Tag Archives: short story

This week, Monday 20th May 2013

by

0

Spain? That’s A Different Country.

Chavs

Last week was pretty hectic (for me) – Monday evening teaching improv, Tuesday evening doing improv, I don’t remember Wednesday, Thursday evening doing improv and Friday evening I was in a TV coma. Saturday I got up early to go and compere Derby’s Knickerbocker Glorious event. Then returned to a TV coma. Phew. This week will be slightly less busy, which means might even get some stuff done.

The long awaited training phase has kicked in at work, although I’m delivering the least because of my other mind-numbing, stress-inducing tasks. It’s a relief to finally be approaching the end (of the beginning). At the very least, training is time out of the office and away from people driving you insane because of their own solipsistic narcissism. In the training room, you mine bitch (sorry, it’s a film hangover). We had quite a lot of fun in Fridays’s event, so it was a good end to variably shitty week. I find that I lead two lives – daytime and evening and I become very resentful when the day bleeds into night.

♥ This week’s scribbles

Tuesday Gig Report: Knickerbocker Glory #1

I love the fabulously talented people I get to work with, so I figured you’d probably like them too.

Wednesday Things I Love: #1 My Marmalade Badger

We have a cat, she is adorable.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Nine: The Abyss, She Cries So Sweet

In the darkness there’s always something listening to you breathe.

Friday Book Review: The Air War (Shadows of the Apt Book Eight) by Adrian Tchaikovsky (2012)

This is one of the best series I’ve ever read.

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

My increased day and evening activity is doing nothing for my writing productivity. I am having to be very disciplined just to get the next chapter of The Desert Crystals done. I am pleased to note that it’s now at part 9, which makes it the longest thing I’ve written in a very long time. It is also sooooo far off course right now that it’s going to take at least that many words to get it back on track.
Last week’s scribbles

Desert Crystals1Tuesday Shankicide: Shivving with Death Poetry What’s a little angry poem between friends?

Wednesday Lego Blog: Lunchtime Building It’s a good way to fill the middle of the day.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Eight: Running Blind  Lost and alone in a cave. Doesn’t sound promising.

Friday Film Review: Iron Man 3 (2013) Brilliant fun.

Lego

Aaaaaah, the sweet schinkle of Lego bricks. I have finally roofed the ‘Boba Fett’ house I’ve been tinkering with for weeks. It now does not fit on the shelf. This is an annoyance. However I am now able to move on with the general decoration and camouflage I have in mind. It’s still going to be some weeks of half-hours before it’s fit for presentation mind.

While in Derby on Saturday, we took our pal Martin to the toy shops in the enormous labyrinth that is the Westfield centre. I have previously become entirely lost within its perplexing mirrored shapes. There’s a decent The Entertainer in there (as there is in Nottingham, but since we usually only get into Nottingham on a Sunday we can’t go in as they have a rather backward religious attitude to being open on that most useful of days). That has a decent range of Lego, including the new Lego Friends series 2 animal sets. They have a Lego hedgehog! Awesome. We also went to the more impressive Toy Planet which packs a metric fucktonne of stuff into a very small shop. We stared at the Lego wall for some time…. Eventually I emerged with just the Lego Monster Fighters ‘Swamp Monster’ who has great eyes.

Improv Comedy

On Monday Parky and I met the 9 brave souls who are doing the MissImp Improv Beginners course. They’re ace! And also one of the most awesomely diverse groups I’ve worked with. We all very much enjoyed the first session and it was really interesting to see people begin to emerge from their shells. I was also impressed by the speed with which folk assimilated ‘yes and’. We’ll see if it’s stuck during the week…
Incandescent rage on Tuesday meant that I could only attend Fisticuffs for a little while, but we did some lovely scenes off a monologue by Ben about Warhammer “bear me aloft” is my new catchphrase. In any event it did a good job of chilling me out.

Media Intake

Books

I finished The Air War which is why I’m reviewing it this week. I’ve moved on to a really peculiar little tome by Louis Sachar called The Cardturner. It is very much about Bridge (the card game) and the need to inherit money from one’s richer family members. I’m finding it intriguing although the Bridge talk is blowing my mind. I really struggle to learn and remember how to play any card game; I’ve no idea why – I suspect I just don’t care enough to; but Bridge is well, gosh… complex. The author has a lovely device of a whale image preceding a long description of the game (read it yourself to find out why) so you can skip it if you wish and just read the summary at the end of the chapter. It’s a clever way to keep the reader (me) engaged by colluding with my intellectual laziness.

Films

Well, Star Trek: Into Darkness was awful. I tried to enjoy it while it was on, but it made me cringe throughout. It’s dialogue is scarcely better than Fast and Furious 6. Seriously. Both are terrible, but the latter made me laugh a lot more (which seemed to upset the very earnest teens watching the film at Cineworld Nottingham). To fully explore why the new Star Trek film is so bad would take me several hours. I think for now I’ll just go for painfully lazy, disappointingly predictable and well, disappointing.

Chris Pine is still a strikingly poor actor and (unrelated to the film) you can see the future fat man already breaking out of his face. Oh, and Simon Pegg. I usually like the chap, but he is a terrible Scotty. Oh, I’m ranting. Oh well… The entire cast is outacted by Benedict Cumberbatch who plays the largely emotionless but occasionally enraged (oh, it’s going to be Khan isn’t is? It can’t be. That would be too fucking stupid and lazy. Oh no.) Khan. It’s alright though, he’s swiftly defeated because he’s not really the villain (that’s Robocop) and sigh… Finally it ends and the credit sequence shows lots of more exciting and interesting planets.

Television

Extreme exhaustion pushed me to stare at the TV on Friday and Saturday nights to catch up to only a week or so behind with our favourite brain-killers. I’m enjoying the current series of Doctor Who. The more alien Matt Smith’s character becomes the more I like him. We saw Neil Gaiman’s Cyberman episode with the lovely cyberworms and cybermind – it was a nice version of Star Trek: The Next Generation’s Best of Both Worlds with the Borgified Jean-Luc Picard. Funnier though.

We’re also catching up with our crop of US crime ‘dramas’: The Mentalist is still ticking over well as the search for Red John continues. I do love watching Patrick Jane destroying any chance at conviction due to entrapment and manipulation. It’s a nice skeptical programme which challenges a lot of magical thinking and parasitic frauds. NCIS now has Jamie Lee Curtis in it! We were surprised, but pleased to see Gibbs maybe get a new ‘head of PsyOps’ girlfriend. Most wonderfully, Justified is back with numerous bangs. This is series 4 I think and it still delights me as much as Deadwood did – having a similar cast helps, but mostly it’s the delightfully lyrical dialogue that I love the most; rarely have shootouts and gang bosses spoken so poetically.

Events and Excitement

MissImp in Action – Friday 31st May

8.30pm at The Glee Club, Nottingham.
High energy improvised comedy show.

Weeks That Have Come Before

The Desert Crystals – Part Eight: Running Blind

by

0

Part 8 - Running Blind

Desert Crystals1

The scream, when it came, echoed limply from the damp walls and squeaked back into Jacob’s ears. He had awoken, as if from a terrible dream – bound tightly in sweat-soaked sheets, the stench of his own fear and clammy limbs as oppressive as the nightmare from which he’d escaped – into a darkness that even the cellars of his grandfather had never conjured as punishment for misbehaviour. It was when he recalled that he was a man, a man lost in the air, kidnapped by a frightful beast and stolen away into this lightless place in the heart of an impossible mountain that the scream began to work its way up his throat. As the memories flashed forwards he retched, remembering the sensations that immediately preceded his flight into unconsciousness.

Discovering that he could not open his mouth, nor tell if his eyes were open save by scratching at them with sweaty fingers, only urged on the screams so desperate to escape from his tortured throat. Jacob convulsed with fear, snapping away the bonds that held him kneeling in place. Brittle edges scraped his shoulders and knees as he staggered upright and promptly fell backwards, landing on what felt like broken branches. He reeled back from that and fell. He did not fall far, but those few moments stretched into an eternity before he smacked down on a hard, dusty surface.

Jacob gasped for the breath that was knocked out of him and clawed at his face. A thickly congealed layer of awful viscous slime lay across his mouth. Jacob tore it shudderingly from his lips and teeth, gagging as he ripped gelatinous stalactites that had formed inside his mouth. His breathing ragged he peeled the stuff more carefully from his eyes, easing the jellied tears from under his eyelids and casting it as far from where he crouched as possible.  He just squatted there for a minute, catching his breath.

Whatever had bound him before forcing it’s ghastly droolings upon his face had released him, or he had broken past it somehow. Were it not for the gooey skin he’d found on his face he might have been able to convince himself that he’d imagined the leathery wings and clawtips holding him down, that he had just snared himself in a bush (assuming there were bushes in these caves) and panicked. He certainly had had good reason to panic.

Looking around himself now, into the total darkness and feeling the dank heat of the place release moisture from his pores Jacob figured he still had good reason to panic now. He was lost, untold tunnels separated him from the outside and the outside itself and thousands of feet of air kept his own world at bay.

Still, Jacob was a practical lad – the Bublesnatch clan were of good stock in his home town of Ortheria and his grandfather’s strict discipline had encouraged him to learn many things (avoiding being caught was not one of them, and this most recent experience would scarcely have surprised the old man). Although he would probably not enjoy such sport in future, he had taken some pleasure in exploring the warrens of Host Lizards in the foothills of the Corrigible Mountains in whose shadows Ortheria prospered. They were a curious species who dedicated much time to digging holes and burrows with small cairns at surface level to indicate that the space was available for use. Many travellers took advantage of the beasts’ benevolence and used them as waystations or hostels. Some of the Guest Burrows were linked with a tunnel complex and Jacob had lost and found himself many times.

He tried to ignore the fact that he could not see and that unknown horrors lurked in the shadows. He closed his useless eyes and focussed on what he could hear. That deep breathing sound which his speeding heart had blurred was back, like the whole place was one huge rocky lung. It came and went, was louder and quieter as he turned on the spot, crouching and standing to get some conception of the space around him. Eyes still closed Jacob took a cautious step forwards, and another. A faint draught licked at his damp skin and encouraged fractionally swifter perambulation.

