Thug Notes - At the Mountains of Madness

This is genius. :D

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UlFHzQ7pq0Y

The Vandermeers are Coming to Town!

So this is probably the most exciting local news I've heard for a bit. Glaswegian author Neil Williamson has organised with Waterstones on Argyll Street to host an evening with Ann and Jeff Vandermeer. Not only that but they will be joined by Glasgow's own Hal Duncan and Amal el-Mohtar. Excited? I think I am. :D

The event is on the 21st of August(the day before my birthday - how perfect is that?) at 7pm. Tickets are free but need to be booked in advance by calling the store.

WATERSTONE'S GLASGOW ARGYLE ST
Thursday, 21 August 2014, 7:00PM - 8:30PM
Tickets are free, call to reserve

We are pleased to announce an evening with the talented Ann and Jeff VanderMeer who will be in conversation with Glasgow's masters of the fantastic: Amal El-Mohtar, Hal Duncan and Neil Williamson. Join us in a celebration of the weird and wonderful world of science fiction and fantasy with some of the genre's most talented authors.

Further Details: 0141 248 4814

The Weird comes to Glasgow, at last! :D

Ms. X and the Reverse Sexism

Was chatting to X, the smallest of the family strange, last night and she mentioned this 'annoying boy' who had sent her a private message on Tumblr. He was pointing out that she posts a lot of stuff about equality yet she also posts a lot of stuff about Orange is the New Black. The exchange went something like this.

Annoying Boy

You post all this stuff about people all being equal but you also post a load of stuff about Orange is the New Black and all the male characters are bad guys.

Little Ms. X

Not all the men are bad guys, John Bennett is a nice guy.

Annoying Boy

Well how am I supposed to like a show where there's only one decent representation of my entire gender?

Little Ms. X

I dunno. Must be hard!

Proud? Oh yes we are. :D

Listen to the The Tansads

The Tansads were a folk/punk/indie band from Wigan(North of England) in the 1990s. They rocked and they kept me sane(ish) throughout the 1990s. Enjoy. :)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqmhz51oAz0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bv3rK1k4jWc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZotfSiLInx8

Running Orders by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha

I saw this horribly beautifully sad poem on Facebook earlier.



They call us now.
Before they drop the bombs.
The phone rings
and someone who knows my first name
calls and says in perfect Arabic
“This is David.”
And in my stupor of sonic booms and glass shattering symphonies
still smashing around in my head
I think "Do I know any Davids in Gaza?"
They call us now to say
Run.
You have 58 seconds from the end of this message.
Your house is next.
They think of it as some kind of war time courtesy.
It doesn’t matter that
there is nowhere to run to.
It means nothing that the borders are closed
and your papers are worthless
and mark you only for a life sentence
in this prison by the sea
and the alleyways are narrow
and there are more human lives
packed one against the other
more than any other place on earth
Just run.
We aren’t trying to kill you.
It doesn’t matter that
you can’t call us back to tell us
the people we claim to want aren’t in your house
that there’s no one here
except you and your children
who were cheering for Argentina
sharing the last loaf of bread for this week
counting candles left in case the power goes out.
It doesn’t matter that you have children.
You live in the wrong place
and now is your chance to run
to nowhere.
It doesn’t matter
that 58 seconds isn’t long enough
to find your wedding album
or your son’s favorite blanket
or your daughter’s almost completed college application
or your shoes
or to gather everyone in the house.
It doesn’t matter what you had planned.
It doesn’t matter who you are
Prove you’re human.
Prove you stand on two legs.
Run.

A Day Off!

Three actually. In a row! I've not had a day off work since June 12th and now I have three of them! Wahey! I can read, I can write. Oh me oh my do I feel good. :D

But what to read? I've got one hell of a backlog that has built up over the last year or so what with university, dissertation, and work. My present backlog looks a little like this, since you asked. Which you didn't but this is it anyway.

