So it's still January, which means I am still able, legally speaking, to make a top ten list for last year.
The problem is that I didn't buy, do, make, watch or play ten things last year.
Because of that I'll have to rank everything together. That's why none of this makes sense.
10.
The Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra
My school offers free tickets to the philharmonic for some reason (you're practically losing money if you don't take them!) so I was able to see one of their performances last year.
Despite not knowing a damned thing about music, I enjoyed it. I have no idea what was played or who was playing it, but there's something great about listening to live music in a concert hall.
9.
Marmite
This year I didn't get as much marmite in the mail as I have in past years. This led me to rationing it out, but also using it in as many different places as possible to avoid just toasting it all away.
It turns out you can use marmite in almost anything. Truly the most versatile condiment.
8.
Pineapples
2018 was the year that I learned you can take the top off a normal pineapple and grow it into a brand new pineapple.
It takes about 4 years for them to grow big enough to bear fruit, but the ones I have now have rooted, are growing (albeit slowly) and will hopefully survive the Winter.
7.
Chocolate
Chocolate is great.
6.
Tea
I've been drinking way more tea this year. It's very good. Much better than coffee, although about once every three months I will partake of the devils bean.
5.
Japanese
I hate Japanese. It is the worst language ever, will never ever make sense and I doubt I will ever really understand much of anything.
But being able to sometimes (15% of the time) read an ad on the underground is sometimes cool. I've also spent almost all my 2018 free time trying to learn. Every time I think I'm progressing I come across something that may as well be written in windings for all the sense it makes. When I come across something too advanced for me I have to confirm that it is, in fact, written in Japanese.
4.
A bedside table I made
We needed somewhere to put all our crap (phones, chargers, etc) so I made a bedside table. I'm not going to take a picture and put it here because I'm not going to take a picture of my bedroom and upload it to the internet. That's just weird.
3.
HSBC
I've not been able to buy anything online for 9 months because HSBC fraud protection stops me buying anything online, from a Japanese IP address, with a UK card.
Wankers.
The entire point of the internet is to be free and open, available to anyone, anywhere. It's pretty easy to spot fraud - if I was buying 5,000USD worth of google play cards with an american card and having them delivered to Russia or China, that's a fraudster doing fraud stuff.
If I'm buying 15 quids worth of cider with a UK card and shipping it to Japan, TO AN ADDRESS THAT'S ATTACHED TO THE CARD AND IS KNOWN TO THE BANK, that's not fraud.
Not difficult guys, come on.
2.
Jurassic World Evolution
One of my friends worked on this game, so I like it. You can also watch dinosaurs eat people, which is always pretty fun.
If HSBC ever pull their heads out of their collective asses, I'll even buy it.
Fuck you HSBC.
1.
Fishing
I've had very little time to go out and do fun things this year. I've read very few books, taken very few photographs, made very few things.
I've been fishing a few times though, and even caught a few fish. Fishing is fun.
So now the year has been listed and categorised appropriately, here are some aims for the upcoming year that is almost 1/12th finished already.
1. Get a job
2. Save money
Far future (never going to happen):
1. Get a cat
2. Get a fishtank
3. Get a study to put the cat and fishtank in
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
Saturday, 19 January 2019
Thursday, 16 March 2017
Neuromancer
So Neuromancer is one of those books that I've always promised myself that I will read, but never managed to get round to it.
For whatever reason I sat down with it over the past few days.
It's one of the first books to approach cyberpunk and is the defacto standard upon which all other dystopian future books and movies are judged. I say this knowing that certain other works, like bladerunner, came before it, and were an obvious influence on the aesthetic, dialogue, even the names used throughout.
In short, this book is spectacular. I don't necessarily mean that in the literal sense of being a spectacle to behold, moreso the hyperbolic sense of being something truly unique. It may be that I am pre-disposed to liking anything in this setting, which may or may not be true, but the story works on a personal level that is exemplified by a single line of dialogue at the very end of the book. A fundamental nature of existence is revealed to one of the protagonists that fundamentally alters the outlook of their universe - yet I could care less because it doesn't directly involve the characters that I have followed from start to finish. I care more deeply about the people than the very nature of existence for something that is not human.
