Random piece of writing No. 2

Random Piece of Writing from a year ago. 

Hot breath still tingles against the back of my neck. Huff, the whine, the snap of dogs teeth. Dogs teeth meant to hunt. Hot breath meant to gather my being in its nose.

                I don't hate the dog. No sir.

                I hate that long bitter chain making the poor dog listen to the bitter man at the end. The animal vanishes in his grasp. The human vanishes. I stop being me. I am his. His thing. His No one. 

Sample of Writing From Before

I'm cleaning my files up, for the first time in 3 years. Possibly part of my writing problem is my lack of organization....

Anyway, here is something I found, as part of a re-write of my first ever finished novel.   Enjoy :)

***

In the bitterness of the wind turned swiftly into numbness. Cloak wrapped tightly around her, it did little to stave the wind, that viewed her clothes as something of a joke. Over the white landscape, she felt miniscule, each step barely an inch forwards in the nearly waist deep snow.

                It'd darkened so quickly, she had not realized until the sky was the colour of ash and mauve.

                The back on her back shielded her slightly from the gales when the cut down from behind. It had her low sloping tent. She thought to put it down, but wondered if she would get it up again with the drifts moving quickly.

                The world seemed like a white hurricane, the weight of the mountains behind and right before her.  Winds dove down ripping awa

Cod: A biography of a Fish That Changed the World

Reading a fascinating book on Cod. It's by Mark Kurlansky, the guy who wrote the book on Salt. I'm not surprised he wrote the cod book, as cod was salted as part of its preservation process. I got the book based off the cover. That beautiful plate style drawing of cod is something that tickles my fancy, with the added photograph of what its going to get at, how people were so involved in its life.

In short, hawt, eye catching cover.

I love well told history. Not the historical romances, or even the the regular historcal novels, though there are some gems within. A nonfiction history book, where the purpose is to learn something new is a gem to behold when it is well written.

So Cod I am reading and I forget what it's like to even read history beyond a public school level. I have not been studying history to the diligent minutia as I had in university. But there was this feeling I remember getting, some time in my second year, where my view on a historical event was thrown on its head.

This book has done that.

When I picture early exploration of the Canadian coast by white explorers, I see one lone ship.
This book made me realize how bias history in public school is. Jacque Cartier was not alone when he was 'discovering' north America, indeed he had not. Many before him had came, but when one pictures him, he seems very much alone with his crew, not with the boundless European fisherman (Basque in particular) who actually were there in the background.

It makes me think of a Monty Python Quote, when King Arthur rides by, on his invisible horse,  peasant No1 remarks to Peasent No 2.:

"Who's that?" No1
"Must be a king." No2
"Why?" No 1
"He hasn't got shit all over him."

And so Jacque Cartier stands pristine over the Canadian collective memory of its history, rather than as a man moved along by the backs of others. Cartier himself comments on the 1000 fishing boats of Basque fishermen he had to go through to get to this 'new land'.

It’s a good book. Anyone who enjoys Socio-economic history based around trade and individual objects (especially animals) and their impact on how human history developed, read this book.

I am unfinished and plan on finally approaching Salt after this.

Someone has moooved in.

On Shame of Music

I am very proud of my musical taste. I love my folk, I adore the classical, the blues and the early rock that has entered my life. The modern theme music is fantastic.

But the Music that gives me the biggest smile is Metal. 

Metal in all its branches, of course. I've said it before, that it pumps me full of life, gives me energy and very often lifts me out of dark places. Often, I measure songs in weight. Metal at its lightests can be Motley Crew, AC/DC, and even good old Maiden. At its heaviest, you have bands like Arch Enemy, Insomnium and In Flames. 

And these guys are tame compared to the Black Metal out there. 

In the place I work, the radio is played. It plays the same select pop, endlessly, occasionally taking time to add one fresh track in to spice it up before it to us ground into powder. Snortable nostalgia I suppose, the the heady days of one's prom, party, or both. 

To hear the same jangly music over and over again, especially when good rock is laced between is heart breaking for those who genuinely love music. 

Of course I could be being dramatic but music is art. This station takes those songs meant to be Mona Lisa and turns them into a shitty punch line or a tired meme. Bereft of meaning, they take on the skin of something so much less. 

Thus I started bringing my own tunes in. I was careful to look over my library carefully. Being a fan of metal, one is very aware that not everyone likes that music. So I thin it out. Instead, I leave sprinkled a select few songs. Again, nothing heavier than AC/DC is really. Around it I wrap folk, pop, blues and classical. Verity. 

Alas, it was not received so well. Or as well as I would have hoped.

Why did I feel so ashamed? Stuttering that it was an accident, trying to justify and constantly seeking self assurance that I was okay, that the sound was okay., this change, this difference was okay. 

Such is life. Everyone has their own tastes. It saddens me, that not everyone one will reach out beyond the window before them for the picture that may lay beyond its frames. Taste something different, read something that strikes them where they stand and gives them thought to wonder upon the life they have been living. 

Such is life...

Perhaps

I've finished my catalogue. The Canadian side of it. Four hundred books. Not bad for a more casual collector. When I head over to Scotland, I'll do a follow up. Names, titles, publication, special notice. Whether or not it's been read.  

I've been listening to Hello Internet, a podcast staring CGP Grey and Brady Haran.

Here's some shots of what it looks like.

This evening I'm watching, at long last Stranger Things. Its gonna turn into a binge. I can feel it.

Ooooo its good. The soundtrack alone is the greatest.

I'm writing. Now. Reliably. I have a little story in the pipes. A young priest, woefully ignorant of the world  and a brother turned guardian of two siblings. There's a small amount of supernatural about it. A fractured family. A do good, suddenly lost in a world, climbing out and trying to find his place, all the while with a secret.

I hope it turns out alright. I've worked with these characters before. I'm hoping they rise up from my mind, like they've been trying to do for so damn long. 

I'll keep updating this. 

Bluh

It has been an overwhelming last few days. 

Plans have changed so fast that I'm getting whiplash. Moving, not moving. Mortgage or no mortgage. and other more personal crisis that I really can't get into. 

I've driven my standard car into town for the first few times. Its very much terrifying but I'm getting used to it. 

Been reading some writing books the last few days and working on a wee story in my mind. I'm hoping in produces fruit. There are some courses

One of the hardest things in all of this has been the distance. This person is my soul mate, the other half of my story. Not just a chapter. 

Yet he is so far away. So our means of communication feel so few. They are wonderful when they're used and terrible when they fail. I am strangled, in those moments. I can be nothing. Not wife or partner. Not lover. Not ear. Not shoulder. Nothing. 

So careful patience, thoughtfulness and a burgeoning mindfulness to emotional needs.

But the next day is different and the relationship built almost entirely upon patience and communication should be mighty. 

I've got a story in the pipes about life. 

What? Life?! How origional Kelsey! Do tell us more!

No! I'm to unsure of it right now, but I'm injecting it with some of the unhappiness in me right now.

Unrelated. I've introduced my mother to Cavin and Hobbs and I can hear her laughing away in her bed room.