Chaotic Spirit

Almost true fiction: The Red Lady – Flash Friday #5

lolagirl10 — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 17:27:03 +0000

The dance hall was vibrant, lots of people littered the floors appeared to be smiling and enjoying themselves. As the music played, the melody was only interrupted by the occasional clatter and clang of glasses being brought together in toasts for everything from World peace to the Birthday Girl, it was her 30th birthday. She was wearing a vibrant red dress that flowed like liquid with every move she made. She was hauntingly beautiful with long, streaked blonde hair decorated by a sparkling array of jewellery.

Then, slowly, the DJ started fading out the current music, proclaiming “and now for something very special for the lady of the evening…..This is for you…” the song began fading up as the singer started… “Lady In Red…” the dance floor slowly emptied for all but a few couples.

She sat, patiently waiting for her husband to take her hand, but he did not…

Now really what would I do in this situation? I’m stuck on the words again and, you know that happens a lot. I’ve been sat here for ages trying to get the right thing to include into the story but it just wasn’t working out.

Well, what did you expect? I’m a newbie writer, its not so easy to just hammer down a story just like that you know, you have to be in the right mood. Or maybe that’s just an excuse to procrastinate, but we’ll never really know until we have a word with ourselves, will we?

Psychologically speaking I guess an author has to grow new Neuro connections in their brain to be able to just flow words out at the drop of a hat, to give their characters life and feeling. After all, a character needs life you know – they are people too. To stick them on a page with no basis or context as to what they are doing or why is in itself a recipe for disaster, or if you’re lucky – a few!

Then again who’s to say the characters have to be people? what would happen for example, if lots of frogs littered the floors appearing to smile and enjoy themselves…. well it certainly would change the dynamic a bit wouldn’t it?

Well, to be honest, it doesn’t help with the husband intervening all the time does it, I swear I keep having to delay and replan for my writing time and that really sucks for any new writing. I’d love to set up a writing sanctuary, away from the chaos – but then if I did that, he’d think I was abandoning him. Oh, what to do, what to do?

Hrm, lets take a walk and see what’s happening, you never know when inspiration will strike – so notepad in hand and a pen at my side, I decided to step out into the hustle and bustle of the Saturday markets. It was very busy at this time of the year, many people shopping for food or whatnot for the festivities. It’s been snowing you know, quite heavily, you could barely see the ground for the varying hues of white and brown, mixed up to form some sort of sporadic camouflage colours.

Comically, I just watched someone fall flat on their face at their door – haha, right – I’ll add that to my notebook, you never know when one of the main characters will be in snow you know, I’ll leave the birthday girl alone for now, I’m not done with her yet!

A very cold breeze was blowing, the kind that went straight to your bones at the slightest breath, still, at least it was fresh – not like that horrid stuffy kind you got in the summer, yes, I think winter is a nice time of year, many people wouldn’t but – meh, who’s to bother with that!

It was a cold Christmas Eve for sure, but still, the energy flowing between the people was intense, almost electrical, you could almost hear the crackle in the air if you have such an imagination. But, certainly it felt warmer in the market. Some might say that was because of the number of people milling around the stalls, others might say the force of energy does that. There’s no way to know for sure really, I try to keep an open mind on such matters.

Still, I find inspiration somewhat elusive, maybe I’m not meant to be inspired today. Continuing my trek through the market and cold, it wasn’t far before the atmosphere dwindled and diluted before a similarly desolate atmosphere melted in, the streets away from the market are dark, creepy and lonely. I felt my heart speeding up, the response to fight or flight welling up inside me like the dwindling embers of a roaring fire slowly growing to grasp at the clutches of flame all over again.

My breath erupted in a spout of water vapour, almost like the very air was being stolen from my body before I was finished with it. I pulled my jacket tighter to myself and kept walking, I had no idea where I was going – I just went. This wasn’t unusual for me, but tonight seemed so much more foreboding than usual. As I turned the corner I heard the loudest shriek from a woman, further down the road and my embers BURNED, I was terrified. What would I do? run, hide, help?, try to help – my mind was frozen, just like my fingers. I had came to a halt at a corner, so far I wasn’t seen by either of the two people, one woman, one man – it looked like she was running, or trying to, all I had to do was yell – it would distract the man long enough that she might get a head start. But if I did that, I would be next on the firing line, I had to yell and hide very quickly, there was some rubbish bins nearby where I could crouch and hide.

