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Camy

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Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. Camy

    Emus love preening.

    By Camy,

    He might not have a feathered wing
    But he loves to howl and pretends to sing
    He tippy tap typed all through the night
    For thirty days and it came out right.
    Phew. Done, but not close to dusted.
    Congratulations to fellow winner Bruin Fisher, my comrade throughout the 30 days. May your jockstrap never waver!
  2. Camy

    27 in, 3 to go

    By Camy,

    We're on day 27 and there are three days to go. Some of our group have already finished, but Bruin and I are both a little behind. That's not bottom talk by the way. My behind is splendid as it is.
    We're supposed to be in the studio editing another video, but as it's snowing here I have an excellent excuse for writing instead. W00T say I!
    I absolutely shouldn't be here waffling, but waffling seems far more pleasant than having to decide which of my characters - all of whom I like - should be offed and how nastily. I have a choice of two and ... <sniff>I want them out of danger and home eating crumpets and drinking tea. Oh well, needs must as the plot drives.
    Back to it, I guess.
    Ave, y'all.
  3. Camy

    Sharpened fingers

    By Camy,

    I've sharpened my fingers, pencils, and all.
    Determined to succeed: I shall not fall.
    The wayside of NaNoWriMo is painful indeed,
    littered with writers, egos, and need.
    Yup, it's the last few hours before the off. Actually, quite a few hours, but for an Emu of little bonce (ergo weency brain) the hours stream by evermore rapidly.
    I even know what I'll write! Sort of, almost ... nearly.
    If you want to keep in touch with my NaNoWriMo efforts, I have a special blog for it called 'Camy's Idiocy.'
    Ave.
  4. Camy
    Yep, it's that time of year again. The end of October approaching Novermber and [drum roll] NaNoWriMo. After last years debacle - well, I suppose I was recording an album ... but that's no excuse - where I failed, I swore I would grow up, become sensible, buy a dressing gown, carpet slippers, a pipe, and retire.
    I had a relation who smoked a pipe. Nice chap. My Aunt's husband. The thing was I hardly ever saw him as he was generally surrounded by a cloud of acrid, billowing smoke. So, I don't like pipes (bongs are a different kettle of worms). Pipes are just [shudder] disgusting, so that was out. And, as it's cold here in November, I already have the slippers and dressing gown. Wuzzly warm I am, too!
    The bottom line is I am going to write yet another 'novel.' Notice the 'going to.' There's none of that wishy washy 'attempt to write' stuck in there. Positivity! That's the ticket! At least that's what it said on the back of the cereal packet this morning. Hmm.
    My big problem is what to write it on. Paper and pen are out. Even if I had decent handwriting you have to send in text to be verified, and a copy typist I'm not. So software. La-di-da, software! But which?
    Ywriter 5 is wonderful, as is Writer's Cafe. Page four is excellent too. I have them all and flit between them like a despotic butterfly. Frankly, and here is where the crux of my problem lies, I can't decide on which tool to use (not a word please, Des ;) ).
    And now, now I've found Scrivener has been ported to windows! Scrivener which is supposed to be the dogs bollocks.
    The very bottom line is that I have just short of a week to write a stonkingly great and stellar outline - the F1 Korean Grand Prix is this weekend, which sadly takes away a chunk of valuable outlining time - and still I can't decide on my implements.
    Ah well, such is life. Any helpful, non fatuous advice would be most gratefully received.
    Camy
  5. Camy
    Finally, yesterday, we finished shooting a video for 'Spring of Teal'.
    I love Apple computers and their software. Final Cut rocks! All I have to do is log and capture the DVs, Sync them and snippety-snip. Easy-peasy! I'll see you next millenia, then.
  6. Camy
    "I done gone and made a video!" the fool said proudly.
    "Good, good," said the cat, flexing her claws and going back to sleep.
    And it nearly was good. The thing is that making a video on your own is bleedin' hard. No nifty camera moves, no slow zoom in whilst tracking out. All of the cutesy things you can have fun with with mates are impossible. And then there was the hat's damn label.
    I was wearing a hat, and without anyone to point out that its label was showing, the label had a staring role ... or should that be starring. It's certainly there and very eye drawing. In fact it's all I can see. Turning the thing to sepia didn't help and then posterizing it was waaaay overboard. Oh well.
    So today I have to do the whole thing again. Bah.
    Cats are useless things. Love them I do, but they just won't help.
  7. Camy
    It's past 2.00am and I'm pondering if I want to get up at 5.00am to watch the last ever episodes of Lost. After all, Lost is a phenomenonenomeything, isn't it? Well yes (he says, answering his own question) it is. I was addicted to the first season - why do they call it a season and not a series? Addicted, and couldn't wait for the second to start. Then, when it did, and as is usual in the UK (curses to all responsible) it was taken off free-to-air and bought by that scuzzoid Rupert Murdoch and his Sky TV station.
    So, sadly, with tears free flowing, I gave up on it. Then ... eventually ... I got sucked into getting Sky and there it was: Lost. By this time it had become sooooo weird I had no hope of catching up, and honestly I though I'd probably be floating around a graveyard before it finally finished.
    Now, in less than three hours, the final episodes are being aired. At the same time all over the planet. W00T!
    But ... and here's the rub, am I going to struggle out of my beautifully warm and wuzzly pit to watch it? Do I really care that much? I guess it'd be kinda like having listened to the original Orson Welles 'War of the Worlds' transmission in the 50's.
    2030 at a 2nd Life drinkyoos party. Everyone's wearing the latest virtual sex outfits with additional length (though smaller is still prefered by some): "Yes, yes, I watched live as the end of Lost went to air back in 2010. Oh yes, I was programmed with the J.J.Abrams virus, too. Another iPopper, anyone?"
    -------------
    And then there're pills. I still have a full box of Prozac yum-yums, and haven't decided whether to start taking them or not.
    It's not a little decision, like taking asperin for a headache. And I don't want to make a mistake and turn into some sort of ravening beast ... or conversely hide my head under a rock for the next few years.
    --------------
    The writing is going well. There, I've said it. No more excuses. It's true that what I'm writing might end up being twaddle, but at least it's being written, and! I'm getting a buzz everytime I fire up the computer and begin.
    And that, as they say, is that.
    Will I watch Lost? Will I pop pills? Stay tuned for further waffle and possible updates. And if you fancy having a goog laugh then click HERE and read Jason's latest bloggy missive.
    Cheers, y'all!
    Camy
  8. Camy

