MADNESS? THIS IS JAMES CLAYTON!

ENTER... JAMES CLAYTON

Wed, 22 May 2013 11:17:09 +0100

Here sits James Clayton’s creative kung fu and other stuff…

Aye! In case you missed it, all my blog bits and pieces and anti-bits and anti-pieces are happening over on my fresh Wordpress website. It has a yellow colour scheme. It’s not owned by Yahoo. It was found last week by someone typing “SNES gamers blinded by nostalgia” into a search engine.

It may have something of interest. Recent slightly-deep blog posts have been praising people who open up in public about health problems and doing daily life with compassion and conscious awareness. Plus I also delved into the esoteric mysteries of this year’s Eurovision Song Contest.

Oh, and if you’re wandering idly around the internet and want to see some other stuff I’m contributing to, go forth and gaze upon The Working Barbarian.

Don’t hang around here while there’s nothing happening here! Head elsewhere to more exotic cyberspaces of high adventure!

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! Captain Haddock vs Captain Birdseye....

Wed, 01 May 2013 12:05:39 +0100

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

Captain Haddock vs Captain Birdseye. Here’s a poster for my latest contribution to the Fight! Fight! Fight! site. Further promotional pre-amble on my new site here. Hit the high seas and enjoy the ultraviolence…

Memo Moment: fresh fragments of my magick manifest elsewhere...

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 16:03:47 +0100

Oi vey! Here’s another memo to say “Didn’t you get the memo? All the exciting stuff is elsewhere and, oh, what a desolate waste this is!”

I encourage you to go over to my website to catch up on cool things. Some fresh new things of interest include a fresh Pictonaut challenge effort in the form of a screenplay and on the horizon I’ll be stepping up to write for The Working Barbarian. The latter needs your input and I urge you to vote for the outcome affects what I have to write for you.

Go forth! Leave this place and enjoy the treasures of elsewhere!

glempy: The Fear Right now my anxiety is making a noise. it’s...

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 13:25:12 +0100

glempy:

The Fear

Right now my anxiety is making a noise. it’s a high-pitched whining sound that could, if properly…

View Post

Magus John the Steele has looked The Fear in its eyeballs and jammed his bastard sword right into all three of ‘em! By the thunder grumbles of Xaxathoon the Grumpy! The Life and Times of a Working Barbarian has gone live!

'MEANWHILE, IN AN ALTERNATE REALITY...' NEWS SERVICE ENDS.

Sun, 07 Apr 2013 10:00:53 +0100

meanwhileinanalternatereality:

MEANWHILE, IN AN ALTERNATE REALITY… HAS BEEN HAPPY TO PROVIDE A DAILY PARALLEL DIMENSION NEWS SERVICE FOR 222 BROADCASTS. NOW - FOR THIS PARADIGM OF EXISTENCE AT LEAST - IT IS TIME TO CEASE OPERATIONS. PLEASE CLICK ON THIS LINK FOR FURTHER INFORMATION AND ANALYSIS. THANK YOU, AND GOOD NIGHT.

This is not the blog you're looking for...

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 19:39:35 +0100

*Waves fingers, casts Jedi Mind Trick…*

You should really be heading over there. That’s where there’s a lot of exciting action. This wretched hive of scum and villainy is a bit of a desert these days, you know…

Oh, yeah…

*Waves fingers, casts another Jedi Mind Trick…*

You want to submit something to Badnasty Horror Horse Opera. Now, let me pass and may the Force be with you…

Fight! Fight! Fight! Agent Smith vs Elrond vs Mitzi Del Bra....

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 20:57:05 +0100

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Agent Smith vs Elrond vs Mitzi Del Bra. It’s on…

Enter... James Clayton

Mon, 18 Mar 2013 10:46:00 +0000

Enter... James Clayton:

Hail! I have a new website/blog! I hope you like it and find things of interest there.

It’s work-in-progress and some more friggin’ in the riggin’ needs to be done. Nevertheless, it’s good to have something up and running with all my links on that isn’t a Tumblr site. Tumblr is good for media content and memes but isn’t good for a lot of writing or consistent, coherent organisation. That’s where the new site comes in to hopefully do the job. Ideally, that blog will replace this one which may be repurposed later as a transient, inconsequential image dump or on-the-fly avant-garde poetry bin. Or I could sell out and boot up a blog with real mass rebloggable appeal. Yeah, how about a ‘Marvel Comics Characters Hidden in Classic Art Masterpieces’ tumblr ? Let’s go: go forth and find the Incredible Hulk in a Hieronymus Bosch painting…

Anyway, all the short stories and other things I write will be easier to access and the plan is to sprawl out some blogging and lengthier rambles - the sort of stuff I shouldn’t do on Twitter because 140 characters sometimes isn’t enough for extended, elaborate ruminations and rants. I openly invite you then to join me in my new, improved, more awesome realm…

"Celebrity fish whisperer Jon Abhina - collaborator with many of the world’s top aquariums and marine..."

Fri, 15 Mar 2013 08:11:42 +0000

“Celebrity fish whisperer Jon Abhina - collaborator with many of the world’s top aquariums and marine institutions - has admitted to deception and revealed, “Sometimes, I’m just making things up”.”

