Wednesday, March 18. 2009
A Magic Teapot to Call Your Own Posted by Johnny Elbows
in Playing a meta-game with the same theme at
14:33
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"Darjeeling? Where's that?" Those were Damon's first two questions. His third question was the one that really mattered to him, though. "Why now?"
"It's the opportunity of a lifetime," answered his father. "Have you ever heard of the Padmaja Naidu Himalayan Zoological Park?" "No, and neither have most normal people. Dad, this is my senior year. San Diego was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, too, remember? I don't care if Noah called and wants you to cure all of the animals on the ark. I don't want to leave." Damon could tell from the deep breaths that his father was counting to ten. Knowing that it was the only way he could win, Damon spoke again before his father reached ten. "You know what? I don't care. You go ahead and do whatever you think you should. I'm just your son. My opinion's not really that important." With that, he turned and stalked out of the room, ignoring his father's attempts to call him back. Darjeeling surprised Damon; for the most part, he liked it. His father had to call in a lot of favors to make it work, but he managed to get Damon enrolled in St. Joseph's School. As the only American in the school, he was a bit of an anomaly. After the initial novelty wore off, most everyone just left him alone. It wasn't anything like home, and sometimes Damon was lonely, but he had to admit that it was far better than the two years they had spent in St. Louis. Before long, he found himself wandering in the foothills of the Himalayas almost every day after school. Continue reading "A Magic Teapot to Call Your Own" Monday, March 16. 2009
Playing a meta-game with the same theme Posted by Johnny Elbows
in Playing a meta-game with the same theme at
14:57
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Several years ago, I took a class on narrative styles. In that class, we discussed the effects that the narrator's point of view has on the actual story. We read several books and short stories, each narrated from a different point of view, and examined how the point of view affected the story. That class fascinated me, and as a result, I have enjoyed playing with the narrators' points-of-view in my writing.
In all of my experimentation, however, I had never gotten around to experimenting with a point of view that was very popular in the late 1800's and early 1900's. This point of view consists of a narrator who talks about another person, who, in turn, tells the story. When I decided to write "In the Eye of the Beholder," I thought that this story would be an interesting way to experiment with that narrative style. In my experiment, I found the narrative style extremely limiting. Not only was the plot different from many of my plots, but the narrative style forced me to use a very different voice than I am used to. AoD and I discussed that change. AoD: I hope I'm not giving you the wrong impression; I really liked it. It was just, as you had warned me, a significant departure from what I usually think of as your "voice". From there, things snowballed. AoD and I recruited Daboo, and we all wrote a story that followed that theme. During the next week, we will be posting our stories. We hope that you will enjoy them, and that you will think about the subject yourself: What if there was a person who had no identity but the identity that other people gave him? Tuesday, March 3. 2009In the Eye of the Beholder
The car rolled to a stop at the top of the hill, and the driver turned to look over his shoulder. "You sure about this, miss?" The young lady in the back seat nodded confidently, but he could see her hands nervously smoothing the folds of her party dress. "Well, if you run into trouble, I'll be waiting right here. You just come a running, and I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, Ernie. I know I can count on you." She smiled bravely, opened the door, and began walking. The lengthening shadows of evening made the house seem more forbidding than it had earlier in the day when she had decided to accept the invitation. Then, it had seemed to be a cheery, if lonely, Victorian mansion. Now, it had more of the feeling of a haunted house. One, two, three, four, five. She climbed the steps up onto the porch, and paused. The invitation had come by mail two weeks before. It was an old-fashioned thing with gilt letters and an ornately embossed black border. It definitely had not been printed on a bubble jet printer, she thought, and smiled in spite of her nerves. What kind of man would send such an invitation? She didn't know. But then again, she didn't know what kind of man would invite a woman that he had never met to join him for a birthday party, either. Her hand trembled very slightly as she reached for the brass knocker. She knocked twice, and heard footsteps approach immediately after the knock. The door opened quickly. For a moment, both of them surveyed each other wordlessly. He was a large man, tall and quite broad, but he stood rather stoop-shouldered, and one leg seemed shorter than the other. He was dressed all in black; the red rose in his lapel stood out strongly because of the contrast, and his pale skin seemed white against the somber color of his suit. Her neighbors had told her that she shouldn't go to the party. They said that he was a monster. So far, only his face matched their description. His mouth seemed to have been twisted hard to the left, and a single knife-edged tooth protruded from its extreme edge. In pulling his mouth to the left, his nose had also been twisted, though it still bore close resemblance to a human nose. She almost gasped when she finally saw his eyes. The right eye was a brilliant, icy blue. The left was covered by a heavy patch. He stepped back from the door and gestured for her to enter. "Please come in." His speech, though husky, was easy to understand, and much different from the growl she expected. "Unfortunately, all of the other guests have declined my invitation." Continue reading "In the Eye of the Beholder" Saturday, February 21. 2009My Thoughts On Originality
This entry started out as a response to Swatson's comments on my sketch, but it grew, and I have decided to post it as its own entry.