    wuz'appening.

    By Camy,

    I'm finally starting to write again, which is, quite frankly, an utter Gawdsend, as I'd pondered the thought that perhaps that was it and I'd shot my authorial bolt ... as it were.
    Now I know I haven't - or perhaps that should be 'think' rather than 'know' - I'm marginally happier. Not that I haven't been happy ... just a tad depressed.
    I went to the doctor last week and told her - I had a choice of a her or a him, and I think if you're going to spill your emotions to a doctor it's probably best to do it with a her. After all, hers are supposed to be nurturing and caring, whereas a him would just tell me to buck my ideas up and be a man.
    Anyway, I told said her that I was depressed, and swifter than the fastest swallow (unladen with coconut) I had a prescriptiion for Fluoxetine - which is another name for Prozac. Yum, I thought, cantering out of the surgery. Okay, actually I had no idea what Fluoxetine was until I read the leaflet and enquired of our Oh Lord Wikipedia what doest thou say?
    And then ...
    #shudder#
    ... I read the side effects.
    I'm still a tad depressed, but I'm not going to be joining that band wagon, thank you very much. I wouldn't mind a therapist to talk to, but as the bottom line is 'know yourself,' what on earth would I say? It'd end up being a very expensive hour of silence.
    Yours, most felicitously,
    Camy
  9. Camy

    Interviewed by The Dude!

    By Camy,

    Sunday 11th April. The Awesome Dude Weekend Show No 25
    I was as nervous as a very nervous thing, Mick was Mick, and The Dude put us both at our ease. It was the first interview we've done and though I'm only too aware I should have been more ... umm, something, and probably less something else. Anyway, all in all we're ecstatic!
    If you want to know what on earth I'm waffling on about then go to Awesome Dude Radio and listen to the 25th weekend show. Go on, you know you want to!
    Cheers!
  10. Camy

    AaaaChoooo-oink.

    By Camy,

    If you've heard the expression 'dipping your pen in the company ink' then you're a better chap (or chapess) than me. Though now I know what it means. Thanks, Jason!
    I'm hallucinating and proud - which is, according to the doctor and over the phone, because I have flu (I opened the window and influenza). He said that the best thing for flu is to take two paracetamol every four hours and go to bed. 'Anti Virals?' murmur I, 'Not very efficacious' he says, 'though if you want ...?' I do want. I really do want, but then he's the doctor and who am I to query his judgement.
    Anyway, as I'm ill I thought you should all know in case wake planning is a hobby amongst any of our membership.
    Cheers,
    Camy
  11. Camy

    Back online

    By Camy,

    Having moved to a place without a phone line it took an age and a half to get that sorted, and a deal longer to get ADSL up and running. Now, I'm back online and it feels ... mmmmmmmm yummy scrumptious!
    We're a five minute walk from the beach. Sadly it isn't sand, but it does have water which is quite an important pre-requisite for a beach. The cats like it, too. A boon, 'cause having sad cats ain't where it's at, at all. AND the garden is small which make mowing the lawn a doddle. I like doddles.
    Ave.
    Camy
  12. Camy

    Bloody typical!

    By Camy,

    A long time ago I read a book called 'Empty World' by John Christopher. It begins with a global pandemic that first kills off all the adults, and later, most of the children. It's the story of how a very small group of survivors gets on. When I first read it I was the age of the book's hero: a teenager. Now that we are about to suffer a real pandemic I find myself in positively the wrong age group. Bollocks!
    Much like the public information films about nuclear war that suggested we should loiter behind a door, under a pile of earth filled bin bags, the U.K. government's response to swine flu suggests that: The best way to protect yourself and stop the spread of flu viruses is by using and disposing of tissues and washing your hands.
    They have also come up with a very catchy phrase: CATCH IT, BIN IT, KILL IT. Obviously Hummers, camouflage outfits and AK47s are of no use whatsoever. Not that I have a Hummer or an AK47, though I do have a rather natty pair of desert camouflage pants.
    Still, I'm going to be most miffed if I sneeze myself off this mortal coil before I've written a stonking good novel. Hmm, best get started I suppose.
  13. Camy

    Debt

    By Camy,

    Joy! We had our budget yesterday. Apparently, those 'in charge' have borrowed - and intend to go on borrowing - an awful lot of dosh. Apparently, the debt equates to over ?17,000 for every man woman and child in the UK. Apparently ....
    Sadly, I voted for the inept cretins - though (in my defence) at the time the prime minister wasn't a man with despotic megalomania, and the Chancellor didn't have Caterpillars for eybrows and an Adams' family hairdo.
    Never again!
    I intend to declare independence. The Royalesque Bank of Emu will be opening its doors shortly. Investors most welcome.
  14. Camy

    Muse vs WoW

    By Camy,

    My brain is being battered by warfare. Muse - bless his cotton socks - wants to do stuff, but me, I can't seem to get it together. I mean, here I am on the computer, typing. But when it comes to putting words in order that do anything close to telling a tale. Pah. So it's off to bloody (and yes it is bloody with the amount of poor beasties I've slaughtered and skinned) Azeroth.
    I have three alliance characters that I'm levelling (don't ask me what it means, 'cause I don't really know). One, a Human Paladin is at level 8 (whoopdeedoo) and is presently dead. My Night Elf Druid (level 5) is also, presently dead, and my weency Gnome Warrior is alive and kicking at level 5.
    Credit where credit is due: WoW is great fun, but the hours and hours I spend playing makes me feel oh so bleedin' guilty. I mean to say ... I want to have a legacy of at least a couple of dozen novels ... and an album or two, and I'd quite like to knock up an audio play as well. And yet. And yet ....
    What I really need to learn is WoW speak. The forums are ... well, interesting, to say the least. The problem is they seem to speak a language I don't understand. Here's an example:
    If anyone can translate I'd be overjoyed. Okay, so maybe overjoyed is a slight exageration. But interested, at least.
    I just have to 'say no'.
    "No more WoW! No more!" he said, sweating as Tealshy, the Night Elf, batted his eyes seductively with his 'come hither' look. "I have to write, don't you understand?" Tealshy pouted.
    Tum te tum te tum.
    Anyway, I'm in the middle of 'The First Term' which is a direct continuation of 'The First Day.' I'm not sure when it's going to be finished, but, WoW permitting, soon.
    Ave.
    Camy
  15. Camy

    Muse

    By Camy,

    Having spent a couple of months desolate and bereft of the urge to write anything, other than shopping lists, it appears that my flighty friend, confident, and all-round blithering idiot, Muse, has returned.
    W00T I say, and W00T some more.

  16. Camy

    Addicted

    By Camy,

    If you have an addictive personality it's unwise - nay foolish - to start doing anything that is ... erm ... addictive. Obviously. Drugs: been there, done that. Alcohol - though I consider it a drug as much as anything else - the same. Okay, sure, I have the occasional brandy in a cup of coffee, and I've picked the wrong day to give up sniffing glue, but that's my lot. Honestly.
    Until, that is, a week ago, and I found WoW.
    World of Warcraft is ... well, it's bloody brilliant!
    Camy
  17. Camy

    Cars Grrrrrr.

    By Camy,

    In the UK we have a yearly test for cars called an MOT. In years past, although it was illegal, frowned upon, and you risked getting a big slap, it was not that big a deal if your cars MOT had expired. Now, what with computers and the 1984 Big Brother mentality, you risk severe doo-doo if you don't have one.
    Today, my baby Renault Clio failed hers. *sob, wail, gnash, howl*
    So I get home and look at the failure sheet (you have 10 days to put the problems right and have a re-test).
    'It's not so bad' I'm thinking. 'A few bulbs, a bit of exhaust pipe, front brakes and a tyre.' Then I realise that because of the exhaust pipe it hasn't had the dreaded emissions test.
    The emissions test (minds out of gutter, please) is a nightmare. If you have the most perfect car in the world and it fails this test, then you have to scrap it (and kill yourself, too).
    So, I'm in a catch 22, and panicking! If I fork out and have the exhaust fixed (which - according to the nice man at the garage - could be as much as ?350) it might still fail emissions due to the engine ... and there are still the tyre and the bulbs and the brakes and etc, etc, etc.
    Then ...
    ... a friend phones up. He's got a Citroen Belingo with 2 months MOT and he's going to give it to me for ... FREE!!!!
    It needs a bit of work, but as he was about to have it scrapped, it's a win-win all around.
    Oh, chuffed and lucky am I!
  18. Camy

    Backup!

