Drafts Bin Rescues – Part B

Holy Hannah!! Sometimes I uncover things I (apparently) did in a protracted moment of creative(?) semi-sanity, though can no longer understand entirely why – or where I had then thought I might be going, from there.

These below are some of those.

Comments from this timeline inserted in some other italicized text colour, for context…

As far as I can tell, this section is a bunch of nonsense; I think I was trying to over-write fiction using someone else’s voice and mindset. It’s fairly possible I was still smoking weed when I wrote it. I have since stopped (you’re welcome). I have lightly-edited it where it (now) made (some) sense to do so:

The Magic CoffeePot [I guess this is the title to whatever was being written next]
What key is it in today, Mariald? This is what I’d say to her or him each morning I came myself into the tavern at Therald’dor’s Privied-Ivied-Inn-on-the-Upper-Downe, in the smaller town of Gahnnath-on-the-Skye (my youngest elder’s town), wherein’ingly I proceeded to mostly grow up, quite soon after being just borne, in quite that way – the way in which I had been, just so.

And I hadn’t thought at all before to solloquery [no idea] of Therald’dor’s great and ironed Outer Doors –

Almost-est, and as-ever as before, I stood myself ‘pon this: the that-of-yours
which carved from these, our barren shores.

I took no note – from pen or throat – without to wonder whether should I;
to touch a sky within your Eye, my Good God-Godess God the Great,

I seem to have stopped right here, tripping over God, quite clearly over my head (and somewhat outside of my mind). It was a poem-story I didn’t complete, clearly. I like some of it. It feels fun (although all the wordplay is a bit awkwardly tortured, like many things I write with “wordplay” in them) and I want to draw silly things to go along with it, and then maybe get myself into the headspace to wrap it up properly (whatever the definition of that might be). This may be fodder for my Other Blog – the fiction one.

You bring me Down, Written by Jeff Lynne

FALSE, Past Mike! He wrote Don’t Bring Me Down. (Sorry, Jeff Lynne).

What follows are some TODOs. I’ll comment on whether I eventually TODID them:

TODO: Post design and planning docs; installers; assign tasks; [Maybe done, hard to recall. I’m still finding myself doing all of these things and more, to some effect]

TODO: consolidate docs and access PPTP [Nope]

TODO: incorporate PTTP [Nope]

Private Tip model: analytics based [What?]

[REDACTED] : Quite More Than a Just a Game [Yes and Nope]

TODO: tool protocols, year-end deliverables: spec quarter-end, month-end, and week-end modles. [What’s a modle? Mostly Nope]

Create dev environment on Digital Ocean – requirements include ability to co-deploy [Not really, I logged in a few times. Also, this one lacked the TODO prefix. This made little difference in it eventually getting TODONE (it TODIDN’T)]

The remainder of this draft … whatever it was supposed to be …. is largely un-categorizable:

NoName, center frame, in primary captain pod B

ABOVE: I was setting a scene, for something. I had all these immediate hopes and dreams of writing a scene. Maybe for an animated short, or something. Storyboards would follow – that was my Plan.

When I was in my twenties, I went to college to learn to become an animator. I took drawing lessons, saw my first naked person as an adult in Life-drawing class (late bloomer, don’t judge me), and learned about perspective and vanishing points and drawing the Tick from at least 16 different angles (somewhat badly). I also bit off more than I could chew on more occasions than I can now recall, or could then count. I liked dreaming big, and then coming in low on the delivery. I got all the fun that way and as little of the hard work as I could get away with. My marks and career in animation were about what you’d expect.

Mostly, I learned to start and then not finish things. I even didn’t-finish the college course, that’s how dedicated I was to my craft (and still am, by all accounts, according to this very unfinished set of things).

What was “primary captain pod B”? Presumably, there were at least 2 [there were 3, I remember] “Primary Captains”, each with their own pod. NoName was in the middle one – which he appreciated, but it was (reasonably) labeled “B”, which he did not (label, or appreciate). This part about the labeling of the Primary Captain Pods was all Interesting Backstory For Another Time…. the scene was about.. something happening on the spaceship for which NoName was Acting Primary Captain B, and I’m quite sure that the scene was exciting in my mind at the time… but not quite as exciting as the very next tidbit that took hold of my attention by its throat, wresting me away from the story almost before it had begun:

Gamify selling stuff for People with Stuff for ReHoming

I think this was some idea about addressing the not-funny issue of homelessness, using games or gamification, somehow. A worthy aim – too bad I didn’t pursue it even to the point of including a period at the end of the sentence (or better yet, any explanation about how that project would work)…

Functionally Creative solutions for common problems

Maybe I was trying to brand something. I apparently ran out of capital letters half way through the title. Maybe they’re expensive, I don’t remember.

It’s a bit too two-big-guy-big, as boats go.

I like this. It’s hard to say though, like a bad tongue-twister. I don’t think I can confidently claim to have come up with this in its entirety, any more than I can claim to have come up with anything, confidently.

My friend Kim is like a muse that I often don’t recognize, but really, really should. She says the funniest things sometimes. They often spark an idea or a line of dialogue or something else. She may or may not have said the boat (whatever boat she was talking about, for whatever reason) was too “two-big-guy-big”, but I think she did say something like that, for some reason.

That’s what my memory has now decided anyway. I don’t recall what we were talking about, or how boats fit into it, but I imagine I laughed at how she measured the boat in terms of how many big guys could comfortably fit in it, and then stopped fully listening to her, long enough to write it down.

If I am being honest (and why shouldn’t I be), between you, me, and the lamp-post, any proceeds I might ever somehow make from anything I write should go at-least-half to Kim. I have no idea where her spirit ends and my creativity attempts to continue on.

This is the power of muses and friendships in our lives, people. Never forget your many mighty muses, whoever you may be!

“I think that old guy is that other old guy’s dad”, said the younger one among the younger two in class.

Also something my mind now wants to partially attribute to Kim. No idea. She was in the room for all of this. I was rudely on my laptop, while she was no doubt rudely on hers – each of us doing our own thing, together, somewhat rudely. The point of the line above is that to a young-enough person, if you’re old enough, you just plain look old; old-age gets highly quantized. I remember being that young, and seeing that way, once.

[As an aside, I’m having a lot of fun “finishing” something I once thought I’d finish and then went on to thinking I wouldn’t. I guess I like to keep myself guessing]

Who’s got the town ladder?

Excellent question! I love this on more than one level. This is me pining for a future when we will live more efficiently as community members – having exactly one perfectly good ladder per community, for our mutual enjoyment and use.

Why does every neighbour need a ladder of their own, and then a tall fence to hide or protect it from their other neighbours (except the other ones with ladders, I suppose)?

One of my neighbours just the other day stole the snow from my driveway with his snowblower, without even asking. Flung it all over the place. The kindly cad. How dare he, without sticking around long enough for me to shake his hand (at a safe distance)? I have half a mind to find him and do something unwarranted and thoughtful right back in his big, neighbourly face.

If I had the town ladder, you could use it whenever you needed it. Unless I happened to be on it at exactly that moment (but that’s only fair). That’s the kind of neighbours you and I would be, in this future of ours.

Ah! The next three paragraphs are an elaboration on the plot we barely started above, when we introduced Primary Captain B NoName! Nice, Past Mike – you kicked the can slightly further down the road, even pulling yourself back from that wandering-mind thing through branding, boats, ageism, and shared community resources. Have a small cookie.

Let’s see what the story was supposed to be about:

The big spacepod was quite big [nice], and necessarily somewhat curved, to remind its inhabitants of their once-spherical home (now somewhat less so, and in varied and cosmically sundry trajectories).

They were outrunning an asteroid their exploding planet had accidentally created and sent into space, in too-large a chunk, and at too great a radial velocity for the likely likings of their nearest-by and endeared-from-afar neighbours, the Otherlings.

