gullybogan

Dear Reader,

I had this brilliant idea. I know that it’s brilliant, cos somebody else is already doing it.

Adding Access Levels To WordPress (LUNCH LEVEL)

You know how in Flickr you can set four levels of access to your content? Private, Public, Friends, Family?

It’s neat, huh. That way you can decide to share your pictures of yourself in your pyjamas ONLY with Friends or Family, say.

How good would it be if they had that on WordPress?

It would be VERY GOOD, that’s how good.

Cos that way, you could share all your TMI stories *only* with ppl who elect to read them.

In my plan for introducing levels of access to WordPress, there would be a setting on each blog, up on the menu bar thing, that would allow you, dear Reader, to set your level of access to the blogs you read. That way, if i want to read in someone’s blog about their pyjama-wearing adventures, i could set the access level to “pyjamas”. If i was feeling extra adventurous, i could set it to “no pyjamas”. If i wanted nothing stronger than their stories about fluffy kittens, i could set it to “kittens”. And if i only wanted to read what they had for lunch, i could set it to “lunch”.

The level names need a little work, but i think you get the idea.

The key difference here with Flickr is that YOU, dear Reader, would choose the level of explicitation you are prepared to read, not the blogger. That way, you don’t have to construct this whole relationship system with the blogger, the way you have to in Flickr. And that system’s flawed, anyway, since all you can do is set the level of YOUR relationship with the other person. So you can say that you are prepared to share your “pyjama” pictures with them, but the other person can leave you only able to see their “lunch” pictures.

Which is Stoopid.

We’ll practice it here. Select the appropriate level of access you would like to have to *this* blog. I’ve given you a segment in this post at each level, so you can finetune your selection.

The Collapse of Serial Narrative (KITTENS LEVEL)

I read today in the Green Guide that serial TV is collapsing as a system of narrative.

I’m a big fan of narrative, so this is bad news.

But then, remember Lost?

Apparently it’s still going.

I have no fricken idea where it’s going, what is happening, or what the polar bears have to do with anything, but it is still going. Somewhere.

Ironically, the series’ premise is turning out to be… ironic.

The best i can work out, in the [main POV?] storyline, it is still 2004, still only a few months after the plane was pulled from the sky by that magnetic pulse. Outside of the island, things (i.e. time et al) have kept on going at an accelerated (island perspective) rate.

That’s why serial TV is collapsing: ppl don’t have five or six years of their lives to devote to following a hopelessly convoluted plot. Maybe on DVD, but not on broadcast TV.

The trend now is toward self-contained episodes that slowly develop characters over time.

NCIS is a good example of this principle.

There is no overall story arc, or, if there is, it is essentially immaterial, and only serves to move characters in and out of the cast.

I’ve been reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and it has interesting things to say about how we need to write for the web generation of readers. IMHO.

But i’m not ready to talk about that in length just yet.

It is an interesting concept, though, that serial narrative is too demanding of today’s blink-and-click audience.

That would mean that my grand schemes for a web novel should more realistically be turned to grand schemes for a web anthology (of short stories).

I need to find out about short stories, this means. There’s this thing called the “New Yorker Short Story” format, which Aunty Dot Parker helped develop back in the bathtub gin days. All i know about it is that such a short story ends up around seven thousand words in length.

I think i need to know more about it than that.

9/11 (PYJAMAS LEVEL)

Astraboy turned up yet again this morning, a-hammerin’ on the security door, looking for Sybylla.

Princess went to answer his rhythmic thumping, on account of how she was up already, and i was still languishing in bed, it being a designated sleep-in day pour moi.

Rather boldly, when she opened the door to this sexually frustrated young man, she was wearing only her pyjama tank top and some hastily-grabbed satin boxers.

She has rather pretty toes, and, added to the miasma of sexual frustration that Astraboy was walking around in, anything could have happened.

As soon as the door was open, he (thankfully ignoring her pretty toes) started ranting AND raving about wanting to see Sybylla, who had already gone to work by that stage. I quickly got dressed enough to front up to Sybylla’s suitor, and relieved Princess of the duty of listening to his ranting, raving, and swearing.

As soon as Princess’ toes were safely out of his line of sight, i gave him, as arranged, Sybylla’s real mobile phone number.

And – a saturnalia miracle – he went away.

Late this arvo, Sybylla rings us from work, saying that Astraboy’s met up with her, they’ve chatted, and he wants to come around with her after work to apologise for his behaviour over the last few days.