It is often said that the root of a good story is good characterisation, and this is why something like Robinson Crusoe divides opinion (is the island a character or not, and if so, is that appealing to the reader?) whereas something like the Titanic movie does not (it's a universal love story that happens to be set upon a famous boat and is either liked or loathed without having to delve into why). Whether you enjoy these stories is irrelevant because the central theme of the knowably human is evident throughout Titanic, but more difficult to find in Crusoe.
Cyber Punk is often accused of being an excuse to set a scene. To have worldbuilding overtake the character and assume life as Defoe managed (I think) to do two hundred years ago. I think this is to criminally undersell the value of world versus character, but it is a complaint I have seen time and time again with everything from music to painting to dance. How can I relate to the work. How can I understand what is being said through it.
Neuromancer understands people. It is a book written by someone who sees a world through the eyes of a character as opposed to showing you the character acting within a world.
I don't know if anyone reading this will have a mechanically altered pancreas that filters out drugs, or mechanical eyes, or the ability to telepathically alter the world around them, but these characters are as human as anything you will see in any other fiction.
That the science behind their augmentations allow them to interact in such a way is testament to the abilities of characters to work within the genre, and is something many authors have failed to replicate. Why care about a world, when everyone is a crudely drawn archetype?
In this way I think Neuromancer is the perfect gateway drug. It starts with a now infamous line, carries a story through locations that are as real as any documentary, and ends with a bomb that left me feeling hollow. The kind of hollow that drops the gut and reminds us of the power of great literature. Stories take on the experiences of the reader through a myriad of twists and turns that remind us of our past, our feelings and, fundamentally, of who we are. Whether it has the same effect upon you as it did me can only be discovered through reading, so get to it. It's available freely online with a quick google search or here, and isn't so long as to be overbearing.
Neuromancer is the high watermark for fiction of this genre and is a classic in any.
For whatever reason I sat down with it over the past few days.
It's one of the first books to approach cyberpunk and is the defacto standard upon which all other dystopian future books and movies are judged. I say this knowing that certain other works, like bladerunner, came before it, and were an obvious influence on the aesthetic, dialogue, even the names used throughout.
In short, this book is spectacular. I don't necessarily mean that in the literal sense of being a spectacle to behold, moreso the hyperbolic sense of being something truly unique. It may be that I am pre-disposed to liking anything in this setting, which may or may not be true, but the story works on a personal level that is exemplified by a single line of dialogue at the very end of the book. A fundamental nature of existence is revealed to one of the protagonists that fundamentally alters the outlook of their universe - yet I could care less because it doesn't directly involve the characters that I have followed from start to finish. I care more deeply about the people than the very nature of existence for something that is not human.
It is often said that the root of a good story is good characterisation, and this is why something like Robinson Crusoe divides opinion (is the island a character or not, and if so, is that appealing to the reader?) whereas something like the Titanic movie does not (it's a universal love story that happens to be set upon a famous boat and is either liked or loathed without having to delve into why). Whether you enjoy these stories is irrelevant because the central theme of the knowably human is evident throughout Titanic, but more difficult to find in Crusoe.
Cyber Punk is often accused of being an excuse to set a scene. To have worldbuilding overtake the character and assume life as Defoe managed (I think) to do two hundred years ago. I think this is to criminally undersell the value of world versus character, but it is a complaint I have seen time and time again with everything from music to painting to dance. How can I relate to the work. How can I understand what is being said through it.
Neuromancer understands people. It is a book written by someone who sees a world through the eyes of a character as opposed to showing you the character acting within a world.
I don't know if anyone reading this will have a mechanically altered pancreas that filters out drugs, or mechanical eyes, or the ability to telepathically alter the world around them, but these characters are as human as anything you will see in any other fiction.
That the science behind their augmentations allow them to interact in such a way is testament to the abilities of characters to work within the genre, and is something many authors have failed to replicate. Why care about a world, when everyone is a crudely drawn archetype?
