One Thousand Word Challenge 261: Wrist Straining

Posted on March 21, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Alright I’m gonna knock this one out as I’m far behind and I need to do a good bit of catching up at the moment. If I don’t do that, then I fall further behind and that is not something I want to do.

I think I’ve stumbled upon a bad idea in doing what I’m doing today, but I’m still aiming to get it all done. Still aiming, still should give up, but still aiming. Bad ideas come in good intentions, and bad intentions come in good ideas. It’s how it all goes, but I can get this done. I can get that done, too. A lot of things I can get done, really. Just keep going, aim for the goal. Aim for the prize.

The rain that had fallen is disappearing. It is drying up, and it’s a shame. The sunlight and the rain made for a good combination, I think,. but you don’t always get what you want. Hell, you don’t even get some of what you want, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. Them’s the breaks, and I’m not in the process of breaking things so it’s not something I want to explore too heavily. Or at all, really. There are other, far more important hings that I need to do with my time and now is not the time that I need to do them in.

So where do I go from here? I find myself at a juncture in time and writing where I need to keep going out of pure spite for anything resembling sensible processes, but I don’t have any spite left in me to use to be spiteful about. I do know that I have an immense reservoir of stubbornness and I try to tap into that here and there, but it doesn’t always work. There’s always something pushing against me and there’s only so much against I have to push against with something against the pushing of… yeah.

So… bad ideas. Bad ideas come and go and I have plenty of them. I have one right now, and that idea is an idea that involves continuing this silly endeavour. However, I said to myself that I was going to do it sooner or later and that is what I am doing. Sure, I could be talking about plenty of other things right now. I could be talking about what is happening in the world, but doing so would involve not talking about me and I want to talk about me right now.

I’ll talk about other things later. Right now it’s all mine. All slick, all awesome, all a fool, all me.

And so it all goes on and I keep going. I keep writing crap, or maybe crap is writing me.

What if I am fictional character in someone else’s story? I mean, we all are, depending on how much you want to stretch the definition of fictional here, but we are all fictional characters. We only matter to some stories and not others, and we matter to ourselves, of course. But we are not real.

Well, we are, but you know.

Perhaps this is the moment where I start losing it from all the stress and pressure I’m putting upon myself, and then that’s that. What then? Who cares. Well, I care, but maybe you don’t. Maybe I don’t. Maybe care is not something to be had, but to be given and therefore what I should be asking is who gives a care.

Who gives a care? I certainly don’t. Or I do. I don’t know anymore.

And so with all of that being said, there are only a few more bits and pieces that I need to write and then I am done for the day, and then I can safely say that the day is done and I’m checking out. There’s a big night ahead and plenty of time to be an awful writer than, and I certainly will. It’s how it all goes, anyway. But who is to say that I will remain an awful writer? Maybe after all of this writing is done, I will find that I have become… a tolerable writer.

I wish.

So in this mad dash for the finish line, I find myself wondering if I think any of today has been worth it, and maybe it has. Probably hasn’t, but maybe it has. I think there are better things that I could have done and this idea is definitely not one of them. It’s starting to hurt me a lot, but I persist as I’m a fool and I’m stubborn. At the very least, I know that I’ve had some fun with it all, but fun is not something that should be had all the time. Or something.

There really are far better things that I could be writing right now and this is what I’m going with. This foolishness. This tomfoolery. This waste of time and utter load of crap, but hey, it’s mine and it’s my pile and everyone can take it away from me, and perhaps everyone should. I don’t know. Or I do know. Only one way to find out, really, and that’s to offer all of this to everyone and then go from there.

But I think that now is a good time to stop. Or continue. I am yet to decide. I will still try, however. I will continue on and I’ll keep going, and I’ll make another attempt on another day, and then that will be that.

I think what I’m saying is that I need to rest my wrists and stop doing what I’m doing unless I want further hurt. I don’t want further hurt. I want rest. I want luxury. But we’ll see. Either there will be more stuff today or there won’t. Either way, I’ve put in a really solid effort and I’m at least proud of that, even if most of the writing today was incredibly lacking.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 10:48:00

This one turned out terribly. The main issue with yesterday is that I tried to cram a lot of writing into a very short period of time and it did not work. I ended up hurting my wrist by doing so. Next time I’ll pace myself a bit.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 260: Little Creature

Posted on March 21, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Once upon a time there was a little creature born into a field of darkness. It knew that it existed. It could feel that it existed. However, it did not know what existed around it, for it had eyes but could not see.

