Posts Tagged ‘metablogging’

Okay. This is incredibly hard to say.

But it needs saying.

Basically: I’m taking an indefinite break from blogging.

I really don’t want to have to do this, believe me. But at the moment, I’m stretched incredibly thin. I have school, I’m writing two novels, and I’m trying to maintain some fragmented section of a social life– all while trying to maintain two blogs (well, I’ve taken a break from 24-Hour Nothing Hour too, I guess). Which means that something’s gotta give. It’s not going to be socializing, it’s not going to be writing, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be school. So, because of this, I’m taking a break from blogging.

And I don’t know when I’m going to be back.

I’m really sorry about this. I try to make Axolotl Ceviche an interesting place, full of good, funny writing, but lately I’ve felt that my output has suffered. Recently, I’ve noticed a much larger succession of filler posts and tiny little bits of nonsense, and I’m sorry, but that’s not interesting reading. And it’s not interesting to write, either. Which means that I have to take a break.

Relax, Internet. I’m not breaking up with you. I just think that you and I need some time apart. I’m going through a lot of stuff right now, which means that I have to do some… what’s a more manly term for “soul-searching”? “Introspecting”? Yeah, that works.*

Cheesy breakup lines aside, I do need to take a break from blogging for a while. And I don’t know how long that’ll be. I hope to get Axolotl Ceviche 2.0 set up by summertime, but that might not happen. Which means that it may be six months to a year before I’m blogging again.

I don’t want that to happen. But I do need to take a break from blogging for a while. And, so you know that I’m not dead or kidnapped by Gypsies or eloped to Patagonia with James Marsters or anything like that, I’m posting this.

I will be back. This I promise. But it’ll be a while.

Until then,

~ Ian

*joke shamelessly stolen from Commodore Hustle

I hate to make all these “I haven’t been a very good blogger lately” posts off, but here we go:

Sing it with me:

I haven’t been a very good blogger lately. 

A lot of this has to do with internet problems I’ve been having (the Coyote Crossing cohousing web server was haxx0red recently, as the damn kids say, and because of that my internet connection has been… spotty, at best). But much of it has to do with where my creative energy has been going. I’ve got all these ideas for blog posts that I want to write, but about 60% of my creative energy is going into Lotus, and the other 40% is going into Daughter of Flame. Which means that I don’t write the blog posts that I want to write, when I have the time to write. And then there’s classes, and homework, and San Francisco Giants games, and sleep. Beautiful sleep.

I’m sorry about this. Here: as a token of reconciliation, here’s the first draft of the prologue to Daughter of Flame. It might be very different in the end. But it is here anyway.

~ Ian

(Queens of the Stone Age, “Song for the Dead”)

 

Daughter of Flame: Loki 1

He walked across the desert, naked in the burning sun.

It didn’t burn his skin. He was a being of fire, after all, and a little heat wouldn’t be enough to burn him. In ages long past, he had danced in the hydrogen-fusion flames of the sun, done the backstroke in magma chambers at the earth’s heart, raised his mouth to the sky and laughed as lightning burned vast northern forests to the ground.

It wasn’t the heat that bothered him. It was the light.

His eyes were accustomed to the darkness of Niflheim. Twelve hundred years in the freezing cold beneath the earth (with only a meager break of a month, nearly eighteen years ago, and what a break that had been), and his eyes were light-sensitive. Even moreso, because of the snake’s venom, constantly dripping into his eyes.

Step after step, over the hard-baked, griddle-hot ground, he walked.

The man was tall. Eight feet tall, and thin. When he’d been young, he’d reminded those who saw him of a bundle of sticks hastily cobbled together into the shape of a man. He walked hunched over, but even that couldn’t conceal the fact of his height. (Even so, he was considered a runt among his kind…) The skin on his arms and chest and back was ghost-pale and freckled, with pale tan patches the size of thumbprints dappling his body, and covered in fine blonde hairs almost too light to be seen.

His hair was the bright red-orange color of a wildfire.

