tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60205580598906730942024-02-18T20:16:13.713-08:00B³ - Some blog by Blair BeauchesneAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-64207584855839415192012-04-13T10:54:00.003-07:002012-04-13T10:54:44.169-07:00250-words: #26 Lump<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. I saw an old man on the bus today, and he had an interesting shaped head. I couldn't help myself but imagine how he got that strange ridge on his head above his ear. So I took a stab at it with a Finnish-Canadian note to the story.</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My lump on my head? Grandma used to
joke that I read too much and my brain is too big for my head. But it
really not much of a story- Ya okay, okay. Back when I was young,
before we move to Canada, me and my brother used to challenge a lot.
We used to see who could swim longest, or climb the higher trees, or
eat dinner faster. Ya know, the kinda things you two do now.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And one day we in the sauna, we
challenged who could stay up in the hot steam longest. Me and Jonaa
were young so we liked the heat. We sat in there for an hour,
throwing water, water, water on the rocks. Jonaa once nearly put the
fire out when he threw five big cup of water on them. Ya so, we start
to be bored. You've never done it, but my grandpa used to whack us
with birch branches in the sauna. It was good for the skin. So Jonaa
grab a stick and whack me. So I grab a bigger stick and whack him
back. But Jonaa have to win, so he run out to the lake and grab a
really big stick. When he run back in, he hit me on the head. Whump!
And Jonaa win.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But ya, Jonaa never see, because I
never know of my lump until my hair disappeared. So, you two never
whump each other with stick, or you look like grandpa's lump.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-37994563548352279172012-03-30T13:59:00.000-07:002012-03-30T13:59:18.905-07:00250-words: #25 Canonization<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. I don't want to claim this is biographical, but this afternoon a song did come on iTunes that has a friend of mine's name in it, and I can never tell them I picture them every time I hear it. So I put off my personal challenge to write a compelling story about a ham & swiss sandwich, and wrote this instead. I couldn't keep all you loyal readers in suspense any longer when your next hit of 250 word long storytelling would happen.</span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></i><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I heard a former friend's name on the
radio today. It wasn't a particularly flattering song, the colloquial
term for a female canine was emphasized in the chorus several times.
So I revelled in it for a while, bobbed my head while picturing her
on the back of a harley. I guess, out of context, that's not harshest
part of the song.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Anyways, after a series of terrible
relationships, I introduced her to the only decent guy she's ever
fucked. It was too hot to be fall, but I distinctly remember leaves
on the ground already and the amber sunset. Alone I conspired to meet
them both in the quad under the only birch tree there. It was
perfect. No one showed up late, and at the time I couldn't believe
how smoothly match-making could occur.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But in their early versions of how they
met I'll be unnamed or absent. After numerous retellings some
contrivance will have to fill in my role. Swelling will multiply as
the lie gets infected with explanations. But with some clever
application of bandages and time, there won't even be a lump of me
left there.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
No one at their wedding will know that
I don't have a seat saved, nor a drink poured for me. I won't get a
turn at the mic to give a speech or tell a favourite story about the
couple. But I'll still be there, just like her voice was in the
static behind that song on the radio.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-3811827726518267952012-03-16T11:07:00.001-07:002012-03-16T11:07:52.269-07:00250-words: #24 Revolving<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. This is what happens when I watch "The Nature of Things" and TED talks too much.</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I had a dream last night. I was a
statue perched on the lip of a petridish, overlooking all of
human-kind mingling below. In the dark plastic valley the only way to
generate heat was walking in circles. Clusters of bodied developed,
taking turns resting and walking. Eventually from their epicentres
icons rose; pillars, and altars, and crosses, and stars. The clusters
tightened their orbits. Their gaze uplifted. Their mouths hung open.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Without watching the clans would slowly
drift. Inevitably some paths intersected. If flowing in the same
direction they would pass uninterrupted, or merge into some new
arrangement. But when opposing flows met, bodies fell to the ground
and motion ceased.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Groups evolved into great runners
packed with efficient features; swollen buttocks, short toes, raised
arches, and sprung tendons. Tight groups gained velocity. New dances
formed within orbits. The young had to learn to run or get out of the
way. Despite the constant flow of stragglers breaking away, the
groups multiplied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Some colonies grew larger feet to
better stomp the ground with, or broader shoulders to shove, or would
be hunched for aerodynamic efficiency. But none of them saw the
glossy finish of the dish had worn away, or the hardened plastic was
thinning. And soon some colonies so deeply entrenched themselves that
they broke through the bedrock and fell into the abyss.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Quickly half the dish was still, but
the stragglers had settled on the far edge and developed their own
single slow orbit around a monolith.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-48030010954919064882012-03-11T13:28:00.001-07:002012-03-16T11:05:12.807-07:00250-words: #23 Switching<div>
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. This one nearly made me late for work, so you better enjoy it.</span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></i><br />
There was once a man on a mountain who possessed an ancient switch. The switch was made out of obsidian, the lever out of tarnished iron, and carved in the base were runes which barely held the paint that once adorned the grooves. By now the switch had heard every iteration of “What if”; “What if I had married so-and-so...?”, “What if I had done X instead of Y...?” The switch would indulge every request, so the Switch-Thrower had lodged himself high in the mountains to avoid every child from wishing away their parents.<br />
<br />
One day a young man had fought through the wind, and scrambled up raw cliff faces to arrive at the Switch-Thrower's cave. The young man ducked in through the small crevice.<br />
<br />
“Who are you?”
<br />
<br />
“My name is Cedric, sir.” the young man's eyes adjusted and before him was the Switch-Thrower sitting on the dirty cave floor. His hair was matted, and he wore a vest on top of a long brown robe. The only youthful element of his appearance were his brilliant green eyes..<br />
<br />
“What'll it be, Cedric?”<br />
<br />
“Switch-Thrower, my life has been changed so many times without me knowing. What if I were to remember all the changes?”<br />
<br />
The Switch-Thrower yanked on the lever and the world was stirred. When everything realigned the young man felt tired and cold.<br />
<br />
“Oh, Finally!” said the young man with green eyes. “And remember, Cedric; Everyone only gets one wish.”
