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"sex should be less stigmatized and talked about more" and "you should always make sure people who dont want to consume sexual media that you present dont have to see it" are two statements that can and should coexist. by the way.
You know, an interesting tumblr transformation that's happened gradually, and which I've seen no one talk about: ask-culture has essentially dropped off to nothing.
By which I mean, asks used to be WAY more of the tumblr economy. They used to be more common to send, and receive, and see. They were integral to the collaborative, forum-like behavior of old tumblr communities, not even to speak on the HUGE number of ask-blogs that used to exist to only be interacted with in ask-form.
I'm not saying this in a vying-for-attention way but instead in an observational way: I used to get way way more asks in like 2015, even with a fraction of my follower count. I wonder if it's due to the homogenization of social media sites? There's a lot more of this divide between "content creator" and "consumer" instead of just a bunch of peer blogs who would talk to each other. "Asks" aren't really a thing on twitter, are they? And as I understand it, the closest thing to an "ask" on instagram or tiktok would be a creator screenshotting some comment and responding to it in a new reel or video or whatever those content mediums are. Are asks just too tumblr-specific? Is that aspect of the site culture dying out as more and more people converge to using all their social media sites in the same way?
it's probably from assholes making asks a minefield of trolling/harassment for years with no real blocking ability, which turned people off from allowing asks on their blogs so as a whole the site moved away from it
but now that we do have better blocking, we should try to revive it.
What would The Traitors be like on Cardassia? I reckon it’s called The Order, and there are 3 people who are secretly designated dissidents, unknown even to each other. Everyone else is with the Order, and it’s their job to hunt down the dissidents. At the round table everyone gets a turn to denounce someone else, and the person with the most denunciations is exiled.
The dissidents have never won, in more than 25 seasons of The Order. Everyone knows it’s a massive fix but obviously nobody says so. It’s the third most watched show on Cardassia Prime after Clouds Over Culat and Real Housewives of Lakarian City.
Yes but they are tremendously serious and ponderous programmes about the importance of marriage and the family. Everyone secretly finds them very dull but they watch dutifully so that they’re not caught out by Order informants and get a reputation for being anti-family.
after the reconstruction do they bring these back? is it a huge scandal when they include a "non-Cardassian" on the dating shows (they're still Cardassian but like maybe 1/4 Bajoran or something not even obvious)? Is the first season the dissidents win on the reconstructivist The Order a huge hit?
They come back full pelt with a series set on Risa and loads of aliens and the ensuing political firestorm collapses the conservative coalition in the Assembly enabling Castellan Ghemor to repeal Dukat's pre-war pro-family legislation. There are rumours that Ghemor's shadowy "fixer" Elim Garak advised the show's producers but surely that's the Ses'erakh gossip machine working overtime.
The dissidents winning The Order is indeed a massive hit, one of the most watched events on Cardassia in a generation, outmatched only by the first time Clouds Over Culat airs after the Fire, a Cardassian cultural moment as significant as Dirty Den serving Ange the divorce papers in the Christmas Eastenders or the wedding of Charles and Lady Di.
Mr "Fixer" Garak is too busy fanning the political wildfires back in the capital, but he's getting hourly updates via his spy, i.e. one of the production runners.
I would like to think Ghemor made him trek out there at least once for a personal touch given the "importance of this production to the soul of the union and potential future intergalactic relations". This is an obvious ploy to try and get the man to relax for the first time in his life. It, crucially, does not work
The travel is exhausting; the hotel is noisy; everyone else there is young and hooked up with someone gorgeous; he's only been home for ten minutes and they're sending him off again; it's very Federation and, yes, this makes him pine for Bashir...
Plus all the federation twinks (who remind him too much of Bashir) keep trying to call him daddy and do border wars RP with him. He's too old for this.
He looks cute in his cardassian-equivalent kaftan and sunhat, at least
Clouds Over Culat is the great Cardassian telenovela created by me and @planetarywanderer on Twitter during lockdown! A multigenerational soap opera. A truly significant piece of Cardassian culture. Everyone watches it, even those who pretend not to.