Well what else could be done? I certainly wasn’t leaving her to her fate, oh no – so I leaned around the corner and yelled: “HEY! WHO IS THAT!?!!?” The man paused, looking back before turning and, seeing me on the corner, he gave chase. I jumped between those bins for everything that is dear to me. If anyone, not just me, saw him, he would be in trouble of course and that was bad news for anyone that did. Thankfully, the woman got away – I hope she is safe. My heart was thumping so hard and fast now, I was almost afraid he’d hear it. By the way he was hovering on the corner, in fact, I was sure he could. But eventually, he grunted “Arrgghh” a very deep, angry and aggressive grunt at that. I dared not move, at least, not just yet anyway. After some minutes, I didn’t know how many – it was lots, my fingers were all pins and needles, I decided to venture back into the world.

~~~

But goodness it WAS cold, it was time for me to head home. I didn’t get the story I was looking for of course – but then, these things rarely go to plan. I’ll need to get back to the Red Lady at her birthday party sometime, but not before I get some food and give the husband a cuddle.

Merry Christmas peoples!

Prologue – #FlashFriday 4

lolagirl10 — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 11:22:07 +0000

Sercheti was a little town almost humble by comparison to its yearly influx of cash from the sale of the gemstones. The buildings were mostly wooden, and lined the river on both sides. The town itself was nestled quite snugly between the river and the cleft of trees behind it and sat at the very beginning of the river before its winding passage took it through the forest. The obvious trading traffic used one of the main roads that connected with the Glades somewhere North of Sercheti. Many of the other roads that connected the various towns were nothing more than dirt tracks used by foot travellers or people on horses or donkeys.

The poorer people might use a donkey to carry their goods, the more affluent or noble people had horses. But by far the most common was people on foot with backpacks which they could carry around with them to set up stall wherever they felt might bring business. In this area certainly the link for most of the foot roads was at the glade, the glade was the central hub for the area. The main paved road through the region was there. So more often than not there would be a makeshift markets there at various peak times during the week.

~~~ Matt started his day, pretty much the same as every other day in Sercheti, he was a miner and it was his duty to seek out the gemstones in the Crystal caverns behind the waterfall.

He usually worked in the evening, preferring that time of the day because the position of the sun leant the caves a very beautiful sparkle far more subtle than you would get at the peak of the day. The caves had various holes in the ceiling, some made deliberately by the miners and some were naturally formed. He liked the naturally formed areas the best because they had a way of bending the sun in so many directions that would not be possible for the man-made counterparts. In some places the sunlight hit crystals above and bounced around as if in a cascade from crystal to crystal to form the most exquisite light patterns and beams.

It was one such evening that Matt found the red crystal, that exceptionally rare crystal that was only found once in every five or six years. Any miner who found these crystals were paid an awful lot more money than the other miners, because of the expert skills required to locate and subsequently extract them. The trouble with Matt was that he wasn’t a very good miner, in fact he’d only just completed his four year apprenticeship and acquired the title and rights of a Journeyman miner. This was his first full shift.

Upon seeing the red glint, he was unsure of what he saw – surely he couldn’t be just that lucky? Before too long he saw the glint again. It was coming from the left hand side of the cavern, looked to be tucked in way at the top of the caverns sides. He was told about the red crystals and their infamous rarity and also about how dangerous they were to extract, something about highly unstable compounds in it. Matt just thought that was just a scare story to stop the younger miners getting their claws on such a coveted item. He wanted to get it and prove that the stories were rubbish and started to look for a way to climb up and get it, looking around for a while, he saw what he was looking for and began moving towards the side wall.

Aside from the lack of mining skill, Matt could climb – in fact he was the best climber in his family of three brothers. So rather than seeing an assortment of edges and jaggy crystals on the cavern walls, he saw opportunities for handholds and even a path up to the red glint. So carefully, one hand over the other, he bagan to climb the wall sometimes, he would imagine the thought of himself as a spider, placing his limbs out and up as if he had those eight legs and if you saw him mid-climb, you might just agree with him as hand over hand leg over leg, he began to slowly make his way up the edge of the cavern wall.

Eventually, Matt reached the red crystal – it was actually hidden behind various jagged white crystals that magnified the glint of the red one. Using a rope he tied himself around one of the larger crystals and slowly taking his pick out of his pack, began chipping away at the white crystals around the red one. He kept some of the larger chips that came off the white crystals and kept going until the last few surrounding the red one came away. One of the final blows he made glanced of the edge of the red crystal and caused a small crack, “Shit!”

