Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1484: Try Again Today

Posted on April 13, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

So this week just past I decided to try and get ten posts up in one day. I think I’ve done this before, though it may have been nine, but I thought I’d try. Didn’t work out. Might try to do nine today.

There’s no good reason for me to do this, especially when I have a lot of other stuff I need to be taking care of, but I thought it would post a nice challenge. Failed, might succeed today.

What I’ve learned from this is that I am not too functional in the afternoon. The morning, I’m good. I’m able to get a lot of things done. Well, so long as I actually get moving on things I am. The afternoon? Not so much. Perhaps I’m burning too much energy early in the day. Don’t know if that’s why, don’t care to know why. Do know that I’m being a bit lazy now, but I need to get on with it. There really is a lot to do today and so I need to start getting stuff done.

Some of that stuff will be writing. The first thing I’m doing this morning is churning out a bunch of things. I’ll take a step back after and then get back to it a bit later, but might space things out a bit. That way I don’t burn out too much… hopefully.

Why am I even writing about this? Surely there are other, far more interesting and important things to cover. Surely I can think of other ways to go with this bit of writing. I guess I could get a bit more into the why I’m talking about this thing I attempted this week, but that… I don’t know.

Really, what else is there to say? Or rather, what else is there that I could want to say? I’ve covered it all. I’ve said all there is for me to say at the moment.

Sometimes I wonder why I try to do some things. It’s not exactly an ambitious thing to achieve, this particular one, but I still wonder as to why I set out… sometimes. I don’t always. It is good to wonder at times. It helps with the brain juices, but it’s not always good… maybe. I don’t know.

At least, for now, I know what I’ll be doing today. I also know that it almost is the afternoon and if I don’t finish this now, then I won’t be able to claim that I started this morning, and that will be some sort of disaster, or something. Maybe. Who knows.

So I’m going to try again today. I’m going to see if I can do it at the present moment. I’m sure I can, and I will if I work on it, but I do need to work on it. I need to actually go ahead and try, and keep trying, and try some more. Once done? I might just try again during the coming week.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:20:19

Some stumbling, but got there in the end.

Written at home.

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Heavy Over the Fields

Posted on April 12, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Best title I could come up with at this particular moment.

Sort of a quiet photo, in a sense. Feels small, pastoral kind of. Definitely feels small under those clouds.

I hope you enjoy.

 

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Lake: Tapper

Posted on April 12, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

Decided it’d be good to write about this song from Lake also, though I’m not sure why I decided. Something in it revealed itself to me, I guess. Anyway, I feel this got better the further into the song I got; whilst I was thinking pretty actively, I was able to loosen up a bit toward the end.

Lake’s “Tapper” is from Lake. I hope you enjoy.

—

The gentle lapping of guitar. It echoes and rings out in space, in a silence It drops and ripples gently, and it forms screens, almost. This moment is a relaxing bit of gentle, but that relaxation lifts when percussion and bass come in, changing the shape of everything. That gentleness remains, however.

Exploring a motion-based prettiness, almost, though it soon turns to something a little more directed and maybe a little gloomy too. But maybe it’s just skipping and gliding along still waters during a quiet, cool morning.

Guitar raises above the murk in places and continues contrasting and keeping things gentle; bass locks down and becomes even more driving, and the percussion shifts around it all whilst keeping space a premium.

Some more space and perhaps this is something to drift off to. There’s questions, but it’s all sorts of easing up until the bass forces a shift in the flow. It takes a new direction, and the percussion and guitar build up around it, perhaps looking to continue what came before whilst finding something new. However, tension grows; guitar starts stretching and distorting, and soon it is what is left.

The guitar forms an expanse that soon melts when guitar and bass return, locked into a pattern that started just before they ended. Guitar is there too, and some of it remains expansive, but this is moments of strikes and scrapes. One hand atmosphere is there, drifting around; on the other, everything is direct and frazzled in a sense. Sounds keep striking and fraying whilst remaining concise and tightened, repeating and pushing the moment, repeatedly punctuating until the song ends.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1483: The Specific Expressing of Nonsense

Posted on April 12, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Bit of a lost day, today, but I’m getting on with it. Still have some time before I need to make myself present in other spaces. Still can do get some things done. Can’t waste tomorrow, so I’ve wasted today, I guess. Need sleep or something.

A fine day to spend doing nothing, and also a fine day to spend feeling tired as, but it wasn’t. There needed to be work done, but it wasn’t, so that’s all tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the big cram day, and I’ll get through it somehow. For now, however, it’s time to listen to something heavy and ominous, so I will.

The birds outside? Pretty. The vague sounds of traffic? Annoying. They all lack the punch that comes from the melding of sounds into a lurking, lurching and creaking boat. They lack that certain uncertainty and unease that comes from not knowing what is going on and how whatever it is is going to happen.

