Books.
Got a small download for the green book last night; will post it tonight, hopefully.
Haven't had an opportunity to do anymore voice work, but have stocked up on tapes. Privacy is a bit of an issue so I'm looking for cheap recording space. I may attempt to use my bass guitar as an aid in shifting my consciousness, which would also help cover up the mad chanting.
Haven't done anything else with the red book. I'm afraid of it.
Monday, May 31, 2004
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Random story generators.
The Flat Earth Games site no longer seems to have a random story generator, so I'm looking for new ones. They make for stupid stories, but they're great for sparking ideas.
A genre-less idea generator.
Two random generators. One does a short plot summary, the other a full and ludicrous yarn.
The Flat Earth Games site no longer seems to have a random story generator, so I'm looking for new ones. They make for stupid stories, but they're great for sparking ideas.
A genre-less idea generator.
Two random generators. One does a short plot summary, the other a full and ludicrous yarn.
Donde es la pasta?
I still don't have a job.
This irks me.
I've really ramped up my efforts, too: cold-calling bars, shops and caffs, punting out CVs to hostels and factories, signing up with agencies, leaning on said agencies, checking job boards and newspapers obsessively, putting up ads... nothing.
This is weird. I'm inclined to put it down to some sort of magickal interference from forces. I just wish I knew what I was supposed to be doing instead. I tried alternatives to conventional employment. I tried all sorts of stuff all last year. I'm still trying.
It isn't working. I can't sell stuff I make because I have no (legal) outlet. I can't set up a reiki practice because I have nowhere to work from, no money to rent a venue or buy the equipment I need (like a massage table and stuff). I'm submitting enough short stories to sink a battleship, but I'm just not getting any sales (at least, not at pro rates). It isn't working, and neither am I.
Help me out here, spooky perverts. Throw me a bone, eh? A person can't keep on just floundering around in the fog like this. You're supposed to be all guideful and arcane-knowledge-having; how about chucking a clue my way?
Bloody disembodied weirdos. No commonsense, that's your problem.
On the selling stuff topic: I've decided to have a serious stab at making stuff to sell on eBay. Talismanic bits and bobs, spooky pictures, that sort of thing. I need to look into shipping and stuff, see how expensive it'll be, whether to sell overseas or stick to Spain. The practicalites. You know.
I still don't have a job.
This irks me.
I've really ramped up my efforts, too: cold-calling bars, shops and caffs, punting out CVs to hostels and factories, signing up with agencies, leaning on said agencies, checking job boards and newspapers obsessively, putting up ads... nothing.
This is weird. I'm inclined to put it down to some sort of magickal interference from forces. I just wish I knew what I was supposed to be doing instead. I tried alternatives to conventional employment. I tried all sorts of stuff all last year. I'm still trying.
It isn't working. I can't sell stuff I make because I have no (legal) outlet. I can't set up a reiki practice because I have nowhere to work from, no money to rent a venue or buy the equipment I need (like a massage table and stuff). I'm submitting enough short stories to sink a battleship, but I'm just not getting any sales (at least, not at pro rates). It isn't working, and neither am I.
Help me out here, spooky perverts. Throw me a bone, eh? A person can't keep on just floundering around in the fog like this. You're supposed to be all guideful and arcane-knowledge-having; how about chucking a clue my way?
Bloody disembodied weirdos. No commonsense, that's your problem.
On the selling stuff topic: I've decided to have a serious stab at making stuff to sell on eBay. Talismanic bits and bobs, spooky pictures, that sort of thing. I need to look into shipping and stuff, see how expensive it'll be, whether to sell overseas or stick to Spain. The practicalites. You know.
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Red Book.
Okay, so having got the red book all fixed up I couldn't really make any more excuses, so I did my first entry last night. It wasn't up to much because I was so rattled by the whole thing, I couldn't tune out my thoughs and let the other voice take over.
I began by writing the phrase that cropped up last year, when the entity in question tried to hijack a communication I was having with my guides: "Blood of the lost, blood of the lost land." After a couple of repetitions, my pen wandered off and the communication kicked in. I got a few paragraphs of "I am POWER, I am HUNGER," ect ect chiz moan drone.
