is a blog by Brendan
Wait. Hold on. Comedy Central has a pseudo-cinema verité show about a radio program? A radio program where one of the hosts is relatively grounded and knowledgeable and the other is the wacky, grating narcissist? And then there’s a new guest every week and things go poorly? And the jokes depend heavily on bleeped cuss words? And nobody’s ever heard of it?
WHAT THE FUCK.
Carrie Fisher blogs, apparently, and the evidence suggests that she’s been doing a bit of back-and-forth with the Internet in her own defense. Basically, people think she doesn’t look like she did in 1983. I will allow you a moment of shock.
On my west’ard migration a year and a half ago, while I was bumming around San Francisco on my own, someone–Sumana?–suggested that I take a night and go see a play. By happy coincidence, I was in town at the same time as Fisher, who was doing her show Wishful Drinking at the Berkeley Rep. So I got a ticket and went.
I learned a great deal about Fisher that evening (I hadn’t even known she was married to Paul Simon), and in the process saw probably the only good one-person show ever. I also laughed a lot. How can you avoid laughing at the image of Cary Grant calling up a teenage girl, at her parent’s slightly deranged request, to lecture her soberly about the dangers of LSD–twice? Or at a still from the bridge of the Death Star about which she noted that “I weighed about ninety pounds here, eighty of which I carried in my face?”
It’s one thing to know somebody is a writer; it’s another to see her perform in a self-written multimedia showcase that includes jokes about her own electroshock therapy. I liked Carrie Fisher before then, almost as much for her guest spot on 30 Rock as for Star Wars (and that was all before I knew she tried out for Han Solo). After that show, like became admiration, and she was elevated to the selective ranks of people who have secured my loyalty pretty much for good. Even if her blog posts are littered with unnecessary punctuation.
(In case you’ve noticed that I started dating a short girl with a screenwriting degree, a taste for wine and a sardonic sense of humor within months of moving to Portland: shhh.)
It’s not as if I think the people reading my blog are among those going “oh no how did princess lea get fat :(.” But I feel the need to state this anyway: Carrie Fisher rolls with my crew. And before you write a word against her, consider the fact that fuck you forever, and die in a hole.
Shitcock.
I am unforgivably late in posting this, but Kevan sent along a photo of a one of those “morphing” lenticular Halloween images in which, as he points out, life imitates Anacrusis. (He asked whether it was a common image in the US or just a ludicrous coincidence; it’s been a few years, but I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.)
In other Battersea wonderment, I can’t tell you the secret reason why she discovered this, but Holly has alerted me that the Pharaoh of Exodus might have been (but probably wasn’t) named Dudimose.
Dudimose.
His son was named Dudimose II.
Thank you! That’s enough. You can go home now. You are, at last, demonstrably irrelevant.
Matt twittered this thing called the ToneMatrix by André Michelle, which is a nifty Flash piece that combines a musical sequencer with visual effects. It was interesting to play with because I started by making what I thought would be interesting musical patterns, and they did in fact sound pretty and interesting, and then I realized that you can pretty much just scribble any old thing on there and it still sounds good because it’s all keyed together. It’s the harmonica of Flash music sequencers.
But! That same fact means that you can have some faith that, if you copy any arbitrary simple black-and-white pattern onto it, it won’t sound awful. I’ve been thinking about pixel art for a secret project anyway, so I started drawing some 8-bit sprites onto it. You can highlight and copy one of the strings of numbers below, then go to the ToneMatrix page, right-click on it and hit paste see it yourself.
I think the fire flower is the prettiest!
If it weren’t so dry and poorly punctuated, I would honestly believe that John T. Jones’s Writing 101: Research that Novel was a Story Hacks-like joke. As it is, you can learn more about how not to write from it than all the Story Hacks combined. From a former professor and editor! With a PhD!
“Don’t call your Viking raider, Joe.
Try Eric the Mad or some such.”
I already know what you’re thinking: a book about Joe the Viking raider is immediately more interesting than one about Eric the Mad. But that’s his advice on research? To make up a thing that sounds like what you read once in The Far Side, “or some such?”
“If you met a man in Walgreen wearing a silver body-tight jumpsuit and having antenna sticking out of a gold helmet, you would think: That guy isn’t from here!“
Clearly Dr. Jones and I shop at different Walgreens! Yuk yuk! Also, what the hell does that have to do with writing?
“Each character needs characteristics. You may never mention most of them but you must know them. These are the things that in combination make your character distinct from all other characters in the world. Take Superman for instance or Henry the Eighth.”
That’s such a beautiful non sequitur (and no, I’m not editing out his explanation; that’s the whole paragraph) that I’m tempted to revise my stance on whether this whole thing is pure deadpan humor. I’m also tempted to submit it to the Lyttle Lyttons.
“It’s a good idea to know your subject, your location (setting), and your characters before you start writing the novel. Well, don’t let that stop you. You can fill in the blanks later.”
What. What. That paragraph actually needs clarification to just to reach the level of “meaningless platitude.”
“Just don’t let some bold character take over your book.”
God forbid! You are right, John T. Jones, PhD. After all, when you were writing Revenge on the Mogollon Rim (which seems to be a western and not, in fact, a cent-per-word story from a 1952 issue of Astounding), I’m willing to bet you didn’t let bold characters get in the way. You kept yourself focused on what really matters: absolute verisimilitude with regard to the Mogollon Rim.
This has been Brendan Is Mean About Something on the Internet! I now return to my usual activity of whimpering and typing “how the fuck do I research anything” into Google.
Wow. Wow. The guy who founded WebTV (you remember WebTV, right? Your grandmother failed to use the Internet on it) and the guy who got fired from Eidos (you remember Eidos from 2000-2005, right? You didn’t buy any of their Tomb Raider sequels) have decided to revolutionize the video gaming industry! They’re going to let you play hideously compressed PC games from 2007 without a keyboard or a mouse on a computer with no disc drive, hard drive or video card! Guess who sat around a lot of hotel rooms staring blankly at the N64 controller on the set-top box? (I bet you already guessed!)
To their credit, they have been able to startle some wide-eyed journalists by showing them closed tests on a cloud system with nobody on it, from which they disallowed screen caps or video. That puts them one step ahead of Infinium Labs. You remember Infinium, right? They failed to make the stupid fucking Phantom.
Somyr Perry, whom we know from the following clause has fantastic taste in writing, discovered Ommatidia and made a meme out of it on her blogging community, Open Salon, which as far as I can tell is Livejournal for real journalists. Most of the posts are getting tagged or collected (except the ones that aren’t), and some of them are really excellent, that last in particular. You are awesome, Open Saloners! Now buy my book.