To Finish: This is all short stories. I tend to take a collection with me to read during my commute as the 20-30 minutes on the train is normally just about right to get through a story.

The Weird - edited by Ann & Jeff Vandermeer

The Dark Domain - Stefan Grabinski

The Bloody Chamber - Angela Carter

American Supernatural Tales - edited by S.T. Joshi

To Read: Books that I haven't had the chance to dip into yet but am chomping at the bit to devour. :)

The Spectral Link - Thomas Ligotti

The Grimscribe's Puppets - edited by Joe Pulver

Celebrant - Michael Cisco

Deadtown Abbey - Sean Hoade

The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All - Laird Barron

I also need to be writing. Currently I have a cosmic horror story set amongst the Caledonii of Iron Age Scotland, and a post-apocalyptic Lovecraftian tale on the go. I also really need to get some more blog post writing done. On that front you can expect my half arsed attempt at an analysis of Ligotti's Our Temporary Supervisor - which is, beyond a doubt, my favourite story from the Grimscribe himself.

So, until next time. Stay weird. :D

 

PS: Also; BIG congratulations to Joe Pulver who's anthology The Grimscribe's Puppets won the Shirley Jackson award for best anthology! WAHEY!

Indefensible

I don't care if someone from the Gaza strip fired a hundred home made fucking rockets at you. This is not an acceptable response. This is fucking disgusting.

http://youtu.be/op5V8vNSQjE

For more info see the Gaza Youth Breaks Out Facebook page.

 

Big in Ugarit

Ever wondered what people rocked out to in the Levant during the Bronze Age? Of course you have! Open Culture have posted an interesting wee article about cuneiform tablets that were excavated during the 1950s at Ugarit. Ugarit was a Levantine city that was abandoned/destroyed at the end of the Late Bronze Age during the LBA collapse. The LBA collapse saw the collapse of many of the great civilisations of the ancient Near East through a mixture of climate change, war fare, competition for resources, and ever widening economic inequality.

[caption id="attachment_422" align="aligncenter" width="474"] Transcribed by Dr Anne Draffkorn Kilmer, professor of Assyriology at the University of California[/caption]

The reasons for the LBA collapse are frighteningly similar to the ones which we face today and so I think this music reaching us across the millennia has a particularly haunting quality. It's an echo from a civilisation that couldn't rise to the challenges we face and unless we get our collective shit together perhaps all that will remain of our achievements will be a song across time.

And if we don't get it together let's just hope it's not Justin Bieber that survives...

Here's a lyre interpretation of the song by Michael Levy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9c-hmFN610g

 

This Monday

14/07/2014

That is all.

The Dreamlands - New Trailer

Huan Vu is still raising funds to complete his production of The Dreamlands - a film based on HPL's Dream Cycle. So far he is over half way to his goal of €40,000 with 29 days to go. So you should definitely go and throw money at him. :)

He's just released a new full length trailer for the film which does look absolutely bizarre, as it should do.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEiC4a6PLcI

At the Mountains of PG-13

Damn you Del Toro! Damn you and your teasing ways! I had only just gotten over the disappointment of your production of At the Mountains of Madness being shelved following the release of the appalling Prometheus and now you're teasing us with the prospect that the film may yet see the light of day!

Last night the folks over at the Lovecraft Ezine discussed the pros and cons of the film being released as a PG-13. It seems that one of the main stumbling blocks to the film being green lit a couple of years ago was that Del Toro was adamant he wanted an R rating and the studio weren't keen to throw money at a film with a restricted audience. According to Mike during the Ezine video chat there were quite a lot of Lovecraft fans that were upset with this change to being willing to make the film as a PG-13. Some accused Del Toro of caving to the studios demands. To be honest I was slightly disappointed as well given that it's a horror film and should probably be an 18/R rated film. That disappointed was, however, considerably outweighed by just how excited I am that the film may be made at all!