I asked the entity in question why, if it was so arse-kickingly hard, it was reduced to hanging around inside my noggin and generating thought intrusions, whereupon it ceased communication and sulked. Recieved a communication from the guides shortly afterwards, to the effect that a human mind is actually a pretty big place, very inviting territory for a wandering evil entity of no fixed abode. The impression I got was that these critters, whatever they are, don't actually realise that what they percieve within the mind isn't really real, but memory, imagination, dreams. They poke you in the right place (shame, guilt, misery), generate a pain response, and to them it's as if they've unleashed hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunami! Their whole world (your mind) shakes! What a blast! What power!
Meanwhile, back at the reality ranch, they may have persuaded you to mutter "bollocks" under your breath, if they're lucky.
I'm pleased to have discovered that this little beast is responsible for most, if not all, of my thought intrusions. I mean, this has been going on as long as I can recall.
A tentative analysis...
If we may temporarily adopt, for the sake of argument, a model which includes the existance of spirits having objective reality, and psychic attack as also having objective reality, we can look at the phenomenon thus:
Assume thought intrusions = a form of psychic attack. The very fact that the intrusions commenced at such a young age (around 2 1/2 years, IIRC) would seem to argue against an attack by a living individual. (No motivation for putting so much effort into a working.) Alternative: "Obsession", the action of a spirit attempting to access or influence the world, to express itself, through a living person via that person's thought processes. Since the entity would be searching for an easy mind to break into and poke around in, a small child becomes a desirable target. According to many versions of this model, such an entity may have very skewed perceptions, possibly unaware of what it is doing and of the consequences of its actions.
Usefulness of Red Book project:
Accepting the above model to be true implies that a problem exists requiring a solution. Project offers a solution.
Assuming the above model to be false (subjective), the project offers possible theraputic value. Therefore it is reasonable to proceed with the project, whilst monitoring its impact, positive and negative. If it becomes too time-consuming or otherwise intrusive, it must be abandoned.
I could be completely off about all this, of course, but my instinct is that I'm onto something. Really must maintain good contact with my guides while all this is going on. I may well need their help.
Okay, so having got the red book all fixed up I couldn't really make any more excuses, so I did my first entry last night. It wasn't up to much because I was so rattled by the whole thing, I couldn't tune out my thoughs and let the other voice take over.
I began by writing the phrase that cropped up last year, when the entity in question tried to hijack a communication I was having with my guides: "Blood of the lost, blood of the lost land." After a couple of repetitions, my pen wandered off and the communication kicked in. I got a few paragraphs of "I am POWER, I am HUNGER," ect ect chiz moan drone.
I asked the entity in question why, if it was so arse-kickingly hard, it was reduced to hanging around inside my noggin and generating thought intrusions, whereupon it ceased communication and sulked. Recieved a communication from the guides shortly afterwards, to the effect that a human mind is actually a pretty big place, very inviting territory for a wandering evil entity of no fixed abode. The impression I got was that these critters, whatever they are, don't actually realise that what they percieve within the mind isn't really real, but memory, imagination, dreams. They poke you in the right place (shame, guilt, misery), generate a pain response, and to them it's as if they've unleashed hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunami! Their whole world (your mind) shakes! What a blast! What power!
Meanwhile, back at the reality ranch, they may have persuaded you to mutter "bollocks" under your breath, if they're lucky.
I'm pleased to have discovered that this little beast is responsible for most, if not all, of my thought intrusions. I mean, this has been going on as long as I can recall.
A tentative analysis...
If we may temporarily adopt, for the sake of argument, a model which includes the existance of spirits having objective reality, and psychic attack as also having objective reality, we can look at the phenomenon thus:
Assume thought intrusions = a form of psychic attack. The very fact that the intrusions commenced at such a young age (around 2 1/2 years, IIRC) would seem to argue against an attack by a living individual. (No motivation for putting so much effort into a working.) Alternative: "Obsession", the action of a spirit attempting to access or influence the world, to express itself, through a living person via that person's thought processes. Since the entity would be searching for an easy mind to break into and poke around in, a small child becomes a desirable target. According to many versions of this model, such an entity may have very skewed perceptions, possibly unaware of what it is doing and of the consequences of its actions.
Usefulness of Red Book project:
Accepting the above model to be true implies that a problem exists requiring a solution. Project offers a solution.
Assuming the above model to be false (subjective), the project offers possible theraputic value. Therefore it is reasonable to proceed with the project, whilst monitoring its impact, positive and negative. If it becomes too time-consuming or otherwise intrusive, it must be abandoned.