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-16305357928029011132012-03-09T20:45:00.000-08:002012-03-09T20:45:00.835-08:00250-Words: #22 Maintenance<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. This one comes from a single line I felt like using. Went in a totally unexpected direction, but I like it.</span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></i><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Tonight
feels like a whisky night.</span></span> It's the only
thing that helps me sleep anymore<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">–</span>
Well, that and the grandfather clock. It's the only thing I took with
me. I can't sleep without hearing the ticking from the hallway. I
guess I've gotten used to it. It used to be my father's. I remember
he'd polish it every Sunday afternoon. The chime would go off in a
pair and there he'd be with a fresh rag in one hand, and a can of
lemon Pledge in the other.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It's begun to
lose time though. I think the metal hands are binding on one another,
so when I'm not looking two or three minutes will clump into one. I
raise the ballast every time they are low, but other than that I have
no idea how to maintain the thing. I've tried three different kinds
of oil on it, and nothing's worked. At least it's not gotten much
worse. It might lose a minute a month or so.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
All fine
clock-smiths have retired or died. It's just out of its era. There's
a snotty kid down at the mall who hangs out at this booth. He doesn't
know a thing. They send all the watches out for repairs now. The only
thing he's good for is switching batteries.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I wish that face
would just tell me what to do, who to call, or something. All it does
is put me to sleep at night with the sound of its consistent swing.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-78650275302363342812012-03-09T09:37:00.003-08:002012-03-09T09:37:31.627-08:00Facepalm, gaming community.What the fuck, gaming community? Why in the last two weeks have we had a smorgasbord of proof why we can still be called <a href="http://www.destructoid.com/sexual-harassment-and-fightin-drama-together-at-last--222877.phtml" target="_blank">juvenile</a>, <a href="http://www.destructoid.com/bioware-writer-s-vagina-versus-the-internet-222206.phtml" target="_blank">immature</a> <a href="http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/jimquisition/5433-Mass-Effect-3-And-The-Case-For-A-Gay-Shepard" target="_blank">children</a>? Jack Thompson could make a whole week's meal out of the shit that's been going on. Luckily there's been a lot of people I follow and read speaking out against each individual issue, so there's really no reason to get too deeply into each of them. Hell, a few posts ago I discussed the <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-want-fast-forward-button-for-internet.html" target="_blank">unnecessary sexist backlash</a> against one writer at Bioware. But I'd like to analyze the roots of this trend, perhaps too big of a challenge for a single blog post.<br />
<br />
According to the Entertainment Software Association's 2011 <a href="http://www.theesa.com/facts/pdfs/ESA_EF_2011.pdf" target="_blank">study</a>* 53% of gamers are 18 - 49 years old. Even the 50+ age category dwarfs the under 18 category by 11% (29% to 18% respectively). So the vast majority of gamers are deemed mature enough to vote and guide public policy. What perplexes me is most of the behaviours that are reported in regards to the gaming community seem to be developed by thirteen year olds boys. Is it just they are the only ones with free time to play a game, and then bitch about how the option of being homosexual is encoded into the game? Or maybe bad behaviour is noticed and spreads easier or faster than proper behaviour.<br />
<br />
I don't know.<br />
<br />
But what I do know is, I am tired of reading headlines about how a small vocal portion of a hobby's following is making asses out of themselves by making another stupid bigotted comment against another often-harassed minority group. How many <a href="http://childsplaycharity.org/" target="_blank">Child's Plays</a> do we need to make up for the 233 utterances of "fag" on Xbox Live every second?<br />
<br />
Again, I don't know. Really wish I did. Maybe someone will invent socks that taste like soap, so the gaming community can accomplish two tasks at once.<br />
<br />
But this isn't an issue that affects the gaming community alone. Every week the news-circuit is full of how some politician said some dumb-bigotted thing, then the next week it gets reported that they're re-elected. I was listening to an interview the other day, where the person being interviewed said the top three issues of this generation's Evangelical Christians could easily be mistaken for the same issues that the Occupy movement is decrying. He went on to say how politics in North America is shifting, and not a lot is getting done presently because in this transitory moment the old guard are defending their issues to the deaths, and they're not dying fast enough. Hopefully in another ten or fifteen years I won't be reading these types of headlines with such frequency. But until then I guess I'll just have to decry them digitally to hopefully bring some balance to the force.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
* - The study was reported on 1200 US households. Apparently it is the most in-depth analysis of the gaming community out there, but it can hardly be taken as a metric for global statistics.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-57462283729288338102012-02-26T07:50:00.003-08:002012-02-26T07:50:56.766-08:00New Project: "The World I Want To Live In"<i>"The World I Want To Live In"</i> is a collection of speculative fiction stories that looks ahead and contemplates possible futures. Though the title is seemingly optimistic, not all the stories will be. Some will look ahead at opportunities gone wrong, because often the best examples for good behaviour rest underneath poor or misguided action.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Though <i>TWIWTLI </i>is a collection of short pieces, there is no explicit canon being developed that integrates all the possibilities described into a singluar Utopia. Each piece is designed to operate independently of each other. Many of the stories will inevitably conflict, and possibly many may inevitably overlap in theme and possibly setting. Ultimately the stories are not designed to operate as a moralistic how-to guide for human endeavours. They are created in the hopes that they can be playful nuggets that upon consumption germinate a sprout's worth of thought.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-39081769369473419042012-02-26T07:37:00.001-08:002012-02-26T07:51:46.385-08:00250-word: #21 Phantoming<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. This story is not only a thinly veiled allegory of the operation I currently am employed at, it also acts as a tie in to a new project I am launching in the very near future. If you would like to read some details of the new project, <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2012/02/new-project-world-i-want-to-live-in.html" target="_blank">click here</a>.</span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></i><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I guess someone