Rather than answering the question, "What is your definition of an original story," I would prefer to sidestep the question, and answer a question that I believe is more important: Does originality deserve the importance that our society places upon it? "My house." "My car." "My clothes." All of these possessions make sense to me, but "My Idea" makes very little sense. I do not believe that ideas are created ex nihilo, rather, creativity is the ability to combine old ideas in new ways. This creativity, the ability to synthesize ideas, is much more important than originality. Our society reveres Sir Isaac Newton as a great thinker, but even he acknowledged that much of his "original thought" depended upon the work of others who went before him, stating, "What Descartes did was a good step. You have added much several ways, and especially in taking the colours of thin plates into philosophical consideration. If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." Even in this statement, Newton was borrowing from the thinking of others. Several years ago, I was talking to a Jehovah's Witness. He told me that the only book that he needed to read was the Bible. When I asked him how this could possibly be true, he told me that every book, at its core, retells ideas that are already in the Bible. He argued that because all of the other books draw from the Bible, he could learn everything that he needed to know by studying the Bible. While Joseph Campbell does not use his ideas as a filter for his reading material, he seems make a very similar argument. He states that nearly every myth, and nearly every story about a hero draws from an overarching mythos, and is essentially a re-telling of a story that has been told hundreds of times before. Even The Preacher gets into the act, stating that "The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun" (Ecclesiastes 1:9). Continue reading "My Thoughts On Originality" Thursday, February 19. 2009A Sketch
Most of the time, when I am writing, I start out with a character or characters who fascinate me. In an effort to get to know the characters better, I place them in situations, and watch how they react. Sometimes, these situations evolve, and eventually become stories. Other times, they remain no more than contrived situations, sketches that reveal a few isolated characteristics of the characters.
What follows is one such sketch. It is not a complete story, and I do not have a complete story in my mind. It is an isolated incident, an experiment to see how the characters react. If you read this expecting the story to have a continuation, a resolution, or a plot, you will be disappointed. If, however, you read it to find out about the characters, you may be entertained or intrigued, and it may just jog a story loose somewhere in your brain. Continue reading "A Sketch" Tuesday, January 27. 2009An Announcement
Ahem, ahem, ahem, ahem.
I have an announcement to make. As part of our continuing effort to improve the earth, Mrs. Johnny Elbows and I have started a blog. Our blog is a food blog. We will be posting recipes on it. Some of them will be old favorites, some will be new inventions, and some might be chronicles of our disastrous attempts to create something new. You can find our blog here. Feel free to let us know what you think. Saturday, December 20. 2008Reboot
"Are there any questions?" Silence. "Does anyone have reservations?" He looked around the small room for several seconds. Finally, one man raised his hand.
"Actually, I do have a question. Are you sure we have the money to do all of this?" The response was silence, at least at first. Then a man in a grey suit stood. "Preliminary estimates state that we will have a budget deficit of about 1.5 billion US dollars. We are currently raising funds in an attempt to reduce that deficit, but in the end we may have to borrow." The man paused, and smiled. "If the plan succeeds, you know, all of our debts will be forgiven." A ripple of nervous laughter bounced around the room. It died out quickly. "Again, I ask, are there any questions? Any reservations?" This time, the silence that greeted his query was deep and lasting. "All right, then. You know your work." Let's get started. As they filed out, he was struck by their silence. There were no conversations, no jokes, no hurried whispers. Just the sound of shuffling feet, and, every now and then, a nervous cough or two. Military uniforms mixed with business suits and cassocks. "God is no respecter of persons," he murmured to himself. "It will work. It must work." His whispers barely reached his own ears. "Conquest, War, Famine, Death. It must work." Continue reading "Reboot" Wednesday, October 8. 2008Ancient of Days for President
This cartoon inspired quite a conversation between AoD and I. Someone once told me that discussing politics is the best way to offend friends. If you're willing to be my friend even if I offend you with my political views, please keep reading.
Continue reading "Ancient of Days for President" Monday, September 29. 2008Politics and Pointing Fingers.
Earlier today, Sideshow shared an article from CNN with me. His comment on the article was, "If lawmakers spent half as much time trying to get things done, as they do blaming one another, we'd be a lot better off."
Sideshow, I'm going to have to respectfully disagree with you. I believe that the men who wrote the Constitution not only knew that things like this would happen; I believe that they expected it and wanted it to happen this way. I believe that the men who wrote the Constitution believed, like I believe, that hasty decisions are, generally speaking, poorly thought out and poorly implemented. Our government isn't designed to get things done quickly. In history class, we learn about the checks and balances that are built into the Constitution, but as our history teachers praise these checks and balances, they often fail to point out what their real purpose is. The checks and balances help to preserve freedom by making it hard to pass laws. They make it so that our government can't get anything done. They encourage politicians to sit around pointing fingers instead of accomplishing things. I don't know about you, but I'd rather have them pointing fingers--at least then their hands aren't reaching into my wallet. Wednesday, August 27. 2008Javascript Debugging
Hopefully, AOD won't mind that I'm appropriating space in one of his categories, but let's be honest--javascript debugging is not a subject that will enthrall most of the readers that frequent this blog. With that being said, here are some things that I've discovered in my forays into javascript development.
