Day 94: Flowers Along the Drenfennelen

Kraite stroked the ridge of fur back from the corner of his mouth and twisted the thin braid at the end.  He disliked the style, but the braids appealed to Mallen.  Repeating the action made him feel thoughtful.

He was not thoughtful.  At least not anymore.

The bush in Qwain, especially here at the headwaters of the Drenfennelen river, smelled clean even a bit spicy.  The warming morning air brought with it the earth aroma…

Lots of thoughts on this.  Too many to put together into a thread of words at this point.  He’s sitting atop an aqueduct ruin and gay.  More later.

Made another theme change.  It needs a better header photo, but I like the simplicity and the extra column. Will have to tweak or dump the tagcloud. Snuck a bit of AdSense in there too.  Enjoy.

Word count: 136

Day 89: Five Times with Water

The dip and the stoke of the paddle in the clear mountain lake hypnotized me.  Gravel, rocks, and boulders glided beneath me.  Their refracted positions making them look magnified.  I hardly noticed as the level surface before me bent sinuously into a hole of falling water.


Plap, plap, plap, plap.  Wake waves splashed out a brief beat at the corner of the fishing dock.


We’d been talking.  I’d just said, "I’m not sure I understand anymore.  I’m not even sure I want to try to understand."  It didn’t seem like a great thing to say.  I know I wouldn’t want to hear it, but it was the truth.  The effort to understand her moods, her thoughts, and her feelings exceeded what I was willing to invest.  I thought she was going to reply.

In the past she might have said, "What the hell?" or "Brian, please think of this from my perspective." or even "You always were a lazy prick."  Instead she stared at her drink.

Water condensed on the cold glass.  A fog of humidity grew to a field of speckles.  Those coalesced into droplets.  The droplets cohered into light refracting beads that further obscured the whiskey tainted light–yes, she drank whiskey.  The combined mass of water was too much for one drop.  It ran down the glass and escaped.

"You know, you’re right."


The forgotten spill soaked into his sock from the carpet.  Instantly he clenched his teeth and raged inside.


Fr. Tom could still feel the coolness in the handle.  The metal had not fully warmed to his hand.  Any other time of the year.  Any other Mass and he’d feel solitary.  He never felt alone, that was not possible, but he never felt with his Prisoners.  When they renewed their Baptismal vows and he anointed them with three shakes of holy water from the aspergillum it shouldn’t have made him feel more connected, but it did.  Splashing near strangers in the chest and the eyes and the hair with water separates people.


At first I thought I could pull out ten of those, but five felt good for a first run of this exercise.

Word count: 350

Day 74: One Good Paragraph

I’ve been struggling with an offline way to write these posts. I am not satisfied with the for offline blogging tools like Qumana, LiveWriter, or ecto. I can’t exactly define why not. Mostly they feel barely a step above the built-in tool so why bother. I’ve practiced with Google Docs, but it didn’t seem to translate the title properly–or I messed it up.

On top of all that, I use multiple input computers so even if I could settle on a single offline tool I’d have to install it on all three comps and then I would have my posts all over the place still. I suspect I’ll have to look at the WP export output to see what it looks like. I don’t want to risk losing all this effort. For now the offline tool that gets the most use is DarkRoom. It can be a bit flakey considering its nothing more than a textpad clone with cool-factor. No offense.

I am going back through my “Blog This” posts from Flickr. I started to get concerned that I wasn’t fully understanding the contradictory “Blog This” and “All Rights Reserved” tags on some pictures I was seeing. When I see the ARR tag without the BT button I only link back. But when the BT button had not been disabled I assumed that was a choice made by the photographer. Turns out it’s not; they have to explicitly toggle both separately. I am going back and requesting permission where needed.

Pictures every once in a while will spice up the textual overload of this blog, but I am not able to get all the pictures I need for inspiration by myself. I am working on some subtle art for the background and I may punch up a few gentle colors in the right places. As easy as it’s supposed to be, I find the whole CSS thing to be difficult to navigate. Not difficult to figure out–well, not entirely–but difficult to navigate someone else’s stuff. I know there are tools out there, but I haven’t had the time or volume to learn how to use those to make it easier on me.

I did get the tags to display at the bottom of each post here. Now I just need to get back to getting back to updating those first forty posts with the proper tags or that big REGULAR over on the sidebar is going to be more and more out of place. I’ve given some consideration to dumping that tag altogether but haven’t gotten around to fully thinking that over.

Need a short paragraph to break up the medium sized run I got going here. This ought to do.

Speaking of paragraphs, I believe I need to better consider how I am breaking up that level of thought in my writing. For now I am getting away with simple chunking of thoughts. I need to better compose at the paragraph level. Lead with a good sentence support with the following ones. That’s a great new feature. Along with whatever creative inspiration hits me, I will include a succinct paragraph that very closely conforms to the prescribed paradigm. Let’s try one now…

The cat down climbed the tree. The great big tabby hung like it had been thrown there and stuck. The orange splatter of legs and arms and tail pointed nervously back to the pained face. The cat seemed to be pausing to ask itself why it had done this again. It continued to scrabble down the high trunk of the pine below the lowest limb, half backward and half sideways. It slipped another body length, turned inexpertly, and plummeted to the ground within a shower of bark. As best it could it landed well and recovered its dignity.

Word count: 625

Day 62: Today I Invent the Word Xenolithically

…and then use it in a non-metamorphic rock sort of way.

Tomorrow we are prepping the garage for the ninth annual pumpkin carving party. If I can eek out the time, I am going to get the tablet hooked up to the computer and start learning to draw.

But that’s tomorrow.

Regarding Bringer, the societal thing eludes me. Birth doesn’t seem doable for a tinker. Neither does physical growth and maturity. There won’t be any restaurants or bars since there won’t be anyone drinking or eating. I’ve flat out decided that fabricating the desire for food is a cop out. But tinkers need to have society. They need a drive to be with each other together and each other apart. That line doesn’t have to make sense to you.

However, I do want them to have familiar activities. Not that I worry about my ability to write tinkers so xenolithically that I need to artificially make the more familiar–I’ll be fine on that score I am sure. What I want to do is find several familiar things that are not dietary that can mimic the non-nutritional values of gathering to eat. Then tweak or taint them just a bit.

jerry chart 62

Day 44: Movable Type Moves On

Not feeling all that creative today.  Lots of work this week and today.  Up at 3AM.  Finished work around 7PM.

I did get the MT blog torn down and replaced with this Word Press one.  I don’t know what happened with MT.  I am a bit disappointed because I was enjoying the mature interface.  While the advance management path was unnecessarily circuitous the common areas were precise.  I enjoyed the look.  Someone took the time to consider the aesthetic.

WordPress is fine.  I navigate quickly to everything I need, but the interface leans toward utility and away from delight.  But it works, doesn’t spontaneously bork.

I think I’ll end it there.  No point in dragging this out when there is perfectly good sleeping to be done.