Posts Tagged excuses

Little Things That Don’t Necessarily Count, But Still Involve Numbers.

The problem with relaxing rules is that they keep on relaxing all by themselves. In an attempt to make up for missing a few weeks, here are some small things I’ve done. Firstly, a big thing which I played a small part in: the video for Gödz Pöödlz‘ song ‘345-5316008’, also known as ‘She Boogies’. The song was written in response to a Masters of Song Fu challenge to write a song about a number, which is why every word of it can be displayed on an old upside-down calculator. For the video, they asked for photos of calculators showing the words, and girls dancing with calculators. I submitted an ‘eligible’ calculator picture, and some dancing with the closest things I could find to calculators. I don’t usually dance, if I can help it, but I thought it’d be a good excuse to wear my Klein Four T-shirt, and I wouldn’t have to show the video to anyone I knew. But they edited it to make my boogying less embarrassing, and the rest of the video is great, so here it is:

Another small video thing I’ve made is episode two of Adventures of Mr. Super-Elephant and Friends, in which Arch-Enemy continues his conversation with Mr. Super-Elephant by inviting her out. I started this series on December 14 with a silly improvised three-line scene to try out xtranormal, and decided I may as well continue in this fashion, since it only takes a few minutes. Don’t expect it to make sense, or be good.

And one final small thing which I’m only adding to make these add up to something less small, is some kind of weird poem-like thing I wrote in a few minutes one day. The first line was something I actually thought would be cool to do, but then it unexpectedly turned grim. But compared with the Adventures of Mr. Super-Elephant and Friends, it makes sense:

I will get married in the snow, wearing white, and noone will see me do it.
We will consummate it at midnight under the new moon, and noone will know.
I will caress your skin, frozen numb, and you will not feel it.
I will give birth to a cold white baby, and it will not be aware.
Then unfeeling, unfelt, unseen, I will go.

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It’s only Sunday evening in your imagination (and in my time zone)

I had a full day of meetings at work today, so I doubt I’ll have a Thing published by midnight. Jonathan Coulton had a whole week without a day job to finish each of his Things, and I at least need a whole weekend to do mine. So I’ll probably publish it if and when I take some time off in lieu of today, or when it’s finished, whichever comes first.

‘Publish what?’ you don’t ask because you’re too busy reading this sentence. ‘You’ve already published a Thing for each of the 52 cards plus a joker! Go play, and eat cake, and celebrate, and sleep!’ your thoughts, fed by this blog post, continue. Well, I did say I’d publish another ace of diamonds, an original piece rather than a recording of an old one. And it wasn’t a lie. I’ve written 1276 words of it already. I might even finish it tonight, but I don’t feel obliged to, because I didn’t have a proper weekend, and, as you so rightly pointed out, I’ve already published more than 52 Things on-time and under-budget.

And after that second, bonus Thing, I will write another, for the second joker. And this is where you can participate. If you follow me on Twitter, you can send me one sentence by direct message, which will have some influence on the Joker. If you already follow me on Twitter and you don’t send me a sentence, one will be taken from you by force. You have been warned.


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Not the End of the Word

My laptop seems to have died this morning, so it’s very unlikely that I’ll post anything by midnight Sunday. I think my eMate still works, so I’ll type something up on that (for a writer, I don’t much like writing) but it can’t connect to the internet. I believe I still have the dongle and the software necessary to connect it to a modern Mac, but even with that I don’t think I can transfer notes from it, so everything will eventually have to be retyped, just as if I’d handwritten it the old-fashioned way on my Newton MessagePad (or paper, I suppose.) Still, typing something twice is easier than handwriting it and then typing it. If it were a poem, I’d have no problem with handwriting it, but I promised somebody I’d write a story this week. You know who you are. It’s all your fault.

I do not feel inclined to sit at work or in an internet café late on Sunday night when there will no buses to get me home, so you’re just going to have to trust me that I finished it on time, or trust that I didn’t twiddle the date stamps when taking a photo of the completed work just before midnight. Or you could just give me a break, I’m in mourning for a Mac here.

Right… now to come up with a plot.

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