- (via meanwhileinanalternatereality)

And that’s the 200th ‘Meanwhile, in an alternate reality…’ news bulletin. I can’t believe I’m still reporting these things. I’ll be stopping soon (our reality surely can’t take so much parallel universe action) but for now, whoa! 200! Infinite high fives to all the universes!

Homespun Theatre UK: Author Interview: James Clayton

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 08:35:40 +0000

Homespun Theatre UK: Author Interview: James Clayton:

I was invited to ramble about folk tales and myself by Homespun Theatre and duly did so. Here it is reblogged for those who may be interested in reading about Japanese mythology, alternate realities, writing and, erm, me…

homespuntheatre:

We thought it was high time we got to know Homespun Threads contributor James Clayton a little better. Now you can too!

I’m James Clayton and I’m 25 - though I figure that I’m actually somewhere around 18 because dark forces outside my control have conspired to keep me in arrested…

Pictonaut Short Story - Dead Spaces...

Mon, 11 Feb 2013 16:18:00 +0000

Hark! I have a fresh Pictonaut short story to share with thee! As is customary, the venerable John Steele has thrown down the challenge to write a tale inspired by an evocative image. Behold: February’s source picture is a brilliant photo of the former House of the Bulgarian Communist Party.

I thought about tackling this by writing a rip-off of At the Mountains of Madness with tentacular Socialist deities rising out of the ice to consume the soul of a wayward academic on an ill-advised field trip. The Lovecraftian terrors withdrew however as I sat and pondered on the quiet pathos of the picture. It speaks of ideologies being abandoned, a Communist fantasy and ambitious power designs ebbing away and perishing as time moves on.

It’s poignant and ‘cause grand dreams are on my agenda at the moment, I’ve ended up coming up with the following fiction-bit. I am all apologies for pumping out a juvenile pep-talk affirmation powertrip from the perspective of an neo-utopian emo-kid which, writing-wise, is a throwback attempt to channel my angry teenage diary days (ick, ick and more ick). Make of it what you will and, in the meantime, I urge you to have a stab at the Pictonaut short challenge and play around with some words before the month is done. Here then is my February Pictonaut effort…

Dead Spaces

By James Clayton

Dear Journal,

Feeling pretty lonely today. Lonely and cold. Seriously, it must be like minus 13 in here at least. I dunno. I got no way of telling exactly.

So very lonely but not so bad that I’m useless and frozen up. I’d say it’s about a 5 out of 10 day. Halfway on the scale is good. It isn’t one of those days (and I hate those days. Those days can’t be allowed to happen and I’m determined that I won’t let ‘em happen). There are positives - no powercuts lately and I found some tinned tuna earlier. It wasn’t as rancid as the fish I found last week so that’s a plus. Take the plusses. Take ‘em and hold tight to gratitude for the mercies and good bits. You’re strong and you’ve got plusses and the Dream to keep pushing you on.

As well as playing up the plusses I keep trying to cling to that sweet sense of wonder and that precious silence. This is why we came out here - for the fresh silence. No more noise. Fresh space for the Dream away from the old world. The Dream didn’t fit the old world. I didn’t fit there either. I’m happier here than I would be there. There’s peace in this silence. It sometimes feels like I’m drowning in isolated quiet and and gets to me, but I’ve got to ignore that and focus on the positive. Remember the Dream. Remember what brought me here and what I’m living for. Absolutely yes. I’m alive. I’m living the Dream.

I’m feeling it a bit today, that double-edged sword of silence. The solitude can be beautiful and seconds later it can be brutal, cutting me up in different ways. I’m happy and then horrified sometimes all at the same time. Confusing but I can handle it ‘cause I’m strong. The challenge is to keep coming back to the euphoria memories and that peace every time the clouds of despair start coming down. I’m doing well ‘cause they haven’t clouded my conviction even if they got to everyone else. The doubt and cold and loneliness aren’t going to kill my Dream. I’ve still got the Dream and I’m gonna hold on to the Dream.

It’s a beautiful Dream. It will always be a beautiful Dream. I am still living my beautiful Dream.

I’m alive and I have my Dream but they don’t it any more. But you know what? Forget them. If their dreams are dead, well, I feel sorry for them. I’m not dying and neither is my Dream. I’m alive and I’m keeping the Dream alive just by being alive. Where are they? Dead. Maybe not actually physically dead but their minds and souls are. They left me but I’m better off without them if they don’t believe and if they can’t cling to the Dream. I hope they can manage to survive in the old world. The old world will kill them. I’m so much stronger and happier here.

Yes, concentrating on this helps keep me determined and keeps me going. Defiance is powerful. They went against the Dream and dropped it but I refused to conform to their weakness and lack of resolve. The Dream is more powerful and it makes me more powerful. Pitiful is what it is and pitiful is what they are. Cowards and deserters, dead and weak.

