Interview meme (now with 100% more ponies)

There is an interview thingy going around right now and because it’s Friday (and I’m still so enthralled because I forgot this morning and finding out was like finding out today was FUCKING CHRISTMAS), Imma do this thing. ::nods to K. Marie Criddle for the impetus:: And for added fun, I’m going to answer all of these with as many pop culture references and song lyrics as I can:

Are you a rutabaga?

Negative. I am a meat popsicle.

When was the last time you ate lion meat?

Shortly before the last time I woke up naked in the forest beside a deer with its throat ripped out.  They were unrelated incidents.

Upload a heartwarming picture of something that makes you smile.

I really do

If you could go back in time and kick the crap out of someone, who would it be?

"Hey guys! This lightbulb is powered exclusively by my dickishness!"

Name one habit that makes people plot your demise.

I love many things very deeply. If you don’t love those things too, I will spend most of my time subtly trying to convince you your life is small and broken without them.

What song would you like to be playing while you are kicking the crap out of someone?

Tom Waits’ Misery is the River of the World would provide a nice reinforcement of the message the beatee should be taking away. “For want of a life, a knife was lost…”

Where da muffin top at?

1997

How many goats, stacked atop one another like Yertle’s Turtles, would it take to reach the moon?

It would depend on how we would secure the goats to one another, and whether or not the goats have to be alive for it to count. If the latter is not important, the former problem becomes much easier to solve. However, if they must be alive, first we have to figure out how much additional height the spacesuits for the goats would add. But using an average between all possible methods, it would take 6.022 x 10^23 goats.

Describe yourself using obscure Latin words.

“A posse ad esse.” Though on my tombstone, I wouldn’t mind having “Acta est fabula plaudite.”

Why does evil exist?

Bruce Campbell’s exists. When Bruce exists, Evil exists to antagonize him. Therefore without Bruce, there is no Evil.

What the chiz are you thinking right now?

“Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.” – Who else?

* * *

In other news, I wrote a ridiculous story the other day based on a request from Marie, and it turned out so well that not only did she make an incredible piece of art based on it, but I decided to just go ahead and send it off to a magazine (I have a feeling that saying, “Why the fuck not?” is going to have a huge impact on the success of my writing career at some point). I won’t hear back for a bit, but still – felt good. It’s probably the funniest story I’ve ever written – and a perfect example of my favorite kind of humor: satire.

Next week, I’m going to Yosemite for the first time.

This weekend, my friend Rob and I are going to record as many songs as we can in one day.

And tonight I’m going to do absolutely nothing.

Do something beautiful this weekend in secret. Use it to smile for no apparent reason next week.

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I Love You Anyway

Second song for the Write-a-Thon is now complete! [+2 experience/+1 magic]

This one is for my friend Kat, who requested a song on the ukulele about farting that her sister could dance the hula to. I love Kat.

So here it is, in all its uke-tastic glory:

I Love You Anyway

There’s still plenty of time to donate and I’m eking ever closer to my goal. I want this album to happen. I’ve already got an amazing photographer on board to make the cover art. Don’t you want amazing cover art?

Oh, and this song is my first single and, as such, it will have a music video which I will unlock once I hit $300.

But for now I’m going to grab my ukulele and sit by a rooftop pool for a friend’s birthday and work on another song.

There’s a million days today could be for you – what are you gonna do with it?

Posted in Clarion Write-a-Thon, Music | 1 Comment

She’s afraid of the light in the dark

All the big things are taken care of for the Viable Paradise workshop this October (never have I been more happy to be able to finally afford to write the check that I wrote today), so all that’s left is a serious amount of reading. Seeing that I’ve barely had time to read the books for the Hugo Book Club my friends and I started, some priorities will have to be shifted if I want to find the time to do that, write and work on the Write-a-Thon songs.

Speaking of the Write-a-Thon: To all of you who’ve donated: THANK YOU. Not only are you supporting a great cause, but you’re kicking my butt into creative overdrive to do things that I’ve been avoiding doing for close to two decades (i.e. write fucking songs).

To all of you who are still thinking of donating, there’s still time. And oh yes, the album will be amazing.

It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that THINGS are starting to happen. Always I’ve felt the lurker – peeking over the shoulders of the people I admire. The problem becomes when those shoulders account for 360 degrees of the landscape. I want FACES. And they’re slowly resolving. You can talk to faces. Learn from them. Backs give you jack.

But the numbness is a blessing for now. Otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do with myself for the next three months.

Watched a movie this afternoon: Night Watch. On Netflix it was classified as a Russian Science Fiction trilogy about the struggle between light and dark. Ben finds weird shit on Netflix, and this easily falls into that category; unnecessary shots of the interior of engines and overly enthusiastic subtitles and all. While the plot stood well on its own, the thin folklore sprinkled throughout (much of it revealed for the convenience of the plot) hollowed the heart from the movie. Light versus dark isn’t a theme anymore – it’s been too overdone. In order to wring any life out of it, one has to weave so many other threads in and out of it that it acts more as an organizing principal than a theme (see Harry Potter), or just crash the plot forward in complete disregard of themes (see Star Wars), or even just have it as an internal struggle within a single character (Black Swan, et al.).

As such, Night Watch did none of that. And while it’s the first part of a larger story since I came away with a resounding “Meh” I won’t be spending any more time on it.

Now I’m going to try to take a stab and finishing the third part of this story I’ve been picking at all week. It deals with order and chaos and demons and six year old boys named Peter. It’ll be my first attempt at a straight up horror story when it’s done. I’m fond of it so far but I’ve been pulling back and forth between three different endings. But like they say: for every story, think of three endings and use the fourth.

And I don’t like the fourth option.

Final thing: the second song for the Write-a-Thon will be up by Saturday. Prepare your hips for dancing (just your hips – everything else must remain perfectly still).

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So many announcements, so few letters in the alphabet

I should start with the biggest news, which is that I got into the Viable Paradise workshop!

I would try and describe how excited I am about this, or how that excitement is dampened because I have to wait for three more months for it to start, or how that excitement ramps up again because it hasn’t fully set in that I got in yet, but I won’t. Because I just did.

I will be blogging about it while I’m there as much as the wifi at the hotel and my free time will allow (though I’m guessing “free time” there is only occupied by showering and sleeping, and both of those also may be optional).

My inbox has been exploding with the other student introductions while I continue to be lurker-ish. But that’s because

I am excited to announce that the FIRST commissioned song for the Clarion Write-a-Thon is now done! My friend Rob supplied some awesome embellishment to the original banjo and vocal track and I present it to you here, in all of its glory:

Ladies and gentlemen: Tiny Arms, Big Heart, Bigger Stomach (31 Flavors of People)

A permalink to the file on SoundCloud (including the option to download it) is here. My dearest Natalie requested a song on the banjo about a T-Rex who was sad because he couldn’t eat an ice cream cone due to his tiny arms. It came out much better than I had even hoped.

If you would like a song of your own, donations are still open through the first week of August and you can donate here. Remember: $20 buys you your own song about anything you want, and if I hit $400 (I’m getting close!) I’m releasing all of the songs as an album I will send to everyone who has donated at ANY level.

Also, I am doing collaborations on these songs (as is evidenced above), so if you want to get in on the fun, let me know and I’ll see if we can work something out. I’ve got 10 more to do.

I’m working from home today, which compounds the happiness exponentially.

Be good, love freely and go make some fucking art!

Posted in Viable Paradise | 5 Comments

Frozen in time, like so many lima beans

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… and jetpacks. Definitely jetpacks.

“This future sucks. I hate archiving and tagging everything.”

I read that on twitter tonight (by the hilarious royb0t), so I started writing about why I liked that one so much.

That’s really awesome, actually. We thought the future would have everything automatically indexed as it came along – real time monitoring of all of the world’s goods and services and personalities and buying preferances – all of humanity encoded on one big computer called the itnernet, which, in a sense, is an artificial intelligence. I mean, look at fucking Anonymous and 4-chan. It can so easily devolve into a mob mentality, but one that is slightly more intelligent. There are people pulling strings all over the world in this online stage, which is really just humanity’s own fascination with itself. I mean the internet can dig out every single person’s deepest, darkest secrets and make sure that EVERYONE knows about them. Weiner taking pictures of a weiner? That’s front page news.

People don’t know how to grapple with the implications of this. Everything you do is fodder for the swift, harsh judgement of the artificial intelligence of humanity. The values espoused on the internet are the lowest common denominator, but not in a bad way, but in that they relfect the true haertbeat of humanity. All actions are informed by all sides and debate is undertaken over who is right. How is that not the act of an id, an ego and a superego?

In any case, while all this is happening – we all want to be a part of this higher being – we’re opened up to the entire world of human history and experience. Anything you could possibly want to indulge in is available. Answers are available at the click of a button.

