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Fantasy Waltz: Midweek Serenade

Happy Wednesday on Thursday, everyone. I am being sneaky here, and presenting you with a musical interlude from my upcoming musical album. The ninth track is still being composed but I wanted to share this one with you.

I have decided to use Vimeo for sharing this album. It’s so quiet over on Vimeo because there are no ads interrupting my flow and messing with my mojo. I never have to worry about some rando screaming at me in every language to give him my life savings.

The video was created on Canva with one of my logo images as the backdrop. Hope you like the joyful feeling you get when listening to this track.

Thank you for listening.

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Instagram’s smart tech is a loving me thing

It is Saturday afternoon and as I write this, I am waiting for a meeting to resume. Unfortunately, two expatriates seated at the far corner of the conference room are talking loudly about assorted bedroom activities. I gather that the man is gay and his friend is a married straight woman. I suppose they are comparing notes?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio

It was impossible to hear myself think, so I am standing near an open window to let the sound of traffic drown out their voices. And while I am here, I thought it would be good idea to update you with my Instagram goings on.

At the moment, I’m hardly posting on Instagram. But for the past eight days, every 23 hours to the hour, I see that I have 25 new followers. This exact number, at exactly the same time, tells me that this is the work of a machine. 

Remember that last year, Instagram was burning my posts. And now, after two months on the platform, the smart tech is working for me. I was advised in a Clubhouse room, a couple of months ago, that Instagram was doing a big reset. I was also advised to take advantage because this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. The problem is that I am an introvert and going live on video will never happen. Because of that, I needed a modified approach.

Photo by Tim Gouw

Here is what happened after two months and 18 reels, 3 (15-second) stories daily, no lingerie selfies, and zero live posts. I am at 472 followers. My account is growing every day, so I will continue on this path. (If only Twitter were as malleable).

Metrics 

  1. This is a business account. 
  2. I do not pay for ads which means that all of my engagement is organic. 
  3. All of the new followers brought over from Instagram’s smart tech are 85% artists in the NFT community, 5% follower boosting accounts and 10% crypto investors. 
  4. Quite a number of my other followers are from Clubhouse. The apps share data with each other. Instagram will automatically suggest my account to anyone following me over there and vice versa.
Photo by Fiona Art

Posts and engagement  

  1. After my first five posts, I started posting reels in the form of animated videos showcasing my artwork. 
  2. Avoid captions. Only a few of my reels have them. Instead, I tell a story in a slideshow or MP4 video. 
  3. Nearly zero hashtags on posts or reels. Instagram treats hashtags like spam. 
  4. Edit all videos or images (to create a slideshow) in the IG native editor using filters.
  5. Add music and carefully choose clips within the song to match the story. Music choice is the number one compliment I have received so far. People seem to have a positive emotional reaction my artwork because of the music. 
  6. Repost my own reels/posts to stories. 
  7. Hashtags only in stories – limited to one per story and this is always NFT related. 
  8. Follow back as many accounts as possible. Check occasionally to make sure that all followed accounts are active. 
  9. Restrict spammy, fake looking accounts and never follow sales people (crypto investors). 
  10. Reply to all comments and respond to private messages. Delete messages I don’t want to answer. Accounts look spammy if they don’t talk to each other. 
  11. Mute accounts that post more than 5 reels in one hour. These kinds of accounts rarely engage with my posts. Then I look spammy to the smart tech. 
  12. Visit new followers’ profiles and engage with posts. 
  13. Engage with my timeline. Hide, mute, like or share posts to friends.
  14. Join live broadcasts even for a few minutes. Send comments and reactions while there. This signals that I am a real person.
  15. Engage with my followers’ stories by sending reactions and comments. Gauge feedback to these and mute accounts that are not responsive. 
  16. Remix posts from active followers and share them to my stories. Add music, fun stickers, gifs, scribbles, text and mentions.
  17. When a follower adds the above remix in their stories, immediately share to my stories.
  18. Use voice memos or calls where possible. 
Photo by Steve Johnson

If you are interested in testing this approach, try it on your Instagram account. I must point out that I am niche specific. I am an artist in the NFT community. I focus on graphic design and I’m interested in paintings from visual artists. And though I never tell Instagram what my specific niches are by using captions or hashtags, the smart tech introduced me to blockchain specialists, abstract painters and 3D/animation artists in the NFT space. Then, bear in mind that I spend no more than 30 minutes a day creating at least three stories. I also respond to all of my messages.

No selfies, no bikinis, no bare butts. Only plenty of good music, interesting stickers, and artwork to inspire me. Best of luck.

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art creative writing science fiction technology writing

Weaving Silk

Sculpting with light on the Silk web app

Happy Thursday, everyone. I am having an epiphany after using AI software to sculpt with light. It was an interesting conversation, with much guesswork on both our parts, but I think we understand each other. I am using the Silk web app for a second day in a row. If you want to try from your desktop browser, it takes a lot of tapping around, but eventually, you will get used to it.

Layered

Back to my epiphany. I wonder if anyone reading this is familiar with the hypothesis that we are living in a simulation? By familiar, I don’t meant listening to Elon Musk worshippers who say, “Our world is a simulation”. I mean have you looked at the math and tried to weave a hypothesis on your own?

I have some thoughts about this. The math says that in a complete simulation, the processor speed would intervene in the operations of the simulation. Put differently, if there is no level five of a video game, a genius player will spool for eternity at the end screen of level four. At some point, this player will resist every attempt to gaslight him about what’s going on.

Sainted

Some scientists have taken plant-based substances in order to access the cheat codes and escape the program. They seem not clever enough to acknowledge that they lack the correct plugins to decode what they are experiencing. Or perhaps they use the math as an excuse to go on trips and escape the truth, which is that a genius rigged this game and coded them into it.

Many trips later, they are left with a pile of printouts on their office floors, and no-one knows what they are talking about.

Blended

PS: Thank you for viewing my video installation. If you are using social media to share your work, and your reach is low, do not take it personally. Yesterday, the results of my first attempt at light sculpting went viral on Instagram. I was getting audio messages to please post more. Weirdly, the same presentation had only a few views on Twitter because the smart tech did not show it to anyone. The same thing happened this morning, with this version, so I will have to rethink the “get seen on Twitter” theory that is being sold to digital artists. Glad this is happening now and not when I have something major to release. Have a great Thursday.

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Scrum Mastered

Scrum for creative focus

Are your goals clearly defined? Your next step is to collaborate with likeminded individuals. Work with practical, updated information. Record results and refine your process as you go. To master the practice of scrum, recognise when it is necessary to regroup and realign. Then do it.

Screen caps from the desktop version

The first iteration of this installation was a mass of crawling text that broke WordPress. Yay! But after it broke my phone’s browser, I decided to update this post with a collage of screen caps from Reader and the main site.

Glitched text on main page and in Reader.

Thankfully, I had saved the screen caps for the tweet design below, so it was easy to make another pass with the two typography posters. I hope you enjoy them.

It’s art and it is business
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Everyone wants the cherry on top but it takes work to get there

Commitment Cupcake

Does anyone remember who said, “Follow your joy”? I think this quote is popular because everyone can imagine feeling happy at the final stage of a project. Recently, I told Caring for Art that my nightmares have become work product. I was not exaggerating. Public speakers will never tell you that you must hard work to find the thing to which you can happily commit. If they told you to face reality, nobody would pay them $50,000 to talk about themselves for 30 minutes.

And because I know that the truth is hard to hear, I feel confident that no-one will copy my secret formula, which I am going to share in this post. This is my recipe for staying committed and focused on the way to finding joy. First read it, then scroll down for a taste test. 

🧁 Commitment Cupcake 🧁

Ingredients
Absolutely everything real about you right now. 

Directions 

  1. Write down every idea you have but stay loosely attached.
  2. Seek advice from qualified experts. 
  3. Listen to advice and evaluate for quality.  
  4. Search for useful ideas in negative feedback.
  5. Be assertive but never argue, no matter what.
  6. Lose fixation on irrelevant details.
  7. Shut down anyone who attempts to devalue you. 
  8. Transfer your idea from a “hard” medium to a “soft” one. 
  9. Follow up on each new idea (see item 1).  
  10. Table, pin, or expunge unworkable ideas. 
  11. Shred your lists.  
  12. Start over. 
  13. Keep at it. 

