Matthew Rowe's Blog: Matt Cannot Write Here, page 2

Slut Theory

[image error] The thing that gets me is that Buddhist thought (and some other religions), as well as modern science, seem to accept the fact that reality as we see it is an illusion. The world is shaped by our thoughts. That isn't what blows my mind. That is old hat. In fact it's such an old hat that it's been gathering mothballs, and when I wear it outside in the rain my hair still gets wet. No, what blows my mind is still to come. If the world is shaped by our thoughts why can't I make a hot, naked slut and 10 million, thousand, billion yen appear on the table in front of me by thinking it? I've been thinking it for a very long time and my reality hasn't changed enough for it to be true yet.
We can draw 3 conclusions from this: 
1. My mind secretly hates me and creates a reality to piss me off.
2. My mind believes that even if this is an illusion that it doesn't work that way, because that is how my brain thinks it is and I can't just unthink it.
3. Reality isn't entirely an illusion.
I go with number 3. I think there are some elements of 1 and 2 in there, but 3 is the most likely candidate hogging up all the seating space like a sumo wrestler who didn't realise that it was his turn to be in the ring. I think there is some huge massive reality out there and our tiny human minds can't comprehend all of it or even sense it because we don't have the right equipment - just like a cell phone with one company can't pick up the signal of a rival cell phone company, or bluetooth signals or FM radio or me shouting really loud at it because its so slow. All that stuff is still there. Also, Cats can hear sounds humans cannot hear. So it must be true that there are sounds that cats cannot hear. And why just sounds? Why not sights and smells and tastes and sensations of things we can't even describe because they are so far outside of our realm of experience? So if there are other dimensions and stuff that reality is set completely in place and is 100% unchangable. However, we create our own reality because we see a small portion of the true reality and try to describe what we can see from our perspective. Imagine a 2D person looking into a 3D world. He would only be able to see a line because his perceptions can't pick up 3D at all… That's us. 
Similarly, to any higher dimensional beings who can perceive more than we can, we must seem like nothing more (at best) than mindless AI drones in a computer game and we all know how much we love torturing those dudes so should they set their sights (or whatever) on our dimension we are "FUBAR"ed - big time!
I think all this accounts for the many ways in which our minds can trick us and alter perceptions but also for the reason why there are no hot sluts on my table. Agreed?

Awesome Buddy

[image error] I met a man who said, "I don't get escapism."
My first thought on hearing this was something along the lines of 'Wow! He must have an awesome life. He must have tonnes of money. He probably has two really cute and smart children; a beautiful, adventurous, elegant and sexy wife too. He probably owns a huge company and gets to boss people about all day. His perks possibly include a luxurious private room of hot, big breasted, full lipped, asian concubines whose only purpose in life is to engulf his senses in raw physical pleasure at his whim. He probably rides rocket ships to the moon and takes tourist photos of alien civilisations while fighting crime as an invincible cyborg. That's probably why he has no health worries. Obviously, he has no worries if he doesn't get escapism'
Then he said: "How can I get escapism?"
So I thought, 'oh, he's like some rich guy tourist and he wants to sample the life of the lower classes. How quaint! I could insult him for being such a nonce but then that would destroy my chances of ever visiting his luxurious private room of hot, big breasted, full lipped asian concubines and boy did I want to visit that! I wanted this guy to be my best friend for all time!'
So very politely I told him that he should quit his job, burn all his money, drown himself in alcohol and go on a drink-driving joyride with his two kids and the seatbelts removed. After they died, he should break up with his hot and perfect wife out of guilt and then find a partner who treats him like dirt and hates him. For a final touch he should go and play soccer for a couple of hours at the Fukushima Dai Ichi nuclear power plant site and develop 25 terminal cancers… "Then," I said, "then you will get escapism."
In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have shouted this.
Anyway, he then told me that he can't stand moments in a story where realism is lost. He only reads true stories. He watches movies and points out all the errors. He abhors fantasy, and thinks it ridiculous… And all my dreams of having a super cyborg, interstellar tourist best friend with a luxurious private room of hot, big breasted, full lipped asian concubines vanished like a fresh and vibrant painting under a hot tap and some turpentine.
'Oh, so you are just some pernickety git with no imagination…. ', I thought, but at least he was trying to 'get' escapism.
Am I the only person who finds that concept completely ridiculous? 

Versatile Award

[image error] Apparently they give awards to people who are good at writing and have no audience now. If I knew about that sooner I would have tried even harder to have no one read anything I write.

