Homo Fabula

Synaptic Misfirings of an unpublished author

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Something old...

This is an old spiel I wrote on my laptop some time around the summer of last year in a coffee shop. A meditation on typoes. Enjoy...

Hehe, man I'm witty.
Just to give that some modicum of sense, I just sat down here and thought 'I'll write soemthing'. I figgered it'd be best to let W&B sit for a bit because I'm just getting myself in a tangle there. It's that con, it's just a pants one. Need soemthing better. I should also research betting. or something.
Write. Right. Haha. Typo of the moneth, methinks.
Moneth? Money? I often wonder if there's a hidden wisdom in typoes. Obviously it's a potential window into the soul, the whole 'Freudian slip' complex, but I often wonder if there's something deeper in there. Maybe a form of divination.
inot, as I said earlier/ - i-not? i am not? I am in a knot? Well, I am. Tying myself in knots at the moment with regards a storyt.
earlier/ - a slash is a division, earlier/? A slash through earlier? Maybe the division between waking and sleeping? Nah, too muhc of a leeap. The slash is after earlier, not at earlier. A division, a shattering that took place after earlier, that would be mid-morning. About eleven for me. Shatteirng of understanding.
storyt - stor-ight, story-light? Shedding light on a story? ryt. Writ? Right? Write? Story write? Hmm.,, maybe a divine hint...
muhc is a fairly common typo for me - mook, fool? Poossible. I feel lie a fool 90% of the time.
Lie. Well okay, you've got me, maybe I don't feel like a fool 90% of the time. VBut I am astonished by the foolish ness I come out with at times.
Shatteirng. No idea. But Shattei does sound pretty cool, potential name?
That's a thought - I need to do a little linguistics, to help me figure out names and phrases properly for Shardworld. They're a bit pedestrian as it is.
Those little drape things always annoy me, the kind of strips of cloth you get in front of doorways. Beads make more sense, beads are heavy and they'll fall together and they'll fall off as you walk through. Drapey curtain things though are a bit annoying. Or rather, I thought they were until I saw the way these out the window are kinda shifting in the wind. Looks pretty god, actually.
Ah, idea I ahd: People die and go on to an afterlife, they think it's heaven in the shape of a conglomerate and the hly trinity are these kinda figures from beyond who you never see. Except it's not real, the holy trinity aren't actually there, and it's all a big con developed by people who assumed the trinity must be there. Or something.
That's interesting, when I thought 'Looks pretty god' I then went on to write a kinda psuedo-anti-christian synopsis.
ahd. Aid. Maybe suggesting this will help?
hly. huhly. Holly. Christmas? What the hell does that have to dow ith anything?
dow. That's a kind of boat in india isn't it? Michael Palin wen ton one once I'm sure of it.
Ah, Micheal Palin. He's going to Ottakars you know. Can't wait.
wen ton. When ton? When is a ton? Strange... Tons are measurements, when is a ton doesn't make sense. Where, or possibly why, but not when. Time travel story? Blegh, I don't like Time travel. But then, myabe it'd be a good diea to write one.
Dammit, now I'm writing perfectly.
Gah. Kida. Kids, I mean. Walking past the door. Irritating.
Kida. Kee-da! Guh'resh n'gor kida! o'ran trik'nash!
Or soemthing.
soemthing. soem so-em. Liike, soooo Em.
Ugh. I think I've given myself a hedache. It's this annoying woman yibbering on to my left, an irritating natter into her phone. Sound overly angsty. A man sits opposite her. I guess she was talking to him, but she's talking into her phone. The man sits staring at the table. I haven't seen him move yet. Maybe he's stuffed. That'd be interesting, if a little creepy. But then, as Tod would say, a woman who keeps her stuffed husband around is clichesville. To quoth el Tod.
I need to do more blogging. ?HAve to become angsty and self obsessed. Proper writer. Raah. ?Have? A question as to wether I ahve not not? Don't question me, fate! I know the truth, I must become all self obssessed to truly be a great writer. Right?
Well, Neil Gaiman doesn't seem to be, and he's sorta the definition of great writing. Not self obsession.
This is interesting stuff. I'll distil it and stick it on my blog. Then I'll make an angsty mix tape and brood in the corner, possibly with my sword. I need an uncompromisingly big or otherwise characteristic sword. I guess the celtic is a good one, ut it's only a shortsword. Not really eyecatching, not like a buster or gunblade or brotherhood. Brotherhood's a nice sword. All shiny and blue.
Ooh, didn't know you could Alt-tab in win 3.11...


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