What kind of society does that breed, you ask? Well, I’ll there will be a new bell curve. On the one side there are the people that rely entirely on the iternet as the source of their knowledge. They will be the folks who lack creativity. They don’t bother to learn things themselves – just enough to get by. And then there will be the people who use it voraciously – gobbling up every snippet of information they can gather and constantly seeking, seeking, seeking. The day is filled with gleeful binges of info-snacking, flitting from obsession to obsession, each changing by the minute, soaking it up, storing it away with an almost ominscient precociousness, thinking that you’re becoming more and more intelligent, able to see more and more things, and that, in fact, you are existing in all of the time that has since passed. And you become humble, because you know there is so much you’ll never understsand. But that doesn’t daunt you, so long as you know the questions that need to be asked.

Because you know that with every sentence you read, you get a little more of the piece of the puzzle.

And because you know that if you run into anything you don’t understand, you can always go become the expert in it in two hours.

But both types want to be a part of it. That is undeniable. So they need to make their personality known and become involved in some way in the lives of others, to infect the datacloud not in one small geographical location, but people from all over the earth. And how they do that is by letting other people in by posting about themselves, and pursuing their own loves and  connections are made – long range synapses of adaptive behaviors. Because the beautiful part is that you can be anyone you want to be on the internet. And I’m not talking about lying about your gender or your age. I’m talking about you can be a truer person to yourself than you’d ever care to be in front of a being with a long-term memory (the internet has a very short term memory, but is capable of astounding feats of mental clarity when it comes to hindsight).

And so we upload, and tag and rearrange and crosspost and bleed the very marrow from your funny bone online so that people can maintain that viasge for you. It doesn’t matter if you can’t muster the same wit and whimsey when you’re not online. You’re leading two lives, and that’s one more than many people have.

So the simple statement, “the future sucks. I hate archiving and tagging everything,” becomes beautiful it its impllication.

We’ve seen this coming. Asimov told us it would be so. And now we’re here.

And we thought it was going to be milk and honey (and then blood and lilys and spring and fireworks). And we’re disappointed. But amusingly so.

Where is my flying car indeed.

Anyway, I’ll probably delete this in the morning upon a re-read when I’m less sleep-addled (and high on silly music-making).

I should hear back about Viable Paradise tomorrow or the next day. And my first commissioned song is nearly complete and ready for mocking. Tomorrow’s the end of the quarter and spirits are high at work. And I’ve got a story out in circulation and another few brewing. And a close friend is having a birthday this weekend. And I can’t possibly imagine a moment more perfect and full of anticipation as right now.

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Mnemomancy

I have officially celebrated the last birthday of my 20’s.

Like any birthday, it’s foisting reflection on me with the distinct feeling of otherness the day holds. Even normal Sunday activities are tainted by it. Everything feels like it should be saturated with meaning – every aspirin ingested a symbol for the slow decline in my body’s ability to naturally numb pain. Every slight moment of nausea is the physical manifestation of the chaos of memory stirred up by the relative position in space of the earth to the sun.

Mnemomancy: the conjuring of past lives using the alignment of the stars.

So I’m using that strange feeling – the one that lingers as one’s mind acclimates to an arbitrary but necessary uptick in demographic for the few days where recalling one’s age doesn’t involve recalling what year it followed by a brief moment of arithmetic – to write a story.

One that can only be written on this day and the few days to come before this feeling fades.

Dear 29,

Please be good to me. We only have 365 short days together before I leave you and all of your kin behind for good.

Love,

Kelly

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Everything is everything else

(Comic via Incidental Comics by Grant Snider)

I used to go searching for ideas. I would spend hours smoking cigarettes on balconies staring off into space trying to make them come to me. I read stories and comics and became convinced that my fevered and verdant brain was spinning wonderful tales that would never again simmer into my awareness (because after all, I did willingly shut the tap). There was creative karma, I said, and a muse once spurned is a wary lover.

But there are ideas everywhere, if you follow even your idlest of thoughts.

This comic is a loving example of just that.

Take a simple thought that comes to you in chaos or in peace and let it swing and sway in your arms and it will eventually make you smile. Wonder is everywhere because everything is everything else.

And it’s because everything is everything else that fiction works so well to begin with.

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Help support a future Hugo nominee

So it’s no secret I’m working on being a kick-ass writer, but I did want to post my shameless appeal for donations for this year’s Clarion Write-a-Thon. Continue reading →

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And they all pretend they’re orphans

Ain’t that the truth (via the always wonderful Wondermark comics by David Malki)

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