Good question. I think it’s run for so long it’s been all these things over the years, and everyone has their favourite era. Except that patch of a few months with the hound-racing subplot, everyone hated that.
I personally am a huge fan of the dramatic zoom-ins on CoC. But regular and attentive viewers know to watch carefully when an expensive big white skimmer appears on screen. The producers bought one and filmed it crashing over a cliff and exploding. Now they use that footage whenever they can to save money. Whenever someone climbs into a big white skimmer your pulse races. Of course some people walk away from the explosion without a hair out of place. Scheming matriarch Mathra Fereny has done so three times, although one husband didn’t make it. But it turned out he was already married and it still isn’t clear whether or not Mathra knew and crashed the skimmer deliberately. That was her fourth husband unless you count the one she remarried in which case he’s her fifth. I refer you to the fan forum discussion threads: beware, they’re inhabited by some pretty formidable experts on the history of Cardassian enjoinment laws, both professionals and auto-didacts.
The skimmer has its own dedicated subforum on the biggest fan site and people regularly post pictures of themselves with skimmers of the same make. All location data monitored by the Order of course. Someone got into big trouble for selling off what they claimed was pieces from the wreck of the original skimmer. They were going for mad prices before the investigation got underway.
Incredibly, the actual skimmer was tracked down postwar to a quarry two hours outside Ses’erakh by former Order filing clerk Akem Retel, and is now held in pride of place at the Culat Museum of Popular Culture, opened by Castellan Garak in 2388,
History of enjoinment laws? I love fandoms where people get to whip out their legalese and knowledge of laws, we need more of that. (My inner lawyer is made happy.)
The exploding skimmer made me think of a particular Polish soap on which they killed off a character by having her crash her car into a stack of cardboard boxes. She died on the spot*.
Mhm. Does COC involve crazy plots about long-lost siblings and illegitimate and/or swapped and/or stolen children or does the state family propaganda forbid that? Post-war, do we start getting more craziness in family trees?
Also: who is that one character that regularly gets killed and then miraculously comes back, "bitch you thought you'd seen the last of me" style and is it Mathra's niece?
Death by cardboard boxes, you will always be famous to me.
The plots are insanely crazy because they distract from the actual real-life hypocritical shenanigans of the Cardassian elite. As long as everything eventually resolves within the law.
One of the longest-standing actors (played Mathra’s second husband, she was his third wife) foolishly confused his fame with reality and was embroiled in a real-life marital scandal with a girl young enough to be his daughter. Wasn’t seen on screen again. Or off.
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What would The Traitors be like on Cardassia? I reckon it’s called The Order, and there are 3 people who are secretly designated dissidents, unknown even to each other. Everyone else is with the Order, and it’s their job to hunt down the dissidents. At the round table everyone gets a turn to denounce someone else, and the person with the most denunciations is exiled.
The dissidents have never won, in more than 25 seasons of The Order. Everyone knows it’s a massive fix but obviously nobody says so. It’s the third most watched show on Cardassia Prime after Clouds Over Culat and Real Housewives of Lakarian City.
Yes but they are tremendously serious and ponderous programmes about the importance of marriage and the family. Everyone secretly finds them very dull but they watch dutifully so that they’re not caught out by Order informants and get a reputation for being anti-family.
after the reconstruction do they bring these back? is it a huge scandal when they include a "non-Cardassian" on the dating shows (they're still Cardassian but like maybe 1/4 Bajoran or something not even obvious)? Is the first season the dissidents win on the reconstructivist The Order a huge hit?
They come back full pelt with a series set on Risa and loads of aliens and the ensuing political firestorm collapses the conservative coalition in the Assembly enabling Castellan Ghemor to repeal Dukat's pre-war pro-family legislation. There are rumours that Ghemor's shadowy "fixer" Elim Garak advised the show's producers but surely that's the Ses'erakh gossip machine working overtime.
