Scene: The four musicians and the intern sit in the room talking.
Intern Adams
What words were you using earlier? I didn't understand them.
John
You mean the counterpoint of the surrealism of the underlying metaphor?
Intern Adams
The...what?
George
Stop it. Just tell im.
Intern Adams
Tell me....what?
Paul
Look, there was this alien signal and it like told a lot of things but they only got radio signals a hundred years ago.
John
So they think that the British Empire is still the most powerful government on Earth
Ringo
It's Hilarious.
John
I just imaging if we had no
Ringo
Yeah yeah. We all know. We've heard it before.
Intern Adams
Is there some kind of...manual for this? Like where its written down?
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
[Heliotrope] It the Blue Fairy Time to Get it Right
Everyone has heard of the little wooden boy who became real and lived with his lovely father Gepetto. Jape....I am too lazy to google the name of the Itallian Puppeteer who got eaten by a whale. And while we're at it, remind me to tell you the real story of what he did to piss off the whale enough to eat him. No, not literally right now, I mean another time. Whales generally don't just go eating people you know, especially big ones, and last time I checked aint' no bible chapter about the great prophet Gillato. Gape...gil....
So anyway the Blue Fairy. There once lived an old man who was a maker of butter churns. He was the finest maker of butter churns in the land. Now, understand that this is a colloquialism becuase land is relative when there are a thousand little kingdoms, so he was in fact the only butter churn maker in the land, but was actually a remarkably good butter churn maker and did it better than anyone else in a two hundred mile radius but the finest butter churn maker in a two hundred mile radius doesn't sound very fairy tale like, does it? You see? It takes time to get these things right.
Anyway, the butter churn maker had a passion for sculpting. He started with soft butter, and eventually moved to wood. The forest near him was infested with noxious butter eating termites though so these proved poor materials with which to learn to sculpt. Thus, he eventually turned to stone. He started making faces, and then worked with other materials. He eventually began making artistic stone butter churns, and was known throughout the land (200 mile radius). He grew quite rich but as time is want to do, he grew old. Granted, immortal creatures don't...but humans still do. Stop distracting me.
He grew lonely in his old age, and sought to have a child with a local maid. Alas, he smelled for bathing was something he considered a somewhat optional activity. So the rich but lonely butter churn maker looked for a shallow bimbo throughout the land who would sell herself for coin and he found one but alas, though he loved her, she was not capable of having a child. This, and the fact that...let's just say that the butter churn maker was somewhat ignorant of what it actually took to make a child and the shallow bimbo was willing to let it stay that way soooo..
Eventually, she grew bored and left. This made the butter churn maker very sad. So he began to make a super super realistic butter churn, pouring his whole life into the butter churn that was shaped like a boy, wishing on the great northern star that his little stone butter churn boy would come to life.
And then he died.
The blue fairy, arriving five minutes too late, felt sad and wept tears of bitter procrastination. They fell onto the little stone butter churn boy, granting him life. She swore that the next time she would get it right, and left. The poor stone butter churn boy was left alone and confused in the world, entirely unknowning of the great sacrifice that his father had made to bring him to life. But the Blue Fairy is a bit...confused. I mean, let's face it, her hobby is granting inanimate objects life and it only occurred to her later to give the things she animated some kind of a purpose.
But that is another story.
So anyway the Blue Fairy. There once lived an old man who was a maker of butter churns. He was the finest maker of butter churns in the land. Now, understand that this is a colloquialism becuase land is relative when there are a thousand little kingdoms, so he was in fact the only butter churn maker in the land, but was actually a remarkably good butter churn maker and did it better than anyone else in a two hundred mile radius but the finest butter churn maker in a two hundred mile radius doesn't sound very fairy tale like, does it? You see? It takes time to get these things right.
Anyway, the butter churn maker had a passion for sculpting. He started with soft butter, and eventually moved to wood. The forest near him was infested with noxious butter eating termites though so these proved poor materials with which to learn to sculpt. Thus, he eventually turned to stone. He started making faces, and then worked with other materials. He eventually began making artistic stone butter churns, and was known throughout the land (200 mile radius). He grew quite rich but as time is want to do, he grew old. Granted, immortal creatures don't...but humans still do. Stop distracting me.