It could hear and it could feel, and eventually it learned that it could taste, but it could not see.

This creature, gradually over time gaining energy from sucking away at any growing lichen found covering a surface, shuffled and made its way around, and gradually it learned the small area around it. It learned the feel of cold stone and sharpened stalagmite, growing down, and it knew how to go around certain areas, but it did not know how far it could go and it feared going too far. Sure, it could find its way back, but it didn’t know if it could.

So much of the creature’s directions and navigation was based on understanding objects and proximity, and a little distance away from where it was most familiar, it could go fine. This helped when it came to taking in more food, of course, as things grew at varying rates and to scour one spot would mean that it would not be getting food from it for a long time; a lesson it eventually learned.

Going too far from the familiar, and the space became featureless. The creature could go backward from there, but there was no telling if it would go backward correctly. What if it turned? What if it went in the wrong direction? And turning around didn’t mean it would turn to face the right way, either.

This creature wondered what the organs that had coverings that opened and closed were, and wondered what purpose they served. When not covered, everything was dark. Everything was invisible. There was nothing that they provided. When covered, it was the same. The creature still felt somewhere in there that it was better to keep them open. They never knew. Maybe the organs would do something some day, but there was no telling as to how long it would take to reach that day.

As the creature grew, its food sources were not growing back quickly enough to match its increased consumption, and there came some days where the creatures was finding more hunger within itself. Eventually this would mean that it would have to go further if it were to survive, but it feared. It feared this featureless expanse. It feared going further and getting lost, and never finding a way out. Never being able to return. It feared not knowing what could happen. It did not understand mortality, but it knew that being hungry was not what it desired.

And its food grew more scarce, and its periods of hunger grew longer, and so it found itself no choice but to venture further. One last patch of lichen consumed, and it started making its way to the featureless place.

At the least, the creature knew that a stretch was featureless. It had prodded here and there, and it found itself lucky to be able to come back each time it checked. However, it had never gone the whole way, and it didn’t know how far it went, anyway.

the creatures approached the area, and it set out carefully at first. Carefully and with hesitation, but it needed to find a greater source of food. It needed to find something that could help it survive for a longer period of time. Something that meant that it wouldn’t be spending more and more time seeking out its food. And so it went.

The darkness of everything seemed heavier in this space, though maybe it was due to the unfamiliarity. It proceeded carefully, and picked up its pace gradually, for there was nothing there. It was all flat and smoothed out and, whilst the same stone as everywhere else, absolutely featureless.

The creature walked for so long that it began to wonder as to if it was still on the ground. It knew that it was moving, but it could not tell, for how uniform the space was. It kept going and going, and it went for hours, and perhaps days. Time didn’t seem to matter and the creature knew not any difference anyway.

And the creature grew hungrier and hungrier, and its energy started to dwindle, and it began to slow. All seemed like nothing had changed, and the creature could have been walking in circles for all it knew, and it did not know.

Eventually a crack appeared in the fabric of the darkness, and it was a slither. A small cut, and the creature wasn’t sure what this meant. It saw it and was distracted by it as it walked, and instinctively it turned its head as it walked, its unused organs sensing this thing, and the creature proceeded to walk into an object as it looked at this thing.

Suddenly stopped and suddenly feeling a sense of hesitation it had not felt for a while, the creature’s first choice was to move as far away from this thing as it could, but it did not go with that choice. It’s second was to carefully approach, see what was there.

It approached this change in the reality it knew, and it looked at it from close. It could feel another object near it, and that object quite easily moved, and swung open, and suddenly there was greater detail. This tear became larger as the object moved, and there was so many things visible that the creature had not seen before. The tear surrounded it, but did not swallow it, and the creature noticed that it no longer walked on darkness, and instead stood on something new.