Now being a Brit I'm not especially au-fait with the American movie certification system and the idea of a horror film being rated PG-13 does strike me as rather odd. PG-13 sounds, to me, like the British classification '12'. Not what I would expect of a proper horror film. I was therefore rather surprised when I googled a list of PG-13 rated horror films and found that there are quite a number of really, really good horror films with this classification. Films like Ringu, Ju-on, Chakushin ari, and Låt den rätte komma in all have PG-13 ratings in the US(15 in the UK) and so I'm more than happy if At the Mountains of Madness gets a PG-13 certificate.

Pete Rawlik also pointed out that it is perfectly possible for Del Toro to film the scenes that would have pushed the movie up into an R rating and to only include those in an unrated 'Directors Cut' version on the DVD/Blue Ray release. Something that would also make me very, very happy. :)

Anyway, here's the video chat with Mike Davis, Pete Rawlik, and Rick Lai from last night. And if you haven't already read At the Mountains of Madness go here and grab yourself a copy for free.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0oRldRnZpU

Play

A while back I posted a version of the Samuel Beckett play Not I. At the time I was looking for a particular version of Play but it had been removed from YouTube. I have now found the version I was seeking on Vimeo. So, for your cultural edification, starring Alan Rickman(M), Kristin Scott Thomas(W1), and Juliet Stevenson(W2), here it is. :)

http://vimeo.com/28766126

PLAY

 A play in one act by Samuel Beckett

 

Front centre, touching one another, three identical grey urns. From each a head protrudes, the neck held fast in the urn's mouth. The heads are those, from left to right as seen from auditorium, of w2, m and w1. They face undeviatingly front throughout the play. Faces so lost to age and aspect as to seem almost part of urns. But no masks. Their speech is provoked by a spotlight projected on faces alone). The transfer of light from one face to another is immediate. No blackout, i.e. return to almost complete darkness of opening, except where indicated. The response to light is immediate. Faces impassive throughout. Voices toneless except where an expression is indicated. Rapid tempo throughout.

 

The curtain rises on a stage in almost complete darkness.
Urns just discernible. Five seconds.
Faint spots simultaneously on three faces. Three seconds. Voices faint, largely unintelligible.

 

(altogether)

W1: Yes strange    darkness best     and the darker    the worse

W2: Yes perhaps    a shade gone    I suppose    some might say

M: Yes peace           one assumed      all out         all the pain
W1:till all dark    then all well    for the time    but it will come

W2: poor thing    a shade gone    just a shade    in the head

M: all as if    never been    it will come   Hiccup. Pardon

 

W1: the time will come    the thing is there    you'll see it

W2: Laugh . . .    just a shade    but I doubt it

M: no sense in this    oh I know    none the less

 

W1: get off me    keep off me    all dark    all still

W2: I doubt it    not really    I'm all right    still all right

M: one assumed    peace I mean    not merely    all over

 

W1: all over    wiped out   --

W2: do my best    all I can --

M: but as if    never been --

 

Blackout. Five seconds.

Spots on three faces. Three seconds.

 

(altogether)

W1: I said to him, Give her up –

W2: One Morning as I was sitting –

M: We were not long together--

 Spots off. Blackout. Five seconds.

