indicative of what you will find in this journal
art, colouring
Upon hearing about Emergency Ponchos for the first time nearly a year ago (that is, in early 2008), and having them described as "plastic bags with hoods" (sadly without any emergency provisions like rations and/or screwdrivers, sonic or no), this was the image they conjured:

"Quick, kids; pull out your Emergency Ponchos!"
edited because I realised how unfair it was to only let the quick kids have EPs.

That pretty much sums up my entire brain.

Queer Honi
Pan, dark fantasy, Faun
It's kind of strange, coming back here after so long. Strange to see that nothing's changed. Strange to see how I left things. Strange to think how it must seem to you that I left in a huff after my audition for Putting It Together, as amazing as I touted it as having been, wrapped in a shroud of misery and shame when I didn't get a part.

There was no huff; I just stopped writing for a while. And this is my writing's journal. However...

Near the end of last year I (thought I had) started dating a guy. We gave him the name LipRing, as real names mean little in the world of the online, and things were good and fun. It turned out he was on the editorial team for the queer edition of Honi Soit, and when I mentioned that I occasionally wrote things he asked me to submit something; the theme was Monsters.

I hadn't written anything much in a while - I hadn't even blogged much of the mildly melodramatic goings on around Putting It Together. And I think that might be the reason why, when I was asked to write something monster-shaped, I stumbled somewhat over the process.

I did end up writing something though. It was a poem, and it was ok. It may not be an amazing work of poetic genius, but it has rhythm and structure and some good lines and it's somewhat a follow up to one of my favourite pieces, The One Man Masquerade which was submitted the previous year to the Queer Bull. LipRing told me it was going to be edited slightly (some grammatical things I'd been 50/50 about myself), and I was ok with that; what's a little snipping here and there when I'm going to have another work in another publication with my name on it?

LipRing invited me to the launch party of Queer Honi, and I showed up after work. A lot of the copies of the magazine had already been taken, but there were still a few by the door and I promised myself I'd pick one up on my way out.

I didn't. Surprise.

That night, LipRing and I fell apart. Or rather, at some point between that night when he told his friends that we were just "friends who occasionally sleep together" and the next morning when he told me that, yes, that's how he really felt. His response was that he liked being single; he didn't want to date anyone; he was too much of a slut to settle down. The first two statements I could have pretended to be ok with, but the third raised some questions and posed some level of risk that I wasn't comfortable with. So we stopped not-dating and fell to almost complete radio silence.

Today, after being invited to submit something to this year's Queer Honi, I decided to look up the last edition online and see what final form my poem had taken under their editing. Turns out it wasn't published at all.

Isn't that just a kick in the pants.

A Tale of Two Men and My Attempts to Become Them
road is long, real world fiction, bare, journey
or: Call Backs

So how'd they go? They went amazingly. Quite possibly the best auditions I've ever done. Go me.

Of course, I have to give a massive thank you to citizenerased for being my number one cheer leader this past week. I think the most encouraging thing he said was when I said I was going to be up for a while longer on the night before the call back to watch Superman and Batman in an animated DC film Public Enemies (which he shared with me as a pick-me-up after... ugh, what I saw on facebook) under the pretence of going over my lyrics, and he was all ... lyrics? I reminded him of my call back and he told me he already had an image of me completely owning it that he'd stopped worrying about it.

Prettiest pompoms I ever did see.

The morning of the call back, we were messaging back and forth in character (for he is Superman, and I the goddamn Batman) about using my batarangs and his heat vision and super breath to take out the trash, so to speak, and it was the best psych up session I could have asked for. (It helped that I was dressed for a party and therefore even hotter than usual.) All in all, I was flying. So much so that when I got off the bus and walked over to serve up some mayhem, I was strutting. Strutting. Something I very rarely do unless I'm showing off my gay genes. But I was going to own this shit. And I did.

Mayhem? Hells yes I brought it.

I left that room so proud of myself that I don't even care if I get a part. There are enough pros and cons to Putting It Together that I'm just happy I could stand up to my fears and my worries and the constantly flashing nerve cluster in my gut and the Team Slut captain and everything that this past month has thrown at me, and say "Skullfuck you!" loud and proud. Then sing at them, and sing at them well.

Yeah, I kick arse. What of it?

I must be seriously angry.
fairy tale, dreams, general fantasy
Last night/this morning, by way of dream, I squared off against a not-entirely-human being and held my own. To me this means something, as I did three things that in dreams I am so very rarely able to do: run, shout, and affect "physical" things as in a fight. And when I say "rarely", I mean "I remember one other time when I was able to do these things. In 22 years of dreaming. Once.".

I must be seriously angry.

DreamCollapse )

watchmen, who will watch the watchers
Written: 12/05/10
Inspiration: House of Leaves?
Notes: I've been reading "House of Leaves" on and off for a while now, and it tells the tale of a man made insane by the writings of another, recently dead, man, upon the topic of a movie that doesn't exist. As he sorts through the mess of manuscript he has found in a dank black trunk, the unreality of the film, its maddening topic - a house which is bigger on the inside, one day growing a corridor which leads to nowhere and only sometimes back again, the den of a growling beast which never shows its face but stalks the adventurers who attempt to investigate the strange depths swelling inside and outside the house - becomes his reality and the beast, pseudo-affectionately nicknamed Mr Monster, begins to lurk just beyond the realm of his perception. The book is divided into the essay on the non-existent film by its creator, Zampano, and the life story of the man who finds the trunk as told through footnotes on the essay. It is disturbing. It is amazing. It is cold and bloody and full of heart.
I want to stop writing poems now, kthnx.
Rating: poem.

unnamedCollapse )

I has a question...
watchmen, who will watch the watchers
Recently I've stopped listening to my iPod. For two reasons.

Reason the first: music clogs my brain. While I delight in working smothered in sound, whether from radio or cassette tape or CD or mp3, find it easier to concentrate on the reading of readings and the writing of essays if there is a distinct lack of silent space around me, I can't think creatively in it - I become a blank slate or silent void. I also can't dream, which is a bad, bad thing for me; I like to think of my dreams as my superpower - absolutelybatshitcrazy and with no real world, crime-fightin' application, but then again all of my friends' superpowers are of the non-superhero variety. Anyway. The reduced cognitive functioning of my brain from musical cloggature extends beyond the period of listening, in much the same way that caffeine stays in your system beyond the last sip of coffee. Sure, I can function easily enough, but a lot of my more engaging personality traits are hard-wired into my crazy, which is itself hard-wired into my creativity, and that's what the music stifles. So to get my Write back on, I need to have less music.

Reason the second: I've listened to all the music on my iPod already. A lot.

That had very little to do with my question; I just felt like writing it. :D

So, the other day, while waiting for my bus, instead of pulling out my iPod and suffocating my brainspace for half an hour, I decided to exercise it. It was a productive half hour of travel in which I got some back-story rolling for Pixie, or more accurately: his wife. Long story short, I had them marry, have a happy year of childless marriage, and then killed her.

My question today is this: is it creepy, or does it push feminist buttons, if I have her die purely to inspire him to use his powers, at which point he takes her voice and uses it as a template for a vocal interface with his artificially intelligent home/office management system? Or does it rely too much on how I execute it (no pun intended) for an answer to that question? There is also be a visual/holographic interaction capability, which could further reduce (her/the memory of her) to a tool-like thing. However, the flip-side is that she sort of gets to keep on living... ish... kinda... ?

thoughts on characters and future works
road is long, real world fiction, bare, journey
The Pixie
I've been thinking today that perhaps I should change some of the parameters of the Pixie's teleportation power - make it less about an equivalent trade, more just grabbing hold of matter at the destination and pulling himself through there by; when the destination is of a fluidic nature (gas or liquid), some of said fluid is pushed back through whatever tunnel has been used and arrives at the point of origination (less so when liquid, more so when gas, but either way the body replaces what is directly in the "landing zone"); teleporting into a solid requires far more energy as that IS an equivalent exchange scenario. Likewise, teleporting into low density fluid is harder than teleporting into high density fluid as there's less to hold on to in low density - 'porting to ground level is easier than 'porting into open airspace as there are solids near to the "landing zone". Therefore fluidic matter is always pulled towards a "landing zone" just prior to the Pixie "landing", and fluidic matter always puffs out from the point of origin, as some amount is always exchanged in both directions. It would also take more energy to 'port somewhere further away than closer as a greater extension of the psychic tendrils which grip onto matter around a "landing zone" would be required. It would also cost more energy the more he wants to carry on each 'port - most clothing would be close to negligible; an extra person would be bearable; a car taxing; an entire house nearly impossible without assistance.

Soon, I might start working on some basic sketches of his HQ... beyond the 3 square inch sketches I have already, I mean. He likes hexagons, this dude, though I'm not sure why. Also: thank god for Google Maps. I wanted to give him a mapping/imaging satellite of his own, because I've wanted to give SOMEONE a satellite of their own for ages now and I figured he could use it to find good 'port sites via a link-up in his HQ. Then I realised one satellite can't really watch the entire globe at once, and having access to a satellite network would either require megabucks like Batman's, or computer-hacking skills like Batman's. Dude's an architect, sure, but still... not exactly an "own your own satellite" sort of salary. Nor does it require that sort of computer-based skill set. Hence: thank god for Google Maps.

