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Camy

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Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. 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.
  6. Camy
    I like blog categories. I've just created a new one called 'Waffley Truth' which is ... umm ... pretty much what it says. In fact as it covers such a multitude of sins, I think I'm falling in love with it. I used to use 'Claptrapish' and 'off the rails' a lot, but 'Waffley Truth is now definitely number one. Numero uno. Bilingual me.
    I'm working (jolly, jolly hard) to finish last years NaNoWriMo novel before I have to start on this years one. Actually, it's rather good, even though I do say so myself. It's good for a number of reasons, but the main one is that it's almost finished. Yay me.
    M wound me up something rotten. He told me he'd been offered a flat near London. I felt my lower lip begin to quiver, felt the prickling of tears behind the eyes - we were on the beach at the time and it wasn't the wind. Then he told me he wouldn't leave, and all was suddenly right with the world. Git.
    After reading Bruin's excellent 'Boarding School' series I felt it incumbent of me to write about what happens in the holidays to those who go to boarding school. I dug around in the old memory drive - it's more like a large and rather dented dustbin - and came up with 'Simon and the chimney stack'. As true a tale as you're ever likely to read. Hmm, yah. Anyway, it's in the Flash Fiction forum, which seems, sadly, to have gone a tad quiet. Feel free to write and submit some stories of your own.
    Ave. I'm away to my pit, perchance to dream of all sorts of rather nice things.
    Camy
    PS if anybody knows how to import a file from a canon camcorder into Final Cut and keep the audio in sync I'd love to know how.
  7. 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?
  8. Camy

    Uber stressed

    By Camy,

    I'm stressed. Stressed to the point of twanging like a human harp - except without the nice chilled music.
    Another 48 hours will see me either beamishly copacetic, or in a damn nut house. I Pray (or I would if I wasn't agnostic) it's the former ... 'cause I've never really fancied a straight jacket. Too dashed uncomfortable, don't you know.
    Pshaw.
  9. 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.
  10. Camy

    Moving

    By Camy,

    Having got rid of the 'ouse, I'm in the middle of packing up to move.
    Lord I have a lot of utter crap ... and it's so damn hard to get rid of. Which accounts for the stress levels.
    I know that 'things' don't really make one happy. But I've accumulated them, and they're mine (all mine Bwahaha), and I want-want-want to keep them.
    *sighs*
    I've already taken two van loads to the dump.
    *sighs some more*
    I'll be away for a bit, and back when I can.
    Cheers y'all, and apologies to those who have emailed and got no response.
    Camy
  11. Camy
    I've got so much to say, but have just had a phone call. I'm always late, and here I am late again.
    The above means goodbye for now. Explain all later.
    Hmm....
    Camy
    PS 'Tardy Swine!' emoticon obviously required.
  12. Camy

    Character Names, etc.

    By Camy,

    I'm not very good with inventing unique character names. Appalling actually, no idea why, just one of those things. So, as no matter what I do I get a lot of spam, I came up with the idea of using the senders names. Now, some of these really are unique, otherwise they'd get caught by my good friend and colleague: 'Spammy', the spam filter.
    I keep them in a file called ... erm *shuffles about looking embarrassed* 'good names.txt'
    Here are today's:
    Carson Richmond
    Jarek Looman
    Jaramillo Camille
    Isabella Russell
    Luella Conn
    Stuller Schlund
    Allie Jorgensen
    Vonfeldt Merriam
    Guillermo Scruggs
    Colville Carrigan
    Gullace Riback
    Hordei Africanthropus
    Expect to see them in a story, sooner or later. Word.
    If the cat would get off the desk I might be able to post this in a timely fashion.
    "Timely," she says, meowling. "There's nothing you've ever done that's timely."
    "Yeah, right," I reply. "Grub? Litter refilling duties? Opening and closing the back door a thousand times a day?"
    "Yes, but you love me, don't you?" She says, looking like butter wouldn't melt. "And whose fault is it you don't fit a Cat flap. Purrrr?"
    "You're a tart, you know that don't you?" I say. But she's fallen fast asleep ....
    Cats. Who'd have one?
    Emus are another matter entirely!
    The last chapter of Seraph is not making me happy. It's not making me happy, because it won't ... work. *sighs* 'Bathtime', on the other hand, is nearly finished. As are 'Tiatrather', 'Probisher', and 'Berkeley Tales'.
    Enough.
    Ave.
    Camy
  13. 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.
  14. 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

    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
  17. 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!
  18. 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
  19. Camy

    The point

    By Camy,

    The point. Of life. Is there one?
    I'd like to think there is. I'd like to think that it's not all for naught ... but I wonder.
    The years roll by and I find myself getting more and more jaded. More and more meh. That's not to say that I'm giving it all up to join a hermitage. I know what I want to do, and I know that I can do what I want to do ... but the shear amount of effort required sometimes seems pointless .... I wish I didn't ponder. I wish I could slob out in front of the tube and 'hey presto' some poor bastard would eventually arrive and shovel me into a re-cycling bin.
    Ho hum.
    Maybe not.
    ... more coffee ....
  20. 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
  21. 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!
  22. 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
  23. Camy

    Rowing not rowing.

    By Camy,

    M and I had a row today. I was in a foul mood and flew off the handle at a meaningless slight. Then, much like Attila the Hun, I told him to go f**k himself, and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I was incensed. Then, as I drove away, I thought about how he must have been feeling, and I almost ... almost turned back: but I'm nothing if not bloody minded, and drove on. A mile up the road the phone went off ...
    ... and all is well in the garden, Chancy.
    We went for a great walk on the beach. Weather bleedin' 'ot, and narry a cloud in the sky.
    I'm not good with rowing. In the past we've not talked for months, but now we're ... umm ... an item!? I guess I have to be more mature, and less of a kid about 'stuff.'
    Camy.
  25. 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.

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