In this way I think Neuromancer is the perfect gateway drug. It starts with a now infamous line, carries a story through locations that are as real as any documentary, and ends with a bomb that left me feeling hollow. The kind of hollow that drops the gut and reminds us of the power of great literature. Stories take on the experiences of the reader through a myriad of twists and turns that remind us of our past, our feelings and, fundamentally, of who we are. Whether it has the same effect upon you as it did me can only be discovered through reading, so get to it. It's available freely online with a quick google search or here, and isn't so long as to be overbearing.
Neuromancer is the high watermark for fiction of this genre and is a classic in any.
Sunday, 27 December 2015
The Outgoing
I can't remember a time when I've written a retrospective post about the prior year, or something looking forwards, so I thought I'd double down on new experiences and try for both.
The logical place to start is back, (not that time has a 'back,' or 'front,' but you know what I mean) so let's start there.
In terms of job, nothing changed. I'm with the same company, doing the same work. The only difference is location. This year I ended up working with a fun group of teachers, so that's a bonus I didn't have last year. I'm working closer to home, which means I'm not waking up at six in the morning, I'm sleeping longer every day which in turn led to me being happier overall. It turns out sleep is pretty important, guys!
I'm still with the same rugby team. I joined last year and there was a noticeable changing of the guard (I say noticeable, I wasn't there the year prior, so I don't have a frame of reference beyond what people have told me) that ensured we had a decent amount of energy going into the season. We staved off any mention of the word relegation, and ended the season with two or three wins (I forget).
This year we were forced to play two relegation playoffs, of which I played one (I was busy for the other and could not play). In all, this year has been incredibly disappointing. Almost all our points were scored through the forwards, our attack had no flow, we made very few opportunities and made hundreds of mistakes. Up to the playoffs I had played four or five games (I also had surgery on my ankle this year, which meant an enforced absence for the first few games) and only scored once. The other wingers on the team had scored once or twice. The fullback scored once. I can't remember any of the centres scoring. We probably scored more points in any two games last year than the whole of this year.
Our defence was not much better. We were disorganised and, frankly, unfit, so we bled points even during the games we won.
On a personal note I made mistakes and struggled to find form. It was difficult coming into a team that was already established, after a personal injury, and I will have to put in a lot of effort next year to retain my position. Try scoring is an important statistic for wingers, and I did not do enough of it. The result was my often coming off the wing and working the inside channels like an extra flanker, not exactly conducive to scoring and also an excellent indication of the dysfunction of our attack.
No individual wins a game of rugby, but I will definitely hold myself to higher standards next year in order to try and drag us upwards, particularly in defence where I will suggest using an aggressive pattern (and of course be rebuffed because I'm a foreigner who doesn't know anything).
It's evident that no one else is going to step up to the plate on the pitch, so I will.
Machismo and bravado aside, this year I started a number of personal projects. The first is a book. I've been writing a sci-fi (yes, I know, hardly an inspired genre choice) novel that's reached the end of alpha testing. That is to say, in literary terms, that I've written a hundred thousand words, and that I need to now beat and wrestle those words into a story.
I've seen people talk about their writing as if they were sculptors, finding a story hidden inside a block of imagination, much like an artist chisels away at wood or stone to find the naked Greek man underneath.
Writing, for me, is more like punching a bear in the gonads. At many points I sat down and fought like a madman, foregoing food and drink (and occasionally sleep) to hammer away at the keys in front of me, thinking I was making headway in felling the beast. Occasionally it would get angry and fight back, knocking me for six and causing me to seriously reconsider the endeavour. During these low points I would peruse the internet and look to others who are writing for the creative outlet (as opposed to those looking for financial gain) and see a literal world of people who are better at it than me. That's always a fairly dispiriting realisation, no matter how times you are forced to reflect on it.
Like punching a bear, this project serves no real purpose. I'm never going to be a professional author (not smart enough), nor am I ever going to be published (no personal connections). Despite being willing to go toe to toe with any number of Carnivora for the chance to have a Dream Job (tm) I'm realistic. Sad face.
As such, I have some modest goals for my book. They are as follows:
Goal the first, sell one hundred copies. This is the big one. The goal that means, in my mind if nothing else, that I'm an author. I will note it on my CV. This, for me, will be the fulfilment of a lifelong dream to 'be an author,' and to 'write a book.' This is a dream I assumed I would target when I was forty and in the midst of a life crisis.