It’s funny - when the last few of them left (I don’t want to use their names anymore, Journal) someone said that this place was “like living in a graveyard”. Another - I’ll call him “Bitchface Faithless”, always scowling and complaining about how hopeless everything is - said “yeah, and we’re gonna die here in this dead space”. Graveyard and ‘dead spaces’? No, the dead spaces are their hearts and heads. They don’t have the Dream anymore but I’m keeping it alive and I’m still alive.

These spaces may be silent and cold but they are definitely not dead spaces. As long as I’m here alive and keeping my Dream alive that will continue to be the truth. Even when there are powercuts and it’s perishing frozen there’s still life and a Dream that won’t die.

When we arrived they said this place was dead but we brought it back to life and I’m not giving up or giving in. I’ve been here too long to just give up the Dream. It’s kept me going month after month and it means so much more to me than I guess it did to them.

I’m not going to let discomfort, some darkness, cold and loneliness kill the Dream. They’ve left my Dream behind and turned their back on the utopia we planned but the spirit is still alive inside me. I still have the Dream. Unlike them I’m free and I’m so much happier and stronger being here in solitude than I am in old world society. Don’t they remember what that culture did to us? Don’t they remember how beautiful it was to follow the Dream and build that Dream right here?

You know, it’s funny to think that this place was abandoned by everyone ages and ages ago just like everyone abandoned me and the Dream. We’re still here though. We stay strong and continue to live on. You can see from the structures and decoration that this was built to be something special and meaningful. You can tell from the wall frescoes that there was desire and grand ambition. You can tell from the immense scale. This was something important that was erected by inspired dreamers pursuing a beautiful dream full of hope and optimism.

I have no idea why the people of the past abandoned it and left it alone in the wilderness. People give up too easily, I guess. But I’m not like other people and I’m driven by the same kind of Dream and determination that produced this place. I’m carrying this spirit on and I’m keeping the Dream alive. This building isn’t a dead space and my heart, mind and soul aren’t dead spaces. Death comes when you give up. Death is the old world and they can have that if they want. They don’t really want it. They’re lying to themselves. They killed their own truth and were just too weak and afraid to carry on and live the Dream.

It’s a beautiful Dream. Hold on to that and hold on to the plusses. I’m tired and cold now Journal so I’ll finish this up here. Until next time, I’m staying strong and I’m staying alive keeping the Dream alive. Others gave up on it, gave up on this place and gave up on me but I’m stronger and more determined than them.

I’m free. I’m living the Dream. I’m alive, the Dream is alive and I’m holding on to it.

Gratitude for mercies and good bits. Hold on to the plusses. I’m living the Dream.

Short films and 6-Second Mini-Adventure Movies...

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 23:41:05 +0000

Hydrated! vine.co/v/bn6jIw1wbgL
— James Clayton (@james__clayton) February 6, 2013

Short films and six-second mini-adventure epic making…

Twitter launched a new app called Vine and I thought “well, this could be interesting and a really easy and efficient way to make miniature movies without a lot of hassle.”

There’s some fun to be had here and I’m going to crank out some creative filmed experiments. Enjoy this true chronicle of my quest to overcome extreme thirst and watch out for more 6-second James Clayton joints…

Pictonaut Short Story - The Path is Yours to Choose...

Wed, 30 Jan 2013 21:08:01 +0000

It is almost the end of January which means it’s high time I filed a Pictonaut short story. Here’s how it works: every month the Resplendent Most-Righteous Meister John Steele picks an image and challenges people to write a story inspired by it. It’s fun to do, I recommend it and every month I get carried away doing it. Lose yourself fabricating fantastic fictions, y’know?

Anyway, I was ultra-psyched to find that the first inspiral picture of the New Year was a Moebius illustration. What’s more it was Western-tinged and I’m thinking a lot about that genre at the moment. Ultimately I was inspired to write the following which ended up being splurged out as a sort of stream-of-consciousness mystic trip.

Mr. Steele gave this month’s title “Plodding On” but I’ve gone off-base again and titled my effort “The Path is Yours to Choose”. I saw something positive in the image, get transcendental vibes from Moebius (it’s The Incal and the Alejandro Jodorowsky link, methinks) and felt a need to do some soul-searching. I’m resisting the urge to spend ages going over it and doing a heavy-duty polishing job because that’d go against the authentic, original spirit of the thing, I feel.

Pretty raw then, here’s my January Pictonaut piece…

The Path is Yours to Choose

By James Clayton

“The path is yours to choose…”

The phrase rolled around. Echo chamber mind. Open vistas of expansive space awaiting. Sound of a soothing voice deep and sonorous urging the mantra refrain.

“The path is yours to choose…”

Eyes open or shut? No certain knowing in this state. Out of body experience? Out of mind experience? He couldn’t tell. Sunstroke suffused senses. The haze and daze of the desert dusk. Weary. Tired. Twilight fugue.

As far as he could see it was sand. Grains of grey, green and blue. Ghostly. Otherworldly. Unusual but understandable. Weirdness happens. Weird is the way the world is. Weird is where we all inevitably end up.

The edge diminishes and slowly dies down. Calming to a point where the intense anxiety isn’t so acute. He felt a little better. There was no pain here. Fear falling away. Now just confused curiosity.