His eyes were the dark yellow of topazes.

Around his mouth, like a ring of mushrooms or standing stones, were a series of tiny piercings, as regular and evenly spaced as if they’d been sewn there.

He had many names, and gathered them like a dragon gathers jewels. In days of old, men called him the Skywalker, the Smith of Lies, the Mother of Serpents, Baldur’s Bane, the Betrayer.

He was Loki, god of chaos and flame.

And he was free.

***

Eventually, as Loki walked, the sun began to die in the west. Just before it sank below the horizon, he came to a road that cut arrow-straight across the desert, from east to west. Not much of a road, just a two-lane highway, lined by a barbed-wire fence and a row of telephone poles, wire strung between them like a clothesline.

There were two ravens sitting on the barbed-wire fence, watching him. They were as big as dogs, and as black as the void of space.

Loki smiled when he saw them.

“I see you there,” he said. “Don’t think you two can hide.”

The ravens just watched him impassively, as only ravens can.

“Now, I’m going to give a warning to you,” he said. “You’re gonna go back to old Glad-of-War and tell him. I’m off to Jotunheim. I mean to end it now. I’m just passing through at the moment, but when I do return, you better believe it’s gonna be at the helm of a ship built of dead men’s nails.

“And, just to be clear that I mean business…”

He reached out, as quick as an eyeblink, and grabbed one of the ravens by the neck. It kawed in protest, almost more annoyed than afraid.

Loki brought the raven to his mouth, and opened it wide. His jaw distended as if it were made of rubber. His mouth was full of sharp, sharp teeth.

He casually tossed the raven in. There was the sickening crunch of gristle and bone as he chewed, and then swallowed in one gulp.

“That’s what the All-father will get, when I’m done with him,” said Loki. “Just to make things more interesting, tell you what: I’ll be in the land of ice and fire. Gathering my power. Tell Odin that he’ll find me there, if he can’t resist a challenge. If I know him at all, and I do, he’ll come galloping into battle.”

And Loki turned away from the raven. “Well, what are you waiting for? Fly away, little bird.”

There was the sound of wings behind him. Loki didn’t turn around to watch the raven leave.

Far off on the highway, there was the roar of an engine, and a cloud of dust. Loki stuck out his thumb.

A white sports car with the top down came roaring up at ninety miles an hour, and pulled to a stop in front of Loki. The driver was a man in a black leather jacket, with mirrored sunglasses.

“Damn,” he said, whistling. “How’d you lose your clothes?”

“Long story,” Loki said. “Nice car.”

The man grinned. Not particularly bright, thought Loki. Good. “Yeah. Good eye.”

“Fuel-injected V10 engine, molded aluminum chassis, seven hundred brake horsepower, can go from zero to sixty in just four-point-six seconds.”

“Yeah. She’s a beautiful machine.”

“She is indeed,” Loki murmured. “Give her to me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Your car. And your clothes.”

The man threw up his hands. “Hey, man, if you think I’m gonna give you my car, you must be out of your mind.”

“Yes,” said Loki. “I am.”

And he snapped his fingers.

The man burst into flame.

Loki watched as the man slowly burned, screaming, fat and muscle going up in flames, bones cracking with heat, hair sending clouds of noxious black smoke into the evening desert sky. Strangely enough, his clothing didn’t burn.

Loki waited until the man was nothing but a pile of gray ash, and then opened the car door, took out the man’s clothes, and put them on.

The man had been tall, but he’d still been a couple feet shorter than Loki. No matter. Loki took hold of the force of Chaos, and stretched the clothes until they fit him perfectly.

Loki put on the sunglasses, and sat behind the wheel of the convertible. It was now matte-black, with red-orange flames curling along the sides.

“It’s been a while,” said Loki.

He put his foot down on the exhaust. The car’s tires squealed, and the exhaust blasted gouts of blue fire.

He was free now. The world had been without him for too long.

Time for a little chaos.

