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Thanks for everyone’s votes, it turns out that the results are overwhelmingly in favour of my starting writing now, with no votes to the contrary and only one for fish.
So I’m going for it! My first, very scary foray into cyberpunk.
It’s background material for Forgotten Children, I suppose, but hopefully it holds together on its own.
Last week’s effort, the prologue, and today’s, Chapter 1, are linked below. It’s still work-in-progress, so mostly unedited. As always, suggestions / criticisms / outright flames welcome. Even noting spelling mistakes as you go along would be handy, I haven’t gotten around to that yet.
Bug #23691 (P,Ch1) Unedited 70kB PDF
(Creative Commons Attrib-NonComm-ShareAlike 2.5 blah blah blah etc)
Oh, commonly-held belief that bank holidays are a good time for DIY, how I hate thee!
Sure, bank holidays are a great time for DIY. Inside. Or at low volume. Or late in the day. Or just in any way not angle-grinding housebricks directly opposite my open window at 9am. Grr =S
Righty everyone, audience participation time.
A few of you have read my currently ongoing short story, currently called “Bug 23691”. It currently stands at a mere 1500 words and it’s ‘finished’ as a story in its own right.
However, it would be significantly more awesome as a prologue to a much bigger story. Possibly 50,000 words’ worth. Which poses a question.
- start writing this now, make it shorter, and finish it while I have enthusiasm for it - but have trouble coming up with ideas for Nano, or...
- save it for Nano in November, hope I still have enthusiasm for it then, and find something else to write in the meantime?
I really need to stop falling asleep on trains. Today I was woken up by the ‘doors closing’ beeps at the station I needed to get off at.
It’s surprising how quickly one can get out of one’s seat, halfway down a carriage and out the door when one needs to. Unusually for me, I even managed to remember my umbrella, and thus not make it two losses within a week! (Go me.)
This week has gone approximately thus:
Went to see Eric. Was awesome. Spent too much money.
People at work are trying to convince me to play WoW. There is no escape =S
I managed not to notice Comiket 70 happening. There’s a new version of Alibat! C70 Game Torrents.
I ordered shiny rainbow-coloured poi from a nice site with prices in British Pounds and everything. Turns out the things are actualy coming from New Zealand! =p Ordered some UV-fluorescent body paint too.
Last night was full of doom. Hopefully, Eric doesn’t hate me too much =S
It was the birthday party of someone - I think it was a female someone, but I don’t remember who. The party was being held in a big open-plan office at one end of an office building not too dissimilar to the one I work in. The dream mostly involved us running around the building trying to recruit people for the party, carrying banners and posters emblazoned with Evangelion hentai (Shinji x Asuka) which somehow advertised the party.
Very weird, but not as weird as…
The second dream was much more full of doom. I seemed to be going somewhere, and took a shortcut through Racheet’s house. In this dream, Racheet for some reason lived at Andy and Anna’s old house, but with Gemma’s final-year housemates and a guy I used to know from school (also at the same Uni that the other stars of this dream are/were) by the name of Alex Duffy.
So, I took a shortcut through the house (Alex and Tallulah looked quite confused) and emerged from the back door to see Racheet, Anna and XXXXXXXXXX sitting around - Anna was sitting on the back of a car, the other two were sitting on the ground.
After a few minutes, XXXXXXXXXX got up and told me that (s)he had something to tell me. (S)he said that (s)he loved me - and kissed me. My heart sank like a lead balloon at the thought of disappointing him/her (since (s)he wasn’t Eric) - then I woke up.
That was five minutes before my alarm. It’s now an hour and a half after it, and I still feel weird.
Well, today has been fun. Right up until the evening, anyway. Here goes the list of what’s happened:
7.30pm - I leave Eric’s, borrowing an umbrella that I think I’m not likely to need.
7.35pm - The rain is falling like a vertical river, and the several-a-minute lightning strikes are making me nervous of the metal umbrella.
7.50pm - I finally make it to the station, and grab my ticket out of my wallet… my wallet that I don’t have.
8.10pm - Back at Eric’s house and now very wet indeed, I retreive my wallet.
8.35pm - And back at the station again, thoroughly fed up.
8.50pm - I get to Woking, and run to the train across the platform that’s going my way and already late.
9.00pm - The guard, who doesn’t speak English all that well, informs us that due to flooding, our train will be diverted via Portsmouth.
9.10pm - The train passes Guildford station again, going back the other way.
11.40pm - After many stops and unintelligible tannoy announcements, we finally make it to Bournemouth.
11.45pm - I discover that, as expected, there are no more buses. Having spent a ridiculous amount during the weekend, I decide not to take a rip-off taxi.
12.35am - And, at last, I am home. Ready to fall asleep - and be up for work in just over five hours.
During this time, I had nothing to drink, no chance to go to the toilet, no music to listen to, and only a book and a pack of Filipinos to keep me entertained. And to top it all, I even managed to lose the neklace that Eric gave me.
It has not been a good evening.
Of course, I’m always doing bad things, but this one is particularly bad, in the “bad and wrong” sense.
This, I thinnk, is conclusive proof that coding in C++ makes me insane and I should never have to do it again.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present: Alice’s Adventures in C++land.
A little late to post I know, but I graduated on Monday. It was an awesome day, and could only really have been improved by the theatre in which we had to sit, fully robed, for 90 minutes, having been air conditioned.
We baked in there ;;_;;
Still, it’s one of those moments in which you come to realise something about what University is all about…
“Yes I call across the waves;
If I don’t come home tonight,
I’ll make it home some day…”
~ Paul Gross - “Robert McKenzie” (Due South OST)</i>
Though still hot, still sunny, still but the beginning of the Summer as I once would have thought it, the evenings get darker earlier now than they did scarce a month ago.
It’s a Sunday evening, and now I head home, away into the night on creaking trains and familiar tracks. I’m reminded of a feeling which I associate mostly with the stereotypically Japanese near-addiction to work, that feeling of coming home night after night on the same old frequent-stopping train; to an apartment, a single man’s apartment, to eat and sleep before repeating the whole thing again.
Soon enough, as mornings and evenings alike darken, I’ll once again be able to feel these emotions as I return home from work on the train myself.
I, of course, have many more concerns than work and travel therefrom. As I travel home now, I clutch in my arms a bunch of sunflowers; with an invisible label that declares me to be young, in love, and with far more in common with the flower folk than is normal.
It’s almost a shame that the lilacs are no longer in bloom…
What all this adds up to is that I can’t give in to the darkness of the Winter commute. Sometimes I guess I’d like to do so, to experience whatever joy lies beyond the loneliness and futility of the slow evening train.
Deep down, though, I think I know what that joy is. It’s not really joy at all, it’s the kind of unchanging emotionlessness that feels like happiness if you’re so deeply immersed in it all that you’ve lost track of what life outside is like.
But that would mean being lonely - rejecting friends and family, kith and kin, my heart, my song and my love.
Never going to happen.
There’s a different kind of winter travel that I like much better. Gloves discarded next to you on the platform bench; a cup of coffee by your side steaming into the icy air; a pen in one hand and paper in the other, writing while on the platform until the train arrives, then carrying on writing some more as the train carries you forward, away into the morning light, away from the night.