As he held closed his eyes he became aware of their continued irritation. He must have failed to extract some portion of that vile substance that still gummed up his eye lashes and brows. Damn but it itched. Absently he rubbed at his eye with a closed fist, but the itch only grew. Jacob tutted to himself and slapped the aggravating hand with his other, his grandfather’s chiding in mind. Instead he blinked heavily, attempting to force out whatever strand or sliver of ooze was caught round the ball of his eyes. His stepping faltered with the effort until he found himself pressing both palms to his eye sockets to squeeze out the prickling and prevent his further scratching. It felt like his eyes were alive and writhing within their skulled cups. He swore he could feel them like a bag of worms under his palms, rippling inside his squashed eyelids.

The distraction never quite prevented him from staggering in what he thought was almost a straight line. Each step was slow and wavered before touching the ground, as if through increased height he could relieve the pressure on his lidded orbs. Had he not been so abstracted he might have noticed when his right foot failed to find the floor in its usual place. If anything, beginning to fall forwards mashed his eye with greater satisfaction against his hand, and it was when the rest of him followed his foot over the hidden edge that he realised the error.

Next Week: Part 9 – The Abyss She Cries So Sweet 

In the same series:

This week, Monday 13th May 2013

by

0

I Tawt I Taw A Busy Cat

Pudding MittensMy mistake – now I am busy! Last week was filled with the stressful misunderstandings that employment seems intended for. As such – not a lot of fun. Boo and tits to that. Next week looks to be far more full of activity, in addition to whatever diurnal nonsense transpires. I start teaching the next MissImp Improv Beginners course on Monday (with m’pal Parky) which will be ace but does further compress the week’s free time. I shall maintain my schedule!

What with all that marvellousness I’m saddened to say that I am already returning to a largely zero alcohol existence in order to remain sane and healthy. I am disappointed by this, not least because I adore the bottle of Singleton I opened this week. Oh well, at least the Bavaria 0.0% alternative I’ve settled on is only 25p per can…

Something that did sadden me this week was news of Ray Harryhausen’s death. It’s rare that I use the word tragedy, but that’s how his death feels. Although I have not one skill in common with the great man, his films have always inspired me and when I think of monsters, they are his.

♥ This week’s scribbles

Tuesday Shankicide: Shivving with Death Poetry

Back to a few poems of gentle frustration.

Wednesday Lego Blog: Lunchtime Building

Some people relax at work by going outside; I have a travelling Lego case.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Eight: Running Blind

Darkness has swallowed the crew of The Dove’s Eye

Friday Film Review: Iron Man 3 (2013)

Ron’s back! And he has friends as well as splendid new enemies.

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

I like a good old rant and normally I turn to Shankanalia to achieve that, but the week before last some stuff happened that really crawled up my urethra. What I found pleasing about ranting in this case was how diverse the subject felt. Before I knew it I’d banged out a thousand words on the stuff – hence last Tuesday’s sort-of-essay on Interpretation. I’m concerned that continuing to find space even for the little writing I’m doing at the moment is going to get harder – how do other people keep it up?! (And why is there no interrobang key on my keyboard?)

This week I hope to steer The Desert Crystals more or less back on course. This nasty skywards turn was never part of the story! I guess that’s why people plan ahead. My stories always feel to me much more like the stuff I do on stage with MissImp.

Last week’s scribbles

Desert Crystals1Storytelling at The Glee ClubTuesday Autofiction: Accusation and Prejudice Context and judgement afflict us all, how should we make decisions?

Wednesday Live Storytelling: A Story from MissImp in Action When I get to monologise on stage it gets weird, quickly.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Seven: This Hellish Hole Darkness has swallowed the crew of The Dove’s Eye.

Friday Film Review: Olympus Has Fallen (2013) It’s Die Hard in the White House!

Lego

Lego Boxes1As I mentioned last week I’ve been mostly fingering my bricks at lunchtime. Well, that and having a jolly good re-sort over the weekend when I found another suitable box. Categorising your Lego really does bring out the OCD in a person.It’s insanely satisfying to sift through the boxes, removing colours and shapes to whatever insane demands your organising brain screams at you. I go mainly by colour, or utility of colour. I’m very fond of woodland stuff, so greens and browns all get mixed in together. Blacks and greys (all 20 shades) get separated out, as do white and tan. I also segregate little fiddly bits that I think might come in useful, and when I’m building that can become rather full. Primary colours I use least of all and am least fond of so they get heaped up together.

I have much more time for the pastel stuff of Lego Friends, but I don’t have enough to justify a separate box. What shall I do?! Oh, there’s a missing box as well – I keep oddments of minifig accessories, transparent parts and well, things I like in another box. I’m limited to what I can stuff under the sofas, although a worrying amount is currently in models at present. And Jabba’s Palace and a LoTR set remain unopened upstairs…

Improv Comedy

Due to rage last week I missed Fisticuffs – probably for the best as I wasn’t fit for company. We did have Gorilla Burger though which seemed to go well. It’s evidence of my broken mind that I couldn’t tell whether it was going well at the time. I am now better. Excitingly we begin the Improv Beginners course this week. We have a dinky group of 7 so far, and it would be nice to get 8 or 9 but if not, those delightful 7 will have a lot of attention lavished on them. Woop. I’ve taught lots of introductory workshops and endless weekly jams but I’ve never had this particular intensity of time with a group. I’m looking forwards to it.

Media Intake

Books

The_Air_WarI could resist no longer. I tried to, but I could not. I finally succumbed to the allure of The Air War. I’m so glad I did, Adrian Tchaikovsky’s eighth book in the Shadows of The Apt series is heartbreakingly awesome. The battles are magnificent and the emerging weaponry is terrifying. I’m very afraid even more of my favourite characters will die. I’m also afraid that I’ll read it too quickly, so I am absurdly limiting myself to only reading it in the evening. I recently acquired the first book Empire in Black and Gold on Kindle (I have all of them in paper) so I can re-read that at my leisure.

Films

I saw Avatar again on TV this weekend. God, it’s awful. Not only did its effects appear to have dated really badly, but it was quickly evident just how shallow and weakly done the story is. The characters are of almost no interest and it’s so predictable and so much a muted rip off of many other films – Pocahontas being the most notorious comparison. Personally I think Ferngully was better.

A much better rewatch was X-Men First Class. I loved it at the cinema (in quality it managed to achieve somewhere between X-Men 1 and X-Men 2 – we shall not speak of X-Men 3), and I think it’s maybe even more enjoyable at home. It was very pleasing to see young Professor X and Magneto hanging out in bars. It’s shot like a ’70s movie but with modern pace and sensibilities, which really makes it pack a punch. I believe the next one is just around the corner.

Events and Excitement

Knickerbocker GloriousKnickerbocker Glorious – Saturday 18th May

11:00am – 3:00pm at The Fountain, Cathedral Quarter, Derby.
Music, pirate tales and more. All free, all outdoors.

MissImp in Action – Friday 31st May

8.30pm at The Glee Club, Nottingham.
High energy improvised comedy show.

Weeks That Have Come Before

The Desert Crystals – Part Seven: This Hellish Hole

by

0

Part 7 - This Hellish Hole

Desert Crystals1

The night reached out and bit the airship out of the world. The moon’s radiance cut off immediately and even the ship lamps seemed to gutter with the shock. They returned hesitantly, and held a weaker luminance than before. Although Rosenhatch Traverstorm trusted the captain to know the dimensions of his vessel the hole had appeared all too small. He and the crew had all cringed as the captain unerringly steered the huge balloon and gondola into the cave. To his credit he had already reversed the velocity engines while they were some way out and they drifted gently into the waiting maw.

The terrific swarm of clawing monsters that bedevilled their flight were vivid silhouettes against the glowing exterior. The pistoliers and riflemen continued to gun them down; their centipede companion braced his forelimbs against the rail and directed the rotating barrels of his enormous battery gun towards their enemies, exploding them into tatters. The tremendous roar of Harvey’s carapace mounted machine gun slowed and reduced to irregular shouting. The cannon whined to a halt and the crew’s individual pistol shots were distinct once again. They too tapered off till the crew stood quiet and still on deck. The creatures had withdrawn as the airship drifted further from the outside world. The cave mouth had shrunk dramatically – as Traverstorm proved to himself, raising his hand outstretched in front of him. He abandoned the view, leaving half of the crew maintaining their vigilance at the rear, to join the rest peering into the absolute blackness ahead.

The dark was peerless. Nothing was visible. The lanterns shrank from the gloom, which was irritating as that only made the darkness more complete. Nonetheless Traverstorm squinted, in the vain hope that some light might be forthcoming from deep within the sky cliff. Harvey’s heavy tread announced his presence, the repeating monster on his back causing him to sway more than usual.

“Perhaps they are afraid of the dark,” he joked, jocularly jabbing Traverstorm with his right mandible.

“Hmm,” murmured his friend,” I do wonder if we ought to be…”

Jasparz, the captain’s aide, joined them at the rail. “Lord Emmaline requests your counsel gentlemen.” The crew took an automatic step or two backwards as Harvey’s repeating cannon lurched over them, even though the crank handle hung untouched to his side.

Lord Emmaline was busy lighting a cigar. The glowing tip added a fraction more light to the darkness.

“Good instincts Lord Emmaline,” commented Traverstorm, accepting one of the captain’s cigars (which he himself had brought aboard), “we seem to be safe from them for now.”

“Unless they’re now massing within, preparing to come upon us from all directions,”

“We’re not likely to see them coming,” Harvey chipped in, “but this place is curious. It has the most unusual emanations.” His final pair of legs, which pointed directly behind him quivered and twitched gently.

“Harvey’s kind are highly sensitive to vibration,” Traverstorm offered in response to Lord Emmaline’s quirked brow, “his sensitivity is remarkable, and in circumstances such as these will doubtless prove of greater value than our poor sight.”

