Monday, December 31, 2007
-Kurt Weller 1995
Friday, December 28, 2007
In this world the nightclubs are friendly and youth oriented. There is no seedy underbelly that would ever imagine hurting Janet.
Monday, December 24, 2007
She stated that placing an X in lieu of Christ was a blasphemy.
Friday, December 21, 2007
I know I have been a tad M.I.A. over the past month but I promise that I will get back to my more frequent schedule of seven-day-a-week outpourings!
Hope to see you all at 20,000!
*The 10,000 count is based on individual IP address hits to this site. Whether or not this represents 10,000 exclusive souls is difficult to ascertain. But I'll take it.
the night air is cut by the beautiful copper element
not oxidized but it will be soon
this is the property of copper anemia
he is all of our hopes and the only thing standing between
the thing between the only
the Copper Scarf
This is the sidestory
This is the prequel
This is the story of 'Deadline' Bob before his return to Ann Arbor in 1978.
This is the story of his exploits in the year of our lord 1991.
This is part of the riddle.
Have you figured it out yet?
Thursday, December 20, 2007
POtM's 'If It Were Up To Me' Series Part One:
I'll Take My Solaris Remake with a Touch of Alexander Please.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Sunday, December 23rd marks the triumphal return of Greg Duffell and Daniel Besharat and the International Connection Radio Show to Toronto radio after a fourteen month forced absence. As a result of a mediation session this past Friday with CKLN, Greg and Daniel's lawsuit with the station was settled under terms that we will provide to you in the New Year.
Greg and Daniel wish to thank all listeners and friends for the amazing support that they have provided and we hope you will tune in on the 23rd at 8:30 am. Best wishes to everyone for a great 2008.
with Greg Duffell and Daniel Besharat
Sundays 8:30 - 10:30 am
88.1 FM Toronto
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Kurt Weller's 1985 Cockroach Armor idea may finally be vindicated at the Harry Keeler Annual Short Story Competition!
In 1985 my biology teacher refused to answer me when I asked him if it would be possible to construct cockroach armor to help stop a lethal dose of radiation from an atomic bomb blast.
He looked at me and then looked away. He did it in a deliberately slow and contemptuous manner.
He soon after quit teaching.
Several years later, when I was a Compact Disc Hock-Jock at a local record store, he came in with a stunningly beautiful African-American woman. She was at least a head taller than he and looked as though this was a blind date. He was bald and had a thick Cop Mustache. I gave him the nod and he nodded back. He couldn't seem to place me.
'How have you been Coach?'
'Pretty well,' he stammered nervously.
'Last night I dreamed that in fifteen years I am going to write a short story version of my Cockroach Armor idea and it is going to win the annual Imitate Harry Keeler award,' I said to him, 'I will not remember this moment again until I discover Harry Keeler nor will I have thought of the armor but it will flood back to me at the right moment.'
He looks at his date and then looks away, heading for the R&B.
'Maybe you should head that way coach,' I said, gesturing towards the easy listening section, 'Manilow is on sale for the rest of the month.'
His date looked back with a broad smile and a wink.
On November 24th I found this post at PCL Link Dump:
HARRY STEPHEN KEELER (1890-1967) is one of the strangest writers who ever lived. In his time, he was pegged as a mystery novelist who also wrote some science fiction. Today, if you've heard of him at all, it's as the Ed Wood of mystery novelists, a writer reputed to be so bad he's good.
Some typical Keeler situations:
*A man is found strangled to death in the middle of a lawn, yet there are no footprints other than his own. Police suspect the "Flying Strangler-Baby," a killer midget who disguises himself as a baby and stalks victims by helicopter. (X. Jones of Scotland Yard, 1936)
*A disgruntled phone company employee calls every man in Minneapolis, telling him the morning papers will name him as the secret husband of convicted murderess Jemimah Cobb, who runs a whorehouse specializing in women with physical abnormalities. (The Man With the Magic Eardrums, 1939)
I followed the link to the Harry Stephen Keeler Society and discovered the aforementioned Imitate Harry Keeler Award that I had dreamed about in 1992.
There will be an update.
I'm standing right here people...
This image is inserted into frame in which the friends are standing outside of the coffee shop. This occurs on page one of the deadline bob story arch.
