So, I Need to Focus

Ramblings Post #424
I have been a gamer for forever. But I don't appreciate those PvP things that game development companies have come to adore in recent years, designed to suck you in and basically keep you dropping of a little bit of coin regularly to keep their profits up. I'm a single player game kinda guy. Sell me the game, the whole game and leave me alone. For the record, I've been feeling like the extinction of my kind of gamer has been vastly exaggerated.   

A few months ago, on a humbug, I did something that I don't normally do - I watched online as people played a game I was never going to play myself. For me the only reason to ever really do so was to watch what other people did so you could get past a particularly tricky spot or improve your own play style. I used to joke about people who JUST watched other people play. The idea that it was something in and of itself, like watching any professional sport and just for funsies, sounded weird. But as I said bored, and needed some house noise, I clicked a YouTube channel to watch someone play Project Zomboid. There are like a thousand of those.  

Note - For the record I do not like zombie games. It feels a little like the developer is cheating and instead of developing a true villain, they can just litter a good sized gaming map with hordes of things to shoot. No motivations, no evil schemes, no lair, no character building - just undead things that are always attacking. I don't play PvP either, but at least there your actual live opponent has the motivation of 'win and talk shit.' As a result zombie games feel a bit empty to me. So if it's got zombies, I pass on playing.  

I half suspect my interest in this game because of the map. I love a good map (lightly drools). For those who are unaware, the game is about a Zombies outbreak in Kentucky in the mid-80s. Not New York on Los Angles, but an isometric map view of version of Louisville, Kentucky and about seven or eight surrounding small towns. And the map is very detailed. VERY DETAILED (more drool). Veteran users set up private servers, run modified games, with modified maps and invite other players and run these huge hundred player PvP scenarios. Then they film themselves role playing survivors struggling with things like hunger, depression, illnesses and the abject terror trying to keep it together. 

The in-game map lets you make notes.

The reason for this post is that I recently, accidentally, watched the same game/match three times from three different perspectives due to the setup. In this group match, I watched one player's story of him gathering a group and build a kingdom, co-op style. A few days later another story of a group setting up a hotel, but didn't connect the two. It wasn't until I happened upon the third video of group trying to rebuild civilization that I made the connection, as they showed the same scene from the earlier two videos where the groups all briefly met - in game and in character - to discuss some issues. As a writer, it was absolutely fascinating watching three different players describe the same conversation from their own point of view. It's me with some the framing on the story I'm currently working on. 

How the map you play on looks. 

I wrote all that to say that watching people play a video game I'm never going to play I got to hear the same conversation from different angles, which I feel will help me with my writing. Wow. 

That was kinda depressing, now that I think about it. Yeah, I'ma have to get out more. 

Barkeep. The bowl of peanuts, and another cold beer. I have to think on some things.  

There was supposed to be...

Ramblings Post #422
One of the great tragedies of life is regret. In the looking back upon the road you decided to travel and imagining that another path would have been better. Or in my case, just different. I suffer no illusions that someone other than I am responsible for my circumstances. I made these choices. They weren't always good. But like everyone, I had a vision of how my life was supposed to be. And my mind, my imagination, it plays that life out for me. Not a "better" life, just different. 

PROBABLY NOT HERE. NO BACKYARD

There were supposed to be dinner parties. Yes, dinner parties, and YES, it sounds bougie. Where I would have invited over five or seven people and I would have spent hours on a Sunday cooking for them. Not during football season, of course. And we'd have drink found wines and discussed things of great importance, odd minutiae and inadvertently work through childhood trauma. There would have been light jazz or old unto ancient hip hop playing at a low volume. There would been tense moments and raucous laughter. One weekend I would have declared my house a shoe free zone and forgotten about it a few months later. After dinner, a the back patio or deck we'd have sipped whiskey, smoked cigars and engaged in despicable small talk as we watched the sky darken. Maybe a fire pit or loose lights. I wouldn't want to clean up but would have to, lest the house smell like that dinner for two days. 

I envy what might have been. I have come to envy the mundane.  

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #40
When it's not enough to make a post, but deserves to go out to the world... it's just Bar Chatter.  

It's like the new neighborhood resident thinking it's dumb that the local corner store has a 'No Alligators' sign. 

One of the big check marks of the conservative party is that there are just too many regulations. And that we get rid of them, things will just be better. Not sure why they think that but they do. And our current administration is implementing that with speed. And as a result, I think the only FOOD ITEMS not under recall or contamination watch are hydrogenated cookies, tofu and whiskey. Which for the record is not good thing. And because of how much of our needed information is currently disseminated - conspiracy theory, social media, popular TV character screed, and political operative talking point repetition - a lot of people don't quite understand just how much the U.S. government actually does for them. Er, did for them. Because recalling Garlic Powder is a systemic failure of cartoon like proportions. 

Capitalism doesn't care if you live or die unless it affects the profit margin. And we're supposed to be better than that. 

