There are drums in the novel that I will call my ‘first novel’, even though I wrote five or so novels before it.
The novel is set in the dark ages. There’s a character who is into music, big time. He’s a funky drummer:
A number of my friends and acquaintances are members of a band called The Magic Drum Orchestra (who have a cameo in the aforementioned novel). I love their vibe.
You know I love Samurai Champloo. Well if you didn’t, now you do. There is nothing that’s better, in my opinion. It cannot be topped. This is one of my favourites from their soundtrack.
I think I already linked to this crazy drummer dude from Ireland. I’ll link to him again.
I’m busy writing some sci fi stories for Darkmechanic aka Dan Morison. Apart from Kurt Vonnegut’s awesome sci fi, I’d not really read much in the genre. If you had to put me in a box, you’d shove me into a hippy box and I would've woven the box out of willow. I like growing organic vegetables, I spin wool and want to live in a wood and I think the Earth is A-OK. I invest in the Small is Beautiful idea. I wear second-hand dresses and funky tights. Science is not my religion.
But I’m enjoying writing sci fi stories probably more than I enjoy writing hippy stories. I think having a distance from something allows you to approach it from an interesting and un-pressured outsider angle.
This is a small bank of a few interesting sci fi things and also my favourite sci fi author talking about short stories:
Kurt Vonnegut gives some sound advice, which I can’t help but to ignore. Writing is too personal. There’s no rules. Much respect to Vonnegut though, and I agree with much of what he suggests.
I want to buy some Nujabes music, but can't find where sells it for a more reasonable price than £80. Anyone know where I can get hold of some?
I'm writing short sci fi space and robot stories. I read one out to the new writing group I attend. The writing group is predominantly attended by women 'of a certain age' (70+). I'm not sure they really caught the vibe.
The allotment is about twenty minutes away on foot, through field and woods. On my way back I stopped at Kite’s Nest hill and looked out over the Blackmore Vale. First I saw a muntjac, which I’d never seen before. Then I saw two cows madly chasing after a fox. Cows can run really, really fast.
There's a lot of rolling farmland and a few scattered houses, most of which ugly. I imagined what the land would have looked like with less human interaction. The human race is very arrogant. It made me think of a lyric in a Levellers song “Got to move these mountains because they’re standing in the way. It’s in the name of progress, son, we can make it pay.” We’ve lost our place in our world and we’re playing at God. What is all this “progress” for?
Here is the song.
Some other lyrics that strike a cord with me are:
Is this just some small price that we have learned to pay for your social insecurity,
They're trying to take my history away from me.
I feel that way often, that these politicians are trying to take away our history, to rip apart the story of my life and force me to conform to something totally separate from the land and my origins. There is another Levellers song that relates to this; Sell Out.
Do I belong to some ancient race? I like to walk in ancient places, These are things that I can understand. I don't believe in your modern way, Don't care about the things you say, Your policies have failed the test of time, 'Cause you sold them down the river.
I’ve been reading about John Lilburne. If you don’t know who he is, you really ought to. Maybe schools don't teach kids about him because he saw a problem with the government and democracy as it stood at the time and he violently stood against it. At the time the printing laws were very strict. Lilburne printed his views on freeborn rights and was imprisoned, flogged and nearly executed for it, several times. He and his fellow agitators would not be intimidated. They fought for what they believed in and they broke the law to do so. If he and his Agitators hadn't fought so hard for our rights then maybe it would still only be rich male landowners who could vote, we'd not have religious freedom nor freedom of speech.
A lot of stuff has changed since then. A lot of stuff has stayed the same. Interesting.
This is a freewritten short story called Elation versus Panic:
There she is, standing at the apex of the roof, looking down at the pavement, slick and wet below. The rain slaps around her, cold with a hint of almost-snow.
She closes her eyes and sees rainbows spiral out with jangling stars, shapes of hazy distinction and skidding glitchy sounds.
People below her gather and shout. She opens her eyes and looks down at them gesturing with panic. They think she is going to jump. She is not interested in jumping, only in looking and feeling. Sensation rushes like a beautiful buzz.
People are always asking what why who when?
She doesn’t care about these questions. All she cares for is the rush, the changing unfixed unmeaning sensation.
She likes their panic. She shares her rush with them. They interpret it with panic. Panic or elation; they are all sensation and they all put notches of experience onto our souls.
I was making bookmarks from old maps and books and music sheets found in a charity shop. I cut out random chunks of text from the book (a Sharpe book by Cornwell) and arranged them in no particular order. This was the result. I am yet to finish making the bookmark.