So, after resisting it for about a year, I’ve finally decided to get a tumblr.

This is something that I’ve been thinking of doing for a while, now. I guess you could call it “Ian jumping forward into a blog type that is used by people under the age of 30”, if you were feeling cynical. Not that there’s anything wrong with WordPress– it just didn’t seem suited for what I wanted to do with Blog #2.

So, what did I want to do with the new blog? Well, I’ve always kind of fantasized about being a radio DJ/podcaster/vlogger-type person, and while I don’t have the training required to be a DJ, or the time to really maintain a podcast or a vlog, I still wanted to do something that would:

1. allow me to share some of my favorite music with the world, and

2. not take a lot of effort.

So, I decided: what takes less effort than taking a song posted on YouTube and reblogging it on Tumblr?

LAZINESS ACHIEVED!

That’s what 24-Hour Nothing Hour is about. It’s sort of my own personal radio station, where I can post the music that I like, and maybe share introduce some people to that music. I’m going to be trying to update it daily, and if you want, you can request a song from the DJ (that is, me).

Be aware, though, that 24-Hour Nothing Hour is not Axolotl Ceviche. I’m very public about who I am on Axolotl Ceviche, for one thing, and I think you all have a pretty good idea of who I am and what I’m doing with my life based on this. 24-Hour Nothing Hour is different. I won’t be talking about myself on there. I won’t be sharing my thoughts on things, or stuff that happened in my day-to-day life, or any of my writing. That’s not what 24-Hour Nothing Hour is about. It’s not about me, but the incredible music, and I’m going to reflect that in the writing style that I use there. I tend to be snarky and rambly on Axolotl Ceviche. On 24-Hour Nothing Hour, I’m going to be much more terse and laconic, reflecting the more anonymized style that I’m going to be using there.

Axolotl Ceviche’s not going anywhere, of course. Axolotl Ceviche and 24-Hour Nothing Hour are both two very different side projects, and it wouldn’t make sense for me to turn one into the other. If anything, I’ll probably be posting fewer YouTube videos of songs and things on Axolotl Ceviche. I got pretty annoyed with myself for doing that over the last few months, because it felt like I wasn’t saying anything. So now, I can just post those videos to 24-Hour Nothing Hour, where I don’t have to say anything. Because, after all, that’s not the point.

Go and check it out if you like. I’ve already posted a song there (The Stone Roses’ “I Wanna Be Adored”), and there’s probably going to be many more coming.

In any case, it’s a new thing. And new things are important, if you want to live an interesting life.

~ Ian

radio silence

Posted: January 15, 2013 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

Not going to lie to you, guys: I’ve been sucking as a blogger lately.

Seriously. Pretty much all of my creative energy lately has been going directly into finishing The Lotus Imperiate, which means that I don’t have the mental energy to really write anything on this blog. Which makes it so that I never really post anything. Which is sad, because when I do post things, it’s always crappy YouTube videos. 

As far as blogging goes, I can’t make many guarantees about sticking to a regular schedule right now. Like I said, I’m this close to finishing tLI, so it’s weighing big on my mind. (And my hard drive. It’s long– the longest thing I’ve ever written by far.) So I won’t really be posting all that much until it’s finished. Sorry to the six people who read this blog regularly, but that’s the truth. And I’m sorry that I created an “apologizing for not posting more often” post.

Axolotl Ceviche’s not going anywhere. But, for the moment, if things are quiet around here, you’ll know why.

And now, a Japanese sausage party:

BAISfF6CIAAlxkr

~ Ian

 

 

One year ago today, Axolotl Ceviche began.

I remember where I was when I began this blog. I was at Kirkwood, sitting at the bottom of a staircase, trying to get the page set up while practically everyone in the place yelled at me for blocking the stairs.

I’m at Kirkwood now, and it seems strange to me that I’m here again. It’s like coming full circle, a snake eating its tail.

