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Camy

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Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. Camy
    We've been here now for three weeks, and the Cats have just started to get to go out. They love the garden, and especially the 'patio' which heats up in the sun. They seem to like lying on their backs and wait for their tummy's to be rubbed. Jolly sensible I think, and I'm going to do the same the next time M comes over ... provided the neighbours are out.
    The angst involved in letting them out was almost too much. The road at the front of the house, though not a main road, is not Cat friendly - unlike the last place we lived. I've suddenly realized how much I care for their welfare. But the bottom line is that they are not indoor cats, and pragmatically: what will be will be.
    As for me, I'm chilled, and starting to enjoy life again. I've even started to write a new short story - though in my darker moments I wondered if I'd ever write again. The thing is I'm almost sure that writing and music were the only things that kept me sane for the last year or so. And now the stress is over and done with I'm wondering if perhaps I don't need to write or howl ....
    Naaaaa. I like it far too much to give up.
    Oh yeah, we've got a festival gig in July!
    Oh YEAH! I've got a mac! W00T!
  2. Camy
    I'm beginning to feel chilled and happy. The stress of the last year has finally vanished over the horizon - never to return - and it's summer! What more could a chap want? Oh yeah, that. ;)
    That's being worked on. *coughs and blushes*
    Ooops. I'm late.
  3. Camy
    So ... we've moved, and I can almost feel the stress seeping out of my body and evaporating ... or whatever happens to stress when it's no longer required.
    For the last couple of days I've felt totally dispossessed - like I was acting in a film with a weird script, and over which I had no control. Most odd.
    Now it's the cats that are stressed out. The poor things are going off their heads with angst. And because they can't go out for a couple of weeks, they spend most of their time slinking around arguing - or looking longingly out of the window at their new territory.
    Back to normal soon, methinks. Possibly ... hopefully.
    Camy
  4. Camy
    WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
    too much to do
    too much bleedin' everything and not enough (read none at all) "how's your father"
    can't be bothered with capitals or punctu-blinkin'-ation
    must get back to it
    don't want to
    want to play
    squark!
    WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

  5. 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
  6. 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.
  7. 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 ....
  8. Camy
    Earlier today I was slugging coffee, writing, and occasionally - when I got stuck - picking up the guitar and noodling. Noodling helps me think. Anyway, I ended up penning a ditty. Then - as I don't write music - I made a rough recording.
    Here are the lyrics:
    Ordinary Man
    i am an ordinary man
    i ain't subtle there's no plan
    when I saw you at first
    my heart flipped went berserk
    i think i love you - i think i love you
    you're a man
    wasn't the plan
    'cause i am straight
    let others hate
    'cause i am me
    and you are you
    and does it matter
    who is who
    i think i love you - i think i love you
    i never thought i was strange
    my genes don't need re-arranging
    when we touched in the street
    my body and soul felt complete
    i think i love you - i think i love you
    yet you're a man
    it wasn't the plan
    'cause i am straight
    let others hate
    'cause i am me
    and you are you
    and does it matter
    who is who
    i love you - i love you
    ---
    And here - if anyone's interested - is the rough recording.
  9. 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.
  10. Camy
    'tis a beautiful sunny day, even though it started off with a frost.
    I'm looking at this:

    which is rather nice, except I'm trying to hate it as I'm selling up ....
    ... and I'm just off to play with M.
    Playing with one's true love is ... well pretty damn fun, especially as he's such a good keyboard player. He's just got a new guitar, which I get to strum, and apparently he's written a new song, too: so that should be good.
    The cat says hello, as do her Mum and brothers.
    Ave, peeps.
    Camy
  11. Camy
    So ... I said I was going to write an entry a day. Ha. Stupid me, and more fool you for reading.
    Umm ... It snowed the day before yesterday, then yesterday, as if by magic - but really because of the sun - the snow vanished. Amazing.
    And now I feel I must go and watch The Simpsons.
    WooT!
    edited to add:
    listen to this - Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds - Dig Lazarus Dig
  12. Camy
    I love well made spoofs, and this is funny as hell. Sadly, you have to join the site - but do, it's well worth it. :)
    Masturbation!
  13. 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.
  14. 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
  15. 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*
  16. 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
  17. 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
  18. Camy
    There's a series on TV at the moment called 'Ice Road Truckers,' about the supply of sub-arctic diamond mines in Alaska. Because they are all well away from civilisation, roads, and the other side of a plethora of lakes, they have to wait until winter, when the lakes freeze, to get supplies trucked in. It's a two month season - then the ice melts.
    When I was growing up the one high risk high - reward job around, was working on the oil rigs in the north sea. I had friends who earned enough in a year to buy a house. Then it was South American construction, then oil exploration in Russia.
    The idea of earning $50,000 plus - in two months, appeals. A lot. But, having been to the Arctic, I know I don't like the cold. Hmm. Sooo tempting, and probably - if you avoid frostbite - big fun, too.
  19. 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?).
  20. 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
  21. Camy
    Today I hate the world.
    Fecking women who drive small Nissans and who think they have the right to drive down the outside of a stationary line of traffic, and then cut in. I might have been vaguely amused if she'd been pretty, or if she'd have been a he, and cute. But nooooo.
    There was a thread in the news forum (which got well out of hand) that strayed into the rights and wrongs of gun control. All I have to say on the matter is that, with fecking Nissan tart, I suffered a serious amount of angst which verged on road rage. Had I had a gun - concealed or not - I might well have used it. Lucky it is I live in the UK. As it was I so so nearly rammed her. I'm normally mild mannered, but today I came very close to losing it.*
    My neighbour's on the list, too. Shan't go there, I've just got my blood pressure back to earth. Git.
    It's lovely weather, so I can't blame my mood on Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'm tempted to pack a bag and vanish. If I could morph the cat into a dog I might well, but cats don't like tramping the country: especially if they don't have a hot monitor to lie on top of.
    Hey ho, and life goes on.
    Camy
    * Falling Down
  22. Camy
    Having nothing better to do - it's not that I don't 'cause I do, but hell, if I don't make time for some plaintive whining, where would I be?
    So, yeah. M. The one I love. The one, this afternoon, I wanted to beat about the head with a wet kipper. We were rehearsing, as you do, and .... Oh, poop. What's the point. I'll find a fish monger in the morning.
    Night.
    Camy
  23. 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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