“The walls, the whole substance of this unusual aerial structure is positively vibrant. Why, it feels as if the whole rock is alive.”

“A roost perhaps? A vast eyrie, like the ghastly shite-spattered cliffs of Grimdown – only within the hollows rather than on the cliff itself. This must be the resting and probably breeding space for the species. Where else could they fly to? This may be the only object of its sort in the sky. A rare species – indigent solely to this bizarre honeycombed mountain…” Traverstorm’s eyes glazed over as the evolutionary possibilities of the curious cliff bedazzled him.

Lord Emmaline was not so blinded and whilst the explorer pondered he stuffed his pistol into its holster and directed Jasparz to maintain their present cautious course.

“Fix the lamps at fullest extension lads,” he called out through his clenched cigar.

The crew unfolded the hidden booms, stretching an extra set of lights out as far as they would go. They seemed even dimmer out there, but the combined radiance produced a faint reflection off the sides of the cavern, just barely enough to be sure they were not on an immediate collision course. With the oppressive darkness held at bay Lord Emmaline grew conscious of the dank heat that surrounded them as surely as the dark.

“So now what?” asked Traverstorm.

“While I was briefly torn between remaining here or reversing our route and facing that endless horde once more, I believe we ought to follow our intent – to find young Jacob Bublesnatch and rescue him from this hellish hole.”

“Splendid. Harvey here believes he can use his sensitivity to the queer vibrations to at least partly map out the warren that we’re presently plumbing.”

Indeed, the giant centipede had unrolled a large sheet of paper and was even now deftly manipulating a pair of charcoal pencils to plot out the network of tunnels. Beside the sketch he added florid tables of personal symbolism depicting depth of vibration, intensity and irregularities he could detect.

“We shall shortly come upon a vertical passage which looks to lead further into the heart of this place. Given the lack of denizens thus far I’d speculate that they cluster tightly as far from the outer reaches as possible. There we might well discover our missing night watch mate.”

“Excellent,” declared their captain, “I want two men on top of the main frame in five minutes. Take your safeties and pistols. Contact us as soon as you reach the top,” the crew exchanged worried looks and a series of surreptitious ‘rock-paper-scissors’ were soon underway. Lord Emmaline turned back to Harvey and Traverstorm, “there’s a platform above the bag’s frame. I’ll have them spot for us from up there.” A pair of men bounded up the rigging and vanished into the gloom.

“I do hope they took lights with them,” remarked Traverstorm.

“They’ll be fine. Capable fellows,” Lord Emmaline’s response seemed dreadfully glib when with a scream, one of the two men plummeted past the railing and into the depths, “perhaps a little hasty with the knots though.”

Next Week: Part 8 – Running Blind 

In the same series:

This week, Monday 6th May 2013

by

0

Summertime and Living Is Queasy

Zoetrope1The weeks flash by like crudely animated horses in a Kinder Egg zoetrope. Consequently I can barely recall what I’ve been doing… it was a quiet week in the evenings at any rate and a modicum of progress has been made. A modicum ain’t much no matter how you quantise it. I’m going to assume I did loads and that the sheer weight of effort has overwhelmed my primitive memory.

This has been my last zero alcohol week too… I am disturbed to find that there are a few of those beers that I really do like. The last one I came across was Bavaria 0.0%. It’s delicious. Even better it’s sold at the insane, face-slapping-awake price of £1.50 for 6 330ml cans. That’s cheaper than any other soft drink I can think of. It’s about to become my regular non-beer drink for the summer. Seriously that price blows my mind. It has a creamy smooth texture which I suppose is most like cream soda. I’m sitting in the cinema with two of them set to accompany Iron Man 3…

♥ This week’s scribbles

Tuesday Autofiction: Accusation and Prejudice

Context and judgement afflict us all, how should we make decisions?

Wednesday Live Storytelling: A Story from MissImp in Action

When I get to monologise on stage it gets weird, quickly.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Seven: This Hellish Hole

Darkness has swallowed the crew of The Dove’s Eye

Friday Film Review: Olympus Has Fallen

It’s Die Hard in the White House!

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

I’m chasing myself to keep up at the moment. The mornings are a time of blind gaping until shower and coffee are absorbed. Maybe I need to get up earlier… Hmm. But yeah, I spent last week catching up. I didn’t write The Desert Crystals Part 6 until Wednesday evening. I just didn’t manage to start it earlier. I suspect it might be a bit weaker than some of the other chapters. I will do better! Once I’d found the time it wasn’t a struggle to write, which remains encouraging and enjoyable. I fancy the prospect of this becoming a very long running series, though that might make it tricky to catch up with should someone come into it half way through. Sorry!

They say you should write what you know. I’ve never decided if that limits or exposes you – I think it can be both. Clearly what I write about are not events that I have or could have experienced, but I do try to write my characters in ways that I can conceive of. Their feelings are sometimes mine, and their reactions and responses are, as in improv, things that I can imagine doing or saying. Whether another person can know that this this is the case, or guess it from what’s given in stories and these autobiographical bits is unclear to me.

Last week’s scribbles

The Desert CrystalsMinifig MadnessTuesday Shankata – Layers of Hatred Accrued Poetically Just a few more angry rantings for you.

Wednesday Lego Lego Blog: Minifigure Madness A little delve into my Lego heap and some playing with hair.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Six: The Sweet Night Air The beasts in the night!

Friday Beer Review: Three Zero Alcohol Beers  Perhaps the final three no alcohol beers I shall ever drink…

Lego

Lunchtime build 1I really enjoyed getting my minifigs out last week (if you know what I mean) and taking pictures of them. Oddly I don’t recall playing with Lego as a child in the same way as I would with Star Wars, Action Force and Transformers toys. It was the building and disassembly I enjoyed. So I think that hour with swapping heads and hair was more than I used to play even back then.

I’ve been taking a travelling case of Lego to work with me for the last week – see the awesome gold Ferrero Rocher box in the picture. It makes for for a very relaxing half hour’s play at lunchtime. I’m not great at relaxing, but the sound the Lego makes as I turn tht case over sparks a flame of joy in my heart. I’m focussing on miniaturisation due to time constraints using a heap of Lego Friends stuff and Lego Chima.

I also watched a couple of Feminist Frequency podcasts recommended by a fellow Lego enthusiast about Lego’s messed up gender segregation. Really interesting and right on the mark. Check ‘em out:

Improv Comedy

No Fisticuffs this week, which was a sadness but a blessed night off too. I ran last week’s improv jam though and tried to fuse what Parky and Lloydie have been focussing on for the last month into something new and cool. My aim was sychronisation of minds, that elusive group mind concept which is tough enough to get with people you know well and a step harder with near-strangers. So it was to be an intimate, intensive affair. I was therefore thrilled when we got abruptly shifted out of our regular space (some art installation thing) and into The City Gallery – a tiny venue. Then twenty people turned up. I could have compromised my plan, I chose not to, except for dropping a warm up game that required three times the space for half as many people.

We played a series of familiar exercises. First a form of rope, in pairs identifying the key groundings for a scene – names, activity, place and feelings. There was a lovely energy and the setups were simple, funny and concise. Next came justification and agreement. I borrowed Jules Munn’s simple “that’s because” exercise, in which every exchange begins with justifying what had just been said. These get hysterical and ridiculous quite quickly. I found mine returned repeatedly to hippy attitudes in the ’60s Odd. Finally we moved on to inspiration, patterns and games: word association in pairs again but spread out through the room. The cycle begins with a statement and the association follows that, responding both to the word that you hear and holdng the initial statement in the back of your mind. Tricky, but it produced a lot of laughter and really interesting patterns and wheels of ideas.

Those exercises and the habits of grounding, justification and inspiration lead into three person sets of scenes. Each set was preceded by a quote from one of three books I’d brought. The trio would then word associate (focussing on each other) until they felt ready to begin the first scene. The three scenes were mostly fairly short, but they all got to the point and were set up quickly and smartly. Whatever we did seemed to work!

Come And Learn…

Mebbe you’d like to improvise too? Well, Parky and I shall be running the next MissImp improv beginners course starting on 13th May for 6 weeks. If you’re interested, and you should be – check out the details here: http://missimp.co.uk/improv-comedy-training-in-nottingham/improv-comedy-courses-in-nottingham/

Media Intake

Books

I finished the second of Terrence Zavecz’ Cretaceous Station novels, Hunter’s Moon. I didn’t enjoy it as much as the first, but I still enjoyed the dinosaurs (feathery!) and the lists of scientific articles at the end of each chapter to back up his research. I moved on to a collection of short stories. Still chewing my way through them. I’ll get back to you when I’ve finished it.

Events and Excitement

Gorilla Burger – Thursday 9th May

7.30pm at The Corner, Nottingham.
Improv for everyone – on stage!

MissImp in Action – Friday 31st May

8.30pm at The Glee Club, Nottingham.
High energy improvised comedy show.

Weeks That Have Come Before

The Desert Crystals – Part Six: The Sweet Night Air

by

0

Part 6 – The Sweet Night Air

The Desert Crystals

Lord Emmaline Corshorn’s airship The Dove’s Eye raced through the night sky, propellers forcing her forward, in hot pursuit of the creature that had torn the nightwatch mate, Jacob Bublesnatch, from the cockpit while they were thousands of feet in the air. The airship had reached unheard of heights – no one knew what might dwell in such a rarefied and chilly band of the atmosphere. The deck was jammed with men – the full complement of crew and passengers gaping at the sight that offered itself to their curiosity.

To those standing agog on deck it seemed as if a black twisting mass were being vomited upon the airship. In reality it was just the caves of a vast floating cliffside disgorging its armada of winged and clawed monsters upon the airship. That didn’t help with the panic. The presence of the Sky Mountain had already shaken the nerves of a superstitious crew, and the frothing flock of teeth and claws heading their way might have inspired a marine crew to abandon ship. But it was a long way down and aeronauts are of sterner stuff.