The dissidents winning The Order is indeed a massive hit, one of the most watched events on Cardassia in a generation, outmatched only by the first time Clouds Over Culat airs after the Fire, a Cardassian cultural moment as significant as Dirty Den serving Ange the divorce papers in the Christmas Eastenders or the wedding of Charles and Lady Di.
My definitive ranking of my least favorite bodies of water! These are ranked from least to most scary (1/10 is okay, 10/10 gives me nightmares). I’m sorry this post is long, I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this.
The Great Blue Hole, Belize
I’ve been here! I have snorkeled over this thing! It is terrifying! The water around the hole is so shallow you can’t even swim over the coral without bumping it, and then there’s a little slope down, and then it just fucking drops off into the abyss! When you’re over the hole the water temperature drops like 10 degrees and it’s midnight blue even when you’re right by the surface. Anyway. The Great Blue Hole is a massive underwater cave, and its roughly 410 feet deep. Overall, it’s a relatively safe area to swim. It’s a popular tourist attraction and recreational divers can even go down and explore some of the caves. People do die at the Blue Hole, but it is generally from a lack of diving experience rather than anything sinister going on down in the depths. My rating for this one is 1/10 because I’ve been here and although it’s kinda freaky it’s really not that bad.
Lake Baikal, Russia
When I want to give myself a scare I look at the depth diagram of this lake. It’s so deep because it’s not a regular lake, it’s a Rift Valley, A massive crack in the earth’s crust where the continental plates are pulling apart. It’s over 5,000 feet deep and contains one-fifth of all freshwater on Earth. Luckily, its not any more deadly than a normal lake. It just happens to be very, very, freakishly deep. My rating for this lake is a 2/10 because I really hate looking at the depth charts but just looking at the lake itself isn’t that scary.
Jacob’s Well, Texas
This “well” is actually the opening to an underwater cave system. It’s roughly 120 feet deep, surrounded by very shallow water. This area is safe to swim in, but diving into the well can be deadly. The cave system below has false exits and narrow passages, resulting in multiple divers getting trapped and dying. My rating is a 3/10, because although I hate seeing that drop into the abyss it’s a pretty safe place to swim as long as you don’t go down into the cave (which I sure as shit won’t).
The Devil’s Kettle, Minnesota
This is an area in the Brule River where half the river just disappears. It literally falls into a hole and is never seen again. Scientists have dropped in dye, ping pong balls, and other things to try and figure out where it goes, and the things they drop in never resurface. Rating is 4/10 because Sometimes I worry I’m going to fall into it.
Flathead Lake, Montana
Everyone has probably seen this picture accompanied by a description about how this lake is actually hundreds of feet deep but just looks shallow because the water is so clear. If that were the case, this would definitely rank higher, but that claim is mostly bull. Look at the shadow of the raft. If it were hundreds of feet deep, the shadow would look like a tiny speck. Flathead lake does get very deep, but the spot the picture was taken in is fairly shallow. You can’t see the bottom in the deep parts. However, having freakishly clear water means you can see exactly where the sandy bottom drops off into blackness, so this still ranks a 5/10.
The Lower Congo River, multiple countries
Most of the Congo is a pretty normal, if large, River. In the lower section of it, however, lurks a disturbing surprise: massive underwater canyons that plunge down to 720 feet. The fish that live down there resemble cave fish, having no color, no eyes, and special sensory organs to find their way in the dark. These canyons are so sheer that they create massive rapids, wild currents and vortexes that can very easily kill you if you fall in. A solid 6/10, would not go there.
Little Crater Lake, Oregon
On first glance this lake doesn’t look too scary. It ranks this high because I really don’t like the sheer drop off and how clear it is (because it shows you exactly how deep it goes). This lake is about 100 feet across and 45 feet deep, and I strongly feel that this is too deep for such a small lake. Also, the water is freezing, and if you fall into the lake your muscles will seize up and you’ll sink and drown. I don’t like that either. 7/10.
