I’m so sorry

So the Wedding of Sarah Jane was quite nice.  Not sure about the camp way Clyde looks at the camera at the beginning of the show, but the story had some nice resonances, and TARDIS sound is one of the best sounds in the world.  The Gate thing was nice too.  But were we supposed to be able to see the Trickster’s real teeth under the triangle teeth?  Also, the Trickster seems a little easy to defeat.

It should be easier to tell your friends that they are pretty and they shouldn’t say they’re not.  But it’s not.

And have found a flat I could live in, but need to check out a slightly cheaper one too.

Story elements to use

Sinister dolly shop. Dollies are sinister to begin with. But a shop full? I have to figure out what the sinister dollies do. I don’t think they come to life. More likely something is trapped in the dollies.

I would normally say dolls. But I said dolly to a friend today and now find that I enjoy the word dolly an inordinate amount. Dolly.

Human internet. Someone told me today that their brain was faster than the internet. Which no doubt is true. But if you were the human internet, would that mean that your head was 90% full of porn?

Man who gets voice mail from his dead girlfriend. In love with this idea at the moment. Not quite sure where it would go. Wrecks another relationship? As you wish.

Man who returns from being abducted by aliens and how he lives his life after the event. I really like this idea. What if he got Stockholm Syndrome and fell in love with the aliens? I mean it’s a little like other stories I’ve done, but it would be fun. I’ve only seen a couple of episodes of the 4400 which seems like just another American sf show. So I’d like to do something about a man falling apart, unable to communicate properly with anyone. (Okay it’s a story about me.)

The illusion of free will

Have you read The Magus by John Fowles? It’s a long novel, a bit overblown, but interesting. The protagonist finds himself on the island of a character based on Aleister Crowley, being played over and over again by the people he meets, who act and present facade after facade that force him to question reality. With the ultimate conclusion that our lives are built on the deceptions we choose to believe.

This fits with the assertion by physicists that we act in the only way information will allow us to, and by biologists that we are biological machines fulfilling the requirements of our physiology, rather than rational beings making a choice about what we can and cannot do.

But in a world where we don’t really understand human biology, and where mathematics is not absolute (take Godel’s incompleteness that mean that there will always be things outside mathematic systems), that seems again to be choosing to believe things. Perhaps based on more facts, but still a choice.

Join me one orange-coloured day

One of my favourite films. Shy, lonely but good people finding their places in the world. But the direction, and the luminous photography sell it. France, so full of beautiful town design and architecture, where Britain is full of grotty mismatched buildings. And the cast is, because Europeans like actors with faces full of character, not pretty boys and girls, at once normal and extraordinary. (It helps that Audrey Tautou is lovely.)

So slot that in with Flash Gordon (”The inhabitants call it… Euuurth.”), The Three Musketeers (”M’sieu Cyclops”), Return of the Jedi (”When nine hundred years old you are, this good look you will not”), Memento (”Remember Sammy Jankiss”), Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (”It tells me that goose-stepping morons should try reading books instead of burning them”) and Duck Soup (”We have to fight for this lady’s honour… which is more than she ever did!”)

This is what I want to produce and to hell with all else.

As a writer I want to be a smarter, funnier version of Philip K. Dick, playing with broken realities and broken people. I want to take that pessimism I use to protect me and channel it into a way of writing about the world. I want to mix my understandings of science and culture and mythology and comedy and wind it all together into some funky lyrical double helix spawning a new generation of thought and intelligence.

Bind in all those weird Japanese writers I love, and those seventies new wave writers and all those silly little tricks I learned from Adams and Pratchett and Harry Harrison.

And you know what. I will.

Because I’m that good. And if anyone thinks otherwise, you’re wrong. And I’ll prove it.

And I will.

A new hope

Okay, so giving up is easy.

Saying, I can’t do this, is easy.

But trying, really trying that’s what you’re meant to do.

So I’m not giving up. Not on this. Not on anything.

Because giving up is easy. And the easy way is a waste. If you have to struggle for something, but you know that it’s worth it, then struggle you should.

No more steps back, only steps forward.

Due South

Ray Vecchio pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “What is it now?”

Benton Fraser, Ray’s best friend and the bane of his life, gave him that slightly puzzled look where his lips parted slightly to show his top teeth and his head cocked to one side. “Well, Ray, I was passing by this gathering of disaffected teenagers and I noticed that one of them was carrying a gun, so I thought I would ensure that the young man was aware of just how dangerous a gun can be in the wrong hands. Unfortunately for some reason I can’t begin to fathom, he took offence at my good intentions and started to gesture with the weapon in an agitated manner.”

Ray closed his eyes and didn’t open them. “And then what happened?”

“I suggested that he should replace the weapon and turn it in to his local precinct house at his earliest convenience. At which point he began to rant in an incoherent and offensive manner.” Fraser leaned in close to Ray and whispered, “There were ladies present. I became quite embarrassed for him.”

“So what happened next?”

“Well, Ray, I did the only reasonable thing. I ####ed the little ####er up.”

Ray’s eyes popped open and his jaw dropped.

“You did what?”

“I opened up a can of whup-a##e and ####ed his ####ing #### before ###### ####### his ##### and then I ########## ###### ###### #####.”

Ray’s mouth hung open for about thirty seconds longer before he could regain fine muscle control.

“Waow.”

“Of course, it was something of an overreaction. So I’ll be putting myself on reprimand for use of excessive force. I’ll probably suspend myself from active duty and may even recommend that I’m fired from my position. But it was worth it.”

“Well okay Benny. Are you okay?”

Fraser smiled. “Couldn’t be better. Especially today.”

“How come?”

“April first, Ray.”