Category Archives: Creative Writing
Author’s Note: I wrote this as an assignment for a World Literature class in high school. My reason to revisit it now are two-fold: 1) I’ve been on a King Arthur kick as of late since reading The Sword In The Stone and 2) It’s 0130 and I haven’t come up with much today on my day off. Thoughts and comments are appreciated.
Lo! Behold and look upon
Ye Squires and Masters abound,
‘Tis the brand Excalibur
Stricken to this holy ground.
The Lady of the Lake
Doth charge upon my brow,
To seek upon King Arthur’s face
Into the here and now.
I must seek to recreate
The noble knights of lore,
To strike down evil menacing
Upon a new-found shore.
Upon a cable steed we ride
In armour made of light,
We do it all but for one cause:
To conquer Might with Right.
Oh, the days of lore are gone
We know this all be true,
But Excalibur is the legacy
And this, I impart on you.
So, Drake, Hammy, and I–on a lark–started a new podcast last night. Entitled Afterburn, so far it’s a humorous look at aviation news while we rant about various topics and whatever happens to come to mind. Think Top Gear meets Diggnation but about planes and helicopters instead of cars.
I came to an all-too-important realization today while I was trying to write up bios for each of us, and that was that I should always do my word processing in a local file before typing directly into a browser window. Yes, internet common sense, I know, but I was running on some 3 hours of sleep, nursing a hangover, and fueled more by mania than anything else. That being said, I’m typing into a TextEdit window now before I do all the nifty formatting things in the WordPress publisher.
I’ve been on a little bit of a creative kick as of late–doing various projects that seem to satisfy that little creative spark I get every so often. Sketchuary, I guess, was a warm-up. For those of you who don’t know, I tried to start the Sketchuary project of a sketch a day for all of February. I made it about seven days, then promptly lost any time and energy I had set aside for it as the production of Anna In The Tropics drew ever-closer. I tried to catch up while on vacation in California (mainly by sitting in the relative comfort of Disney California Adventure’s Animation Workshop and being taught how to sketch various characters), but still only managed another three or four sketches.
Needless to say, this blog post is coming out of this creative mania. I have a few artsy projects lined up, and a few completed. I’ve already done a few frame jobs, and I have a couple of collages to do (one of Las Vegas souvenirs, another of Tron stuff from DCA, and yet more of squadron patches I got tired of keeping locked away in my firebox). I’m seriously considering more podcasty things to do, but I think the blog is pretty effective right now. Maybe if I get more interesting posts, I’ll be able to attract some followers?
I know I keep saying “expect more,” and rarely deliver; I’ll refrain from that this time, and simply say that I’m excited to stay busy with more creative projects–maybe my natural zest for showmanship will fuel a desire to keep showing off even the most inane things.
Meanwhile, keep an eye open for Twitter posts and feel free to browse my plethora of diversions scattered about to the four winds:
Another bit written by Chris, posted for posterity.
Born unto Bavarian aristocracy, Armand Lestat Clovis grew up privelidged, but lonely. He hated the constant aloofness and arrogance his position demanded. A constant, building resentment of stereotypes and mass popular society started at a very early age. His parents were always the life of every party they hosted, which was almost a daily event. Armand hated this. He despised the shallow, champagne-sipping, conformist persons his parents were involved with. He was the complete opposite of his parents. They, the rich aristocracy, and always willing to rub that fact in. Armand, an intellectual realist and philosopher, who would rather be poor and happy. To his parents dismay and anger, he would spend their parties alone reading or writing. Always the quiet loner, he relished playing tricks on his parents’ guests. After an incident involving crossed wiring and a few other gizmos he rigged together under the punchbowl, Armand’s parents decided they had been subjected to enough misbehaviour and sent him to boarding school in England.