If he intends to apologise by throwing himself under a train, Karenina-style, i thought to myself, then i’m all for it.

Sadly, his apology involved him sitting at our kitchen table and saying he had been a “real fucken prick” and that he was sorry if he’d upset anyone.

I offered him a cordial, but Princess said to get out a UDL, to make him feel welcome.

I felt like saying, well, he isn’t welcome; i wish he’d just go and throw himself under a train, actually. But i didn’t.

So we played tea party instead of him being crushed under the 5:43 to Belgrave.

Turns out, he’s a thinker. Like, he somehow managed to get the conversation around to the Shocking Truth About 9/11™. See, it wasn’t really terrorists! Oh, no: it was all a conspiracy, dear Reader, to enable the Amexican Government to justify the war in Iraq!

Fancy!

He’d seen this film called Zeitgeist (he pronounced it “zeet geest”), and it was all very clear “to anyone with a fucken brain” that the attack on the WTC buildings et al had been orchestrated by the CIA. Or something.

<ASIDE>Like how the nuclear weapons dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were a publicity stunt by Emperor Hirohito, who wanted an excuse to talk to his ppl on that new-fangled invention, the Wireless.</ASIDE>

He was very empassioned about this conspiracy theory, almost as if it were his own idea. Or one that he fully understood.

I’ve had the refutation conversation too many times with too many ppl who actually *can* think to waste my time having it with someone who can’t. So i let him regale us with what he could remember of how it all works, while we nodded and raised our eyebrows in surprise at his revelations.

He finished his exposition, his second UDL, and then he left. Which somewhat amazed me, since i fully expected him to excuse himself and Sybylla at the end of the tea party, take her into her room, and nail her on the carpet.

And then come out, zipping up, and ask what was for dinner.

Presenting the Oyster (NO PYJAMAS LEVEL)

When he’d gone, Princess asked “was the relationship getting serious?”, by which she meant, “has he fucked you yet?”. I felt it appropriate to start tidying up the empties at that stage.

But i didn’t leave earshot.

« Not yet, but i think he has something planned for xmas eve. »

« Ah. A romantic, then. »

« Not really. Him and some mates and their girlfriends get together and watch Carols by Candlelight together, and the boys have to finish one can of VB each for every carol. I think it’s tequila shots for every time Humphrey claps his hands, but i’m not a hundred per cent sure on all the rules. »

« So where do you fit into that? »

« He said something about a “special surprise” he was going to give me while Marina Prior was singing. »

« Hmmm… It might be a gold bracelet…? »

« Nah, i think he’ll want to screw me. If he still can after all that beer and tequila. Which leaves me with the question as to how i should present the oyster. »

« Meaning…? »

« Well, i’ve done my bikini line, but it’s too late now to go for a full Brazilian, cos i’d still be raw and a bit bleedy on Wednesday night. So maybe i should… i dunno. Does he strike you as a shaved-pussy man? »

The girls then had a lively and interesting discussion about how Astraboy might prefer Sybylla’s vulva. I won’t bore you with the details.

I will admit to you, though, dear Reader, that the thought of Sybylla, fully shaved and knees up in the air, a drunken yobbo trying to line up his anatomy with hers while Marina Prior sings When a Child is Born in the background, wasn’t the most palatable picture i’ve had in my head all week.

It seems nothing short of a desecration of my friend, and i feel that i should do something about it. But i don’t know that it’s my place to say anything. She seems to be so set on having this relationship.

…

I think i will say something. But i’ll have to get Princess on side as well.

I think i have to say something, cos i don’t want Sybylla to get hurt.

Yet, she is an adult, and she can choose whatever type of relationship she wants, and it’s not really my business to second-guess her.

SO it’s a real dilemma. It weighs upon my mind.

All the time now i keep seeing Sybylla in my mind’s eye, stark naked and shaved.

So, you know: brightside.

Yours,
Gullybogan

UPDATE – 081223

What with Sybylla having successfully maxed out our monthly intertube allowance through her endeavours in researching the latest pubic hairstyles (NSFNanna), and the high likelihood of any posts emanating from me over the next week being severely eggnog affected, i might be a little bit quiet between now and the new year. If i am, it doesn’t mean that i don’t care about you anymore, dear Reader, it’s just a little saturnalian hiatus. I’m sure you understand.

That said, i’ll probably post a few times anyway. Who can say? These are uncertain times we live in.

Watch the skies, ppl; watch the skies.