Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Fictional Deaths, Fallible Days

More thoughts about literature. Also a discussion on leap years.

I seem to often find myself in a position of emotional detachment from fictional characters written by other authors. I rarely cry when a fictitious character dies (with the notable exceptions of Dobby and Dumbledore). Yet I do not have the ability to kill off my own characters. I become far too attached to them. It would be paramount to murder. So I found that rather odd. I have a detatchment to chararcters of others yet an attachment to those of my own. So I admire authors for that level of bravery. Brave brave people they are indeed.

(I phrased it better in my head. It was all poetic. But then I forgot how I phrased it.)

Anyway today is the 29th of February. And since I won't have the opportunity for another four years I felt I had to post something. So having mentioned the fictional deaths let us move onto the fallible days. (Or more accurately fallible calendars). So the reason for leap days is the universe is indifferent to human attempts to measure time neatly. The orbit of the Earth around the sun and the revolution of the Earth around its axis do not match up to make nice whole numbers. Making calendars of years split up into days (i.e.  measuring the orbit of the Earth around the sun based on the number of times it spins around its axis) is the equivalent of measuring the speed of a flying chimpanzee based on the number of times my imaginary albeit adorable kitten can say the word cupcake a minute. In other words convenient but irrelevant. And in the case of my second example neither convenient or relevant. Though you may have wished for a convenient second example it just didn't work out that way. The universe is like that.
Anyway sidetracked. So to try and align the orbit of the Earth and the rotation of the Earth so they stay the same we add in a leap year. Except if the year is divisible by 100. (e.g. 1800, 1900). But if the year is divisible by 400 then it is a leap year (1600,2000 etc.). Thus by this complicated system we have ensured that the days will align with the years for the next 8000 years. But then it will be a day off again. And we shall have to invent a new calendar. Or just ignore it or something.

Also those people born on the 29th of February are known as leaplings. Does anybody know any leaplings? I know one fictional one.

Saturday, 25 February 2012

My Thoughts Are Stars That I Cannot Fathom Into Constellations

So this post is just some random musings of mine. But from out of them came an idea and I decided I'd share it. Maybe some of you can relate.

So the original quote is one from The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. I cannot praise it enough. Not only is it an excellent book but it has inspired so many others to excellence too.

It goes as follows.

"My thoughts are stars that I cannot fathom into constellations". My musings are as follows:

My thoughts are stars that I cannot fathom into constellations. Beautiful wonderful thoughts and ideas that just randomly appear and disappear from my brain. But I cannot strucutre them. Well a little. I can take my thoughts and make poems out of them. Yet poems are short things. The aim of story writing is one that I often feel is beyond me. I have the stars to make them but they soon peeter out when I start writing. The thing about books is they require patience. Patience and words. A lot of words. And my ideas express themselves in tiny amounts of words. They say a picture paints a thousand words. Well then the most I have ever written and completed is one solitary picture. But constellations are human constructs. Arbitrary things. And the random sprawl of the stars is one of incredible beauty like the random sprawl of thoughts in my head. Yet beautiful thoughts mean nothing if you cannot express them. And that is why we make constellations. Arbitrary doesn't mean they lack importance. And so I strive to fathom my thoughts into constellations. Maybe one day I will succeed. Maybe.
But for now I am content with my stars.

Tuesday, 21 February 2012

Amphigory Mumpsimus

Well here is my OC for Amphigory Mumpsimus. Also can be found on Biorama. He's so adorable. He'll be featuring in a poem some time soon. Well I hope so.
Just to get to know him here is an OC.

NAME: Amphigory Mumpsimus
AGE: 104- looks 104
HAIR COLOR: Bald- but hazel-y brown back when he had hair
HAIR STYLE: Well it used to be a monastic tonsure. Now he doesn’t have one.
HEIGHT: 5ft 7
WEIGHT: 168 pounds
BODY TYPE: Well I would say he has a rotund body shape.
PERSONALITY: Obstinate. Rather frail and tottery now. Ridiculously obstinate. Eccentric. His viewpoints are often nonsensical and bizarre. But he stubbornly maintains them.
WEARS: A plain brown habit consisting of a tunic, scapular, cowl and hood.
FAVORITE COLORS: Beige. Brown. Anything suitably dull and dreary.
NATIONALITY AND ACCENT: Oh British most definitely. Probably a Novocastrian.   With a rather gruff voice. And a Geordie accent.
HISTORY:  Well born in 1908. Orphaned. Taken in by the local monastery. Always a child who preferred his own company. Grew up as a monk. His bizarre religious views meant that he was often kept out of sight. Now he is old. Nothing particularly exciting. He led a life as a scribe and a pea planter devoted to God. I only really made him because he’s adorable.  
FAMILY: None. An orphan and an only child. Also a bachelor.
POWERS: Well none magical wise as he is a mortal.
FAVORITE WEAPONS: Monks? With weapons? Obviously his staff and flowerpot combination.
OTHER SKILLS: The flowerpots come in handy for growing pea plants in.
FRIENDS: Octaboona Ambrosius. Kallista Pendragon. Hestia Honeysuckle. Clarabelle.
ENEMIES: Why those dratted tomato planters. Blasphemers the lot of them! And don’t get him started on those devoted to the cauliflower. THE ONLY TRUE WAY IS THE PEA WAY!
HATES: Any vegetable that isn’t a pea. Also barley soup. And cats.
LIKES: (Can you guess?)
ADDRESS:  He still lives in the monastery. Somewhere near Newcastle.
JOB: Scribe. The pea planting is more of a hobby. Mania. Whatever.
MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: His legs still serve him pretty well.
NEVER SEEN WITHOUT:  His flowerpots. His staff. And his pea seeds.
IN FIVE WORDS: Obstinate monk loves pea plants.
NOTES:  Peas. Peas. Peas. DIE YOU BELIEVERS IN THE ASPARAGUS. Peas. Peas. Peas. Peas. I am not a hedgehog. Please go away. I have peas to plant.