Grand Turk 7,000 ft drop off
No. 8/10. I hate it.
Gulf of Corryvreckan, Scotland
Due to a quirk in the sea floor, there is a permanent whirlpool here. This isn’t one of those things that looks scary but actually won’t hurt you, either. It absolutely will suck you down if you get too close. Scientists threw a mannequin with a depth gauge into it and when it was recovered the gauge showed it went down to over 600 feet. If you fall into this whirlpool you will die. 9/10 because this seems like something that should only be in movies.
The Bolton Strid, England
This looks like an adorable little creek in the English countryside but it’s not. Its really not. Statistically speaking, this is the most deadly body of water in the world. It has a 100% mortality rate. There is no recorded case of anyone falling into this river and coming out alive. This is because, a little ways upstream, this isn’t a cute little creek. It’s the River Wharfe, a river approximately 30 feet wide. This river is forced through a tiny crack in the earth, essentially turning it on its side. Now, instead of being 30 feet wide and 6 feet deep, it’s 6 feet wide and 30 feet deep (estimated, because no one actually knows how deep the Strid is). The currents are deadly fast. The banks are extremely undercut and the river has created caves, tunnels and holes for things (like bodies) to get trapped in. The innocent appearance of the Strid makes this place a death trap, because people assume it’s only knee-deep and step in to never be seen again. I hate this river. I have nightmares about it. I will never go to England just because I don’t want to be in the same country as this people-swallowing stream. 10/10, I live in constant fear of this place.
Honorable mention: The Quarry, Pennsylvania
I don’t know if that’s it’s actual name. This lake gets an honorable mention not because it’s particularly deep or dangerous, but it’s where I almost drowned during a scuba diving accident.
Edit: I’ve looked up the name of the quarry, it’s called Crusty’s Quarry and is privately owned and only used for training purposes, not recreational diving.
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For those of you who aren't familiar, I live in an exceptionally flammable part of the United States, and despite the fact that every goddamn year multiple parts of my state catch fire, destroy homes and kill people, the local assholes insist on getting drunk and setting fire to a bunch of illegal explosives anyway.
In 2023, God granted me a Miracle that prevented my house from burning down.
Last year, I had to resort to Psychological and Chemical Warfare to keep the patriotic arsonists at bay.
This year is apparently An Important Birthday for the clusterfuck we have the nerve to call a nation, so despite the fact there is so much smoke in the air that the sun has literally been blood red for the last week, the pyrotechnic fetishists are out in force.
Last year, I hit upon the concept that if my neighbors were going to act like problem animals, it would make sense to use the management techniques on them that you might use on say, a Bear that was doing serious property damage. Thusly, I created The Stench, a nontoxic but FOUL smelling concoction that I could discretely spray around the flammable gatherings and render the area extremely uncomfortable to occupy for the rest of the night, forcing them to give up or move on.
If this seems harsh:
There is no story from 2024 because a grass fire was started by fireworks less than 12 miles from me and the high winds put me in the evacuation zone in under an hour.
Over fifty people lost their homes.
Errant fireworks burning my house down is a very real possibility, and I pay the price in anxiety and insurance premiums.
The Stench is noxious but harmless, and also very effective at building a buffer zone around my home. But sneaking up to parties on foot in this heat is both exhausting and nerve-wracking. There have to be more effective ways to do this
-And there is!
It involves Weeds and Business Cards :)
All of this spring, I've been battling Bindweed and my City Code Enforcement Officers.
The city code people have been professional, but the truth is that one of my neighbors is calling them on use because one of my housemates is transgender. It's extremely grating to get these notices, having to explain repeatedly that I *AM* working on the weed situation, I just have a heart condition and No Money. It's also deeply paranoia-inducing to know that the city is regularly coming by and photographing my house.
