Monday, 18 December 2017
More bits from Agora: Kay offers the Orc a chance to calm down before battle, in return for helping her find a missing ranger
“Not a good time, Paper,” said the Orc, as
large almost as the table itself. Shaved head glistened with sweat, fire making
him appear orange, eyes orange gems inside a cursed dark skull. The slightest
shift in weight caused the leather of his breeches to creak. I could smell him
everywhere, testosterone reeking higher even than burning logs or half empty
barrels of beer this table rested on. He sounded angry and irritable, as he
always did, but also tired and preoccupied, which was not quite as sexy. Trust
an Orc to think putting a talented warlord in a political role will benefit the
generation. Oh, my down-hill rolling avalanche of dumpsters on fire. My
hurricane of political shit, my sighing doomsday, who should never have been
trusted with t-- “That’s precisely why I’m here. I want you to take a vacation
with me.”
“You’re
joking.”
“Who
the heck would notice? I would have you back in a tenth of an hour, the same
time we would take pause to pork. You know time doesn’t move when we’re
properly through a midway. It’s a legit offer, got the banner starched and
everything.”
“I
am less than two days away from giving a marching order.”
“I’m
not asking you to elope. You think that if you step out of that impending temperament
for a month and return with brain aired and blood rested, it will somehow be a debauched
tactical move?”
“Nobody
can spend a month roaming with you of their blood rested. They’re sooner to hug
a rock on a water’s edge and throw the war to wolves altogether.”
“Nicest
thing you ever said to me.”
I
put the flat, palm-sized river stone, smooth and bland and grey, wholly
unremarkable, on the table, among other figurines. Only the hole drilled
through it to fit a thin lariat and the Zurnizip spiral carved on the top
marked it. No dye, no added heft. He sighed. The significance or history of
this stone may have been unknown to him, but he could tell at some point or
another Fidi held it in her hands and as bland insignificant things go, that’s
how they get you.
“I
made them blue for lawmen, green for healers and golden for thinkers.”
“And
the plain?”
“Only
two exist. The plain ones are for generals.”
“You’ve
got all the answers, don’t you, Paper.”
Sunday, 17 December 2017
Louis Armstrong on handkerchief
Day 2, still suffering from a cold; I fucking hate it when I am sick for more than one day. The sinus has let go, so I'm no longer blinking in bizarre colours with half my face dense and thick, but now the storm-drain phase has commenced: the eyes, nose and throat dripping (I'm not taking much of anything in the sense of medication, except for the acid reflux, because waking up every morning with angina having your acid boiled over is not what I signed up for.)
That said, waking up ... Can't sleep at all. Sleepy, for sure. But can't sleep. Can't focus on much of anything either. Tried writing sexy short story to pass time, as befitting midnight oil. Alas. Bored and tired. General brought me Marlenka cake, an Armenian honey pastry. If that won't bring me back to life, nothing can.
Saturday, 16 December 2017
This is such adorable shit! I love it!
I'm always nervous going in to watch super hyped up, famous movies I'm genuinely hoping will power me up. I went in to watch Dr. Strange or Wonder Woman hyped and assured it's great and it was depressingly bad - two good scenes and a cartoon for 13 year old boys the rest, with a snobbish, violent, tunnel-visioned lead on both occasions.
Never saw Rogue One for this exact reason. People say it's good, fine. I choose to keep myself in the dark on that one.
But this shit I LOVE. I LOVE it. Even after the first two minutes, when I'm thinking 'ugh, this is a little too slapstick forced comedy' for my taste, or after two hours, when the General is restless in his seat, bored and tired of it all and wants to go home... I'm all like: Holy fuck - have you ever seen anything as beautiful as that ship getting cut in two?!!
The nerd in me climaxes: They even turned that fucking sound off! Perfection ...
Spoilers, or not - I really thought those two idiots were siblings. There is so much un-erotic tension in these films, it's impossible to know until the very end, and we are not at the end yet, not for another two years - who ends up having kids with whom? I thought the two crazy kids are sibling; I still think Dameron and Finn are a gay couple, and everyone else is just good, fraternal-like friends in the middle of a storm. Some things underwhelm, for sure, but then you see Adam Driver without his shirt on or Luke Skywalker be Luke Skywalker and all is forgiven. That Driver boy has more acting ability in his chin than most people have in their entire faces.
Okay, I need to process all this and then watch it again once or twice. I think my favorite part is they didn't go all-crazy for costumes and wigs as they tend to, even though the private guard of the big evil old guy is neat. They went instead into making the salt planet look all Crimson Peak, and paid some rip-off damages to the makers of Battlestar Galactica.
I still think those two are siblings. No way they'll ever end up having angry sex.
LOL, the cold I got from dying my hair in front of an opened window in the middle of winter, has my sinuses (or just one?) so clogged up my head feels heavy and it's pressing on the nerves of my teeth and eye.. When I blink, I see all kinds of wrong colourful outlines. It would be awesome, if it wasn't so dizzying and hurtful :P
Friday, 15 December 2017
Thursday, 14 December 2017
Excerpt from 'Agora'.
What turns a leisurely stroll across a
countryside, a gentle pilgrimage on the strings of curiosity, a surveyors’ revel,
into a desperate battle for survival, a horror? The weather? Hunger? Surely not
this far out? Had they been a novice and entirely unable to survive in the
open, Tovelyn would’ve turned back after the second week. Now that I’ve
considered it, I wonder if my Orc has ever actually been on a hike; one at
least that wasn’t a youthful exercise or a military campaign or a scouting
mission or a marooned inconvenience – anything at all without bloated corpses
in it. I wondered what he’ll come supplied with. You can tell a lot about a man
by what he forgets to bring on a survivalist weekend. Some die for having
brought but a pen, a knife and pride, some under a mountain of dumb luggage.
Thunder
rumbled down with wind: I realized now why these dark thoughts kept tapping me
on the shoulder. It was going to be a little less fun getting caught in a
rainstorm here than it would have been in the world where I cot most
comfortable: the playful woods, each tree a probable shelter. One option was hope for
the storm to pass, pushing through it without pause. The other was being
pessimistic and assuming it will last much longer than one’s nimble feet. In a
terrain like this, in heavy rain, it is almost impossible to set up camp and
get some rest in it. I had no canvas for tent but my jacket and Araby will sog
and droop once it gets wet, embalming me like in a grave. The rain will drive a
novice crazy.
I
opted for camp. Two days till rendezvous. If I get enough rest and apply
another layer of vax to my shoes, I will be able to walk for the next two days
and the night in a downpour. Fail-proof strategy. Nothing to lead towards
pneumonia at all.
It’s
easier if it’s two people; easier at least to build with two long coats. I
didn’t have half that and there is no wood to speak of that low down. Making a
stand against the elements was problematic. I opted for a small natural basin,
a pit more like, which would have me, knowing full well chances were it
will serve the field as a drain and flood eventually. Best I could find of the
shrubs without thorns, I made for a mattress, generously padding my little
nest with rosemary and some kind of seablite, licking the back of my palm
first and rubbing broken bits of the leaves into my skin, just in case the
thing turned out to be poisonous. The few rocks I found, white and edgy, white
limestone overgrown with lichen, I lined onto the edge of Araby, which then I
pulled over, making a lid over the pretty shallow tomb.
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