Bending Point

Here I am.

Following my last post, gosh! Changes in my life have been smooth but sharp, light but weighty. I am now a full-time editor (of BOOKS, my friend, yes! I am an honest and professional editor of BOOKS), which is an interesting new lifestyle to adjust to. My time is different: no more of the student life for me. Strange and not strange.

So. I've been thinking about this blog. I think it's time to make a change here, too. My personal time is more limited than it used to be, and my non-blog creative commitments (scripting & noveling) have been backburnering for too long. So I think it's time to refocus myself on those other things, and to put these Mistakes Being Made on a more permanent sort of hiatus. Possibly actually permanent, I mean. As in: no more this blog.

This has always been a very casual, experimental & ad hoc little blog – something for my own fun, rather than any serious attempt to build an audience or anything – but I've got to the point where, like I said, things need to change. Focus or no focus, do or do not. Etc.

When I come back to blogging – whether here, or somewhere new – it'll be with a much clearer sense of purpose and focus, I hope. If I decide I want to focus on music, then I'll do a Rage Roundup every week and I'll be an active presence on other music sites to try to actually build an audience, and so on. Or if I decide to do a blog that focuses on some other thing, then I'll focus on that some other thing instead. And if I decide to do another random meandery half-hearted self-indulgent blog like this one, then I guess I'll do it like this again; but at least I'll try to do it in a much more focused and wholehearted way, I think. If you're going to do something, better to do it right; better to try to do it best, don't you think?

(Or, better to do something that will actually get more readers to comment more often, at the very least...)

So, anyhow. That's what I've been thinking. And that's what I'm going to do, I think.

In the meantime: I may be about to give up long-form textual blogging for a while, but I'll be continuing to post beautiful (mostly) wordless content over at my other miniblog, the wonderful looktime.tumblr.com, which is freaking awesome and you should totally be following. (Seriously, go there, it's great. It's mostly not my stuff, it's just stuff that I like. You'll like it too, I bet.)

Thanks for everything.

More later.

:)

Beware! - The Ghost Fleet of Singapore!!

The most evocative and exciting news story I've read for ages:

"The biggest and most secretive gathering of ships in maritime history lies at anchor east of Singapore. Never before photographed, it is bigger than the U.S. and British navies combined but has no crew, no cargo and no destination ..."

Isn't that a spectacular introduction? Great article, too – check it out. If you haven't already.

Some day soon I'll blog something that's more than just a link to something else . . . but on the other hand, right now I'm on a break, so some day soon isn't tomorrow. Also, it looks like I'm writing a script for an actual movie, did I tell you that? Busy times, my friends! Busy times!

I did tell you about the script thing via Twitter, but I haven't actually told you that I am a twit before now (because, look, all this tweeting is still just an experiment, and it still leaves me feeling kind of . . . dirty . . . ), so, um, anyhow. There you go. Whatevs. Vive la communique ;)

Excuses No Longer Necessary

Because it's up, it exists, it's here. A whole novel. Or heck, a draft of one. Whatever.

If you want to read it & I haven't got around to inviting you yet, you only need to ask me, so please do!

Thanks

--Thoapsl

thoapsl@gmail.com

Excuses, Perfectly Valid Excuses

Oh Anonymous, you are totally right & I am indeed regretful...

Yes, I have been on hiatus for the past month or so. At first for Xmas, and at second because I've spent the past four weeks juggling three jobs (well, more like two and a half, but heck). As these are all jobs with imminent-ish deadlines, sometime in late December I decided that I had to hiatus myself (hiatize?) from Mistakes Being Made until they were definitely sorted. Possibly I should have mentioned this, here? I did think about putting up a "Going On Brief Hiatus" post, but google images couldn't find me any picture that looked like a hiatus.

Maybe Charles Dana Gibson can help us out, though?

Okay, so I'm the dude with the white bow tie, obvs, and maybe, like, the elbows-on-table lady represents one of my jobs, which I'm trying to – uh – fulfil, and, let's say that the what-an-elegant-neck-ribbon-I-have-whoops-my-cleavage lady represents my other job? Which I am also trying to fulfil, er, simultaneously. Hijinx ensue. And that's cool, or it would be, but I'm really leaning up at the bar here in the first place because I'm trying to get a drink (which represents the novel I'm trying to finish, or something?), and then my cocktail is taking forever to mix, and the metaphorical ladies are all distractionlike to me, and oh man I don't even have a face anymore, they call me Blurface.

But I don't know, I think that picture writes some analogies that my metaphors shouldn't be trying to cash. Also, comparing a lady to a job is a bad, inappropriate, wrong thing to do. In many, many ways. Hence: no post about going on hiatus.

Don't worry, Anonymous. The point is rapidly mooting itself, because these pesky employments & misc. other commitments of mine are rapidly approaching endgame. Finally! And in fact, probably within the next fortnight. By mid-Feb at the latest, I should be gainfully unemployed and have reached "The End" of my novel, which means I should be posting stuff on this site at a far more respectable rate. This work is not abandoned.

Besides, it would have been a heck of a downer to finish up here with that last post. I'm sad about Dorothy Porter, but that's no reason to abandon the interweb.

-- Love, Thoapsl

I am too busy to discuss music videos. In lieu:

So I was all like "yeah sure, I know it'll be tough" and hey: nobody ever said it would be easy to make a living, playing the harp. But this was the worst gig ever. First I sold all my clothes for a curtain, and it doesn't even cover my boob. Then I tripped over and lost my shoes. And my harp is so slippery I keep on dropping it and busting strings, and it's not even a full-size harp. Also the lighting technician sucks.