Firebug is your friend. Even with firebug, there are a lot of bugs that only show up in Internet Explo[d]er. If you need the same basic functionality in IE, here's how you can get it:
Thursday, June 19. 2008Patriotism and Wiretaps
A new domestic wiretap law is looking like it will soon pass the House of Representatives (see this article for more information).
Among other things, this law will, for all intents and purposes, grant retroactive immunity to the telecommunications providers who, illegally, cooperated with past wiretap requests. Why are our representatives issuing a "Get Out of Jail Free" card to these organizations who deserve punishment for their criminal actions? This quote from the above-referenced article is very revealing:
In other words, according to Representative Hoekstra, these organizations deserve to be let off the hook because they were patriotic. Perhaps, according to Hoestra's definition of patriotism, they were patriotic. I have to say though, that I have a different definition of patriotism. Continue reading "Patriotism and Wiretaps" Saturday, September 29. 2007
Javascript Color Fader Posted by Johnny Elbows
in Personal Entry at
14:55
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I had a kind of interesting idea last night. I got bored, and decided to write a set of javascript functions that would allow programmers to fade something from one color to another. I don't mean that this would allow them to create a gradient. I mean that this would allow them to change the color of an element from one color to another with a kind of fading transition between the two colors. It's kind of a niche need, and it's not really very complicated, but I still had fun with it.
The first step is to get the current color of the element. In IE, you can do this by calling: color = colorBlock.currentStyle.color; In Firefox, you get the color by calling: color = document.defaultView.getComputedStyle(colorBlock, '').getPropertyValue("color"); IE returns the color in whatever format you entered it, so if you gave it a hex color, IE returns the color in hex, and if you gave it an RGB color, it returns the color in RGB. Firefox converts all colors to RGB, and always returns the color in RGB. Continue reading "Javascript Color Fader" Sunday, July 15. 2007Saturday, July 14. 2007
Power of an Unknown Kind Posted by Johnny Elbows
in A Defense of My Life, by Jonathan Bicara at
22:12
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The image of David's lifeless body lingered in my mind even after I opened my eyes. Heart pounding, I stared upward, listening as the wind whispered among the trees. It carried on its wings the scent of new rain. As I watched, clouds crept across the sky, slowly blotting out the stars. I must have fallen asleep again, because I woke to the sound of David unzipping his sleeping bag.
He rolled to his feet, and spread his arms, grinning and stretching. "Look at this!" I sat up slowly, amazed by what I saw. Our camp was an island of clarity in a ghostly world of silver and green. Trees swam in and out of the swirling mist, droplets clinging to their branches like jewels glittering in the half-light of morning. "How'd you sleep?" I automatically started to answer, "Fine" but stopped myself. I searched for an explanation, but ended up just saying, "I had a really weird dream. It kind of bugged me." "Oh yeah? You know, during finals last year, I dreamed that I was being attacked by a box full of pencils. Totally messed with me. I couldn't pick up a pencil for several days afterward. Just scared me to death." He just stood there, grinning. I tried to respond, but found myself torn. I felt a laugh tickling at the back of my throat, but at the same time, every time I looked at him, I remembered the pale, lifeless face from my dream, and froze, paralyzed by guilt and grief. At last, I shook my head and muttered, "Mine wasn't like that." David looked at me, his gaze suddenly penetrating and serious. "Are you OK?" Again, I shook my head, numbly. My voice was almost a whisper. "I gotta tell you something." Continue reading "Power of an Unknown Kind" Sunday, June 24. 2007
Preface Posted by Johnny Elbows
in A Defense of My Life, by Jonathan Bicara at
03:39
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OK. So, I've decided that I ought to try to finish the story that I originally called "The Nature of Things" (I've changed the name now. It's now called, "A Defense of My Life, by Jonathan Bicara). I'm picking it up again, but I'm not picking it up exactly where I left off. Instead, I've decided that things will make the most sense when the story's finished if I give you a little bit of a preface. So, without further ado, here is the preface.
The prisoner stood before me, tall and proud, ignoring the sounds that echoed through the cavern. Hundreds of people gathered under the floating globe lights, all of them, like me, looking at the prisoner. Some were mourning. Others looked angry. None looked emotionless. We all knew who he was, but as a matter of procedure, the bailiff called out: "Prisoner, please state your name." "I am Jonathan Bicara." "Jonathan Bicara, you are hereby charged with treason. How do you plead?" "I don't know." The bailiff looked perplexed, and glanced up at me. "Jon, please," I said, "are you guilty or not?" The prisoner took a deep breath, and spoke loudly. "Guilt is a feeling, not a state of being. Yes, I did commit the crime that you are accusing me of committing, but no, I do not feel any guilt for my actions." Continue reading "Preface" |
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