Spot on W1
W1 : I said to him, Give her up. I swore by all I held most sacred --
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W2 : One morning as I was sitting stitching by the open window she burst in and flew at me. Give him up, she screamed, he's mine. Her photographs were kind to her. Seeing her now for the first time full length in the flesh I understood why he preferred me.
[Spot from w2 to M.]
M :  We were not long together when she smelled the rat. Give up that whore, she said, or I'll cut my throat -- [Hiccup.] Pardon -- so help me God. I knew she could have no proof. So I told her I did not know what she was talking about.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W2 : What are you talking about? I said, stitching away. Someone yours? Give up whom? I smell you off him, she screamed, he stinks of bitch.
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W1 : Though I had him dogged for months by a first-rate man, no shadow of proof was forthcoming. And there was no denying that he continued as . . . assiduous as ever. This, and his horror of the merely Platonic thing, made me sometimes wonder if I were not accusing him unjustly. Yes.
[Spot from w1 to M.]
M :  What have you to complain of ? I said. Have I been neglecting you? How could we be together in the way we are if there were someone else? Loving her as I did, with all my heart, I could not but feel sorry for her.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W2 : Fearing she was about to offer me violence I rang for Erskine and had her shown out. Her parting words, as he could testify, if he is still living, and has not forgotten, coming and going on the earth, letting people in, showing people out, were to the effect that she would settle my hash. I confess this did alarm me a little, at the time.
[Spot from W2 to M.]
M : She was not convinced. I might have known. I smell her off you, she kept saying. There was no answer to this. So I took her in my arms and swore I could not live without her. I meant it, what is more. Yes, I am sure I did. She did not repulse me.
[Spot from M to W 1.]
W1 : Judge then of my astonishment when one fine morning, as I was sitting stricken in the morning room, he slunk in, fell on his knees before me, buried his face in my lap and . . . confessed.
[Spot from w1 to M.]
M : She put a bloodhound on me, but I had a little chat with him. He was glad of the extra money.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W2 : Why don't you get out, I said, when he started moaning about his home life, there is obviously nothing between you any more. Or is there?
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W1 : I confess my first feeling was one of wonderment. What a male!
[Spot from w1 to M.]

M :  He opens his mouth to speak –

      [ Spot from M to W2.]
W2 : Anything between us, he said, what do you take me for, a something machine? And of course with him no danger of the . . . spiritual thing. Then why don't you get out? I said. I sometimes wondered if he was not living with her for her money.
[Spot from w2 to M.]
M : The next thing was the scene between them. I can't have her crashing in here, she said, threatening to take my life. I must have looked incredulous. Ask Erskine, she said, if you don't believe me. But she threatens to take her own, I said. Not yours?  she said. No, I said, hers. We had fun trying to work this out.
[Spot from M to W1.]
W1 : Then I forgave him. To what will love not stoop! I suggested a little jaunt to celebrate, to the Riviera or our darling Grand Canary. He was looking pale. Peaked. But this was not possible just then. Professional commitments.
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W2 : She came again. Just strolled in. All honey. Licking her lips. Poor thing. I was doing my nails, by the open window. He has told me all about it, she said. Who he, I said filing away, and what it? I know what torture you must be going through, she said, and I have dropped in to say I bear you no ill-feeling. I rang for Erskine.
[Spot from w2 to M.]
M : Then I got frightened and made a clean breast of it. She was looking more and more desperate. She had a razor in her vanity-bag. Adulterers, take warning, never admit.
[Spot from M to w1.]
W1 : When I was satisfied it was all over I went to have a gloat. Just a common tart. What he could have found in her when he had me --
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W2 : When he came again we had it out. I felt like death. He went on about why he had to tell her. Too risky and so on. That meant he had gone back to her. Back to that!
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W1 : Pudding face, puffy, spots, blubber mouth, jowls, no neck, dugs you could --
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W2 : He went on and on. I could hear a mower. An old hand mower. I stopped him and said that whatever I might feel I had no silly threats to offer--but not much stomach for her leavings either. He thought that over for a bit.
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W1 : Calves like a flunkey --
[Spot from w1 to M.]
M : When I saw her again she knew. She was looking -- [Hiccup.] --wretched. Pardon. Some fool was cutting grass. A little rush, then another. The problem was how to convince her that no . . . revival of intimacy was involved. I couldn't. I might have known. So I took her in my arms and said I could not go on living without her. I don't believe I could have.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W2 : The only solution was to go away together. He swore we should as soon as he had put his affairs in order. In the meantime we were to carry on as before. By that he meant as best we could.
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W1 : So he was mine again. All mine. I was happy again. I went about singing. The world --
[Spot from w1 to M.]
M : At home all heart to heart, new leaf and bygones bygones. I ran into your ex-doxy, she said one night, on the pillow, you're well out of that. Rather uncalled for, I thought. I am indeed, sweetheart, I said, I am indeed. God what vermin women. Thanks to you, angel, I said.
[Spot from M to W1.]
W1 : Then I began to smell her off him again. Yes.
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W2 : When he stopped coming I was prepared. More or less.
[Spot from w2 to M.]
M : Finally it was all too much. I simply could no longer --
[Spot from M to W1.]
W1 : Before I could do anything he disappeared. That meant she had won. That slut! I couldn't credit it. I lay stricken for weeks. Then I drove over to her place. It was all bolted and barred. All grey with frozen dew. On the way back by Ash and Snodland --
[Spot from w1 to M.]
M :  I simply could no longer--
[Spot from M to W2.]
W2: I made a bundle of his things and burnt them. It was November and the bonfire was going. All night I smelt them smouldering.