So, a huge thank you to one of my longest known writing friends, Freya Pickard, for nominating me and gosh, there are just so many people to thank. The director, the cast, the guy who moves the plastic rock around so it looks like Captain Kirk is landing on an entirely different desert planet with three rocks in the background. Most of all I want to thank God, because nothing says "Good for you!" like taking all the sense of achievement out of a difficult task and dumping it on the shoulders of an imaginary friend. That really builds self-confidence. Anyway, I guess I should link back to Freya's blog then.... poink!

There are a few rules that go along with the award. I normally like and respect rules about as much as concentrated acid respects soft materials right to exist, but here they are:

• In a post  on your blog, nominate 5 fellow bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award
• In the same post, add the Versatile Blogger Award.
• In the same post, thank the blogger who nominated you in a post with a link back to their blog.
• In the same post, share 7 completely random pieces of information about yourself.
• In the same post, include this set of rules.
• Inform each nominated blogger of their nomination by posting a comment on each of their blogs.

So.... 7 completely random pieces of information about myself shall follow this sentence here.
★ I eat at least 2 packs of dried mangoes every week
★ My dreams are more intricately plotted than most TV shows (and people wonder why I like sleeping)
★ I am capable of thinking something or someone is beautiful without wanting to put my penis in it (a fact I point out because most people get scared nowadays when you say "your child is beautiful", "that picture of a supernova devouring a galaxy is beautiful" or "that cow is beautiful")
★ While some people are capable of multiple orgasms, I am capable of multiple migraines. I can't help but feel cheated. Also, I am capable of multiple orgasms.
★ I hate people, but I love lots of individuals.
★ I have no faith in any person in a position of authority (which creates multiple paradoxes in my head now that I am a teacher).
★ I have a secret cat (which is a lot like a normal cat but it gets socks thrown at it when it makes noise).

So on to my nominees. They are, in no particular order except the order they are typed in because that order is pretty hard to avoid:

(1) Inside Martin by Martin Lastrapes: He describes a range of life experiences in a clear manner, hosts regular interviews with authors and shares some personal views of my own.
(2) Write For The Jugular by Scott Morgan: He has a range of biting entries which are as entertaining as they are diverse. A writer with a voice if ever I saw one. Good pun too.
(3) The Incessant Droning Of A Bored Writer by John Hansen: He falls into the same category as me because his blog title is a complete lie. He might be less concise than some, but his thoughts, observation and advise are perfect. Read, and try not to fall asleep (joking)!
(4) Writability by Ava Jae: offers direct and funny advise on writing and the writing trade. Well worth a read.
(5) Procrastin8or's Blog by .... Procrastin8or: Not only does he throw up news, reviews and writing resources, but he has a separate, connected blog dispelling modern "myths" that makes for lively discussion.

So please check them out! And then you can come back here and blame me for wasting your time.... Then I'll set my secret cat on you. I will, because she has the power to bring out a rash in anyone she bites. Fear her cute little teeth and big round eyes.

Borders

[image error] Lie on the ground and put your ear to the floor, if you live in an apartment block. If not, put an ear to the wall and listen to your neighbours. If you have no neighbours or you live in a detached house then please smeg off you are ruining my exercise. So whichever category you fall in to, do it.
Bang! World shattered. Your view of the world just changed incredibly. Before it was just you in your tiny little corner of the universe doing your thing (you know, snorting Tabasco, worshipping Satan, skinning grapes endlessly until the sun arises, the normal stuff) and now there is a whole other world below you. Equally weird and equally f'd up.
Listen as your neighbour hacks up a lump of phlegm, be entranced as the parents yell at their kids for seeing if cream bagels will play in the DVD player. It's funny because you only hear the loud exaggerated stuff. A lot of it is bodily functions. Strange how that always gets through. However, inside their heads things are just as massive and messy as inside your head. Your world has doubled its craziness.
Then, when your cat starts using you as a trampoline it's probably time to get back up and go back to your little world. That other world is still there but you don't have to think about it now.
What other worlds are right there with us? Maybe they are massive and immaterial or just invisible. Maybe they are just so small we can't see them, but they are probably there. How many stories could you tell about that world?

Sunday Sport

[image error] If I were to say that I have a great imagination, it would be like calling the sun a tad hot or duck lips slightly annoying and unattractive. I have an immense imagination that impacts my reality like a comet crushing the very life out of the Earth. Now please watch Deep Impact so you can fully appreciate that statement. Actually don't, that movie is terrible torture and more depressing than Contact (although Contact is actually worse because it has Jodie Foster in it). Only today did I realise how much my imagination affects my thinking.

