the easiest one so far if you’ve done a bit of physics sometime in the last decade. The experiment that resulted in the above hand sketched pattern (they didn’t have MSPaint back in those days) effectively ended the biggest argument in physics at the time. As usual, once you’ve had a guess you can check out what the image means right about here, or there’s a YouTube explanation here.
![Beautiful Belly (II) [DSCF9720b]](http://farm1.static.flickr.com/46/151474296_75910a1814_m.jpg)
photo credit: portfolium
today’s post I would like to explain how I get the lovely images like the one you can see just above these words. I use a Wordpress plugin called ‘Photo Dropper’ that searches Flickr exclusively for CC licensed images. For each post I think of a word that generally describes what I’m talking about and then search for the ‘most interesting’ picture that uses that word as a tag. That word also becomes the name of each post. So now you can play a game along with each post, by trying to guess how the photographer tied the word to the image. In this one I’d say it’s because a baby is inevitably tied to a plan, whether that plan is meticulously penned in Copperplate Gothic, or smudged off by alcohol.
Right, onto the point (or at least the approximate area) of the post, which is the planning stage of creative writing. It’s more of a question than anything else, since the use of any technique in the creative arts is likely to be a personal preference. So my questions are as follows:
I’ll respond in the comments, and I hope you do too! (:
this on Monday, but better late than never. This is actually five different images, all of the same instrument. Apologies for the crap quality, but you should still be able to guess what they are. You may even have used one of them recently, who knows? Here’s the only hint I’ll give: Galileo Galilei is thought to have been involved in its development, but not its invention. When you think you have the answer, click here to see if you were right and learn a bit about where they came from (and how science tends to work).
![Glimpse of the Ship ['Endurance'] through Hummocks, 1915 / photographed by Frank Hurley](http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2450/3535447612_086eaf5459_m.jpg)
photo credit: State Library of New South Wales collection
forever since I’ve spent an appreciable amount of time on a book. Tim Winton’s ‘Dirt Music’ is sitting on my computer desk at home, and ‘The Language Instinct’ is looking at my forlornly on my bedside table. Right, promise to self: finish at least one of them by July and report it here.
To be honest with myself the reason I haven’t read so much lately is due mainly to my latent video game addiction and its ability to suck away hours at a time. It’s sad, I know, but thankfully it’s mostly been single player games; I’ve been cured of the MMO disease for quite some time now and don’t feel any strong feelings in its direction. So far I’ve clocked (or very nearly clocked) Red Faction: Guerilla, Prototype, Braid, and Plants Vs. Zombies. I think that’ll do me for the moment; the current crop of releases don’t interest me very much, and my DS is broken so I’ll have to put off the investigation of this shining example of psychotic genius ’til another day.
But to be fair, many video games these days are offering at least some semblence of a story to go with their gameplay. Whether its a force-fed unfolding of conspiracy events as in Prototype, a touching fairytale that transcends the genre it takes place in as in Braid, or the occasional humorous note left by those out to get your brains as in Plants Vs. Zombies games are without a doubt capable of delivering a storyline deep enough to get involved in. However, it has to be said that the main reason I play video games isn’t the compelling storylines. Rather it’s the fact that after a long day of staring at molecules and navigating text-only command line interfaces, I want to switch my brain to cruise control. And video games certainly help with that.
Then again, I’ve also begun tentatively picking through the remains of my oft-started, never-finished novel (which I prefer to refer to as ‘the long story’, since I’m not actually convinced it’ll end up being of novel length). I was very much relieved today when I read this article by John Scalzi and the contained quote:
“Most first novels are no damn good. Second ones are often better, but not always, and often not by much. Third and fourth novels, the same thing. Fact is — and this should not be news at this late date — ask most debut novelists how many novels they wrote before they got one published, and you’ll find out the answer is: two, three, four — sometimes more. Debut novels are almost never first novels; it’s just the first novel you see. And all those other novels you will never know about? They took lots of time to write, too.”
Which made me feel much better, since I am only 23 and this is my first novel long story and it doesn’t matter if it’s crap because it’s highly likely that the only people to see it will be my girlfriend and a variety of paper bins. Barring Stephanie Meyer syndrome, there’s no pressure for me to have a best-seller in the works already. So I can take my time and enjoy it. You are probably thinking that I should be enjoying it anyway, and I would reply straight out to that that there is nothing in this world I like more than creating characters and expressing ideas and building meaning into words. It’s just that sometimes I get distracted by my own perfectionism. And while I still won’t let up on myself and trying to get the first draft done by January 2010, I won’t get too upset if I only make it half-way, or if it turns out a turd.