I could be completely off about all this, of course, but my instinct is that I'm onto something. Really must maintain good contact with my guides while all this is going on. I may well need their help.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Under construction.
This new identity I will be inhabiting for the purposes of progressing in my magickal and creative work (see here) is taking longer to construct than I anticipated. I think you'll like her when she's done, though.
More magick: Have created the Red Book wherein I am to take dictation from an entity rather less kindly than M-L and R-M-L. Like them, its nature is unknown to me (Spirit? Ghost? Figment of my imagination?); unlike them, it is not a well-intentioned friend, or ally. It is the voice that chokes my voice, the thing that freezes me in my tracks and will not let me be, the thing that chases me through my dreams. I mean to fight it and bind it.
Couldn't find a red book with red pages, so had to purchace a book with red covers and dye the paper with ink. The result is appealing: blotchy, organic. It should be in interesting artifact if nothing else. The thought of actually starting it gives me the wiggins, but start it I must. I want my head back. The guides offer me a lot of protection; or rather, they offer me aid in protecting myself.
The guides refer to the entity's words as "the voice of your proof." In other words, by communicating with it I will see some concrete evidence that this aspect of my life isn't just a fantasy or a delusion. This could be big.
This new identity I will be inhabiting for the purposes of progressing in my magickal and creative work (see here) is taking longer to construct than I anticipated. I think you'll like her when she's done, though.
More magick: Have created the Red Book wherein I am to take dictation from an entity rather less kindly than M-L and R-M-L. Like them, its nature is unknown to me (Spirit? Ghost? Figment of my imagination?); unlike them, it is not a well-intentioned friend, or ally. It is the voice that chokes my voice, the thing that freezes me in my tracks and will not let me be, the thing that chases me through my dreams. I mean to fight it and bind it.
Couldn't find a red book with red pages, so had to purchace a book with red covers and dye the paper with ink. The result is appealing: blotchy, organic. It should be in interesting artifact if nothing else. The thought of actually starting it gives me the wiggins, but start it I must. I want my head back. The guides offer me a lot of protection; or rather, they offer me aid in protecting myself.
The guides refer to the entity's words as "the voice of your proof." In other words, by communicating with it I will see some concrete evidence that this aspect of my life isn't just a fantasy or a delusion. This could be big.
Toothless slurs.
Forget when or where I read it, but during some net-squabble or other about some damn thing (I was not involved personally, you understand) this phrase appeared: "the brits are all limeys anyway." I sat there and blinked a few times, trying to work out what they were on about. Yeah, the brits are limeys, the sofa's a couch, the telly's a TV, football is soccer, what's your point? Then I realised: Being called a limey is supposed to hurt my feelings.
Sorry, but, uhhh... before you decided to wield that mighty implement of emotional pain, did you pause to consider the fires in which it was forged? "Limey" was the nickname given to British sailors in Captain Cook's time because they, erm, ate citrus fruit. You know, for the vitamin C. To prevent scurvy, yes? I think you'll agree that as cultural/ethinc slurs go, "You don't have a life threatening vitamin deficiency! You've got most of your teeth! And no weeping sores to speak of!" lacks something.
Just sayin'.
Forget when or where I read it, but during some net-squabble or other about some damn thing (I was not involved personally, you understand) this phrase appeared: "the brits are all limeys anyway." I sat there and blinked a few times, trying to work out what they were on about. Yeah, the brits are limeys, the sofa's a couch, the telly's a TV, football is soccer, what's your point? Then I realised: Being called a limey is supposed to hurt my feelings.
Sorry, but, uhhh... before you decided to wield that mighty implement of emotional pain, did you pause to consider the fires in which it was forged? "Limey" was the nickname given to British sailors in Captain Cook's time because they, erm, ate citrus fruit. You know, for the vitamin C. To prevent scurvy, yes? I think you'll agree that as cultural/ethinc slurs go, "You don't have a life threatening vitamin deficiency! You've got most of your teeth! And no weeping sores to speak of!" lacks something.
Just sayin'.
Rectangular circle.
Meme doo jaw: school experiences. I have few, having been removed from school before the age of six. Nyahh, nyahh, nyahh, nyahh nyahh.
My most abiding memory is of the teacher bringing in a bunch of stuff and asking us what shape each bit of stuff was: coin = circle, plastic triangle = erm, triangle, etc chiz moan drone. Then she holds up the inside of a bog-roll and, amidst the tittering, asks what shape it is. I put up my five-and-a-bit year-old-hand.