[Spot off W 2. Blackout. Five seconds.

      Spots half previous strength simultaneously on three faces. Three         seconds.

 Voices proportionately lower.]

 

Altogether

W 1 : Mercy, mercy --

W 2 : To say I am –

M :    When first this change—

 

[Spots off. Blackout. Five seconds.

Spot on M.]


M : When first this change I actually thanked God. I thought, It is done, it is said, now all       is going out –

       [Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Mercy, mercy, tongue still hanging out for mercy. It will come. You haven't seen me. But you will. Then it will come.
[Spot from W1 to W2.]
W 2 : To say I am not disappointed, no, I am. I had anticipated something better. More restful.
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W 1 : Or you will weary of me.
[Spot from W1 to M.]
M : Down, all going down, into the dark, peace is coming, I thought, after all, at last, I was right, after all, thank God, when first this change.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 :Less confused. Less confusing. At the same time I prefer this to . . .  the other thing. Definitely. There are endurable moments.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : I thought.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : When you go out -- and I go out. Some day you will tire of me and go out . . . for good.
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W 1 : Hellish half-light.
[Spot from W1 to M.]
M : Peace, yes, I suppose, a kind of peace, and all that pain as if . . . never been.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : Give me up, as a bad job. Go away and start poking and pecking at someone else. On the other hand--
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W 1 : Get off me! Get off me!
[Spot from W1 to M.]
M : It will come. Must come. There is no future in this.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : On the other hand things may disimprove, there is that danger.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Oh of course I know now--
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Is it that I do not tell the truth, is that it, that some day somehow I may tell the truth at last and then no more light at last, for the truth?
[Spot from W1 to W2.]
W 2 : You might get angry and blaze me clean out of my wits. Mightn't you?
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : I know now, all that was just . . . play. And all this? When will all this--
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Is that it?
[Spot from W1 to W2.]
W 2 : Mightn't you?
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : All this, when will all this have been . . . just play?
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : I can do nothing . . . for anybody . . . any more . . . thank God. So it must be something I have to say. How the mind works still!
[Spot from W1 to W2.]
W 2 : But I doubt it. It would not be like you somehow. And you must know I am doing my best. Or don't you?
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Perhaps they have become friends. Perhaps sorrow --
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : But I have said all I can. All you let me. All I --
[Spot from W1 to M .]
M : Perhaps sorrow has brought them together.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : No doubt I make the same mistake as when it was the sun that shone, of looking for sense where possibly there is none.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Perhaps they meet, and sit, over a cup of that green tea they both so loved, without milk or sugar not even a squeeze of lemon --
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : Are you listening to me? Is anyone looking at me? Is anyone bothering about me at all?
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Not even a squeeze of--
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Is it something I should do with my face, other than utter? Weep?
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W 2 : Am I taboo, I wonder. Not necessarily, now that all danger is averted. That poor creature -- I can hear her -- that poor creature --
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W 1 : Bite off my tongue and swallow it? Spit it out? Would that placate you? How the mind works still to be sure!
[Spot from W1 to M .]
M : Meet, and sit, now in the one dear place, now in the other, and sorrow together, and compare -- [Hiccup.] pardon -- happy memories.