Still, the crew dallied; agape and with shaking fingers they muttered, shouted and wailed. Their passengers, by way of contrast were engaged in an escalating argument about the nature of the beasts:

“They clearly have wings of skin – see how their shape is so clearly lined by the moon. Therefore they must be mammalian. How else could they retain their body heat?” demanded Rosenhatch Traverstorm.

“Well, first I’d dispute your assertion by the distance over which you judge them. A closer inspection will doubtless reveal their reptilian nature. Furthermore-” Harvey’s critique was interrupted by a bellow from their captain.

“Man your posts for battle!” cried Lord Emmaline, “Jasparz to the armaments – arm the crew.” His words cut through the nervous confusion, his crew swiftly moved to their places and began handing out the airships weapons. He grimly laid his own pistol on the sill of the cockpit and hardened his grip on the wheel.

The creatures flew directly for the speeding airship. To Traverstorm it seemed like just moments before they met. His eyes were fixed on the incursion, spotting and identifying characteristics, comparing them with his encyclopaedic knowledge of beasts known and rumoured. He cursed under his breath as the first of the swarm approached. Their wings were arranged in pairs, with two pairs of black leathery wings beating in alternate rhythm. Beneath and between the wing beats hung long distended bodies, like the tortured thorax and abdomen of a Gorilla Beetle; hanging off them a thrashing mass of jointed tentaculate limbs, viciously clawed, reaching out for the crew. The face… the head seemed nothing but teeth, slavering lips drawn back taut leaving a ring of fangs to thrust forward, ridged larval tongue lashing out – tasting the air.

Traverstorm hunkered down, telescope in hand, between a pair of burly crew toting rifles and gave them a wide-eyed look, “I’d shoot first if I were you.”

The first wave of winged monsters came within reach of the guns; tattered wings and holed bodies spiralled downwards. The crew were admirable shots, but the flock was undeterred. Thicker and heavier they swarmed the airship. Rifle and pistols discharged, killed, were reloaded and found yet more targets. Presumably drawn by the presence of the men on deck, it took the creatures a few waves before they noticed the balloon hanging above the ship. Dozens of them peeled off from the attack to rush, claws extended at the vulnerable bag of gas. The crew kept their shots away from the balloon. Jasparz, the man who had handed out the armaments watched the beasts begin to alight on the ropes and network that bound the airship together. He waited far longer than Traverstorm was comfortable with before finally calling to the captain,

“Now, sir!”

Lord Emmaline grimaced and flipped open a panel on his console, then flicked the pair of switches beneath. A terrific surge of electricity roared through the cables winding about the balloon, and through the sky beasts clinging to them. They convulsed, then dropped steaming out of the air.

“That should deter them. Keep it up lads.”

The crew continued to fire into the horde, but they were relentless. The first of the beasts gripped the rail of the airship and seized a mate by the face. He fired directly into the creature’s body and it fell back, hauling him over the side. His safety rope snapped out, swinging the hapless man under the airship. His mates moved swiftly to reel him back in, but their action left a gap in the line; the creatures filled it. They swarmed into the space, over the bodies of the men engaged in rescuing their friend. Abruptly they were on deck and behind the crew – as well as in front.

Men began to fall under the clawed onslaught and the crew turned to vicious knives and axes for close quarters combat. A violent stuttering roar filled the air and the wave of crawling stabbing monsters exploded in gouts of gore and chitinous flesh. The crew cowered under the slashing rage of the sound, as their foes were cut to ribbons and hurled from the airship. The roar paused, as did the steady chink of brassy shells that bounced off the deck and out into the void. Harvey had rejoined the crew, a massive spinning cluster of barrels bound to his segmented armour. Firing controls were gripped firmly in his foremost appendages and he clacked his mandibles in satisfaction .

“Apologies for the delay gentlemen, this takes some time to strap on,” the centipede stalked up to the centre of the foredeck and let loose with another pounding salvo into the encroaching pack of demons.

“Captain,” cried Traverstorm, clinging to the glassless hole of the cockpit, “we’ll never hold them off here – they can attack on all sides and their numbers seem undiminished.”

“Once more, my gratitude for your keen observation overwhelms my natural irritation at being instructed in the how best to apply saliva to an egg,” Traverstorm had the grace to at least blush, “that is precisely why we are going there-” the captain thrust his arm forwards. Traverstorm followed his finger. It lead to a vast cave that loomed before them. In the heat of battle Traverstorm had barely noticed that they were still heading for the sky mountain. They were now merely a hundred feet from the cliff – it stretched high above and below them, as if they were falling to earth.

“But captain, we have no idea what lies within!”

“We know what’s out here and we can’t survive it for much longer. In there they will be unable to surround us,” he turned from Traverstorm and bellowed to the crew, “Clear the decks! Prepare yourselves!”

The cave mouth yawned over them and they were swallowed, deck, rigging and balloon all.

Next Week: Part 7 – This Hellish Hole

In the same series:

This week, Monday 29th April 2013

by

0

 

I Have Travelled Back In Time From 2542

Another week of gentle hell… work is properly scrambling my brain at the moment – so badly I’d actually forgotten we had a show on Friday until lunchtime. Nicht so good. It is incredible to find that although I only rate myself average in my general IT skills and common sense that our organisation manages to recruit so many below the 50% mark. It shouldn’t be possible. Nonetheless… a week of increasingly stupid questions, inattention and lack of comprehension skills combined to make me wish I was drinking. Speaking of which – it’s my last zero alc week! Hurray!

Aside from that, this has been a good if rather busy week of improv activities and nights out. We  finally celebrated my other half’s birthday – we were severely delayed by the happy acquisition of work, but at last we found a suitable evening on Saturday. Also – had Wednesday out to wave off a good friend who is working in New York for a month. Lucky devil. It’s nice to be out and about but it does make it difficult to get anything done, especially when most of the day is wasted on work… The coming week looks very much like we have only one evening out. Bring on the Lego.

♥ This week’s scribbles

Tuesday Shankata – Layers of Hatred Accrued Poetically

There ain’t nothing like a good bit of spitty rage.

Wednesday Lego Blog: MiniFigs Old and New

Grubbing about in my box I’ve found some lovely older figures.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Six: The Sweet Night Air

The beasts are out! Dare our heroes enter the sky cliffs? (probably)

Friday Beer Review: Three Zero Alcohol Beers

I found more; they’re okay.

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

Zero update. Almost. Since I’ve taken to my five day schedule I’m mainly writing just to keep up with it! That means I’m failing to scribble enough extra stuff to genuinely plan ahead. I don’t know how I’m going to fix that – maybe some evenings at home will help. What has worked for me and writing is setting myself targets. I don’t really have much personal sense of ambition and I am not a ‘driven’ person so normally being told I have to do something matters not a toss to me. It’s weird then that if I set myself a target and promise it to the anonymous wonder of the internet that I feel responsible. So mebbe I need to set myself an additional random 300 word story per week aim…

Last week’s scribbles

The Desert CrystalsFull setTuesday Shanktimonious: Self-Righteous Angry Poetry There ain’t nothing like a good bit of spitty rage.

Wednesday Lego Friends: My Best New Friends For girls? Don’t be so sexist. They’ve got lovely coloured bricks.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Five: The Obsidian Eyrie Will death save young Jacob Bublesnatch, or will the horrors take him?

Friday Book Review: The First Collected Tales of Bauchelain & Korbal Broach by Steven Erikson A delightfully surprising read.

Lego

Holy Legalooza! Series 10 Lego Minifigures are out! I am looking at the 8 of the little devils we’ve acquired so far. It’s going to be one hell of a hunt for Medusa and the wild goose chase Mr Gold. Mwha haha! That’s perhaps too many exclamation marks for so short a paragraph.

I had a lovely time talking about Lego with my pal Parky and his daughter on Saturday. We all like Lego Friends. It’s also nice to show off my Lego to someone who really gets it.

Improv Comedy

We went for some  freeform improv at Fisticuffs on Tuesday which produced a couple of great narratives, including a fun story about a pair of birds with differing attitudes to being watched while mating.  Then we played with the Aliens Vs Predator (AVP) script, which is terrible and produced true strangeness. Very good fun though!

We had a fucking excellent show on Friday at The Glee Club. In part that was due a lovely audience filling up the space and being really responsive, especially to the compering duo of Lloydie plus ‘Voice of  God’ James, but we also had a special guest: the lovely (and diminutive – look at the photo) Heather Urquhart from The Maydays, though we know her best from giving us incredible musical improv workshops with Joe Samuels. It’s an absolute delight and huge tilt to have someone new on stage; we’re still enjoying the freshness of Ben; and Heather made beautiful scenes with the team. I regret not having any scenes with her specifically… sad face. Next time Gadget, next time. Still, I had an especially fun Samurai/Geisha scene with Martin (I was the Geisha!), shouted at Ben, told a time-travelling story and rollercoastered happily with Marilyn in accents and genres! I declare aceness.

MissImp in Action with Heather

(L-R) Me, Ben, Heather, Martin, Marilyn, Lloydie at The Glee Club Nottingham for MissImp in Action

Very soon – in fact in a week or so, Parky and I shall be running the next MissImp improv beginners course. It runs for six weeks on Mondays starting 13th May (we’ll probably skip the bank holiday Monday, but that will be up to the group). It’s the third MissImp beginners course and we’re really looking forwards to spreading what we know like comedy butter onto the minds and souls of a new group of improvisers. If you’re interested, and you should be – check out the details here: http://missimp.co.uk/improv-comedy-training-in-nottingham/improv-comedy-courses-in-nottingham/

Media Intake

Books

I finished off The Heroes of The Valley by Jonathan Stroud; I enjoyed it, especially the consideration of how myth and legend grow but felt it oddly lacked the bite and excitement I was hoping for. Not to be deterred, I plunged into a novella by Neal Asher Snow in the Desert. I think I must have read it before, but it was still a satisfyingly odd little scifi tale of one albino whose testicles are desired by others. As I said, it’s been a busy week so I next chose by plunging into my Kindle. There I found the second Cretaceous Station novel by Terrence Zavecz- Hunter’s Moon. I still love the dinosaur setting, but sadly it’s being overwhelmed by some dodgy writing. I’m not sure if it just needs a brutal proofread but it lurches between past and present tense from sentence to sentence and there are a lot of typos.