set the dial incorrectly, because when the transtempmatterporter
completed its cycle our replacement phantom came out wheezing. We
were concerned she had been transmografied, or mutated, or parts of
her were left on the departing pad she had come from. There was a
reason we called the one day replacements “Phantoms”. The
wheezing phantom began coughing up black soot. The manager looked at
the mess on the floor and told her to get a mop. The phantom just
stared blankly at him and covered her mouth as she coughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So we cleaned
the floor, and gave her a new emerald-coloured apron, she couldn't
serve the way she was. Cashier is the easiest position at Novacoin,
so we stowed her there for a while but she was incapable of operating
the synscreen. The other baristas guessed that she probably had brain
damage. After 15 minutes she seemed to relax and turned to me and
asked “WHYY DEW YEW ALLL TAAALK SEW FAAST?!!” We weren't talking
fast, she was talking slow. She didn't understand the explanation I
gave her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
We pulled her
off cash and put her on bar, but she couldn't operate the infrared
roasters, or the sonic grinders, or the steam wands. All she could do
well was pour faunamilk into cups. Production was creeping, so I
pulled her aside. I asked her what store was she from.”TEW THAUSAND
AAND SEVVEN”. I guess she figured what was going on faster than the
rest of us.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-61050486269123731862012-02-23T10:27:00.001-08:002012-02-23T10:27:47.436-08:00I want a fast-forward button for internet cultureSo I wasn't at the nexus when the incendiary storm surrounding Bioware and Jennifer Hepler began. From the blow by blow recap I've read on <a href="http://www.destructoid.com/bioware-writer-s-vagina-versus-the-internet-222206.phtml" target="_blank">destructoid</a> though this whole thing seems pretty stupid and makes me wish there was a fast-forward button to speed up the maturation of internet dwellers.<br />
<br />
What the hell am I talking about? In short, Jennifer Hepler is a writer for Bioware, one of the largest video game developers in Canada who are well known for their focus on the stories in their roleplaying games. Through a re-release of a podcast, it's become news that Hepler made comments to the gist of saying that she enjoys the ability of videogames to tell an interactive story, but doesn't enjoy the actual gameplay. In that interview she recommended that developers include<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"A fast-forward button. Games almost always include a way to "button through" dialogue without paying attention, because they understand that some players don't enjoy listening to dialogue and they don't want to stop their fun. Yet they persist in practically coming into your living room and forcing you to play through the combats even if you're a player who only enjoys the dialogue."</blockquote>
While I feel like that would sort of defeat the purpose of games, I don't feel the need to beat her over the head about it. Apparently the voiceful throngs of the internet don't agree with me though. What went through their head? <i>She doesn't enjoy one of the things I enjoy, oh no! I better get my torch and pitchfork and make vitriolic comments about her on twitter and reddit! </i>Hepler didn't help extinguish the hate when she fired back with "I just figure they're jealous that I get to have both a vagina AND a games industry job, and they can't get either." It just seems like that's an invitation for more schoolyard-esque prattle, but I'm happy she had the <strike>stones</strike> labia to defend herself.<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
Though as a writer and gamer I am of two sides about Hepler's opinion. The writer side would <i>love</i> it if the games industry used Hepler's gameplay skip idea. I think I hear a thousand fanboys screaming, <i>Why!!? </i>Well essentially it would show the same respect for the craft of writing as it would for the actual gameplay portions. It's well known that a lot of stories in videogames come out cheesy at best, cliche-ridden and hacky at worst, because they are often an after thought shoe-horned in late in the development cycle. So if gamers had the ability to forgo gameplay for just the storytelling and cinematic portions, those bits had better stand up on their own, which would make me happy because more good stories in games makes me happy too.<br />
<br />
But the gamer side feels it would make the gameplay portion feel generic because everything relating to story is put into the storytelling segments. In an industry that is already bloated with generic feeling games, I don't desire more of that. Also if games used this mechanic they would feel like less of a cohesive product, then two competing products juxtaposed and put on one disc.<br />
<br />
The writer side does make one concession by pointing out that the story could feel very choppy, and lack tension since most of the answers to "how did...?" are typically in the gameplay portions. At best you could do a exposition dump, but that would get exhausting going through every few minutes and be less engaging than experiencing how the hero escaped. <i>Remember</i>: <i>show don't tell.</i><br />
<br />
So there we have it. I conclude that I disagree with Hepler's opinion, but at no point did I need to make a rude comment about the quality of her work, or her vagina. Take note, Internet, you're doing it wrong.<br />
<br />
Additionally, I feel like we need more people like Hepler in the industry. Not just passionate writers, but less broiling fanboys in general. They believe that unadulterated passion makes a good product? But it doesn't, to them I'd ask, <i>have you read some of the fanfiction out there?! </i>To succeed in creating a good product (be it a story, a game, a widget, etc.), you need to be able to have some critical distance from it. To be able to review your work, and see it for what it is, not what you want it to be. From what I'm reading, Hepler is plenty critical of the medium she's working in.<br />
<br />
And Jennifer (if I may call you that, I don't wish to make it sound too familiar), I could tell you to never mind all the hate that's going around, but that would be stupid. But from what I've experienced first-hand, you're a strong writer and you care deeply about your craft. So you get a high-five from me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-75075845485795128952012-02-11T14:35:00.000-08:002012-02-11T14:36:33.347-08:00Some Jabber and 250 words: #20 Space FillerI wonder if anyone missed me. Probably not. I apologize about the long void of content here. For the past three weeks I've been devoting all my creative endeavours to a short story contest I entered. The deadline is next week, but I finished early and fired it off. It'd be cool to win, but even if I don't I am sure I can get the story published. I am really excited about what it turned into, it started as something very different, but it ended up being a speculative fiction story about the struggle for identity of a creator of a Facebook profile that becomes sentient.<br />
<br />