Carefully the creature continued into this new thing, and eventually it found a lichen to eat, and so it ate. And carefully it explored this new space, this new thing, and it left the darkness it knew behind.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 18:22:78

With this one I was thinking of ending it on a grim note. I had ideas of making it sudden, too. These came to me as I was writing, but I decided to not do that. It’s a bit of a slow bit of writing and it’s not great, but I felt the ending that came about works better than going for something a bit heavier.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 259: Approaching the Halfway Point

Posted on March 21, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Alright so now I’m approaching the halfway point of what I’m trying to do, and you may have figured it out already. If not, you’ll see. Or you won’t see. I am yet to work it all out.

What was the last thing I talked about? It was the rain. What is the next thing that I can talk about? Not the rain. Well, I could talk about the rain again but that would serve no purpose. That would be pointless, as they say. But maybe I do want to talk about the rain… but not yet.

When I think about doing what I’m doing now, I think about all the issues that I’m causing. This is a lot to read and talk on and all of that, but I told myself that I would do this and doing it is what I am doing. I can only hope for the best at this point, but I don’t know what the best is. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I should do the next few bits of writing as fiction instead of anything else. One bit of silly story writing is only one bit. I could use a few more. You could use a few more, too. However, this bit of writing is not going to be that as this bit of writing needs to be serious writing. It is the only way ahead, and a head is what I have and so I will make sure my head stays on my neck. If I lose it, then who is truly to blame? Certainly not me, and certainly not the horseless headman.

So anyway, I’m thinking about writing. Again. Surprising I know. I’m thinking about how we write. Why am I even saying this? It is evident.

But really, what drives people to write in a manner similar to the way I write? I’m sure some people do not set out and do things like this, which are incredibly silly and possibly damaging in some way. Stephen King, from what I remember, writes something like five thousand words a day. That is something to admire, I think, but not necessarily something to aspire to. A lot of people approach writing in different ways and whatever works for them works for them. However, I do think it is good to try and write as much as you can at times, even if it is complete nonsense.

The path of improvement requires a lot of work a lot of the time, and I think people don’t realise this. Or maybe they do, but they don;t know where to start. I think the best way to start is by putting pen to paper, or whichever equivalent works best for you. And I think that, at least in my case, the best way to write is to start writing.

A lot of time can be spent just trying to figure out what to write. I don’t think there is a right starting word in a lot of instances. I think that, more often than not, the right sentences come in retrospect, or they just flow out then and there. Of course there are different processes to writing, however, but if someone is having difficulty starting, I tell them to just start writing and get it out of the way and then go from there.

Write whatever. Write what comes naturally. Write what comes to mind first. There are more important things than trying to write something the right way the first time around. It eats up a lot of time trying to do that, and so if you’re at least getting something down, you’re building a better habit of getting started. The more you do that, the easier it can be to write, and perhaps the sooner you get to writing what it is that you wanted to write. That is something to consider, I think, and I also think that it’s worth putting into practice where possible.

Editing is part of the writing process, and I think it’s something that needs to be thought about, too. Editing helps make things better, and it’s often good to have a good editor to work on your work. Someone will be willing to challenge things if they need to be challenged, and who can recommend improvements that help strengthen your work whilst preserving your voice. In some ways I’m lucky (and plenty of others are, too) in being my own editor as I’m quite happy to dig into my own stuff and see if it stands. However, I do think that I’m blind to some of my mistakes, and this is something I always try to work on, but I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get the whole way there. Still, it’s good to try and keep learning.

Writing is a wonderful process, and a hard process, and an easy process. It’s an art and should be respected as such. It’s incredibly versatile, and it’s always good to try and write more where you can. There is so much missed when the written word is not respected or appreciated, and the more you work on it and learn, the more you can better understand what is desired and expressed, and how words are being used and all of those things. It has a long history, and it’s everywhere, really.

I worry about people using content generators to write as they’re cutting themselves out from a skill they can develop. There are some circumstances where using a content generator may provide some benefit, but most of the time it’s better to keep plugging away where you can. To keep writing.

If you have the ability to learn how to write, then you should do what you can, I think. And read, too. You think more about how words are used, and you start using them more effectively, too. It goes a long way, and that work pays off quite a lot, in the end.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:29:23

This post, and the next two, were meant to go up yesterday. I ran out of time as I was meant to be heading off for food and didn’t want to be late, and so I stopped the uploading. Probably a good thing, too.