I have since decided that the first version of the Deadline Bob story was inappropriate for the printed medium. Eventually I would like to see the Deadline Bob story in print form. Deadline bob has a new face and the future narrative may be a bit less user-friendly but I trust you will find it more entertaining. I will continue to alter the existing pages and post notes on the progress here.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Stick slowly reached his arm over and placed it around Tracy’s shoulders. She seemed somewhat surprised but let herself sink into him after he did so.
“I’ve always kind of like you too,” she said.
Stick smiled and lightly brushed his lips against her temple. He breathed in the scent of her hair. It was quite strange, smelling strangely chemical. It seemed as though this world was bathed in unnatural substances, he wondered how these people survived it.
She turned her head and slowly faced him. He kissed her gently on the cheek. As she brought her face up to meet his he was suddenly aware of a knocking on the glass window of the projection booth behind him.
Tracy pulled away abruptly and stood up.
“I have to get back to work,” she said apologetically, “after the movie come and find me and maybe we can continue when I get off of work.”
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Stick leaned his head against the car’s window as it took off towards the evening’s festivity. He remembered seeing his grandmother staring at him through the window. She had never seemed more proud of him than at that moment.
The car left the short drive and headed straight underground. Stick began to feel a great difficulty in keeping his eyes opened and drifted off several times before he finally arrived at his destination: an elegant white home near a creek.
An attendant helped Stick out of the vehicle and ushered him into the main hall of the elegant home. Their were several people in attendance, all of them dressed quite well, all of them drinking or smoking.
They all stopped when Stick made his entrance and there was a light round of applause. He smiled vaguely, hoping that he could get home before long. He couldn’t stop thinking about his grandmother. She had made him feel quite uncomfortable, and the thing she had said about helping his mother out had sounded very ominous.
Stick remembered shaking the hands of some eager older men but was already beginning to feel blurry. Before he knew it he was fast asleep and found himself back in his bedroom the next morning.“This will be our little secret,” his grandmother said as she came into the bedroom and opened the curtains.
Monday, November 12, 2007
He could hear the machine’s engine begin to whine when he got to her and without thinking pulled the cube from her head. He cut his fingers deeply on the base of the cube, and his blood mixed with the blood from the large gash in Eleanor’s neck. He realized with horror that he had been a moment too late and that the machine had already made a deep incision all of the way around her neck.
Her body hung limply against his.
“Why did you stop me?” She asked.
He stared at her in disbelief.
“I had no choice,” he said, “do you have any idea of what you are doing.”“Of course I do,” she said, “don’t be silly.”
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
His eyes began to tear up and wiped at them and sat on the toilet. After a long moment he noticed that the tub was becoming dangerously full and ready to overflow at any moment.
He quickly turned off the water and sat back down on the toilet.
A sudden knock at the bathroom door snapped him back into himself and his training took over.
“Hey Stick,” a friendly sounding voice called, “are you going to be long? I have to take a piss.”
“I’m taking a bath,” Stick said cautiously.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Stick began walking back towards King with Anaseth just behind him. She was surprisingly light on her feet, handling the marsh in a much more gingerly manner than he could.
“Have you come across anyone else out here?” Stick asked.
She shook her head, “Just you.”
“It’s strange,” she continued, “I’ve been out here for so long, alone, and it has been sort of crazy but sort of beautiful as well. There is something about this air out here.”
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
He was staring at his ceiling monitor. It was switching between the camera inside of Eleanor’s coffin and Anaseth up on the observation deck. Both women were asleep. Stick was sweating profusely. He reached to his right and opened up the drawer that he kept his meds in.
He took two.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thanksgiving is a typically American holiday...The lavish meal is a symbol of the fact that abundant consumption is the result and reward of production.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
I am pleased to announce that after a short audition period I have been slated to do some voice work in MayFlowerSoapQueen's upcoming The Edge of Sin. I've been told by the director that production will begin soon. I am unsure of which character voice[s] I will be doing but I am very impressed with the newly completed intro and am very flattered to have been invited onboard.
Here is a brief synopsis of the project [from MayFlowerSoapQueen]:
Opening for upcoming campy 2008 Barbie Soap Opera about three matriarchal families in the fictional city of Sunnyside: The Gregg's, the Stone's and The Kerrell's.