Some people might think I am gullible, because I seem to believe everything. It's true that I often take things at face value, unless it really interests me. However, I don't really believe in anything. This is another problem, so I'll cover it later. For the focus of this blog, let's stick on the track of imagination and see where it takes us.

What happens when I hear some fantastic news is that my imagination switches on and suddenly wonders what would happen if it were true. As we all know, the brain works so fast that I am already deep in conspiracy theories, doomsday scenarios and several generations of character arcs before I even begin to question the validity of the news I've heard. This often causes me worry as my imagination becomes my reality. I then have to reason my way to a pleasant out come to be comfortable again, and usually only then do I think about whether it might be true or not.

Take today for example. I watched a TV show that shows lots of random, funny and weird videos and the stars discuss them. They showed some videos of UFOs and an alien in the backyard of some American family. Then they showed an article that said 3 huge UFOs were spotted on their way to Earth and would arrive here this year, probably in December. This had apparently been announced by SETI. Immediately I was thinking of what the aliens intentions might be. Would they be here to kill us or take us away? Were they friendly? I thought it more likely they want to enslave us or something because, since it coincided with the end of the Mayan calendar, so it could be what caused the Mayans to disappear and therefore the same was going to happen to us. It seems more likely that aliens would periodically take us away to their galaxy to be slaves after we had breed for a few thousand years than they just come back and kill us all every few thousand years. So then I imagined all the horrors that they could do to us, to torture us, kill us and beat us into submission. There are things that we could not possibly imagine, as the chances of any factor of their life being similar to ours is minute. So I was thinking I would rather kill myself than be taken away. Then I thought how horrible it would be to only have less than a year left and struggled with the unfairness of it all. I started discussing this with my girlfriend and we talked about all the motivations and outcomes we could think of for them and researched some Mayan history and conspiracy theories. Only then, after about an hour of musing and speculation, reasoning and reassuring did I think that maybe the report was bollocks. It just fit so nicely into the 2012 theories and the videos of UFOs were so interesting. I don't think I really believed it, I just got carried away.

Today, I realised that I do this a lot, and I thought of how many times in my life this has skewed my perceptions in milder and mundane experiences. I'm not crazy, I'm not stupid, I just walk down a different path guided by a big beast with a leash, or maybe it's a beautiful woman since I like following it so.

Fame

I don’t want to be a world famous author for the fame and the money and the oodles of pliant women. No, no. That would be silly. I want to be a famous author so that someday someone will make awesome movies of my books and the main star will be played by some young prick who, when the series ends, won’t be remembered for anything else and he’ll fall into the usual hollywood comforts of drugs and heavy drink, ruining his life. THAT’s why I want to be a famous author.

Asian Hotness

[image error] It's said that Siberia, the dragon, is to blame for waves of extreme cold weather that are spreading on both sides of Russia. I guess he ate too much ice cream and is farting everywhere. Japan and Asia is getting a good blast and Europe is suffering too. It's said that some places have severe weather warnings, many deaths are expected with water shortages and food shortages affecting thousands. People are seriously worried. So would I be if all the ice cream had been eaten by a dragon. I have a solution though.
There's a girls group in Asia called SNSD or in correct English translation, Girls' Generation. They are so incredibly hot that if they were to hold a concert in each of the affected cities all ice there would melt instantly. People could then take refuge through the winter under the protection of super asian idol group hotness.
So effectively they are a super group. They are a superhero group saving millions with their gorgeous legs and dancing bodies. All I can think when I watch the video to this song (featured above) is "legs, legs, legs, legs!" Skimpy outfits save the world! Millions of people will thank them and then they can take off in their giant space robot to fly to the next destination and perform a new concert and save that city too.

I'm surprised they don't have an anime yet, but then they aren't Japanese.

Time Lord

[image error] I seem to be struggling under the weight of marketing my new book. There are many tasks I want to do to further my career and I end up wasting too much time on odd little things. So I'm going to schedule a task a day and that way, even if I make small progress, I will definitely get everything done --- a little. Let's see if it works. IN theory it should, but theories are terrible things. Thanks to them my favorite mugs have all broken....

So...
MONDAY: We'll have as a blogging day. I'll write a new entry and I'll catch up on reading other peoples' blogs too.

TUESDAY: This will be a WRITING day. I am to make progress on my main writing project (which is currently No Technobabble Please, We're Earthlings!).

WEDNESDAY: This shall be READING day. I am to have a relaxing time reading a book. Ah, the joys of research.