"Yes, dear?"
"It's a rectangular circle," I announced.
They all laughed.*
That's about it, apart from the time someone mixed the white plasticine with the blue plasticine and we weren't allowed to play with the plasticine anymore for a whole week, and the time Rachel's mum sent her to school with Sellotape in her hair because she couldn't find any hairslides. And the other time that Rachel's mum sent her to school with Sellotape in her hair because she couldn't find any hairslides. Rachel's mum was all messed up.
*Except the teacher, who was a decent sort really. And Lurid says that was actually quite clever, and Lurid's good at sums so who won, eh? WHO WON?
Meme doo jaw: school experiences. I have few, having been removed from school before the age of six. Nyahh, nyahh, nyahh, nyahh nyahh.
My most abiding memory is of the teacher bringing in a bunch of stuff and asking us what shape each bit of stuff was: coin = circle, plastic triangle = erm, triangle, etc chiz moan drone. Then she holds up the inside of a bog-roll and, amidst the tittering, asks what shape it is. I put up my five-and-a-bit year-old-hand.
"Yes, dear?"
"It's a rectangular circle," I announced.
They all laughed.*
That's about it, apart from the time someone mixed the white plasticine with the blue plasticine and we weren't allowed to play with the plasticine anymore for a whole week, and the time Rachel's mum sent her to school with Sellotape in her hair because she couldn't find any hairslides. And the other time that Rachel's mum sent her to school with Sellotape in her hair because she couldn't find any hairslides. Rachel's mum was all messed up.
*Except the teacher, who was a decent sort really. And Lurid says that was actually quite clever, and Lurid's good at sums so who won, eh? WHO WON?
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Random brainstorm.
My next few big magickal projects are, in not particular order:
a) A spell to increase my writing output. Requirements: Paper, home-made ink and stylus, some sort of "Ocean" or "Marine" scented candle or incense, a blue rock.
b) A spell to increase my linguistic ability. Requirements: Red flat liquorice or similar, non-toxic ink, incense.
c) Speaking in Tongues. Requirements: A robe of white fabric, cassette recorder, extra tapes.
d) Renwewal/glamour spell. Requirements: Rose candles, matching notebook and pen.
e) The crimson book. Requirements: Notebook, red ink, black pen, ash, blood, something to wrap the sucker in cuz I don NOT want anything icky getting on my stuff, Nerves of Steel.
There's other stuff but I'm not telling you.
My next few big magickal projects are, in not particular order:
a) A spell to increase my writing output. Requirements: Paper, home-made ink and stylus, some sort of "Ocean" or "Marine" scented candle or incense, a blue rock.
b) A spell to increase my linguistic ability. Requirements: Red flat liquorice or similar, non-toxic ink, incense.
c) Speaking in Tongues. Requirements: A robe of white fabric, cassette recorder, extra tapes.
d) Renwewal/glamour spell. Requirements: Rose candles, matching notebook and pen.
e) The crimson book. Requirements: Notebook, red ink, black pen, ash, blood, something to wrap the sucker in cuz I don NOT want anything icky getting on my stuff, Nerves of Steel.
There's other stuff but I'm not telling you.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Comments and profiles and icons, oh, my.
Oh, how sweet. Blogger wants to be Livejournal when it grows up.
I've enabled the newly-built-in commenting system on here, but I'm not sure whether to lose the enations system coz Blogger doesn't seem to allow anonymous commenting: you need to sign up for a Blogger account before you can post. Anyway, if you want to use the Blogger comments, you have to click on the permalink (you know, the date/time thingy at the bottom of the post).
Oh, how sweet. Blogger wants to be Livejournal when it grows up.
I've enabled the newly-built-in commenting system on here, but I'm not sure whether to lose the enations system coz Blogger doesn't seem to allow anonymous commenting: you need to sign up for a Blogger account before you can post. Anyway, if you want to use the Blogger comments, you have to click on the permalink (you know, the date/time thingy at the bottom of the post).
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Nope.
Lesseenow... Sobriety--check, cold light o'day--check... hmm. Still no noticable degree of regret. My only regret is actually trying to engage with these pillocks as if they were regular folk. I'm pretty ashamed of myself there, as it goes. Must show more backbone in future.
