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Camy

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Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. Camy

    The world of Emu

    By Camy,

    I ain't blogged in an age, so seeing as how I'm in the mood I thought I would.
    I'm now past halfway in my NaNoWriMo tale 'Harvest Time', which started out being one thing and has now turned into something else. I still have faith that it will be a good something else, but who knows.
    That's the trouble with being a pantser. One the one hand it's like exploring a vast empty city - you're constantly surprised - and on the other you really, really wish you'd thought about it a bit before you set off, and had a map.
    I went through my 'work in progress' folder yesterday, and found a whole slew of stories that I'd forgotten I'd started. It was actually rather nice, 'cause I read them fresh, and with dispassion.
    There are painters who hang up a bunch of canvases, then paint them as they see fit. If they get stuck with one they move on to another - which is all very well, provided at some point you finish them. I feel similar, though I have almost too many half written and not enough close to being finished. Hmm.
    And then there's The Dude! He shocked the hell out of me the other day, by saying he wanted me to be part of the AD Family of sites. I don't have a webcam, so he missed the point where I fell off my chair and hastily dusted myself off. He also missed the dance I did ... which was like this - but for one:

    The cats told me it was 'entertaining'.
    Then - 'cause I'm a total moron with money, my bank hates me, and I couldn't do it myself - Dude organises camysgaff.com. There was a repeat of the falling off the chair followed a dance thing. Though this time cats stalked off shaking their heads.
    The best thing was that when I woke up the next morning, it wasn't all a dream!
    Back to 'Harvest Time'
    Camy
  2. Camy
    Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck!
    I should be at 23k words and I'm only at 15k. This does not bode well. Not well at all. Still, one has to try and be positive... it's almost dark, it's cold, I need coffee but can't be arsed to go downstairs and make it. Dear lord, send an angel, fastest.
    I suppose I should resort to a picture of the cat:

     
  4. Camy

    Musing about November

    By Camy,

    I'm trying to figure out what to write in November. It's hard, because generally I get an idea and off I gallop - which is NOT the way to set about writing anything of great length, e.g.: a novel. It didn't work with Seraph, and it hasn't worked for the last few NaNoWriMo's I've taken part in. I've ended up knackered and with a part finished piece I never seem to get round to finishing. Don't get me wrong; I think some of what I've written has been okay, but short stories seem to suit me better.
    Last night I had the idea to use this NaNo to continue last years effort (Hellion), but from another viewpoint. With that in mind I started to re-read it, and was shocked:
    A) by how fresh it seemed - well, it would as I haven't looked at it in months.
    B) by how many stupid mistakes I made when writing - missing out words, bad spelling, awful punctuation.
    C) by how obvious it was becoming that most of what I've been writing is set in and around the same world space.
    The upshot is I have two realistic options. The first is to attempt yet another novel - or novella, and the second is to write a series of short stories. I'm still not sure which to pick.
  5. Camy

    RIP Jamie

    By Camy,

    http://www.thestar.c...article/1072227
    So very, very sad.
    Looking back on my adolescence I find it hard to believe that every little thing was so important and so vital to my happiness. Whether it was waiting for a parcel that arrived a few days late, or a look from a friend that I misinterpreted. From walking into a room and thinking the reason they all stopped talking was because they were talking about me, to reading the cricket scorer's book and seeing that a really hard catch I made had been put down as a 'duck'. Life back then was lived superfast, and yet time also crawled by. And emotions! Emotions were off any kind of rational scale. Yet, luckily, I'm still here.
    I think that the proliferation of the internet, mobile phones and social media has a lot to answer for. Now you can 'out' someone without having time to think it might be the wrong thing to do. If you're an angry adolescent with a mobile - and adolescents are angry a lot - you can fuck someone's life up forever in under 30 seconds - and with a picture, too.
    We are who we are. I'm out if anyone asks, but I don't flaunt it. After all, it's nobodies business but my own. If I was an adolescent now, in 2011, would I be different? I honestly don't know. I think I might be. I might be in the gay soc at school - if my school now has a gay soc. Jamie was apparently open about his sexuality and the fact that that's even possible has to be a step forward in the right direction. That he was bullied is awful, but, sadly, pack mentality and bullying is inherent human nature.
    I don't have any answers and I really wish I did.
    RIP Jamie.
  7. 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!
  8. Camy

    And all is well - mostly.