He grew lonely in his old age, and sought to have a child with a local maid. Alas, he smelled for bathing was something he considered a somewhat optional activity. So the rich but lonely butter churn maker looked for a shallow bimbo throughout the land who would sell herself for coin and he found one but alas, though he loved her, she was not capable of having a child. This, and the fact that...let's just say that the butter churn maker was somewhat ignorant of what it actually took to make a child and the shallow bimbo was willing to let it stay that way soooo..
Eventually, she grew bored and left. This made the butter churn maker very sad. So he began to make a super super realistic butter churn, pouring his whole life into the butter churn that was shaped like a boy, wishing on the great northern star that his little stone butter churn boy would come to life.
And then he died.
The blue fairy, arriving five minutes too late, felt sad and wept tears of bitter procrastination. They fell onto the little stone butter churn boy, granting him life. She swore that the next time she would get it right, and left. The poor stone butter churn boy was left alone and confused in the world, entirely unknowning of the great sacrifice that his father had made to bring him to life. But the Blue Fairy is a bit...confused. I mean, let's face it, her hobby is granting inanimate objects life and it only occurred to her later to give the things she animated some kind of a purpose.
But that is another story.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 4
Agent Chwech
Well, I'll leave you lot to it then.
He leaves.
Scene
Agent Chwech walks down a long white hall. There is a white table. The decorations are white or at least light in color. The door is black with a black doornob.
He reaches for the doornob.
Closeup of the doornob as his hand turns it.
Scene
Esme Euphrasia sits behind a classic desk, with a literal 'in' box full of paper work on one side, and an 'out' box on the other side. Both are filled with papers. Every few seconds, she picks up a piece of paper and stamps it with one of five or six stamps and an inkwell. She never looks at the papers, but the motion is deliberate. As the camera angle moves about the room, from time to time, a pair of hands in black sleeves put a new pile of paper in the in box and take some of the papers in the old box. The hands are the only thing that is seen, never the body and at most a black sleeved or clad arm. Faint smoke wafts in the room though Esme is never seen smoking.
Agent Chwech
They're doing quite well.
Director Euphrasia
Bollocks. They doing nothing of the sort.
Agent Chwech
Do you think they're stalling?
Director Euphrasia
I think so. Can't prove it, and them being them we can't just make em disappear. They keep doing well enough that I can't just sack them and find another more plaint group.
Agent Chwech
And pliance is important is it?
Director Euphrasia
Watch your tone with me. I don't care how bright a star you think you are. This is the most important thing we've done in twenty years.
Agent Chwech
It's alien contact. More like the history of the species.
Director Euphrasia
There is a war on. There is more at stake here than just a bunch of nonsense from flying saucers.
Well, I'll leave you lot to it then.
He leaves.
Scene
Agent Chwech walks down a long white hall. There is a white table. The decorations are white or at least light in color. The door is black with a black doornob.
He reaches for the doornob.
Closeup of the doornob as his hand turns it.
Scene
Esme Euphrasia sits behind a classic desk, with a literal 'in' box full of paper work on one side, and an 'out' box on the other side. Both are filled with papers. Every few seconds, she picks up a piece of paper and stamps it with one of five or six stamps and an inkwell. She never looks at the papers, but the motion is deliberate. As the camera angle moves about the room, from time to time, a pair of hands in black sleeves put a new pile of paper in the in box and take some of the papers in the old box. The hands are the only thing that is seen, never the body and at most a black sleeved or clad arm. Faint smoke wafts in the room though Esme is never seen smoking.
Agent Chwech
They're doing quite well.
Director Euphrasia
Bollocks. They doing nothing of the sort.
Agent Chwech
Do you think they're stalling?
Director Euphrasia
I think so. Can't prove it, and them being them we can't just make em disappear. They keep doing well enough that I can't just sack them and find another more plaint group.
Agent Chwech
And pliance is important is it?