I am also pretty excited that I get to emcee another reading. InkTank will be doing another reading at Duffy's Tavern, in Toronto, on Feb the 28th. Anyone reading this better be there. I also am still looking for readers for the event, so let me know if you're interested and we'll try and get you a slot.<br />
<br />
Anyways, after the break is your overdue 250 word story! Yaaaaaay!<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="-webkit-transition-delay: initial; -webkit-transition-duration: 0.3s; -webkit-transition-property: color; -webkit-transition-timing-function: initial; color: #009eb8; display: inline; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; text-decoration: none;">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. This one is based on a random phrase that popped into my head on the way home from work.</span></i><br />
<a name='more'></a>Euneva Floyd stood alone in front of
twenty pairs of little eyes staring at him. His mouth was dry, his
hands were moist. “So I guess it all started for me when I was a
little older than you are now. How many of you have been in a fight
in the school yard?” Very few hands were raised.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good. That's... good. Anyways, I got
into a fist fight once. It was with a guy who was a foot taller than
me! His name was... Milton Grainge. He would've normally pummelled
the snot out of me. Do any of you know what fist fillers are?” No
one put up their hands.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Uhh... they're these little weights
that you put in, and... erm... anyways I used some and when I punched
him square in the ear, he fell down and his ear was bleeding. He
though his brains were coming out! But it was just a small cut in his
ear. So all the kids saw, and everyone cheered that I had knocked the
stuffing out of him. For weeks after that, I dreamed of Milton and
every time he talked cotton stuffing just kept coming out of his
mouth. That's why I became a taxidermist.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The teacher stood up and with a well
placed hand on his shoulder cut off the second half of Euneva Floyd's
story. “Thank you, Mr. Floyd for coming in on such short notice to
share your... unique story for career day.”</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-9772348665874128482012-01-26T12:06:00.000-08:002012-01-26T12:06:58.989-08:00New LayoutIf you're reading this you've likely noticed a huge change. This blog has done away with the ugly old layout, and gotten in with a new sexy layout. I'm going to miss my head and blurb at the right, and my twitter feed widget. Maybe those will come back eventually. But the left "posts" sidebar is too slick to deny it existence.<br />
<br />
But if you miss something similar to the good ol' days. You can get a more standard layout by clicking on the pull down menu under the header at the top left, and selecting another layout.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-48382252609785741882012-01-23T15:54:00.000-08:002012-01-26T11:42:00.107-08:00Definitions and Some Random Advice<div>
I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't this space as my personal soapbox for ranting. It's a slippery slope and really who the hell would care about my personal opinion? But then I remembered, that's all this is just wrapped up in (hopefully) interesting wrapping. So here's a random definition stolen from dictionary.com;<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
am·a·teur<br />
noun [am-uh-choor, -cher, -ter, am-uh-tur]<br />
<ol>
<li>a person who engages in a study, sport, or other activity for pleasure rather than for financial benefit or professional reasons. Compare <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/professional">professional</a> (following an occupation as a means of livelihood or for gain).</li>
<li>an athlete who has never competed for payment or for amonetary prize.</li>
</ol>
</blockquote>
</div>
<div>
<br />
By this definition everyone is an amateur at a lot of things. Got a partner and like sex? Even if you're really good between the covers, unless they pay you at the end... Well I'm afraid you're an amateur in the bedroom. Let's just stop using this as a pejorative shall we?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I know it all depends on your world view, and Kevin O'Leary would probably disagree, but money isn't the loci of all existence. I refuse to measure my and others worth based on a flawed system of compensation that has infected nearly all parts of society. I don't know either of them personally, but fuck Hunter S Thompson <sup>1</sup> and Kevin O'Leary, because just like me they're both amateurs at plenty of things too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And let me leave you with something to remember; 1) <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wil_Wheaton#Wheaton.27s_Law" target="_blank">Wheaton's law</a> applies to everything, and 2) The internet might be a vast never-ending space, but the communities within it do have certain limits and overlap. Which leads me to... 3) Break (1) enough times, and (2) might become an issue for you. Just saying.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
Footnotes:<br />
<b>1 </b>- I have it on <i>good authority</i> that Hunter S Thompson said "If it don’t pay, it ain’t art" but I can't find one credible source of him saying that or even anything similar. So if he is being misquoted I rescind my sentiment that he can "get fucked". Additionally, my research shows that it's actually a lyric from a rapper called QWEL, so maybe QWEL can "get fucked" instead unless I am missing vital context there. Regardless of other circumstances we still wish Kevin O'Leary to "get fucked" until a time where he changes his selfish ideologies.<br />
<br />
I'll still watch him on<i> Dragon's Den</i> regardless though.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-15650130295482554472012-01-21T15:10:00.000-08:002012-01-21T15:10:58.981-08:00Movie Review: ContagionSo I'm late to this game, but it's a little liberating knowing the opinions expressed here won't have any affect on box office sales (heck even if it was opening weekend, I don't think I have a sizable enough audience to even have the same effect a tear drop has falling on a bullet train). Last night I watched <i>Contagion</i>, and if this whole column is <i>tl;dr</i> for you here's a review in one sentence: Good, but it could've been great.<br />
<br />
So why?<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<i>Contagion </i>is a film that plays off of the modern fears of pandemics. Similar films have played with the bio-hazard theme before, but few treat the material with such realistic attention to detail. There's no zombies in this one. I'm sorry if that disappoints some of you, but I feel as if it's better off without the flesh-eating meandering hi-jinx of the undead. There's nothing in the movie that really requires you to suspend your disbelief, so it's good for those out there that wouldn't normally like this genre of film. Rack it up squarely in the drama / thriller category, and put it as far away as you can from <i>Resident Evil</i> or <i>28 Days/Weeks Later</i>.<br />
<br />