If a crack was on a red crystal it would be devalued and seeing this crack he had to think of something, fast. While he was staring at the crack and pondering what to do, he noticed that the crack was black, almost like a gaping maw where his pick had glanced it. If he extracted it now, it’ll likely get a much lower value when he weighed it in. After a few moments, his face brightened up and he realised what he could do, “Why not break it in two?” he mused aloud.

The idea seemed so simple, break it in two, weigh in one of them and hold onto the other – keep it for another time. So, having made his decision Matt decided to bring the pick down and attempt to make the crack even larger of course the odd thing was, when he brought his pick down to the existing crack, it came back up covered in black. Not sure what to make of it, after wiping the goo off the pick he tried again. No such luck, it still came back up covered in black. It was like the red crystal was bleeding black, like blood. Looking closer at the blackness, he almost thought it was spreading, spilling out over the whole crystal but it was so slow, so very slow he couldn’t work it out. By now of course, he was getting a little bit nervous – he had no idea what he was dealing with. He soon began to regret being the arrogant sod who wanted to be famous for finding the rare red gem. The black still oozed out of the crevice that had appeared on the gem and minute by minute the ooze became a stream and then a torrent. There was very little of the red crystal to be seen now and the black was all over his hands, it felt icy cold, like pure dread seeping into his soul, something was badly wrong….

Frozen by fear, Matt was unable to move from where he was hanging, suspended from the larger white crystal and powerless to free himself, much less climb down the canyon walls. From the coldness in his chest, he felt a growing nausea emerging like a ball of grease building up his insides. It wasn’t too long before the nausea grew so intense he had to heave and wrench so hard that the rope holding him tight to the white crystal bit into his gut. The pressure built and built before he had projectile vomiting. The vomit itself was bubbling and black as it took flight in the air, travelling mere inches before gravity overcame the mass, bringing the vomit to the floor with a sickly splat and gurgle.

By now, his insides were in flames and Matt couldn’t hold a single thought but for the searing pain travelling through his body in shocking waves. His eyes rolled into his head and he convulsed before he let out a burble and he crumpled. Hanging limply from the rope, Matt was dead, leaving the cavern once again silent but for the eroding hiss from the black ooze

Flash Friday #3: Chronicles of Telfir, the writer

lolagirl10 — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 23:56:10 +0000

Standing in the forest, I take a look around, the majesty and age of the trees succinct, they give life, shelter and wood for heat. There can be no more a stable diet of life, life without noise or chaos. A Life ordered in nature’s infinate way, slow and methodical. A good place then, for writing my book, amidst the crystal clear air and quiet shuffles of animals through the brown and gold of the autumn leaves for their next meal. Sunlight shafts explode through the canopy, adding to the atmosphere. It begins to rain now – Nature’s cleanser.

As it hits the leaves and the under-brush below, the unmistakeable musk that breathes fresh air into the world enters my nose. You can’t help but clear your mind here, all that circles your mind is calmed by the ageless woodland around you.

The rustling sounds closer now, a nearby rustling of leaves. From underneath the detritus, pokes a little nose, wet long and furry – it wrinkles up in miniature movements, it smells the breadcrumbs I supposed, the very same ones I discarded a moment ago.
Pickings must be slim for it at this time of the year. In but one moment, four stocky little legs with glistening black fur gave way to a gentle brown coloured body, round and dumpy – just the right shape for its legs.

I outstretched my hand in friendship, the animal doesn’t look to be a threat, and clearly doesn’t eat meat, no teeth. It approaches me, its long nose sniffing at my face, clearly its still looking for some food. Slowly, I move my hand towards its fur, so very slowly – so as not to cause it to start and run away. Its fur was so soft, I could tell why people chose to hunt these animals. I’d seen many like it before, but all dead. It saddens me that people would selfishly take this animals life to keep the fur for themselves.

There was a sudden shot in the distance (BANG) and the animal ran away, it must have been terified, and with good reason – heck I was. I felt the air cooling against my skin and just as I noticed that, the light dimmed a little, it was time to leave. The light was fast fading and I knew I’d left it too long to come back, I wanted to explore where the shot came from but when my muse hits, time disappears into a vacuum, usually passing way quicker than I perceived. It must be something about writing that causes it. I wasn’t far from the glade, but I had went off the trail some way and I very nearly couldn’t find my way back to the trail. If only it wasn’t so damned hard to get a place of peace, maybe, just maybe my writing could be completed. The plague was racing through most of the towns anyway, so where better to spend some time than in the wilderness where no one comes around to spread the plagues ill tidings upon me.

Certainly, my novel wouldn’t thank me if I died. It has an astonishing force of will to have me hanging on as long as I have. It speaks to me, coerces me down its dark passageways and twists of plot. The world needs this story, only it doesn’t know yet – heck I don’t even, all I know is what must be written. The pictures are so clear in my mind. (BANG) Dammit!

Oh, I hope the little guy is safe, life for those little creatures whilst simple is not without its own terrifying dangers. Imagine being threatened with your very life almost every time you woke to get food – yeesh, sometimes I’m glad I’m human and other times I find myself envying the simple life of the creatures, I guess there are benefits to both – it’s freezing and we humans don’t have any fur.

Now that’s a sound I never tire of hearing, the distant rhythmic rumble of the waterfall at the glade always eases my soul and helps me focus, the way it always changes but also stays the same is hypnotic. I could listen to it for hours, but the daylight is fading fast and I need to get back to Mable at home, she always misses me terribly when I go to write. I always tell her that it’ll be okay and not to worry, but half the time I don’t think she hears me. The sound of the waterfall is closer now, my horse should be around here somewhere…(WHISTLE) (WHINNY)

Ah, there he is – Bolt. He’s always been a friend of mine, been with me for years, don’t ask me why he chose to stick around so long – no better offers I guess. How are you boy?

(WHINNY)

Yes, I know its cold. We should head back now, can we ride?

(WHINNY)

Thank you, lets away.

The rain thrummed on my back like so many small pebbles hitting the surface of the water. Soon be home to Mable, she’ll have it at me for being late and soaked – sigh.

~~~

After arriving at home, I was soaking wet and I must have cursed too loudly when I landed on the puddle because then the damned lock wouldn’t budge. The door was mocking me. I would mock it back, but I was just too damned tired to try.

Eventually, the door opened (I asked it nicely) and Mable hadn’t moved from the fire. She was sulking.

Ha! she wont be sulking when I put her dinner out. Sure enough, when the clatter of that steel bowl hit the kitchen top – in bounded Mable, her grumpy demeanour seemed to have vanished. Her brown fur was slightly singed.

Have you been too close to that fire again?
(GROWL)

Ahh, women – can’t live with them, can’t live without them.

Friday Flash #2 – Virtual Relationship

lolagirl10 — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 19:50:11 +0000

Shit, damn, fuck, cunt and a thousand other expletives sprang to mind, he wanted to meet – damn it, he wanted to meet. This wasn’t fair, it wasn’t supposed to happen – it was only a joke, a bit of fun. We’d only been seeing each other online for a few months now, how come he wanted to meet?

So I pinged up the IM : “How come you want to meet?”
“Cos you seem kinda cool, would love to meet you – your pictures are great!”
“Well, I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”
“That’s cool, but I would like to meet ya.”
“Give me some time i’ll be around for some time yet…. must dash though! TTYL!”
“Hehe, I know you will be, take care “

~~~

Isn’t that just typical?
The things in life that would never materialise, end up materialising. I mean, its the internet, right? The world is at the fingertips, and people are talking. A great many lonely hearts out there seeking their one true love, or looking for someone of like mind. The trouble here is that as big as the internet is, you will always find what your looking for, whether or not you actually want to find it. That’s how it started out, I was browsing a singles chatroom and Hugo there seemed to be worth talking to, he liked some of the same sites I did and so, I messaged him. The quick messages became conversations and conversations became regular and before long it turned into extended, late night IM conversations, various swapping of pictures and sharing of life’s ups and downs between us.

It was a match made in heaven and all without the costly inconvenience of a real relationship. So why did he want to meet now? Was I a little to friendly, did I hit too many right notes? clearly, he’s fond of me now and I’m going to have to deal with that.

Shit. I just better get it over with. So I pinged up the IM again, a few hours later “Hey Hugo”
“Oh, hey, how was dinner?”
“Wasn’t too bad, was quite nice actually”
“Cool, I had mine a little bit earlier – mmm pizza.”
“hehe”
“Listen, I was thinking about that thing you mentioned, you know about meeting?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Well I’ve been thinking, it might not be a bad idea really, I mean we’ve been – well, I guess seeing each other for ages now. I think I should give you a chance.”
“But you better watch out, I wont be alone.” (I lied)
“Hey, you’ve got nothing to worry about, when would you like to meet?”
“At the weekend, Starbucks?”
“Sure, what time?”
“Dunno, about 2?”
“Yeah, np, got the dog to take to the vet in the morning anyway. See you then!”
“Should we do anything to make sure we see each other?”
“I guess we could….. any ideas?”
“Nup, maybe both of us wear blue tops?”
“Can do see you there!”
“Cool “

That’s done it now, no going back – but some part of me wants him to stand me up.

~~~

There I was, sitting at Starbucks – wearing my fave blue t-shirt, it was fair trade cotton – really good quality though, worth the cost.

I rarely came here, but basically, everyone knows Starbucks right? and its not like there were any other decent places that everyone would know, I sighed and took a sip of my latte – my thoughts were racing double-time. Whether I was just nervous or it was the caffeine in the air – I couldn’t tell, maybe a little of both.

I kept noticing the time, always looking at that damned clock, I swear each time I do that the seconds get slower, yeesh, it was only 1:30 – I wanted to get here early to get one of the chairs at the back out of the way, you know away from the windows and the crowd – I guess some part of me just wanted not to be noticed. I hoped in vein

I turned around and just caught a glimpse of him, his eyes found me though, if briefly and suddenly I found my latte cup terribly fascinating, he didn’t seem to notice me – or, oddly enough didn’t seem to want to… how odd…

I felt my cheeks flush, he was really cute. Somehow, in person his photos didn’t seem to do him justice. He had slightly ruffled mousey hair, cut short with an unruly nest of curls jumping out at all angles – but those blue eyes… damn, I’d only glanced at him briefly and my minds eye was ablaze with wondrous imaginings. I wanted to look up again, you know tell myself my mind was exaggerating his looks, so ever so carefully I edged my glance up above the rim of the coffee cup, my heart was beating so fast…

He was at the counter and he was still really attractive – score one girl, IS hot. Well, at least there’s that wish I could stop being so nervous though must be genetic I guess.

He looked just as flustered as I was. His dreamy blue eyes…. dammit, focus Trudy, focus… he was ordering something at the counter – funny that, he ordered the same as me, a Latte. Hey, did he notice what I was drinking?

For long moments he seemed to hover around the counter, seemingly fumbling with his wallet – I could see though he was stalling for time. Shortly after that though, he seemed to have plucked his courage out from his behind, he breathed in – oooh athletic too…… dammit, focus! and he walked over towards me with clumsy deliberate actions, almost like he had rehearsed from a book or something.

My face was red, I could feel it burn like hot coals and my heart was still beating fast…

“Um, er…. um….. Trudy?”

His voice was as ragged as his actions were, it almost looked comical. As attractive as he was, you’d expect him to have been well versed in this sort of thing, so I had to respond…

“Hhhhhi, Hugo?”
“Yyup….. May I?”
“Sit? Sure… I guess”

I was hopelessly grasping at straws for something to say but I was saved…

“Iiittts a little bit weird this you know…”
“Tell me about it…”
“I guess…”
“Heheh” I laughed, I could barely hold it in “we’ve virtually had a relationship already!”
“Hahaha… a Virtual Relationship!” he chimed in, loud enough to make his face burn with a brighter red.

~~~

Friday Flash!

lolagirl10 — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 21:37:59 +0000

Just a word of warning here folks, I’m from the UK as such I describe here the ‘boot’ and ‘bonnet’ of a car, these translate as "Trunk" and "Hood" in American English.

"Hello, you’ve reached the AA breakdown line – can I take your account number please?""Yes, its 65432198."
"Thank you, and you are the account holder?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, for security please confirm the car registration and account address please…"
"YU56 CPJ, 42 Grant drive, Ipswitch"
"Okay, how can we help you today?"
"Well, my car has broken down on the highway – I have a flat and the engine wont start."
"Oh, right okay…. we’ll get someone out to you in around 30mins, is that okay?"
"Yes, thank you."

–

I could see the orange lights a mile away, whether they were for me or not I didn’t know, still it was about the right time for them.
Yup, sure enough it was.

The van pulled in just behind my car lights flashing away. I hoped against hope that I wouldn’t be too late to work.

"Hello there, I take it you were the one that called?"
"Yes."
"Cool, I have your registration mark here – but can I have your membership card too? Just to do the checks."
"Sure thing…"
"It’s been somewhat a double-trouble day! not only did I get a flat, my engine stopped as well, just as I pulled over!"
"Hehe, no worries – we’ll soon have you up and running again…"
"Best we start with the flat, huh? Is the boot open?"
"Yes, just go ahead, it’s open." I said, smiling.

I stepped out, "Do you need a hand?"
"Oh, no that’s okay, I can manage."
"Cool."
"So what happened when the car stopped?"
"Um, when I pulled over the engine kinda shuddered and died – I tried starting it up a few times, but didn’t manage to get it going."
"Ah, right, sounds like you might have a little fuel problem in there, I’ll take a look once I finish with the tyre."
"Right, I hope you can manage, I’ll need to be at work soon…"
"We’ll do our best for you! You’d best call ahead and let them know, don’t worry though – if I can’t get the car started I can take you along, where do you work?"
"Just along the road, about 10miles or so."
"Right, that wont be a problem. There, all done – now lets have a look at your engine shall we?"
"Oh, yeah, sure."

I leaned over and fumbled around to find the catch to open the bonnet before I made the call to the office.

–

"There you go, that’s your tyre done."
"Great, thanks."
"Do you mind getting around to the passenger side? I need to try the ignition."
"Oh, sure." I said, quickly evacuating the seat. She leaned in the drivers door and tried the ignition, it spluttered and failed just as it did with me. After opening the bonnet she leaned in to the engine compartment.

Standing beside the car on the passenger side, I could see the goodly shape of her bosom as she was tweaking the wires and lifting the various mechanical bits and pieces – now don’t get me wrong, I’m not the best with cars but seriously, women don’t usually fit the bill as auto engineers, do they? Heck, usually the ones that are Engineers are usually the type that are ‘butch’ or those you think must be gay or simply not interested in their appearance. But I tell you this lady had the lot, she was lovely. Granted, the overalls she wore almost hung on her, but really, you could see the catlike curves even through the loose overalls. Oh, don’t get me wrong she was strong, she fitted the tyre didn’t she? She was actually quite bulky but not like in an overweight way, well its kinda hard to explain if you didn’t see her.

"Aha! I found the problem…"
"You did? oh, great – what is it?"
"Well, it seems your fuel pipe there…" she said, pointing out a small white pipe " has a crack in it, and since you were slowing down – so did the fuel, which gave you a little air bubble – so your fuel wasn’t getting to the injectors."
"Oh, right – can you fix it?"
"Yup, just need to get a little cover for the crack then all we need to do is pump out the air and you should be on your way."
"That’s great news." I said through a smile I could barely hide, this woman had everything – the great looks, the magic touch, even the playful nature that’s the hallmark of all great women. I had to ask her, I had to speak to her , my heart was pounding.
"heeeh, its unusual for a lady to be doing this kind of thing isn’t it?" I said, as she looked up, she smiled (wow, great smile too) and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, like I haven’t heard THAT before!"
"Ahem, well, yes I guess….. " I could barely find the courage to bleat the words, but I had to, and quickly "You are an incredible woman."
"Haha! Nice try bub, but thank you anyway."

As she was looking at me, I could see it on her face, those deep hazel eyes, she was trying to read me. Trying to get a clue as to what kind of a weirdo I really was, I felt like one – a grade-A werido nutjob. I felt my face burn. I knew it was a shade of crimson red that wouldn’t look out of place on a kids balloon.
"Um…"

She paused for a second, switching her gaze between me and the car before she started fumbling with the engine once more and, for a few long moments there was silence as she was fiddling with the pipe and some sort of semi-circle plastic tubing she had pulled out of her toolbox, it had a coloured side, probably some sort of papery cover on the adhesive. A few long moments later her head rose from the compartment,
"There we go, let’s give that a shot."

She went to the drivers side again and turned the ignition and the engine roared to life once more.
"Right, that’s you all ready to go… now I’ll just get the papers for you to sign then I’ll let you get on to your work." I got the impression that she was hiding behind our professionalism, hey, can you blame her?

I felt like a complete idiot. Seriously, its not something you do, is it?
but god, she is something like I’ve never seen before. Taking a deep breath I tried to compose myself, there was no point to try and speak to her again – not on this blue moon anyway. She came back from her van with the papers in hand,
"Here you go, just sign here and here."
"Thanks." I added, trying to cut things short and make a sharp exit.

Signed papers in hand, she smiled at me (god what a smile), gave me my copy of the documents and left for her van.

In a few moments, the van was gone. I don’t know if I felt relieved or disappointed, I knew I’d probably never see her again – that Automobile Angel…

I took a seat back in the drivers side, ready to head to work – man, I’d be lucky to keep my job now, I did tell them I’d be late but I was already on shaky ground at that point. So, just before I headed off to my fate, I opened up the paper to check what she’d written about the problems…

"1. Put the spare tyre on the wheel, old tyre in boot.
2. Checked engine fault, fuel pipe crack responsible, added protective cover to affect temporary repair. Driver is advised to seek a permanent repair."