The Otherlings knew not of very many evolving Special Situations currently (and some still forever) at play in their most immediate cosmos. The Us

Of course, I stopped mid-sentence, just after introducing The Us. Still, this is useful info. I recall the basics of this story now, and might revive it elsewhere, sometime, maybe. Maybe you wish to continue it, that works too:

NoName’s ship is hurtling toward the home planet of the Otherlings, to save them from being destroyed by fragments of the exploded home planet of The Us.

NoName’s race refers to itself as The Us. As The Us travel through the cosmos, exploring things and saving other things, their own definition of The Us updates and expands accordingly, in a perfectly rational manner (“if you think about it”). The Otherlings are simply aspects of themselves The Us have yet to encounter, understand, and then naturally assimilate – but not in creepy Borg style; assimilation to The Us works both ways. We might call it ‘evolution’.

I love this story seed. I sort of wish I had sort of finished it. My problem is not having no dreams or no hope – my problem is a lack of focus and will to pursue them to fruitful conclusions. I might learn something from The Us, in this regard. I hope they are coming to assimilate with us, too. I’m sure we could all use the help.

[REDACTED]: Yellow, white, beige, black, blue, green, etc. Small wee logo wherever you want them. You can order extras as proof of purchases, redeemable or donateable to other things and persons.

Some marketing ideas for a friend.

“Are you about to become a Cassandrabelle Abigail-Bentlington Bloom?”

Presumably, a Cassandrabelle Abigail-Bentlington Bloom is somebody you probably don’t want to be accused being. Or maybe I’m getting the speaker’s tone entirely wrong, and being a Cassandrabelle Abigail-Bentlington Bloom might be a wonderful thing to be – maybe the speaker just doesn’t want to get their hopes up too quickly (but just can’t help it).

“That woman is like a negative compass – a type of minor witch, I hear”

One said then to the First, “I might not so quickly think so minor – but perhaps you’re right about one thing or another”

Maybe Cassandrabelle Abigail-Bentlington Bloom was a minor witch. Or else I stopped writing about her and immediately went on to write two lines of dialogue for some completely different story. I think they work well together though, as a 3-paragraph thing. What do you think?

Post [p]ledge to Davie504. Level up taken, for what it’s worth

I did post my pledge to Davie504 – but I did not deliver on it. Yet.

Not sure what skill or ability levelled up though, or for whom.

puppets:{SSo.PA.Actor.v1.A<Puppet>, Puppet.B<NoName>,

Syntax Error.

Cat slap. Slap your heroes with fluffy cats. No cats (fluffy or otherwise not-so) ever harmed to our best knowledge Dlap with flags

Ok I have no idea. I blame Kim for this one. I think “Dlap” was also supposed to be “Slap”, but even with that clue I am left largely in the dark, alone.

Can’t decide yet – this plot is non-linear; we’ll have to wait.

Wait for what sir?

An OtherLing to Answer Us, Ensign Puppet.C

Yes, it was a rough escape. So much velocity everywhere. And ensign, when will we be-there-soon?

More bits to the thing about The Us coming to save The Otherlings, and then co-assimilate. Excellent. There is an ensign. The bit about the non-linear dialogue is a clue: I was writing a Choose Your Own Adventure style story. I have done this a few times already and I currently owe some Dear Readers a few continuations of the Adventures they’ve kindly chosen to Choose.

This was to be another one: A thing started with the intention of continuing, but then which ended before it could even begin.

“So much velocity everywhere” hahah, I really like that. I hope I actually wrote it. Who knows.

Well, that’s it for now. That whole post was next atop the Draft Bin, and called ‘Untitled’. I assumed when I opened it, it would either be entirely empty (save perhaps for a single, half-sentence), or have random junk in it. It sure did end up being the second thing.

I hope this wade through the detritus of my I-wish-to-write-something blogger’s brain was of some value to the Dear Reader… though for the life of me I can’t imagine quite what kind of value that could be, or whatsoever it might be redeemed for. Sometimes things are just irredeemable.

Still, here we are, at the end of it all. Tied up with a ribbon. Done and done.