So what hold it back? The acting is good, it's well cast, the story is well-written. The sole issue I had while watching it is the film makers shoe-horned almost too much in. Every possible perspective on this story is represented. You have the scientists on the front line fighting it, you have administration and politicians running the organizations, you have the lay every-person sick from it, you have the lay every-person who is healthy, and you even have a tech-wise conman taking advantage of people's fears. It is well handled, so nothing is overwhelming for the audience and the pacing is decent so it's easy to follow. But the major characters don't get enough screen time, so at the end of the film I struggled to empathize with all of them.<br />
<br />
Three-quarters of the way through I realized I didn't even remember most of the characters names since the characters I was engaged with either died halfway through, or disappeared until the final act. I was identifying them solely by actor or character traits. In retrospect it seems like it's three full length movies pressed into 106 minutes, and it's done well enough that I'd probably watch all three movies.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be such a downer on <i>Contagion</i>, because I did enjoy watching it and I would recommend it. So something it does very well (which I am a huge sucker for) is visual language. The film makers include shots that emphasize physical contact so there's tons of waist-level cuts of handshakes, close ups of someone handling an objects, or even just a shot of two people talking closely. These shots are really appropriate because the virus is spread through physical contact. And the usage of them through out the film adds a nice layer of impending doom to what could be a benign shot in any other movie.<br />
<br />
All in all, if you like drama / thriller movies, or you got a thing for science, I would recommend you see <i>Contagion</i>. Just don't worry if you can't remember any of the character names afterwards.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-4873871267031604182012-01-12T20:44:00.000-08:002012-01-12T20:44:45.908-08:00250 words: #19 Repetitive Logic Syndrome<i><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. It's kind of rare I see something cool on the bus. Most of my fellow passengers probably ignored it tonight, but the four of us sitting there were smiling about it. I wish I could've given the old dude a high five without it being super awkward.</span></i><br />
<br />
Maybe I shouldn't be surprised about
any of this. But every once in a while it's good to remind yourself
how bad logic is. Just because the sun rose everyday of my life,
doesn't mean it will rise tomorrow. We all know that it probably
will, but if it didn't it would change everything.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a>We could blame it on repetition. You
know, I've taken sick leave three times for repetitive strain
injuries. You just learn to cope when doing the same tasks all day.
Over the last decade I've gotten used to change. New buildings, new
cars, and new kinds of faces coming in, grouping up and growing. My
route bisected what used to be a upper-middle class neighbourhood.
Now I'm not complaining, but lately there are a lot of new immigrants
that moved into the area. Drove everybody like me out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The hardest part of my job are the
language barriers. I once had to stop the bus for 15 minutes and have
a shouting match with an Arabic gentleman who didn't understand the
rules about transfers. After a while, when you don't get a <i>hello
</i>or <i>thank you</i>
you just learn to assume they can't communicate. So when an Indian
gentleman got on the bus tonight and grunted for his transfer, it
didn't bother me. He sat down beside an Asian couple, and within five
minutes he was talking to them in Japanese. I couldn't help but
wonder how many languages he knew. Maybe change ain't always bad.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-47020597906747358032012-01-12T12:40:00.000-08:002012-01-12T12:40:47.684-08:00An Open AttitudeI can't speak for past generations, or professional circles of writers. All I can speak for is the experiences I've had as a developing writer, moving through the creative writing program at York University, in a changing writing environment that is on it's way to integrating a working digital platform for publishing. I don't know how easy it was in previous generations to avoid reviews, or critiques of your work, but in a network embedded, socially-driven publishing environment where a lot of new and developing writers are cutting our first manuscripts in, it is almost impossible to avoid opinions on your writing. It is necessary to have any chance at furthering your writing career to develop hits, links, reviews, and likes. But it's a disturbing trend I've seen that writers that depend on these networks to promote them, will dismiss any critique or issue a reader is having with their work.<br />
<br />
"<i>They don't get X, because of Y.</i>" is a common excuse I've heard both online and offline. This kind of dismissive attitude will not improve your writing, and will not grow your audience. I openly admit I've been guilty of this in the past too (if any of my classmates are reading this...). I am not trying to advocate that every issue raised by a reader should be or even needs to be addressed. After all the internet requires no standardized test or license to use, readers and commenters will be coming to your page with many many different levels of knowledge. What I am advocating is that an automatic dismissal of reader's opinions based on this fact is counter productive.<br />
<br />
Our jobs are writers are usually to share ideas, communicate, or deliver experiences. Often this is best achieved when the reader is immersed within our pieces (particularly in fiction). Therefore any moment where the reader is taken out of the experience, stops, and thinks about this or that nitpicky point is a barrier to our fundamental objective as a writer. How often when being disturbed while reading do you end up really enjoying your read? A nitpicking reader is experiencing the same disruption from internal processes as a disturbed reader from external sources. In the end neither lead to a positive reading experience.<br />
<br />
So as writers, if we want our writing to have the most impact during the post-publication review process we should be more open to the opinions of our readers. Even if the issues they raise are non-issues and don't need correcting, this does not mean our work is perfect. A reader did not have a smooth reading experience, and that means our piece is not optimally engaged. If we wish to improve our craft we should question the underlying mechanisms occurring and strive to fix them. If we simply ignore them we are doing the equivalent of looking down our nose at any reader who does not experience our product the way we consider it should be received. In the end it is impossible to please everyone, but the least we can do is come to our readers with enough respect for them and our art to have an open mind and attitude. Why bother writing otherwise?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-1104454052109795192012-01-05T07:12:00.001-08:002012-01-05T07:16:31.313-08:00250 words: #18 We Have the Bees<i><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html">here</a><span style="color: #666666;">. I woke up thinking about bees this morning. So yet again another story inspired by the liminal space between conciousness and dreams. All pseudoscience aside, Colony Collapse Disorder is real and scary.</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In 2006 beekeepers across North America