    By Camy,

    After a fractious and car-less weekend, all is now well. My baby's back, though now her front brake discs are beginning to rub. :(
    It's most strange that not having transport readily available - even if you aren't going to use it - is stressful. I live out in the country and although there is a bus a couple of times a day, and I could walk if needs must, I really did keep looking out of the window and pouting at her empty parking spot. Still, never mind eh, all is back to the way it was ... except for the world's economy, which seems to be rushing ever faster down the pan. Hmm. I hope the two aren't related.
    Oh, and I've discovered mechanics can be quite eye-candilicious!
    Camy
  9. Camy

    A rawky day!

    By Camy,

    I've been feeling really meh recently. Miserable weather does me in, and so far August has been a bleedin' awful month as far as weather is concerned. I'd thought that was it: another poxy English summer crawls to its grotty end ... and then today arrived.
    Today was magical! Today was shorts and t-shirt weather, with a long, long walk on the beach. Of course I should have been sorting out the container, but no chance. The sun pulled me elsewhere.
    The tide was so far out that bones of the wreck of the Amsterdam - a Dutch East Indiaman that sank in 1749 - were visible. This is a rare event, and pulled a large audience of gawpers, including M and me. It was odd to think of the people that lost their lives all those years ago. I think I was expecting to feel something. A frisson, maybe. But no: nothing. Obviously I'm as psychic as a brick.
  10. Camy

    Gorgeous Weather

    By Camy,

    It's gorgeous weather. It makes such a difference to my frame of mind. I'm feeling quite perky, which is good for many reasons, not the least of which is, I hope, my writing. I now have so many part written stories it's not funny. Just to finish one would be a wondrous delight, yet I'm beginning to wonder if I've 'shot my bolt'.
    Virtually everything I've written has been written during 'bad' times. I wrote to escape the stress. Now I'm not so stressed I'm finding it really difficult to write anything. Dunno. Perhaps worrying about writing is going to stress me out to the degree I come up with a peach (I like peaches).
    Or perhaps I need to change my perspective, somehow .... Or stop whining and just get on with it. ;)
    Rehearsals are okay, but not brilliant. The problem is we're getting so damn fed up with the damn set. I saw Bob Dylan an age ago and never understood why he'd start playing a song - then stop eight bars in and start another one. Now I do. He's probably banished beds made of brass on pain of death. Still, a gig is a gig, and I'm much looking forward to it.
    I hope it doesn't rain.
  11. Camy

    Weird week

    By Camy,

    This is one weird week.
    I've received both an awful bit of news - in that The Hub is closing, and a great bit of news - in that I've made Dude's pick for July with my short story: 'JJ and The Boys.'
    First, The Hub. Rob and Kitty followed a dream, and built a small, but vibrant community. They went through awful trials, worthy of Greek myth, and finally won through. Then ... stuff happened, and Kitty left. Rob carried on for a while, but he has a life to lead and rightly decided that enough was enough. They were my friends, and Kitty my mentor and editor. Now they've gone, and I'm saddened. Truly saddened. The only upside is that Rob will have some space, and hopefully, he can start writing again.
    As Richard Attenborough said in Jurassic Park "Life will find a way." And to get a Dude's Pick has ... erm ... Picked me up. :)
    Thanks Dude!
    Camy
  12. Camy

    Me, Myself, I pt XXVI

    By Camy,

    Umm. I had a reason to blog, but it seems to be escaping me at the moment. Most odd.
    Anyway ... so I found a box of Cassettes that had - once I dug an old cassette machine out of the loft and found a lead to attach it to the computer - some amazing AMAZING stuff on them. Like the rehearsal at Solid Light where I fell asleep over the drum kit in the middle of a song. Hmm, I suppose gouched out is closer to the truth: it was a long time ago. Then there are the first few recordings I made with M. Before we erm ... well, before he told me he umm ... loved me.
    Times and places are wonderful. I only wish I'd made a few more sensible decisions. Arse I am.
    When we were in Germany I recorded everything. I'd set up the desk, fire up the Atari and keyboards, plug in the guitar and ... what a load of crap!
    Though there are a few tracks I'm inordinately proud of. A few that have stood the test of time.