It sounds a bit petty to moan about spelling and bad proofing, but I find them off putting. It’s hard to edit your own stuff; I certainly find it almost impossible to find the time during the week, but then I’m writing fast and loose – that’s my excuse. A lack of editing seems to be a feature of many independently published ebooks I buy. I want them to be better! Can I help?

Films

Just the one this week: we finally caught Oblivion at the cinema. I don’t really have much to say about it. I love the clean, retro-future ’70s designs and (a bit like The Host) there’s a really good alien invasion story in there somewhere. There was another one of those stupid American trailers that go on for ever and tell you the entire story, which definitely helped undermine it. Actually, even without that the ‘twists’ are incredibly obvious and predictable. There’s some nice scenery and chases (I love the Terrahawks style drones and the noises they make) but there is no tension at all. Sad really.

Events and Excitement

MissImp in Action - Friday 31st May

8.30pm at The Glee Club, Nottingham.
High energy improvised comedy show.

Weeks That Have Come Before

The Desert Crystals – Part Five: The Obsidian Eyrie

by

0

Part 5 – The Obsidian Eyrie

The Desert Crystals

Jacob Bublesnatch was having a bad night. He was surprised to discover that being hauled through the broken cockpit window of the airship by a fiend of the night was only the beginning of his terrors. The wind rushed beneath him as he dangled from the beast’s claws. Jacob made a distinct effort not to look down at the ground thousands of feet below, but it was unavoidable. An anguished wail left his mouth every few moments, as the creature shifted its grip and he swung horribly over the landscape.

In a time of less stress Jacob might well have admired the dunes below. Endless waves rippled across the desert, punctuated here and there by wells and hollows formed by the fierce winds and currents. In the moonlight it seemed like the sea caught in an instant of lightning that went on forever. It would be a long way to fall and it would not be a soft landing. That death might still be preferable to the unknown fate that awaited him.

He shuddered uncontrollably from fear and the cold that gnawed at his face and fingers. By twisting his head uncomfortably he could just make out The Dove’s Eye far behind them, her blazing lights illuminating the front of the balloon like a roseate bruise swelling in the sky. Jacob wondered if they knew he was gone. He wondered if they would rescue him. He wondered if they would rescue him before he was eaten. Jacob tore his eyes away from that homey, hopeful sight and winced as the beast’s claw dug into his left shoulder again. They were flying almost directly towards the moon, and it loomed so large and bright that Jacob had to squint.

When Jacob peeled his eyes open the moon was gone and his future was black, a blackness so profound he feared that he had already died. Then the moon caught the very edge of a vast cliff that loomed out of the night. They were flying directly towards an opening ringed with moon-brightened fangs. The image of flying into a mouth was inescapable, much though Jacob tried to tell himself it was just a cave his mind screamed that he was about to be eaten whole. Countless holes stretching out to every side of the gaping maw for as far as Jacob could see. Then he and his captor were swallowed up by the dark.

The darkness was complete; sound expanded to fill Jacob’s blindness. The rushing of wings flapping up and down, the sound of the beast’s breath and Jacob’s own frantic panting echoed all around. His body swung back and forth from the claws and he constantly tensed, expecting to collide with a wall or some other nameless horror in the pitch. In the darkness there was no sense of time; it seemed as if they flew blindly forever. Presumably deeper into the mysterious floating cliffs, far beyond the reach of his friends and captain.

It was warmer in the cavernous blackness, though not so warm that his numbed limbs began to thaw. Rather he was aware of a dank heat all around, kept at bay only by the speed of their passage. Too frightened to cry out he sagged in the gripping talons allowing it to swing him about; he dangled like a rag doll from a delinquent’s fist.

Without warning he was released. Jacob was so surprised that he didn’t even cry out. His stomach lurched up through his body, limbs flailed for an instant and then he slapped down hard on his hip and side. The best he could manage was a faint groan. The creature’s flapping receded. Whether it had flown away or merely perched somewhere, watching over him with malevolent intent, Jacob had no idea. He strained his ears to their limit and faintly detected a regular murmur, as of a vast distant thing breathing in sleep. He could no longer tell if his eyes were open or closed unless he felt as his eyelids with panicky fingertips. He didn’t know if he should move or if stillness would be safer.

He made a decision and gingerly began to feel out the space around him. There was only the ground, a rough crumbly rock everywhere he could reach without moving about. He began to crawl, ever fearful of the precipice that his mind screamed was after the next fingerstep. Instead his hands began to describe a rising slope, which became vertical after just a few feet. Standing, he could feel the beginnings of a ledge above.

It was perhaps an unfortunate time for the continued lack of sight to take its toll upon his deprived mind. In the quiet dark he began to hallucinate wildly. Edged shadows and streamers of blinking lights surrounded him, pressing on and fleeing from him. They harried him; he ducked, flinched and quivered under their assault. Strange ghosts snuck upon him and vanished from the corner of his other eye.

Helpless with visions he flailed at the ledge before him, hoping to drag himself away from his imagined horrors. Something seized his hand, enclosing it in a moistly firm grip. It pulled; Jacob shrieked. He was dragged up the wall, hungry leathery hands or claws or tentacles or tongues wrapping around his arm shoulder chest, neck. Bodily he was hauled onto the ledge and into a close dank breathing embrace. Thinner creeping flesh gripped his head and tugged him forwards. Fully bound his face was tilted back, screaming mouth and all and a thing prised open his eyelids.

Horrid flurries of wet crawling licked and pinched at his eyeballs. Shaking, shuddering Jacob finally went black inside his mind. He slumped unconscious while the thing continued to drool slitheringly into his eyes.

Next Week: Part 6 – The Sweet Night Air

In the same series:

This week, Monday 22nd April 2013

by

0

Captainface2

Blah Blah Words


Life without alcohol… it’s okay. That said I have been waking up with crippling headaches for most of the last week, so either my tolerance for the magic dop has reduced to the point that a bottle of 0.05% beer is giving me a hangover, or I’m broken in a different way. Either way, it’s a super start to the day… Once I’ve recovered from that and blundered to work everything seems to be alright. I don’t feel any different, but I imagine the health benefits will be invisible and detectable only in about thirty years time when I fail to die a year early.
I have had a week of being highly vexed by people’s inability to undertake basic comprehension tasks, or example reading a question and then answering it. You know what, it’s a reading problem. A terrifying proportion of the supposed humans I have to deal with work are unable to make themselves understood or to receive information via language. Maybe they are all psychic and simply acquire their information directly from other telepaths. That would explain why my primitive arrangement of symbols so befuddles them. Yeah, that must be it.

This week’s scribbles

Tuesday Shanktimonious: Self-Righteous Angry Poetry

There ain’t nothing like a good bit of spitty rage.

Wednesday Lego Friends: My Best New Friends

For girls? Don’t be so sexist. They’ve got lovely coloured bricks.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Five: The Obsidian Eyrie

Will death save young Jacob Bublesnatch, or will the horrors take him?

Friday Book Review: The First Collected Tales of Bauchelain & Korbal Broach by Steven Erikson

A delightfully surprising read.

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

Last week was good! I’d written the Goldfur McRoo story quite a while ago, in reponse to my sister complaining that my pirate stories aren’t suitable for children. I’m fine with that, but there does seem to be a general expectation that pirates are for kids. It’s perplexing since there’s nothing about pirate life (still less the adventures of Captain Pigheart) that are mite-friendly. I have read pirate stories for young adult fiction and enjoyed them, but I have no desire to write a story from a child’s point of view. Anyway, Goldfur is my solution. Apparently the language awkwardly straddles reading skills for ages 6-14 (which is a little depressing), but I think it’s quite sweet.
I’m really getting into The Desert Crystals now. It’s a satisfying challenge to do 800-1000 words of a story in its own right and continue the series. We have diverged enormously from the direction I had in mind, which I find amusing and intriguing. Since I started with the end (or almost) in chapter one, then I somehow have to wrangle it. Hopefully the story now has a life of its own, and picking it up each week gives an opportunity for tangents and new characters. We’ll see how long it lasts for!
My beer review last week got a lot of hits, which is gratifying and some nice feedback – thank you humans! I feel I can be as honest, brutal and playful as I like when reviewing a mass-produced product. I very much hope the makers of Beck’s Blue read and are annoyed by my mockery. I’ve had one other zero-alc beer since, but once I’ve got a bunch in my belly I’ll do another review.

Last week’s scribbles

The Desert CrystalsGoldfur - MontyTuesday Goldfur McRoo: Terror of The Subterranean Tunnels A pirate story for children, featuring a tiny fuzzy pirate beast.

Wednesday Pulp Pirate 18 Back on ye olde Flashe Pulpe podcast with another piratical tale.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Four: The Frothing Horror The search for the missing crewman begins.

Friday Beer Review: Four Zero Alcohol Beers  Three good, one very very bad beer.

Lego

I have once again expressed my terminal indecision and dismantled the house I’m building in order to reconstruct the upper floor again. I am happier with it now! It’s not finished though. The upper floor requires walls and I need to figure out some kind of removable roof. I also need to include some kind of washing facilities.
My dear friend Tesco has been kind this week, slashing a load of Lego Chima and Lego Friends with 75% reductions. So I got 7 sets and 3 mini bags (which I already had but they have such pretty colours). More of that on Wednesday!

Improv Comedy

I missed Fisticuff’s last week so I could go to a meeting about the Furthest Point From The Sea Festival on 29th June. I’m sort of involved as an organiser, but really I’m just moral support. When that comes round we’ll be having an improv slot in the comedy tent (plus a Captain Pigheart slot) and we’ll have improv workshop space during the day.
Parky ran this week’s jam where we had a good mix of old and new improvisers which resulted in surprising and funny scenes. I felt pretty relaxed and on the ball for the couple of scenes I did. That bodes well for the show at the end of this week. I suppose one result of being so busy at work is that I’d barely noticed we’re at the end of the month already.