The taste testCovers only
Item 8 became especially important this week when my plans came to a full stop. And though I was feeling isolated and trapped, I decided to shred everything and start over.  

Contessa Magazine: Cover 2 in Icelandic

One of many ideas I had written down was “launch a magazine”. However, I threw it out because there are billions of writers, millions of magazines, and only a handful of subscribers.

From that, I imagined what it would be like for a young writer to dream of launching a magazine only to hit roadblock after roadblock. How would this writer solve these problems? The answers to that question became the treatment for a writing project. My preferred medium for presenting that story is a “hard” one, so I pinned it for later.

The transfer to a “soft” medium was a frictionless fusion of my interests. After careful research, I did some math: photography + fashion + world cultures + health + making stuff up + graphic design = a concept that I really like.

That is to say, I will only produce the covers. I’ve posted two test copies for you and I hope you like them. 

Contessa Magazine: Cover 1 in English
(Spoiled it, so don’t look too closely)

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People

I just wanna (love) you over

I just wanna (love) you over
Are you moved by the spirit?

If you’re an artist and you feel apprehensive about showing your work, don’t overthink it. Please take a good look at that page of a fashion magazine. I really like it because it shows you don’t need to have the best handwriting ever to use yours as art.

I had one of those days when I felt truly ****** over and it seemed appropriate to scratch something meta on the side. Then, in a different magazine, I found a monochrome photograph of a man’s left hand. I cut it out, dressed it up, and put it in a box. As I photographed it, I realised I had a fun throwback story for Thursday.

Collage from magazine prints and other objects
Skin care for a dry, paper hand

A few years ago, I was approached by a chocolatier out of the blue. Chocolate-making is profitable here, so they were adding a bistro to their shop. They needed a huge favour. They said, we heard that your handwriting is totally unreadable so we want to use it for our handwritten menu cards so that nobody can say we copied theirs. Plus, we don’t know how to translate katakana to French with proper spelling because we don’t know foreign languages.

And I was like, okay.

Daiso is successful because they give good quality advice
Daiso gives good quality advice

The bistro was a gorgeous, modern, stone structure with stained wood interiors and a sunken kitchen. While I sat there staring at the printed out pages of the menu, the chef brought out the first plate of the tasting menu.

One of my friends, who decided she was going to come along and watch, was the designated taster. And she was elated at the chance to eat gourmet food for two hours while I chicken-scratched on menu cards in two languages.

I have to say I really enjoyed that job.

Hoping you have a great Thursday.

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I’m an artist and I’m allowed

3̵̢̡̢̧͕̻̝̝̫͔̠͙͈͙͎̺̙͎̝̣̫͍̰̪͈͙̲̳̩̹̥͍͇̳̲̭̗́̏̾͆̑̌̔̿̏̌̃̂̀̿̏͆̿̅͆͊̒͛͂̄̑̚̚͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̨͓̮̍̈́̾́̉̉̂̽̔̀͌̎̂̋͊̈́͑̔̽̓̋͊̃̅͂̕͠͝3̵̢̧̧̧̺̰͉͕̰͔̩̫̪̗̭͇͚̘͈̰͓̬̩̘͓͔̝̪̭͙̫̟͓̮͓̰͇̗̥͍́̀̄̔̈́͒͛̑̊͗̚̕͜ͅ ̴̡̨̢̧̡̥̱̺̯̤̫̠͔̬̭̯̥̮̱̺̹̻̩̠̩̩̯̼̮͇̱̠̬͈̹̘̑̋̀3̶̨̖̦͈͋͛̈̈́́̂̿́̅̆͌͂̐̎̆͋̔͆̚͝ ̷̤̘̖͔͈̤̗̽̾̿̇̀̔̉̀͋̏́̎͂͛̂͌̈́̚I̶̧̢̛̛̤̣̪̞̖̯͔͖̣̞̘͍̘̳̘͈͙͔̱͛͒͆͒́̀̈́̐͗͗́͆̔́̐̈́̇̐̈́̀̑͋̓̈͛̍̏̇͛̇̄̚͜͜͝͠͝͝ ̵̢̡̧̢͓̗̳͍̘̥̮̜̯̺͍̫̤̱̮̻͚͓̠̲̪͕̭͓̤̲͉̻̭̗̼́̏͑͝a̶̠̗̳͚͕̹͖̠͚̪̫̮̹̭͇̟̩͖͋m̶̧̧̛̪̻̖͓̮͙͉̪̲͔̀̓̈̀̽́̈́̿̅̓̄̽͗͂̈́̀̈́̏̓̔̈́̈́̄̇̇̓̆̾̈́̚̕͝͠ ̷̡̡̧̦̙̝̯̝̱͍̱̪͔̣͈͙͙̠̫̠͕͖̩̭̭͙̦̹͈̪͉͇̏̀̽̈́͗̆́̅͝͠a̶̡̨̢̨̯̝͙͎͔̙̤̬̘̬̰͓̗̼͖͚͕̖̬̬͈͚̐̎̆͑̒̈́̇̓̇͗̎̓̽͐̾̐̽̉͐̕̕͠ņ̵̧̧̨̧͍̜̼͖̩̤̖̭̞̪̲͉̼̔̌̀̕̚͝ͅ ̸̨̡̧̛̠̭͖̹͚̬͓̩̭̬̪̜̟̞̬͇̭̯̫̫͙͙͙̰̼͚̻͉̫̥̰̖̻̻̝͎̰̲̟̊͒̎̎͆͆͛͛̈̏̐̆̇̓̅̇͗͒̈̄͒̽͑̈́̀̕͘̚a̶̧͍͖͖͙̝̫̬̩̺̮̭̦̠͔̗̗̥͎͛̈̀̀̚͠r̴̡̢̡̜̳̦͙̰̥̖͖͍̜͎̺̬͓̟̝̻̪̗͍̳͈͉̥̫̪̘̹̟̼̣̔̾ţ̴̧̡̛͈̝̭̮̹̣̭̠͕̝̰̭̙̱͕̱̭̲̞͕̤̭̘̻̼̙̓́̿̉̄͑̊̈́̓̈́̐̍̒͂̔̂̅͘͜͝ḯ̵̢̡̨̢̦̮̮̪̱̹͙̜̳͚̻̜̟͖̪̼̹͖͔̤̫̻̻̘̘̠͚̘̼͕̑͂͗͋̈́͗̾̑͊̿͗̀̾̓̓̉̒̆̀̈́̈́̊̇̄̍͂̄̚͠s̷̢̙̼̤̫̼̗͚͆̿̍͒̇̓̈́̇̄́͗̑͋̏͒̃́̀̏̅̄̎̉͘͠ͅt̷̡̧̧͙͔͓̮̤͕̺̱̹̪̼̜̭̺͖̝̲̫͓̲̫͇̤̖͔͇͛̈́̑̃̀͑̐̊̈͂́͂́̕͝ ̴̡̢͕͕̩̥̳̠̣̭͈͚̰̼̪͕͙̤͕͕͚̥̩̱͓̦̫̼̉̊͒̔͛̀́́̊̀̒̾͂͗̏̌̿̀͛̈́̔̓̾̐̆̓̄͗̇̀̆̊̄̏͘͜͜͠͠ͅͅä̴̧̧̛̬̺͈̬̣̦͙̱̝̮͍̰̘̤̠̼͖͎̳̹̻̟͉̬͇̯̘̱͕̣́͐̾̆̔̇̓́̊̌̊̾̐̀͝ͅn̶̛̛̯̩̫͖̝͔̠̣͒̅̋̍͗͐͋̏́̌͑̍̂͋̈͋͛͂̍͛̒̔̓͊̃̽̀̑̉̔̈́̓̃̏͘̚̚̚͝͠͝ͅd̶̡̨̧̙͖͕͈͎͓͔̙̰̪̺̲̙̟͖̼͓̰̼̳̻͎̙͓̞̭̩̍́̋͐̒͑̐́ ̶̫̹̱̋̀̿Į̷̮͚͆̽̂̈́̿̐̇̂͆̋͐́͌̀͐̐̏͋̑̄̒͆͊͌̀͘̚̚͝͝͝ ̶̩̜͓͙̯̏͌̇͑́̽̎͒̈́̉̔̔͑̐̕̕͠a̷͎̪͐̎̽͒͐̃̓̂͂̐͐̿̀̍̋̍̈̓̄͂̇̓̈́͝͝m̸̡̨̨̢̛̛̩͎̼̦͓̣͖͉̖̝͕̖̳͇͎̩̲͖͔͓̝̗͔̙̤̭̭̘͙̤̯̪͖̮͍͕͗̀͊̅̅͋̍͂͌̀́́̋͆͐́̏̃͂̀͐́͆̀́̐͂̌͂̎͋͂̾͐̕̕͜͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅ ̸̧̡̡̖̥̳̝̦̬̙̗̲̣̓ǎ̷̡̢̛̗̳̙̯̝͉̱̫͓̳̺̤̪̜̠̱̻͍̙̦̝̤͔̊̈́̌̀͆͑̓̀̍̅̽̀͗̈͊̂̄̄͘͘̚ͅͅͅl̷͔̑͗͐̃l̸̛̙̳̫̫̖͇̪̻͓͙̖̤̞̟͈̗̭̥̬̜̳̤̥̣̃̉̈̑̅̈́͆̈́͑̓͐̐̈́̅̈́̀̂̃̏̍̉̊̈́̓̉͊̎͂̑̚̕͜͝͝͠͠͠͝ơ̷̡̡̱͙̥͈̩̫̯͎͎̹̭̭̬̥͚̰͎̪͑̐͗̃̈̃̃̿̀̈̃͂̉͂̄͋̍̂̾͋̄̑͛̑͌̈͊͒̍̕͘͝͠͝͠ẇ̶̨̛̱̳͍̫̰̤̩͈̪̥̖̝̦̘͙̞̣̻͇̘̖̯̮̗̪̤͓̱̮̜͕͍̱̰̳̳̎̌̇̄̀̐̆̊̑͘͠é̷̡̨̨̝̮̗̝̻̦͍͚͕̩̦͓̩͓̺͓̥̙̠̖̟͉̜͕̺͖͔͔̖̘̝̀̎̃̈́͌͆ͅͅd̶̢̧̛̛̛̗̞̮̮͓̮̻̟̗̭̝̰̥̪̙͕͈̬͖̟͇̻̘̏̀̀̽̑̅͋͗̓͊̈́̌̍̃̾͜͠ͅ