Director Euphrasia
Watch your tone with me. I don't care how bright a star you think you are. This is the most important thing we've done in twenty years.
Agent Chwech
It's alien contact. More like the history of the species.
Director Euphrasia
There is a war on. There is more at stake here than just a bunch of nonsense from flying saucers.
Monday, February 1, 2016
[Naked City] The following piece is written for Naked City with the theme of "Oblivion"
Hello there from another world. I'm Rhombus Ticks. The voice you hear is not my own, but it wasn't when I read to you before. TC, my regular host, is located in Miami, while Len has agreed to read this piece to you. I shall endevor to be a gentleman while here.
Oblivion.
[Pause]
Alright, now pretend I just filled five minutes with awkward silence. That was my first idea. And as much as it appealed to me, the recent podcast I did not do that involved nothing but numbers pushed the envelope enough for my tastes for a while, so I thought I'd speak about something else. The space between worlds. I write a lot about Fairy or Terra or Wonderbreadland but one doesn't simply wander to the nearest bus and order a ticket back and forth.
The moon is so far away it takes a second for light to travel there. That means that if you look at a piano falling on some jerk blocking you in traffic, an astronaut on the moon with a really powerful telescope wouldn't see it fall on the guy until a second later. It takes fourteen minutes to see it with a magic telescope (because let's be honest that would have to be one damn big telescope, or maybe a telescope linked to an ipad or something) anyway, that guy on mars wouldn't see the piano fall for fourteen minutes. That takes a full year for it to reach Alpha Centauri.
The gaps between atoms and sub atomic particles are even more staggering in their own way. So much space between everything but it doesn't even hold a candle to the space between what you consider real and what you consider merely fictional. I mean, metaphorically it is right next door, a heart beat away but all interesting uses of chemistry aside, Sauron isn't going to be playing golf on the course tomorrow morning with....well, you know. People. On your world. Who are the kind of people who would likely hang out with Sauron.
You know.
Anyway, where was I? Time breaks down here. The very concept of space, the thing that you share in common with a sun or a black hole or the farthest bit of light in the sky, so far that it goes to the edge of your ever expanding universe. Your dreams are with you every day but they are also farther than the beginning of time itself. No wonder so many obsess about death. When entropy claims us, there is only the memory and the dream of what was. Is there an afterlife? There is here, but there? Its a grayer area. And whether or not you believe it real, for practical purposes its as far away as I am.
Oblivion. It's a hell of a thing to overcome, but there are tricks. Journals. Stone monuments, astral projection. You know. Find creative ways to work around it. Because despite the distance between you and the impossible, I speak from experience when I say that exploration of it is worth it.
That's all. Good night.
Oblivion.
[Pause]
Alright, now pretend I just filled five minutes with awkward silence. That was my first idea. And as much as it appealed to me, the recent podcast I did not do that involved nothing but numbers pushed the envelope enough for my tastes for a while, so I thought I'd speak about something else. The space between worlds. I write a lot about Fairy or Terra or Wonderbreadland but one doesn't simply wander to the nearest bus and order a ticket back and forth.
The moon is so far away it takes a second for light to travel there. That means that if you look at a piano falling on some jerk blocking you in traffic, an astronaut on the moon with a really powerful telescope wouldn't see it fall on the guy until a second later. It takes fourteen minutes to see it with a magic telescope (because let's be honest that would have to be one damn big telescope, or maybe a telescope linked to an ipad or something) anyway, that guy on mars wouldn't see the piano fall for fourteen minutes. That takes a full year for it to reach Alpha Centauri.
The gaps between atoms and sub atomic particles are even more staggering in their own way. So much space between everything but it doesn't even hold a candle to the space between what you consider real and what you consider merely fictional. I mean, metaphorically it is right next door, a heart beat away but all interesting uses of chemistry aside, Sauron isn't going to be playing golf on the course tomorrow morning with....well, you know. People. On your world. Who are the kind of people who would likely hang out with Sauron.
You know.