The Solution to the Bindweed is 1 gallon of high-concentration vinegar, half a cup of Borax, a quarter cup of salt, and a couple tablespoons of dish soap. Get one of those weed sprayers from a hardware store and mix it up in there. Spray it on your thistles, bindweed, kudzu, garlic mustard or whatever your local herbaceous invasive is on a day with bright sunlight, and in a few hours the entire part of the plant above the soil is Deceased. It's non-toxic to insects, pets and wildlife (just wait a few months before trying to plant anything in the area for the traces to wash out).
The only real downside to this stuff is that it smells HEINOUS.
Sure, The Stench is nauseating, but WeedFucker 5000 is genuinely painful to inhale. Again, it wont hurt people- even my asthmatic housemates can use the stuff- but boy howdy it sure smells toxic. I've got the ingredients for about 40 gallons of WeedFucker 5000 prepared and ready to go.
I've also got a disposable hazmat suit, rubber boots and gloves, respirator, goggles and a shitty little golf cart from the free section of craigslist to haul my shit around in.
I also have Business Cards!
See, the very nice officers from the City Code department left some Very Nice business cards so that I may contact them about "the fucking bindweed is gone, get off my back".
So I scanned the business card into my computer, fired up Clip Studio, and made my own business cards. I've turned my City's Abstract Triangle Logo into an Eye of Providence and the slogan of "E Pluribus Unum" to "E Plurbis Anus", Changed my city's name to a dumb pun, and stated the card originates from "The Department Of Public Nuisances".
Crucially, where the name and contact information of the real city employee has been replaced with the name and business email of the neighbor who has been bragging on facebook about calling the city code department on my home because he hates my housemate :)
It looks, at a glance, very much like the business cards of city employees. If you look at it for like 5 seconds though, there's no way it could be mistaken for the real thing.
I've printed out 500 of these bad boys and will have them on hand as I, a put-upon employee, am forced to work overtime on a national holiday doing weed mitigation, because my boss can't manage deadlines for shit.
You're mad about it? I've been out here since 5 AM! But if we don't finish by the deadline we lose the contract and I could get fired. You know what the economy is.
Here, this is my Boss's Business card- how about you send him an email about how this has ruined your barbecue?
It's golden hour now, so I'm Suiting Up and preparing to embark on some civil service in the form of Noxious Weed Eradication, and by coincidence, Fire Mitigation.
I'll report back later Tonight🫡
(If you'd like to support your local disabled storyteller in their Acts Of Public Service, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or supporting me on Patreon)
Well.
It's not quite an hour into July 5th.
I am very tired, may have destroyed my sense of smell, and am not sure if I'm proud of or VERY disappointed in my fellow citizens.
On one hand: FAR fewer fireworks parties this year!
- Only nine to last year's thirteen
- three of them had the good sense to be firing their recreational explosives out over the local reservoir
- That's far from foolproof
- and really bad for the fish
- also y'all are RIGHT NEXT to where the Bald Eagles are nesting
- but congratulations on at least attempting some risk mitigation!
On the other hand.
Absolutely NOBODY questioned why the hell I was out spraying weeds.
- In a Hazmat Suit (technically it's a coverall for painting rooms, which is much more breathable, but looks the part)
- In a Residential Area
- After Dark
- On a Federal Holiday
Like I'm glad I didn't get into a fight or something, but like.
I was Ready.
I had that conversation locked and loaded.
I MADE BUSINESS CARDS.
...But instead of Very Reasonably asking What The Fuck I Was Doing, the crowds at these parties saw me (5'0" flat, potato-shaped, sweating profusely) trundling up on the slowest and least-intimidating motor vehicle in the county*, hanging a bit out the side to spray thistles and bindweed on the streets and sidewalks**, and instead of raising a rival stink, I was instead greeted by some derisive muttering and a couple of "OH COME ON!"s, but the groups dispersed and retreated indoors or at least away from the general direction of my home.
*Like genuinely, I think Barbie's Dream Car has more horsepower than this golf cart. This thing doesn't have horsepower. It doesn't even have ponypower. It's running on duckpower. It waddles, something I didn't know a wheeled vehicle could do.