THURSDAY: This better be another BLOG day or I shall fall badly behind on reading and comments. Plus, of course, my own entry. Ideally I want to write daily if I can, but this way I will have a minimum of two a week.

FRIDAY: This should be my day to research and find new ways of MARKETING, writing and other such things. I'll search for new blogs, I'll boldly go where no.. one called Matthew Alistair Rowe has ever gone before.... maybe.

The weekend shall be free of course. It is my private time, but hopefully I also get a bit of stuff done. And of course, I'll keep on top of Twitter throughout the week. It shouldn't be hard, that monster is big enough I can just climb on its back and ride it like those worms in Dune.

How do you manage your time? Do you fumble along like I always do?

Battling the Elements

[image error] ...0r rather, the qualities of elements. The weather here has taken a sharp dip southwards (that's 'southwards' as in 'down' not 'southwards' as in 'towards the equator' because that would be warmer and the opposite to what I wanted to say; words are useless sometimes). Every night, I've had to be careful about the water pipes in the hope that they don't freeze, explode and make a nice ice sculpture that people certainly won't pay enough money to see and cover the cost of repairs. That's a real shame. Anyway, I've done a pretty good job so far. Every night I turn the water off and empty the pipes. However, yesterday things took a turn for the worst.

Despite being careful, there was no water yesterday morning. Nothing. I waited. Nothing. I did a dance. Nothing. Well, my cat looked at me funny. Then I turned on the heater. Usually this will make the water appear, preceded by a few splutters and chunks of ice, but it didn't this time. I worried about it. I thought I might have to call the owner and try and explain in Japanese that the water-pipe heater was probably broken. I didn't. As it turned out I had a much worse conversation to have with her later.

(NB. Damn it's hard to blog when I'm watching a 'One Piece' marathon)

So, I tried to imagine all the things which might have gone wrong with the water supply. I checked the TV news for earthquakes and aliens. Then I danced about a bit more and kept trying the taps. Then the girlfriend woke up and I summarized the morning so far. Together we decided that the heater was broken. So we settled down to a breakfast with hot drinks missing. While we were doing this, the toilet suddenly made noises and spluttered and crashed and then there was water. We celebrated and then realised that the kitchen taps were still frozen. At least the heater seemed to be working. After a bit more fussing, the water eventually came through the taps. It was just really, really cold.

Today was the same, so I didn't stress about it. I left the tap on to let the water eventually come through. I left the heater on until I went to work. I got on with my morning and washed at work, which isn't a third world country and has hot water. I got on with my day.

Until I got a message from the girl who helped me rent the apartment. The owner had called her and said the pipes had burst at my apartment! She would have to send someone around to fix it... or she had already. I wasn't sure of the tense. So I panicked because we have a secret cat. It's like a normal cat, but when the owner finds out about it you suddenly have no apartment anymore. If she had seen it already, I didn't want to speak to her, but I couldn't run the risk of her still having to find it. So I escaped from work - like a ninja (a ninja with a note from his mum) - and headed home. I approached my apartment half expecting a van to be parked outside and an angry owner waiting for me with a scared cat, so I was sneaking. I got to the corner and couldn't see anyone, but the water was running down the side of the building. I stomped upstairs to the door, still thinking there might be someone inside, and unlocked it.... but my key got stuck in the lock, and the key, like a leech, was stuck to my trousers. I fought with it, cursing the timing and eventually tore the keys of my clothes, not from the lock. I went inside. The place was empty, except for all the water cascading from the sink. There was no cat. My first thought was that the owner had been in and rescued her. As I thought about what conversation was to come, I picked up damp letters and made my way to the sink. While maneuvering I managed to see that the cat was lying on our bed, safe in the dry living room. I turned off the tap and assessed the damage. Crap! There was a few millimetres of water across the kitchen.

Then it hit me what a stroke of luck this was. There was no actual damage; I had just left the tap open while it was still frozen and it had defrosted when the house was empty. The girlfriend didn't know and so hadn't turned it off before leaving for work. So no repairman was needed. I hid the cat and all her stuff in the cupboard anyway - we have big cupboards, and also, sorry, cat! - then I went downstairs to apologise to the man downstairs.