I had planned to tell you all about how I’ve started writing my thesis and how it’s like trying to draw blood out of a crystal of titanium dioxide, but then I realised how boring that would be. Instead, here’s a few questions that are semi-related to this post: How do you relax at the end of the working day? Or can you even relax? Do you take your job home, or can you leave it at the door? Would you like to?
automatic content generation I’m afraid. At the end of every (working) week I propose to list the top three songs I’ve listened to for that week and explain why I have that artist on my hard-drive and why I felt like I needed to listen to their song. So here we go:
Justice — D.A.N.C.E. :
This week hasn’t been that fantastic for me. I’ve had a lot of setbacks and a general malaise concerning the future of my research. Not only are Justice one of the few bands to interest me in dance music, they just make it so damn fun with this song. Crank it on any night when you need a pick me up; guaranteed party starter.
Elbow — Grounds for Divorce :
Got stuck in my head from a chance hearing on the JJJs and then I had to listen to the whole album a few times. I first heard Elbow on a flight on the way back from London. I was delirious and sick and it was due in most part to these guys that I had the most awful dreams I’ve ever had on an aeroplane. Which is a bit strange considering the harmlessness of most of the songs and their lyrics. Still, they didn’t win the Mercury prize for nothing, absolutely stellar song and album (Seldom Seen Kid).
Opeth — Lotus Eater :
Grabs you from the moment the drums start up and Akerfelt informs the listener that ‘Liquid is in your throat’. Very intense, very screwed up song that is a perfect example of some of the best that Opeth can do. Watershed is my album of choice if you’d like to get into the band, then work backwards through their catalogue.
Until next week! (:
photo credit: Don Fulano
like none of you enjoyed Monday’s post, or at least, you didn’t feel like exclaiming about the amazing inventiveness of our past crystallographers. Too bad, since I think I’ll keep that practise going; it’s fun for me to try and find cool old science experiment photos, the posts are incidental.
A few events to report, before I tunnel back into my atomic den to hibernate for the day hours:
Louise and I have settled into a pretty good routine with each other at night. The study room, our study room, has completed its evolution to being Louise’s private den and that’s fine. It means she has a place to transcribe her strange sigils while I sit out at the lounge desk and try and revive my writing hobby in the face of infinite distraction. Thankfully she’s managed to grab a part time job back at her old work while looking for a proper-like architecture position. It’ll happen, but in the meantime the financial security is reassuring.
That’s about enough of an update for now. And now it’s past nine o’clock so I can head into the wonderful PLE to order my Mum a barebones PC so that she can get back onto the Intarwebs. Later taters.
maintaining some regular features at this blog, I’m going to try out a new series of posts. Every Monday I will post an image from science and ask participants to try and identify what the image is before clicking on the link below it to discover the answer and hopefully learn something new. You can see today’s featured image above. There’s a very slight clue in the name of the image (first.gif), but if you want the full answer you can click right here to find out, and then here or here to find out more about the technique. It still blows me away to see the kind of apparatus pioneers of the field used, and how far we’ve come.
photo credit: ArneCoomans
aren’t aware, is one of the three channels on public access (and, in my humble opinion, paid access) television worth watching. This is proved again, and again, and again by the quality programs that they bring to the living room. I was recently confirmed again in this belief by the excellent documentary ‘Wide Awake’ written, directed, and starring Alan Berliner; a director by trade and a life-long insomniac.
Berliner’s story is an interesting one. Ever since childhood he has been an insomniac, but as with many childhood conditions, he believed it to be normal. It wasn’t until his affliction began to take a toll on his working life that he started to take control of it. His method of doing so was to start going to bed later and later, eventually throwing his body-clock completely out of phase with the rest of the world’s. This would be interesting enough situation to see on film; a director directing himself as the main character in an exploration of the processes of the creative mind that only comes out in the night time. But Berliner has taken it one step further and placed himself in his natural context, including family members and the incoming arrival of a baby to examine the influences of family and responsibilities on the ability to function as a creative person.
The end result is a uniquely well-realised glimpse into a way of life that is absolutely fascinating to observe. Berliner doesn’t revile his condition, he revels in it. He lives for the moments when the whole world is sleeping and he can get on with his work. I really enjoyed the sections of the film that explained this love; like a million other Physics students, I’ve had my share of late night study sessions. It’s a powerful feeling, to be to all intents and purposes the only person who is aware and thinking in your environment. Aside from academic work, some of my best creative writing has come in the early hours of the morning when my brain simply cannot shut down.
