Development

There is another way of denying the fact that you've lost your touch. Read your old stuff. It's actually much more fun than cleaning your keyboard.

I went back like five years in time and found the good the bad, the ugly as well as the interesting in our old work.


The good - a lot more humor in the early stuff. Being dark and painful is all fun and game but I realized that I miss the humor. We were cracking jokes as if there was no tomorrow. Most of which are not suited to be posted in here though.

The bad - the black sheep character was (ironically enough) darker. Meaner. Edgier. Much more insulting. Much more interesting.

The ugly - spelling and grammar were not our friend. Still isn't, but we get along just fine these days.

The interesting - back then the characters smoked indoors. Ever since the ban on smoking in public places was introduced here in Sweden I've made them go out on the balcony for a cigarette. I found that very interesting cause I wasn't aware of it but looking back now I noticed that they were smoking all over the place in the early stuff.


I'm gonna read one more before I go to bed. Something about watching Russian TV in Mexico... I dunno, I don't remember this. Sounds intriguing.

Pillowbuilder

This summer I watched amazed how a friend of mine started building a fortress of pillows prior to bedtime up at our summer place. I looked at her as if she was pulling my leg but apparently this is what some people consider comfortable. It just had to be documented.

Cactus

I've managed to kill my cactus and I realize that I might be one of few people in the world who posess this skill.

It looked strange so I went up and poked it. It fell apart.

This is the second time that happens. I don't really know what that should tell me.

Late Night Conversation

We brainstorm a lot over msn. New suggestions. Old suggestions. Most of them will never "see the light of day". And yesterday I saved the whole conversation for the first time ever and read it though, realizing how very disturbed we are. It was a real epiphany I tell you. I guess it is all about perspective.

Anyhow, I will call this exhibit 1:



Fia:
she wants him dead so she can live with richard
Susan:
I toyed with the idea of it
Fia:
you did?
Susan:
I killed off Tony to see how much pain I could draw from that
Fia:
was it worth it?
Susan:
no
Susan:
just wasn't the same
Fia:
so you brought him back to life?
Susan:
yes I had ethan say something nasty and he just woke up
Fia:
so in a way you could say that it was goodbye for a little while?


Susan was so inspired by this post that she decided to go ahead and post exhibit 2. Apparently, she's been saving these conversation for years. God help us all!

Krycek

I watched that show Kyle XY last week and I realized already after two episodes that it lacked one very important ingredience: quality. I had good reason to keep watching all thirteen episodes though.

Nick Lea.

He is getting OLD. It really had me depressed. And filled with nostalgia.

I miss the rat bastard.

Nick Lea, for those who don’t know, is the actor who played my all time favorite character Alex Krycek in The X-files. Small brilliant role. Complex and dark. Kept things interesting but didn’t get to show his face all that often. And then of course Chris Carter thought it was a good idea to kill him off somewhere in season seven (or was it eight?) and that was it for me.

I had already started to loose interest during season five but this was the last straw. Nevermind Duchovny leaving the show or the obvious drop of quality since the move from Vancouver to L.A., who cares? But they killed of Krycek! Stupid ass Carter!

Sadly though, Nick Lea isn’t a brilliant actor. And I was never one of those people who went out and got myself a Krycek clone (oh yes, they exsist... or rather existed). I wasn’t crazy. I just really thought that his character was the only good thing they had left to hold the show together. So watching him in this show that was following the trend of today where all shows have poorly thought out plotlines, two dimensional characters and bad actors, it really bummed me out. Which is why I feel it is my duty to enlighten the public (how very phily of me) to why he is the best TV character ever.

This is where I was about to insert a short video with clips of Krycek. It backfired on me for one of two reasons.

1. I couldn’t work out the technical kinks.
2. The network is down.


I believe this is what they call anticlimax. But I can post the link if anyone is even interested. I mean, this is just me being obsessive. Comes naturally to me. But in any case. I present the unbeatable (lots of puns intended) Krycek:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOTSs0xofo4



I seriously doubt that this is suppose to be slash so don't even go there...

Oh, and I did not make this.

Gettin' High... Apparently

“Don’t take too much of that cough mixture I got you the other day. My boss told me that there is some kind of drug in that so you shouldn’t take too much.”

I’ve managed to get out of the apartment and down to my boyfriend’s old job to have dinner with my boyfriend and my parents. My mother is sitting across the table, neatly folding her napkin to the side. She works in a hospital so her boss is an M.D which inclines me to take her serious.

“Define too much,” I say.

The other night my boyfriend looked at me through a haze of exhaustion while I searched for my lungs somewhere on the floor next to the bed. In lack of a measurement cup I had taken a glass and felt that I already taken more than the bottle required just before I went to bed. Now it felt like it had been less.

“Sweety, I love you but if don’t stop coughing there will be consequences,” my boyfriend informs me and sits up.

I nod like there is a silent agreement that the consequences would mean that under these circumstances it would be OK for him to suffocate me with a pillow. I would understand. I can’t stand this myself. So I go out to the kitchen and have another go at my medicine. Better fill it up this time...