Anyway, where was I? Time breaks down here. The very concept of space, the thing that you share in common with a sun or a black hole or the farthest bit of light in the sky, so far that it goes to the edge of your ever expanding universe. Your dreams are with you every day but they are also farther than the beginning of time itself. No wonder so many obsess about death. When entropy claims us, there is only the memory and the dream of what was. Is there an afterlife? There is here, but there? Its a grayer area. And whether or not you believe it real, for practical purposes its as far away as I am.
Oblivion. It's a hell of a thing to overcome, but there are tricks. Journals. Stone monuments, astral projection. You know. Find creative ways to work around it. Because despite the distance between you and the impossible, I speak from experience when I say that exploration of it is worth it.
That's all. Good night.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 3
Scene Returns to the interrogation.
INTERN ADAMS
So....wait? Aliens? Really?
AGENT CHWECH
Queen's honor.
INTERN ADAMS
What...really?
AGENT CHWECH
Really.
INTERN ADAMS
You're not just pulling my leg because I'm the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
Come on, let me take you to meet the band.
INTERN ADAMS
The Beattles?
(Agent Chwech laughs)
Scene: The two of them go through a door into the recording studio.
JOHN
I think you're getting the Fedopala a bit short.
PAUL
Close but it needs some Schlip.
INTERN ADAMS
(whispering to AGENT CHWECH)
What?
RINGO
Hello. Who's the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
This is agent Adams. He's here to help you sus out what you're working on.
Everyone says hello.
INTERN ADAMS
So....wait? Aliens? Really?
AGENT CHWECH
Queen's honor.
INTERN ADAMS
What...really?
AGENT CHWECH
Really.
INTERN ADAMS
You're not just pulling my leg because I'm the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
Come on, let me take you to meet the band.
INTERN ADAMS
The Beattles?
(Agent Chwech laughs)
Scene: The two of them go through a door into the recording studio.
JOHN
I think you're getting the Fedopala a bit short.
PAUL
Close but it needs some Schlip.
INTERN ADAMS
(whispering to AGENT CHWECH)
What?
RINGO
Hello. Who's the new guy?
AGENT CHWECH
This is agent Adams. He's here to help you sus out what you're working on.
Everyone says hello.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
[Heliotrope] Time and Fairy Tales
So of course Fairy Tales are much older than expected. It goes without saying that magical beings that are outside of time are going to have a lifestyle that doesn't match common understanding. The fact is, Fairies are dangerous creatures that life outside of time, but there are many that are far more human like than not. The key is understanding which. The more powerful the fairy, the less comprehensible it is. A Fairy Queen or royalty with human blood are practically human. Order and Chaos, who interact with humans on a regular basis (albiet as pawns) are alien but somewhat comprehensible.....sometimes. Oberon, Titania and Mab....are older than planets and stars. A human would do well to be cautious around them.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 2
Scene: A wide show of a small conference room with a single table and a swinging lightbulb, but a faint glow comes from one side of the room, though the camera carefully does not show that side yet. Agent Chwech sits with a young man of 17-19 years at the other end of a table.
A small date appears on the side of the screen indicating, "November 27th, 1969."
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why you are here, Intern Adams?
INTERN ADAMS
Because of my article in the Eagle?
AGENT CHWECH
That's right, but do you know what you are here, FOR?
INTERN ADAMS
I...don't. And wasn't MI-8?
AGENT CHWECH
Retired. After the war. Merged. Yes, it was. We brought it back.
INTERN ADAMS
OK?
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why?
INTERN ADAMS
Um. No.
AGENT CHWECH
Good. If you did we'd likely have to kill you. Do you believe in aliens?
INTERN ADAMS
Like...Martians?
AGENT CHWECH
Oh much farther than that. Alpha Centauri.
INTERN ADAMS
What, like the star?
AGENT CHWECH
Exactly. Small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. And they have left us with an enigma, wrapped in a riddle something something something. We want your help working it out.
Scene: Wide pan 90 degrees to a one way mirror with JOHN, PAUL, RINGO and GEORGE in a recording studio, looking frustrated.
A small date appears on the side of the screen indicating, "November 27th, 1969."
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why you are here, Intern Adams?
