... or the lottery numbers. I thank you.
    I should have been an astronaut or a steam train driver. Perhaps it's not to late. Ok, so maybe not an astronaut.
    I'm one fucked up Emu.
    Goodnight.
    Oh, and then there's M, my true love. I want to live with him, but achieving it seems nigh impossible. The C word - commitment - is just ... terrifying, yet why should it be? I love him, and he loves me. So why is it all so difficult?
  9. Camy

    Needy

    By Camy,

    I is feeling mucho needy.
    Just over a year ago I took my heart in my hands and told my best friend that I loved him. It was done deal, really, 'cause deep down I knew he felt the same way ... and he did. The idea was that we were going to live together as soon as we could. A year and a bit down the line it still hasn't happened. 'Things' keep getting in the way, and I'm getting really effing brassed off.
    One of the 'things' has been ... erm ... my problem, is to do with personal space. I'm a loving guy, but I can't sleep with anyone. Cuddling, no problem. But actually sleeping. Big problem. And I don't know what to do about it. The one good part is that he's known me and my foibles for years, but still. It would be nice to wake up in his arms.... Well, according to the stories I've read, it would.
    Yesterday I came downstairs and found the cat looking inordinately proud. He had a baby bunny. It was in perfect condition - except for being dead - and looked asleep. I was mortified. But the cat didn't care. I tried to explain that killing baby bunnies was not on - but to no avail. He pointed out that he's a cat, and that he's following his genetic prerogative ... as I'm following mine. Bloody Cat.
    Chapter 12 of Seraph is finished and edited. Only one chapter left to go, now. At some point after it's finished I'm going to re-edit, as inevitably there are bits I'm not happy with ... not to mention the odd flaw in continuity and plot.
    I'm part way through a short 'boarding school drama' - as requested in dubious circumstances by Cole. It's set in the UK in the seventies with a working title of 'Bathtime'.
    And I'm still needy (even after writing this blog). I want a hug! *sighs*
    Ave, all.
    Camy
  10. Camy

    Splish Splash

    By Camy,

    I went swimming today: In the sea, and it happened like this.
    M and I have been taking daily walks. He thinks he's overweight, and he is a little bit - though I wouldn't ever tell him. He's gone on the Atkins diet, which, to cut a very long load of bollocks short, is a royal pain. I eat what I want, but can't do it in front of him as he starts drooling like Homer Simpson. He, on the other hand, can't eat any carbohydrates at all. None. It's a pain.
    So in the afternoons we go for a walk. Today, as it was blazingly hot, we were on the beach. We'd walked for miles (seemingly) trying to find a spot without other people, and finally found one. I was wearing shorts, threw off my shirt and after a bit of wincing - 'cause the pebbles were sharp and the water cold - went and wallowed. 'twas most excellent!
    On the way back we were walking by a row of beach huts, and there, sunning himself, sat a friend who offered us tea. A cold drink would have been just peachy, but no, a cup of hot tea is what we got. Only in England.
    All in all a good day.
    I can't wait to get him jogging!
  11. Camy

    Cats are a PAIN!

    By Camy,

    It's raining, and the cats are in a fractious mood. Cody sneaks up on her brother ... wakes him up ... he gets grumpy, and starts chasing her ... she comes thundering upstairs, and hides on my lap.
    Then they go out, and back in again: wet. I have to stop what I'm doing and dry them off ... then they go out again ... and back in ... and ....
    Ad-infinitum.
    I'm part exchanging them for a hamster.
  12. Camy

    How hard can it be?

    By Camy,

    I've always lived with the idea in the back of my mind (don't laugh) that, if push came to shove I'd be able to walk out of the door with a pack on my back, and start a new life without worrying about what I'd left behind.
    Ha! Fat chance. I'm selling this thing called house (can't afford the mental anguish any more) and have been trying to get rid of my 'things', but it's proving a lot, A LOT harder than I thought it would.
    Take photographs. I have a lot of them, both from home and from work, and video too. I also have all my father's negs. If I were to start now I'd probably not be done digitising until Christmas - and I'd be lucky if it was Christmas this year. Diaries: I have years of the buggers - some with only a few entries, but every time I put them in the bin, this other 'me' pulls them out again.
    T-shirts. I like t-shirts
    The list goes on and on, and I don't really want to throw any of it away.... *sighs*
  13. Camy
    "They don't like it up 'em, Captain Mainwaring!" This line from 'Dad's Army' set the tone for Katie (ancient siamese beasty) having her claws clipped. She's pretty much house-bound nowadays and her claws are ... well 'savage' belies the truth. 'Wickedly Bitching Sabatier' comes closer.
    You don't want her on your lap: unless you're wearing chain-mail, and unfortunately, mine's rusty.
    So ... I tried. The thing is with cats: they're psychic. She knew I was nervous even before I decided to start. Now I have a knee like a pin cushion, and no thanks from anybody.
    Still, on the upside, I got one paw done. Only three more to go!
    Yours, most miffed,
    Camy
  14. Camy

