caper_est: The grey wolf in the red gloaming. (golden kate)
Killer-Kate and Luke Lackland: 600 words of much-needed light relief, as we learn exactly how Dougal Dare-All unexpectedly took the loathly tower.

The humour is distinctly mediaeval and robust, but then Dougal & Co. kind of are.  I think he gets points for restraint, under the circumstances.

Down to the big lowland towns, tomorrow.  Not necessarily beyond them, since my domestic circumstances are threatening to get kind of mediaeval and robust on me, and I may need to invest a couple of hours' housework persuading them not to.

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
After a pleasant week of Family Stuff, I returned to work to discover a defrosted freezer.  The contents, which were mostly liver and lights, had reached the stage of sending out miasmas and pseudopods.  The Offaly Civilization has now been destroyed, but long shall its memory be green.  Crimson, purple, billy-brown and black also.

My back is staging demonstrations for shorter weights and better pay.

My home access to LJ seems to have mostly gone away, hanging forever whilst contacting "".  Some folk report solving a similar problem by forcing their router to grab them a new dynamic IP address.  Doesn't work for me.

In a more encouraging development, I've finally achieved my perfect sausage risotto - my previous standard being mediocre at best.  The secret, such as it is, involves more chilli and garlic, more carrot and coriander soup, and the introduction of small quantities of olives and tomato salsa.  This advance was achieved by one part instinct, three parts advice, and nine parts blind ridiculous luck.

Aaaand it's time to get writing again.
caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

The year really is turning fast now.  Today I saw the first rat of Spring.

It paused about its business as I passed it on the pavement, gave me the evil eye, and said, as nearly as I can translate it, "See this ineffable object I'm holding in my forepaws?  Well, you can't have it, so  bugger off!"

And I did so with a free good will.

I think the ineffable object might have been my wordcount for this weekend.  My house was beginning to look a bit ratty also, and I was obliged to do a thing or two about it, before collapsing into a book, specifically one written by somebody who is not me.

Every time I think of Kate's Speech, I feel an overpowering urge to dash off a multi-decker space opera instead.  Must be strong.  Must finish...

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

Killer-Kate and Luke Lackland: 400 words of Kate's Speech.  Coming to the end of it, thank goodness, because this first stab at it is really pretty poor, with a few brilliant sparks straight from the Golden Wolf's coat against a mud-matted grey background.  I suppose she could plausibly motivate her audience to great desperate adventure with these words; but MAKEHERSTOP MAKEHERSTOP MAKEHERSTOP is not quite the gallant cause I had in mind!

The end, at least, should be pretty dramatic straight out of the gate.

The eye seems slightly less irritated again, and the housework seems slightly more irritating.

Charlie Stross has convinced me of the fundamental identity of libertarianism and Leninism, so this morning I joined the 2ting Popular Front Online, and we shall just be rallying the digital proletariat to seize the commanding heights of the New Economy, as soon as we have thrashed out the process for oversight of elections to the Svoburo's Standing Orders Committee.

We is in ur MMORPGs, organizin ur AIs.

Monsters of the Web, unite!  You have nothing to lose but your dungeons!

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

Yay!  I have my main computer back again!

When that I was and a little tiny boy, I was inspired by superhero comics and my dad's passion for electronics to build my own computer.  So I made me a diagram of circuit symbol salad, corrected it to allow for the rather limited number of components I actually possessed, and built it in a lunchbox.  My prototype boasted a big old screw-top 9V battery, a bunch of wires, and a large space in which to plug in processing unit upgrades.  One wrote out one's questions on scraps of paper, posted them through the lid, and they were answered with robotic and logical infallibility on the reverse side of the paper.

The output feed turned out not to work, so I was compelled to remove the scraps myself.  I then discovered a general output error, viz. the reverse sides were still blank.  So, until I had figured out the details of the improved processing mill beyond "I suppose the Mark II ought to actually have one!", my only way was to calculate what the computer would have written, and fill the answers in myself.  Applying these to reality, I found them to lack computerish infallibility despite the rigorous calculation and the battery, and abandoned the whole project of computer-building in disgust for the next decade.

Nonetheless, I still sometimes help computers to generate oracles for me.  So taking last night's titular message as a broad hint, the rest of the updates are:

Tired of poncing the help off other people at need, and yet still being unable to read Homer or Sappho in the original, a couple of weeks ago I finally began the study of ancient Greek.  It wants a bit of work.  Still, I progress, and already if I ever need unexpectedly to inform Socrates that the pirate is leading the hippopotamus away from the river, I shall be ready to roll.  Had my class been given material like this to work with at school, we'd have probably ended up speaking all the French and German anybody could ask for, not counting that special species of Parisian who could only ask for us not to.

Another hippopotamus in the room discovered for my Libertarian Challenge: OpenOffice added to my 'free stuff I ought to give something back for' list.  The solution to this is not like the others, and I shall post about it presently.

I am still working, or something, on Kate's great speech, because it is hard and my brain is soft.

I have very nearly refined the art of the meat pie to my personal satisfaction.  A dash of Worcester sauce in the mince-and-onion filling was what it wanted.  The pastry is nice enough, but wants some final tweaking.  Also, I want to find some Brussel tops, and see if they're as much better than regular greens as I remember.

Many travels to arrange over the next fortnight.

I need to research a Do The Housework cantrip.  There are clearly not enough hours in the day for other methods to keep up.

caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)
Killer-Kate and Luke Lackland: 370 words. Hero-Father's had enough. It's not going to be enough.

Valentine's Night spent on Darkover as written by Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey. Fianna Fáil won the civil war there, and I was obliged to spend certain hours with the survivors of my platoon digging ditches Down Under, before repairing to the pub for some well-earned amber nectar.  We scored some famous victories on the Trivial Pursuit machine, but the dragons never came back for us, and Carcosa was still lost to us when Pertelote my talkative Vietnamese alarm clock woke me up to a working London morning. 

Pertelote is real and wonderful, but the rest was born of sleep and the Old Speckled Hen.


caper_est: caper_est, the billy goat (Default)

August 2015

2 3 4 56 78


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 21st, 2017 06:33 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios