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Blaurgh!Talk

 Welp. The world is still the world. What's it doing to tick you off this week?

Monday, April 29, 2024

Monday OT the Third of the Day Probably But Maybe Only the Second Depending on Whether Rooo Finds a Topic for Parlez Vous and Finds Time in Her Busy Schedule to Compose It

That look you get when you announce you're going to talk about a weird dream you had last night. Like, OMFG I hate you so much right now Boredom ahoy arrr ye mateys Calgon take me away. We've all been there right? Your dreams are fascinating to yourself and only yourself, and you cringe when someone tells you theirs.

'80s Brother HQ-220 listed on eBay. "OUT OF STOCK," apparently. Pish.
Here's one of mine from February:

Three teens, two boys and one girl, are about to leave their rural Italian village to seek their fortunes. They've been friends since they were babies. The houses and streets are too big, cyclopean*, as though fashioned by a race of giants. The tradition of the village dictates that once the kids enter adulthood, they leave and don't return until they've succeeded in their endeavors. First though, they have to build a sculpture, and the village chooses where they should remain until the creators' return. Dark quiet boy's is placed in a museum. Tall handsome boy's is in the town square. Much is expected of these two. The girl, t-shirt and jeans, a kerchief over her hair, says to the boys, "I placed mine where it belongs," and "See you later." Tall handsome boy goes to the adjoining attic over their respective, partitioned  homes where they all used to play and finds her sculpture. It's a confusing, intricate spidery thing with wheels and cogs and he doesn't understand it. He blows on a piece of cloth at the side – a sail – and the entire piece comes to life. A kinetic sculpture that needs wind to operate, in a place that gets no wind. He goes to find her but she's already gone.

I've never been to Italy. I don't have recurring dreams and never end up back where they started, but I would like to know what happens next. Is it the girl's story? Or the blandly handsome boy's? Most of all, I would like a closer look at that sculpture. 

    "That would make a very fine short story," said the Missus in the morning whilst toiling away out back, "And I would surely enjoy reading it upon its completion."
    "Lord willing," she added.
    After long pause in contemplation, I grunted and replied, "Okay, Mother, but where am I going to find a Brother HQ-220? And what would the ribbons cost? Prohibitive, the cost, one would think." I went back to baling hay.

(The joke being that the only time I ever wrote any fiction for any reason was in AP English on a hand-me-down electric typewriter. Had the dual correction ribbon too IIRC, which was a good idea, but of questionable execution; a capricious tool. I remember attempting fiction as difficult and unrewarding.) 

I suppose everything I've ever typed online could technically be classified as fiction.

The typewriters we were taught touch-type in school weren't even electric. Anybody else have to learn how to type on a manual typewriter? And of those who had, how many still feel inclined to double-space after a sentence?

Everyone who wishes K-Pop sounded more like shoegaze/dreampop from the 90s and aughts say "Aye."


* – Cyclopean def. 2: huge, massive (Merriam-Webster). There was a bit of confusion over the word a few months ago when discussing Lovecraft. One-eyed, sure, but HP was often describing enormous constructions, not Polyphemus and his brothers. Oxford has it at def. 1 - denoting a type of ancient masonry made with massive irregular blocks. 

This has been One Pedantic Moment with your host, SQRL.

https://www.wecb.fm/wildlife-photographer-wakes-up-from-a-nap-under-a-tree-with-a-sleeping-cheetah-against-him/


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