Easing. Eyes refocusing and awareness opening. Acclimatising to surreal visions spread ahead. An open almost-void reaching out to infinity. Unexplored and unknown. Where? How? Why? Then he began to remember and with remembering he realised that “what now?” was the right question.

The present, engulfed by that all-encompassing enigma.

“The path is yours to choose…” it echoed again and painted itself across everything as everything illuminated out of miasma mind.

Clarity was coming. Taking form. Forms took shape. Three of them shuffling away. Departing toward the desert. Bold against the backdrop. Dark outlines drifting over firmament as clouds wisped overhead.

Lords in a wasteland. Ever-majestic even as they shrunk the further away from him they moved. The horizon called them and they plodded on. A certain modest magnificence. In the middle of so much uncertainty and ambivalent feeling he sensed something so strong from the trio of shapes striding on into the great yonder.

Blinking away his doziness and devoting himself to concentration, he eyeballed them and sought to register their movements. Mental rooting. Empathetic understanding. Linking back to indelible past encounters.

Memories of moments long distant came to the fore. Fragments in time from what seemed like lifetimes ago. Ingrained amber ideas. Déjà vu flashes of familiarity and that repeated refrain.

“The path is yours to choose…”

He saw himself as a younger man. Black neckerchief. Bags of looted plunder. Revolver on show, a shining metal menace in the noonday sun. Boots caked with the blood of a bank teller. Throb in his foot from the kick he’d delivered to the protesting man’s face. All around faces fraught with fear. Pitiful pleading and prayers for mercy. A community caught off-guard and cowering in the face of violence.

Out of his depth but not on his own. Strength in numbers and in the possession of a six-shooter. The gang around gnashed their teeth and yelled out cautions. Cats among pigeons. A small town alarmed. Danger swept in with a desire to steal. He was danger but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.

Scanning the scene and the swarming panicked population eyes alighted on an outstanding figure. His face calmer. Something benevolent and beautiful about him. An uncanny aura. Sublime. A spirit figure sizzling in hot rays radiating out of the midday sun.

Something supernatural about him. Alien in this environment, among these people. Mystery. And something is urging him to dismount. Overriding impulse. Unnerved. Hesitant steps across kicked-up sand as he finds himself compelled to confront this character.

Flanked by two quiet companions. Supportive shadows and he’s like a king holding court on a dusty splintered boardwalk. On the approach he’s overwhelmed by an energy. Some extraordinary charisma. Drawn like a moth to flame. Light dances in the stranger’s eyes.

Those eyes regard him and reach into his soul.

A surging streak through sinew. A shift deep down inside the guts. Wrenching. White flares felt within. Cracking ruts as a rivers of purity power through. What is this, this weirdness?

At a standstill before the figure. Luminous eyes glinting beneath the shadowy brim of his canyon mountain hat. Elemental. And all at once he drops to his knees before the enigma and starts to stutter.

Behind him there’s the loud bray of a startled horse. He’s shocked and reels around. People cower and flee at the sound of maniacal cackles and warning shots. Dark merciless hearts hidden behind grim, evil grins etched onto ugly, unshaven faces. All at once he’s haunted by his criminal deeds and the bad company he keeps.

Eyes down. The six-shooter in his fingers stings and he feebly drops it to the floor. In peripheral vision he notes the blood on his boot. Face scrunched in disgust. Spasms. He straightens, face up to the inexplicable man, unearthly and obscure.

“This…” he uttered weakly with a loose sad sweep of his wrist at the town around, “this… this ain’t me… I, don’t… I don’t wanna…”

Trying to convince someone or something but who and what of? Throat dry. He’s choked in the moment. Caught, but then comes the all-absorbing gaze. Light dancing in the mesmeric eyes. Enveloping everything. Then an ancient, assured voice follows. Penetrating pith. The world shrinks away. He’s internalised into a soul space and the refrain reverbs around the emptiness.

“The path is yours to choose…”

In reverie he remembers that the figure vanished. Profoundly affected, he’d felt immense loss and a terrifying uncertainty. He left the gang and travelled on. He chose other paths but wandered loose, wracked with demons and unease. Things weren’t right and he plodded on perturbed. A soul unable to find peace.

Flourishes of pain came in the present as past hurt raised its head as he watched the figure and his companions receding in the distance. Memories of misery and malaise. Years of yearning for something better or a lifting above his own loathsome disharmony. Weary. Eyes watering. History continued to cascade through his conscience.

That hadn’t been the only time he’d met the mystifying man in the mountain hat, ever-accompanied by his twin acolytes. Were they disciples? Was he a holy man? Was he a man at all?

He had no way of knowing but the refrain “The path is yours to choose…” accompanied the visions. In his psyche, he was an inextricable, un-erasable entity. Eternal. An all-powerful psychic phantom. Something shining in his soulstuff. Unforgettable yet unfathomable.

One time he’d encountered the figure outside a brothel in a dilapidated slum of a town. Whorehouse blues. Sleazy feelings. No pleasure in the pleasures of the flesh. No comfort in drink or music. Suffocated by cheap perfume, nasty spirits and the vile atmosphere he’d walked outside to breathe the clear night air. To be clean. He longed to be clean.