When I got there, his windows were now open, so I called to him and knocked on the door. He came out and I apologised, trying to explain as best as I could what was happening, but making sure he understood that everything was okay and didn't want to come upstairs to see.
"Have you spoken to the owner?" he asked.
"I'm just going now."
I did. I had basically the same conversation, but she told me to be more careful. Once again. I made sure everything was okay an understood that in no way did anyone need to come upstairs. Then I went upstairs myself and started mopping up the water. I can be a hypocrite. I used all the towels we had and took turns wrenching the water out in the sink. I let the cat out the cupboard too. She was remarkably fine with the idea of playing with her ball in the dark cupboard, but came to watch me anyway. She tried to walk in the kitchen but after dabbing her paws in cold water and hastily shaking it off a couple of times, she decided enough was enough and went to watch from the doorway only. Once I had finally finished I went downstairs to tell the guy that it was taken care off. He was just mopping up the last drips with a towel.
"Seriously, don't go upstairs. It's okay," I said.

Now, the floor is still a little wet, all my towels are currently frozen on the washing line outside and the water is already turned off so that I don't have to deal with this in the morning again. However, the good of it is that I got to speak a bit more with my neighbour. He seems like an okay guy. I went to buy a present for him by way of apology. All I could think to get was some sake - old Japanese guys drink sake right? - and then I took it to him. However, he said that he doesn't drink much and eventually gave it back to me after a conversation. I enjoyed the talking, but I felt bad he rejected the present. However, I also got the afternoon off work, tomorrow off work and Wednesday afternoon off work. Holiday! Yo-sh!

So there's my adventure with the elements. They won this round, but I'm prepared for their tricks now. The battle rages on...

Prompted 2

[image error] This blog entry is sponsered by the A+ Writing Prompts App by Writing.com available for all Apple devices in the app store. No, they aren't paying me to say that. I just don't want to get sued. Come back each week for a new prompt and activity.

John picked his carton of milk out of the fridge and gave himself a generous splash in his tea. He held the carton down on the counter. He slammed the tea into his mouth like it was a Friday night shot and then wince as his lips were splashed with a sharp pain.
He gasped and jumped, spilling more tea.
"Bloody typical."
It was Monday, Monday afternoon.
As he resolutely decided not to look down at the pale stains now seeping into his shirt, his eyes found a resting place in the picture on the milk carton. Another missing person. Another middle aged man. There had been some others, but most in this bizarre recent string of disappearances had been just like this fellow, just like John would be in a few years.
Fuck it. He was going to ask the manager for that holiday. He could afford it. He needed it. He had just been afraid to push for his privileges what with the economy the way it was now.
He stormed off leaving the milk on the counter but the tea still in his hands and went straight for the boss's office.
"Hey, John. Where are-?"
"I'm talking to the manager. Here, hold this."
John didn't even stop. He handed the cup of tea to Joyce, the secretary, in mid stride. He pushed open the door to his manager's office.
"Hi, Mr. Michaels?"
There was no response. There was, however, the strong odour of wet dogs. Plural. There was definitely more than one.
"Mr. Michaels?" John asked one more time and then turned around to ask Joyce if he had nipped out for his afternoon Playboy - something they often joked about. Yet, he found she had vanished too.
The smell of wet dog hit his nostrils again.
"What the -?"
She couldn't possibly have left. He hadn't been that distracted. His eyes darted about, and he considered looking under the desk to see if she were playing hide and seek, but he thought better of it and stumbled, jogged and careened back to the main office floor where his own desk was.
No one, but some thing was there. Several somethings in fact. Amidst the square maze of the cubicles, flashes of blue appeared and disappeared like swamp gas.
At the opening to the closest cubicle he could see more clearly what was going on.
Hunched over the unconscious form of Hot Robin (at least that was her office nickname, for obvious reasons) was a figure of unearthly description. It was a bony skeleton of slimy pale flesh. It was about to pick her up but it seemed to notice him. The closest thing it had to a head, turned.
"What are you looking at?" it said, and then after scooping up its prey in tendril-like arms it disappeared with a fiery blue glow. Then, the smell of wet dog.
John was frozen.
His first thought that his brain could catch hold of long enough to examine told him that he should probably phone his son because he read all those comic books.
He heard a noise behind him and turned. Inches from his face was another of the creatures. It's face looked like the flesh of an uncooked, skinless chicken, but it pulsed blue inside.
An area which might have been eyes swam about and it spoke, mouthlessly. "Time to go"
Then everything, for John went blue and black.

Now you may think that I forgot the pyramids in this excerpt but that is actually the first thing I made use of in my short little brain plan. Where do you think John was taken too? Like most monsters in movies, I thought this detail was best left unseen. Also, I couldn't think of a reason why aliens would be storing people in pyramids without ripping off Stargate. Deal with it.

Anyone else care to offer up an attempt?