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : If only I could think. There is no sense in this . . . either, none whatsoever. I can't.
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W 2 : That poor creature who tried to seduce you, what ever became of her, do you suppose? -- I can hear her. Poor thing.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Personally I always preferred Lipton's.
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : And that all is falling, all fallen, from the beginning, on empty air. Nothing being  asked at all. No one asking me for anything at all.
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W 2 : They might even feel sorry for me, if they could see me. But never so sorry as I for them.
[Spot from w2 to w1.]
W 1 : I can't
[Spot from w1 to w2.]
W 2 : Kissing their sour kisses.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : I pity them in any case, yes, compare my lot with theirs, however blessed, and--
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : I can't. The mind won't have it. It would have to go. Yes.
[Spot from W1 to M .]
M : Pity them.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : What do you do when you go out? Shift?
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Am I hiding something? Have I lost--
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : She had means, I fancy, though she lived like a pig.
[Spot from W 1to W2.]
W 2 : Like dragging a great roller, on a scorching day. The strain . . . to get it moving, momentum coming --
[Spot off  W2. Blackout. Three seconds. Spot on W2.]
W 2 : Kill it and strain again.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : Have I lost . . . the thing you want? Why go out? Why go --
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : And you perhaps pitying me, thinking. Poor thing, she needs a rest.
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W 1 : Perhaps she has taken him away to live . . . somewhere in the sun.
[Spot from W 1to M.]
M : Why go down? Why not --
[Spot from M to W2.]
W2 : I don't know.
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W 1 : Perhaps she is sitting somewhere, by the open window, her hands folded in her lap, gazing down out over the olives --
[Spot from W 1to M.]
M : Why not keep on glaring at me without ceasing? I might start to rave and -- [Hiccup.] -- bring it up for you. Par --
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : No.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : -- don
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Gazing down out over the olives, then the sea, wondering what can be keeping him, growing cold. Shadow stealing over everything. Creeping. Yes.
[Spot from W 1to M.]
M : To think we were never together.
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : Am I not perhaps a little unhinged already?
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W 1 : Poor creature. Poor creatures.
[Spot from W 1to M.]
M : Never woke together, on a May morning, the first to wake to wake the other two. Then in a little dinghy--
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Penitence, yes, at a pinch, atonement, one was resigned, but no, that does not  seem to be the point either.
[Spot from W1 to W2.]
W 2 : I say, Am I not perhaps a little unhinged already? [Hopefully.] Just a little? [Pause.] I doubt it.
[Spot from W2 to M .]
M : A little dinghy --
[Spot from M to W1.]
W 1 : Silence and darkness were all I craved. Well, I get a certain amount of both. They being one. Perhaps it is more wickedness to pray for more.
[Spot from W 1 to M.]
M : A little dinghy, on the river, I resting on my oars, they lolling on air-pillows in the stern . . . sheets. Drifting. Such fantasies.
[Spot from M to W 1.]
W 1 : Hellish half-light.
[Spot from W 1 to  W2.]
W 2 : A shade gone. In the head. Just a shade. I doubt it.
[Spot from W2 to M.]
M : We were not civilized.
[Spot from M to W 1.]
W 1 : Dying for dark -- and the darker the worse. Strange.
[Spot from W 1 to M.]
M : Such fantasies. Then. And now--
[Spot from M to W2.]
W 2 : I doubt it.
[Pause.]

 W 2:  Peal of wild low laughter [cut short[

     [spot fromW2 to W1.]
W 1 : Yes, and the whole thing there, all there, staring you in the face. You will see it. Get off me. Or weary.
[Spot from W 1 to M.]
M : And now, that you are . . . mere eye. Just looking. At my face. On and off.
[Spot from M to W 1.]
W 1 : Weary of playing with me. Get off me. Yes.
[Spot from W 1to M.]
M : Looking for something. In my face. Some truth. In my eyes. Not even.
[Spot from M to W2.