Didn't realise how much I've let the frea-speach crowd mess with my head. Tiptoeing round ignorant, prejudiced wankers, oh dear me, mustn't upset the poor dear RACIST BASTARDS, constantly questioning my actions when the only question I should've been asking was "Hmmm. Just how big a new arsehole should I tear this guy?"
I feel sooo much better now.
Lesseenow... Sobriety--check, cold light o'day--check... hmm. Still no noticable degree of regret. My only regret is actually trying to engage with these pillocks as if they were regular folk. I'm pretty ashamed of myself there, as it goes. Must show more backbone in future.
Didn't realise how much I've let the frea-speach crowd mess with my head. Tiptoeing round ignorant, prejudiced wankers, oh dear me, mustn't upset the poor dear RACIST BASTARDS, constantly questioning my actions when the only question I should've been asking was "Hmmm. Just how big a new arsehole should I tear this guy?"
I feel sooo much better now.
Vent.
The 15th has came and went without incident. Random paranoia, I spose.
Talking of random paranoia: Oh look. An unusual number of proxy browser hits in my referral log. %Oooo, I wonder why? Let me think about why this might be...%
God, you people are sad. What are you looking for? A post where I accidently let slip that I'm in the pay of the Elders of Z.? Jeeze, if you can't get a clue, will you bigots please get lives?
You know what bugs me? The fact that I let certain events and people Over There affect me so much. The fact that I let myself get so cowed that I wouldn't even stand up and say what needed to be said, in case the heroic guardians of Frea Speach decided to whack me with a sock (puppet) full of sand. Well, I've no responsibilililities over here, except to myself. So...
FUCK YOU, YOU PATHETIC BIGOTS! I SPIT DOWN YOUR THROATS! I wouldn't widdle on you if you were on fire. And no, this isn't passive aggression. This is good old fashioned aggressive aggression.
Does it ever occur to you wankers that the reason you can't find any smart people to have a nice, quiet, dispassionate discussion of fucking Holocaust denial and the International Jewish Conspiracy is because the most cursory glance over the evidence should lay any doubt to rest, unless, that is, you happen be a right-wing nutbar. Does it ever occur to you that people may have come across these ideas, looked into them, and decided they were bullshit?
Give me strength.
No, the PofZ is NOT a fucking historical document! HOW STUPID ARE YOU? What, there's this ultra-powerful bunch of people who've been running the world since the year dot, and for some reason they find it necesary to write a 101 explanation of how well it's all going, and THEN accidently leave a copy lying around for a passing Czarist police officer to pick up? With a Post-It note on the front, no doubt: "Note to self--ultrasecret plans for total world domination--do not accidently leave lying around!"
For the love of Mike, why--why can't you read a damn book? Check facts? You're online, a click or two away from any information source your little hearts desire! How about, instead of sitting back and demanding that the rest of the world run around trying to find the material that might let them SQUEEZE SOME SENSE INTO YOUR HEADS, you do a bit of reading for yourselves? I mean, would that kill you? Are your critical faculties so atrophied through disuse that attempting to engage them would cause organ faliure? No, it's more fun to sit around fiddling with your pocket calculator, "proving" all sorts of shite with arithmetic. Because of course, secret conspiritors like to leave neat little numerological clues as to what they're up to for people like you to read. Because they're so secret, you see.
And then you have the nerve--the brass neck--the immortal crust--to invoke free speech when you aren't allowed to spout your filthy lies whenever and wherever you want. Newsflash, fuckoids. Some people aren't going to sit by and passively suck up your toxic waste. Boo fucking hoo. Look, this is teh intarnet. It's full of morons who'll entertain any damn fool theory if it makes them feel better about their tiny fetid lives.
These are REAL PEOPLE you are attacking. Not some amorphous many-headed hydra--real living people. Does that even occur to you?
Oh, and the phrase "anti-semite" distresses you? Good! Anti-semite! Anti-semite! Anti-semite! ANTI-SEMMMIIIITTTEEE! Look for it next to the image of your DROOLING FACE in your large print picture dictionary, you mephitic SKIDMARK.
Bugger off and, preferably, die.
Ahhh, I'm going to regret posting this. But that's what drunk is for.
(Note to readers who have no earthly clue what this is about: Barbelith. Morons. Bigots. Vent or asplode.)
The 15th has came and went without incident. Random paranoia, I spose.