Though I may need to rename Google... Ah well, I already did Twitter, and I'm thinking these sorts of corporations will be cross-universal names. Unless I start writing high fantasy...

So much for not thinking about my mutants too much recently :p

Erin, the weather goddess
I have her Daughters of the Storm myth almost completely written. I just have one small part early on to figure out and finish; the idea of writing god sex is just mildly intimidating to me, for some reason. But it should be done in the next couple of days... I hope. And in writing it, I had an idea for a second myth - Erin fights a dragon.

Pantheon in general
I have some more stuff coming, besides Erin's myths: Privacy's Tower; Belfor the warrior (god of small things' pantheon I think?) apparently I didn't get to write notes before I got where I was going - all I have is a heading in my notebook :( ; Switch magic; Dream lore; Half Moon Festival from the god of small things' pantheon.

Stuff in general
I have both a SUMS Committee Revue Act and an advert for Revue written. The theme is 7 Deadly Sins. I'll likely put them both up closer to camp once I've had some feedback/concrit/editing from the committee. The advert could also be just another Revue act if I so choose, and is musical - I rewrote "A Little Priest" from Sweeney Todd to be thematically appropriate; each pie is now a deadly sin. I've spent some portion of today trying to arrange it for two voices and piano, but my accompaniment is not going so well :( It'll get there though. Probably.

All this writing makes me pretty happy :)

The Law Of Conservation Of Mass
watchmen, who will watch the watchers
I have some questions of the theoretical science type. The current one is this: if you had to replace an average human male's total mass with an equivalent amount of air (i.e. one hydrogen atom for one hydrogen atom, one helium for two hydrogen... maybe some extra electrons - but mass not weight), what would the volume of said air be?

It's for a new (semi)superheroic character - The Pixie.

Pixie can teleport. Process of teleportation takes Pixie at Point A and replaces him with an equivalent amount of matter at Point B. Point B is a position in the air at sea level. What volume of air at Point B would be required to replace Pixie at Point A?

I suppose the other way to approach the question is: if you were turn an average male into gas, what volume would it take up at sea level?

I'm trying to get an idea of how small a room he can 'port into. How much air will be sucked out of a room he 'ports into/how much air will billow out when he 'ports out. That sort of thing.

My problem is that I don't know who to ask even for a rough idea. And everyone on the internet knows that when you don't know who to ask you ask the internet. I have a vague memory of highlyeccentric mentioning a forum/community in which writers could ask questions for writing purposes and receive relatively reliable answers... does that sound at all familiar?


I'm really happy with what I've got for Pixie so far: he's got a suit (black, with a pink shoulder cape thing), an almost-definitive logo, a lair/batcave (or whatever pixies call home)/HQ, and some basic laws surrounding his ability. By no means is he complete yet - while I think he has a wife, and I think he's an architect when not being The Pixie, I don't know his name nor where he was able to source all his materials and funds nor how he was able to build his underground HQ nor where it is exactly. Nor am I sure if he's a loner or a team player; I'm not even sure if he's in the same universe as Cassie (Cassiopeia) and James (Scythe).

Anyway, please help if you can. Muchos appreciados!*

*Worst Spanish ever.

(no subject)
watchmen, who will watch the watchers
I've been pretty productive lately. I like that.

Nothing like the productivity of The Writing Challenge, but productive nonetheless. My brain is waking up. My fingers, too. And they're back to being on speaking terms; it's nice when body parts play nice and get along.

I've been thinking more, lately, too. Not so much about my mutants... though I do like to think about Cassie from time to time, still - she's my favourite. About Project: Ether Engine. About my Pantheon and its gods. In fact, I now have an idea for a cute bit of interaction between Dragon and Lachlan late in the Project, a bit of back story/a myth for Erin which I'll put up eventually, and have (from ages ago) a small bit of lore for the god of small things, to likewise be put up eventually.

I'm actually most excited about Erin's myth. I have all the details (all the non-fine details, at least), I just need to write it out in story format; it currently sits on my phone in the space of 8 text messages, mildly ramblesome and time-jumpy; I'll fix that before I post it.


Journey End
fairy tale, dreams, general fantasy
Written: 19/02/10
Inspired by: a trip to Brisbane. Specifically: the plane-ride thereof.
Notes: I had a window seat, so.
Rating: G

Journey's EndCollapse )


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