Then my signature and below that, in the space below:

"Hey, I’m probably going to regret this, heck you did come of a little weird to me but at the same time, there was something interesting about you. If you want to get to know me better, this is my number – don’t get any ideas though if you pull anything screwy I can block your number quick as anything. Elle"

Vinyl versus Digital, a modern day retrospective

lolagirl10 — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 11:52:02 +0000

Recently, my husband dug out his old Amplifier and Record Player (Turntable) and set it up once more. The Turntable is a Garrard SP25 Mk III and the amp is a NAD 3020B both apparantly were the upper end of the budget market in the 1970’s.

Don’t let the word ‘Budget’ put you off, they still beat the socks of anything we might call ‘Budget’ or ‘Value’ today, heck even the NAD 3020B still beats some of the most expensive equipment available today.

I was sceptical at first, having not myself heard a vinyl record in a very long time (hey, its old hat, right? old and not worth the time) until that was I heard a record being played.

The record itself was Neil Diamond’s The Jazz Singer album, it is the soundtrack to the classic film of the same name.

Naturally, being the curious cat I am, I decided a little impromptu comparison would be interesting to carry out between the digital version of some of the album tracks I had on my computer. The first thing I noted about the digital tracks, was the volume of them (both aurally and visually in the waveform) were incredibly high indicating some sort of Dynamic compression was employed (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dynamic_range_compression) which basically means that the audio waveform has been processed to ensure that all high volume levels of the track waveform are hovering around the outer limits of the range acceptable for the audio production. This was great for loudness but not so much for the quality and ‘feel’ to the music and the compression makes it sound almost metallic. The digital version was sharp and clinically clear with little depth to the environment being portrayed in the music.

With the vinyl versions of the tracks, instantly you note the more detailed nuances of the singer and the instruments without very loud or very quiet segments. The track feels more balanced and you get a sense of exactly how the audio should have sounded in the studio. The reason for this is in fact that the records hold an exact mirror copy of the original waveform produced by the artists at the time of recording, essentially the audio is natural and unprocessed analogue signals – just like you would hear if I were actually speaking to you now. Digital was applauded for it’s bright, clear sound but it came at a cost of depth and ‘feeling’ of the track and since the audio in a Digital format such as a CD or MP3 track, the natural analogue sound has been ‘approximated’ – from that you can read ‘best guess’.

Initially intrigued by the amazing difference between the two versions of the songs, I started researching – and discovered something rather surprising in today’s digital world, Vinyl is making a big comeback in the face of falling CD sales (http://iamalaser.com/2009/05/01/vinyls-here-and-she-wants-you-back/) largely, this is due to the MP3 / Itunes download market getting rid of the need to carry a disk with you. Why? Well the simplest answer(audio quality aside) is probably two-fold, on one hand people seem to be wanting to build their home collections up again and the mediums used no longer need to be small or portable. Secondly, there is no real way to physically recreate or copy a vinyl disk that is widely available to consumers. This fact will only help the record labels regain a hold on the music market, which, in itself has been slipping due to the Itunes generation of legally and illegally downloaded music.

The discoveries I have made these last few days have really kicked my inner Audiophile back into the stream of concious thought and have me fascinated with audio once more, I used to have an interest in the audio engineering aspect of technology when I was in school and that was before I had any sort of income to make use of in pursuit of the hobby. Now though, I’m married and working I am starting to stare with wide-eyed curiosity once more at the wonderful world of Audio Tech.

When words seem flat…

lolagirl10 — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 14:36:40 +0000

As most of you reading this will know, my latest WiP is an article based on the business I’ve spent the last 5 years of my life in, games testing, the business and background of it. So let me be the first to tell you, its BORING – but the prospect of selling it to a magazine and having my first ever published article are very strong motivators. So I do my best, hammering out the Raw words that someday will become an article when I find the right way to shape and present it.

I’ve recently been reading through a copy of “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron and “All A Twitter” by Tee Morris and even “The Magician” by Raymond E Feist. So yes, I’ve been doing a lot of reading as well as writing. The most interesting to note here however is “The Artist’s Way” this is a book about unlocking your inner creative self, its not about how to be a writer/painter/screenwriter its simply about unlocking the creative energy inside, and believe me when I tell you IT WORKS .