The last thing I remember is the feeling of my head against the pillow. I can’t move, my head is stuck to the pillow. The good news is that I no longer feel the need to cough but I am sure that if I fall asleep it will be the last thing I ever do. I accept these facts and think that if I’m gonna fall in to a coma I better think of something nice just in case I get stuck with my thoughts too. So I think of something nice and then I pass out.

In retrospect, I think I’ve already defined too much.

A Time for Soup and Tea

I have a cold and I feel pathetic.

There is a lot to write about. For one there is my weekend up at my summer place with my boyfriend and our friends. Very successfull voyage. Then there was the election here in Sweden that leaves a lot to be said about.

Unfortunately I can not hold a thought long enough to keep myself interested. I haven't even been able to write my own stuff since before this weekend. So I'm just gonna focus on getting well first.

Too Late for Thoughts

It's 3:30 in the middle of the night and I am suffering from insomnia. I tried writing but I couldn't get to the point. Just mindless conversation about nothing.

Plot? We don't need no stinking plot. Right?

We should make an effort though. PWP becomes a little trite after a while. A little redundant and meaningless when you're trying to develop and grow.

Ha! Who are we kidding? This is just a drug. And we know the timeline will be revised... again. And again.

I have actually been pushing for an idea for about five years. I finally broke her down and got my way. Poking some rather big holes in the timeline. Now she is stuck in that mode along with me and we can't seem to get out. She has seen the light, that's all I have to say about that. That and Hallelulja!

After all, this is us playing God....

Here We Go Again

what day is it

and in what month

this clock never seemed so alive

In the middle of the night when the power of suggestions is triggerd by the slightest thing and stronger than ever you just have to fall a little in love. So we do.

Cleaning The Keyboard Instead

Sometimes you just sit in front of the computer trying to force yourself to be creative. You write one line. You erase it. You write a new line. You’re not happy about it but you continue writing, hoping that it will come to you. It usually doesn’t. And then when you read what you managed to create you see how the stitches just falls apart. There is too much focus on how or even why someone went from sitting in the couch to standing in the kitchen. It’s structured. You have no sence of scent or emotion and your characters are stumping out cigarettes on the balcony rail just to fill out the space in between. In between nothing.

And then somtimes when you’re doing the dishes or standing in line somewhere it just strikes down on you. That intense feeling that starts with a goofy unintelligent smile and ends with an urgent need to get to a computer, a piece of paper, anything, before the emotion of it all is gone. And even then it’s hard to capture it like you intended. This is the greatest feeling ever but it usually keeps you overwhelmed with the images in your mind and you can’t make heads or tale of it all. So in most cases you end up with a blank sheet at best. Attempting to write at all in such a state usually ends in disaster.

There is some balance there in between that allows for you to actually be creative. Right now I feel stuck between the two in a place where ideas linger but won’t exsist outside my head.

Writing is like therapy for me. Comfort food. I crave it. This is very frustrating.

Keeping it Real

We created almost all our characters almost ten years ago and they still keep getting more and more complex. However, writing a character for almost ten years has its drawbacks. Sometimes we take the concept of getting in to character a little bit too far....


“So the thing I sent you. Any thoughts.”

“I loved it.”

Which is always the case.

“Cause I was thinking that he would do that.”

“Of course he would. That’s how he is.”

Silence.

“If he was a real person.”

Silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s a character. We’re just making this up. You are aware of that right?”

Silence

“Right?”

“Yeah...” Long dissapointing pause.



This is still under heavy debate.

Strange

Look at that, it's back! Whaddayaknow.

Warped Signifigance

Puners be coming left and right.

And for some reason the function that allows for people to comment on the blog has vanished without a trace. I can't seem to figure out why. This does not fit in to my own megalomaniacal cosmology.

Stuck in the quagmire.

Thinking out Loud

If you really had to choose, what would be worse, to be liked but not respected or to be respected but not liked?

Most people claim that they want to be both liked and respected of course. I wonder what the turning point from being liked and respected to being neither could be for those who take that path. What motivates the choices some make that turns them into bastards? Money? Fame? A false sense of respect? A false sense of justification for the actions that they take? I guess it all wages against our conscience and our self respect.

I have been offered the possibility of becoming a bastard on two occasions. I didn't take any one of them. The first one was not a hard choice at all to turn down. I was offered to become the “front figure” of a Japanese French Maid Resturant when I was in Tokyo. At first I thought it was a joke, I mean for one I’m not exactly model material and the very idea of seeing myself dressed in a French Maid costume at all, never the less on large billboards all over Tokyo felt a bit bizarre and very repulsive.

“You blond, big blue eyes. You make millions of dollars here.” He explained to me.

“Well, that sounds very nice but I’m afraid my self respect is not for sale,” I explained having a hard time sticking with the politeness one must adapt to in Japan.


The other situation was very different and very complex which was why it was a much harder choice to make. What I learned from that experience and what made me understand that I made the right choice is that when you realize that you feel a need to justify your actions in terms of how it will affect other people, there is something that is very wrong. And that is your cue.