    The flip side

    By Camy,

    Living in the country is very nice:
    I know this now I don't.
    The grass elsewhere is always greener,
    but move again I won't.
    Ah, hindsight. Suh-weet hindsight.
    The move went well - in as much as we moved. Hard work? I should bleedin' well coco! There aren't enough web-bots or admins to remove the expetives I'd like to write - or masseurs to ease my aching muscles. Obviously I'm not fit enough to live in a house with three floors, 'cause, duh, floors mean stairs. Of course, being avian, I've settled on the top floor. Pity I forgot I can't fly. Humph.
    I really shouldn't moan ... but I will. We ordered broadband on the 6th of September. On the 28th of September we were told that our order had 'become a ghost.' On enquiring what exactly that meant, the chap said the order had gone into a void from which it couldn't be recovered - ever - and consequently it had to be cancelled and then re-ordered - though he wasn't quite so consise. Apparently, what with the de-regulation of telecoms in the UK, these things often happen. For some reason I imagined him sitting around a table sipping tea and nibbling cucumber sandwiches as he told me this, and added, contritely, "we're very sorry."
    How sorry they are remains to be seen. I should be powering up my in-game lazers and killing monsters, now. Instead I'm not. QED.
    Then I run out of petrol. I haven't run out of petrol in years. I almost pride myself (I definitely would if pride didn't come before a fall) on being sensible and not running out of petrol, which, to be fair, is always a royal pain in the arse. Long walk, then I had to buy a can (pay for the can first, then fill it up and pay for the petrol. Can't I pay for both at once? No.).
    Then the next morning I get a parking ticket. This was midweek. The Saturday before, and three days after we moved in, we saw town life as Dickens must have known it.
    Just before midnight there was a HUGE row on the steps of the house opposite as the residents arrived back, drunk. Six of them sit on the stairs watching as one girl goes nuclear on her boyfriend - apparently he'd slept with some other girl and she had the photos on her phone to prove it. And they're screaming, and effing, and blinding, back and forth across the road. And she's crying and hugging him one moment, and shouting and trying to knee him in the balls the next. A bloke comes out to ask them to be quiet and she storms across and tells him to '*&^&*@' OFF! Sensibly, he does, but meanwhile her boyfriend tries to get away on his moped and gets caught. The inevitable end result is that the police arrive. All of a sudden it's utterly quiet, and the curtain twitching audience retires back to watch the midnight movie.
    Until yesterday, when I bought a data dongle to give me a little net time, I've been sidling around to friends houses where they'd roll their eyes and point me to their computer. They say the net's addictive and believe me it is. I've been pining, and not for the fjords. I started by tethering my netbook to my phone, but the phone company wasn't impressed and got quite upset about it.
    Sorry for rambling on, and many thanks to all of you who left me a poem in response to my last post: good they were, indeed!
    Camy.
  15. Camy

    Funky Words

    By Camy,

    hood, airhead, applesauce, baby, bad egg, baloney, besotted, big bucks, big money, bilgewater, bitch, bite, blind drunk, blotto, boffin, boloney, bolshy, bosh, built, bumph, bun-fight, bundle, bunfight, bunk off, burnup, buy it, caff, can-do, cert, chuck, clean, cockeyed, codswallop, corker, crocked, deck, ditch, dreck, drool, drop-dead, feel, folderol, freaky, fuddled, gat, give, good egg, grotty, guvnor, heebie-jeebies, heist, hooey, hoof, humbug, jitters, juice, key, legs, loaded, mean, megabucks, niff, nosh-up, old man, out-and-outer, pie-eyed, pile, pint-size, pint-sized, pip out, pissed, pixilated, plastered, play hooky, plum, plumb, pong, poppycock, potty, rip-off, rod, rubbish, runty, sawed-off, sawn-off, screaming meemies, shakedown, shlock, shlockmeister, sister, slam-bang, slopped, sloshed, smashed, soaked, some, soused, sozzled, square, square-bashing, squeeze, squiffy, stacked, stiff, straight, stroppy, stuff, stuff and nonsense, taradiddle, , tiddley, tiddly, tight, tipsy, tommyrot, tosh, trash, tripe, trumpery, twaddle, uncool, well-stacked, wet, wish-wash, Pixy, Coal, Cole, Sour-Apple-Squirts.
  16. Camy

    Want

    By Camy,

    Want! Want want want want want want want.
    *sighs*
    I'm wound up tighter than the tightest spring, and I feel like I'm going to snap.
    The human condition sucks.
    *sighs*
  17. Camy

    Done!