Media Intake

Books

I’m still staving off The Air War with random books. I found The Stone Man by Luke Smithers in the Kindle store and tore through that last week. It’s an intriguing story about a (you’ll never guess) Stone Man who appears in Coventry and then walks across the country destroying everything in its path. I enjoyed the story telling, which is almost all from one perspective, that of a reporter who turns out to be sensitive to the Stone Man’s presence. Good book! I did find the main character rather unlikeable and the repeated notes about his Asperger’s just seemed odd. It’s quite possible to be focussed on a goal and not really care about people without having to put the character somewhere on the autistic spectrum. Strange.
I’ve now moved on to The Valley of Heroes by Jonathan Stroud (author of the magnificently entertaining Bartimaeus trilogy). I’m near the beginning and waiting eagerly for the exciting stuff to kick in. I suspect I’m just being impatient, but the Norse-like medieval set up is something I’ve grown tired of in books. I wanna see the monsters.

Events and Excitement

MissImp in Action - Friday 26th April

8.30pm at The Glee Club, Nottingham.
High energy improvised comedy show.

Related articles

Related articles

The Desert Crystals: part 4 The Frothing Horror

by

0

Part 4 – The The Frothing Horror

The Desert Crystals

The Dove’s Eye was in pursuit. With Lord Emmaline Corshorn at the helm the airship’s upward drift was adjusted, and though the frost did not slacken its grip on the balloon or on the chilled flesh of the crew and passengers it gleamed brightly as they turned their course towards the moon.

“We’re not actually going to the moon, are we?” enquired Maxwell, from deep inside Rosenhatch Traverstorm’s coat.

“Of course not, doubtless the creature responsible for this hooliganism dwells in some cave within the Razored Ridge,” replied a shivering Rosenhatch.

“You might wish to remind the captain of that, for we are about to veer sharply from our destination in pursuit of the dangling boy,” commented Harvey, the huge centipede from within his voluminous scarves. And indeed they were heading out into the deep desert, leaving the ridge behind.

“I can hardly ask him to to call off the hunt for the poor boy when we’ve only just begun looking.”

Rosenhatch had studied the scene of the kidnapping as best he could, which was not well, considering that Lord Emmaline was currently stamping around inside it, his hands at the controls with crewmen bobbing in and out for instructions and course corrections. By ducking and weaving around that stream of activity Rosenhatch noted the splintered glass, and the inward bend of the pane that remained. His investigation revealed a number of facts, which in turn offered certain conclusions to his curious mind. And it is here that the ambiguity of the available evidence aided the travellers not in the least.

“Lord Emmaline,” cried Rosenhatch, above the gale that blew in to the tiny cabin as they fiercely pursued the departing creature, “I have drawn a number of conclusions regarding the beast-” he was interrupted by Harvey who thrust his forward segments and mouthparts to offer his own contribution.

“-for the thing, due to the residue left upon the fragments of glass is almost certainly neither vegetable nor mineral, although it could be construed as some form of sap or pulped cellulose – but no, for the accounts of Cloud Beans are at best apocryphal-”

Rosenhatch interrupted in turn, fearful that the centipede would mire them in academia, ”I believe the beast to be large – though not so large as to require the entire window to get inside,” he reflected on the glass for a moment, “or, that the beast’s arm, or claw or writhing proboscis alone was not so large as to destroy the whole window to gain access to the poor boy. Well. If the latter, then the brute would likely be huge.”

“My thanks Traverstorm,” the Lord replied in his typical sanguine fashion, “for bringing to my attention the precisely unknown nature of our quarry.”

Harvey chipped in, “we believe it to be dangerous – most likely carnivorous and possibly female,”

“Though that presumes gender, of which we have little evidence, save noting that the boy was not torn to shreds and immediately consumed.”

“Indeed,” clicked Harvey, animatedly, “suggesting a gathering behaviour, perhaps a period of nesting or for the feeding of the young. Recall the Greater-Toothed Grundle Bear and its collecting of live amphibians into a stockpile to feed their ravenous triplets once they have burst from its wombing limb?”

“Ah! Or the Chiverley Hermit Beetle, which takes live prey in order to wear the still-breathing skin and pass amongst the tribesmen of the western plain…”

“While these deliberations are doubtless fascinating and of great worth within your hallowed college halls,” remarked their captain snidely, “perhaps you could turn your scholarly eyes towards that.”

His harsh tone cut through the bubbling rush of ideas and he gestured forward, beyond the overhanging balloon at what awaited them. As Rosenhatch peered into the night ahead he caught a last glimpse of the flying creature as it vanished into a greater shadow. The clouds drew back from the moon and its sterile glare etched out the shape of a cliff hanging in the sky. It extended upwards beyond Rosenhatch’s view, even as he leaned over the railing to follow its rise. The cliff face appeared to be slowly turning, for the moonlight spread across its face revealing countless crags and crannies, from holes large enough to house The Dove’s Eye to gaps Maxwell would struggle to squeeze inside. The caves were blacker than the night from which the cliff hung.

“It has no bottom – look, it’s just hanging in the air!” exclaimed Rosenhatch, his analytic brain stalled with gawping. The crew appeared on deck, as crew will, without summons or orders- they just knew, drawn by the sense of wonder, and not yet tainted by fear, that their place was on deck. Lord Emmaline, being possessed of a good deal more common sense than the average commoner, reduced their speed until they reached a drifting stop.

“Sky Mountain,” gasped one of the more nimble crew.

“Bollocks,” retorted a rigger, “no such thing as Sky Mountain.”

“Well what’s that then?” demanded the crewman.

“Well, that’s just a lot of caves stuck together.”

“Gentlemen, I think we can afford to name the Aerial Monolith later,” intruded Harvey (a round of murmurs went up as he continued: “Sky Mountain’s a better name”), “I myself have a more immediate concern.”

The centipede shook off the smaller of his scarves to gesture with more legs at the cliff side. The edges of the caves, those ovaline shapes so neatly outlined by the waxy yellow lunar glow, were changing, rippling, extending outwards in a frothy spume like a brutally whisked hot chocolate, bubbling onto a coaster. Here Traverstorm’s imagery broke down because the coaster was the night air itself and the over-excited beverage was a vast cloud of winged monsters.

“Man the artillery!” cried Lord Emmaline and the crew scattered, leaving Traverstorm and Harvey at the bow. Maxwell hopped out of Rosenhatch’s coat and ran back to their cabin.

Next Week: Part 5 – The Obsidian Eyrie

In the same series:

Goldfur McRoo: Terror of The Subterranean Tunnels

by

0

Goldfur - MontyGoldfur McRoo skipped fearsomely down his tunnel. He had a spring in his scamper because he had just been named the most fearsome of all subterranean pirates by a committee of forest dwellers. He was so happy that he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going and before he knew it he was in a tunnel he didn’t recognise at all. It was very cold and made his fur stand up on end to keep him warm. It also smelled like no one had been here for a very long time.

 It was a little bit scary, but since Goldfur McRoo was a very fearsome pirate he just puffed up his lovely golden fur and with a good deal of noise he confidently explored further. Around the next corner was a huge icicle hanging from the ceiling all the way down to the ground. Goldfur edged around it and peered into the gloom behind it. As his big wide eyes adjusted to the dark he suddenly let out a cry and bounced backwards into the icicle. Its sudden coldness on his ears made him cry out again and leap forwards where he was once again startled by the thing that had startled him to begin with.

 This went on for a little while, until Goldfur’s ears got used to the chilliness and he rested against icicle to catch his breath. He was rather tired from all the surprised squeaking and was all squeaked out. Now that he was a bit calmer he could have a look again at what had frightened him.

 In the tunnel ahead was a huge pair of tusks pointing right at him, and in between them a great hairy trunk pointing at the roof. It was certainly an alarming sight, and much bigger than the little marsupial pirate, even with all of his fur puffed up. However, even with all his brave battlecries and the bouncing back and forth it had neither run away (which is what normally happens when Goldfur McRoo was fierce at things), nor had it charged at him (which is what happens the rest of the time when Goldfur McRoo was not fierce enough).

 Feeling brave, Goldfur got even closer and discovered that the whole beastie was encased thickly in ice. No wonder it hadn’t run away! The big beastie wasn’t as scary as Goldfur had first thought – even though it was very big indeed, it was also rather furry and to Goldfur’s eye, it looked quite lonely as well as cold. Just looking at the big fellow was making him feel cold. He determined to warm the beastie up and make friends.

 First he tried cuddling at the tusked thing, but that just made his fur cold. Then he tried wrapping a blanket round it, but that just got stuck to the beastie’s leg. He realised that what was needed was an heroic act of digging and decided to excavate the whole burrow, right up to the surface and let the sun warm his (hopefully) new friend up properly. This was not a little operation.

 It took many days to dig away the earth above the frozen creature, but at last Goldfur was done. The icy head and mighty shoulders of the thing stuck up out of the ground for the sun’s rays to do their stuff. With such a big piratical digging project, all of Goldfur’s crewmates and friends had come to see what was going on.

 Pomfrey the Owl was sitting in a tree watching the melting when the big beast’s ears first started to twitch. With loud hoots he woke up Goldfur, who was very tired from all the digging and had fallen asleep in a little pothole he’d dug for himself. The ice was melting faster and faster, and the big hairy creature was soon surrounded by a pond of cold water.

 Goldfur made a raft out of his friend, Alas the Terrapin and rowed over to the furry island. He climbed up the still chilly trunk and gave the big beast a big pirate kiss right between its eyes. There was a pause in which Goldfur prepared to either hug or run away.

 With a huge groan the trunk lifted into the air and blew out a fountain of water, nearly knocking Pomfrey off his perch. Goldfur clung to the trunk as if it were a mast in the middle of a storm. The eyes opened on either side and looked at the golden pirate clinging to its nose.

 “Hello there,” it boomed.

“Ahoy!” cried Goldfur McRoo, “I, Goldfur McRoo, terror of the subterranean tunnels have defrosted you!”

“Oh thank you, I’ve been terribly cold,” said the beast underneath Goldfur’s feet, “I’m Monty by the way. Monty the Mammoth.”