Shivers down his spine as he saw the trio across the main street. Astride three horses, they slowly cantered on by. Dignified wanderers. Clearly not sticking around. Just riding on through to who-knows-where. They keep moving. They’d kept moving through his mind in quiet, scared moments. Now the mantra passes through his thoughts again.

“The path is yours to choose…”

He’s back on the ground and out of his physical body once more. Hypnotised. Paralysed by the powerful presence of the peculiar gentleman who presents himself in dreams. Dazed distress drags him into imminent existence. Visions of something special. Possibly sacred. Something greater than the gutters and gravel he rolls in. Gritted teeth relax. Tensed skeleton slackens. He swallows hard and feels a dead weight drop. With a breath he feels beatific. Light dances in a man’s eyes and a shrunken universe opens up.

There was another time when he was dry and dying in a mesa. On the run from debts and personal disgraces but mostly on the run from himself. Collapsing in exhaustion he’d looked out to a butte across a valley. Miles away but yet still perceptible, the mountain-shaped hat and his cohorts came into sight. Across swathes of land he felt the familiar eerie essence. It was reaching out to his heart. That same song sounded. The same sentence sang.

“The path is yours to choose…”

Now, eyes opening he gazed out to the great man again. He and his fellow horsemen were leaving him for a fourth time. They’d never leave his thoughts though. Written into memory . Invisible ink blots pre-occupying his private thoughts. An irrational, esoteric connection that could not be cut.

Sweltering sands, rocky firmament and the haze of the horizon was eating them up. Could he catch them? Was there still time? There they went, out to the unknown beyond. Inviting. Freedom.

To follow the ghost who gripped his subconscious? To follow the mystical figure who surfaced sporadically, struck right through and seared his soul with those fiery eyes and soothing, repeated words?

“The path is yours to choose…”

Energy rising inside. Lifting and looking out to the open epic space. Infinite out there. A trio of strange shrinking figures slowly, surely travelling right on into it. Hoofprints hailing him. The holes in his soul yawning out eager pleas.

Movements in his mind as indecision came undone, knocked out by the revelatory vision of the wanderer. He breathed and embraced a truth, echoing out of time…

“The path is yours to choose…”

Badnasty Horror Horse Opera...

Sat, 26 Jan 2013 19:17:25 +0000

Badnasty Horror Horse Opera...:

Aye, hombre. I’m a ‘fixin’ to pull together a brute western anthology and am raisin’ a call for submissions. Get thinkin’ and keep your eyes peeled for updates on this new blog…

150 'Meanwhile, in an alternate reality...' moments...

Thu, 24 Jan 2013 20:30:46 +0000

150 'Meanwhile, in an alternate reality...' moments...:

Well, there you go. According to the sidebar, the Alternate Reality news blog I’m running has been going for 150 days with 150 daily bulletin updates. Cue nice eyebrow raising realisation moment of “whoa! I’m amazed that this is still a thing! That’s actually quite impressive!”

Scanning the archive I find that we’ve come a long way since late-August (in our reality) and got an excellent insight into the happenings, events and current affairs shenanigans of an eclectic array of parallel universes. I hope other people enjoy exploring ‘em as much as I do and find stimulation, entertainment and/or edification in the otherwordly headlines. I have no plans to stop relating the information I receive from alternate realities so stay tuned for more news…

Tech-Sketchin’… Doodling done in distracted moments...

Sat, 19 Jan 2013 14:00:19 +0000

Tech-Sketchin’…

Doodling done in distracted moments and attempts to generate energy as fresh ideas accumulate within the mind-machinery. Yeah, it’s filler art/meditational thinking work…

Squiggles done while watching the Boston Celtics… I drew...

Sun, 06 Jan 2013 10:47:04 +0000

Squiggles done while watching the Boston Celtics…

I drew up some squiggles while I watched Boston come back to beat the Hawks. This is how I pick ‘n’ roll on a Sunday morning…

Messages from Josef V. Stalin...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 08:33:40 +0000

Here’s something of interest, Comrades. You may be aware that I run the “Meanwhile, in an alternate reality…” news blog which broadcasts current affairs updates from parallel universes. There’s some wild and wonderful stuff happening in other worlds outside of our mundane existence, I tell thee, so I urge you to head over to that site and have a read.

Anyhow, in my role as the mediator between our reality and alternate ones I’m often exposed to the weirdness of other universes. That’s not surprising, but what is surprising is when my alternate reality reporting brings me into direct contact with peculiar stuff from this reality. The most unusual case so far comes in the form of direct correspondence with someone who calls themselves “Josef V. Stalin”.

It’s unlikely that the infamous former leader of the Soviet Union - currently a resident of the Kremlin Wall Necropolis - has an internet connection or is using some form of supernatural psychic energy to access Tumblr. Nevertheless, stranger things have happened so I’ll keep an open-mind. Stalin dropped in on my inbox and said “keep it going your doing great” (sic - English ain’t Joe’s native language and he’s more familiar with a Cyrillic alphabet). Complimented by one of the greatest mass murderers of all-time definitely inspires me to carry on.