noticed wild fluctuations in their bee populations. A strong downward
trend was reported by scientists in 2007. Shortly after, the phrase
<i>Colony Collapse Disorder</i> was
coined by the Apiology community to describe the sudden population
decline. Apiologists have theorized the causes of <i>CCD</i>
could be everything from genetically modified crops, to selective
breeding techniques, pesticides, and microbes. Even one urine-scented
mad scientist we met on a street corner theorized that the bees were
disappearing due to radiation emitted by cell phones. He proceeded to
try to sell us tinfoil hats so we wouldn't collapse like the bees.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Suffice
to say, we didn't purchase any of his stupid hats because we know the
real cause behind <i>CCD.</i>
You conservative pundits may call us bee thieves, but the
Earth-loving population calls us bee liberators. Humanity has
domesticated wild bees for centuries, and exploited their labour with
little compensation in return.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
scientists were too busy investigating every farm claiming their bees
were missing, so they didn't check the only farm that had a growing
bee population. Our sanctuary farm is exploitation free, the bees are
allowed the nest and work as they please. We have 2.4 acres of
wildflowers for the bees to pollinate and socialize in. We also
provide the bees with educational seminars about their rights as
living creatures, and tutorials on how to weaponize honey in order to
liberate other hives. Make no action against us. We are PETI. We have
the bees.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-48051602909012322882011-12-31T10:51:00.000-08:002011-12-31T10:51:51.269-08:00250 words: #17 A Revolutionary Turn of Phrase<i><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html">here</a>. <span style="color: #666666;">Tonight we celebrate another revolution of the sun that marks the completion of 2011. So I thought I'd end the year in style and write about another revolution. I hope that your 2012 is even better than last year.</span></i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The term <i>Happy New Years </i>is
an old phrase, but with countless hours of work I have uncovered the
origin and development of the term. It's a story that begins in 1777
in a territory that is now called Pennsylvania. It was a time of
rebellion in North America. The thirteen colonies had just named
themselves independent, but were not yet recognized by the European
powers who desired control of the New World. General Washington had
encamped his army at Valley Forge in December 1777. Typically between
Christmas and New Years there was very little actual combat due to
eggnog and fruitcake related illness.</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Joseph
Wilson was a private in what had been the first squad of the US
Rangers. His loyalty to the colonies and his commander had became a
conflict of interest when Major Robert Rogers decided to fight for
with the British. Joseph resigned his position and joined
Washington's militia.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
On
December 31 it is documented that Joseph scouted the forest near the
camp. His journals described the smell of the camp “saturated with
post-holiday vomit and diarrhea.” But out in the forest Joseph came
upon three red coats huddled around a small campfire. In an act of
kindness or fruitcake induced stupor the British invited Joseph to
join them, and asked him to recall the best moments of the past year
(as was the European custom). Joseph turned up his nose and famously
told them, “Why look back? Happy New Years, you tea suckers.”</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-76349170973684301862011-12-31T10:05:00.000-08:002011-12-31T10:52:40.560-08:00250 words: #16 Wood for Sheep<i><span style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is an ongoing writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate the semblance of narrative arc. The original details of the project can be read</span> <a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html">here</a>. </i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">This is a public service that the judge required I write. Catan is dangerous. Always be careful while playing it. </span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You give me wood, Lianne.” Peter
said grinning.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Do I? I don't know...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Terrance had just returned from the
bathroom. “She damn well better not, Peter. That's my girlfriend
you're talking about!”<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Lianne put her hand on Terrance's arm,
but he pulled away. “I'm fucking tired of you running your mouth
all the time, Peter. I listen to it every day, you bitching about
this person or that person. All while talking yourself up and doing
nothing. And now when you finally make a move, it's on my girlfriend?
What the fuck's wrong with you?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Peter stood up from the couch, his face
as red as his tokens.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Arthur moved between them and put his
hands up, “Terrence.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Stay out of this, Arthur. This is
between me and him, not you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But you don't understand, Terrence.
Peter was-”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No I understand perfectly. Do you
think I'm stupid or something?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You better calm down, Terrence.
Listen to Arthur.” Peter suggested.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Or what?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think you know what'll happen.”
Peter threw down his cards onto the board, revealing two bricks and
two sheep.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Terrence! Stop it! Nothing was
happening.” Lianne shouted at him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“This is why I never invite you to
these things, Lianne. I know you wouldn't have any fun because these
skeezebags couldn't keep their dicks in check around a real girl.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shut up, Terrence. Peter was just
trying to trade a wood for a sheep.”</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-61551378195443173712011-12-29T11:29:00.001-08:002011-12-29T11:32:06.905-08:00250 words: #15 Hot Water<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is a (hopefully short) daily writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate a narrative arc. Details of the project can be read </span><a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="color: #666666;" target="_blank">here</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">. After a long holiday hiatus 250 returns. </span></i><br />
<br />
He had listened to many doctor's
opinions. Some claimed it was acute agoraphobia, so he locked himself
in a cupboard with his laptop for 24 hours. Another said it was a
rare form of tinnitus, so he purchased sound isolating headphones.
