I DISCOVERED THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE
AND A COKE MACHINE GREW A SOUL
Im very, very tired.
The structure of my epic poem is a mix of poetry and pros. The main chapters, dealing with the main plot, and the spirit world, are in poetic form, as a dialogue between a voodoo priestess and her summoned muse. In between, are short little stories (I call them interludes) that indirectly go over the themes of the surrounding chapters, and tell independent stories set, mostly, in the real world.
When Neil Gaiman wanted to make one of his novels sound different, he decided to handwrite it, to change the rhythm of the sentences. So I tried that technique with the interludes only (to make them sound a little different than the chapters). I got a fountain pen and am using a journal I got as a gift.
I get a little freedom when I write the interludes, and lately, Ive been writing them by the new pillar circle and fountain on campus, usually after midnight (they keep it lit up all nightand I like running water).
The other night I walked in the rain to clear my head on a plot pointit worked.
Tonight I set out to write a couple of interludes. One of them was not the first Ive written, but Ive decided to make the first interlude, as it sort of indirectly, in narrative, explains the form and shape of my book. Just a short interlude, and introduction to all the others. Wellwords mounted as well as metaphysical theories and now Ive found Ive commented on the very nature of the universe and its shapeand it took all freaking night. I like itbut it wasnt supposed to take so long (I guess delving into the secrets of the universe eats up time).
The other night, one of those new Coke machines (the ones that you can see the inner workings of) corrected itself. Ive never seen this before. I typed in a combo of letter and number to get a cherry cokeand the little conveyer belt went up to the leveland there was a wine as the coke was supposed to fall out and then be conveyed to the slotbut there was just a wine, no coke, and the belt moved. The belt went down and then up again and tried again. No dice. The machine spat out my money and I tried a different coke and this time it worked. This is a big deal to me. Every machine Ive ever dealt with has been apt to steal your money at the drop of your hat to eat money or give the wrong product or give you back less change than you put in when you finally ask for it. This machine self corrected. If vending machines have gotten so honorable that they are willing to admit a mistake and fix itmaybe people can learn this too
Theres morebut I have to sleep
AND A COKE MACHINE GREW A SOUL
Im very, very tired.
The structure of my epic poem is a mix of poetry and pros. The main chapters, dealing with the main plot, and the spirit world, are in poetic form, as a dialogue between a voodoo priestess and her summoned muse. In between, are short little stories (I call them interludes) that indirectly go over the themes of the surrounding chapters, and tell independent stories set, mostly, in the real world.
When Neil Gaiman wanted to make one of his novels sound different, he decided to handwrite it, to change the rhythm of the sentences. So I tried that technique with the interludes only (to make them sound a little different than the chapters). I got a fountain pen and am using a journal I got as a gift.
I get a little freedom when I write the interludes, and lately, Ive been writing them by the new pillar circle and fountain on campus, usually after midnight (they keep it lit up all nightand I like running water).
The other night I walked in the rain to clear my head on a plot pointit worked.
Tonight I set out to write a couple of interludes. One of them was not the first Ive written, but Ive decided to make the first interlude, as it sort of indirectly, in narrative, explains the form and shape of my book. Just a short interlude, and introduction to all the others. Wellwords mounted as well as metaphysical theories and now Ive found Ive commented on the very nature of the universe and its shapeand it took all freaking night. I like itbut it wasnt supposed to take so long (I guess delving into the secrets of the universe eats up time).
The other night, one of those new Coke machines (the ones that you can see the inner workings of) corrected itself. Ive never seen this before. I typed in a combo of letter and number to get a cherry cokeand the little conveyer belt went up to the leveland there was a wine as the coke was supposed to fall out and then be conveyed to the slotbut there was just a wine, no coke, and the belt moved. The belt went down and then up again and tried again. No dice. The machine spat out my money and I tried a different coke and this time it worked. This is a big deal to me. Every machine Ive ever dealt with has been apt to steal your money at the drop of your hat to eat money or give the wrong product or give you back less change than you put in when you finally ask for it. This machine self corrected. If vending machines have gotten so honorable that they are willing to admit a mistake and fix itmaybe people can learn this too
Theres morebut I have to sleep
terrakotta:
I find your coke machine experience fascinating, as today in the lounge the soda/water machine performed very strangely. I put my change in, but before I could hit any of the buttons, a ginger ale popped out. I was actually trying to buy a water and started to question my short term memory for a moment there: DID I hit a button? A person standing nearby said, "Oh, you got a ginger ale!" and laughed. I looked over to the nearby counter and saw that people had been leaving their mistaken ginger ales all morning: there were 5 or 6 unopened cans on the counter. For some unknown reason, the machine had been spitting out ginger ales, and only ginger ales, all day; sometimes without even receiving the correct change. We are now referring to it as the Twilight Zone machine. They do say hell is repetition! If your coke machine displayed morality, my machine should be tracked by the FBI as a possible serial killer.
ladymaze:
Mwahahaha! Too sloooow!