    By Camy,

    The 2007 NaNoWriMo is finished! Thank the stars.
    I wrote a story called 'Harvest Time' which started off one thing, and ended up something else entirely - there is no accounting for my muse's whim.
    It's not finished, but hopefully will be soon, and then It'll be edited and released chapter by chapter. It's sequelesque to Nyquist and Feredir.
    Camy

  18. Camy

    *snore*

    By Camy,

    This week I'm grape picking for a living. As I write I'm both tired, irascible, and off to bed.
    Goodnight.
    The knackered one.
  19. Camy

    The occasional wobble

    By Camy,

    Part of the reason I originally moved from 'the big smoke' down to the coast was to avoid the membership dues of the 'Getting Off One's Face' club. So, it was with trepidation (yeah right) that I got the call, and rushed for the train (Whoopee!!!).
    Mental salivation is just as good as physical in my opinion, though on the way up I much doubt anybody watching me would have known, and on the way back I could have cared less.
    London: one thing I have missed is the eye candy (paragraph two equally valid here ... though they can cross over). Not that I knew it until I realised it was lashing down with rain. Normally, when I'm in central London, I walk. But the rain made it impossible - so I got the tube. People watching is the only pastime for brief tube travel, and lawks-a-lawdy there were some fine specimens of mankind to watch.
    I knew there was something I was missing!
    Finally: I make it from the parochial windswept coast, to the urbane dealer's pad ... and much fun was had by all.

  20. Camy

    Knee

    By Camy,

    Two days ago I came thundering down the stairs and wacked my knee into a stupid door frame. Yes, I know. Since I live here, I should know there's a door frame at the bottom of the stairs, but hell ....
    Anyway, it still hurts ... in fact it still ^&$$()_$%!!! HURTS! So I've had words, and whilst the door frame won't apologise, it said if I'm careful, it'll try to stay out of my way. Yeah right.
  21. Camy

    Stoopid bird.

    By Camy,

    Time and time again I do it, and time and time again I berate myself when I ... umm ... wake up.
    Never, never, never, never, never post stuff when in an altered state. There is an off chance that it might be okay, but the odds are similar to those of winning the lottery. Best not to bother - I tell myself yet again. Gah!
    Stupid, stupid me. Now, I must go and stand in the corner for an hour.
    Confused? Here's a poem I wrote about 'it'. Profound or what?!
  22. Camy

    Stupid I am.

    By Camy,

    So I trundle off and write a story - or which I'm proud - and post it.
    I'm tidying up when the computer goes 'ting'. Email!
    'twas a rare missive from the Dude! After opening the champagne, and putting the caviar on ice (yick, pah, pass me a bucket) I sit down to read:
    I scratch chin, then panic - or was it the other way around....
    Paranoia wakes up. Everybody hates me. I pace up and down ... up and down ... down and up....
    Then:
    Grinning I sit back, then frown and start to worry that Cole is going to think horrible things.
    Checking emails more than once a minute can get irksome.
    Then:

    So ... consider a public school story on its way!
    Camy
  23. Camy

    Sunshine

    By Camy,

    So ... I'm fed up with my uber whiny blog entries, and much as I sincerely appreciate all the sage advice and help proffered, enough is enough - until the next time.
    We have a gig tomorrow night, and like any sensible fools we rehearsed. I wish I'd recorded it. My guitar, which has had some problems with its pick-up, has been fixed, has new strings, and sounds peachy. 'twas a good couple of hours. But not as good as the walk on the beach that followed
    Don't ask me why, but the beach was empty. It's the middle of June and there's no one around except for a few poor souls fishing. Why do they fish near sewage outfalls, and do they eat the fish they catch?
    Walking on an empty beach with the guy you love is ... well ... wonderful, fantabulous, magical, fun, erotic, inconsequential, meaningful, and very, very deeply deep. It was sunny, the sea was lively enough to be interesting and there was no wind to bring up goosebumps. We talked and talked, and honestly ... I'm one happy Emu.
    'nuff said.
    Camy
  24. Camy

    Time zones

    By Camy,

    Time zones. I don't like them. They are there to annoy.
    I suppose I should be honest. If the world revolved around the time zone I was in I wouldn't mind so much: having to think about them would still irritate, but I'd cope. BUT having an editor who lives eight hours behind is just ... well bloody inconvenient. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change her for all the tea in China (hmm...). Let me re-phrase. For all the tea in China - which I would sell and then be able to pay her a vast salary and re-location fee, I'd be daft not to.
    Ho hum. It's not going to happen. I can't see the Chinese being so foolish. Although saying that, one of my stories has been 'taken' and put up on a site that might possibly be Chinese.
    Anyway. Time zones are not my favourite thing.
    Neither are slugs. They keep sqidging through the bottom of the back door and 'frightening the horses'. Treading on a slug in the middle of the night whilst half asleep is not to be recommended.
  25. Camy

    Walk Under Ladders Pt XXVII

    By Camy,

    I'm marginally happier now since I finished www.camysgaff.com, and Codey's 'Broken Heart'.
    It's kind of strange that I worked harder on that song than I ever work on my own stuff. I know I'm genuinely lazy, but that - that recording - has shown me I can achieve more if I want to. Now all I need is a month in a proper studio and a band. Fat chance.
    My new short 'Gin' was almost finished when I showed it to a mate. Now: I'm ripping it apart and re-writing. I wanted to post it soon, but there it is. One day it'll see the light of day.
    I've had two shorts accepted for 'www.iomfats.org', which I'm chuffed about ... and the weather seems to be getting better, too. I don't know what it is about the weather that affects my moods, but Lord do I get depressed during the winter. Yes, yes, I know it's raining outside. I'm not that stupid.
    Ave.
    *shuffles off to write another line or two before tea*

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