Long have I contemplated the content of this journal and where I wish it to go in my cloudy, hazy future. Truthfully, this is incompatible with the direction I want my existence to take in future. However, there is a lot I wish to change in this journal now. And for a few reasons.
When I began this journal towards the end of my confinement in Shiteatingassholeidiotnormieland, a lot occurred to me about the content in it and how it was presented.
I Still Find It So Hard was meant to be an unfiltered outpouring of everything that makes me me. Whether it is the fact that Housing NSW has done me much wrong by telling me I absolutely must and have to see a doctor who literally made me feel as if I had been raped or my thoughts concerning new content coming out of Hollywood, I expect that
I Still Find It So Hard will continue to fulfil this purpose until such time as I can no longer write in it.
But the fiction that I have posted on I Still Find It So Hard presents an entirely different question. It needs a different kind of presentation, and I am starting to feel inclined to give it one. Please do not ask me why.
This does not mean that the fiction work I have already posted on I Still Find It So Hard will be removed. It will remain here and be visible for all who access the journal. But it, like future works going forward, will be undergoing some reorganisation. I have it in mind to find a solution by which I can convert all of my thus-far published work into an .epub format and thus offer it for reading through whatever device strikes your fancy. And, no, I do not mean anything other than .epub, which is an open format that any e-reader worthy of being shat on can read. I will not ever allow my work to be monopolised by monopolistic opportunists such as Amazon, whose practises with the Kindle market constantly border on criminal, and have in the past crossed that line.
However, that also means I need suggestions or leads from readers who might be able to offer either. Setting up a site where my content can be sold directly to the public (ie no Amazon or other such middlemen) is not going to be easy. Nor is converting the myriad of files in plain text or Microsoft Word format into .epub. So any person or persons who know enough to put me on the right track, this is your chance to look like a hero to me.
I am also tempted to create a Wiki in which further information about the characters who appear in my stories can be found. However, this will also require research, time, and eventually money. Again, people who have experience in this sort of thing, feel free to contact me through comment or whatever else I may have set up on this journal.
On top of all these considerations, there are a number of needs for both new journal and new site, whatever form it takes. Graphics being one. When I set into the place the graphics that are on this journal, I had a particular theme in mind that I believe most of the socio-political content of this journal still fits. How could I explain to the literal Woman From Mars, or the ISO called Quorra more directly to my mind, why I would tell them that coming to this planet is a really bad idea? That will continue to be the theme of this journal going forward, but the stuff I am doing in order to distract myself is getting a new home.
I am also still typing this out on my iPhone. I expect that my home Internet will be reconnected (for about the third or fourth time in twelve months) either in the last days of 2013 or the first days of 2014. Until then, I have only a very painfully small screen and a very awkward bluetooth keyboard to tide me over. At least where Internet stuff be concerned.
Do I expect anything I am going to try here to succeed? Hardly. I think the wisest saying I have ever heard, other than “it is the beginning of wisdom to call things by their right names” is that he who expects nothing is rarely disappointed. But there gets to be a point where trying things and seeing what happens is a very attractive option, too.
Oh yeah, so it is MoneyMas. Oddly enough, in the world where 99% of my fiction is based, this day of year has another name given to it by the Elves and Dwarrow. The Day Of The Sprits is a commemoration of the day on which the High Spirits (or Titans, or whatever name suits) sent a massive amount of spirit energy onto Kali-Yuga and created the Elves and Dwarrow. It is celebrated very close to the end of the Kali-Yuga calendar year largely because none of its peoples know precisely what day in the year this event happened, and the final week of a year seemed the most appropriate time to celebrants.
MoneyMas is a farce these days. It seems every “holiday” has to be advertised two to three months in advance. My birthday is in the last week of October, so to see adverts for MoneyMas going up at that time is most disconcerting. And truthfully, when the advertisements and decorations finally come down because the day is over, it comes as quite a fukking relief. These days, a lot of us are not celebrating the holiday, we are celebrating the fact that the retailers will finally shut up, piss off, and stop shoving the holiday down our throats for maybe another ten months.
(There would be laws against drowning people in advertisements on Kali-Yuga.)
Truthfully, when I write for publications, I do my best work when the parameters of what I write are set narrowly, anyway. When I am writing reviews, I do well at writing reviews. When I am writing opinion pieces, interviews, and reviews, things get murky in a hurry. That means I want to separate this journal’s primary purpose from things like the fiction.
I am sure I will write again before the end of the year. Maybe. In any case, merry fukk you, and a happy fukk off.