I have no idea what I’m saying with this.

I think I might actually be tapped out. I think I may have finally reached the end of my creativity. I think that, if I don’t try and do something about this, then this really is it. There’s nothing else to say. What do I say about that? How do I say anything about that? Do I even try?

This is like something that is really horrible. I can’t even. I literally cannot even right now. But I have to accept it. It has all floated away, down the river that was far beyond my reach in the first place. Bloody hell. What now? Truly, everything has finally become shit. There’s no going back from this. There’s no turning everything around. There’s no finding the path that leads out of this mess.

Well, I guess it’s time to slip into retirement, or something to that effect. It’s time to start taking it easy for the rest of my years, and by golly, I’ve earned it. There’s no saying otherwise, really. How can you combat that? The ability to be creative has left me, truly, and now I don’t know what else to do. I can finally retire and take it easy and relax. I can finally find out where all the pieces lie and I can go potter about in my garden and read a book and understand what it takes to rest and relax, and sleep in here and there. I can finally do it all, and that truly is the best of all possibilities for me. What else could I even think of doing?

It was a good run, creativity. It was a good run and a good time, but listening to this deep and foreboding music has revealed it all to me, and it just was not to be. As such, there are no more words to write. There are no more tales to spin. That’s all fine and good though. A good, long retirement now awaits.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:41:13

Not sure if this should be classified as Fiction instead of Life. Alas.

Written at home.

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Lake: Jettison

Posted on April 11, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

I’ve wanted to hold off on writing about this song because I want to write about the album as a whole. It took a long time to get a hold of it, but I don’t know how long it will take for me to get to covering it, so here’s writing about one of the songs.

Got in the zone toward the end. Rushed through, wrote something super loose and messy, but this is one I’m pretty happy about because it does cover the song pretty well.

Lake’s “Jettison” is from Lake.

I hope you enjoy

—

Bass rumbling and charging with a calm intensity. Percussion comes in, striking hard, repeatedly, loud and quiet all the same. Guitar eventually joins, playing light notes, seemingly sinewy, seemingly terse. It too rumbles.

The sounds layer over each other through a muffled darkness, uncertain, unsure, stressed almost. Focused and moving through menace.

The rhythm remains steady; the guitar shifts forms, changing the feel whilst remaining anchored. It pulls away; the percussion shifts. More space, but it still feels cramped. It feels urgent and pressing, and there’s no breathing, almost.

But in all of this, there still is a calm. There is a drive and a desire to keep on moving; everything gets heavy and twisted and dark. Sounds move around each other, circling whilst moving forward. Linking, finding places of familiarity, and it soon all comes to a head.

Everything is driving forward, pushing on, urging, escaping. Finding the space, pushing into the dramatic, charging, thundering on forward, growing, making a statement, pushing to that final moment. Heavy release, thunder, strikes, emphasise and finally, getting there, finding relief, getting out from all the pressure and finding that relief, and letting go with a definitive statement as the song ends.

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Community

Posted on April 11, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Almost every day I go to the local cafe. Might get a coffee; might be picking up milk. Could be taking over a classes’ lunch order. Work stuff. You know. But almost every day I’m at the local cafe due to work, and often just to get something to drink in the morning.

The cafe is pretty close. Maybe thirty metres away from the entrance of where I work. Easy to get to. I’m usually in and out, and that’s that. Interactions for the day end. Sometimes I’m there multiple times. Always depends on things.

Recently I became the local heartthrob for the cafe staff. Of course, this isn’t true, but they know what I’m going through and what I’m dealing with, and we talk and get along. They take an interest in my life and I, theirs. And it makes me wonder about what is going on in my life, that these people who barely know me are friendly and warm with me.

Though it doesn’t make me wonder, actually, because in a sense we are colleagues even though we work in different businesses. But we also get along. WE talk, and we form community. We speak about our lives and share stories and joke. We share sadness and we uplift each other.

Every now and then I interact with some of the contractors who help maintain this building whenever I request their help. We’ve gotten to know each other and are more relaxed. It’s more community. It’s the same with the facilitators who work here. We talk, we take interest in what we each go through. But we also get the work done. I’m there to assist where I can and so are they.

My contract is coming to an end soon and I’m not looking forward to the possibility that I won’t be here. I like who I work with, and I like the people I interact with. I like being part of a team, but I also like being part of a community. I like this community and I feel accepted, and it’s wonderful. I don’t feel like an outsider. But if I’m gone, that community changes. These people lose someone they like and are happy to work with, and I lose a space where I get to feel accepted. It changes.

