insomnia, storms, little brother and powerless.

as usual for a weekend, i went to bed quite late last night.  well, it was about 1:30 this morning, actually.  but i couldn't sleep. 

for three reasons.

the first was that it was hot and muggy.  about this, i won't complain.  it's inconvenient, sure, but this country can be so effing cold and miserable at times, that i refuse to complain when it's hot, as a matter of principle.  i love the hot weather, even if it makes me dopey and listless, it's still better than being cold!  also, it's the sort of weather that produces one of my favourite things in the whole world.  we spent a good half hour last night, dangling our legs out of our bedoom window watching a storm at about seven miles distance.  *sigh*  it was the first of the year, and utter bliss.  it was perfectly still, and the clouds were lighting up in the distance with that unearthly beauty you only get on summer nights.

the second was that i had a new story idea knocking on my brain.  this, of course, pleased me.  i haven't been writing a lot, lately, as i have other things on my mind, and it's kind of hard to settle to it,  but i'm thrilled that i'm still thinking as a writer, even wen i'm not writing.  to me, it's another tiny step towards that place i want to be - someone who needs to write.  (heh - in writing that, i realised that what i'm doing is attempting to cultivate an addiction.  naughty Squeaky! *grin*)  i spent a lot of time thinking about this story, and how it might go - disconnected elements i might throw in, and i hope it will be the backbone of this year's NaNoWriMo effort, but we'll have to see.  i know little about it, just how it starts and, as i said, one or two random bits that may or may not be in the middle.  it sort of stems from the description duel i was involved in at the beginning of the year.  i had an idea there might be more to it at the time, but for some reason, it started to put some roots into the story silt last night.  but i'm not going to chase it.  with me, that doesn't seem to be the way forward.  nor planning a story arc or indeed (as i think i've mentioned before) outlining a plot.  somehow, it loses the excitement of the writing.  it makes me wonder if that's because i started writing with NaNoWriMo - that heady, exciting, headlong rush down the pathways of the story seems to have set itself as the pattern for me.  i'm not a thoughtful, introspective type of person.  and, if i'm honest, those sort of books don't generally float my boat.  what can i say?  i'm instinctive, impulsive and exciteable, and very much enjoy that kind of book, too.

which sort of brings me to the third reason that i couldn't sleep.  i'd been reading a book that filled my brain with fireworks, both good and bad.  i read half of it yesterday, and half of it today.  and i urge you, as an internet user, to do the same.  the book is called "Little Brother" by a man named Cory Doctorow.  it's about  how the surveillance culture that we live in can go horribly, horribly wrong.  it's about security, and privacy, and (most attractively for me, as i always, *always* wanted to be like this) about a bunch of geeky teenagers who take on the might of The Man.  And Kick. His. Ass.  it's *really* exciting, and explains some of the arcana of the internet in a way i could just about grasp.  and it was fascinating.

truly - geeks are the future.

sadly, i think i'm possibly too old to become any kind of computer/communications geek now, and my mathematical understanding is most assuredly not up to the job.  but i have such a huge admiration for geeks of *every* stripe - not just the electronic ones.  if there's any sort of justice around, never mind the meek inheriting the earth - i think the geeks should.

speaking of books wot i haz read, i would like to bring your attention to another one whilst (or, rather, *if*) i still have your ear.  this one is the first in a YA fantasy series.  Powerless Book 1: The Synthesis is written by Jason Letts, also known as @foreverjuly .  you may have seen him wandering around on Twitter at odd hours of the day or night (he teaches English in Japan), being alternately philosophical and subversve.  he's a lovely guy, and i urge you to get online and buy the book.  i spent a short while dropping one or two reviews on amazon.com, smashwords, LibraryThing and GoodReads this afternoon.  i did it gladly and with pleasure, since i enjoyed the book, and we all like to help each other out, don't we?  best thing about the internet, i think, actually - there truly is a kind, helpful, sharing culture out there, and i'm lucky enough to know/communicate with some of the loveliest promoters of that phiosophy, who promote it simply by being themselves.  it gives me the warm fuzzies on a reguar basis.  anyway, here's what i had to say about it:

"I enjoyed this book very much. The main character is warm and giving, the supporting characters are human and three-dimensional, and the story and the world it is set in are well-thought-out, detailed, engaging, exciting and interesting. It's an excellent and thoughtful debut, and I'm really looking forward to reading the rest of the series."

seriously - go buy it, and read it - it rocks!  ;o)

---

there was another storm this morning, at about seven o'clock.  right over our heads.  the thunder woke me up with a jump - the only time i don't mind being woken by sudden a loud noise.  it was absolutely lovely.  the rain had cooled the air as it hammered down, the lightning was fresh and clean, and the crashing and rumbling of the thunder was just so deliciously comfortng.  it swells my heart with bliss to remember it, and it lulled me back to sleep with a smile on my face.

.

oh, bugger! #2

ALSO forgot to mention (and how COULD I???) that i am currently engaged in a description duel with more twitterfriends: @scupperlout @nwfoodie and possibly @TheFirstCarol, though she is undecided, yet. @jenku70 (Jens) is the judge (and possibly carol, if she decides not to participate in the duel / trial(?))
Jens picked some photos, and we must describe the scene as if in a novel / short story. let's see if i can cut and paste my entry, shall we, dear reader?....

1.

The autumn day was cool and damp. On a day like this, when the air was fresh on his skin, smelling faintly of leaf mould and the promise of winter, he wanted to be outside.
Strolling along an anonymous back street, marvelling at how people managed to get their cars in and out of the closely-crammed lines on either side, he idly scratched an itch at the back of his head.
The itch refused to be scratched.
Then he realised – the itch was not on his scalp, but inside his head. As he came upon a knackered blue fiat, the itch flared into pain, as he met the malevolent stare of the black cat sitting, hunched and still, on the bonnet. Its ginger companion stared far away into a place that only he could see.
As the pain grew and set fire to his mind, he realised, with dread, that he had strolled down the wrong street, and these were not mere cats, but guardians.
And they would make him pay for his trespass.


2.


Jim couldn’t believe his luck.
How many times, if ever, do you spy a half-dressed raven-haired honey running full pelt down a busy city street, making a beeline for you? He knew she was heading for him, since her dark eyes never left his face as she ran.
“Oh, wow!” was all he could think.
“Oh, wow!” as she drew nearer and nearer.
He just couldn’t help the broad and (he hoped) welcoming smile that spread across his features as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
The smile, however, was instantly replaced by a grimace of wide-eyed terror as her intense stare nailed him to the pavement, and she drew two of the biggest hand cannons that Jim had ever seen – in or out of the movies.
“Down.” She ordered, quietly.
Jim hit the flagstones an instant later and, as the guns went off, heard twin thuds on the pavement behind him.


3.

Venice. Romantic Italian city-state. Home of the masque, of art, and of decadence.
Grey, wretched, filled with the noxious smell from the lagoons, and absolutely pissing down.
The little boats bobbing on the canal reminded her of children on a school trip to Buxton in the wintertime.
He had sent her a picture of this place, saying “Meet me here, and I will show you delights of which you have never dared to dream.”
So she had come.
What she had found was a gloomy, empty, swamp-stinking picture of misery and decay. The buildings, stained with the damp and mould of centuries, wept in the desolate downpour.
And she wept with them, mourning her shattered romantic dreams.


4.

The lowering evening sun struck diamonds from the ice that sparkled all around her. Her mermaid’s body rose up, the tail just out of sight beneath the steely surface of the still water. She was young, softly rounded, and utterly beguiling in her freedom from care or reserve.
Smiling into the sunset, she stretched luxuriantly in her icy bath, seen by no-one but a swan, making his stately way over the ice, on business of his own.

damn! STILL no pictures!

oh, well, the judge(s?) has it now - it is out of my hands. however, it was a very pleasant and rather fun way to spend a saturday night, and i would reccomend it to anyone... :)