Tag: Announcements (N)

New. Oh so new.

I’m alive

I’m trying to write a review of the second (and likely last) season of ‘Hex.’ The show isn’t the slow-motion, sometimes well filmed train wreck that the first season was. I should also probably post some updated thoughts on the latest ‘Who’ (mostly good) and the most interesting piece of fanfic I’ve ever seen, the pornographic (but only slightly) ‘Abducted by the Daleks’ sex tape that made the news last year. Then there’s ‘BSG’ and ‘Lost,’ both of which came to a close and did interesting things with their finales. The whole relocation back to Auckland thing is taking its toll, however, and the setting up of non-blog things here has become just another excuse for not updating.

Ah, bloggers; apathetic and protesting with it.

Soon to be straight-to-DVD cliches I

There is a serial killer prowling the streets of New York, killing seemingly unconnected people. A rookie cop is teamed up with a grizzled old hand on his last case. He thinks the killer is a sicko but the rookie finds something suspicious about the victims. Following a hunch she discovers that the serial killer is preying on fellow serial killers. Trailing a potential victim she is killed by the man she is ostensibly protecting. The villain of the piece then kills him as the old hand arrives on the scene. The serial killer pleads for his life, saying that he is only doing good. The film ends with the cop holding a gun to the head of the serial killer whilst backup arrives. As the credits scroll a single gunshot is heard.

Forthcoming Zombies

Well, the news is in and the news is good; ‘Final Call,’ one of those two zombie stories I mentioned a while back, has been accepted for publication in issue one of Revenant.

The story owes just a little to ‘Shaun of the Dead’ and the entire Romero opus, but it stands on its own in its special little way.

Plus, you can never have too many stories about the ill effects of drinking now, can you?

I’ll take that as a ‘No.’

Sloughing of the Skin

Today I recieved my copies of ‘Black Petals’ number 50, the very issue in which my story, ‘Sloughing of the Skin’ has seen print.

‘Black Petals’, a glossy covered A4 horror ‘zine located in the USA kindly took ‘Sloughing of the Skin’ off of me for a six month period for all of you, the public, to read and enjoy.

The story features a piece of art that shows that the artist, Billy Tackett had read the story before committing pencil to paper (always a good thing). I had no idea what the associated image was going to be for ‘Sloughing of the Skin’ and this piece is far more appropiate to the story than I had hoped for (and had been believed possible, from comments elsewhere about art in ‘zines). It captures the essence of narrative and probably does (I say probably because I know the story far too well to be able to comment properly) hook the reader in.

It is also oddly appropiate because ‘Sloughing of the Skin’ is a story about art and the effect it has on the both artist and the artwork.

Whilst I would hardly call it my favourite story it does have some nice touches that I am proud of. It didn’t end the way that I thought it would, and the original version had a subplot involving a next door neighbour who visits twice, both creating some interesting questions about the phenomena.

(In an ideal world you would all be singing the ‘Mamamnah’ song right now….)

However, the subplot added little compared to the amount of words it took up, and the ending the narrative forced upon me made more sense than whatever it was I had hoped for.

One down, countless more to go.

It’s like the Old combined with the New: I call it ‘Nold!’

Two things.

One is that I have moved hosts; hopefully this will be completely and utterly transparent so there will be no issues and that by the time you read this everything will be functional and delightful.

The other is personal. I do not usually write about personal things here; in truth I am not fond of blogs which consist of existential angst and what I did last weekend. However (there is always a ‘…but’ in any statement of that form) I do want to say something about coffee.

Up to the first third of last year I drank coffee about once every quarter. However, halfway through last year, for various reasons I probably won’t get specific about, I upped the ante and drank around four cups of the boiled mud per day.

Going from spasmodic to a four-cup regular is a huge leap. I do not enjoy coffee; I call it boiled mud for a reason. It does, however, seem (I am aware of studies that dispute the actual power of coffee) to play a role in vitalising me (a role, methinks, better suiter to a finer cut of powder… like cocaine…) and I took up coffee because I was not happy living in the flat I was currently in and so needed something to keep me working throughout the day and well into the night. Coffee was the stimulant (a decision helped out by the fact that it was freely available where I work).

The reason I mention this is that becoming a coffee-user (as opposed to a coffee drinker) ruined my work habits. I worked long days and slept most mornings. I did too much work, in that I would focus on one task, complete it to a standard and then move on, unaware that some (admittedly only a few in my case) of these tasks benefit from taking eight to twelve hour breaks.

I’ve stopped drinking coffee regularly now. To stop myself from going back to it I’ve restructured my working day so that I go in to work much earlier and I get home at a reasonable time. I am reclaiming my evenings as my non-work spaces so I can get back to doing those things that make me happier. This will mean more writing (I have been working on ‘Lord Morrisey Morrisey’ plays for a while now but little else) and hopefully more socialising.

Well, that was oddly serious and personal.

Ta ra.