His theory was he just liked the sensation of hot water on his bare
ass. Every day, when he stepped into his shower stall his mind just
worked. He imagined he was like Archimedes when he shouted <i>Eureka</i>
and sprang from the bath, running down main street in only his
epidermis. It was a romantic idea, but unlike Archimedes, by the time
he reached his bathroom door he couldn't remember what he was
hollering about.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He
could replicate a fraction of the effect by sipping on a cup of hot
water steeped with oxidized and chopped leaves. It was the more
practical approach since if he stood under a faucet all day not only
would his water bill bankrupt him, his skin would also end up all
pruny. But his ideas would only materialize halfway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Unsatisfied
he attempted to record his thoughts during those hot daily downpours
of inspiration. He had tried many approaches to save his ideas. But
his final attempt was to rig his shower with a voice recorder and
microphone. If you listen to the recording today it begins with a
sharp eighty decibel spike, then for five hours and thirty six
minutes it's only white noise from the running water. His theories
were completely inaudible.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-34525670635767207512011-12-22T14:35:00.000-08:002011-12-22T14:35:59.764-08:00250 words: The Future?Hi-ho!<br />
<br />
So I have some good news, and some bad news. The good news is that I have found employment. Horray! Good for me (since you dearest readers profit from my unemployment). And that may be the bad news... I set up 250 words to keep myself busy during my stint of unemployment, I've been out 5 weeks now total, and wrote 14 stories since starting the project about a month ago. Not bad. I'm kind of proud of my minor accomplishment here.<br />
<br />
But I have ten days to go before I begin work again. So there will be more stories until I officially start. As for <i>250 words</i> future... well that's up to you. If you've read them and enjoyed them and want to see them keep going give me a shout in the comments/twitter/on the street/in my dreams/via smoke signal, and they may just keep going. I'm not going to establish a quantitative measure of "necessary outcry" because how does one measure outcry, decibels seems to not cut it and can be easily faked.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-47283076677823279312011-12-22T14:21:00.001-08:002011-12-22T14:24:44.132-08:00250 words: #14 Auto-Pilot<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is a (hopefully short) daily writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate a narrative arc. Details of the project can be read </span><a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="color: #666666;" target="_blank">here</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">. As a special gift (given the season) today's 250 words is a prose poem story. Ooh, fancy!</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></i><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I walked home across College St. The
taste of oversteeped tea resting on my tongue. It was then I decided
I wanted to use the word <i>rookery </i>in a poem, but I needed to
look up the proper meaning first. It felt like my feet never quite
touched the ground. I really hate new shoes. There was a group of
middle-aged girls huddled from the wind in a half crescent, their
cigarette butts glowed orange at their feet. I stopped too long on a
street corner, allowing the short pink skirt to get ahead. Pretended
to look down a side street, distracted at nothing, at the same old
yellow street lights half on half off. My hat nearly blew away as she
entered that Tim Hortons.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I remembered Pound's explanation of his
famous two lines while floating on the subway. Perhaps I stared at
the faces too long. Observing them not as photos or tableau or
montage but as living machines. Their interconnected kinetic dance,
muscles pull tendons beneath skin. I agree, Pound. If I were to stop
them to investigate a smile or scrunch it would all dispel. There
were no seats left when I boarded the train well there were but there
are things called boundaries which are not polite to cross in
unfamiliar company. A new train had pulled into the station. The kind
I wanted to ride for months but had now become tired of them after a
half dozen opportunities to ride inside of them.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-17413096693914772592011-12-20T07:33:00.001-08:002011-12-20T07:40:29.002-08:00250 words: #13 Body Art<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is a (hopefully short) daily writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate a narrative arc. Details of the project can be read </span><a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="color: #666666;" target="_blank">here</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">. I woke up this morning with the title dangling around in my head during those few moments when words and sense haven't connected yet. As things booted, I decided to see what I could make of it.</span></i><br />
<br />
I remember it was the first day of
grade two. Mom walked us to the building we'd forgotten about for the
summer. My sister and I were wearing matching dresses that day. They
were blue and white jumpers that my mom had made. During my first
period class I was hopelessly distracted, I had scored a seat next to
the window. I watched a V of geese fly by. It was the teacher's first
day too, so she didn't care. I remember whenever she bent down to
check out what I was doing I could see down her shirt.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I used to sit near the front during
story time and fidget a lot. Ms. Vilace would have to bend over from
her stool, get real close and she'd whisper to me to stop squirming.
She had a tattoo over her heart, I can't tell you what it was though.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It might have been the fourth or fifth
day. During recess a boy and I had found a snake in the schoolyard
coiled up at the base of a tree. We watched it swallow a rat. I don't
know if it was ambitious or just greedy, but it seemed impossible
that it could work its jaw that wide. Swallowing the rat bits at a
time. Soon all that was left was the hind legs and tail hanging out.
The snake stopped swallowing and the bell rang. At lunch it was still
there, feet and tail still sticking out of it's mouth.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-56753801108012299882011-12-18T12:17:00.000-08:002011-12-20T07:41:00.104-08:00250 words: #12 Vegan Propaganda<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is a (hopefully short) daily writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate a narrative arc. Details of the project can be read </span><a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="color: #666666;" target="_blank">here</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">. I once wanted to write a story about bacteria living in milk. This conversation may have occurred if I didn't realize that was a bad idea. </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Disclaimer to </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">my vegan friends and readers</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">: I harbour no animosity towards you, or your choice of diet and/or lifestyle. I don't need to receive emails full of death-threats and nightshade laced attachments. </span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So at the end of the story, just
when everything calms down there's this earthquake under the village
and everyone starts panicking. All the people are running in the
streets, houses are falling down, you know the stuff of disaster
movies. But then everything stops, and they look around and there's
tons of food. I'm talking about all different kinds of fruit, fields
of it. They rejoice. But it starts getting colder. And that's the
hook, this whole time the village was a colony of bacteria making
yogurt. The disaster is somebody's breakfast smoothy!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wait. You expect readers to care
about bacteria?”<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah, after thirteen chapters of
character development who wouldn't become invested in them?
Acidophilus are living too. That's the point!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Jeremy, the pitch sounds terrible.
It seems like it's vegan propaganda. You're going to have a very
narrow readership, it'll be hard to get published.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Do you think it was easy for Galileo
to get published?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No-”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Was it easy for Nabokov?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No, but-”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Was it easy for-”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No, but you're not these people!
Galileo was investigated by the Roman inquisition, Lolita was about
paedophilia, and whomever you were about to use as an example I'm
sure had their own circumstances. But they all had something
important to say.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So what are you saying, bacteria
aren't important too?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“They're important, but- No, yes.