Community isn’t necessarily a stable thing, of course, but it takes a long time to build and not much to break. It has familiarity, and that acceptance of familiarity and willingness to be part of it. It takes time and it’s not always operating optimally, but it’s one of the most wonderful things when done well. Looking after each other, taking an interest in people, and being reliable and accountable. And it’s going to be sad once I’m gone, because the community here will change once more, and that’ll be that.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1482: Some old ground, some new ground.

Posted on April 11, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Last night I was going to write freely. Continue on with the thing I’m trying to achieve (which I’ll attempt again today, and keep on attempting if I must). Decided to write under time constraints instead. Didn’t pan out. Doing it now.

Bad news yesterday, though that’s not anything new. Perhaps it’s better to say undesirable news, but that do be the way it pans out, sometimes. And then some reassurance, and then someone else getting bad news, and then being spoken to in a way that raises hypocrisy, and… yeah. But now I’m here. I’m here, I’m alive, and I can keep going. It’s not all bad.

Looks like it’ll be a warm day. Don’t want it to be, but that’s how it looks. Mainly because I didn’t water the plants this morning. But you know, it’s not all bad. I know some people will appreciate today. I might not, but some will, and, well, good on them. That sounds sarcastic, but it isn’t.

So what am I doing here? What am I doing right now? Spinning the wheels? Once more? Yet again? For how long? Questions?

What am I doing here? I could be anywhere (not really), so why here? Why here when I need to be applying for more jobs? Well, I need to work still and my contract is yet to end. Still waiting on some good news, of course, but these things take time. Always do and always will.

I guess this is one of those moments where I shouldn’t be writing because I don’t know what it is that I’m trying to convey, or rather I just want to move onto the next thing. I have an idea that I want to get across and it’s about community, in a sense, and really it is about community and not much, if anything else. Well, there are probably other things involved, but you know. But I need to finish this. I need to find where the point of this bit of writing lies, if I can indeed find that at all.

I need more sleep. Don’t know how I’m still powering on at the moment, but I am and that’s pretty good.

Out of this window I can see a bird, a tree, buildings, another tree, more than two trees, more buildings. It looks so pleasant outside, and yet it doesn’t seem to be. A lot of traffic, a lot of coldness on a warm day. It all keeps happening and it doesn’t stop. Is that good? I don’t know. I don’t know anymore, but I’m writing. I’m getting something done, and if I can do this I can keep applying for jobs and finishing off a bunch of things. I can keep going, and I hope to keep going. Just need to keep on driving forward and pushing on and all of those things.

Ah, I did it again. Still need to use up some words, but I don’t know which ones to spend.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:48:69

Real struggle, this one. Should’ve forced myself down a different train of thought.

Written at work.

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Radiowar: Exchange

Posted on April 10, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

Let go a little with this one. Led to some more repetition than I’d have liked, but this writing feels very… organic, in a sense. I mean, all my writing does to some extent, but this one especially so.

Radiowar’s “Exchange” is from For Everlasting Peace: 25 Years of Mega Man, a tribute album celebrating 25 years of Mega Man games. The song is an interpretation of Akira Kaida’s (海田明里) “Boundless Network” from Mega Man Battle Network, which I wrote about here.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Light percussion in a silent space, but soon the space fills with reverbed possibility. It comes in waves, or perhaps stretched pulses, and the beat picks up, becomes more striking and yet remains relaxed.

There’s something soundless about this, and seems futuristic in a sense. It seems forward looking. And soon there is no sound, though brief silence broken by some beeps, like something coming alive. Something being discovered, and opportunity arising.

The release of white noise, and something crackles. The beat returns and that crackling remains low. It’s a low static, rustling, and those beeps remain, and something else starts coming forward. It seems calm itself, as all of this does, and it seems sleek and smooth, and perhaps powerful.

The beat picks up, as does everything else just about, and all the sounds remain reverberant. Something is being born, and it’s wonderful. It’s all just wonderful.

Te beat pulls away, the sounds heave and slide in shapes, and they form structure through repetition. They form familiarity. They form shape with the space between as the foundation. They reinforce it when the percussion returns, and it’s a lively moment, but it remains relaxed. It remains futuristic, and it shifts to something else once progress is needed.

It’s minimal once more, with something in the distance spreading out, and something drops into it and it spreads out further. It ripples in silk smoothness, and those beeps are there. They are here, and sounds pull away, but the future is here. The wonder of possibility is here, and it’s calm, but it’s exciting, and it remains as such when the song ends.

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Yoko Shimomura: Treasured Memories

Posted on April 10, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

I’m not sure what I wrote here. I mean, I can read it and I know what I wrote, but I’m not “sure” of it, if that makes sense.

Yoko Shimomura’s (下村陽子) “Treasured Memories” is from Kingdom Hearts Original Soundtrack, the soundtrack for Kingdom Hearts. It’s also from (among many other releases), Kingdom Hearts Original Soundtrack COMPLETE.