̸̰̳͎̰̫̳͖̫̺̤͂̄̇͌̈́͂̂͑̏̋͆̈͐̄̐̈́͑̆͐̃̈̕͝ͅc̸̡̨̧̘̪̘̥̭͕̤̻̜͇̤̬͈͓͕͍̝͐̇̀̉̎͂͑͐̀̋͗̍͆͛͆̓̈́̈́̒̈́͐͊̋̈́̏̇̚̚͘̚͠͠͝r̶̛̲̰͙̺͈̦̻̘̝̘̀̿͜͜͜ā̷̡̛̛̛̛̛̞̻̩͇̱̳̦͎̖͚̭̱̩̲̮͈͙̜̯͓̱̾̀̿͋̏̌̒͌̿̑̊̂̄̂͊͒͊̾̀̓̅͛̀͑͒̚̚͜͝͝z̷̡̛̬͈͉̩͈̯̦̣͖̣͉͍̲͉̠̩̗͎͊͑̑͒́́̀̀̀̆͌͗̽̌̓̏̾̚̕͝͠͠į̵̛̗̙͔̭̰̮̣̠̙̫̬̭̳͚͉̞͖̤̫̓͂͂̀̐̊̅͑̑̋̊̓́̀̄̓̃̒̂̋̃̏͆̎̃͊̔̉͌̏͘̕̕͜͜͠͝͠n̸̛̼̟̺̖͈̎͗̄̂̓̊́͌͂͆́̀̂̀̀͛̏̔̕͘͝ę̸̨̨̱̝̲̥̣̩̫͇̟̪̗̳̣̟̞̞̠͓͓͉̻̼̹̮̺͉̟̤͔̺͍͔̼̣̞̟̠̽̍̔̌̓̅̈́̔̊̿͗̑͗́̀̐͂̿̆̀̑͂͘̚͜͠͠͝ͅs̵̨̨̢̧̢͈͍̫͎̯͎̦̟̲̜̗̪̯̳̘̞̺̲̣͓͓̻̣̤̟̖̘̟͔̫̎̾͂̿́s̸̨̢̧̛̛͕̜̖̦̥̖̦̬̤̲̰̦̞̤̺̖̯͕̱̦͔̤̭͙̺͓̩̪̖̥͇̞̘͎̼̠̞̏̃͒̎̈́̈́̃͆͐̈́̏̎͜ͅͅͅ ̷̧̣̭̬͈̻͚̣̭̜̠̯͍̭̠̺̫̣̘̪̈͌̈́̅̒̿̈́̿̍̚̚͜ l̴̡̛͕͙̗̜̺̲͎̮͑̋̽́͛̓͊̍͒̄̀͌̊͗͐̓̀̒̎́͐͑̑̎̓̇̆̈́̏͐͘͘͘̕͜e̷̢̺͓͔͇̦̦̾͌̀̓̏̍́̈̃̌̃͒̈̌̾̍͑̅̋͂̀̉̕̚͜͝͝͝v̸̛̟̠̱͓̪̟̙̑́́̏͒̎́͆̿̀̾͂̏̈̔̃͗̕ẹ̸̢̪͕̲̖̜̙̳̪̱̙̯̙̳͓̥̱̩͚̈́̋̉̊͂̑͊̓̓͂̋̔̎̔͑͑͌̂̈́̐̓̔͊̐̇͘͠͠ͅͅļ̴̛̟̱̦̤̞̙̜̹͖̘͉͖̞͈̘̹̮̟̼͈̒̎̓́̀̎́̓͑̓̾̎͒̏̈́͌̌̍͛͌̔͗͒́͛́̍̆́̐̾̚͘͝ͅͅ ̸̢̢̢̡̫͔͓̻̱̙͇͙̜̺̙̘͔͗̂̃͋͛͑̿̈́̈́͌͠<b r≯̢̤̹̫̖̪̲͎̱̱͔͆͛̇͑̊̌͂͂̍̕̚͝t̷̛͎̝̗̜̪͚͉̝̲̲͊̀̾̈͂͑͐̀̈́́̅̈́͝͝ô̴̧̨̡̧̰̭̬͚̺̤̹̹̫͔̖̞̖̳͖̟̦̒̓́́̄̑̚͜ ̷͈͓̝̲̲̼̠͆̎̅̒̽̔̆͐̀̃͊̒͂̋̿̈́̓̈̇͒̐͋̽̒̈́͗̄̅̆̃̕̕̚͜͠͝͝t̵̤̭̘̀̽͒̈̒̌̑̈́̎́̆́̓̕͝͠ḩ̴̢͈̣̤̱̟̠̓̊̇̍́͐͗͜͝͝ȩ̸̨̛̜̱̣͇̥̫͚̲͓̭̗͈͉͍̭̲̗̰̬̠̲͕͈̞͎͚̯̖͖̓͌̎̎͆̊͑̀̒̍̒̌̏͌̇̓̅̓̽̈̿̊͐̅̉̐͑̐͆̌̂͒͗̂͌̊͘̚̚̚͝͠͝ ̶̮̃̓͂́́̃̽͋̏̽̇́̎̌͌̈́̆̃͐̉́̂̄̑͑̇̅͠ḿ̴͚̩̣̤̜̯̮̣̠̙̖̹͇̲̓̑͛͒̎̀̇͌͑̀͊͆̉̊̎̏́̅̎̄́̿͆͜͜͝͠͝a̸͈͇͚͈̞̩̭̙͔͈̘̻͖̠͙͎̻̼̱̝̻͉̺̭͇̳̫͚̐̐͒̊̽̈͋̏̉̇̽͛͗̓͊̍͑̔̓͆͋͋̿̉̃͂͂̈́̀̂̍̏̏̚ͅx̴͔̥̞͉̦͇̞̮͕̹̯̗̤̠̿̂́͊̂͑͆̈͑̌̔̿͐͋̃̀̑́̀̆́̅̽͌͑̅͒͌̚̕͜͝͠͠ͅͅ ̶̱̝̳̂̓͂̐̔̓̆̀̇̐͌̚̚͝t̸̡̡̟̙͉̜̖̘̹͍̤̪͚̰̟̫̣̜̩͈͙̳͕͍͇͉̣̺͎̦̫̬̟͉̝̙̠͍̖̫͚̱̉̉́͒͛̚̚ͅṟ̷̨͙͙͓̜̞̥̫͎̗̺͔̰͚̼̦͉͍̈́͜͜͜ͅą̸̡̛̟̻͕̮͇̹͉̺͂̒͐̏̀̓͊̈́̃͑͑́̌̀̃̅̽̒̅̉́̃́͒̈̽̀̂͗́̌̂́̀̑̌̌̍̀̕͠͠͠s̴̡̛̳̙̣̠̰͙̱̱̮͖͈̲̟̤͉̱̩̼̮͕̠̺̈̓͒̍͊̀͊͂̾̈́͑̓̃̄̽͒̓̂̀͛̇̿̒͆͒́̔́̚̚͘̚͜͜͠͝ͅh̸̢̨̡̛̖̗̫̫̞͍̣̭̬̠̝̘̯͖̖̤̯̬̪̥̣̱͈̺̝͖̥̭̥̝̭͇̎͆̏̌́̏̓̊̄͒̃͊͌͒̓̃͛̎͊̋̎̎͂́̏͆̈́̋̏͂̔͐̈́͗̿̓͂̀̌̕̕͠ ̵̧̢̣͈̱̻͎̻̤͚̣̥̜̰̳̯̻̤̘̺̪͈̻̙̏̾͂̂̽̈́̆̋̆͊͋̾̇̂̀̊͌̌̆̿̏̊̐̊͒̄̈́̉̍̑̊̆̉̓̒̋̕͘͜͝͝͝͝͝͠y̸̧̤̠̣͖̋̀̎͐̔̐͜͠ọ̵̡̧̣͚͔̗̭̯͙̱̼̩̹͉̬͍̼͖̪͚͍̗͓̟̰͙̯̹̭̋̚u̷̢͕̣͔̳͔̤͍̥̞̦̱̗̗͕̫͚͔̞͙̥̫̤̳̣̙͇̭͕͖͛̔́̅̓͋̾̆̂͐͛̂̎́̀̓̊̍̒̔̚͜͜͜͝͠ͅr̵̻̭̰͋͑̂͋̾̉́̚ͅ j̸̨͉̦́̑̕u̸̡̢̨̡̡̻̞̼̟̬̖̮̟̜̣͉̳̣̫̣̠̞͕̟̦͓̳͕͎̮̺̗̮̜̹̬̒͆͐̿̒͊̓̐́̎͗̈́̽̅̈̑̃͐̈́̈́̀́̅̾̃́̅̀̎͂̚͜͝͝͝͝n̸̢̨̨̢̨̡̨͈̜̟̝͉͖͚̹͍͉̟͉̫̬̭̙̞̰͎̙̯̲̜̩͚̰͍̭̝̥͙̘̤̳̮̥̎̓̐̈́͊͐̽́̕̚k̷̢͕̰̲͇̩̜̰̻͖̠̗͗͌̃̉̒͌͂͗̈̔̚͝ ̶̧̼̥͔̭̮͈͖͓̥̫̞̳̫̰̳̈͊̑̓̃͆́͊̆̎̾́͋̒̍̈́̐͒̓̈́̓́̒̋̈́͑͑̆͛͆̑͒̓̒̆͜͜͠͝͝͝ḋ̷̡̡̡̢̨̖̭̙̲̤͎̟͙̞̹̯̱̗̹̲̞̲̤͇̤̘̺͙̹̭̤̮̟̝̯̞͒̒̇̔̌͛̍́̔̉̐̾́̈͑̓̑̔̀͒̓̀̿̑̓̂̆̒̎͐̅̀̀̚̕͘̕̕̕͜͠͝ͅȩ̴̢̧̡̢̧̩̟͎̞̖̥̜̞̜̜̥̣͎̖̮̮̞͚͚̹̪̤̯̻̰̳̞͈̠̪͚̫͌̆̃̈́̏̓͆̇͂̐̏́̐̓̈́́͊́̀͌͘̕͝͝ͅͅp̵̛̻̗̂̓̑̉͆̒̏̽̆͊̾́̔̈́̾͌̍̎̃͒̕̕a̶̧̨̡̢̧͍̰̦̭̬̠͔̩̣̬̟̺̟̞̪̙̗̠͕̭̗̟̫̱̰̫͙͐͘r̷̟̙̦̯̈́́̌͑͛͐͂̐̋͑͊͗͐̀̀̋̂̃̇̇̆̉͒̐̐̊̈́̍̀̋͝ţ̷̡̛̠̰̝͚̭̹̰̫̮̭̌̃̋̌̄͛̑́̈́͛̉̈́̒̔̍̈̄̕͝͝͠m̸̢̧̢̧̛̲͚̼̯͕̩͇͓͓̣͙̯̬̳̙̬̙̔͋̈́̾̓̎̍̈́̅͗̊̍̈́͌̐̾̇̓̅̐͛͌͐̔̒͘̚͝͠͝ͅȇ̴̢̨̠̬̗̠̗̗̘͍͈̲̹̫͇̲͇̹̦͙͍͖̖͚͓̠̜̗̦͚̙̙͍̣̭̐̾̆̎͗̊̐̍͒̓͊̑̎̍͋̐̐̾̀̽͆̊͘̚̕͜ͅņ̴̨̨̛̦̤̼͙̘̮̹̼̗͓͉̞̫̺̗̺̲͔̦̣̠̱̦͓̣͔̪͉̱͓̦̮̝̺͖́̽͊̍̄̓͛̓̾̿̎̒̽͘͘͠ͅẗ̷̛̘̮̟̫̱̞̣͍̬̼͆̆̎͛͗̆̒̀̈͋̌̏̋͆̈͐̌̿̔̃̃̉̽̍͌̊̇̈́̚̚͘̚͠͝͠ͅ