2012 was a long year for me. A hard year, too, in many ways; but then again, all years are hard in their own particular way when you’re an Aspie in the world of neurotypicals. (I haven’t really talked all that much about my Asperger’s Syndrome on this blog, have I? I’m going to have to rectify that at some point.) But it was a year of huge progress for me in my writing.

I got my first rejection letter, and felt slightly relieved.

I wrote the first draft of “Cassandra” (which I’ll really have to finish up one of these days), which I suspect might be the best thing I’ve ever written.

Plus there’s the fact that I’ve written 100,000 words of a novel, and I’m within spitting distance of finishing the first draft as we speak.

A lot happened in 2012: some of it good, some of it not so good; some of which I shared with you, some of which I kept to myself. (After all, I do have a personal life, and not everything that happens to me goes up on this blog.)

I think 2013 will be the year when I’m going to keep refining. I’ll finish The Lotus Imperiate, and hopefully get a large chunk of the second draft finished. (My goal is to sell tLI by 2018, which I think is completely doable.) I’ve got an idea for a YA fantasy novel that I think is really cool. And I hope to do all those things that are in many ways more important than writing: I’ll go to school, and get a job, and hang out with friends, and (hopefully) get a girlfriend, although I think I have to master other things in the social universe before I get up to that level.

2012 was long, and it was wild. I don’t know what 2013 will bring, for any of us, any more than anyone else.

But for me, and for all of you, I hope that it will be awesome.

~ Ian

(Pink Floyd, “Outside the Wall”/”In the Flesh?”)

During the month of November, while I’m doing NaNoWriMo, there will be no updates to Creative Writing Wednesday.

I really don’t have time at the moment other than write The Lotus Imperiate, so therefore I’m not going to be sharing anything else at the moment.

(I could share snippets of tLI with you… but no. It’s in seriously rough shape, so I’m somewhat embarrassed about it. Maybe when I finish Draft 2.)

~ Ian

I put a section with some of my writing up there on the menu-thing.

It’s all part of the gradual process of evolving Axolotl Ceviche from a blog to a homepage.

Which will happen eventually.

I’m just biding my time…

~ Ian

I’ll be honest: whenever I post stuff here about the craft of writing, I always feel like a pretentious douchebag.

Even when I try to be sincere and honest about how I feel about this strange process known as creation, when I read it back over, I can’t help but wince.

So, as an experiment, I’m going to try to create the most douchebaggy writing post ever, so that I won’t have to ever feel sad about being pretentious on my lame blog ever again.

Ready?

Here we go.

*****

Writing is not truly a solitary art. Writing is not simply the writer speaking aloud to the reader, a direct transmission of thoughts from brain to brain, a telepathic union of human souls. Writing is instead collaborative. No story is complete until it has been read. Writers do not tell the story perfectly. The reader takes the story and makes it complete, for without the reader’s imagination augmenting and melding with the writer’s, what is there? Just a sad fucker performing the equivalent of creative wanking alone in a room.

But there is a third entity, which combines with and transcends the writer-reader relationship. That is the story itself, and it is tricky and winding, like a buttered snake: oozing and wending its way through the chaos of human minds, something that cannot be controlled, only guided, something that is not dead, but alive.

And when these three entities, the storyteller, the listener, and the story meet, they swim in the hazy color-realm that is known as the Aetherium, that is to say, imagination. And when these three join together in the Aetherium, they perform a mating dance that echoes throughout time and space itself, casting ripples that are dreams, and stars that are inspiration.

*****

I think that’s enough pretension for several human lifetimes, don’t you?

And now, here is a funny image:

~ Ian

Site Update: New Theme!

Posted: September 14, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I changed Axolotl Ceviche’s theme. The fourteen-year-old Green Day fan inside me absolutely loves it! I mean, look at it! It’s all gray and black and red and dystopian!

Affectionately yours,

~ Ian

I added a “Projects” page, which you can see up there on that thar menu.

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and hopefully it’ll let you guys know the things I’ve been working on, or are just coming together in my head.

Or not.

Whatever.

~ Ian