That's exactly what I'm saying. No one will read a story about
bacteria.”</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-55689301153233707312011-12-14T13:27:00.000-08:002011-12-14T13:28:25.620-08:00Over-analysis: In defense of Leia's love.Before I start taking pot shots at nits, I would like to preface this with two pieces of key information. Though I am about to talk about gender issues as I see them, let it be known I have not taken a gender studies class, but have studied the subject tangentially through other courses where there is overlap. Therefore I will not be dropping quotations or evidence from academic experts on the subject. This is how I see the issue, but perspectives can always change. Preface the second; this is not the classic foaming-at-the-mouth-geek-debate of which iconic two worded sci-fi series that includes the word "star" is better. Though the meme over-analysed here concerns both these series. I promise to put away my sith robe and I won't bobble my Chewie bobblehead while writing this.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1447592376"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsbAcbe-qQJPLfH-IPFignv01JvzM6iOAls-7CVDk2SiBotyzG7c0-39PffeyficEp8kCarALkqN0_y4PYBP0ZkB1_8_rhrGXSSXlr96kvWjWam9kYbQ9mFs4a-lbkuLhDViaHKDD_Ga2/s320/feminism.jpg" width="164" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yet another meme making the rounds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So what am I talking about? This morning I caught the following image pop up on my Facebook feed. It's a silly meme comparing the female characters of several popular sci-fi / fantasy series. Twilight's cardboard cutout female lead is clearly the butt of the joke, but that's not what bothers me. It's with the final two panels (I'm so glad I prefaced that now). What it seems to suggest is that while Hermione and Leia are strong female characters, that Captain Janeway is the ultimate female character. But why is she the ultimate female figure? Because she has eschewed love from her character. That's what I find a problem. In short, you can't use the antithesis of a century old stereotype and claim it's a perfect representation of modern femininity.<br />
<br />
Lots of female characters can only be described as 'the love interest' because the only role they fulfil is to facilitate romance. Viewed as a binary this perspective creates imbalance; the female characters are associated with love, but the male characters are not often reciprocally described as love-generators, they are usually described based on the attributes of their respective heroic quest. Yet for every Isolde there is an Tristan (this is true if you only subscribe to a strictly heteronormitive ideology. I don't mean to marginalise homosexual and other forms of relationships here, I recognise they exist but the argument revolves around the male-female relationship dynamic). This is why I don't subscribe to binaries, they are too simplistic and therefore restrictive. The above ideology does not just create stock female characters, but also stock male characters. Bad form all around.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
But here comes my point, ready? <u>The inclusion of love is not an attribute that lessens a female character's strength.</u> In reality both men and women experience love, it is a wholly human attribute. Just because it was used as a narrative device that marginalised and circumscribed female roles for many centuries does not make it's exclusion a liberating force. In fact it's exclusion on these grounds can be just as restrictive as it's classically restrictive usage. Through this statement I do not wish to imply that Captain Janeway, and other female characters that eschew romance cannot be strong female role models. The reason why female characters were weak and stereotypical is because their roles in story were restricted because of plot devices and contrivances. Simply removing romantic traits from female characters is just as restrictive because it limits the possibilities of plot.<br />
<br />
Captain Janeway is a strong female character without romantic attributes because she is written into a story that does not present those options as plausible routes. She does not require them to facilitate the continuation and conclusion of her plot while she is fulfilling many different roles. At the same time just because Leia falls in love with Han does not weaken her character as a female role model. Remember for love she ends up having to choke out a massive mob-boss in perhaps one of the most iconic "sexist" costumes (<i>Jedi</i>, sarlacc scene, Jabba and the gold bikini). That's pretty bad-ass. So while including a love storyline, Leia can still fulfil many other roles. Romance just doesn't happen to be what defines her character and plot. That's why these women characters are strong role models, because they are not defined by any one character trait and stomp around the entire story championing it. They are complex and complicated, and that's what makes them an enjoyment to watch/read/experience.<br />
<br />
I know it's just a silly meme. You could say maybe this whole piece is just nit-picking, but I believe as long as these misguided binaries exist in our collective consciousnesses they will continue to inform the way we think and view the world. In order to get beyond them, we must drag every last one out, one at a time, and publicly flog them for the betterment of human intelligence. What makes a character a strong role model? Complexity and depth, not the inclusion or exclusion of specific traits.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6020558059890673094.post-2737187551299010622011-12-13T08:53:00.001-08:002011-12-13T08:56:30.366-08:00250 words: #11 Gifts<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">"250 words" is a (hopefully short) daily writing series. Every story must be 250 words exactly and incorporate a narrative arc. Details of the project can be read </span><a href="http://beaublairblog.blogspot.com/2011/11/unemployment-project-daily-250-word.html" style="color: #666666;" target="_blank">here</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">. Today's words are dedicated to all the generous and caring people in my life. They know who they are.</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I've never understood why anyone would
want a turtle-dove. It just seems like a bad gift, a white elephant.
Sounds like something a romantically-challenged geneticist cooked up
for his wife because he forgot to get her a gift. I can understand
the pear tree though. Pears are delicious. I've just never liked that
song. It doesn't make sense, who needs that much stuff? <i>All I want
for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth </i>is
much more sensible.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But last week I was downtown shopping.
I avoid the mall (since it reminds me of <i>Dawn of the Dead</i>),
but my nephew demanded a gift card from the only store that doesn't
have a location outside the mall. I remember there was a homeless man
shouting something after I went by. It's usually easiest to not
listen, they mostly say the same thing anyway. So I tried to make it
in and out as fast as possible, but the crowds were a chore, and it
was impossible to find the place without x-ray vision. Anyway,
mission accomplished; a tiny $25 gift card in a plastic bag. When I
exited the mall I accidentally made eye-contact with the homeless
man. He started shouting and waving his hand at me. I made a sharp
turn and walked to other way down the street, but in a moment I felt
a bony hand on my arm. I wrenched free as I turned. His hand was
offered up to me, “Hey, you dropped your keys.”</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02158255222646917407noreply@blogger.com0