And for the record, the corner store has a 'No Alligators' sign because Ricky and Earl's Gator Farm and Boat Rental is down the road and Earl will bring The Gen'ral with him to get them two cases of beer he needs to get through the weekend if there ain't no sign. Earl respects signs. And although The Gen'ral has slimmed down as of late, running into an eight hundred pound primal beast while trying to get your scratch-offs and pack of cigs is not experience you want to have more than once. Or ever if you can arrange it.  

Allow Me To Sharpen My Quill

Ramblings Post #421
With age comes wisdom. Or regret. If given the option, I suggest you chose wisdom, as regret is messy and can't easily be fixed. It leaves you pondering What ifs and Could Have Beens. Whereas wisdom could involve a number of things including riches, adventures, great memories, hospital bills, weird scars, limps and the ability to confidently snort when somebody says something you've seen from the wrong end of an extended conversation in a language you don't understand. Don't ask, just accept this wisdom.   

Imagination should feel real. 

So, my brother ran some of my writing through AI and apparently I'm pretty good. I think. Well, maybe. Okay, I'm not completely sure. 

Let me explain. 

I've been writing, mostly for myself, since I was young. I started on the back of old unused ticket books in the back of my father's business and have since graduated to word-processor, although I still for some reason keep my copious notes and ideas on the backs of envelopes and post it notes. It's weird, I am well aware, because I have purchased notebooks to keep my notes in. But there is something about a scribbled note on the back of something. I'll even fold a blank sheet of paper in half to simulate an envelope. I really need to stop that. 

In any case, my brother was evaluating his own writing and constructed a rather elaborate prompt to give himself some feedback. Then I guess as a control, he ran something I sent him - I sent it to see if it held up as a story - and out popped a "review." It was only the first half I think, so it's kinda truncated in its evaluation, but I'm curious.  First, reading through that evaluation did get me to start my next draft, so if that was his plan -- it worked. Second, the output gives me a bit a pause, because reading it and then going back to the actual text I see a few "questionable items" in the critique. Which is odd, because it's the much vaunted AI, and I didn't think it was supposed to make the "errors" that it made. 

The story in question is alternate history fiction set in the 60s. And since our hero is black there should be some tension felt. One of the scenes involves my main character and a new friend bonding over rebuffing a character making racist statements. The AI saw this as giving my character encountering a chance properly address racism, which is true in part. But the scene was mostly to show how this world in which the story differs from our own, referencing several historical changes while avoiding an exposition dump. So, some of what it missed is that nuance, which I would expect it to miss. My issue is that AI confused the location with another setting, as the exposition/confrontation took place chapters before where the AI thought it did. 

Later, one of the supporting cast is encouraged to broaden how they view events by someone who has been in a similar situation. Up until that point, the supporting character had been narrowly focused as a contrast to the main, and I needed something to get there viewpoint to take on the broader scale of the story. The AI read it as a scene where a strong character got unneeded encouragement, undercutting them, not as a headstrong character being enlightened as why her focus was misdirected. It's not as egregious as the first critique, as again it's a nuance that I wouldn't have expected the Machine Learning to catch. And the suggestion I re-write or excise the entire character was troubling. So the AI wasn't quite the reviewer it originally looked to be. 

It also missed what I thought were pretty obvious early red flags for how my villain was shaped. It called them too "likeable" which was the whole point - the character was supposed to be a certain type of charming before the rug pull. So I'm not sure how to take that at all - properly disguised? Hidden so well the Machine couldn't see it? Poorly written? Ugh. 

But..., it did say I had a deft touch for story telling and comedy, as well as some promising talent that needed a good editor. Which I did like (insert schoolgirl giggle here). I appear to be a sucker for flattery. Appearances are not deceiving. In any case, I need my text in hand and printing out the bones of my current draft cost way more than I expected at FedEx this morning, so I need to get my printer fixed or get a new one. And after my morning duties - exercise, breakfast, search, clean - I will shortly be back at authoring. Attempting to author. Writing. 

Barkeep. Ice water. I need to keep my head clear. And three shots of whiskey. I need my imagination hot. 

Good Memories are the stuff of Life

It’s starting to feel like good memories are getting harder to come by.

I watched the NBA Finals with my mom. I'd ridden down to take care of a few things and she sat up with me and watched the whole game, cheering on the Knicks. I was hoping Wemby would show us something, but I chose poorly. She normally calls it a night early, but that night we sat up until morning watching hoops, listening to commentators and talking it up.

I had lunch with Sporty. At a little cafe just north of Grant Park on a breezy afternoon where we just sat and enjoyed each other's company. At least I enjoyed hers, I hope she enjoyed mine. I'm terrified that one day she'll look at me and wonder why she wasted her time. But for now, it was the kind of afternoon that just hung around not wanting it to be over.

Oh, and my knee feels better. It had been a serious concern as the pain seemed to be lingering. My over active imagination had already had it amputated and me sporting a pirate peg, but some judicious heat and a resumption of some degree of exercise has cause the pain and stiffness to start to lessen. Two weeks from now, I'll need a new excuse to avoid those marathons. 