**Actually completely legal and a welcome community service in my city. Thank you Neighbor Barbara for telling me the exact part of city code that details what civilians are allowed to do about weeds on public roads, which is apparently "LOTS". Theoretically I could bill the city for my time tonight.
Do people not know how to Make A Scene anymore?
I was absolutely sure I was going to get filmed and shit thrown at me, or someone would call the cops. My beloved was terrified I was going to get shot. I at least had ONE woman shout "YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!" at me, which isn't quite as good as being told I'm ruining Christmas, but she said it with a genuinely heartwarming anguish while gesturing to a homemade "HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!" banner, with an attempt at rendering The Evil Orange that as so enthusiastically yet talentlessly executed I almost stopped to get a picture of it. He looked like he'd been put in a wafflemaker.
I promised my beloved that I would turn around and come home at midnight, and I did, having eliminated every fireworks party and Scottish thistle in a five-block radius despite the lackadaisical maximum speed of my Steel Steed.
The complete lack of protest is honestly shocking to me. My flabbers are completely gasted. I waddled home on the golf cart in a sort of stunned silence that this HAS worked so well. The whole world is almost eerily quiet, and reeking of vinegar.
...Which is maybe why I didn't notice the cop pulling up beside me at a red light until he rolled down his window and leaned out at me.
"WHAT'RE YOU DOIN'?" He asked, in a voice that could be used as a foghorn in emergencies.
I probably would have jumped were I not currently melting into a semblance of the Chernobyl Elephant's Foot in the heat, which was the first thing that saved me.
The second was the voice of my Grandfather, coming to my aid through decades of generational memory, to tell me his words of wisdom, usually spoken right before doing something wildly inadvisable:
The Age Of Miracles Is Not Yet Over.
"Weed Mitigation!" I called back.
"CHRIST ON A BIKE, THEY GOT YOU GUYS WORKING THE HOLIDAY TOO?" He said, in the same fontissimo as before. Apparently Officer Foghorn just talks like this.
"Yep." I nodded.
"SHIT." He blared in solidarity. "WHEN DO YOU GET OFF?"
"Just finished."
"MOTHERFUCKER. THEY GOT ME OUT HERE UNTIL GODDAMN 5 AM." Officer Foghorn whined in THX.
"Shit." I commiserated.
The light turned green.
"ALRIGHT YOU GET HOME SAFE! GOD BLESS!" He waved, and drove off at something significantly above the speed limit, and I trundled on home.
I must have still looked shocked when I came in, because My Beloved immediately got up to hug me and ask if I was alright.
"The Age Of Miracles Is Not Yet Over." I nodded slowly as the animals all battered me about the legs for attention. "...For real though, absolutely nothing happened."
"What?" he squints, wobbling slightly as Charlie tries to shove him aside for better access to me. "That's... Is it weird to say I'm almost disappointed?"
"I mean, I confirmed that I inherited my Grandfather's supernatural ability to get out of trouble for no good reason, but we knew that from the code enforcement people." I shrugged. Selene finally noticed the smell of vinegar and retched in disapproval.
"How about a shower and some Ice cream?" My Beloved suggests.
So now it is July the 5th.
- My house is not ablaze
- There are four medium-sized carnivores sleeping on me
- I am freshly bathed
- and I have a pint of Americone Dream all to myself
Here's to you, your health and your happiness, and a reminder to go make good trouble. Goodnight all.
---
(If you enjoy reading about my adventures (and the occasional curious non-adventure) I'd appreciate it if you could tip me on Ko-Fi. Apparently my Patreon link is fucked but it's basically 1 in the morning and I can't be arsed.)
I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.
-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a
~*Spiritual Experience*~
I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.
Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.
He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only
BARELY
enough space for the fireworks
and certainly none for his truck.
So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand.
This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.
He begins,
and this is crucial to what happens next,
by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it
unsecured
on his lawn.
Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.
His process for unloading the fireworks is to
1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls.
2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile
He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things.
3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed
4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup.
5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her.
6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house.
7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too.
