February 9th, 2006
|11:30 pm - Behind Glass|
More non-rhyming poetry of questionable metre. I'm not happy with it but I'm sick of playing with it. So it ends up here. Confusion indeed.
First drafted, actually, when I was wandering around the Silk Road in China. But then I ended up spilling pumpkin juice over computer and all was lost. Including all the pretty pictures taken.
I remember a time when I used to write lots. Now I seem to be perpetually writing downtimes and essays and adventures. I'm sure it's all in passing. The muse will smile again. Or rather, will smile whilst I have time to write my own things. I suppose the addictiveness of writing in TT (or into fanfiction) is that one's joining a canon. Lazy writing, of sorts, an audience and feedback guarenteed. One's not writing alone and can set one's work amongst a firmament of old. Something like that.
Not a good day for coherence.
( Mirrors of still waterCollapse )
Current Mood: confused
January 31st, 2006
|05:12 am - in the circle of her embrance|
"In the hour of dawn, he made love to his wife. He died in the circle of her embrace and came alive again, and his life would never be the same, for he had let this woman topple his defences and so he had given her the power to hurt him. Why that terrible deed created such joy within him, he would never understand." ~Catherine Asaro, "The Misted Cliffs"
Life seems to have taken a nosedive. I will continue the death-defying tradition of conjugating the word "hate". Whilst I continue this endeavour of utmost creativity, I will write an overly long, slightly ranty review of The Misted Cliffs.
The Misted Cliffs
By Catherine Asaro
I profess I was rather shallowly seduced by the cover of this book. Whilst the snark continues over at Smart Bitches Trashy Books on crappy covers on romance novels, the publishers have managed to cajole the unequalled and unmistakable Stephanie Pui-Mun Law to clothe this volume is swirly pastel colours. It is gorgeous. Though that said, I am still mildly irked by the fact that Stephanie's name doesn't feature in appropriate enormity on the spine and cover. After all, she is main selling point. Too stingy to buy prints of her work, I resort to buying books sporting her art.
( adjective-noun of noun-noun adjective-nounCollapse )
Current Mood: cranky
January 30th, 2006
|10:43 pm - upon the wind and dance, upon the mountains like a flame|
"Come fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you, upon the wind and dance, upon the mountains like a flame. ~W.B. Yeats.
Been idly reading through reviews of Deliria: Faerie Tales for a New Millenium and I'm about to conclude that they're all blind.
Because it's not pretty. There are flashes of pretty, but the whole thing as itself isn't pretty. The layout is psychotic, chaotic, unwieldy and ultimately inconsistent. There are pages in which enormous pictures crowd the text, forcing the too-bold words to the edge of the page. Throughout the book, pictures are repeated and stretched and inverted and mutilated.
( the rant begins here...Collapse )
Current Mood: infuriated
January 29th, 2006
|11:09 pm - making sure the old year leaves|
"An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves." ~Bill Vaughan
It is the first day of the first month of the year of the dog, also known as Stem-Branch.
If I were in Hong Kong (perhaps the term "home" would be more appropriate, perhaps...) I'd be red-swathed and wandering around a flaming red world. Stark black blessings in flowing caligraphy on red sheets stare down at one. The upturned words of good fortune; the old coins strung up in the shape of a sword; the plump red lanterns; the myriad of flowers forced in blossoming by modern heating; the strings of silent fire-crackers, fiercely red; the encircling bands of red ribbon tied around every ornament in the house; the red boxes full of sweets... One has to convince the heavenly dragons that the world is on fire, after all.
( cheese-on-toast, delira and sakuraCollapse )
Current Mood: high
September 10th, 2005
|05:19 pm - the daytime language|
Dreams say what they mean, but they don't say it in daytime language.
Funnily enough, LRP (live role play) hasn't featured much in the journal. Well, considering the fact that I haven't updated for a year, it might not be that odd, but the hobby has very much consumed my life. The society isn't called "Treasure Trap" for no reason. There's only one trap in Treasure Trap, they say.
I'll wax lyrical about the wonders of larp another day, but now, I'm focusing on its slightly tamer and more popular (only in comparison, neither is anywhere near mainstream) cousin, table-top roleplay. Or interactive storytelling, for its more socially acceptable name. Living in the House of Roleplay (there are some who will use that name with derision, but I see it as a term of utmost respect) meant I learnt a lot about systems and statting and settings by osmosis.
Unsurprisingly, I'd try to run my own game back in Hong Kong.
The following entry is really a write up of the game, post-game notes if you will and an effort to convince my players that despite being half awake for the last few hours, I really did know what I was going on about. It will probably be of little interest to anyone else, unless you really like worldbuilding and choppy narration.
( nuts and bolts: finding playersCollapse )
The game happened on Saturday after a weeklong flurry of excited blinkmails about characters, stats and setting. The plot and setting were homegrown, so if anything went wrong it was my fault.
Sword Guy played a Ninja-Casanova-Pimpernel named Rauel. He also had an atrocious accent which he thankfully never put into play. Queen's favourite, last of his family, lover to many and fae-tainted he had a lot on his plate.
Lotto played a very skilled herbalist from beyond the Burning Lands. or Anda for short. Fate had dragged her to the fair shores of Albion where her exotic beauty caught her the prince's favour. However, she apparently hasn't shagged the man yet.
( the three swords, the blooded dreamers and the importance of memoryCollapse )
It was four in the morning by the time Sword Guy and I finished and it was quite a sloppy ending. We were both too tried. Lotto left at two and appeared to be in deep trouble with her mother over the entire outing. Her character's disappearance was unexplained, but by then the story quality had gone quite downhill with the teller and player simply too fatigued.