W2 : Laugh as before [cut short]

     [Spot from W2 to M.]
M : Mere eye. No mind. Opening and shutting on me. Am I as much --
[Spot  off. Blackout. Three seconds.

    Spot on M.]
M : Am I much as . . . being seen?


[Spot off  M. Blackout. Five seconds.

    Faint spots simultaneously on three faces.Three seconds.

    Voices faint largely unintelligible.]

 

(altogether)

W1: Yes strange    darkness best     and the darker    the worse

W2: Yes perhaps    a shade gone    I suppose    some might say

M: Yes peace    one assumed    all out    all the pain

W1:till all dark    then all well    for the time    but it will come

W2: poor thing    a shade gone    just a shade    in the head

M: all as if    never been    it will come   Hiccup. Pardon

 

W1: the time will come    the thing is there    you'll see it

W2: Laugh . . .    just a shade    but I doubt it

M: no sense in this    oh I know    none the less

 

W1: get off me    keep off me    all dark    all still

W2: I doubt it    not really    I'm all right    still all right

M: one assumed    peace I mean    not merely    all over

 

W1: all over    wiped out   --

W2: do my best    all I can --

M: but as if    never been --

 

Blackout. Five seconds.

Spots on three faces. Three seconds.

 

(altogether)

W1: I said to him, Give her up –

W2: One Morning as I was sitting –

M: We were not long together –

Spots off. Blackout. Five seconds.

 

Repeat Play.

 

M : [Closing repeat.] Am I as much as . . . being seen?
[Spot off M. Blackout. Five seconds.

      Strong spots simultaneously on   three faces. Three seconds.]

     

     [Altogether. Voices normal strength.]

W 1 I said to him. Give her up --

W 2 One morning as I was sitting --

M : We were not long together --

 

   [Spots off. Blackout. Five seconds.

   Spot on M.]


M : We were not long together --
[Spot off M. Blackout. Five seconds.]

 

                                                CURTAIN

Some Strange and Horrible Shorts

X, the smallest of the Family Strange, recently introduced me to the videos of Anna Akana. Anna has a YouTube channel where she uploads her videos and some of them are delightfully odd and disturbing. :)

Enjoy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQ_fOV5iWq4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCveq0ZLNyU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxrNTu6sk-U

And her most recent one which is truly bizarre :D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlz-ek4hwFs

Amazon vs. Hachett Weirdness

The ongoing spat between Amazon and Hachett has become really, really fucking weird. It really has. What started as a negotiation between two business behemoths has now seen lines drawn in the sand between traditionally published authors and indie-authors. A line that makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever!!!

On the one hand we have an open letter to Amazon[pdf] penned by Douglas Preston and signed by many, many notables in the field of publishing -authors, editors and more- and then we have the bizarre petition from Hugh Howey, Joe Konrath, and others that is basically shilling for Amazon. The letter from Preston et. al. is flawed in that it doesn't seem to grasp some of what is actually happening with regards Amazon/Hachette. For example, Amazon are not blocking nor delaying sales, they are merely not expediting them as they would otherwise. It's a negotiation tactic. The petition is weird as it spends an awful amount of time basically blowing Amazon a bunch of big kisses before sinking to its knees before the altar of Amazonian goodness.

The major weirdness, to me anyway, is the way that these lines are being drawn. Authors shouldn't be lining up with either Hacette or Amazon. They should be lining up together against Hachette and Amazon. Hachette exist to exploit the labour of authors(and everyone else they employ/work with) and Amazon exist to do exactly the same thing! Both companies have to extract the maximum profit from as little outlay as possible. This means that Hachette have to pay as little in advances/royalties/wages as they can whilst charging as much as they can and Amazon have to do the same thing. The only people to lose out here are those who are exploited by either side in this spat. Hachette/Big5 authors lose out when Hachette inflates ebook prices and engages in the kind of shenanigans that are par for the course with the Big5(price fixing and so on) and as Amazon's market dominance grows so authors using the Amazon platform for self publishing will lose out(we can say goodbye to 70% royalties when Amazon's dominance is secure).