̷̨̡̛̮̖̘̤͍̰̻̬͔̰̖̤̣̹͍̣̗͙̙͔̤͙̥͙̗̟̮̜̹̝͉͓̻͍̞̫͈̼̻͉̐́͆̍͑̒̐̍̂̓̿̔̒͋̓̀̏́̔̓̽͒̿̑͑̑͛̓̓̈̈́̈̿̅̌̽̚̚̚̚͜͝͝ͅf̸̨̧̧̨͙̩̲̩̰̱̳͚̩̻̟͚̬̥̤͓͚̤̥̹͙̳͉̞͉̩̘̠͚̜̠̩̪͕̹͑̂͛̐̔̈́̈́̔̅͋͐́͐̀̽̍͑͂̀̇͑̿͗̔̈́̈́̅̏̓̈́̒͑͗͘͘̚̚̕̕͝͠͝ì̷̢̧̢̢̧̛͙̥̫̪̯̖͎̫̙̙̙̪̦͎̤̜͎͉̝̩̞̙̺̦͔̬̮̣̠̯̻̗̫̾͗̏̅̈́̍̉̽̔̇̚̕̚͜͜͜͝ṙ̶̢̨͖̻̅͒̔̈́͌͛͌͒̎̚͠e̴̛̲̓̌̌̓̓̑̅̎̋̿̎̐͛͋̈͑̑͌̾̒̿͂̈́̊̈͛̊̑̌̒̔̽̚̚̕͘͝͝͝͠͠ ̵̧̛̛͉͍̳̗͙͈̘͈͙̺̱͙͖̼̹̜̩̭͎͕̖̟̙̩̽͊̑͑̂̃̅̈́̈́́̿͆̈́̈́̀́̎͊̃́̅̄̌͌̈́͒̓̓̈͆̍͊̕̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅt̶̛̳̣̪͖͉̓͛̾͊̇͆̈̿̅̍̔̅̓̈́͠ȟ̶̢̢̛͕͍͖̩͖̹͙̙̦̜̰̮͕̤̰̼̦͍̯̹͈̠̹̔͑̈́̆͂̔͐̾͐̑̒͆̑̋͐͆͑̐͂͌͑͑̾̇̕͝o̵̢͎̲̱̗̫͉̐̈́͊̅̉̆͂̊̓͂̀̍́̈́͆̆̈́̀̀͐͂̈́̆̐͊͑̏̿͛̐͌̉̐͌̌̈́̇͋̈́͒̕͝͝͝s̸̡̧̨̧̝͉̥̖̝̥̩͓̺͖̖͎̄̆͑̃̔͐̓͒̿́͑́̒̂́̐́̑͒̐̄̑̋̓́̈́͌́̚͘͝͠e̴̡͙̙͇̹̞͚̯̼̖̻̻̩̳͔͔̣̺͓͓̝̺͙͉͍̘̊̓́̂͊́̅̅̈́͑͗̈́͒͑́̋́̽̈́̔̓͐̒͂͛̆̂̇͗͑͘̕͘͜͜͜͠͝͠͝ ̸̡̓͌͝͝g̵̨̢̧̡̡̡̛͕̗͈̣̙͕̻̥̱̺̭̫̣̟͎̳̞͓̳̤̹̖̠͍̮̖͔̗̼̞̉̑̀́͐̐̈́̏̀̀̇̆̉͘̚͝l̸̘̖̘͉̮̪̬͎͎͌̆͐̆͊́̏̉͆̂̓͒̍̀̏̌̾̀̑̔͊̽̀̏̈́́͂̆͛̈͘͘͜ȉ̶̡̨̛̝̭͈̘̩̺͚͓̠̤̖̼̳̄͛̔̒̆̀̀́̔̑͒̽̎̌͆̃̐̀̀̿͛͘͜͝͝t̸̢̨̨̡̨̛̮̺͚̤̲͉̩̟̳͙̱̲̰͙̖̲̗̾͗͗̍̏͌̏͐̊̓͆̾̈́̊͗̅͒̈̆͐̌͂̂͆͘͘͠͝ͅͅc̵̢̡̛̛̩͎̘͈͖͖͖̲̦̫̟̖͎̤̜̮̲͔̺̭̗̻͍̼̘͇̙̣̳̱͖̊͂̋͐́̊̒̂̊̋̀̇͐̄͛͒́̓͂̔̐̕͜͝ḧ̶̢̢̨̧͙͇̥̬̫̙̭͈͉̘͖̦͉̱͔͚͚͖̜͈̣̯͇̺͇́̈́́͛̈́͆͆̓̅̈̽̅̄̈́͑̉͋̀̊͑͋͊̉́͑̓͐͑͘͘͜͠͠͠e̶̱̓̃̊̈́͗́̈́́̔͋͒͒̿̈̆͒̒̃͒̊̑̅̈́̇̈́͒̓͊̂͆̿̚s̴̢̢̢͈̜̰̠̲̠̹͙͓̥̻͕͎̳̝͍̪͎̹̻̞͕̀̄͒̓̈́̊̒̃̐̓̈̎͒́̏̆̎̅̆͐̔̂́̇̓̓̈́͑̓̌̔̅̚̕͘͝͠͝͠ͅ ̸̨̢̨̧̢̻͓̮̝̲͚̪͓̜̦̲̞̬̙̪̳͈͉̼͉͈̩̙̤͎̠͉̣̽̈̽̕t̶̠͍̼͚͖͓̹̹̣͖͇͇͇̘̱̝͇̫̘̼̘̜̅̋͊̐̓͐̋̈́͒͑̕̚͘͘͜͜͠ͅh̷̢̢̢̡̻͉͉͎͎͔̗̩̯͙͕̠̩̭͖̩̼͖͙͎̰̻̺̼̦̟͇̣͖̖̞͉͙̣͇̝̞̫͍̔̇̀͆̑̽͊͛̃͗͛͆͊́͂̊̒̆̽̽̓͑̎̍́̊̚̕̚͘e̷̢̡̡̢̧͙̹͙̞̩͈̟̤̖͕̗͓̙̠̻̙̲̫̙͔͓̦̟̼̺̰̗͈̺̩͗͗͐́̐́̔̃͗͐̈́̽͋͒̏̉̈́̄͝ņ̴̛̜̼͈̝̘̬̦̲͔͙̭͖̜͓̖̥̣̣̘̳͕͕̮̝͇̺͕͓̟͇̪͓̺̥͈̊̎̐̂̇̎͒̄͐͐̌́̇̈́̾͛̏͜ ̸̡̢̧̪̹̠̪̙͇͉̠̱͙̼̻̪̹͈̲̳͇̤̘̜̫̳̬̼͖̜̺̯͇̭̟̔́̐̽͒̓̑̎̉̃̇̓̄̓̋̈̽̉̈́͊̋̓̚̕̚͘ͅë̵̢̢̡̻̣͙̖͔̪̗̦̦̤̞̦̘̘̺̝̥͓͚͙̤̳̣̮̺̞̹͎̱͎̝̘̬́͗͌̅̌̐̒͛̋͆̀̓̏̂̔͑́͑̓̂́̔̿̆̇̌̔̆̄͛̍̇̅͂̀̋̊̔́͜͜͠ą̴̣̣͚͙̰̱̫̘̫̰͔̯͔͕̬̙͙̞̠̞͕̠̱̠͍̹͚̦̱̥̜̮̘͕͂̋͊͋̑̐̈́͘͜͜ͅt̷̨̧̡̛͍̬̖̖̯͖̯̗̼͚̜̩̣͕̝̳̱̫̳͈̻̲̪͈͉̫̥̻̐̆̈̂̆̍̽̉͌͐̈́̾͋̅̔͛̈́̿̆́̈́̊̌̀̑̊͑̏̍́̈́̽̚͘̚͜ͅ ̷̡̧̡̨̨̛̟̣͔͔̠̯͎̹̠̜̟̯̯͕̹͕̪͓̫̗̻̖̗̫̤̼̼̟̞̝̺̤̫̲̓͌̓͋̂̌́̈́̒͆̌͌́͜͠w̵̛̼̯̞͙̹̒̈̍́̍̎̐͗̓̀͆͒̽̍̽͂͗̄̅̇́̆̉̓͒̂͋̉̀̄̉͒̅͂̚̕͘͘͝h̸̛̛̘̘̫̃̈́͛̈́͑͆̄͂̐̊͗̌̈́́͊̓̊̇̊̏̑͑͂̚̚̕ͅă̷̧̨̨̢̛̞̩̱̗̟̞͚̩̭͙̱̻͎͈̻͓͓̩͇̭̘̖͈̜̤̬̒̍̑̽͛̄͋̄̀̿͋̎̾̊͛̒̃͌͛̉̄̿̾̑̏̃̇͛̑̅͋̍͑͂̑̃̚͘͜͜͠ͅţ̵̢̨̦̺͓͚͚̱̯͖̮̫̰͈͔͚̲͉͓̻̠̞̞̜͙̬̖͓̝͔͔̠̽̽̇͒͒̓̽̍͌̊̆͜ ̵̧̛̱̞͍̥̜͚͙̼̜͎͈̟͕̙͓̤̘̰̭̑̀̒͌̐̏̈́̇̉̄̿̑̑̅̍̂̉̂̀̊̿̕͘͠͝ͅͅ ỳ̷̡̡̨̺͍̻̪̱͎̫͉͎̺̰͔̥̻̠̥̼̪͍̗̽̓̈́̉̀̆͒̓̈́̒̕͜ͅͅͅͅo̸̡̢̡̭̘̬̪̙̘̝̼͙̺̳̬̠̝̻͙̜̟̱͉̥͖̮̣̞̹̖͘ų̶̨̢̧̧̛̯̻̘̥̠̗̜͉̬̞̻͈̥̠̥̗͚̩̬͔̝͈̳͍͓͖͈͖̖̺̦̽̈́̓̾̆͂͂̓̕͘͜ͅ ̶̨̧̨̝̤̳̤̠̮̜̥͓̜̱͉̩̪̠͎̥̬͔̺̘̱̻̖͚̹̩̭̠͇͇͖͖͔̜̹͕̀̅͜͜ͅl̴̨̢̢̪̜̙̥̙̱̫͚̪͕͙̩̪͍̲͍̱͖͇͕͙̉̋̕͜͜͠i̶̢̡̡̲̤̬̩̣͍̫͉̰̝̙̘͖̖̱̝̠̮͉̬̮̱̝̅̓ķ̶̛̮̖̝̜̰̭͎̥͇͗̈́̈́̏̐̄̔̏̑͐̔̔̒̀̈͗̌̈̏͆̄̓̿̌̈́͂͋͒̈͆͒̉̊̒̒̕̕͘̕͝͝͠͠ȇ̵̡̡̢̧̝̭̗̪̲̻̘̬̞̥̭̲̲̟͈͖̙̰̰͛̒̔̾̈́̔̽̽͐͊̑ͅ ̶͚̩̗̬̖̻͌̉̽̀̃̂́̓̃̏̂̾̽̾͐͋̎̅̀̑̓́̐́̈́̈́̈̓̿̔͗̈͊͗̚̚͝͠͠͝͝͠