No wonder that stuck-up Joanna Newsom bitch never writes me back

i take it back i take it back! i love you j-n, you are awesome!

or should i say, you ys awesome, lol

--(Thoapsl disavows actually writing any of this)

A long and tiring week

"You have ten questions," she said.
"Don't you mean twenty?" I asked.
"No. Ten."
"Why ten?"
"It's the shortest number," she replied, "all the other ones take forever."
That's true, I thought. But I didn't say so aloud. Rules! Always with the rules, she is. Damn her and damn her tongue.
"Damn you and damn your tongue! Is everything a game to you?" I asked.

(I might have been a bit loud. I was trying to let a little frustration slip through in my voice - but subtly, yeah?)

"No. Everything is not a game."
"Yeah? Badminton?"
"Yes. It's a sport."
So she didn't know what she was talking about. Honestly, I wasn't too impressed with any of her answers. But it was a sunny day - can you believe that? And I was soaking wet from arm to ankle. This was a worry.
"Do you realise what this looks like?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes. Really."
I wasn't sure if she really was really sure, though. She looked a bit shifty that second time. You know how sometimes you have to say things more than once? It was a bit like that. Yeah.

Anyhow, it was time to close things down. To think. Like a brick through the windows of her argument, you know. And there were all these vegetables I was trying to carry with me, too; it was kind of difficult. Not that I'm complaining. I mean, I'm not complaining or anything. Heck no.
"So," I said – there might have been some pointing involved, too – "if you're right, then why do I keep running out of ice cubes?"
"Right about what?"
"Aha! You just asked me a question! Does that mean I win?"

"No," she told me. "And that's why I still have all your old Metallica albums. Now hand over the vegetables and get out of here."

So it's like, every week it's something like this. Forget about it.

Next time I'll bring something sharp.

What I Did On My Lunch Break

Dentist came in slinking, low and sneezy. I've been talking to your teeth. That's what she said, I think like I'm pretty sure. So okay? Your teeth are good. Very good. No decay, or, other bad things of any descrip', it's all sweet without the bad sweet. No cavities. Nothing else. I looked at the whiteness and it shone, it shone like gold. Smooth and supple. I leaned in close and the mirror reflected only perfection. Like, honest. The saliva glistened. Alive. The calcium was so firm and solid, the structure so perfect, the balance! Oh lord the balance was sacred. Like geometry of pyramids, or crop circles or broken angels tinkling into a whiskey bottle. Oh it was delicious. Your teeth are awesome. Seriously, I love them. I think about them at night. I lie there in the dark, and there's something that feels so right. I curl up under the blanket and I'm going to recommend no change to your current dental regimen. Perfection is. Don't worry about it, yeah. Your teeth are awesome.

Okay'm, I said. No fillings then.

No way man, said dentist. I lifted her fingers out of my mouth and collapsed next to the chair. That's okay, I was sleepy anyway. The next morning I caught my teeth writing a farewell letter, or it might have been a suicide note – I didn't read it more than once. I tossed it into the fire and showed my teeth the back of my hand. How dare you! I said. It was a rhetorical question. If you wrote it down, you wouldn't even put a question mark at the end. My teeth started weeping. I found them hiding in the attic later that night. It was pretty dark, but I'm pretty sure that's who it was. They seemed kind of busy, so I decided not to disturb them.

The next day, the dentist was back in my mouth again. I tried to remove her fingers but it wasn't as easy this time. There were more of them, so it took longer. So maybe it wasn't less easy, it was just more, like time-consuming? Whatever. Totally sick of the dentist. I told her, seriously, I'm pretty sure this consultation was over a short while ago. But she was all like yeah but, housecalls and chalk dissolving in milk and there's teeth cancer going around, kids want the pox but the sick shop was all out so they gave them the teeth cancer instead. At a discount, though? I went to the shop but then my lunch break was over so I had to stop

Out Of (The) Loop(s)

Hoo-hah.

It's been a while, huh? But here am I, finally back in and/or at my home. Detravelled and unenholidayed. Utterly prepared to type, once again. So what happened while I was gone? Apparently: economic disasters, sporting triumphs, weather, &c. There was some music, I think? I've been feeling kind of weird, all week.

And now it's October. The octopic month. This means that I have only a few months left of 2008 in which to finish writing that great epic novel of mine, find a real job, eat something really delicious for lunch...

Wait a minute, it's already half past two in the afternoon! Too late for lunch!

TOO LATE!

No worries. And speaking of where I am: I'm actually in two minds as to where to go with this blog from here. I certainly don't want to abandon it, but I'm not sure I can give it the attention it really needs while I'm still trying to finish my aforementioned book. ("Great epic novel" = possible misnomer). But if I don't use this blog to actually (and regularly) do something, then it will never be the kind of blog which people actually read. The lazy blogger's catch-22.

Solution: attempt to continue with both endeavours. Just as before. But prioritise the book, because it needs to be finished before 2010 in order to preserve my pride and sanity.

Interpretation: no actual or apparent change.

Hey, am I using this blog entry to talk myself through a personal life matter? That's not what blogs are for! Hecks. What do we say to that sort of malarkey, jungle lady?

Damn right.

--Thoapsl needs a better-sounding pseudonym