That first piece of feedback wasn’t the end of it, though. The other day Josef appeared again except this time he had more on his mind and was eager to share. What follows after the break is the verbatim, unedited essay assayed to me by my new most prestigious follower.

This stuff might be the elaborate crazed ramblings of a deranged delusionoid high on conspiracy theory and grotesquely mangled historical fact, possibly also inspired to write fiction by The Man in the High Castle. Conversely, it could be the mindblowing actuality that completely unravels modern history and unlocks truths that have been obscured and hidden from us all. It’s pretty dense, a lot to take in and may require a bit of patience in the reading - why, for instance, does Stalin write as if he isn’t Stalin at the end? - but it’s worth glancing over. Make of it what you will…

“Just give it a quick skim and I would like any suggestions to better the story. It isn’t finished yet. Amerika
Nazi general Erwin Rommel accepted the surrender of British forces in York. A puppet state was set up in Northern England by the nazis soon after. With Great Britain out of the way he focused on Operation Barbossa : the invasion of the USSR. At the last second it was canceled by hitler taking the advice of his generals. He still had 1 more opponent and that was America. Hitler started to plan operation Bukle-wal, the invasion and occupation of America. It called for a massive invasion force 12 million strong and just as many planes. Hitler also needed massive amounts of supplies. He started to ramp up production on tanks, planes, and ships. He also forced Vinchy France and Northern England to export half of the ammunition they made to Germany. From June to January of the next year a combo of sabotage and constant battle broke America’s Atlantic Fleet. Hitler’s navy firmly controlled the Atlantic. The American president Franklin Roosovelt using spy reports from inside Germany, knew what was coming. He put the army on red alert and sent them east. When Hitler found out he was furious! He sent a counter spy. He found out that the spy was one Ezikel Romanov, a critical planner. He requested Ezikel be brought to him at once! It took 2 days but finally he was found in Bavaria and dragged into the Feuhers office. Hitler shot him in the leg and threw him to the dogs. Witnesses say they saw something in Hitlers eyes while he watched Romanov being torn limb from limb. After that hitler shut himself away and revised the plan. He changed everything. More men, more supplies, and different landing beaches.He didnt tell anyone but his most trusted advisors the plan. As D-day approached Harry Truman ordered defenses built along the American east coast. The National Guard, Army and the Air Force was put on alert. As America waited for the Nazi onslaught Russia seized a basically un-defended Alaska. Truman didn’t realize the looming danger. as Russia was moving into Canada as the first Nazi solders stepped onto America’s beaches. The nazi forces quickly secured a beachhead in Jacksonville. For 2 days a vicious street to street battle raged but after heavy fighting US forces had been pushed out of the city. The nazis started bringing in more supplies and troops despite constant US shelling. Brushing aside numerous attacks by us forces, the german army captured Florida and southeastern Georgia. NYC, Charlestown and Baltimore. General McArthur was assassinated by a nazi supporter and the American Nazi party started a guerrilla war in the Midwest. The USSR conquered Canada and her vast oil fields. Russian units started probing America’s northern defenses. America now had to deal with the Russians and the Germans. Nazi general Rommel was made supreme commander of Axis forces in America. Rommel ordered that the invasion force made into 3 groups northern, southern, and central. He ordered the northern army group to focus on conquering the north-east. The central army group split into 2 armies to conqer the central east coast. The southern one was told to wait for reinforcements. The american army was routed at the battle for Baltimore. After 2 more months the Nazis controlled the whole east coast. General Jake Featherson ordered all American patriots to resist the invaders.The army retreated to the Ohio river and put up a solid defence. By winter 1950 the Nazis hadn’t gained a inch of land. The German Fuher ordered the research on atomic weapons to speed up and gave them 3 billion to assist in the research. 2 years later the first German nuclear weapon was in production. About the same time the American nuclear program was reaching a close. Now the 2 countries had to build and deploy it. A German spy alerted the Fuher where the Manhattan Project was based. Rommel planned to attack Nashville and size the weapon. The first Armored division was moved to Tennessee where a recent attack put them just 1 mi from Nashville. They assaulted Nashville and seized the city. They also captured their prototype bomb, they used it on the Ohio line. It blew a hole in it and the tanks rolled through. The Americans fought back at Columbus. The Germans had to fight room to room to take the city. It took 1 month and 100,000 men to finally take the city. The Americans retreated and started to shell German lines. The city was reduced to a smoldering heap of rubble before the artillery retreated back behind american lines. Then the Japanese invaded the west coast. They captured the government in LA and the rest of California, Oregon and Washington. America now had to deal with a 2 fronted war. They entered talks with Russia, America would help enforce their hold in the north if they fought the Japs in the west. Russia excepted and declared war on Japan a hour later. Russian troops and T-34s poured into occupied territory. They also invaded Manchuria and mainland Japan. The americans also had Rockwell’s Nazi Party who was blowing up military bases and other local government