I hope you enjoy

—

Lingering keys above strings, and they are gentle and comforting. They move and dip and rise, slow, let themselves linger briefly, draw out and waft and rise. They rise and rise, and yet remain where they are, looking to touch something and reflect.

The sounds reflect and stay gentle, and they lift forward what matters most in the moment, and what they feel should most be held onto. There is something that they are presenting, but they present without force. They carry sentimentality upon them, and stay focused on their gentle pattern as they fade out and the song ends.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 215: Today’s Writing on Trying to Create

Posted on April 10, 2025 by Stupidity Hole

Alright, so what now? What do I write now that I’m already tapped out for this morning? I was considering crapping on about music, but I feel an urge to churn out more words about nothing, knowing that it’s a great risk to my mental state at the moment. I was thinking about doing the healthier option and instead I chose filth. I chose pain.

But I’m choosing it as an easy option, or rather a familiar option, because doing this is what I currently know. I’m trying to let go, but that’s hard, but I am trying. I am hoping. I don’t know what the fuck is going on at the moment and everything is in turmoil, but I’m still alive and I’m still trying to survive so… there’s always a chance for things to improve.

For now, however, it’s spinning the wheels trying to find the ground whilst the car incessantly flips without actually hitting anything. A car crash in slow motion, though the crash has passed and the car is still moving. Need it to land on its wheels, need everyone to be okay, and need to make sure that I come out of it and keep on going once the damage has been assessed. Need to improve and all that.

Well, that was pretty dramatic.

I think that writing is probably the best thing I’m best at, as evidenced by this sentence alone. But really, I am a stronger writer than I am drawer, musician and photographer, and perhaps it is why I don’t have an issue with dropping photography. Writing does not make me feel alive in the same way that music does, but I am better at it. I am better at putting words together in a way that makes sense than I am at creating sound and combining it in a way that makes sense. Sometimes that’s just the way things go, really. But I do love music, and I don’t know if I could ever let it go. There’s too much if it to explore out there, and it’s all rich and fertile land, and there’s so many ideas that I have that I desire to work on and create, and do all of those things. You know how it is.

I also know how it is.

So with that said, why do I write the way I write? How is it that I’ve come to a space where how I write is the way I write, and I feel that this is the most acceptable way of writing? Actually, now that I think about it I know. It’s in part due to the process of picking the pen back up after the previous ex dumped me. It came through from there, and I eventually decided that rambling was the way to go.

I look at the stuff that I write that I edit, and that’s always much better. That has more to say with less words (*sometimes) and gets things across that aren’t just “Yeah I’ve said this before and I’m saying it again”. That’s something that I can be happy about, I guess. Or rather, I can be content with, even if I’m not satisfied with the work that I produce after a few days of sharing it.

I think about writing a lot, and I think about processes. I think about how the wheels are spinning and the car is off the ground, and I’m wondering if I’ll actually be able to find any success one day. I don’t know, and I’m worried. Maybe I should drop writing. Maybe I should just drop everything that I love and find something else. Success shouldn’t be the pursuit, but it’d be nice to have. It’d be nice to not have to worry about where money is coming from, but them’s the breaks and perhaps I’ll be pumping them one day. I don’t know.

Maybe I should just publish a book. Write the greatest crap thing that has ever been written. Wonder how far that would get me. Probably not very far. But maybe. The main issue is, whilst it would be sincere, it probably would come off as cynical and then beyond that, I’d be aiming to intentionally write crap. The best crap comes form a place of legitimate desire to create something honest; with heart, and even if it’s being enjoyed  despite the intent, I can respect that because someone tried. Maybe a team tried, and they failed, but they made something genuine. They made something with heart, and that goes a long way.

So sometimes I enjoy bad works, but I don’t enjoy them when they feel cynical. I don’t enjoy them when they feel designed to be bad. Of course some of those kinds of works can be pretty good; sometimes they have heart, but it’s not the same as having a group of people who tried to make something good and failed, due to whatever reasons. I have respect for works that tried and failed, though of course that also depends on the intent of the work. Some intend to be hateful, and that’s not my cup of tea, to be honest.

So I’m not sure if I could make an intentionally bad work that was enjoyable, but I also know that I’m not certain I could make a good work. Certainly could try, however. What’s the worst that happens? I don’t succeed.

Really though, it’d be nice to have some success with my writing, and that doesn’t happen, but I still love writing. I love the process, even when it’s frustrating and I love getting words together in an order that says something about something. I also love the meaningless and perhaps I revel in it far too much, but there’s not always telling with these sorts of things.

Well, I’ve a few more words to consume. Thought I’d have ended it already, but I was wrong.

So… yeah. That’s today’s writing on trying to create.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:55:95

Decent speed. Sort of meandered a bit, went here and there. It’s a bit of a compressed journey this one, I think.

Written at work.

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