Divorcee, Monte-Bella (named after dad Monte and mom Bella) Kerrell runs the family business, KerrellCo Cosmetics. Chief chemist and creator of the company's hottest selling compound, Radondo Number9, Elizabeth Gregg is also Monte-Bella's stepmother and nemesis and primary suspect in M-B's father's disappearance. Kathryn Stone is the go-between among the two rivals while serving up drinks at her bar, The Dock, and trying to keep her past a secret.
Tara and Meghan Gregg - The former takes after her mother while Meghan is innocent and in love with Clark Kerrell and spokesperson for the ravaging disease of Plasticosis, which she suffers from.
Halo Stone is the sometimes deceitful daughter of Kathryn Stone and in love with Dixon Marsh, Sunnyside's best known chiropractor.
Chloe Kerrell is the teenaged daughter of M-B and dating Jenks Scott, her Latin tutor. Brother Adam Kerrell is the black sheep of the family and equally lusting after Elizabeth and Meghan Gregg.
Maya Chando is proprietor of The Spiritual Space, a store filled with religious paraphernalia and natural healing potions. She is dating good guy surfer college student, Jacob Welton. Jason Welton, Jacob's twin brother, is back in town after overdosing on the new club drug "Seaweed" and hooks up with Tara Gregg who uses and abuses Jason in order to help her break up Jacob and Maya, the latter being the true object of her affections.
Stay tuned for more updates!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Anyone who knows me knows that for the past eight years I have been looking for an Open Source alternative to Adobe Photoshop. For me Photoshop has been an excellent tool but to stay caught up with all of its different versions was much too cost-prohibitive.
Well, I'm here to tell you that I have found the solution to my problem with The Gimp.
This software does it all and it does it in my favorite way - fast and friendly! The interface is easy to learn [especially if you are familiar with Photoshop] and as far as plug-ins and other visual effects the sky is the limit!
I made the switch a couple of weeks back and have heard no complaints about the quality or precision of my images so I am confident that I can safely announce that I am a Gimp enthusiast.
Go download yourself the latest version TODAY!
[From the Gimp Site:]
GIMP is the GNU Image Manipulation Program. It is a freely distributed piece of software for such tasks as photo retouching, image composition and image authoring. It works on many operating systems, in many languages.
This is the official GIMP web site. It contains information about downloading, installing, using, and enhancing it. This site also serves as a distribution point for the latest releases. We try to provide as much information about the GIMP community and related projects as possible. Hopefully you will find what you need here. Grab a properly chilled beverage and enjoy.
I am almost convinced that during one of my youthful forays into London Ontario I had heard Gabor's song Metropolitan Life. For those unfamiliar with the amazing Canadian Pop Singer here is a brief introduction:
B. B. Gabor was the stage name of Gabor Hegedus (1948-1990), a Hungarian-born Canadianpop singer. Generally classified as a one-hit wonder, Gabor is best known for his 1980 single "Soviet Jewellery (Nyet, Nyet Soviet)", although he had two other minor hits with "Metropolitan Life", "Consumer" and "Jealous Girls".
Hegedus fled with his parents to England in 1956 after the Soviet invasion of Hungary. He subsequently moved to Canada at age 23, launching his musical career in Toronto's Queen Street West scene.On January 17, 1990, Gabor's body was found by police at his Toronto apartment. His death was ruled a suicide.
I have been experiencing an intense melancholy whenever I listen to his record [and I have been listening to it exclusively for the past few days]. I would like to put out the offer that any amateur spirit mediums who wish to exercise their fledgling talents can feel free to contact the Plaza of the Mind to help me communicate with this extremely talented man. I sincerely want to contact him from the greatest of all the Outer Channels.
Please contact me at Youngweller@gmail.com!
Monday, October 15, 2007
And a mighty king will arise, and he will rule with great authority and do as he pleases. But as soon as he has arisen, his kingdom will be broken up and parceled out toward the four points of the compass, though not to his own descendants, nor according to his authority which he wielded, for his sovereignty will be uprooted and given to others besides them.
Daniel 11: 3-4
Monday, October 08, 2007
This is a project that has been on my back burner for quite some time. If you want to check out our progress go to TOLIVER PBeM.
