Fresh Facebook Page, Fresh Flash Fiction, Fresh Thoughts…

Hey! Here’s some miniature news. (Miniature news is delivered by ‘ickle pixies with high-pitched voices. It’s better than ‘Big News‘ which is often just ridiculous…)

I set up a Facebook page and you can go there, ‘Like’ it, follow it or leave comments if you so desire. It’s called ‘Jamazing Things’ and I will do my best to festoon it with Jamazing things. I figured it might be a way to spread my jam further across cyberspace and establish a public front. I also figured it would allow me to devote my private profile entirely to bad summer selfies and in-jokes with Italian friends without any irritating distractions.

I’m not sure – it’s an experiment but you can go find me on the Matrix Fakebook now and it may be worth watching out while I roll out some rad new designs (writing, doodling, even more miniature doodling, war plans, revolutions, new religions, I-just-don’t-know-what-yet-but-it-could-be-thrilling). Otherwise, doodles are happening (see the unicornscape below) and yesterday I returned to ‘James vs. Story Cubes‘ and dashed out a couple of short riffs of flash-fiction. (One of them is about a warrior king who got crabs, if you’re into that sort of thing.)

Oh, and I’ve also been thinking about Twitter as well lately. I’ve been very much out of the loop and alienated from that thing, and I got worn out long ago with its ‘rolling news reaction’ grind. Altogether, too many inane opinions, too much snark, too much negativity and the whole unfiltered stream-of-consciousness aspect got dull. Stream-of-consciousness broadcasting is perilous business, especially when my own stream-of-conscious oscillates between overexcited geeksplosions in all-caps and hideous melancholy. From there, trying to understand my Twitter feed looks like that moment in Star Trek where Spock mindmelded with a traumatised pizza. But, hey, maybe it’s time to try a tiny-comeback and engage with it again. Yeah, in conclusion I think I’m going to tweet more – more than just dumping my links – and I think I’m going to mostly tweet unfathomable absurdities because trying to make sense and be clearly understood in this nonsensical Universe is futile.

There is my miniature news, narrated in a high-pitched voice by a shrunken-down version of myself. (I thought it might help me with these miniature doodles and make me cool like Ant-Man, but now I can’t reach the cutlery drawer. Hurm.) More soon, but for now, take care out there and, please, spare a thought for all the unicorns, pizza aliens and pigs that have suffered…

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Unicorn Farm…

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James vs. Story Cubes: Furious Fingers Flying for Fresh Flash Fiction…

*Clears throat* Alright! Are you sitting comfortably, my Preciouses? Good – then I’ll begin…

Once upon a time (last week) I had the thought “Hey, I haven’t started a new blog in a while” while simultaneously having the thought “Hey, I want to get back to writing some flash fiction“. These thoughts started dancing together and then they grabbed me and dragged me down a path of fresh creative action.

Here’s fresh action: ‘James vs. Story Cubes‘. It’s like Alien vs. Predator, except better/worse. Here’s how it’s going to work: I’m going to roll my set of Voyages edition Rory’s Story Cubes (recommended for fun with friends or personal creative impetus) and come up with short stories inspired by the images in oooh, say, around 10 minutes and no longer. The results – whether they be good, bad or abominable – will be written up on the new Tumblr blog on a relatively frequent basis. (Probably a few times a week.)

I figure this will be fun creative exercise – on-the-fly story fabrication with built-in limits and without excessive thought. I’ll see what happens (probably multiple atrocities). You can see what happens by heading to the James vs. Story Cubes site and I hope you enjoy what I come up with in the clutch when I’m challenged by the Nine Perilous Pictorial Polyhedrons of Power.

Alrighty? Write on… *attacks the story cubes, and they return fire with extreme prejudice…*

Pictonaut Short Poem Challenge: ‘Those Eyes So Green’…

Okay, write on. Yesterday I uploaded a short story titled The Death of Earth Patrol for the monthly Pictonaut short story challenge (set, as ever, by the eminent John Steele). That was a piece loosely inspired by August’s image, and I thought I’d try and push my catch-up mission further by getting September’s done ASAP. ASAP is today because I’ve written it, though it’s not a short story. It’s a very short poem and it’s based on this photograph (source unknown, I’m afraid)…

Those eyes… so green…

So, a pair of beautiful green eyes on a face veiled by bright orange fabric. I decided to write a pretty little ditty about it that leaned towards some of my main interests instead of concocting a longer narrative that I don’t really care about. I’m not much of a poet, but I am a Cosmic Romantic so, in total, here’s a thing about an interstellar traveller come to Earth to grace our rock with the most amazing eyes in the galaxy. It’s partly inspired by all the space rock I listen to, Pixies’ Andro Queen and things like the Marvel Cinematic Universe and stories like A Princess of Mars. I’m all for cosmic wonder and building relationships with graceful, intelligent alien beings (platonic and romantic) so, yeah, that’s how this comes to be, I suppose. Its title is Those Eyes So Green and this introductory ramble is now longer than the poem itself so I’ll just let you read it and go back to waiting for the love of my life to arrive from another star system…

 