Think the entire Inquisition had been turned into Morris Dancers and...
Think I promised some ficlet fluff a few days ago. And yes, it will happen. Blame the Physicist; it's always his fault. (In the best possible way.)
Current Mood: accomplished
August 12th, 2005
|05:00 pm - some assembly required|
"Granted, reading is a participatory act, and every piece of good writing carries the implicit instructions, "Some assembly required." Good books demand good readers, even nimble readers.
I have to say that the following ramble is going to sound more than a little pompous. I've watched the entire fandom react to Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and I've tried to stay silent, be calm and generally hold my tongue before meebling about it all.
Yes, I'm a H/Hr shipper, that's not news. And yes, I'm probably bitter, and this is quite possibly that bitterness is seeping through to my literary side. I'm probably going to sound defensive half way through and it probably isn't going to warm your heart to read it if you sail the newly official ships.
( what the reader lives through under the guidance of the textCollapse )
I sound like I'm beginning to take myself too seriously. Salt everyone, please. It happens when the essay-mode is switched on.
Current Mood: contemplative
August 10th, 2005
|05:41 pm - saving it for someone you love|
"Life in Lubbock, Texas, taught me two things: One is that God loves you and you're going to burn in hell. The other is that sex is the most awful, filthy thing on earth and you should save it for someone you love.
There's a growing debate on contraception and other related subjects in America. As part of working in Cubicle World, I spend much time flitting about the Interweb, looking up officious-looking articles. Abstinence-only education scares me most in its twisting of statistics.
( trusting the teensCollapse )
Current Mood: cynical
August 5th, 2005
|05:54 pm - saying anything you like|
"Home is where you can say anything you like 'cause nobody listens to you anyway."
It's been a long month. I'm now technically home, and indeed, I feel a little less heard. I left England little less than a month ago and much has happened since. Most notably Half Blood Prince coming out and resultant mess.
I'm also stuck in Cubicle World, but that's another story. If anyone's been lacking reading material, there's always my articles of utmost boredom at The Standard. I don't claim it to be good reading material. Frankly, if I didn't have to write it, I wouldn't read it. But unfortunately reading's intrinsically linked to the writing process.
Lots more have happened. I've gone through the blog and decided to insert pseudonyms. Should have done this from the start, am feeling a little silly now. The other half is not refered to as "the Physicist", or if I'm irritated, "that bloody Physicist."
I'm waiting for the entire HBP-thing to blow over before opining. It's actually very interesting, especially with the way Reader Response Theory came apart. I'm still an avid supporter of the Pumpkin Pie, delusional or otherwise. And little will change that. It's the archetypes that I love now, perhaps more so that Rowling's characters, but that's another story.
However, I am working on some fanfiction. Though Cubicle Wolrd has eaten up much of my day, my energy and creativity (yes, I'm fishing for pity), I'd like to think that I've managed some creative writing. There should be some fluff up, though Shadows of the Endless Day is on hold. I'm not sure I can write that level of angst when away from the pet Physicist.
Incidentally, I really do miss that bloody Physicist. Even if he does think I'm a Pure Mathematician.
Current Mood: irate
May 24th, 2005
|02:25 am - the sum of all wisdom|
"The Arctic expresses the sum of all wisdom: Silence."
It's been a long, long time since my last entry. Silence has indeed reigned, though I doubt that exhibits any true wisdom on my part. Quite the opposite as the Series of Unfortunate Events that took place since will testify. Spent a good portion of it listless, stressed and otherwise not-a-happy-bunny. I was not a victim of life happening around me; most was almost entirely my fault. I had walked into it all eyes wide open, so stupidly so that I saw nothing.
Creative writing of any sort dried up in a most depressing manner. And after my laptop crashed (quite literally, it came into swift contact with a very hard surface) and thus deleting from the world all my creative output, I really didn't want to rewrite any of it. (And hence the derth of Shadows of the Endless Day chapters.)
( Series of Unfortunate EventsCollapse )
Emerging from that mess of angst, I'm still trying to deal with the aftermath. Emotionally, I'm decidedly sound, but the academic repercussions still need to be contended with. For one, I have yet to secure a pass. Piecing together life again and untangling it all.
There is a happy ending. After more angst than anyone should rightfully have in their life (most of it self-inflicted), the Physicist and I had final debrief about what exactly was going on between us. Yes, reader, the very platonic friends got together.
There was even a pumpkin exchanging hands. I gave him a small, wooden pumpkin for no apparent reason. And he gave me the keyring (a flat elipse of copper with the pine-tree-shape cut out of it), which now lies by my collar bone, dangling off a green ribbon.
Current Mood: surreal
October 8th, 2004
|05:20 pm - the reason for going on|
"She stopped. It was time to take the pumpkin out of the pot and eat it. In the final analysis, that was what solved these big problems in life. You could think and think and get nowhere, but you still had to eat pumpkin. That brought you down to earth. That gave you a reason for going on. Pumpkin."
~Alexander McCall Smith,"The No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency"
After buying Jerry Smath's I like Pumpkins in which the immortal words :"I like pumpkins - every kind, every size. But the ones I like best... are made into pies!" are uttered, I felt I really should start some form of documentation of all the pumpkins in my life. More specifically the below are all from a recent journey along the Silk Road.
( the omnipotence of pumpkinsCollapse )
Current Mood: amused