Tag Archives: August

Junk Yard

I come to you from a suspicious place of bright and warmth amidst a sea of lashing rain and skies of battleship grey (which is not a great colour to paint your walls.) Perhaps it might even be the last hurrah of summer before autumn finally trundles into town. But then again the weather is nothing if not contrary and fickle, it is an unpredictable beast, almost as if it is caused by the interaction of a complex series of ever-changing factors. That of course is ridiculous. Everyone knows that weather is caused by the wizard who lives atop your nearest mountain.

But as ever, I digress. I digress like unto a boss whose sole and single purview in life is and will always be digressing. To the matter at hand: Short stories. Short stories about a Junk Yard, based on the work of Kali Ciesemier.

36 - Aug 2014 - Junk Yard

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August’s Pictonaut Challenge

Number 36. Thirty Six. It’s not just a bus I didn’t like to get in my Uni days (they wanted exact change only.) This is the 36th time which the Pictonaut Challenge has sallied forth into the grimy, forgotten places of cyberspace. So this iteration will see the closing out of the third year that I’ve been doing this. That is not an inconsiderable span of years. For three whole years I’ve cranked out a horrid and wretched wordascope once and month, every month, without fail. It’s an achievement of sorts, an achievement which is now a vast sprawling behemoth of some forty seven and a half thousand words. So I think I’ve earnt the right to blow my own trumpet a little. But I won’t. Mainly because I don’t know how to play the trumpet. Also it sounds vaguely like a sex thing. Some how I’ve kept going, though I fear my creative juices may now be running low. I fear that I may have to go scrounging around in the Junk Yard.

36 - Aug 2014 - Junk Yard

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Voyage to the Planets

Months are oft wont to slip by without you noticing. August has basically evaporated. And considering the continued fair weather that’s hardly surprising. This spate of fair weather was interrupted by one event of note however. A rain storm which I had the misfortune to by cycling home in. A rain storm so fierce and mighty, of such raw unbridled power that it managed to more or less dissolve parts of my new trainers. It also made me very, very wet. Which, if you think about it, is pretty much rain’s raison d’etre. At least I think that happened this month. Time has a very annoying habit of just blurring together in my head, events become transposed across dates. Things which happened in 2006 still feel very much like “only last week.” Yet despite the alleged duality of time and space I have yet to find similar things happening with my own personal geography. There has been no finding myself in two places at once. Which is a shame, because that would be super handy.

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August’s Pictonaut Challenge

It’s August now. This is a fact which I am having a great deal of trouble comprehending. How can it conceivably be August? Already? Come on, you’re having a laugh! Seriously? August? Already? Fucking hell…

That means that I’ve been snuggled away in my little one bedroom flat for nearly 10 months. It also means I’ve been down in the deepest, darkest and most hideously depraved outlands of southern England for 2 years. Time is relentless in its surging forwards. The future is always rushing straight at us waving a big sign, which in large black capitals reads “LOOK AT ME!” It’s also my little brother’s birthday. A person who in my mind’s eye will always remain about 11 years old, is now edging ever further into his 20s. That’s not even remotely terrifying. But such is life. It is relentless. It is without mercy. It is unfathomable. It is cruel and it is cold.

In those respects it’s just like space (Tenuous segue ahoy!) Space is cool. Space is out future and it is our salvation. Space is absolutely fucking everywhere. So take your protein pills, put your helmet on and prepare for a Voyage to the Planets.

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A Man Drinks Tea

The Pictonaut Challenge has now been going for three hundred and sixty-seven days. It all began back on August 3oth 2011 with This Blog Needs You my plaintive cry to the faceless multitudes of the internet to join me in writing some fiction, once a month, every month; till the earth’s seas do boil away and the realm of man turn unto dust; until every star in the night sky winks out and the void finally grows cold and still; until the mere memory of words is all that remains; until I get bored and finally give up. But as of yet I haven’t given up, nor have I been alone in my endeavours. Every month at least one poor sap has joined me in my writing, sometimes more than that, but I have never soldiered on alone. I’d like to take the time to thank all of those who joined in and cranking out a wordascope wretched or otherwise, but most importantly of all I would like the thank my own stubbornness for forcing me to keep going. I’m a year down the line and I now have some twelve thousand odd words. Twelve thousand odd words which I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t started this whole mad idea. Sure it’s no 12 books in 12 months, but it’s a damn side better than having written nothing at all. Add to this NaNoWriMo and all of the blog posts I’ve pumped out and I’d estimate that in the year since I started this project I’ve written 111,000 words. Now that’s almost respectable.

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August’s Pictonaut Challenge

So we’ve finally found our way into the month of August. August is a funny month, but then again all months are funny in one way of t’other. In this instance it’s not that August can be used as an adjective, placing it into a very small category of English words who’s meaning changes when capitalised or not. For me the funniness of August derives, like so many things in my own twisted world view, from the weather. August in England sits awkwardly between summer and autumn and never seems to be quite content on remaining in one category or the other. It swings from vast, mind blisteringly hot Indian summers one year to icy gales and torrential, autumnal rain the next. It’s over the middle hump of the year and August is so often the month that shows us just how shallow or steep the slope down towards winter is. Now it’s probably best that I dispense with the painful highlighting of my Englishness through to endless discussion of the weather and get to the mater at hand. August’s Pictonaut Challenge.

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