buildings. The local mitila’s started to wage war on them. Rockwell was getting equipment from Germany and her satellites. When the Mississippi militia assaulted a nazi cell outside Biloxi they were surprised when a tank rolled out of a nearby garage. They were even more surprised when a helicopter rose up from behind the main building. The attack was a complete failure. The nazis followed them back to Biloxi and razed it. As attacks became more frequent the military became more concerned. The attacks were demoralizing the people and destabilizing the country. The military ruler of America ordered all militias to wage a all-out war to up-root the cells. All the militia leaders got together in rural Kansas to establish a battle plan. They were going to establish armies and swarm the cells. It proved to be a costly but effective strategy. It took 2 months to eliminate the Party. Now the militia had to help rebuild the shattered cities. Using raw materials they rebuilt and replanted the farms then focused on the cities. The Russians had made huge gains in Manchuria and Korea. They were fighting hard in the west and on the Islands. The Japanese made them pay for every inch in blood. The Americans weren’t fairing any better. The Germans had routed them at the battle for Springfield and were steadily marching towards the mighty Mississippi. The Germans knew if they could cross the river they would win the war. But all was not well back east. Learning of the Russian invasion of Japan, the German chancellor Adolf Hitler Jr. ordered plans for the invasion of russia if diplomacy fell through. Talks started when William Himmler flew to Moscow to negotiate a peace with Japan. They talked for 2 months until Stalin sent them back. Order 215 the invasion of Russia was authorized 20 min later. German troops poured into occupied Canada. As the war in America heated up the war in Asia cooled down. Russian troops conquered Manchuria, Korea, and Japans northern island. But due to costal defenses on Hokkaido russian troop ships couldn’t get there. So a uneasy stalemate came into play. In S. America Nazi-friendly Argentina invaded Bolivia, Chile and Brazil. Central America sent troops into South America to stop Argentina from taking over. Argentina quickly overran Bolivia and continued scoring huge victories over Chile. In Brazil they were stopped in the Amazon due to muddy roads. After multiple assaults and heavy casualties the Argentinians retreated to the Rio Line, 20 mi outside the city. A long waiting game started and went on for 2 months until a Panamanian-Brazilian attack broke the line. The Argentinean Army was routed and fled to the Andes as their country was overrun. Hitler landed troops to liberate it soon after. Not long after Argentina was liberated and South America was in Argentinean hands. The South American Empire (SAE) was declared in July that same year. The SAE invaded Central America soon after. They quickly advanced to the Mexican border. The Mexican presidente immediately made a alliance with Germany to avoid foreign occupation. In North America, Russia and America were fighting the Nazis and the Japanese. Russia in wake of the recent invasion by German forces, finished off the Japanese on the west coast. Stalin stayed in Moscow to keep pepoles morale up. Even as German tanks and infantry marched into Red Square Stalin stayed. The Red Army set up camp outside Moscow. Stalin snuck out of Moscow that night. The next morning he gave a rallying speech, praising the spirit of he Red Army. He called for all able-bodied men to come help liberate Mother Russia. Recruits poured in from All across Russia to help. The rosters swelled, soon 204 million solders were camped outside Moscow. The siege started the next day. Solders surrounded the city and cut all supply lines. Artillery shells and Katyusha rockets rained down on the city. Civillians started to attack the Germans with whatever they had. They would a lot of times crash cars set aflame into tanks. This did nothing but let the Germans know they weren’t welcome. Gestapo officers burst into houses and killed the inhabitants in retaliation. It only made the Muscovites hate them more. Soviet forces attacked German positions outside Moscow, a fierce battle began. The Russians had to re-take the Kremlin from the Germans, who turned it into the headquarters of the defense of Moscow. They figured if they chop off the head it would kill the body. They kept pouring men into the meatgrinder, they slowly started pushing the Germans back out of the city. When they reached Red Square they found it in ruin. The retreating Germans leveled the Kremlin and the battle made huge craters everywhere! When Stalin saw what happened he broke down and cried. He soon got up though and whipped the tired Red Army into a patriotic rage! They charged ahead and managed to capture the commander of the 1st Army Ronbauten Von Bismark just 6 hours later. The German Army started a long retreat after the Battle ofMoscow, the retreat soon turned into a rout and before you knew it the entirety of Russia had been liberated from the Nazi plague. But they didn’t stop at the border, they kept going! But back in America we were on our death throws. We had been pushed to the Rockies where a stable front line was established. Putting aside the minor skirmishes as each side tried desperately to gain ground, things reached a degree of normality.”

Whoa. If you’re reading this, Joe, thanks for sharing. спасибо!

2013 Optimistic Unicorn Power Animal Spirit… Because I...

Wed, 02 Jan 2013 19:52:29 +0000

2013 Optimistic Unicorn Power Animal Spirit…

Because I needed something to mark the arrival of the New Year up on this blog. Because an upbeat unicorn spirit appeared and screamed “Draw me, man!” and I did (really, really badly, but she didn’t say please or offer any form of payment so she’s got no room to complain). Because 2013 is all about positive magick energy and imaginative spirit.