INTERN ADAMS
Because of my article in the Eagle?
AGENT CHWECH
That's right, but do you know what you are here, FOR?
INTERN ADAMS
I...don't. And wasn't MI-8?
AGENT CHWECH
Retired. After the war. Merged. Yes, it was. We brought it back.
INTERN ADAMS
OK?
AGENT CHWECH
Do you know why?
INTERN ADAMS
Um. No.
AGENT CHWECH
Good. If you did we'd likely have to kill you. Do you believe in aliens?
INTERN ADAMS
Like...Martians?
AGENT CHWECH
Oh much farther than that. Alpha Centauri.
INTERN ADAMS
What, like the star?
AGENT CHWECH
Exactly. Small, furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. And they have left us with an enigma, wrapped in a riddle something something something. We want your help working it out.
Scene: Wide pan 90 degrees to a one way mirror with JOHN, PAUL, RINGO and GEORGE in a recording studio, looking frustrated.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Whither Blimps?
On Earth, every time you see a hint of something involving an alternate world, you see airships. Now think about this. It might be a striking visual. And, I mean if some insane person from 1800 went into a coma saw the next 200 years and tried to rewrite history in his image then, sure, blimps would make sense. But some things are pretty likely to happen; when you take hydrogen and put it in a thing that floats up in the air without some pretty advanced technology, you're going to get a fire. The USS Taft Disaster, was just bound to happen. That's why Terra doesn't have airships either. In fact, we didn't even have the good year blimp. Just bad luck. Though, curious side note, we don't have the weird triskedescaphobia you have. We have a 13th floor. I mean, sure, there are SOME people with the fear of 13, just like there are some people that are afraid of bats, or dogs or horses. You have them. We have them. We just don't let it affect our architecture.
Another example, remember the Republic of Texas? (Sorry...as of last week, it's the State of Texas again, for at least a year or two until they decide to secede again) Well, as crazy as they might sound to you, they also did something smart. Smarter even than your North Dakota. In your world, your Norway has something called the Sovereign Wealth fund. It's huge and as a result Norway is rich. Well, that doesn't hold a candle to the Texas Holdem Fund. Sam Houston died four years later in our reality, and thus all the oil discovered on state land went to an independent commission that even a hundred and fifty years of mostly crazy governors hasn't been able to screw up. How do you think they can afford to keep going to war with the most powerful nation on Terra?
Still, lots of things I like about your world. We got Netscape two years later, and while it is the dominant browser here, two years of internet is huge...we're more like five years behind you in IT. Except for our liquid transparent displays. All those high tech government facilities you see in the movies? We really have them because those neat gleaming lights are really the cheapest alternative. Even cheaper than the 20 year old monitors your government uses (when you factor in electricity.)
Truth really is stranger than fiction.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Thursday, January 21, 2016
[Script] Revolution Number Eight - Page 1
Cast:
Intern Adams: A young Douglas Adams having recently written a nationally award winning essay has been inducted into an MI8 to examine the Alien Signal.
Agent Chwech: Mi8 agent in charge of liasoning with VIPs
Director Esme Euphrasia: Mi8 Director in charge of finding...alternative uses for the signal.
John: Writer, Singer, popular musician in a well known band.
Ringo: Drummer in a well known band.
Paul: Writer, Singer, popular musician in a well known band.
George: Guitarist, writer, popular musician in a well known band.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
[Heliotrope] What they got right
Consider if you will the whimsical mention of Balbus the Badger and the Little Tin Teapot. In their original stories, Balbus the Badger is visited by the Three Mice that See, and he proceeds to tell them the wisdom of accepting their lot in life. Mr Kind thanked him and nodded, walking on. Mr. Right told him that was balderdash and that there were clearly moments in life where you had to change things and then just ended the conversation entirely. No one knows what Mr Necessary said but Mr Necessary and Balbus the badger are not speaking of it. Though a meticulous tracking of the descriptions of Balbus before and after the incident hint that the scar he had under his left eye only existed after. Was this a case of Mr Necessary not liking what he had heard? Was it him? Likely yes, but such a reaction seems even extreme for him. We'll never know. The Little Tin Teapot is best known for the famous tempest that sometimes lived inside of his walls. From time to time, the teapot would have a vast and powerful storm known as Cumulo Desparo come and dwell inside him, often during the winter months when he found it quite cold. The problem with this is was at least nine incidents of someone picking up the teapot at some fair or the other, paying good money for it, and then getting the shock of their life as gale force winds, thunder and lightning soaked their living room. This happened over and over again so many times it was bordering on the ridiculous. Which is why they clearly kept telling the tale. One might accept that a magical storm swelling teapot might distribute weather accidentally two or three times, but word gets around...even back then.