Talking of random paranoia: Oh look. An unusual number of proxy browser hits in my referral log. %Oooo, I wonder why? Let me think about why this might be...%
God, you people are sad. What are you looking for? A post where I accidently let slip that I'm in the pay of the Elders of Z.? Jeeze, if you can't get a clue, will you bigots please get lives?
You know what bugs me? The fact that I let certain events and people Over There affect me so much. The fact that I let myself get so cowed that I wouldn't even stand up and say what needed to be said, in case the heroic guardians of Frea Speach decided to whack me with a sock (puppet) full of sand. Well, I've no responsibilililities over here, except to myself. So...
FUCK YOU, YOU PATHETIC BIGOTS! I SPIT DOWN YOUR THROATS! I wouldn't widdle on you if you were on fire. And no, this isn't passive aggression. This is good old fashioned aggressive aggression.
Does it ever occur to you wankers that the reason you can't find any smart people to have a nice, quiet, dispassionate discussion of fucking Holocaust denial and the International Jewish Conspiracy is because the most cursory glance over the evidence should lay any doubt to rest, unless, that is, you happen be a right-wing nutbar. Does it ever occur to you that people may have come across these ideas, looked into them, and decided they were bullshit?
Give me strength.
No, the PofZ is NOT a fucking historical document! HOW STUPID ARE YOU? What, there's this ultra-powerful bunch of people who've been running the world since the year dot, and for some reason they find it necesary to write a 101 explanation of how well it's all going, and THEN accidently leave a copy lying around for a passing Czarist police officer to pick up? With a Post-It note on the front, no doubt: "Note to self--ultrasecret plans for total world domination--do not accidently leave lying around!"
For the love of Mike, why--why can't you read a damn book? Check facts? You're online, a click or two away from any information source your little hearts desire! How about, instead of sitting back and demanding that the rest of the world run around trying to find the material that might let them SQUEEZE SOME SENSE INTO YOUR HEADS, you do a bit of reading for yourselves? I mean, would that kill you? Are your critical faculties so atrophied through disuse that attempting to engage them would cause organ faliure? No, it's more fun to sit around fiddling with your pocket calculator, "proving" all sorts of shite with arithmetic. Because of course, secret conspiritors like to leave neat little numerological clues as to what they're up to for people like you to read. Because they're so secret, you see.
And then you have the nerve--the brass neck--the immortal crust--to invoke free speech when you aren't allowed to spout your filthy lies whenever and wherever you want. Newsflash, fuckoids. Some people aren't going to sit by and passively suck up your toxic waste. Boo fucking hoo. Look, this is teh intarnet. It's full of morons who'll entertain any damn fool theory if it makes them feel better about their tiny fetid lives.
These are REAL PEOPLE you are attacking. Not some amorphous many-headed hydra--real living people. Does that even occur to you?
Oh, and the phrase "anti-semite" distresses you? Good! Anti-semite! Anti-semite! Anti-semite! ANTI-SEMMMIIIITTTEEE! Look for it next to the image of your DROOLING FACE in your large print picture dictionary, you mephitic SKIDMARK.
Bugger off and, preferably, die.
Ahhh, I'm going to regret posting this. But that's what drunk is for.
(Note to readers who have no earthly clue what this is about: Barbelith. Morons. Bigots. Vent or asplode.)
Friday, May 14, 2004
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Premium content.
Writing's been going a bit better lately, but I haven't had anything accepted for a while. Leafing through the stuff on my hard-drive, I see that I've accumulated quite a chunk of Ericverse stuff. Much of what I've produced is sketchy, flaky, but could with an effort be pressed into service as part of a narrative; spoof ad copy, Ericverse news items, ect.
Trouble is, Ericverse-type stuff seems to leave editors cold (which is why I tend to post it straight to my Lj). So I've been thinking--how hard is it to make an e-book? Something people could download for a small fee (say about a pound a throw, with an option for the more generous to chip in extra). I was thinking of maybe creating some illustrations with GIMP and knocking the whole thing up as a PDF. The stuff on my Lj would stay where it was, but paying punters would get piccys, spellchecking, etc. Don't know anything about putting stuff on the web so people have to pay to look at it. Can't be too hard, though.
This is all just pie in the sky at the moment, but it couldn't hurt to find out more.
Writing's been going a bit better lately, but I haven't had anything accepted for a while. Leafing through the stuff on my hard-drive, I see that I've accumulated quite a chunk of Ericverse stuff. Much of what I've produced is sketchy, flaky, but could with an effort be pressed into service as part of a narrative; spoof ad copy, Ericverse news items, ect.