 Goldfur helped Monty out of the deep hole and they became great friends.

This week, Monday 15th April 2013

by

0

Blissful Mind Peace

Captain Pigheart dirtyWow, a horrifying week of no beer, no whiskey. Apparently this is healthy. I am unimpressed. Not least with the alternatives to drinking beer. There’s a substance in flavour and texture to beer (never mind whiskey) that pomegranate juice and milk (not mixed together) really don’t approach. Every pub I’ve been in this week only has Becks Blue zero-alcohol beer, which is revolting – mainly because it tastes exactly the same as normal Becks lager.

Honestly it hasn’t been that bad (sobbing uncontrollably) and I’ve only got three more weeks to go. My dear fellow David has acquired for me a couple of bottles of BrewDog’s Nanny State 0.5% ale to ease my suffering,  which should taste a damn sight better than water.

This week’s scribbles

Tuesday Goldfur McRoo: Terror of The Subterranean Tunnels

A pirate story for children, featuring a tiny fuzzy pirate beast.

Wednesday Pulp Pirate 18

Back on ye olde Flashe Pulpe podcast with another piratical tale.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Four: The Frothing Horror

The search for the missing crewman begins.

Friday Beer Review:  Nanny State by Brewdog

This may become a theme…

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

Well at least I’m consistently behind on everything I’m supposed to be doing. Or at least I think I am… Just in time is more like it. I finally finished my double film review five minutes before the scheduled publish time during Friday lunchtime. Eek. I do need to catch up in case other bits of life get busier and overtake again. The serial nature of The Desert Crystals is intriguing and exciting and even though I leave it till the last minute I do find myself thinking about it often.

Very excitingly Mr Neal Asher was kind enough to read the review of The Departure I wrote a couple of weeks ago and retweet it to his legions of fans. He also left a comment on the review. Brave stuff – I don’t think I’d ever want to read reviews of anything I do, but from the briefest of contact I’ve had with him he seems like a thoroughly nice chap, and his blog is appealing and self-deprecating. I must confess that it had never occurred to me that anyone would read my rambling commentary of their work (even though I tweet it to the author as a matter of courtesy). I think I care a good deal more about authors of books I’ve read than the makers of films I watch. I’m not sure why, but books seem a more personal endeavour (plus I dabble in scribbles myself) than films. Hmm. It gives me pause for thought. I think I’m fair in expressing my opinion; even if occasionally harsh, it’s still what I feel.

Last week’s scribbles

The Desert CrystalsWar Alone - Call CentreTuesday The War Alone: Day One – Call Centre A one-shot story set in the chaos and confusion of The War Alone).

Wednesday Shankbuddy – Convenient Hate Poems A tiny reminder in poetry form of why I needed a week off.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Three The Edge of Night It’s time to leave the safety of the air behind.

Friday Film Review Double Bill: The Host & GI Joe: Retaliation One really awful film and one enjoyable, but awful film.

Lego

I am still dismantling and rebuilding my Lego Boba Fett’s house. Unfortunately we were out almost every night last week, and have been with children at the weekend. So I have had precious little time for play, other than in expanding the top floor. My indecisiveness will be the death of me.

On the other hand I did get to spend an hour on Sunday showing off our mini figure collections and assorted models to my enthralled niece. That was nice. She demanded to know where all the figures came from – Cavalier from France, Poseidon from the sea, alien cyborg from um, space…

Improv Comedy

I compered our Gorilla Burger show this week in our current weekly home in The Corner, 8 Stoney St. Since the space was being set up for an art exhibition we were nicely confined in a miniature theatre that made the room much warmer than usual. We had a bunch of new folk and some of those we’ve only seen occasionally and a good time was had by all. I particularly enjoyed shrieking (in a game of Dubbing) as Becky’s voice whenever giant hands approached. I know… it only makes sense when you can see it.

On Friday night Martin, Geoff and I supported some friends of mine in their Angry Folk LP launch at The Guildhall Theatre in Derby. It’s a lovely venue (I’d like very much to do improv there) and an ideal setting for their socialist folk band Karl & The Marx Brothers. The support we provided was an improvised protest in the foyer as audience were arriving. We yelled at people, set up mutating chants, ranted about the government doing nothing about black holes and many other silly things. We were very popular! I had feared we’d be merely annoying but we got quite a lot of attention from chatting people in the interval. How nice! There will be videos and photos at some point.

https://soundcloud.com/furthestfromthesearecords

Media Intake

Books

I have managed to avoid going straight into Adrian Tchaikovsky’s next Shadows of The Apt tome, The Air War (book eight of ten). I’m saving that for a rainy day, or something. I went for something different instead – The Third Pig Detective Agency. It’s a delightfully bound little hardcover in the style of real pulp detective fiction. I quite enjoyed it, but I’ve read a lot of stories set in the fairy tale world already and I’m not sure there’s much more to be done with it. I then picked a book my other half got me for Christmas: The First Collected Tales of Bauchelain and Korbal Broach by Steven Erikson. I’ve never read anything by him before, but this is grim surreal fantasy is extremely poetic, violent and fantastic. I’m loving it. I can’t usually abide the tedious repetition in fantasy but this guy’s nailed it with an intriguing new perspective on the genre; I may read more.

Films

I entirely forgot to mention that the week before last we saw two other films - Finding Nemo in its 3D release and Trance. We saw Finding Nemo for my other half’s birthday. There was a funny new Toy Story short with Rex (one of my favourite characters) as a party animal pumping it up to 11 in the bathtub rave scene, although I was disappointed not to get the brilliant original Pixar short (Knick Knack – about a snowman in a snowglobe). While I still think 3D is utterly worthless technology for films the depths of the ocean always had the glorious illusion of depth and it plays out well in 3D. We had a good time.

Trance was a far odder fish (mwhah ha ha) detailing an art heist that goes awry with an amnesiac and hypnotherapist as complicating factors in its recovery (by the criminals). I’m not sure I have too much to say about it other than that I enjoyed it very much – it’s funny, tense, slickly made and has a twist you aren’t given enough information to guess at. It wrapped up very satisfyingly, although there is an odd and rather unnecessary beaver shot.

Events and Excitement

MissImp in Action - Friday 26th April

8.30pm at The Glee Club, Nottingham.
High energy improvised comedy show.

Related articles

The Desert Crystals: part 3 The Edge of Night

by

0

Part 3 – The Edge of Night

The Desert Crystals

The night had long since sucked the heat from the air that circulated high over the Great Bane Desert, leaving a chill breeze to compete with the airship’s propellers. The gentle thrum had lulled Jacob Bublesnatch, night watch mate of The Dove’s Eye into gazing blindly out of the cockpit. Despite travelling for sixteen days and nights around the edge of the brutal desert, the journey had been remarkably peaceful. That resulted, in no small part, from the absence of their Lord’s wife, the formidable Lady Corshorn. Their previous trip – out to the coast had been spoiled, for the crew at least, by the Lady’s shrieking at them for every excessive noise or disturbance they caused to the varicoloured birds who were intent on attacking the airship’s provocative balloon. The crew had also noted the improved mood of their captain, Lord Emmaline.

Young Jacob, on only his fifth voyage in the airship was thrilled by their passengers: the notorious adventurists Rosenhatch Traverstorm and his companions, Harvey the giant centipede and a small playful cat. When Jacob was not on watch or fulfilling the countless domestic duties that were required of him, Jacob spent his time lying on bunk flicking through the Journals Biologinary, a tattered bundle of over-fondled periodicals filled with tales of adventure and discovery. No less than twelve of Traverstorm’s catastrophic expeditions were recounted within those hallowed and inky pages and Jacob knew them by rote. When he’d learned of their guests he truly thought his heart had stopped and he spent the loading and embarkation in an excited sweaty clamminess. He had even personally taken the centipede’s weighty panniers into the cargo hold converted for the enormous creature – and been personally thanked for it.

It had proved to be a slight disappointment that the adventurers had not shot anything from the deck of the airship or attracted the attentions of some as yet unknown brute to propel them back into the Biologinary‘s pages. Jacob had contented himself with building up the courage to request an autograph, a preparation ruined when Maxwell, the cat, pounced upon one of the journals and dragged it gleefully on deck to his (possible) master. Maxwell looked on smirkingly as Traverstorm mildly condescended to the lad and signed the magazine with a flourish. Harvey had then taken it upon himself to add a trademark snap of his mandibles (the centipede equivalent of a signature), and a dedication to the brave young man in his flying machine. Had it not been in the middle of the deck, with his crewmates watching Jacob shame a lantern for beaming, he would have been much happier.

In compensation for the embarrassment Traverstorm took the boy under his wing and showed off the magnificently complex mirrored traps and goggles they had prepared for their expedition. Jacob was in no doubt that the voyage would be a tremendous success, and he had high hopes to be there when Traverstorm netted the Crystal Finches at last. That of course, wouldn’t happen, as Traverstorm and his team would be going on alone once they reached the razored ravine that had been designated as the end of the outward journey. Jacob would be staying behind on The Dove’s Eye as they waited for the heroes to return.

Jacob stared out of the cockpit into the night. The course was fixed, the wind was in their favour: smooth sailing. Pleasant daydreaming, or nightdreaming, or dreaming… even dozing his mind briefly debated the semantics of his dreamy state before his eyelids slid shut with a relieved flutter. His face rested against his hand where it loosely gripped the elevator, pulling it back. The airship began to rise. Clouds drifted idly across the glowing moon ahead; dark shapes flocked out of the night behind them.

As the airship rose higher the air grew colder. Frost began to flower across the surface of the catenary curtain and blossomed down the sides of the envelope, reaching for the gondola slung beneath. The cold air touched at the passengers in their sleep; Rosencrantz twitched and tugged his blankets (and Maxwell) closer over his chest and face; Harvey’s dreams turned sluggish and his spiracles shivered.