  13. Camy

    Meh 4,271

    By Camy,

    Meh 4,271
    Why are all my blog entries so ... depressing? I'm not normally a depressed person, but then I suppose there is no normality to my life any more. I feel like I'm drifting - oh for a boat - and have entered the doldrums. The sails are up, but *insert deity of choice* has switched of the wind. The fucker.
    Shoulda, woulda, coulda. That's all I can think of. And I'm sooooo tempted to pack a bag, and vanish. Yeah right. Not like it's going to happen. But the thought is like a lifeline. The idea that I could. Disappear.
    When I was small I read George Orwell's 'Down and out in Paris and London.' It's a wonderful, wonderful book - provided you're reading it with a full stomach, in a cosy room, with a warm drink to hand. I also read 'The Autobiography of a Super Tramp'. The idea is rather appealing ... but the actuality. Maybe twenty years ago.
    Maybe tomorrow ....
    I just do not know. And there lies the problem. I'm surrounded by idiots, but the biggest idiot looks back at me from the mirror. I should never have given up drugs. At least they dull the constant yearning for ...? Yep. The grass is always greener.
    So, I'm going to have another go at NaNoWriMo. If anyone feels up to taking part I can honestly say it's BIG FUN!
    Now, I'm off to steal a kiss from my beloved ... hmm ... take a kiss? Have a kiss? Kiss? Whatever. It'll be nice.
    Camy
    PS if you haven't read Jason Rimbaud's 'The Finale', then do. It's excellent, though sad.
  14. Camy
    I love my car, I really do. She's a little silver-grey Renault Clio and goes for miles on very little petrol - which is a boon with petrol at nearly ?5 ($9) a gallon. Yes, she's done me proud ... until late Friday afternoon when her clutch cable snapped. I won't repeat the words we had as I drove her (double de-clutching is a doddle if you don't value your gears) in first and second all the way to M's. Sighing, he then drove me home in a borrowed 3.5 litre BMW that was built when petrol was A LOT cheaper. Comfy? Yes. Expensive? You better believe it!
    It's odd that garages don't like to work on Friday afternoons. Or saturday mornings, either. So tomorrow I have to get up at the crack of sparrows and schlep into town. Bollocks.
    ---
    My first story in an age and a half is up. It's called Dearly Beloved, and I hope you like it!
    ---
    'Fringe' Rawks! Kinda like The X Files on speed with Pacey. A good first offering - though I haven't seen J.J. Abrams signature Polar Bear, yet. 😞
    Ave,
    Camy
  15. Camy

    Tooooooooooo much

    By 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!!!!

  16. Camy

    Ice Road Truckers

    By 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.
  17. 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.
  19. Camy
    Today, I've spent a lot of time berating the cat. She seems to get great pleasure out of waltzing over the keyboard. She also sits on it when I'm making coffee - which means removing rows and rows of odd letters. H seems to be popular, as is K.
    Other than that it's going well. I'm almost at 8,000 words. I'm hoping they might make sense, too. Who knows?
    Later.
  20. Camy

    Cheer up Shelley.

    By Camy,

    I spend a lot of time bemoaning the fact that I'm not doing what I should be doing; cursing the mistakes I've made, my bone idleness ... and then wondering what it actually is that I should have been doing in the first place. Daft, huh?
    Anyway, when I get in one of those frames of mind I read this poem: which knocks sense back into my thick skull. After all: we only have the one shot. We might as well enjoy it, no matter what. ;)
    Ozymandias
    by Percy Byshe Shelley (1792-1822)
    I met a traveller from an antique land
    Who said:?Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
    Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
    Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
    And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
    Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
    Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
    The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
    And on the pedestal these words appear:
    "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
    Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
    Nothing beside remains: round the decay
    Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
    The lone and level sands stretch far away.
    ---
  21. Camy
    So ... CERN's Large Hydron Collider has been switched on, and amazingly, the world is still here, and still in one piece.
    Having recovered from cowering in the corner and attempting to kiss my bottom goodbye (why anyone would want to kiss their own bottom is beyond me) I find that a lot of people were really, Really worried about it.
    I guess if my Dad had told me the world might be ending I'd have been worried, too. Though I'd probably have tried to use it as an excuse to not do homework.
    Admittedly they haven't got to the real experiments yet, and as they won't be starting until next year, I'll have time to practise my bottom kissing technique ... hmm.
    Anyway, here is a link to the 'turn on'. Do watch the movie, it's ... well, riveting.
    This is well worth watching. It's Steven Hawking. Will he or won't he win his $100 bet?
    Reassuring children about the world's end
  22. Camy

    16 - should be 25

    By Camy,

    Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!
    Get the idea? I do. It means buckle down and get bleedin' writin' in some obscure dialect of lesser Engrish.
    Mmmm goody, will do, then.
    C x
  25. Camy

    Bickering with other half

    By 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

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