The one thing that this reminds me of is the rivalry between the English cities of Liverpool and Manchester. The rivalry between the two cities, basically, stems from the building of the Manchester ship canal in the 19th Century. This allowed ships to sail right in to land locked Manchester thus taking employment away from the docks in Liverpool. Rather than turning the workers of Liverpool against the bosses who were laying them off and cutting their wages it turned them against the workers of Manchester.  The interests of the workers here being confused and conflated with the interests of their employers, their exploiters. A similar thing appears to be happening here with authors.

I need to be extremely clear here. There are no good corporations.* All corporations exist to exploit their workers and to extract profit from the labour of others. The interests of the corporations, either Amazon or the Big5, are not in line with the interests of their authors or other workers. The interests of the individual author may align on some matters but not all, and most certainly not the important matters. All authors want enough money to keep a roof over their head and to provide for them and theirs. All corporations seek to minimise the amount of money they can give to authors. Authors want their books read and corporations seek to make money from the fact that people want to read books.

Now, I want to publish books. I want people to read those books and, ideally, I want to make enough money from doing so to be able to kick this piece of shit job that I have to the kerb whilst pointing and laughing at it before then possibly urinating on its beaten, bruised and weeping wreck of a body. In order to realise this goal I plan on indie publishing short stories and novels. I also plan on submitting short fiction to magazines. I also plan on, eventually, submitting some longer form fiction to traditional publishers.  This means dealing with Amazon. It will also mean dealing with other venues for publishing like Smashwords and Payhip or any of the other multitude of options an indie writer has. It may, hopefully, also involve dealing with a publishing house. None of these companies will be my friends. I will not be on their side and they will not be on mine. I may meet lovely people who work for all these companies who may fight my corner from within but that doesn't mean that the corporate entity is interested in me as anything other than a revenue stream. (All this is wildly hypothetical and painfully hopeful!) My interests will be aligned with other authors, with artists, editors, readers. In other words with the rest of the working class on account of them/us being the people who fulfil all these roles. Not with those who seek to exploit the labour of others for their own gain.

This is why I find the latest developments in the Hachette/Amazon spat deeply weird. It's like seeing a bunch of weaklings lining up behind whichever bully has taken them under their wing.*

I dunno, if only there was some kind of fighting union for creative types...



 

*To the, inevitable, "Ah, but what about..." I simply have this to say: exceptio probat regulam in casibus non exceptis. :P

**And yes both companies are bullies. That's just the way business works.

“If the workers took a notion they could stop all speeding trains;
Every ship upon the ocean they can tie with mighty chains.
Every wheel in the creation, every mine and every mill;
Fleets and armies of the nation, will at their command stand still.”

~Joe Hill

The Rumours of my Disappearance

Have been greatly exaggerated. Not that there were any rumours but I do realise that it has been a couple of weeks since I last posted anything. I suppose that some may have assumed that I was merely hiding from the World Cup - alas, no. :( I have been working 7 days a week for the last couple of weeks and simply haven't had the time, or mental energy, to say anything here. I only have another 14 days to go however and then I have a week off. Yay! :/

Whilst I've not had the time or headspace to post here I've also had very little with which to write fiction either. I have, however, managed to start a new story. This one is a post-Lovecraftian apocalypse tale of what humans do to survive in the world after the stars are right once more. It's going to be a triptych - two shorter stories framing a larger narrative piece - set both in the post-apocalyptic 'real' world and also in the dreamlands. So far I'm feeling pretty good about it. Now if I only had more time to bloody well write it. #fuckcapitalism