Back in the cabin Jacob shuddered with the chill air blowing through the gaps around the window and juddered back to wakefulness. His eyes flew wide as a black shape leaped out of the night and slammed into the window inches from his face. A scream died in his throat as ghastly foot-long talons scraped against the glass leaving jagged scratches. The lamps cast Jacob’s shadow over the creature’s face and all he saw was the gleam of curved teeth before it tore the window out of its frame. The nightmare thing squeezed through the shattered hole and spilled into the cabin. Jacob backed away until he hit the wall. The jolt finally shocked a cry out of him; once released he didn’t stop. The intruder rose up, talons extended and reached for him.

Shouts, hammering fists and the pounding of feet on wood roused the crew and passengers. Half-dressed, pistols half-cocked and half-awake the travellers warily spread on deck in a pattern of confusion. Lord Emmaline reached the cockpit first, and was the first to see the wreckage of the room.

“The boy’s gone,” he cried.

All eyes were on the night around them.

“There!” Rosenhatch’s arm speared outwards as a shadow flashed across the moon – a wide winged shape bearing a struggling human form. Lord Emmaline seized the controls and set a pursuit course.

Next Week: Part 4 – The Frothing Horror

In the same series:

The War Alone: Day One – Call Centre

by

0

The grind of days of data entry had numbed the call centre workers’ brains to an all-new low. By ten o’clock the boards were already fun and the phones were ringing ceaselessly. The supervisors prowled for difficult callers and staff taking too long to resolve their customers trivial issues.

Mike ground his teeth in frustration, listening to Mr G.E. Abbingdale painstakingly detail how hard it had been to find the number he had just called on their website. His hand sought out the remnants of his stress ball and gouged it savagely with his fingernails. He’d been there since eight o’clock and already wanted to kill everyone. The allure of going postal was powerful. Getting the guns to do it with was virtually impossible. That was probably a good thing. Probably… wouldn’t it just be freeing people from this nightmare?

War Alone - Call CentreMr G.E. Abbingdale finally ran out of steam and grudgingly conceded that he had indeed located the desired number and having done so had made this call but his need, which drove him into his number-quest, had vanished during the duration of the subsequent call. Mike ended the call and drove his thumbs into the pits of his eyes.

He raised his hand to indicate that he needed to be covered while taking a break. After receiving the hard eyes and reluctant nod of his supervisor. Mike thrust undercover finger-Vs towards the bastard. He pushed away from the desk and headed for the loos. A sudden blare of telephones accompanied his use of the urinal. It sounded like every phone on the switchboard had lit up; an excellent time to not be there. He washed his hands and rested his face on the hand-dryer before pulling himself back together.

The corridor outside was silent, a welcome relief from the endless ringing and babble. Maybe the phone system had broken down again – one of those rare but wonderful times. They would either be found some other make-work to do or told to fuck off and not expect payment for their downtime.

Large glass doors opened into the circle of hell (as the phone operators had dubbed it). Mike resignedly pushed them open, and stopped. The room was silent and still, and everyone was looking at him. The expression of sheer malice made Mike briefly wonder if he’d accidentally pulled a power plug out again. Then he noticed the stream of blood following the badly laid carpet tiles.

The door swung closed behind him, settling with a quiet sucking thump. Everyone shifted minutely. Predatory, menacing stances. Mike was uncomfortably reminded of being at the zoo, eyes following him as he walked round the cages. There were no cages here. Just his colleagues, standing by their desks. He also noticed that there were more feet under one desk than people standing behind it. A face peeked out from under the chair- Mark, one of the elite cadre of supervisors now crouching shivering under a table. Mike had worked here for six months and never exchanged a single word with him. Mark’s face was white and lightly spattered with blood, the same blood that was being soaked up by the carpet tiles.

Their eyes met. “Run you fucking idiot,” Mark whispered hoarsely. The two nearest helpdesk operators responded instantly – Brenda (mother of two, prone to weight gain, badly made up) flipped the whole desk over, knocking computer, phone and stationery across the floor. Before the cables had finished ripping out of their sockets and almost before the edge of the table hit the ground, Usuf (cat hater, mid-forties, bad taste in ties) had seized Mark and began slamming his head against the next desk. Mike heard Mark’s skull crack and he became limp as his head turned to a broken bloody mess.

Mike panicked and spun round, fumbling at the door. He’d always laughed at people who pushed when they needed to pull, but right now he couldn’t figure out why the door wouldn’t open. The letters that made up the word ‘Pull’ didn’t work, didn’t refer to anything. The reflections clustered closely behind his own mirrored face of fear. A weight struck him from behind, hammering him into the glass door. He felt a tooth crack on impact. He began to scream as hands and stabbing fingers tore at his arms and legs. All he saw was the empty corridor outside.

Related stories

This week, Monday 8th April 2013

by

0

Blissful Mind Peace

Orc ForgerA week off does wonders for the soul, though not necessarily from the skull-shuddering headaches. Never mind, that’s just my mind being invaded by trans-dimensional beings. My open rage emissions make me vulnerable to their pseudopod probings. Aside from their mentational strokings it has been a very nice week indeed. Ihaven’t done much…

The highlight for me was my other half’s birthday and observing the unrestrained glee with which she carefully removed the tape from each wrapped parcel and then tore apart the paper in a neat, folded way. In celebration we have hit the cinema fairly hard this week and had a lovely meal out as Las Iguanas with some close friends. The actual party will have to wait until later in the month because of other people’s birthday parties being arranged earlier. Damn them.

In hopes of approaching the return to work with positivity I have had a shave. I’m not sure why I think this will help. I suspect it will mainly make my face cold as summer is not on the cards this year.

This week’s scribbles

Tuesday The War Alone: Day One – Call Centre

A one-shot story set in the chaos and confusion of The War Alone.

Wednesday Shankbuddy – Convenient Hate Poems

A tiny reminder in poetry form of why I needed a week off.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Three

It’s time to leave the safety of the air behind.

Friday Film Review Double Bill: The Host & G.I. Joe: Retaliation 

Jeez, what a pair of films…

Updates on my thrilling life

Writing

I have, as I predicted last week, been exceptionally bad at sitting down and doing anything of note. All I have done really is embraced the need to write another 800 words every week for The Desert Crystals (and done last week’s Part 2). I have no sense of where this story will end. My original draft was fairly short and concluded with the new beginning… so we shall be going off the wall, underneath the box and so forth for exactly some number of chapters.

I’m enjoying the business of a review every Friday. I thought I might find it irritating, because I’m a bit conflicted about reading other people’s reviews of films and books. Instead it helps me to focus on what I enjoyed about a thing, and am remembering it better. Regardless of any benefit to me I’m happy to thrust my irrelevant opinion onto you every week. I hope you enjoy them and treat them like any other review – ignore them entirely and do what you want.

Last week’s scribbles

The Desert CrystalsLoss_and_AppeasementTuesday Appeasement and Loss A short story set in a fantasy world where revenge is all that’s left to one man (or Loss and Appeasement as I reordered it for my picture).

Wednesday Lego Creations: Mini Mechs A happy rootling about in my Lego box and an enthusiasm for matching colours resulted in quite a nice build.

Thursday The Desert Crystals – Part Two The expedition gathers pace, hardware and danger…

Friday Book Review: The Departure by Neil Asher I’m behind the times as always, but I finally got round to reading the first in a new series by one of my favourite authors.

Lego

We on patrol.

Mwha ha ha! I have more boxes which has enabled further segmentation of Lego by colour and shape. I don’t know how far to take this, as it can be convenient to have it all separated, but then I have to be surrounded by a roomful of boxes. It’s also really handy to have stuff mixed up together – it supports my lack of planning as I can be inspired by a random aggregation of bricks in a corner.

I finished my little mechs for last week’s post and am still toying with more variations on the theme. I’ve also been tinkering further with Boba Fett’s house. I need to dismantle part of it to get more space in there – the man needs a shower and a wardrobe. I’m quite pleased with his sleep capsule though.

Finally… I delayed the unboxing for weeks but I have broken into The Orc Forge at last! It’s a really cool little model to build (though rather repetitive on the base) and the use of the light brick is pretty. Admittedly I was a touch disappointed because the picture on the box virtually promises two light bricks. I was robbed. However that is completely countered by the orc’s ears being part of the hair piece. Genius. As a newbie Lego builder I also noticed for the first time that Lego are employing techniques more commonly seen on the moc circuit than in their usual kits – the shaping around the base looks great.

Orc Forge

Improv Comedy

We’re still punching away at the Evente in Fisticuffs on Tuesdays. We’re a bit torn on where to go with it. There have been just four of us playing it for a few weeks now and it might just be that having one scene each plus the bookend events make it feel weirdly short. However, we are playing nicely together and we had ourselves in tears of laughter last week over the sexy tortoise and dong-face. That was a fine round of therapeutic corpseing.

For the jam we were back in the freezing environment of 8 Stoney Street. It’s a great space but Christ it’s cold. That does make it hard – once you stop moving you don’t want to start again because it moves all that lovely warmth that you’ve gathered. Regardless, Lloydie let us in a fun round of justification and grounding, building in part upon the workshop that Jules Munns did with us a few weeks ago. Having to say “because” leads to wonderful realisations and discoveries.

I also enjoyed going to the pub afterwards: it was warm. And had beer.

Media Intake

Books

I dove straight from The Temporal Void into The Evolutionary Void and finished that yesterday. Loved it, loved it to bits. It’s been a very satisfying 5,000 page read through of the five books almost back to back. Peter F Hamilton’s scope in the series is just immense and epic and it made me very happy. What to read next? Well, I now have a taste for the massive and will have to dig Adrian Tchaikovsky’s next Shadows of The Apt tome, The Air War (book eight of ten). I’ve been holding off on reading it because my anticipation and excitement are immense. Knowing we’re close to the end of the saga causes me internal weeping.

Events and Excitement

Gorilla Burger - Thursday 11th April

7.30pm at 8 Stoney Street, Nottingham.
An improv comedy show where anyone can play.

“Angry folk” lp launch Karl & the Marx Brothers - Friday 12th April

8.00pm at The Guildhall, Derby.
MissImp are providing an improvised protest in front of this excellent album launch show!

Related articles