Trouble is, Ericverse-type stuff seems to leave editors cold (which is why I tend to post it straight to my Lj). So I've been thinking--how hard is it to make an e-book? Something people could download for a small fee (say about a pound a throw, with an option for the more generous to chip in extra). I was thinking of maybe creating some illustrations with GIMP and knocking the whole thing up as a PDF. The stuff on my Lj would stay where it was, but paying punters would get piccys, spellchecking, etc. Don't know anything about putting stuff on the web so people have to pay to look at it. Can't be too hard, though.
This is all just pie in the sky at the moment, but it couldn't hurt to find out more.
Friday, May 07, 2004
Quick heads up.
There's a new wave of the old PayPal scam doing the rounds. For those of you who haven't heard of this, it's called phishing: basically the scammer creates a fake PayPal lookalike site and sends out emails asking people to confirm their details. When you go to the link in the email, you are taken to not to the real PayPal site, but to the fake. If you enter your details they are then recored and stolen by the phisher, who can then rob you blind at his leisure.
The email I got came from "John Crossman" services@ssl2-paypal.com. Note the domain name; real PayPal emails will originate from Paypal.com, not somethingfake-paypal.com.
If you're suspicious, check the real paypal site. If think you've already given your details to a fake site, log on and change your password to be on the safe side. Don't forget to let PayPal know about the dodgy email.
There's a new wave of the old PayPal scam doing the rounds. For those of you who haven't heard of this, it's called phishing: basically the scammer creates a fake PayPal lookalike site and sends out emails asking people to confirm their details. When you go to the link in the email, you are taken to not to the real PayPal site, but to the fake. If you enter your details they are then recored and stolen by the phisher, who can then rob you blind at his leisure.
The email I got came from "John Crossman" services@ssl2-paypal.com. Note the domain name; real PayPal emails will originate from Paypal.com, not somethingfake-paypal.com.
If you're suspicious, check the real paypal site. If think you've already given your details to a fake site, log on and change your password to be on the safe side. Don't forget to let PayPal know about the dodgy email.
Binkety.
Sweet cuppin' cakes, did I really just lower myself to getting in a squabble over whether the Protocols of the L. E. of Z. are fake or not? I have got to elevate my sights. Arguing over the Protocons is such a big fat waste of time. They're one of those things where you either look at it and think: "Holy cats, what a pile of dingleberries!" or you scratch the rash around your tinfoil beanie, sip your distilled water and pure grain alcohol, and nod thoughtfully. No middle ground. No point arguing, because Tinfoil Beanie will immediately file you under "Muggle" or, worse yet, decide that you're in league with the Elders and try to beat you to death with his sock puppets.
I would never have got involved but there was this one guy in the discussion who hadn't heard of the Protocons and seemed in danger of taking it all seriously; I sudenly wanted to cone the mess off in case any n00bs got wank on their tiny red wellies. I got all protective. It happens.
These anti-semite conspiracy theorists may be royally irritating, but if I take time out to tear every single one of them a new arsehole I'll be here all life. And probably several future lives.
Man, that would suck. I'm really looking forward to my cockroach incarnation. Ever since I can remember, people have been threatening me with the cockroach incarnation. What's so bad about being a cockroach? You can eat anything, you have so much ferrous material in your shell and so little fluid in your body that you can take a stroll round a microwave oven while it's on, you can survive nuclear wars... damn, the more I think about it, the more being cockroach sounds like the Karmic equivalent of a fortnight in Tenerife. Don't want to waste it bouncing around on the keyboard like Archy.
Anyway. My obsessive word of the moment is "binkety" and it is driving me nuts. I mean. "Binkety." I preferred the "fish people" episode, or even "sockiput in the ockiput" month. But it's been "binkety" for the last week.
I need to be de-binketied.
Update: Turns out this fool has form--he's all over the GNN boards with this drivel, and worse. Ho, hum. Sometimes it'd be nice to be wrong about people.
Sweet cuppin' cakes, did I really just lower myself to getting in a squabble over whether the Protocols of the L. E. of Z. are fake or not? I have got to elevate my sights. Arguing over the Protocons is such a big fat waste of time. They're one of those things where you either look at it and think: "Holy cats, what a pile of dingleberries!" or you scratch the rash around your tinfoil beanie, sip your distilled water and pure grain alcohol, and nod thoughtfully. No middle ground. No point arguing, because Tinfoil Beanie will immediately file you under "Muggle" or, worse yet, decide that you're in league with the Elders and try to beat you to death with his sock puppets.