I was sceptical at first, but kept an open mind and did what it asked of me and it astounded me just how much my creative energy is just beneath the surface. Thanks to that book, I started to draw and sketch things, just because I wanted to (its that little voice you should listen to) and it shocked me just how effective I could be at it, letting the creative energy guide the pencil leaving the conciousness behind you’ll find the pictures I completed here: http://www.twitpic.com/photos/lisa107b

But if I take you back to the BORING article, as you know BORING words don’t really flow as wonderfully as creative words but one thing stuns me all the more is that when I’m stuck, I want to draw. Honestly, I have compulsion to draw when the mundane words don’t seem to flow properly and when I do, something wonderful happens – especially if I create something that looks the way its supposed to, the buzz is amazing. I drew a rose today, from a photograph – I hope to post that up to twitpic soon .

I really need to think, is it possible my craft is drawing, rather than writing – maybe both?

Creativity still perched on top

lolagirl10 — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 08:07:16 +0000

Yes, its been a few days now since I last updated but that’s cool – I’ve been busy! Promise!
Work on my article is progressing and I have a couple of questionnaires sent out, I have another three to draft and send out – but I’ll get those done too!

On other notes, I recently acquired a copy of “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron – this book is gold dust!
Just reading through the introduction gives you this very useful anecdote: “Accumulate pages, not judgements.” and just reading into the first chapter (titled Week 1 in the book) led me to draw this: http://twitpic.com/fzalz from a simple doodle on Monday, I simply told myself not to try and make it anything in particular and that page organically grew from that sense of security, you know where you aren’t worried if it’ll look okay or its not perfect. You don’t worry about it because you haven’t a preconceived notion of what it ’should’ look like. It’s almost like free-writing in a way.

Speaking of writing, I intend to do some more work on my story soon – I had a wasted 2hrs last night trying to get the new wireless network up and running so I can use the bedroom as my artist’s retreat again, so I’ll need to get the questionnaires done first. The first wireless router I had inexplicably stopped working, I hadn’t worried too much about it, the thing had been on constantly for over 9 months, rather than mess about with it I decided to get a new one. I gave up on spending endless hours on PC troubleshooting years ago -
ultimately I just figured it wasn’t worth the trouble and nowadays I just wouldn’t have the time anyway!

An update for yesterday, 26th August

lolagirl10 — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 11:48:25 +0000

For any of you wondering, yes, I did write last night – but not on my fiction story. I set to work on my big article
I drafted questionnaires up for the various people willing to participate and tonight I plan to do a rough outline of the main ‘meat’ of the article.

I didn’t do a word count I think I’d only do that for my fiction stories and I keep a track of the word count in brackets at the bottom of my story – this will give you an idea of my progress to date, yes don’t shout at me for the gaps – I’m working on that and you should know that!

(355~ words Friday, 22nd May)
(180~ words Monday 25th May)
(918~ words Thursday 28th May)
(820~ words Saturday 30th May)
(580~ words Saturday 6th June)
(518~ words Thursday 30th July)
(1014 words Sunday 23rd August)
(614~ words Tuesday 25th August)

Its always a good idea to keep track of your writing, it gives you a ‘yard stick’ of sorts, to gauge how your doing. I read this tip the other day, I’m sure it was on “The Renegade Writer”. This is a great site, full of useful info, if you haven’t already – bookmark it! its a great resource for writers

Lisa (@Lisa107b)

Wow :) 8 Hits more today…. and without a Twitter Plug!

lolagirl10 — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 19:47:06 +0000

I’m impressed!
Seems I’m getting a higher profile, as in one notch above obscurity. It’s really pushing me onwards and upwards!

Today, I had a Dynomite idea for an article this morning on the way to the daily sludgery. I realised of course that the daily sludgery could actually be my key to a brighter future. You see, come September the 15th – I’ll have been at my current company for FIVE years! That’s some amount of time when you think about it and with that thought, I realised that I have the rare kind of experience to make something of it.

So there it is, in its skeleton form – to write an article about what I know best. Now its up to me to put some meat on the bones and launch myself at the mean and nasty proffesional writing world.

I know this isn’t a passport to instant success, I’m fully expecting many years to pass before my career gains enough momentum to come even close to my main income souce, but everything has to start somewhere, right?

Which brings me to my next muse perhaps writing a blog post is my way of warming up to do some writing on my story, it certainly seems to be a case where I start to write here and the words simply flow out like water down a hillside (SEE, amazing huh?) LOL

Anyway, I better stop rattling words in here and get to my story before my time and energy run out!

Thanks to you all for looking and commenting!

Lisa (@Lisa107b)