Adele Dazeem and Flash Fiction Inspired by the Oscars…

The 86th Academy Awards ceremony happened the other night. As ever, the event was an odd affair that leaves me ambivalent. I like the celebration of cinema, the lauding of great movies and the heartfelt and inspiring speeches of humbled performers who deserve accolades. I don’t like the fact that – unlike the BAFTAs – the Oscars feel drawn out and, bizarrely enough, badly co-ordinated and stage-managed. There’s very little in the way of zip and energy. It’s a long trawl through awkward tumbleweed moments and a whole lot of self-awareness. All the hype and A-list glamour just adds to the peculiarity of the whole shebang. Of course, it gets even weirder when really odd stuff happens…

Ellen DeGeneres ordered some pizzas and took some selfies and I guess ‘Oscar host turns into a stereotypical 15-year-old’ is a bit unusual but, really, I’m not impressed. Matthew McConaughey’s full-on Southern preacher acceptance speech was way further out there but the stand-out weird moment of this year was undoubtedly John Travolta’s introduction of Idina Menzel ahead of her performance of “Let It Go” from Frozen. Travolta’s baffling mispronunciation spawned an online meme frenzy. Worse news: it inspired me to blast out some flash fiction in honour of Adele Dazeem. Here is that very short piece of writing for your consideration…

Academy Award Disappointment for Adele Dazeem

Her cell phone rings. She looks at the screen and sees Max’s fizzog. She doesn’t want to answer.

She really doesn’t want to answer.

She answers. Fuck it.

Yeah?

Adele! Honey! Hey, how ya doin’?

That sigh says it all, “honey”. Urgh.

Awwww, c’mon, hon… aaaaah, did you, ahhh, tune in?

She gulps. Yeah…

She said she wasn’t going to tune in.

She tuned in anyway.

So? he inquires, cautiously.

So… the sigh is heavier and soaked in sadness.

She’s hurting.

She’s hurting so bad.

She was good, huh? I mean, sure she’s Idina Menzel and she put on a good show but nowhere near what you’d-a brought to the party. I suppose folks are happy, what with her singin’ it in the movie an’ all but, hey, the whole shebang was a real drag, anyhow…

There is sorrow in the silence and, sensing it, he stops. Max figures himself as an empathetic guy. It’s why his clients like him, he tells himself.

Listen, Adele. Hon, sugar, it’s… it’s okay…

It’s not frickin’ okay, Max, she says choking back bitter tears, her tender eye stinging as she does so.

Well, what I mean, is ahhh, at least he still said your name! That’s somethin’ right? John Travolta said your name, honey!

It was my night, Max. It was my moment and that moment is gone. Forever.

Awwwww, there’ll be other times! You bet your last nickel there will! I can guarantee it!

No, Max. I’m not sure there will be and I don’t care anyway. I wanted my time to be last night and it was taken away from me.

Awww, sugar, these things happen. How is the eye, anyhow?

She’s too choked up to answer. Truth is it’s real bad. It’s swelled up terribly and the discharge is just gross. It’s hurting, but not as much as her pride.

Awww hell Adele! Damn that pink eye! I tell ya, it’s just the worst luck! The worst, worst luck, honey!

You’re tellin’ me, Max…

But, you know, it ain’t the end of the world, hon. You’re sick now but… you’ll get over it soon enough…

Okay, she’s heard enough.

Shit Max, don’t start with any of your ‘better luck next time’ crap ’cause I can’t take it now. I am sick, I am devastated and I’ve had the greatest moment of my life ruined by frickin’ conjunctivitis.

Hey hey, hon! Easy! I know it feels bad right now but, y’know, don’t get upset! Calm! Calm! Let it go…

Adele Dazeem hangs up and the tears stream and stream. The weeping will go on and on and the inflamed eyelid will carry on stinging like a bitch and the hurt will throb on forever.

Forever until she can let it go…

Short Story: ‘Slow Night’…

Nice night for knocking out a short-story on-the-fly, off-the-cuff and in-the-moment, don’t you think?

I was feeling flash fiction. I was reading a Ray Bradbury interview. Altogether I was inspired to turn aside from other trivial pursuits for 10 minutes to blast out a very short story as an enjoyable writing exercise. No overthinking or processing out or heavy editing or procrastinating or anything else: just typing out a spontaneous tale, simple as.

Here is that very short spontaneous story: a blast of flash fiction called ‘Slow Night’ for your consideration as bedtime reading…

Slow Night

Slow night, he said.

Yes, he agreed.

And it was a slow night. He listened to the electric hum, barely alive but just about there holding up the emptiness. An ocean of ennui that just went on and on through which he would swim without moving a muscle.

To be in waves and feel the currents but yet the waves do not roll or move for the moons aren’t in orbit and the sea is so still. Those were his sensations on the slow night.

Up above the stars seemed to be sleeping. Blanketed by blackness, oh-so-forlorn up beyond the breathless air.

Would they twinkle or glimmer? They did not on the slow night.

Life in slow motion on this slow night.