Ecstatic to be so far removed from his parents, Armand turned out to be quite the bright pupil, thus was allowed a leave of absence on the weekends. Of course, Armand never quite made it back to the family castle–he spent his time around Picadilly Square in nearby London, in the arcades, or in the used bookstores. He also fell in with the underground movements and styles, and this soon melded his eccentric, more romantic realist than anything else, personal styles and ways. He was soon an ecclectic mix of punk, goth, and Thoreau-styled philosopher/intellectual. This soon led way to an educational but illiegal habit with some friends, stealing books. This small band was soon known as only the 451ers, after Ray Bradbery’s book, Fahrenheit 451.
During a stint in one of these old hang-outs, Armand happened upon the manager who was about to dispose of an odd-looking game machine. Armand asked the manager if he could look at the machine. Thus, Armand had his first real practical application of electronics: he restored an original Space Invaders cabinet to perfect working order. It was about this time that Armand also met an interseting individual–a sort of Zen Pinball Master. A combination of Confucius and The Who’s “Tommy.” He taught Armand much about life and devulged all of his wisdom to the teenager. Around this time Clovis “aquired” a used copy of J.D. Salinger’s “Catcher in the Rye”, and soon aquired the nickname of Holden from the many similarities between the main character, Holden Caulfield, and himself.
After going on Holiday in the spring, Armand and his roommate, James, the remiss son of the CEO of the British Broadcasting Corporation, pooled their combined intelligences and built a small radio station able to be received throughout the campus and surrounding hamlet. This illiegal station, and the busting of the 451ers, soon got Armand arrested. He was allowed to keep his rather large liberary due to lack of evidence, and his portion of the equipment of the station. Consequently, Armand was returned to Germany, but disowned by his socialite parents.
Having nowhere else to go, Armand, now eighteen, sold the station parts to James, and a few books, and bought a bus fare to the recruiter’s office. He quickly enlisted into the newly-formed U.N. Spacy where he went through basic training, then to radio school, and finally to pilot school. Around this time, Clovis had a short but monumetal relationship with a blind date, Moira, set up by an old friend from basic training. Upon recieving his wings,
Corporal Clovis was assigned to the 12th Veritech Tactical Attack Squadron, Galaga Squadron, on board the SDF-1. Soon after assignment, Moira ended the relationship and Clovis seemed to lose his mind in the following weeks. Proving to be an excellent pilot despite his glasses, he rose through the ranks quickly and was soon a staff seargent. He was then assigned corporal Kellen Rand as wingman. Soon the team was known for their bravery and ferocity. Rand was quickly promoted to lieutenant and reassigned to the 42nd VTAS, Angst Squadron. Earth Defense high command soon transferred Clovis as well, fearing
repercussions from splitting up the infamous team.
Okay, Chris actually wrote this, I’m just posting it for posterity.
7 Okt. 2014
There’s just some days I wonder why we go on. There’s nothing in this portion of space. Our patrols have been uneventful for weeks, but I doubt the Zentraedi have abandoned this sector. They logically couldn’t have, it being a major space armada attack force route. They may be massing somewhere for a large scale attack, and this has make some of the squadron more nervous than usual. Or more drunk than usual, whichever the case may be….. Our last major combat gave us all a strategy. But its been so long since then, and we’ve had enough time to refine this strategy, but it may be at the point of refining that the strategy as been refined almost to the point of corruption by over-refining. This situation is quite similar to a situation we had back in Galaga squadron. Our CO had refined his and our strategies so precisely that they worked too well, thus resulting in in five dead Spacy pilots. Lt. Cmdr. J. Peters, our CO, was among that count. These deaths were not in vein, however. Since it was of the first deep space skirmishes, the intel we managed to bring back, along with our internal gun camera footage, aided the U.N.S. in formulation and teaching of advanced combat techniques that exploited the Zentraedi weaknesses. It was after this battle I was promoted, and assigned Rand as wingman. Thus, a premonition of things to come, being Angst. But is it also a premonition of history repeating itself, and imminent disaster approaching? Time will only tell. But the constant ‘what ifs’ that really punctuate the slowness of time passing.