8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate
9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed
10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.
Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man?
Answer: Absolutely Not.
There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else.
(This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual)
Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally.
Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.
I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.
However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up.
and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop"
And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."
For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."
I move under the eaves.
"Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled."
"Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not."
"Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."
Sometimes,
the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.
The Gods were not merciful today.
It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this,
But I got to see it today.
Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before.
Oh. I realized as it got closer.
That's RAIN.
Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say,
five to tent square miles,
is instead concentrated into an area of say,
my neighborhood exactly.
So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.
The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel.
Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge.
Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.
My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp.
They do not have a tarp.
They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.
Which is when the hail begins.
"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy.
"HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!"
"OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"
I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic.
The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor.
Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.
So.
I was raised Agnostic
-but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.
---
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What I like about that Tolkien letter is that it’s a reminder that stories don’t present themselves fully formed. This seems an obvious thing to say, but I think people sometimes forget it while writing. Tolkien is pointing out the underrated and essential part of writing which is “going away and having a big think about things” or, in other words, “imagining”.
You have to make stuff up before you can write about it, and that mostly involves inhabiting the spaces and minds of the places and people you’re writing about. Most of that won’t ever appear on the page. Tolkien’s case is different in a couple of ways. Firstly, the sheer extent of the world he’s imagining. (Of course the book takes years to write! He’s making up the history of Númenor and Gondor from thin air!) Secondly, we have unusual access to his world-building materials in the Appendices, which makes the book feel even more fully formed and authoritative. We also have unusual access to his creative process in HoMe. It’s fucking incredible watching Númenor get invented. People joke that Tolkien didn’t finish things, and use his Númenorean time travel story as an example (Lewis publishes the reciprocal three book space travel stories). But that material IS published in a deeply meaningful way. It’s the whole texture that supplies the unique depth and believability of The Lord of the Rings. Sometimes people joke, “Oh, Tolkien barely published!” Yes, but he published The Lord of the fucking Rings. And an essay that revolutionised the study of Beowulf. I’d take that.
This quote also by necessity downplays the rewriting process of LotR which of course was years of painstaking craft and revision, and is its own story. But, yes, of course these things didn’t exist! He had to make them up! So if in doubt, go away and lie in the hammock or on the bed and gaze into nothing and really think about what the world of your story is like and how it feels and what it must be like to be inside the minds of the made-up people whose lives, for some bizarre reason, you want to make up. This actually is part of the work and it’s not frenetic. And there’s no real shortcut. But what is nicer? Why rush this?
(I read an excellent story fairly recently which was clamouring for a sequel. The writer knew this, and was trying to write it, but was stuck and had been for a couple of years. I suspect the writer was trying to pick up directly after the dramatic events of the written story and progress from there. But that would be retelling the initial story, and why do that? It’s already told. That work is done. No wonder they were stuck. I think this is particularly difficult if the story has been extremely successful (which it was) and a creative stretch (which I suspect it was) because the temptation to go back to that well must be overwhelming. But that well has been drawn upon. The solution most likely would be to pick up with the characters a few years down the line and see where they were now. In which case of course the sequel will take a couple of years to write because the writer would need a while to detach from the deep immersion of the previous story, and the time to immerse in and explore a new reality. Often we don’t talk about these aspects of creative practice which I think can leave them very bewildering and confusing. Lots of things happened to me between Enigma Tales and TEoTDB, and lots of books too, but one thing that’s probably of interest only to me, but is of enduring interest to me, is observing the difference between something you might write in your early 40s and something you might write in your early 50s. This relates both to reasons and need for writing a story, and the changes in competence and craft after ten more years practice.)
Yes, so, if you are stuck, one question you can ask yourself is, “Have I hit the limits of what I’ve imagined?” If the answer is “yes” go for a walk or a think or whatever. There will be no point trying to write further because there isn’t anything there yet to write. You can draw on habits and shortcuts and experience to a certain extent but that won’t always be your best work.
jacobvanloon
2087
prguitarman
snowghoul
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