It’s a very interestingly presented story, and a touching one through the introduction of family that simultaneously cares for Alan and loves to hate the inconvenience of his condition. He also takes every opportunity to make fun of himself, a very refreshing thing coming from an American. You can watch a preview of the documentary here.
about laying down fourteen or so remote mines on the integral supports of a structure and then pressing the ‘B-for-boom’ button. And that’s a very fortunate thing, since the act of destroying buildings in a wide spectrum of thought-out and frantic ways is the main gameplay mechanic in Red Faction: Guerilla. The way that the building sways gently under the initial shock wave, then comes tearing down as metal bends and glass shatters appeals directly to my physics background, as well as being a mechanic that encourages the kind of gleeful holyshitlookwhatIdid giggling that has been missing in most of the single-player games I’ve played since Burnout 3. If you like blowing shit up, then the equation for your next car trip is simple: shopping centre – $100 = RF:G + hours of entertainment.
Of course as in all video games there is a glass ceiling of meaningful statistics to assign to various industry-standard attributes. In RF:G’s case, while it rolled a strong 8 in Gameplay, it sucked out on the Story and Voiceacting stats, a mere 2 and 3 in each. The wunderkind engineer that fixes up all the new weapons you use to do the aforementioned blowing of shit up is the most offensive. Or should I say ‘aww-fensive’, as she’s somehow developed a very bloody posh British accent despite being a self-confessed Mars-born baby. Unfortunately she acts as a gateway between your character’s initial measley remote charges and assault rifle and the thermo-friggin’-nuclear rocket launcher and quantum singularity charges that you receive later in the game. So you’ll have to excuse her, or be prepared with the mute button everytime you approach her workbench.
The feel of an open world is maintained to relative success, with changes to the environment (read: great big holes where buildings used to be) persisting throughout the game. As you complete objectives and liberate the downtrodden Martians you will gain more and more ground support, which leads to objectives becoming easier to complete. Abuse that gift by letting citizens die and you’ll find yourself alone versus an army of special forces quite intent on ripping you limb from limb with the power of bullets alone. The AI is actually quite tough and your character can die quickly when out-positioned, so if you don’t use your environment effectively for cover and large-scale destruction, you’re in for a lot of replays.
Not that it matters much. Between rigging a suicide death truck with ten remote charges and watching it roll up to a guard post to detonate, engaging a mechanical walker complete with jetpack to run through building, and deconstructing enemies atom by atom with the nano death-ray (which I take special privilege to LOL at given my degree in nanotech), you’re not going to care if you have to replay the occasional mission. It’s a solid game with a distinguishing mechanic that pushes it beyond a generic idea to something that is genuinely enjoyable to play. I’ve yet to really push at multiplayer but I’m assured it’s a blast. Ho ho. Four out of five compromises of structural integrity from me.
photo credit: ecstaticist
the destination of choice last night. Or perhaps not choice, but predetermination–I’d apparently* gone in to buy a few tickets to go see ‘The Seed’, a play written and starring Kate Mulvany, herself billed as very much an up-and-comer. If I’m anyone to judge, that billing is well deserved.
The Seed is set in a single room in Nottingham, where a Vietnam veteran father and his grown-up daughter are visiting a traditional, staunchly IRA-supporting grandfather that she has never met for his birthday (which also happens to be the father’s and the daughter’s birthday as well). What ensues is an exposition of wars fought and scars earned and lies told. That last sentence may come across as dismissive but believe me it’s not; I just don’t want to spoil any surprises for you when you go and see it after buying tickets right now.
The script is tight for most of the way, the latter half gets a bit preachy about a subject which is obviously dear to the writer’s heart, but it’s forgiveable. For the curious, that subject is the incidental use of Agent Orange on Australian soldiers in the Vietnam war and the Australian government’s refusal to acknowledge it as having a link to the thousands of birth defects and cancers it has been proven to cause. At the very least the audience will walk away with a greater appreciation of the effects that chemical warfare has.
The writing is actually quite humorous, mainly because of the dark eccentricity of the grandfather, though if you object to profanities you might find the prevailing language a bit hard to swallow. I, being the open-minded, curse-loving person that I am, grinned a lot during the snappy dialogue. The acting was very good for the most part, although there were some delayed lines (that didn’t seem deliberate), but nothing that detracted from the overall performance (and I’m an over analytical watcher, so I might be making guesses at that).
Anyway, for those of you who are starved for some Culture (i.e. if you’re like me and view a night at the theatre as Culture with a capital see), The Seed is a natural choice for some quality theatre. Do yourself a favour and hit up BOCS for tickets. It’s running 2-6th of June at the Playhouse theatre in Perth. Look around for other dates in Aus.
* One day I’m going to remember an event that I’ve said I’m going to, and on that day DnD sets will be sold in Gucci.