This is… okay. I think it was pretty clear that I was running out of steam by the time I wrote this. I should have stopped, but I persisted. Oh well. At least something came out of it.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 258: Another Writing About Rain

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Got a nice, steady rain falling at the moment. I like this. It makes me think about things. It makes me think about life. It makes me think about the life that I’ve lived.

Once upon a time I was younger than I am now, and I lived in Glebe, a suburb I liked for the convenience more than anything else. I liked when it rained and I liked the one or two times I was at Blackwattle Bay when it was raining. Those were brief moments.

I remember one time, due to a severe storm, being sent home from work early. We all left, I got home and it was raining on the way, and there was something nice about it, from what I remember. Maybe it was just the ability to go home early. I don’t know. But it was nice. You watch the rain fall around you and it creates this sheet that feels like a quiet, almost. A reduction in business. An emptiness of space. Stillness, perhaps. I don’t know. I just like how it feels.

It’s interesting as to how much rain can scatter and push people away, and make a place feel that sense of quiet, though. Few people want to be in the rain or dealing with it, and I get it. Who really wants to be dealing with the rain half the time, let alone most of the time? I mean, I do, but I’m one person and I don’t count for much of anything at the end of the day, anyway. I like it when it empties a place as it makes for great photography, I think. You capture a place whilst its raining, and say it’s in a city. People aren’t there, or they’re sticking to the more popular areas, so you get photos of places that just seem devoid of active human presence. That, to me, is interesting.

Maybe you go elsewhere in a city and suddenly there are more people walking about, and maybe there’s some space and maybe it’s crowded. That, too, is interesting. You could capture that. I just prefer the quiet.

It’s still raining and I’m liking this right now. But it’s dying down, and I’m here, thinking about the rain and how it falls. I’m thinking about how it transforms a space, and now the sun is coming out and it’s still raining, but this will soon come to an end, and the mood will change once more. Things will become lighter, more optimistic, though there’s something optimistic in the rain, too.

I’m thinking about all the times I’ve been inside and had a good view of somewhere outside, and been given the time to watch the rain. Those were not always pleasant times. You can sometimes lose yourself in the distraction of it all and really sink deep into some heavy moods, and rain can be as liberating as it can be freeing.

I remember once talking to a friend and they were talking about how they liked to go jogging in the rain as it makes it all so much more dramatic. I haven’t done that and I’m preferring to trust their word on the matter, but that’s what they liked to do, and maybe they still like to do it. I don’t know as I haven’t spoken to them in a while, and in a way I miss them. Maybe the only jogging they do these days is in the rain.

I also remember a time when I was working in call centres, and this is a long while ago. I finished an evening shift, and I was still living near Burwood at the time. Caught the train to Burwood station, decided to walk home. This was something I did plenty of, and I can’t remember if it started raining or if it already was, but at some point after exiting the station I walked through the rain home. It was storming and I was soaked by the time I got home. All of me, all of my clothes, absolutely drenched. Don’t know why I did it, but I did. It was night and heavy rain, and that was not a good idea. Didn’t have an umbrella with me as I didn’t know it was going to rain. You live and learn.

I think that the way I think about rain has changed over time, or rather, the way I think about things when I think about the rain has changed over time. I could still stare out a window. Maybe be on a terrace balcony looking over a backyard, seeing a bit of road. Hear some traffic but not much as there’s a big tree partially obscuring the view. Taking it all in, appreciating what it is around me, but feeling bitter and angry and upset about things, too. You know, fun stuff.

I think a lot of things when it comes to rain, and I do like how it is often treated as being representative of things. Like many things, depending on how far you want to stretch meaning, it can mean almost anything, really. Some people probably consider it the cleansing of the earth from God. Who knows.

A lot of my life has been lived around rain, and I think where I live right now is one of the less interesting places to view it from. But that’s okay, because there are plenty of places to view the rain from.