Hell no, I’m not that desperate... yet. :)

To Boldly Go....

Creativity builds more creativity. I guess that's just the way it is.

I got great feedback on my graphic assigment and it might generate some more work on that department for me. It's not really a big deal but it's just something that makes me feel really really good about myself. And I am easily flattered these days, if someone tells me that I have talent I chose to trust their judgement. Even if it turns out to be total crap, this would be the kind of lie I would like to believe.

I then found a lot of inspirational videos on the net. And some music videos with clips from old XF episodes. Sort of like fan fiction but in movie format. Felt kind of nostalgic about that, like discovering Spell for the first time, even though I am not (and I can't stress this enough) a shipper. This philer is a slasher down to the bone.

Anyway, I ended up in my Word document writing away on my "story in the making" (sorry, that expression just cracks me up). I managed to write 6 pages so far and for once there seems to be something recembling a plotline. I'm so proud. Until tomorrow when I read it all in the light of day and have to ask myself what the hell I was thinking :)

Crappy Day(s)

Monday started off bad. Thuesday's been even worse. I know for a fact that Wensday will top the cake.

I'm not really in a bad mood, I'm just... depressed. It takes a lot more than for most people I know, but eventually I do cave when the pressure gets to me.


Then my boyfriend calls me from his business trip. He's been away for two days and he tells me that he finally got to do something he's been talking about, dreaming about, ever since we first started dating. He had the opportunaty to go out and sail, and he won the whole sailing competition. He's so happy I just feel like hugging him for making me smile. Then he remembers the hell that I've been through and stops talking about his wonderful day. I didn't want him to but then he goes ahead and tells me that he loves me and that he misses me. And suddenly everything else seems unimportant.

Next station: Benville

Sometimes you just have to laugh about it. Even if it is not even remotely funny and it comes out more like the cry of a madman who's been sitting there waiting hours on end with no assurance that help would arrive.

Let the smile be your umbrella and that crap.

Yes crap.

I might be going mad. I don't know how you can tell. I asked my boyfriend, he said: "not more than usual." What does that mean?

Maybe crying would be healthier but then you're not so much mad as you are weak. I'd rather be mad than weak. People who are insane make great authors. Or mabye great authors go insane, I don't remember which.

I'd better stay in Benville instead. There everyone is a bit mad. Except for the lawyer who is just boring and who feels like one of those Ken dolls you had as a child that couldn't bend his arms. He tried to hug Barbie and he risked poking her eye out. But other than that you will feel right at home so just go right ahead and.... step right in.

Who Ever Said the Japanese were Different?

Like does He have a Car?

I happened to catch the last couple of minutes of Footloose on TV a few hours ago and now I just zapped past Saturday Night Live on another channel. In movies such as these people start to dance in sync just like that. In the spur of the moment and by some unexplained force they all know the moves. And no one ever trips and fall, no one ever finds him/herself standing there looking like a complete idiot dancing on their own. As one would do had one attempted to do this out on a club (or God help us all: the street).

It's like musicals, where people start singing for no particular reason at all. That never happens in real life. I've never been standing in line in a grocery store or anywhere else for that matter to suddenly hear someone burst out singing, feeling the uncontrollable urge to sing along. It never happened. People who go around singing in public without any particualr reason are called lunatics and we lock them up in special places.

Negotiating with the Dead

I still don’t understans what it is that persuades a person with common sense to leave behind a sense of security and devote his or her whole life describing people who does not exist. If it is make believe – which a lot of people who writes about writing often claims – how can one explain the overriding urge to do it, and that alone, and consider it as rationell as riding your bike over the Alps?

I walked absent mindely though the different stands at a market yesterday, waiting for my sister and mother to finish their shopping frenzy when I noticed a book in the bookstand. It caught my attention instantly and as I went in for a closer look I was surprised to see that it was written by my favorite author. A Canadian woman who makes the rest of us look really bad as we try to make sense of plotlines and purpose in our own writing. Turns out that I’ve stumbeled across her book about just that; writing. There, in a mist of bad novels and pretentious authors I find the best, offering her view on authors and writers.

The quote above is a part of the introduction in Margret Atwood’s book, Negotiating with the Dead. A Writer on Writing. It’s a quote from Mavis Gallant’s Selected Stories and she dives in to the passions and difficulties of writing. I’ve only read 70 pages so far but she strikes down to the very core of what I know and all that I want to know about but didn’t know I needed. She simply continues to amaze me.

I’ve read a lot of work from feminist author’s, most of them very old like the Brontë sister’s, Jane Austin and Kate Chopin but also more contemporary author’s such as Toni Morrisson and Bharati Mukehrejee but Margret Atwood is without a doubt the best one. I have no good way of describing it, she just writes it like it is. Her work is subjective of course becasue she writes about women in different situations but you can still detect her as the objective force holding the pen (or the keyboard in this case). She is never obvious but she gets her point across without ever explaining it to you. She is simply amazing, a true inspiration and I am very happy that I stumbeled across her take on reality.