Goal the second, sell ten physical copies of my book. Possibly with signatures.
Let's get down to brass tacks. This is a vanity endeavour driven by ego. The idea that someone might want to read whatever drivel I write, and that I am interesting or important enough for another human being to be entertained, is entirely self indulgent. I am essentially saying that I am cool, and you are not. That I matter in some way. A physical book can last thousands of years and thus secures my legacy as a human of note.
Now that I think about it, maybe I'm having my mid-life crisis early.
Anyway, with the advent of on-demand vanity presses I can sell enormously expensive single copies of the book, instead of bulk buying thousands at a time. My aim is to sell ten physical copies, each of which will count towards my hundred total.
The third, have a real ISBN number. This one is probably the easiest to fulfil, but is likely to be the most expensive. Anyone can purchase an ISBN number, but they're very expensive. If you go through Amazon or other popular self-publishing services, they can give you numbers and bar codes that look like ISBN numbers, but are only recognised by their respective services, so are not true ISBN's at all. Sneaky buggers.
The point of this is to ensure I can take my phone, scan the code, and have it direct to a recognised storefront. Should I ever meet someone who is interested in my book (an unlikely premise, granted) I want to be able to whip out my phone, scan the barcode of the copy I will carry around with me literally everywhere, and have it direct to a storefront with my name on it. Did I mention I have an enormous ego?
Fourthly, I want a pucker cover. I want a cover that is art. I want it to be a self-contained story that is good enough to go toe to toe with the huge publishing houses and their artists. This has potential to be the most expensive aspect of the project, but will almost certainly make or break it. The cover is the first thing you see and most people will judge it thusly. To get my hundred sales this needs to be perfect.
The fifth and the final, I want a review. Not a review from the Times, or an online blog. An amazon review. I want someone to have read it and felt strongly enough to have left a review. I don't care what the content of the review is, I just want one.
Notice how none of these goals have anything to do with the quality of the writing or how it is received. Don't take that to mean I'm assured of my own genius, but rather the opposite. It is not Discworld, nor will I ever be Pratchett.
It is also my first book. The first is always a learning experience. Who knows. Where I will end up in the future? One day I might even be adequate. Now there's a long-term goal.
The rest of my top-secret projects will be revealed at a later date, that's enough writing for one day.
The logical place to start is back, (not that time has a 'back,' or 'front,' but you know what I mean) so let's start there.
In terms of job, nothing changed. I'm with the same company, doing the same work. The only difference is location. This year I ended up working with a fun group of teachers, so that's a bonus I didn't have last year. I'm working closer to home, which means I'm not waking up at six in the morning, I'm sleeping longer every day which in turn led to me being happier overall. It turns out sleep is pretty important, guys!
I'm still with the same rugby team. I joined last year and there was a noticeable changing of the guard (I say noticeable, I wasn't there the year prior, so I don't have a frame of reference beyond what people have told me) that ensured we had a decent amount of energy going into the season. We staved off any mention of the word relegation, and ended the season with two or three wins (I forget).
This year we were forced to play two relegation playoffs, of which I played one (I was busy for the other and could not play). In all, this year has been incredibly disappointing. Almost all our points were scored through the forwards, our attack had no flow, we made very few opportunities and made hundreds of mistakes. Up to the playoffs I had played four or five games (I also had surgery on my ankle this year, which meant an enforced absence for the first few games) and only scored once. The other wingers on the team had scored once or twice. The fullback scored once. I can't remember any of the centres scoring. We probably scored more points in any two games last year than the whole of this year.
Our defence was not much better. We were disorganised and, frankly, unfit, so we bled points even during the games we won.
On a personal note I made mistakes and struggled to find form. It was difficult coming into a team that was already established, after a personal injury, and I will have to put in a lot of effort next year to retain my position. Try scoring is an important statistic for wingers, and I did not do enough of it. The result was my often coming off the wing and working the inside channels like an extra flanker, not exactly conducive to scoring and also an excellent indication of the dysfunction of our attack.