I’ve been finding myself missing Glebe quite a lot recently, and part of me suspects that that might have to do with the rain. I can remember a time in 2015, I think. I walked down Glebe Point Road in the rain, and it was falling hard. I walked through it, and there was something liberating about it, but it was also a bitter time.

The rain has almost stopped, and there’s more sun, too. The reflections remain, however, and they create a small pocket of reality suggested.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:47:26

At this point I started cramming and that wasn’t good. I’d left too much to the afternoon and I should not have done so as it meant I was stretching myself far more than I should have.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 257: Awesome Sandwich

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Already feeling the pinch and that’s never a good sign. Need to start digging into my bag of ideas and see if there is anything I am yet to use. A bit behind, too. I was hoping to be much further ahead than I am now, but I’ve still plenty of writing to do and plenty of day left to do it in. And that’s awesome, at least.

Day is slow and day is productive, I think. There is work to do and it needs doing, and it’s already done, so I don’t know what else I can do from here. Twiddling my thumbs yet again and looking for things to write about and I’m struggling. However, I set out to do a thing and do the thing is what I intend to do.

Writing is a joy and a pain and all those things, and it is nothing. It provides nothing, and it provides everything. It looks to the stars and helps us realise things about ourselves, and then we go from there and explore and explore some more, and once we are done exploring we explore further, and then maybe we find something that might say something about our place in society, and that can be a good thing. Can be a bad thing, too, but I’m hoping a good thing in this instance!

But you know, this is how writing is, or is not. I’m just trying to say whatever at the moment and hoping for the best. If I do that, then surely I will be able to create the most poignant sandwich I’ve ever created. And that would be awesome. That would be great. I could have a sandwich that I could get behind, and who would say no to that?

You know, some people behold their creations and proceed to besmirch them when they are something that the person created at the peak of their ability. They don’t recognise the gradual decline of the quality of what they do, and so are ignorant to their own ability to grow and learn. And all that other junk. If you produced an awesome sandwich and didn’t recognise it for what it is, then who is the real fool? It isn’t me; I’m digging into that thing! And then I’m gonna appreciate it, and I’ll appreciate its existence, and I’ll get on with life after. The sandwich will be gone, but its memory and legend shall live on.

Now, if I were to create an awesome sandwich, then let me tell you, I’d be chuffed. I’d be over the moon. I’d be so over the moon that I’d build a ladder to go up to it so I can tell it that I’m over it, then I’d go over it and come back down. That’s how over the moon I’d be.

Now, would I be telling everyone how awesome the sandwich is? Yes, yes I would. However, I would be sure to tell them that, whilst I created it, I still have a lot to learn as that would be true. Maybe I don’t make a sandwich better than that one. Maybe that’s the peak of my prowess. However, I don’t think I could truly claim that I have reached the end of everything and have no need to continue creating. I would offer the sandwich and I would study it.

What does the sandwich say about me? What does it say about society? Who covets the sandwich? These are important questions to ask, and perhaps there can be no discernible answer. Does the sandwich still exist as a sandwich once broken down to its constituent elements? Well, no, but the idea of the sandwich still does. A sandwich that doesn’t exist is a sandwich yet to be. It’s a sandwich that just might.

And so once it is gone and digested, if it ever gets to that point, it’ll transform into other things and become a functioning element of society, though it already was so this didn’t need saying, really.

But enough about sandwiches! And who asked you, anyway? All I know is that they are there and not here, and I’ve a lot of bread on my time and hands on my constituent sandwich elements. There’s only so much dough one can bake and it isn’t going to be used for clobbering people. It must be used for sandwich-releated research and artistry, and the more it is used, the better the bread will be understood. Therefore, it is my quest to sand on, which I’ll then know how ultimate some of the awe shall be, and it will be an awesome journey, filled with some awe.

So anyway… things other than sandwiches. You know, I’ve never been a big fan of panettone. Sure, it exists. Sure, people eat it. Not my thing, though. Maybe if it were in sandwich form, I’d have a different view of the item. However, it is not and does not, and so therefore I don’t. I only have the current view of it that I have, and perhaps that is the way it should be. Perhaps I could work toward changing this, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to work on changing it as I quite like my life being free of panettone. Maybe some people find this vile and offensive. To them, I say “You are wrong”.