He was on the watch, but what to watch? Lethargic, he just felt lost and futile on the slow night, uninspired and with nothing to do but maintain a watch where there was nothing to watch. He was listless, but yet no anxiety accompanied his languor. A strange peace flowed through tired joints, nerves, his biological machinery. The resigned malaise of being a man in slow motion on a slow night on the watch over the fields.

No crackles. No charges, surges or sparks. The fields rested lightless, the infinite coils comatose. The plant seemed abandoned but he knew that what it was not as it seemed on the slow night. Life was sleeping beneath the distant dome, dimmed to post-twilight setting. Energy-saving. Everything energy-saving and in hibernation state on the slow night.

All life around was sleeping. He was sure it was sleeping. He was sure all was asleep except himself.

Nothing except himself alive and awake and aware and holding on in spite of the slowness of the slow, slow night.

No transit tubes travelling. No discharges or flares crackling out of the generator fields. Just the soft electric hum, a prolonged pause. Just the languid slumbering stars. Just the distant dome of low lustre.

Just him. Slow night, he said.

Yes, he agreed in reply. A reply to himself, the slow night finally slowing him to a stop. His watch ended with a soft fading drift scored to the paused electric hum. Eyes closing, function halting and everything ceasing to be awash in the emptiness and entropy of the slow night.

Search Engine Adventures and Kit Harrington Fan Fiction…

Sometimes, search engines can take you strange places. One example: while researching ‘best Sean Bean deaths‘ recently I somehow ended up being directed to an excellent recipe for falafel. That’s not actually true but in the weird world of tags, SEO, promoted links, algorithmic sorcery and other things I don’t fully understand, it could happen.

Regardless, sometimes people put queries into search engines and end up on my site. Phrases that have led people here include “infinite golden sea“, “squiggly squid“, “things to do in clayton, nc” (sorry, I’m not a small town in North Carolina) and “german expressionism get from the faves“. There’s also “van dam robocop” (something relevant here) and “thinggs that will be big in 2014” (I got this) so it appears that I attract readers who can’t spell or are lazy when it comes to typing things into Google. I know I’m a bit of a pedant when it comes to these things but really, it’s disrespectful to misspell ‘Jean-Claude Van Damme’. Tssk…

Anyway, the only ‘search engine terms that have sent people here’ on my WordPress dashboard at the moment is an interesting, intriguing one. Someone (Hey you, whoever you are!) arrived on my site after Googling “kit harington fan fiction tumblr“. This isn’t a Tumblr site, nor is Kit Harrington spelled with only one ‘R’. There is also no Kit Harrington fan fiction on this website so I fear that somewhere out there there’s a very disappointed individual.

I feel bad about this – both because of my contribution to someone’s disappointment and the dearth of Kit Harrington fan fiction around here. I need to rectify this. Thus, I decided to write some Kit Harrington fan-fiction so that my main website has some and so that the people get exactly what they want from the internet. Ask and you shall receive, because I’m generous like that and just want to make people happy. Here is the Kit Harrington fan fiction, especially for you…

Search Engine Adventures with Kit Harrington

It was a cold day on the Game of Thrones set. It was a cold day every day on the Game of Thrones set. Kit Harrington – the young actor who plays Jon Snow the Northern bastard – was holed up in his trailer, keeping himself warm. He was also trying to keep himself entertained.

Kit Harrington was bored. Bad lighting had meant a delay in that day’s shooting. He’d been sat there for hours, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting for the call. Iceland’s weather wasn’t being supportive today. The wait to start shooting again went on and on and on and on.

Kit Harrington had had a nap. He’d done some crunches. He’d made a cup of peppermint tea. He’d called his agent to check in and have a chat for a couple of hours. He’d re-read George R.R. Martin’s entire bibliography. Still, the call didn’t come. Kit Harrington’s patience was wearing very thin.

Desperate for a new distraction to pass the time, Kit Harrington flipped open his laptop and turned it on. It made a warm welcoming noise as it booted up. He opened the browser and started to enter random search terms into Google for kicks. ‘Joffrey slap‘ got tedious after a while and ‘beautiful horse photos‘, ‘bastard etymology‘, ‘what time is it in Winterfell?‘ and ‘is anybody there?‘ failed to raise him out of his ennui.

Now listless and descending into the lowest of low ebbs, Kit Harrington typed out his name. He was loath to Google himself for that way lies madness and tremendous hurt. Nevertheless, impulsively deciding that he’d exhausted all other options Kit Harrington went ahead and did the unthinkable. As his eyes alighted on his own name appearing on the screen he felt a sublime streak of masochistic curiosity surging in his breast. He figured he might as well do the even more unthinkable. He added the words’ fan fiction‘, a wicked smile flashing across his face. Then Kit Harrington pressed enter.

The search engine responded with a ream of promising hits signposted with hyperlinks. Without hesitating, Kit Harrington clicked the first link. It was the personal website of some hack writer and the top post was a story about Kit Harrington. Kit Harrington started to read it. In the story Kit Harrington was bored and decided to tap ‘Kit Harrington fan fiction’ into a search engine in order to amuse himself.

Kit Harrington felt considerable unease and confusion.

Kit Harrington/Jon Snow: “…”