No individual wins a game of rugby, but I will definitely hold myself to higher standards next year in order to try and drag us upwards, particularly in defence where I will suggest using an aggressive pattern (and of course be rebuffed because I'm a foreigner who doesn't know anything).
It's evident that no one else is going to step up to the plate on the pitch, so I will.
Machismo and bravado aside, this year I started a number of personal projects. The first is a book. I've been writing a sci-fi (yes, I know, hardly an inspired genre choice) novel that's reached the end of alpha testing. That is to say, in literary terms, that I've written a hundred thousand words, and that I need to now beat and wrestle those words into a story.
I've seen people talk about their writing as if they were sculptors, finding a story hidden inside a block of imagination, much like an artist chisels away at wood or stone to find the naked Greek man underneath.
Writing, for me, is more like punching a bear in the gonads. At many points I sat down and fought like a madman, foregoing food and drink (and occasionally sleep) to hammer away at the keys in front of me, thinking I was making headway in felling the beast. Occasionally it would get angry and fight back, knocking me for six and causing me to seriously reconsider the endeavour. During these low points I would peruse the internet and look to others who are writing for the creative outlet (as opposed to those looking for financial gain) and see a literal world of people who are better at it than me. That's always a fairly dispiriting realisation, no matter how times you are forced to reflect on it.
Like punching a bear, this project serves no real purpose. I'm never going to be a professional author (not smart enough), nor am I ever going to be published (no personal connections). Despite being willing to go toe to toe with any number of Carnivora for the chance to have a Dream Job (tm) I'm realistic. Sad face.
As such, I have some modest goals for my book. They are as follows:
Goal the first, sell one hundred copies. This is the big one. The goal that means, in my mind if nothing else, that I'm an author. I will note it on my CV. This, for me, will be the fulfilment of a lifelong dream to 'be an author,' and to 'write a book.' This is a dream I assumed I would target when I was forty and in the midst of a life crisis.
Goal the second, sell ten physical copies of my book. Possibly with signatures.
Let's get down to brass tacks. This is a vanity endeavour driven by ego. The idea that someone might want to read whatever drivel I write, and that I am interesting or important enough for another human being to be entertained, is entirely self indulgent. I am essentially saying that I am cool, and you are not. That I matter in some way. A physical book can last thousands of years and thus secures my legacy as a human of note.
Now that I think about it, maybe I'm having my mid-life crisis early.
Anyway, with the advent of on-demand vanity presses I can sell enormously expensive single copies of the book, instead of bulk buying thousands at a time. My aim is to sell ten physical copies, each of which will count towards my hundred total.
The third, have a real ISBN number. This one is probably the easiest to fulfil, but is likely to be the most expensive. Anyone can purchase an ISBN number, but they're very expensive. If you go through Amazon or other popular self-publishing services, they can give you numbers and bar codes that look like ISBN numbers, but are only recognised by their respective services, so are not true ISBN's at all. Sneaky buggers.
The point of this is to ensure I can take my phone, scan the code, and have it direct to a recognised storefront. Should I ever meet someone who is interested in my book (an unlikely premise, granted) I want to be able to whip out my phone, scan the barcode of the copy I will carry around with me literally everywhere, and have it direct to a storefront with my name on it. Did I mention I have an enormous ego?
Fourthly, I want a pucker cover. I want a cover that is art. I want it to be a self-contained story that is good enough to go toe to toe with the huge publishing houses and their artists. This has potential to be the most expensive aspect of the project, but will almost certainly make or break it. The cover is the first thing you see and most people will judge it thusly. To get my hundred sales this needs to be perfect.
The fifth and the final, I want a review. Not a review from the Times, or an online blog. An amazon review. I want someone to have read it and felt strongly enough to have left a review. I don't care what the content of the review is, I just want one.
Notice how none of these goals have anything to do with the quality of the writing or how it is received. Don't take that to mean I'm assured of my own genius, but rather the opposite. It is not Discworld, nor will I ever be Pratchett.
It is also my first book. The first is always a learning experience. Who knows. Where I will end up in the future? One day I might even be adequate. Now there's a long-term goal.
The rest of my top-secret projects will be revealed at a later date, that's enough writing for one day.
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