These people who keep trying to tell me that it’s the most amazing thing ever, they need to go take a hike. They need to go sniff some trees. They need to go look at some soil and understand the natural processes of the earth and all that other stuff. Take a deep breath and use their eyes, and then go home and think about the grave transgressions instead of getting all up in my face for a change. It’d be appreciated.

Maybe they should try eating an awesome sandwich sometime. Probably help them realise just how wrong they are.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:33:41

Once I reached the sandwich bit I think I hit a stride. Didn’t lead to good writing, but once more, fun writing.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 256: The Horses and The Explosion

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Suddenly there was an explosion, and from that explosion a bunch of horses were flung about. This was cause for concern, as horses are not ones who usually experience being tossed about like rag dolls from the force of a sudden and violent explosion.

There were some horses fortunate enough to only bear witness to this, and so, from a safe distance, they felt it would be time to speak to the council. It was time… to raise concerns and issues at hand. And this meant… a journey.

The horses began their journey. It was after the explosion had cast light and shadows hard, and the sky a deep and darkened red, spreading over a large rocky and dried plain. Once things had settled, which was not that long, they made their move. They moved away from where they were, whinnied and galloped their way away from the explosion and to the farthest reaches that they could, and the journey was long. It was dangerous. It featured defiance, camaraderie, learning, suffering, triumph, and many long days fighting off despair and other creatures for the smallest of foods, for the tiniest of morsels. And it is safe to say that all the horses that were there came out of it in one piece, but forever changed.

And they finally reached their destination which was on the other side of the explosion which was still exploding, it turned out. Horses were still being thrown here and there, and the ones that made the journey were wondering why their horse pals were still anywhere near the explosion. Were they running into it for some reason? It only raised questions. However, those questions did not matter, for they needed to speak to the horse council and the explosion was pretty loud and annoying. And so they reached the cave which led to the cavern where the council resided, and they went in.

The amount of time they journeyed for in this new, underground space was long and dark, and it seemed time disappeared. Truly they knew not how long they had travelled for in this new and unfamiliar space, but it was about three or four hours. There was rest, of course. And then there was more walking and continuing, and all those other things that they were doing above the ground, but this time it was all under. Under and through, and continuous until they reached the council.

There was some reverence, except it was frustration and annoyance. The horses had done all this travel and they were now outside again and the council was there, and all this travel seemed excessive. But there was no time to ponder that, and they had to express their grievances.

“Oh wise and jaunty horse council, we are tired and disheartened, for we have travelled long, and we know not if we are going to get the answers and resolutions that we seek.”

“Speak, and we will ruminate and answer as we can.”

“There have been issues with the directing toward the lands where the best foods sit, awaiting their consumption via mastication. We travel to the lands but the lands we are directed to are not the correct lands. There has been…. a miscommunication.”

A mix of gasps filled the space. Not from the council, but from other horses who happened to be there.

“Calm, now. There is reason for all actions, and deceit is part of what is needed to be understood in order to gallop the true track. The directions provided are correct in order to help learn this lesson.”

“We understand that the directions are incorrect, but this is causing issues. We are losing the energy that we require in order to keep horsing around.”

“Follow patience, find calm, and you will find the true directions between the directions.”

“Oh thank you, council. Now I must advise of another. There have been times when other horses have appeared, and they were once familiar friends. Perhaps siblings, in a manner of speaking. However, they arrive and then they stomp their forehooves twice. In response, I stomp my forehooves five times, with a pause between the third and fourth stomp. They then stomp their hooves three times, then swish their tails, then stomp a fourth time. I whinny and defecate. They then gallop around in circles, neighing and braying and shaking their heads. I am only to wonder if they really are horses.”

A mix of gasps filled the space.

“The solution is simple. You must guide them to the wooden barge that leads further inland, and guide them unto it, and they will then ride the barge and be inland and learn their true natures, and find calm within their souls.”

“But there is no way for the barge to move inland, there’s no river wide eno-”

“And what is your next query?”

“The explosion keeps making horses airborne, and it does not stop and it is loud and annoying.”

“An explosion? What explosion?”

“The one that is sending horses through the air, and we can hear it now. IF you just look up, you’ll see horses.”

