It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, at least virtually. I’ve had to block some people for being idiots on Twitter, not that it shut them up, but at least i didn’t have them on my main page – they were actually threatening to go cut themselves – eek, emo alert!
Unfortunately, the Twitter block function is imperfect. It doesn’t actually sodomise and then peel the person you aim it at. Wait, sodomy is more fun than they deserve… better make it sodomy with a cactus. And we could peel them with… well, this is what the Gleaming Instruments of Death were made for, maybe Twitter should call me.
Despite the fucktards, i did get a popular blog post (see previous) out of the contretemps. (Popular for me does not mean millions… that one’s topped 200 on the bit.ly links, not best ever, but good.) I know this because I’ve been looking at my stats – world domination proceeds slowly but steadily, with occasional peaks when i get controversial.
Today is my birthday – yep, 49, which is too big a number to think about. Yes, 31st October, Halloween – seriously, what did you expect? Me being the Queen of Darkness wasn’t exactly an accident. Halloween is however, alien to my culture. Trick or treaters will be greeted with “It’s my birthday, where’s my present?” Funny, they all seem to run away when you put them on the spot.
While i’m waiting for the children to arrive, i thought i’d have a slight rant…
Some of the top searches used to find this blog are:
pony, budgie, penectomy porn, funny cats, cameltoes and tattoos
It’s like i’ve been saying – Search Engine Optimisation Experts, Gurus, Entrepreneurs, and the rest of the people trying to flog you dead horses on Twitter are way behind me. Yes, not just eunuchs, budgies, camel toe, and tattoos, I’m getting a toehold in the “pony” market.
Hello little girls! Welcome! I was once like you. Longing for a pony of my own. For horses, i could and did get up at five a.m. to feed and groom, i mucked out stables and didn’t mind the heat, the cold, the rain, the smell of manure. I coped when horses bit, kicked, and trod on me.
I lived through them bucking me off, into lakes, rivers, trees, fences, and walls. With being wiped off on anything handy. With them getting over-excited and freaking out on a regular basis. I love horses, so it’s part of it.
It’s not some kind of privation – though of course one gets dusty, muddy, gashed, broken, bent, (this is because leather will imprint as one of your earliest sexual cues), and then thrown off into a prickle patch. It sounds awful, and no fun at all.
However, right now, crippled as i am, if you gave me a horse (and the wherewithal to keep it), i think i’d still happily drag myself out of bed at 5 am. There’s something about horses. I’m the same way with words. The infection lasted. “It’s just a stage she’s going through.” Nah, it was me. Who i am. I’ll always love horses and words. They bring me joy.
No matter how crap life is, just seeing a horse lifts my spirits. I can actually feel better about things if i just imagine being round them. I take myself riding, in my mind. I even feed and groom horses, saddle up, and pick out their feet. The familiar rhythms are all there, in my memories.
I start to write (when i’m not procrastinating, which doesn’t bring me joy, though it can be very productive in regard to getting anything but writing done), and as the words start to flow, i get a similar pleasure.
Some time ago, especially after an incident where in a short time, I had some rather close-to-death experiences, i decided to focus on what brings me joy. It’s not possible to completely avoid that which doesn’t, as i’m unfortunately trapped here on Earth with you humans – but i can certainly wipe out the effects of the dire.
Things like good whole food, being near water, and letting writing be a full time pursuit. I see horses most days, some live on the way to the shops. The food’s tricky, here in the sticks – it was easier to get good meat in suburban London. I used to go to the local Halal (Islamic) butcher when i lived in West Hampstead (though he was over the border in Kilburn). I wonder now if they’re still there. They were nice, even to me, a bare-armed, bare-headed, infidel woman.
Most people are just people, you know. Governments and religious leaders like to focus on the differences between us – divide and rule is their basic policy. Just note how many times they try to make you scared – but frankly, good people come in every colour, religion, and sexuality.
Complete maggots likewise. Of course, most people think their actions are justified. Let’s face it, even Hitler didn’t set out to be evil, he thought he was doing Germany and the world a favour. He thought it was logical. That exterminating human beings was inhumane didn’t matter, because he’d already decided – these were not humans.
Once you dehumanise your enemy, it’s easier for your people to kill them. One of the main problems for soldiers is that in order to keep killing, they have to see the enemy as less than human. We’re not actually designed for murder. With some exceptions.
See, i don’t see the Devil as some kind of external influence – i think we’re all creatures of duality – we’re all capable of both beauty and horror. Which one you manifest, is up to you. If you let yourself be filled up with rage, hate, and insecurity, if your entire life revolves around getting others to pay attention to your attention whoring, then hell, sugar, i’m going to block you on Twitter.
We all have these things inside us – i choose to manifest mine as funny blog posts. Not all of it – there’s a heck of a lot of energy i can use there. The poison others send me can be deflected, returned, or i can use the energy for something constructive, that brings me joy.
So i write. By the way – did you see? Someone found this blog while looking for “funny cats” – oh yeah, baby, i’m into Lolcat territory on Google Search.
Weez gonna be hooj.
In other news: in The Thing i am writing – the hero needed to be older – he was having sex, and i figured 13 was too young. Weirdly, i was basing his history on several people i know, but sometimes, fiction has to be toned down from real life.
I also discovered – once i’d stopped, corrected all references to age, adjusted his language and others’ behaviour to him – that i’d forgotten to note the timing of events in the narrative on a calendar, so i knew for instance, how long it was since his birthday. Then i realised one of the characters had broken the plot, so I’m currently sorting that. Silly bugger died before his time.
There’s a lot to keep track of, lucky i do love spreadsheets. I still refer to my synopses, outlines, and summaries of this first bunch of books, which i drew up using the Snowflake Method. They need tweaking of course, as the narrative changes, but that’s okay, there’s elasticity built in.
Tip: every so often, I save each current document or spreadsheet (if was Book01) as 02, then 03 and so on. This is in case you mess up and need to go back to a previous version. You can also use Word’s version tracker, which saves versions within a single document. In case of accidental deletion of single documents, i like to keep separate copies.
I once inserted an image over an entire document i had no copy of – so yes, i’m paranoid.
On the longer list of searches -
- why smugglers
- my house is trying to kill me
- switchblade and a motorbike
- realistic mannequins with pubic genital
- i am not a whore
Why smugglers? I am not a whore? (The others make sense, blog titles or I’ve blogged on them.)
And SEO experts want you to pay to get listed on Google? Lord above, with the way it works, how can you not be listed? Of course, you may not be listed under what you want to be.
I suppose Beloved Visitors might be miffed, if they arrive looking for penectomy porn and find me instead. On the other hand, thinking about it, the Queen of Darkness, with a bullwhip and a cattleprod, ready to run over you with a tank if you don’t donate to the Hello Kitty Kalashnikov Office Chair Fund, is probably just the woman you’re looking for.