I have often felt that the game can act as an expression of mood as much as any painting or film. The TOLIVER site will include details of the first campaign as well as the basic rules. If any Plaza readers are interested in embarking on the next campaign, feel free to let me know.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
I guess this is like the marathon for writerly types.
I've signed up to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November.
That means I have to write 1,666 words a day, which is doable, actually.
So be prepared for some insanity - I think I may finally write that Giant Robot epic I've been meaning to do all of these years.
Check out my profile [here].
On November 1, we'll unlock the novel-excerpt and word-count area of your profile. At that point, you'll be able to publicly post your escalating word-count, view your personal stats, and offer a taste of your work-in-progress to your new friends and fans.
Before you head off to begin training those typing fingers, we wanted to offer a few bits of advice. You'll find many great tips in the forums, and we'll be sending weekly pep talks directly to your inbox during November. But for now, here's a quick overview of the three-and-a-half things we wish we had known for our first NaNoWriMo.
1) It's okay to not know what you're doing. Really. You've read a lot of novels, so you're completely up to the challenge of writing one. No plot? No problem! If you feel more comfortable outlining your story ahead of time, absolutely do so. But it's also fine to just wing it. Write everyday, and a book-worthy story will appear, even if you're not sure what that story might be right now.
2) Do not edit as you go. Editing is for December. Think of November as an experiment in pure output. Even if its hard at first, leave ugly prose and poorly written passages on the page to be cleaned up later. Your inner editor will be very grumpy about this, but your inner editor is a nitpicky jerk who foolishly believes that it is possible to write a brilliant first draft if you write it slowly enough. It isn't. Every book you've ever loved started out as a beautifully flawed first draft. In November, embrace imperfection and see where it takes you.
3) Tell everyone you know that you're writing a novel in November. This will pay big dividends in Week Two, when the only thing keeping you from quitting is the fear of looking pathetic in front of all the people who've had to hear about your novel for the past month. Seriously. Email them now about your awesome new book. The looming specter of personal humiliation is a very reliable muse.
3.5) There will be times you'll want to quit during November. This is okay. Everyone who wins NaNoWriMo wanted to quit at some point in November. Stick it out. See it through. Week Two can be hard. Week Three is much better. Week Four will make you want to hug the world.
With great well wishes on the noveling month ahead,
The NaNoWriMo Team
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
As I look over the old images I realize that they must become new images. The images, though digitized, are still maleable. Only now the ink is no longer like ink, it has become like charcoal, only my fingers do not get dirty. I have never liked getting my fingers dirty with pastel or charcoal.
This old image became new. Soon I will forget what the old image ever looked like. The image should undergo an evolution like this, until it has been deemed correct by the creator or alterer. Of course, correct is a completely subjective term. But so is the Plaza of the Mind.
It is my mind. It is subjective. It can be no other way.
I have created thousands of images. They are in a large file setup waiting to be corrected and displayed. Soon all of the images will be corrected. They will come closer and closer to the image that was originally in my mind's eye. When the image transcends print space and enters into the tactile I will know that I was successful.
This image is almost there but it may need more work.
I will not stop until I can no longer continue.
That is my promise to you, and more importantly, to myself.
the best parts of web pages:
From the Outer Channel Mission Statement:
This is the important and the trivial - a distinction that seems to get more and more blurred with every breath I take. I hope you enjoy seeing what interests, inspires and entertains me.
It may also interest those at the Plaza of the Mind to see what gets stopped at the gate and what gets pushed through [albeit usually in a different form].
The Outer Channel
Paul steals some money and runs off to the big city to enjoy the arts until he is discovered and he then kills himself.
I used to be a janitor at a large auditorium at the college. I would stand on the stage and look out at all of the seats and imagine putting on some sort of show.
I had seen a girl perform with her cello on that stage a few years earlier.
There is something to be said for the romance of the talentless Paul, who only wants to surround himself with sensitive artisans, running away from his father though he knows there is no way he will be able to maintain this lifestyle.
That sort of describes University - without the suicide of course, but basically hopeless, romantic and unable to sustain itself.
I feel as though I am peering out of my eyes from deep within a snowy cave.
I interact and everything the same as usual but I think that if anyone were to look carefully they would see that something strange has developed.