Today is the third day of the third month of the third year of the reign of the Emperor Reiwa. 3-3-3 is an auspicious day and as it was all over the news, I thought I would publish a post on this occasion for readers who love numerology.

3̴̡̧̧̢̡̡̢̨̢̢̨̢̡̢̢̢̢̡̢̨͈̬̳̦̮̗̺̞̜͕̥̲̪̟͔̮͓̼̙̩̬̬̦̭̙̠̻̬̹̱̟̘̻̪̤̻̦͈̺͍̰̪̖̱̪͎͍͙̙̼̘̤͖̦͓̱̘͕͙̗͎͚̩͙͖̳̘͔̠̳͕͉̠͇̺̥͓̹̜̺̖͈͔̥̟̫͖̣̱̣̘͈̹͉͖͓̘̗͖̙͓̹̞͉̱̳̩̥̰͚̱̖̬͚̱̦̘̱̦̘̰͍̮͚̠͓̩̻͎̗̫͎̲̱̹͉̪͈̝̙̈́́̆̀͛̓̽̎͐̈́͑͋͜͜͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅ-̵̧̨̛͈̪̟̳͇̳̮̺̺̝̳̞͍̟̼̲͉̲̬̙̖̗͍̜̙̝̝̤͋̅̍͗̎̋̉̀̏͐̑̇̑̂̎͂̋̒̂̔̈́̈́͆͗̑̓̇̔̈́̂͂̇̀͑̉̓̃́̿͑̈́̔̇̾͐̐̈́̍̃͒̇̍͂̄̒̋͊̂͌̃̑͒̾̅͆͊͒̒͒̑̅̀̈̄̾̅̒͂͛̐̒̋̾͗̿͆͒̈͋̋̀́͛́̕͘͘̚̚̚̕̚̚̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ3̵̧̡̨̧̲̲̜͓̘͎͍͎̗̯̻̯̜͎̰͚͔̜̩̥͖͈̰͚̒̀͋͗̿̅̈́͌̎͊́̋̏͋͑͂̄̆̓̌͛̀̉́̽̔̉̈́͐̋̎͊̓́̓̇͑̃̀̆̌̊͂̆̅͐̓̂͆̒̇͆̐̾͊̏̔̋͌̂͐̈̐̔̍̅̕̕͘̚̕̕̚͜͝͝͝-̸̢̡̡̨̨̨̡̛̫͔͕̘̺̯̣̣͕͇̤͈̰̜͚̣͎͎̙̭̦̬̣͈̫̝͇̟͚̭̟͇̳̺̮̜̗̗̣̝͎̖͚̭̙̦̩̗̰̼̬̮̞̗̲̲̟͈̣̮͖͕̘̰̰̰̼̬̮̠̱͓̖͎͔̫̜͓̯̮̖̗͚͍̩̟͉̘̹̠̤̟̦̤̳̻̝͔̜̱̲̠̥̼̼͓͉̣͈͇̯̱̬̳̮̬̻̖̓͛̉͊̎ͅͅͅͅͅͅ3̵̡̨̡̧̡̡̢̛̝̝̟͙̥͙̣͕̜̬̺̝̼̝̘̪̘̬̭̼̲̹̣̭̱̠̟̰͖̲̲̲̱͎̩̰̹̝̮̯̱̘̩͖̭̟̣̞͖͚͕̱͕̣̘̺͎͈͕̹͍͈̠͉̭̙̜̼̟͉͔̙͕̼̗̲̝̳͎͖̤͎̙̟̦̯̟̬̮̪͔̼̯̠̣̞͇͙͕̤͚̘̼̬͇̫̬̫̯̮̂̾̾̾͒̀̎̀̿̔͒̈́͑̋͒̑̄̀̾͛͊̓̇̂̑̃̍̑̂͛̈́̈́͐̒̃̒́́̾͗̾̾̾̉͋̅̂̾͛̈͐̓̓̓̽̾͑͋̾̉̎̒̒̉͛̉͗̋͐̀̀̍̌̾̓̐͒̾͋͐̽̊͐̑͑́͆͘͘̕͘̕͘̕̕̚̕͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ

Fun story. When His Imperial Majesty was Crown Prince (kou-taishi-denka) I was in the same banquet hall with him and that now disgraced CEO who was smuggled out of Tokyo into Beirut in a double bass case. I was, however, introduced to his brother and sister-in-law when I was an undergraduate. The mother of the future Emperor tripped and almost fell on top of me.

Gold decorating flakes stamped on black paper

We were warned before the meeting not to touch them but had she fallen, she would’ve dinged her face very badly. Much to my relief, she caught her balance.

Oh yes, those were the days when people would ask me why in the holy muck was I studying a language with a writing system that looked like algebra and calculus got handsy with each other at a bar.

Perhaps I should stop being rebellious because I’m a grown-up now. But I feel inspired when someone tells me I can’t do something that’s lawful, perfectly doable and really fun to do. My ancestors martyred themselves to get shackles taken off and I am supposed to do what now? Be boring and bored. I cannot do it.