“Those are not horses, but merely clouds moving quite fast.”

“They are horses.”

“Is this something you have evidence of?”

“Yes, just by looking up.”

And the council looked up.

“That is a lot of horses. Okay, we’ll do something about the issue.”

“Thank you, oh wise and venerate council.”

And from there the group left, and made their return home, more annoyed than earlier. They had the answers they sought, but perhaps not the answers they hoped for, but there was little to be done.

Eventually there was a fence and a sign erected around the explosion. It cautioned going past the fence, but of course some horses chose to ignore it. The council, satisfied with their work, returned to doing horse council things, and eventually the explosion exploded itself out of existence. It took a while though, and it was annoying the whole time.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 17:59:05

This was really fun to write. It was silly and it took a bit of time, but I had so much fun writing it.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 255: A Rambling Start

Posted on March 20, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Lights bright and bright enough to give a good bit of illumination here. Illuminating my surroundings, and that’s all I’ve got for an introduction.

I think I’ve written about the day as my introduction far too may times, but I feel I’ve nowhere else to go. I keep writing and I keep writing to bring everything to its conclusion, and I’ve little left in the tank.

Today will hopefully be a day of writing, and I’m doing it again.

Today will hopefully be a day of writing. I have a thing that I want to do and get out of the way, and maybe that will be today. However, there will be more writing done than what will be seen today as there are a few things I need to prepare for the next few days, too. Make sure I get what I need to get done done and then some. And… yeah.

So here I am, sitting. I’m thinking about what the next few hours will provide. I’m thinking about what I will learn about today. I’m thinking about how things progress and turn and change, and now that there’s less than a month left, how I’m going to get enough written in that time to achieve all the goals I want to achieve. I don’t know how I’ll do it, and to be honest I don’t think I will do it. I don’t think I will get it all done. I’m still going to try, however.

Trying is always worth it unless it is absolutely clear that it is better to walk away, or that your heart definitely, irrefutably lies elsewhere. Or that you’re wandering away anyway, or whatever else would mean that’s it better to not try. But I think it is worth trying, at least most of the time. For me it is worth trying. It is worth attempting. It is worth getting through what needs to be done, and doing it the best one can. I don’t know if I am the best at trying, however, but I still think it is worth it.

I think today is a day of trying, and I think that sitting here, going further into writing about what I usually write about is not worth doing, but it’s a preparation. It’s warming up and I am warming up. There isn’t much time left and I’ve a lot to do, and doing a lot in little is what I do well most of half the time, and only verily so on the day that doesn’t face the day of today. Perhaps… tomorrow. Corner-wise, at least.

And so I’m sitting in this space, biding my time before work starts. I’m waiting and waiting, ad I’m waiting some more. Waiting to take up some time and taking time to take up some time. I’m biding my time, waiting, trying to get through what it is that I’m trying to get through, which is a bunch of words that I apparently lack respect for, and I’m not feeling shit. This is a good thing.

Probably will feel shit later, but right now at least, I don’t. Tomorrow, maybe. In a few hours, probably. Right now, no.

I actually feel alright. I didn’t sleep as well as I could have, but right now I’m doing alright. I’m doing okay. I’m a bit level, a bit balanced, and maybe that has to do with moving away from Friday last week. Gaining some distance and gaining some time, and finding new perspective among everything. Hoping that’s the case, anyway. Might just be finding all the old crap that I find and digging through it again, and then I’ll be hurting myself once more. I’m good at hurting myself. I’m good at digging through old stuff. It all works in terms of perpetuating cycles that aren’t worth holding onto.

Well, not all old stuff, but some of it.

I think I have issues with letting go.

I’m thinking about what lies ahead and how the rest of the morning will go. I’m thinking about what I’ll be learning and what I won’t be learning, and I’m thinking about the hours that come after all of this. The hours where there will be some time where I won’t be doing much of anything as I’ll need to wait and rest before heading off to a gig to do my picture taking for the people I want to be around.

I’m thinking about where to go from here, and how I go to there, and the dots that will connect the path together. What lies ahead. Where lies ahead. How will things change and progress. Will it be another quiet day, or will the day be busy and full-on? I am yet to find out. I hopefully will find out soon. Maybe I won’t until the day is nearly over and that will be that.