    By Camy,

    Recently I've been somewhat miffed.
    The reason being: we lost a hard drive with a months work on it. It was a brand new hard drive and was immediately replaced, but that doesn't replace the music.
    Still, on the bright side we've decided it was 'the mysterious finger of God' that fucked us up, and the work we do now will, obviously, be much, much better. We've decided this because otherwise I'd have to kill myself for being a total arse, and frankly, I feint at the sight of blood - especially my own.
    So, folks, backup! Do it, don't think about it, just do it. You know it makes sense.
    Camy the miffed.
  19. Camy

    Happy Valentine!

    By Camy,

    I wrote a 'poem' ... it seemed the thing to do.
    There are those I admire who live who far away
    Across Oceans and lands vast and stark
    Whose wit and friendship oft make my day
    And pull me from moods deep and dark
    So on Saint Valentine's day I'd like them to know
    Their friendship and love matters muchly
    To this English prole who would like to bestow
    A Lordship at least ... or a Duchy!
  20. Camy

    Update

    By Camy,

    My hubristic outburst along the lines of 'shan't write a thing until I've finished a novel na-na-na-na-naaaaaa!' has caused me a lot of grief. So much, in fact, that I'm amazed I haven't exploded - or should that be imploded ... or possiby both?
    Anyway, I've given up on it. If I do, then I do. If I don't, then c'est la vie, or somesuch. Life's way too short not to write because I've been a tit. There I've admitted it: I'm a tit.
    -----
    Let me commend to you www.fawm.org. Lots of fun, and remember that if you can't twang thump or wail: songs need lyrics - and writers write them!
    -----
    Shock horror! I was tidying up my bedroom and I found a cobweb. Shocked to say the least, I was. Mainly because there were no spiders to be found. Lot's of spiders must have been partying, but narry a one in sight. Why? Where have they gone?
    -----
    I have in excess of a few part finished short stories that I'm working on. Proud I am of this nugget, but I'll be prouder still when I actually finish one. Soon.
    -----
    And that is that for the moment.
    Ave all.
    Camy
  21. Camy

    Back!

    By Camy,

    Lord, did I need a hit.
    I was cold turkeying - a neat zombiesque dance I've worked out - all the way to the phone socket. With trembling hands I ripped apart the packaging of my new *free* wireless router. Fumbling in haste, I managed to plug in the filters and slip the cable home with a snick!
    With antici ...
    ... pation I powered up and logged on.
    Drooling as sweet, glorious bits and bytes flooded my system.
    Sweet, sweet WWW.
    Yep, with a new ISP I'm back ... oh yes *shudder* I am.
  24. Camy

    Happy Holidays!

    By Camy,

    Whatever you happen to call it, may I wish you all a very happy post winter solstice bash. Don't get too drunk, stoned, or whatever ... and if you do, then drink plenty of water before you crash out.
    Hugs!
    Camy
  25. Camy
    Yes I am, but not quite 100%, which means several thing. No kissing, other than on the neck. So necking, as such, is right on. Actually, I rather like it. M's neck is just scrummy, though his hair - which is rather long - tickled my nose. I aim for right behind the ear, which means if I'm sneaky I get a little nibble on his lobe in as well. Mmm .... Sorry, it's probably way too much information.
    We were going to to carry on recording tomorrow, but as M's getting over the same thing - he's two days behind me - we really don't want to re-infect ourselves, and certainly don't want to infect the guitarist.
    ---------
    I've been thinking about writing a lot over the last few days and have come to a rather large decision. The train of thought started as I was reading Grasshopper's 'Just One Starfish': continued as I read Cole Parker's 'When He Was Five', and I'm still pondering as I'm in the middle of Jesse Hajicek's brilliant 'The God Eaters'.
    I write short stories. I like writing short stories because as far as novels go they are pretty much instant gratification: a wank as opposed to a night of real love, if you will. And why? Because I'm bloody lazy. And perhaps ... perhaps I don't have the mind for anything longer. I don't know. But I soon will.
    My decision is not to write any more of anything (blogging and tarting on the boards aside) until I finish one of the novels I've started.
    Wish me luck!

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