Ȉ̵̡̢͔̦̝̻̼͙̤͍̘̺͖̣͗͋͐̋̽̌̅̆͐̄͝͠͝ͅ ̴̗͇̙̥̞̠̒͛̑̽́̆̔̂̓̀͆̂͛̕͘͠ą̸̡̖̺͍̜͔͖̤͔̣̱̤̫̈̾̀̓͐́͆̇̅͐̓ͅm̸̛̰̦̱̤̪̐̀̅͑̋͊̇̌̓̎͆̚ ̵̪̖͖̲̬͆̒͒̎̌̀̊ͅͅa̸͉͊̀̇͛̃͋̓̌͐̌̒̈̅͝͝ņ̶̼͎̘̂̄̈́͑̈́͆͐̍̈́̈͐̄̔̕͘ͅ ̶̱̳̜̣̻͕͇͙̺͈͋͌̾͑̈̏̿̾͗̏͊͌͒ã̸̩̙̥͙̬̼̦͖̹̬͖̙͍̋̎͊̉͜͝͠r̸̨̛͕͉̙̠̖̗̖̦̠̓̂̂̐̔̒̈́̍̒̈͌̎̕͝t̸̢̹͔̣̪̲͕̩̟̘̬̠̫̃̄̑̂͛̒̄́̎̐͘͘͜͜͝͝ͅï̴̪͔̼͔͉͈̺̬͎̪̈́̑̊̇͂̆́̋͊̍̓̈́͌̈s̸̡̡̨̝̹̜̞̹̩͒͂̄̌̃̂͊̇͒̈́͒̈̾̈́̚͘ͅţ̸̢̱̠̤̹͕̬̑̅̈́̓̋̇͝ ̵̡̧͖̪͉̝̤̣̩̱͙͙̦̬̯͙̽̐̐͑́͊̀̓̄͘ạ̵̧̨̛͖͎͙̩̪̼͔̈͐̍̆̀̍̋̅̐̈́̌͛̓̂n̶̢͆̈́̃̔ḑ̶̡̙̭͕̩̥̮̻͚͈͎̃̔͜ ̷̨̨̡̢̙̀̂̚I̸̢̘̰̰̮̜̬͓̗͎̼̙̟̦̹̍̇̇̎̔̈͑̋̓͋͝ ̵̣̣͚̪̦̗͕̪͛̆ã̶̧̮͈̙͓̫͔͙̼͓̥͍͐͒̐͌̓͗̎̄̑̅̽͆͝m̸̡̘̥̬̺̙̝͎͎͖͚͎͕̳̩̟̍̋͠ ̴̻͊̓̍͛a̵̬͎͕̠̒̊ḽ̴̹͙͖̖̩̰̙̳̞̗̌̊̒̽̕l̷̲͎̦̣̰̣̥̯͆o̷̜̿͐̓͐͒̓͒͋̚w̵̹̖̩̣͚̫͖͋̂̂́͊̈́͂͑͑͒́̐͂̃͝͝e̵̢̧̹̭̱͇͉̦͖̺͕̹̦̔̇̓̎͊̾͌̓́ḑ̵̙̪̖͚͔̀͛̈̒̀̒͗̊̾̈́̋͜͝͝ ̷̨̡͍̹̫̞̣̥̹̣̙̾̍͊̾͂̊͗̍̇͋̋̑͝͝ͅc̷̱̻͐̎ṟ̵̲̹̗͖̞̰̭̭̦̦͓̍͌̚͜ͅͅą̵̨̯̣͈͇̱̋̈͑̅̆̓̂́z̴̛͔̱͎̞̟͇̜͚̱̼̫̈̓̂͝i̶̳͕̤̮͖̥̜̰̹̯̼̊n̶͔͎̜͐̊́̾̈́͐̅̚̚͜e̶̡̨̬͖͍̪̟̮̜̝̩̘̖̘͋̋̋͂͛̽̈́̾͘̕ş̴̰̮̪͉͔͗͂͛̾́̀͊͠s̴̨͔̲͉̳̩̼͎͕̲̦̺̤͎̲̬͗̓̍̒̾̀̈̇̚̚̕ ̸̡̺̤̣̟͔̝̝͍̹͇̬̞̣̍̒́l̶̛̛͙̮̩̳̊͌̋͊͑̂͂̃̽͠e̴̢͔̫͍̤̫̝͈̫̓͑̓̑̿͌͝v̶̨̞͎̼̪͚̄̽̒͂̋͐̿͠è̴̛̙̕l̴̹̩͍̹̅̋̐̐͘ ̷̢̧̨͎̤͈͙̘͈̥͖̥̻̊͑̎̔́̋́́̅̌̕͜t̶̡̪̝̝̙̜̗̾͗̐̆̀̊̀͒o̶̡̡̞̯̟̱̟͙̺̼̮͎͎̹͕͛̑̾̊̈́̈́̋ ̸̨̣͓̫͔̦͎̑̃͋̒̀͛̊ͅţ̸̡̢͈̩̹͎̤̇̀̎͌͠h̵̜͈͈͕̥̅̍͐̈́̊̽̆̑̽̅͂͝e̷̢̲͚͎͚̔͑͒́͗͒̄́͆͒̏ ̸̹͊̉̃m̴̢̞͚̥͍͎̙͇͎͎̹͔̊̄̀̾͗̋̊̾͋̈́͘͠a̶̡̡̨̪̗͔̺̞͖̅̒̇͆̈̈́͂́́͒̈́̔͛͘̕ẍ̸̻̙̭̻́͂̒

I will, however, wish you a lovely day. I have sent positive thoughts and prayers across the seas for your happiness, peace and tranquility on this auspicious occasion.

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about me art creative writing fiction opinion women writing

Sunday, at the (home) office


On Saturday afternoon, I was waiting to take down an art exhibition and while I was waiting in the car, I decided to pull an Oracle card. I bought them because they’ve got a matte velvety finish and the gold inlay looks pretty. I could not for the life of me understand what it was trying to say.

Threads of Fate Oracle Cards "Patience"
“Patience” from the Threads of Fate Oracle cards

Hello everyone. Are you enjoying your Sunday? I have been at my “home” office all day. I am chuckling at the moment, because when I was searching my phone’s image library, I noticed that photo from yesterday and suddenly, my entire Sunday makes sense. This, for once, is not a rant.

I’ve had the most insane day. I had a vague project deadline circa now: Thirty episodes for a Japanese/English animated series. Sounds fun, right? Except, the criteria changed three hours before I submitted the scripts for TEN episodes.

There is a budget issue. “Smaller budget: remove characters.” So I asked three friends to help me out of a jam. Halfway through, when I presented a snippet of the draft, the graphic artist/animator demanded I write the script for the trailer first.

Now, the reason his company hired me was that the project team was led by a talented graphic designer and animator who was not a writer. Because I understood that, I explained to him that the writing process is not linear. One never starts with the summary. It appears that way because that’s how a story is presented to us. But you can start in the middle and work your way backwards or forwards. You know what I’m talking about, right? You’re all writers.

Colors of love by Thomas Bergersen

And of course, I might be the most non-linear writer of them all. I was giggling because he probably thought I was being unreasonable.

I say, “Should we have notes on the first ten episodes and then write the trailer script, which will happen very fast because we will know what the story is all about?” Doesn’t budge.

That’s how four of us were at one point editing the same sentence at the same time. I would like to give a special big up to Google Docs for facilitating that. When we were all finally done tweaking the scripts, the graphic artist texted, “I’ll take a look in two hours because I am going out.”

What?! It’s 7 past 22 o’clock (two hours later) and he wants to have a meeting at 23 o’clock. I, on the other hand, will be going to bed.

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about me creative writing fiction technology

A short video, with thanks

(If you’re having any problems viewing the video embedded above, please tell me. It’s in my WordPress media library. The point of upgrading was to not have this issue, WordPreeeeeess.)

Thanks for coming over here to support me when I re-launched as a brand-new entity last Saturday.

Earlier, WordPress responded to the altar call and got right with the Lord, but is now backsliding and error coding my videos. I cannot penetrate this chaos with code, scripts, tags, or commands. Nothing can defeat it. And I have tried everything.

I wish you a brilliant, glitch-free Thursday. (It’s Friday.)

*Big ups to @TonyWijsVA (Twitter) for the ‘frustrated Kylo Ren’ voice over.

Categories
art fashion gourmet

Roses + Coffee

Drip coffee package with specialty rose shaped cookies - pink.

This morning, I received a surprise gift: A box of rose-shaped cookies from a Tokyo patisserie called Tulip Rose. I can’t have the cookies because I’m gluten intolerant, so I took photos before giving them away.

Drip coffee package with rose shaped cookie - blue.

The illustrations are from individually-wrapped drip coffee sachets. I received four from a colleague who found them while hunting for coffee deals on Amazon. I have had three so far. (When I say I have coffee, I mean a milk substitute, cream, sugar, and coffee as a flavour).

Rose-shaped cookies

I kept the packaging in case I could create some yummy photo art. The moment has arrived, the coffee brand is called Tasogare, and the beans are from Ethiopia and Brazil. 

Drip coffee in package - green. With decorative wooden clothespins, and graffiti.

Thank you for your support so far. Please enjoy the cookies with your beverage of choice, a warm hug from me, and best wishes for the months ahead.

Box of rose shaped cookies (cookie petals with semi-solid cream filling) from Tulip Rose, Tokyo. Thank you scribbled over the top.

