Eccentric Flower:199906/Catching up an URL at a time

Well, it's taken me a lot more of the night than I thought it would - of course, I did stop to watch Jabberwocky - but I finally have caught up on reading my Nibelung ring, after nearly a week's absence.

This entry is therefore composed of random thoughts that occurred to me as I was reading, and links and such. If you want a real entry - that is, one with a series of connected thoughts which proceeds, if sporadically, to a conclusion - I posted three others earlier today which may or may not fill the bill.

Oh, but before I start tossing the Intermezzos around, a word about Jabberwocky: Not bad. It was well made, and filmed exceedingly convincingly given that it had both a medieval setting and an almost-nonexistent budget. Videohound says it's "uneven, but some parts are really funny," and that's about right. None of it dragged, and there were at least three times where I laughed so hard my drink almost came out my nose.

And now, off to the races. Shall we have a prayer to the patron saint of the internet before we start? Nonelvis told me about this yesterday, but couldn't remember the name of the saint (hey, she's Jewish, cut her some slack). However, of course dear Aussie knew: Saint Isidore. Ask Aussie nicely and she'll show you the shrine she made.

There's been a lot of discussion about writer's block on journal-l - mainly, how to avoid it and what to do when you get it. I am happy to report I don't get writer's block - not that I know of. The problem is generally in getting my posterior into the chair to write, not what I want to write about. If I can't proceed on one thing, I work on something else. The sole advantage of always having too many irons in the fire.

I am feeling a little guilty about writing, since Karen is currently agonizing her heart out at Clarion and Mary Anne is apparently submitting stories to every periodical in sight. Nonetheless, the guilt is something I can live with; in fact, I cherish it as a motivational tool.

What I can't live with is the sensation I got tonight - the pang of "Oh, well, that's torn it; fifty thousand words down the toilet in one go." Yes. I got that tonight. A sharp dagger in the ribs. Objectively, I know better than to toss Aedie and his Sethin companions out the window, but, damn it, one of my worst fears has come true:

Someone else has already written my book. In fact, given the hints dropped, someone may have already written my book to a further extent than I imagined; they may not just have used my idea, but stolen one of my twists as well.

I'm very paranoid. I don't tell you titles or any of the plot details. It's because I'm afraid someone's going to stumble on my idea and filet it while I'm sitting here in my charnel house, slowly making a mess of the carcase. And all this secrecy is to no avail.

It doesn't matter if they did it better or worse than I do it. Publishers won't buy an idea if someone else came along with the same idea too recently. And, more's pity, neither will some readers. We don't all enjoy collecting as many variations on the same tale as we can.

Damn it, this hurts. It hurts so much that I'm afraid I can't bring myself to tell you which escribitionist wrote about this Other Book or where you can find it. If I did that, after all, you might go out and actually purchase this book.

Speaking of "escribitionist" (and there's a non-deft segue), Toni (who's linked below) attributed that term to me a few days ago. But, alas, I didn't coin it. I wouldn't have remembered who did, but fortunately Shmuel made a note of the Historic Occasion.

The twenty-third and twenty-fourth were apparently an apex for amusing journal entries. That same entry of Shmuel's provides a mordant insight into the recent "Austin Powers doll" fuss. Pamie has this absolutely hilarious item about her shared hallucinations with Billy Blanks - what is it with you people and Tae-Bo? And Diane has an interesting story about the uses of modern technology.

I can top that one, Diane:

Nonelvis eventually bought a cell phone for the house out of self-defense, because when I'm at home I am generally tying up the phone with the computer. (We don't have a fancy telecommunications setup like y'all.)

One year, pre-cell-phone, Nonelvis was at the Institvte's Mystery Hunt - a multi-day puzzle-solving activity involving long hours and late nights - and wanted to call me to tell me when to come pick her up. Of course the phone was busy. She made a few correct guesses - first, that I was probably on a MUCK (which I was a lot at the time); second, that it was probably my favorite MUCK; third, that there'd be a place she could look up its address.

She got on one of the many Institvte computers, found the address, logged onto the MUCK as a guest, paged me, and told me to get my rear offline so she could call me.

The punchline: That MUCK is based in Sweden. So Nonelvis had to go to Sweden to contact me. Our actual physical locations at the time were less than five miles apart.

Rodney's quote in the right-hand column, and the 20 June entry it goes with, was actually one I read before my hiatus. But I saw it again on my pass-through tonight, and it reminded me of an unpleasant fact: Sainsbury's is the parent of the American chain Shaw's, which has decided to purchase rather than compete, as so many companies do these days - the flaw in the old Invisible Hand Theory. They've just gotten the go-ahead to complete the purchase of Star Market, the area chain where I shop.

Now, I'm not really sad that the Star Markets will become Shaw's stores - I'm told that Shaw's is actually an exemplary chain, with top marks in customer service. But Shaw's tends to emphasize house brands ... and that may well mean that The One True Brand Of Chocolate Chip Cookie - my main vice next to coffee - will vanish!

No, really, this is serious business. I have gotten to the point where I can't enjoy any other brands. When I can't get them for some reason, I have to make my own - which I don't always have the energy to do. And I go through a bag of these cookies about once every three days. A third of a bag is 8-10 cookies, which is what I have before bed every night.

This could very well alter my whole life!

Not all of the journal entries which set off my irrelevant commentary are funny. I read two today which were frightening - and, in their own way, absolutely riveting.

Toni's entry from the 26th on what happened to her son was amazing. I don't mean that in a sensationalist sense; nor, necessarily, a good one. Part of my reaction was reading it and knowing that Toni had experienced the kind of event that was etching itself indelibly into her brain as it happened; the other part was that it happened - I didn't realize, I guess, that things like that actually happened to real people in real situations.

And here's Al from last night, talking about the depths to which people can sink - and how there are some things which even Al, one of the most forgiving people I've ever encountered, can neither countenance nor forgive.

I'm not disagreeing with him, mind you. If there's a Hell, there's a special place for these people in it.

I'm not sure I believe in Hell as such, though. I believe we make our own hells, in the manner of the play No Exit - Hell is a self-service establishment.

But I'm also partial to the King of Dreams as postulated by Robert Silverberg ... he sends visions of torment to those who have done wrong things, in essence acting as an external conscience.

You see, I can't quite decide whether repentance is better served from without or within. But in the case of these folks, I'm with Al: Send the Furies.

That's not a very upbeat way to end an entry, so perhaps you'd be interested to know the truth about Jar Jar Binks?

Or is that still too close to the Hell theme? (You'll understand when you see the site.)

I suppose it's not germane at all to add that the hard drives on my PC are named Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone. No, really. They have been for the longest time. Believe it or not, it's because I have three of them and it's one of the first classical "threesomes" I bring to mind. Really.

I always name hard drives after literary characters. If anyone can guess what the one on the Mac is named, I'll donate a cookie. From the stockpile I'll probably have to begin accumulating soon, no doubt.

Here's a hint: It's from Shakespeare.

Whenever I enter Sainsbury's, especially the big superstore nearby, I go into this shopping trance. I go in for a loaf of bread and come out with four bags of shopping, a liberal conscience, and someone else's grandmother.

- Rodney Breen