Happy New Year to you from me and the unicorn spirit… :D

Some 'End of Year' Odds and Ends...

Mon, 31 Dec 2012 12:05:00 +0000

… And so it was that the year came to an end and people started gazing at their navels. Of course, when you stare into the navel the navel stares back at you and then everyone starts getting insecure. Stop looking at me! Is there something on my face? Awww, leave me alone, creep!

Anyway, I really don’t like self-absorbed introspective nostalgia trips (specifically my own which is why I don’t run an emo diary blog). Who cares? What’s the point in dwelling in the past? Plus the way we conceive time is myopic and misguided anyway (I’m currently riffing on Tralfamadorian four-dimensionalism/denying Earthly reality/trying to defy and smash a contrived calendar that imposes artificial constraints on human existence. Your mileage may vary so feel free to ignore me or throw rotten veg at my sci-fi-addled pretence.) Yeah, I can’t be mithered miring my mind in too much of that.

I will therefore avoid an epic trawl over the past year, then. It just was and life goes on y’know? Good times, bad times, moments where you find profound truths in Led Zeppelin lyrics, rock ‘n’ roll onward and experience a few major events. I headed to Italy and had my mindblown in Florence (I’ve seen Michelangelo’s David!), witnessed the Olympics and Paralympics, enjoyed a videogaming convention, experienced Monster Magnet’s Spine of God album live, made 101 trips to the cinema and, yeah, now I’m fed up of this backward-ass diary splurge. The navel-gaze is unnerving me…

I will close this retrospectacle with a list of creative activities and things I cranked out over the past 12 months. Next year I intend to be far more prolific and rock out with some fresh projects while, ideally, making a few existing and/or backburner ideas really catch fire. I have some ideas and inspiration bits floating around in the aether but that’s in the future to come and they will come as they will. For now, cue the music and here comes icky old stuff which I’ve most likely already disowned…

A whole stack of Den of Geek columns dropping weekly on Fridays, including my ultimate 2012 summary which is a mini-epic of movienerd self-indulgent stupidity that I’m actually pretty proud of.
I launched the “Meanwhile, in an alternate reality…” parallel universe news bulletin blog which continues to provide current affairs updates from other dimensions. This is my personal favourite blog project thing and I get a huge daily kick out of dropping in on all the disparate universes it opens up to me.
I spent the whole of March on a picture book writing mission scripting up a fresh manuscript every day. It was an exhilarating and exhausting experience, sometimes stupid amounts of fun and I’m hoping that a few of the 31 tales spawned will someday be illustrated up and published as print works.
The Nure-onna haiku tale from She of the Supernatural World project (a collaboration with ace fantasy artist Jenna Whyte) got published in the Homespun Theatre: A Patchwork of Fairytales ebook anthology. It’s an excellent collection for a good cause and I’m humbled to have something in among a magical mix worked up by some brilliant writers.
I finally committed to writing a short story for John Steele’s Pictonaut challenge in July and since then I’ve spawned a tale every month culminating in the epistolary Leviathan trip of December. See picture, ponder on it, pad out a story and have a blast doing it. It’s always a guaranteed good time.
I wrote up a battle for Andrew Blair’s freakin’ brilliant Fight! Fight! Fight! blog and pitted Adventure Time’s Lady Rainicorn against Blade Runner’s Roy Batty. It was way too much fun to do and I think I got high on scripting up fictional android-on-rainicorn ultraviolence.
I took part in Rocco Verdult’s right-on Signatureurope project and defaced a cultural dignitary’s signature by turning into a doodly squiggle bit as part of a pan-European collaborative art stunt. It was all very mysterious but turned out to be an innovative, visionary idea that I’m very glad to have played a very small part of. Creative collaboration is a cool thing and I’m always interested in it so, yeah, say hello anytime.
A wrote a review of the A Clockwork Orange iPad app for the Literary Platform site and thus dear droogies got the opportunity to gush about an excellent novel and its film adaptation. It’s also pretty special knowing that I’ve been published on a prestigious literary website and am now probably legally allowed to wear a cravat or something.
I knocked up some trash flash fiction and shot out a few nano-noir tales on the Pulp Pips blog. Writing hack misery started to get tedious so I murdered the thing dead.
I attempted to set up a comics geek-gush blog with podcasts, reviews and features in the form of Read It and Freak! I also killed that dead ‘cause one-man podcasts aren’t enjoyable (for podcaster or listener) and I wasn’t immersed in the comics world so, yeah, zip it up and put it in the icebox.
At Christmastime I invited the artistically inclined to Draw Krampus and celebrate the festive season by paying to the dark Anti-Santa of European folklore. It just ain’t Christmas if there ain’t a child-eating monster lurking around…

There were more doodly bits, some webcomics and suchlike that I’ve probably forgotten but I don’t care about ‘em and am bored of this nostalgia trip. Thanks for reading or looking if you have anyhow and domo arigato to all of you who’ve filled the past year with highly enjoyable flights of fancy and provided pleasant cybercompany (I love spending time talking on Twitter). And that’s that. There’s nowt else to say so sayonara 2012.

Yeah. 2013. Future now…