I’m writing about boredom again, I think, and this isn’t worth writing. This isn’t something worth digging into, and I think that I need to write about being entertained more often. Sure, it might be just as much a waste of everyone’s time as anything else that I’ve written, but at least it’ll be something new. It won’t be fighting to be as entertaining as staring at a wall with no discernible pattern; a flat, featureless surface that’s one colour that matches the other walls around it, and not that controversial. Plain and dull, and agreeable. Something that won’t disturb the peace or ruffle a few feathers.

That’s what I’m up against and I don’t like that, but I’m sure I will cope… somehow. In some manner. I just need to make the next bit of writing far more entertaining than this bit of writing. Can I do that? I don’t know, but maybe the next one will start with an explosion. And horses. Everyone loves horses. Those who don’t love horses don’t exist.

Alright. The next thing starts with an explosion and horses.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:41:30

Decent time, crap writing.

Written at work.

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Out in the Field

Posted on March 19, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

When I took this photo, I was thinking of isolation; of a quiet loneliness. Not sure how well that came through, but I feel it’s there.

This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week. Brian of Bushboy’s World hosts the next one, and he has chosen the theme of “On the Roof”.

This challenge is open to all, and I recommend joining in. If want to, check out more information about it here, and include the tag “monochrome-madness” when you share your photo. If you’d prefer not to join in, then at the least check out Leanne’s photography, and what other people submit.

I hope you enjoy.

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Final: Untitled 2 (It Comes to Us All)

Posted on March 19, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

I was thinking more about what the sounds were doing than anything else, but I didn’t get much into it. Got a bit stuck on the pattern, but it was interesting to me, so… yeah.

Final’s “Untitled” is from It Comes to Us All. The album’s tracks are untitled,  and this is the second on the album.

As a side note, here’s a review of the album that I wrote a few years ago.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Growing from silence, a melodic distort moving through noise, being sanded back and drawn from whilst it remains unchanging. Something seems to hover on over, then fall back. More distortion, more noise, and finding a melodic rest of sorts.

A little bit of space comes in before everything starts pressing in again. Noise smears and presses, and it’s as though moving through processes. Moving through moments and places and scenes, and growth and routines.

A little bit of space comes in again, and gradually everything starts pressing in once more. Patterns in the melody, in the fragility of it all. Sound pressing against, pressing in, through a blur and continuing on to wherever is next. Continuing on, always fragmenting, always fraying and disintegrating and losing nothing along the way.

Moments of clarity almost swallowed before pushing back, only to come close to being swallowed over and over. And continually pushing back, pushing against, or rather pushing through until finally getting there and fading away into silence at the song’s end.

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Final: ENATKWBY 2

Posted on March 19, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

Once I wrote the first few words, I was set on one track. I think it paid off as, whilst a few bits are quite rough, I think that this reads well enough. The song is very open to interpretation, and when I think about it, it could also be about an infant, or general young child calling out.

Final’s “ENATKWBY 2” is from EXPECT NOTHING AND THE KINGDOM WILL BE YOURS. As a side note, here’s a review I wrote about the album.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Some hulking, massive thing calls out as though a horn through a deep fog. It calls out, and lowers and rumbles, lonely, searching and isolated. It bellows long, and with melancholy.

It walks and searches, and its calls change shape. They remain the same calls, but they change and transform, and they grow deep and distorted and frayed. Almost a weakening, or a gradual giving up. A gradual hope giving way to despair.

The space, normally silent and still, is cut through only by the calling out and searching. A search across an empty space, once subtly vibrant with life, now stilled. It could be stilled by this thing searching for a connection and searching for something, its character misunderstood. It could be stilled by the area having had the life leave it and gradually becoming quieter.

Lingering and hoping for something to be revealed, and maybe it is. Maybe this thing has found something. Maybe it has been following something this whole time, gradually getting closer to it, but still too far away.

This thing starts moving away from the space. It moves through a deep fog, becoming less visible, though it was already difficult to completely discern. It moves into a rising veil of noise covering the space, and moving everything into quiet static at the song’s end.

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