( ^ω^ )

Categories
poem poetry writing

Dominae Sol serenat omnia

aikyo to aikyo 2019 postcard of oil on canvas painting by Anna Ishii
あいきょうとあいきょう

Dominae Sol serenat omnia

Dominae Sol serenat omnia - Latin poem based on the Mediaeval Latin verses in the Codex Buranus.

Based on Mediaeval Latin verses in the Codex Buranus. Below, you will see the English translation.

The Sun is my Empress, She shines over everything

I was tempted to put the full text here. However, I remembered that Chrome’s translation software would chew it up. I hope the two images render without any issues. If there are any, let me know. The raw text is available, so please contact me if you would like to have it.

Image: Postcard I received recently of Anna Ishii’s 2019 work, “Charming and mesmerising” – 193 cm x 193 cm oil on canvas.

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art creative writing fiction writing

Accession

In a previous post, I mentioned that I was writing a coronation scene for a new novel. The story is set in 2033, and unfolds in the same universe as The Quarter Percent. We follow events from three perspectives. One belongs to Sebastian Sax-Gault, who happens to be a nephew of Cordial’s.

Whereas it hath pleased our Most Blessed Lady to recall to us Her glorious memory in the noble crown which is solely and rightfully come to the High Prince Carroll Patrice Saints Maud et Agnes:

Still drafting, but I know how the story ends. In the very last scene, after a bombshell revelation the previous evening, a hush falls over the nation on Coronation Day. The new monarch is Sebastian’s bestie, 35-year-old Carroll. In this draft of the story, Carroll’s father is still alive, so the proclamation of accession has to take place at the coronation.

Proclamation of accession (fiction).

By this point in the story, we have eavesdropped on meetings and know that the coronation will be stripped of pomp and pageantry. Sebastian has been asked to whittle down the government’s expenditure on the ceremony to mere shillings. The ceremony is a reckoning with the public which, after a display of hubris, has completely lost face. Nonetheless, the ordeal has been humiliating for Carroll.

Bless and sanctify thy servant Carroll, Inheritor of this realm, who we anoint and consecrate King. Imbue him with the wisdom of the Mighty Reformer Jonas, as we, with one voice, proclaim him King, Servant and Steward, with hearty and weighty affection.

The proclamation text is based on EIIR’s 1952 accession and 1953 coronation. (Read a short story inspired by the latter). As mentioned in that earlier post, Google was reading over my shoulder and recommended gospel music to me on YouTube. I made some artwork to display the text that was misunderstood. I hope you like it.

Note: This post was originally intended for publication on this date, 09/20, but I moved it up a week. I moved it back here to make way for a different post. Thank you for your attention, as always. Header image: Izrael Poznanski Palace in Lodz, Poland, by Jacques Bopp, via Unsplash. Concept art: “Accession proclamation for King Carroll”, Posca watercolour pens, and Pilot Juice metallic ink on matte/glossy magazine paper.

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opinion science fiction women writing

A nutty idea

There is a torrential downpour forecast for this week. I came home during a lull, grabbed my tablet and both of my phones and thought, “I’m going to the office/coffee shop to take advantage of the quiet time to write a scene for my upcoming novel.” Why, oh why, did I check my email before going outside?

Image: Alexandru Zdrobău via Unsplash.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I live in the same universe as the author who wrote bestselling fan-fiction about a woman who was kidnapped and assaulted by a dude for 365 days. Therefore, I will write whatever I like. Please do not misunderstand this post. I am not griping about feedback from a man who tried to say I was “nutty” for using research and my fertile imagination to write a fictional story.

As I have said before, people like what they like. And when they don’t, here come the excuses. It’s like when a guy meets a girl and she has a perfect oval face, hair that is soft and silky, and skin like nectar. She is kind, polite, chews with her mouth closed, and speaks five languages. Except … she has a 32A chest and he can’t feel it for her, he whines to his friends over a beer, because his eyes cannot focus on a woman who does not have a 36 GG chest. And if that woman has to go to Seoul or Bangkok and have them stitched into her body for his viewing pleasure, so be it. “You’re giving me a real athletic vibe,” he later says to the girl over spaghetti. “Are you into sports? You should be a sports model.” The girl feels bad.

Image: Timur Romanov via Unsplash.

In July, I was worried that people would find my story bland, given the current year we live in. However, this afternoon, I read a message explaining to me that the story for The Quarter Percent was quote, A NUTTY IDEA THAT WORKED OUT WELL IN YOUR MIND, unquote. Get it? This person accurately described my process for writing every fictional story that I’ve ever published on this blog.

People enjoy reading about themselves. So, I guess he felt left out? One of the women in my novel is an engineer who does engineering things, while being partially clothed. A real woman doing a postdoctoral fellowship in engineering read it and sent me an email to say she enjoyed the story. And to be fair, if I read a book by an author who was using their work to attack a protected class or group, I would shred it and mail it to the publisher.

Women writers hear the darnedest things.

But I tell you all of that because I want to say that the story for the sequel to my first novel is over-the-top, dystopian, unconventional, irreverent, and chaotic. In fact, my process is that if scenes feel NORMAL they are immediately scrapped. Or I rewrite until things get CRAZY. If someone reads that novel and doesn’t think it’s crazy, I will be very upset.

After a busy month of literally no weekends, I finally have a four-day weekend coming up. I will be spending most of it writing. Some day, in the future, you will meet Mimi, a public health nurse who has lost her sense of humour given the situation unfolding in her country. Compared to her, Rue of Vale is going to look like a Sunday school teacher.

Good talk.

Categories
poem poetry writing

Beatitudes

Go out in the morning,
into the tabernacles and the courts.
Blessed are the souls that receive you;
they will be comforted.
Do not faint from toil; find rest
in mine house. Sleep, and see
a mystery in the early moments,
before the trumpets will sound.
Continue to the city, touching
all who praise thee for thy works.
Blessed are the faithful that rejoice
in thy labour; they will obtain
gladness even until the latter rain.

I will not age
nor show how frail I am,
nor let the flower of my glory fall away.
Yea, I will bless them that sow in joy
and wait to taste the bounteous supper.
Mine riches shall I heap upon their heads.

Therefore, feel not disquiet,
but hope. Walk in righteousness,
and be worthy. Weep not for days,
but return to me. And measure not
my devotion in a handsbreadth;
surely, it will endure
forever.

🌺

Thank you, everyone, for your encouraging words on my last post. This poem is based on Johannes Brahms’ Ein Deutsches Requiem (A German Requiem). English text: King James Bible. Original image: Nghia Do Thanh. Musical inspiration: Junkie XL’s Brothers in arms.

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about me creative writing opinion writing

Better is one day

Better is one day, from Hymn by Sarah Brightman

Therapy is working. I had to complain to my therapist about this because, for two weeks, I have been staring at a wall of text that usually my brain would gather up and frappé into a poem.

However, my therapist and I have worked out my underlying issues. The stuff that was causing me to be codependent, passive-aggressive, resentful, angry, and vindictive had helped me to write poetry. There is no better way to cloak my hostility or deny my own needs. Now, the magic is gone. Nice job, doctor. 

I am able to confidently state my needs, and sometimes that involves screaming to the world that I’m not okay. This always happens when I am in traffic on Sundays, but I think that’s true for everyone. Anyway, she says I need to ping my brain with music. I say that it is a meditative process that only works for writing prose fiction. We also talk about feeling sad about the tragic passing of someone we all know.

After that conversation, I swear to Jesus, I went to YouTube and I see Sarah Brightman posed like the Columbia Torch Lady. I had no idea that she released an album in 2018. I listened out of curiosity, and realised that YouTube did not suggest this to me before because I avoid songs that praise the Lord Almighty, in English. I made a face at first, but it stuck and I had to play it again. The song is based on A German Requiem by Brahms. It sounds uplifting, cheerful, and transporting.

How did this happen? Google’s neural networks are getting better at listening to my private chats (!) and/or analysing my emails. I strongly suspect the latter because yesterday, I emailed myself the ecclesiastical portion of a coronation scene that I am writing. It’s for a new novel, but the machine believes that I’m Catholic or something. Oops.

I love the song. And I still can’t write poetry.