Not a great list. 

This would be the part where I "suggest" you go things, because memories are where you make them, and although my house seems to be where all my stuff, the only memories I'm creating there are related to digital quests - some of which have sat idle for years now. I am going to finish at least one of these video games, I promise this myself. I invested years ago when things were more flush, but now they just wait for the that urge to come back.

Similarly, I'm not really writing right now. Sure, the small one off or the interesting writing prompt from places that provide such, but not the novels, novellas and epic drama type things that still flood my imagination. Don't get me wrong, I still have the ideas and I definitely still jot them down. I have notes on notes, half thought out ideas on sticky pads and envelopes and whatever. But the need to sit down and just craft a complex tale is apparently a passenger in the car my urge to play video games is driving. And neither one wants to ask for directions. Or check their GPS.

Some of this ennui is the politics of the moment. We all knew it would get bad, but not...this. Blatant. Cruel. Silly. And just plain ole' disrespectful to the basic intelligence of the average human. 

Some of it coming to grips with parts of me that I’m just finding out about. I’ve always operated to my problems are my fault, but recently some conversations – about family and my own tricky internal narration, have revealed other quirks, things I couldn’t see about myself. And putting two and forty-seven together, it’s opened my eyes. And some of it is unsettling.  

Some of it is my circumstances, which teeter back and forth between hope and the unease of uncertainty. We all exist in a state of uncertainty, but lately it's been different. And as an overthinker, calculating all the possible bad outcomes - I don't really do good outcomes - has gotten exhausting.

So...what now?

First, I'm gonna have this Red Velvet cupcake. It's my birthday.

Then, as I've said before. Go do something. Life doesn't fix itself; we're not going to get out of wherever the hell this is by sitting still. So do it - whatever it is you've been plotting or putting off. I started an Etsy store. I need to figure out how to stop paying for my Shopify store. You need to go join that run club. Or start walking around your block in the morning. I need to get back to writing the novel stuff. You need to start a cooking vlog. Maybe just cook something new. Or start learning French. Or begin a Lego collection. Or try reading a book a week - even if it's just the self-help ones. Or call your brother, or sister or that auntie that you haven't seen in a minute. I should join a league of some sort. Or start one. Throw out all your expired food. Volunteer for something. Run for office. Learn to play an instrument. Take that certain someone to lunch. But go make those good memories.

Because those memories that soothe the soul are just getting harder and harder to come by.  

These Knees Are No Longer Under Factory Warranty

Ramblings Post #420
You only get the one life. Or so I've been told. We'll never really know, but it just seems odd in the vast universe that this consciousness only exists for a universal second. If that. I hope they're wrong. I just do. I have so much more to do with this scrap of life I've been granted. 

Two weeks ago I feel down some stairs. My leg still hurts. 

Let me back up. A month ago I woke up and as I got out of bed, realized that my leg looked different. Like thinner. Looking back it amazes me that I didn't notice the weight loss. And since the amount is probably around seventy or so pounds, I wonder how that's even possible. 

I've lost weight before - deliberately - but this looks different. This isn't a slimming down, this is entering "are you ok?" level of change. My people know what that means. And I'm not sure I'm really OK. Yes, I did see a doctor, but I need to go back for a follow up. Ugh. And just so you know when you lose this much weight, a lot of things change that you weren't expecting besides just how you look. My eyes changed enough that I need eyeglass prescription. Nothing fits, and that includes underwear with elastic. Your muscle mass changes. And as it turns out, your joints change too, as the cushion that was there dissipates. On the bright side, my blood pressure is down. 

In any case, I started working out in the mornings, early before I do anything else. It's soothing in a way, the almost mechanical rhythm. and it gets me stretched, something else I'm concerned about as I get older. And that day I think I tweaked something. No, I'm not lifting super-heavy weights, just trying to make sure I don't collapse under my own, well, lack of weight. I have a skeletal appearance right now, at least to me. A little more muscle wouldn't hurt.  

Then I went to lunch meeting and leaving said meeting, which went well otherwise, my right knee called a general strike. That put me at the base of some concrete stairs looking foolish. I was later able to hobble the block or so back to my car, but I was determined to take it easy. I mean, it wasn't that bad of a fall. 

Note - I was incorrect. 

So now, I'm emulating my mother, sitting on a stool to cook rather than stand. Actually I'm worse than my mom, as she can stand to wash dishes and I'm dragging that stool around scared to put any weight on it. I discovered I owned a heating pad. That may be one of the greatest inventions of all time. I've come to realize Aspirin is useless. I'm discovering food in my freezer I forgot about to avoid going up and down the porch steps and walking around the grocery store. I need to go down those stairs and find me a knee brace. I've avoided at least two invites for meetups and my favorite monthly (she knows) because I'm a little embarrassed by getting old. Oh, and nothing fits either, but mostly the hobbling thing.

I've got to stop dreaming and start doing. 

Barkeep. Water with lemon. I haven't stopped drinking, but there are some days I need to grow out of.