So when this badger and teapot meet at the wedding of a minor queen despite only very very tenuous connections, one has to wonder. By my estimate, Outer Fairy had at least ten or twenty million inhabitants at the time, and yet here these two are, meeting. It's like obscure 18th century fan fiction. But the book is too well cared for an meticulous for it to be something so simple. Is there a fate? Is there a destiny?
I don't know but an unseen hand is definitely at work.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
[Script] Legacy of Hope - Page 13
Roll Credits.
During Credits show images.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia studying a spell book.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia enjoying ice cream with each other.
Image: Andrasta sending Anastasia off on a school bus.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing more sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia getting a puppy.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia looking at an invasion of UFO's, backs to the camera. Defiant poses.
During Credits show images.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia studying a spell book.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia enjoying ice cream with each other.
Image: Andrasta sending Anastasia off on a school bus.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia practicing more sword play.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia getting a puppy.
Image: Andrasta and Anastasia looking at an invasion of UFO's, backs to the camera. Defiant poses.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Not What I expected
So, the good news is that I'm here, just like TC. What I hadn't expected was such a harsh reaction from EP Blingermeyer, who managed to shut down the Tossing Grenades at Windmills podcast entirely. I guess being rich enough gives you plenty of resources...but I wouldn't have thought it enough to reach to another world I'm still not sure how he physically does it, but he offered to teach me if I stayed with him.
I don't understand this at all. The man had always been quite benevolent before and I hadn't really 'worked' for him in the conventional sense, just living by the bridge and occasionally showing him things four or five times a year. Its not like I had a salary.
So strange.
Miami is an interesting city, full of vibrant people and lovely weather. I miss my swamp though. Well, I miss the way it smells and looks. The cold can go futz itself. Still, it made imagining other places easier. And such places. You can hear the city sing if you listen to it well enough. I'm curious if Emmit has always been able to do this.
I keep meaning to check out Terminus again and will soon. So many interesting stories there, though Miami has them too, even if they are not as cultivated and nutured. Miami is a city of multiple possibilities, of stories to be written. I know that the owners of the shop called it 'magica' but that's just weird to me. Terminus is what everyone calls Atlanta in Terra. Everyone calls Miami Miami.
The book is even more interesting. I'll be sharing more with you as time goes on. I'm still reading it. The thing about it is that there is no explanation whatever as to where it comes from. Who made it. And why?
I don't understand this at all. The man had always been quite benevolent before and I hadn't really 'worked' for him in the conventional sense, just living by the bridge and occasionally showing him things four or five times a year. Its not like I had a salary.
So strange.
Miami is an interesting city, full of vibrant people and lovely weather. I miss my swamp though. Well, I miss the way it smells and looks. The cold can go futz itself. Still, it made imagining other places easier. And such places. You can hear the city sing if you listen to it well enough. I'm curious if Emmit has always been able to do this.
I keep meaning to check out Terminus again and will soon. So many interesting stories there, though Miami has them too, even if they are not as cultivated and nutured. Miami is a city of multiple possibilities, of stories to be written. I know that the owners of the shop called it 'magica' but that's just weird to me. Terminus is what everyone calls Atlanta in Terra. Everyone calls Miami Miami.
The book is even more interesting. I'll be sharing more with you as time goes on. I'm still reading it. The thing about it is that there is no explanation whatever as to where it comes from. Who made it. And why?
Sunday, January 17, 2016
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