I would never have got involved but there was this one guy in the discussion who hadn't heard of the Protocons and seemed in danger of taking it all seriously; I sudenly wanted to cone the mess off in case any n00bs got wank on their tiny red wellies. I got all protective. It happens.
These anti-semite conspiracy theorists may be royally irritating, but if I take time out to tear every single one of them a new arsehole I'll be here all life. And probably several future lives.
Man, that would suck. I'm really looking forward to my cockroach incarnation. Ever since I can remember, people have been threatening me with the cockroach incarnation. What's so bad about being a cockroach? You can eat anything, you have so much ferrous material in your shell and so little fluid in your body that you can take a stroll round a microwave oven while it's on, you can survive nuclear wars... damn, the more I think about it, the more being cockroach sounds like the Karmic equivalent of a fortnight in Tenerife. Don't want to waste it bouncing around on the keyboard like Archy.
Anyway. My obsessive word of the moment is "binkety" and it is driving me nuts. I mean. "Binkety." I preferred the "fish people" episode, or even "sockiput in the ockiput" month. But it's been "binkety" for the last week.
I need to be de-binketied.
Update: Turns out this fool has form--he's all over the GNN boards with this drivel, and worse. Ho, hum. Sometimes it'd be nice to be wrong about people.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
How are things in Gilead?
Hope you laydeez enjoy your new role as Handmaidens when Bush gets re-elected.
Hope you laydeez enjoy your new role as Handmaidens when Bush gets re-elected.
Paper.
Okay, so today I got my certificate--finally. I was elated for a couple of hours; kept on taking it out of the envelope and admiring it in all its naff yellowish glory. Then reality started to set in and I realised that the thin sliver of dead tree I had clutched in my hand was pretty much the only concrete thing I have to show for four years of my life.
Ah, the great taste of self-loathing.
Anyway, I shall doubtless reach some form of equilibrium eventually. I've already updated my CVs to include the information that I am the proud posessor of a Certificate of Higher Education.
Just one question: What the hell is a Certificate of Higher Education? Is it good? Does it actually mean anything? Can I have a job now?
In other news: Wouldn't you just love to send someone an "EVOLVE or DIE" greetings card?
Okay, so today I got my certificate--finally. I was elated for a couple of hours; kept on taking it out of the envelope and admiring it in all its naff yellowish glory. Then reality started to set in and I realised that the thin sliver of dead tree I had clutched in my hand was pretty much the only concrete thing I have to show for four years of my life.
Ah, the great taste of self-loathing.
Anyway, I shall doubtless reach some form of equilibrium eventually. I've already updated my CVs to include the information that I am the proud posessor of a Certificate of Higher Education.
Just one question: What the hell is a Certificate of Higher Education? Is it good? Does it actually mean anything? Can I have a job now?
In other news: Wouldn't you just love to send someone an "EVOLVE or DIE" greetings card?
Monday, May 03, 2004
Sold out.
Wow. Logged onto Zazzle just now and someone's actually bought one of the products in my Emporium of Negativity. I have $1.66 in my account. A whole shiny dollar and some pennies! What can I buy for $1.66, Mummy?
But there's a sting in the tail. For though I know that someone has bought something it is unclear what they purchaced. A handsome t-shirt? A poster? A greetings card? Was it one of my witty slogans, or a picture of a purple pepper? Oh, the uncertainty! I want to know what got bought so I can make more of it!
(Update: I located the product. I'm utterly perplexed. I mean, it's a t-shirt with two words on it. I don't expect people to buy this stuff, it's just fun to make.)
Wow. Logged onto Zazzle just now and someone's actually bought one of the products in my Emporium of Negativity. I have $1.66 in my account. A whole shiny dollar and some pennies! What can I buy for $1.66, Mummy?
But there's a sting in the tail. For though I know that someone has bought something it is unclear what they purchaced. A handsome t-shirt? A poster? A greetings card? Was it one of my witty slogans, or a picture of a purple pepper? Oh, the uncertainty! I want to know what got bought so I can make more of it!
(Update: I located the product. I'm utterly perplexed. I mean, it's a t-shirt with two words on it. I don't expect people to buy this stuff, it's just fun to make.)
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