Monday, 20 February 2012

Sunshine and Starlight

So I was thinking about words. And how they rhyme. And how weird it is that you can take a long complicated (relatively) word such as adolescent and there are absolutely loads of words that rhyme with it (I found 15), yet for a simple little word like purple there are none to be found.
And from that this limerick was born. (And two others which are really bad because I was just cramming in words rhyming with adolsecent).

Sunshine and Starlight

There once was a young adolescent
Who went by the name of Rubescent
The shadows she’d shun
For the shine of the sun
And the glow of the stars luminescent

Sunday, 19 February 2012


Just to give you warning. This isn't about me. I'm fine truly. This is based partly on The Fault In Our Stars but the relationship is between two fictional characters (I can't reveal who- spoilers- but those who know should be able to guess).
Anyway I hope you enjoy!


Roses are red,
Violets are blue
It was a privilege to have
My heart broken by you

Though my heart is in pieces
Each piece still loves you
A choice I am happy with
A choice not thought through

You left more than footprints
You tread not with care
You took more than pictures
Now taint with despair

You claim that the fault
Lies in me, or the stars
But never in you
The fault is not yours

Yet you chose to end this
You broke my heart
You slept with another
You tore us apart

Saturday, 18 February 2012

A Very Skulduggery Day Out

So last Wednesday I believe was the very first blogger union. Myself, Pyro, Venice and Gen all met up and spent an afternoon wandering around the streets of London. We eventually ended up outside Buckingham Palace. I doubt that I shall be able to describe the experience properly as I'm not really sure what to say.  We didn't actually do very much apart from a lot of walking and talking. But it was an extremely awesome experience. After meeting up at a train station- all arriving at varying degrees of lateness, we just walked around looking into some shops and eventually ending up outside Buckingham Palace. We were all wearing unusual hats except for Pyro who didn't participate. I wore a fez, and Gen and Ven wore sailor hats. Despite our best efforts we were unable to get Pyro to wear a policeman helmet. So um... yeah. We had a great time. Here be some pictures.

Pyro did eventually give in and wear the sailor hat for the photo

Our attempts at taking the photo ourselves sort of failed.

I think I forgot to explain to the tourist how to use the zoom button.

So Pyro took a photo instead. Also I look like a giraffe.

So thus concludes our Very Skulduggery Day Out. I hope to repeat the experience sometime soon. And if anyone else wants to write up a better version please feel free.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Potter Puppet Pals

*is crying with laughter and also sad tears*

I just discovered the best Potter Puppet Pals yet (in my humble opinion).

Neville's Birthday had me crying with laughter. It features everything you want in a youtube video. Cake, Naked Dumbledore, a heartfelt soliloquy of regret you name it. It even includes butternut squash and a foot with a drawing of Cedric Diggory's face on it.

And my second favourite Potter Puppet Pals is Snape's Diary. This is the one that gets me crying my sad tears. I do believe I love Snape as a character even more than I did before. My heart moves for you Snape! May you find your missing button and achieve happiness for the first time.

And since finally no post about PPP would be complete without it, here is the classic Mysterious Ticking Noise.

 My day shall now be spent singing/ quoting these vidoes. And then I shall know them by heart.

Monday, 13 February 2012

An Amphigory

So this poem belongs to a type of poem known as an amphigory.

Amphigory am'fi-ge-ree, n (French amphigouri, of unknown origin)

A nonsense verse. Specifically, a poem designed to look and sound good, but which has no meaning upon closer reading.
So that makes it sound much smarter and knowledgable than my own term 'Sound Poem'.

Sound poem? Nay! Tis an amphigory! By jove ye cynical brethren! Tis not to be understood! This be art!

So anyway here is my amphigory. Enjoy!

The aeolian popple of wurzel bassoon
The coalescent dactyl of egregious foon
The violaceous ravine of umbrous ooze
Kallista! Lacuna! Tantalise! Choose!
A mellifluous nexus of zephyr and gloam
Querciverous Jabberwocky hyacinth roam
A salivicious susurrus of silence and styx
A savage serendipity of sizzle and spit
Gruffalo grumble grail and grove
Querulous quagmire quaint quince quove
Charcoal chink
Perilous paladin pious and pink
Xanth and Yolanda together they took
The eerie oliphant of inglenook
Glades galumphing
Amaranth swell
Ragabash rutabaga
Rabble revel