Apr 282011
 
this was the closest i got to a dino photo. yes, that is an inflatable dinosaur mounted in a picture frame. DO YOU SEE HOW BOGGLING THIS MUSEUM IS?

Today I am feeling somewhat whimsical, and somewhat nostalgic, so I think that means it's time for more Mongolia pictures.

To perfectly encapsulate my mood, perhaps it's best I give you pictures taken inside the Natural History Museum.

I visited this museum because I wanted to see a Tarbosaurus Bataar skeleton, and say what you will about this museum, no one quibbles with the Paleontological display, which is small but includes a complete Tarbosaurus and the hands of Deinocheirus, whose name means Terrible Hands. (We're not sure about how terrible or not the rest of him was, because to the best of our current knowledge we've only ever found his hands; but one can extrapolate.)

Sadly, current museum policy is no pictures of Tarbosaurus, so I can only tell you that walking through the doors in lighting that can best be described as Soviet-era-on-a-fading-budget to find yourself standing beneath his gaping jaws was AWESOME, and well worth the cost of entry.

But the museum also has other … delights.

this was the closest i got to a dino photo. yes, that is an inflatable dinosaur mounted in a picture frame. DO YOU BEGIN TO SEE HOW BOGGLING THIS MUSEUM IS?

The Lonely Planet guide says: The general impression, however, is that you've stumbled into the warehouse of a long-deceased taxidermist, rather than into a serious scientific exhibition. Some of the animals have been fixed with puzzling expressions, as if they remain perplexed as to how they ended up in such an unfortunate state.

And I have to say I agree.

from the bear being reunited with his favouritest tree ever...

...to the rodent chased up an inverted autumnal branch by a - is that a zombie squirrel?

...to the beaver apparently determined to commit inanimate suicide...

…the place is, well, quite a lot of fun, actually, in its way.

Apr 232011
 
tactilicdeb

This year, the powers of Easter and Anzac Day have combined to hand me a five-day long weekend. Five days!

I'm using this bounty to visit family, and one of the things I've learnt, in this visit, is braille. And when I say learnt, I don't mean to say I've mastered even the smallest skerrick of it. I mean to say I've witnessed someone typing my name on a braille typewriter.

That, there, reads Deb.

Afterwards I closed my eyes and practiced running my finger over the braille … and I couldn't even tell where one letter ended and the next started.

Apr 142011
 

Whoa.

If ever you are offered the opportunity to pack up all your belongings in the span of two evenings, haul them across town in an afternoon, and unpack them all into a space approximately one quarter the size of the space they previously occupied, word to the wise: don't. Or, if you do find the offer irresistible, consider packing industrial quantities of valium into your bloodstream.

I have just last night managed to crawl out from under all the boxes.

Today's task was supposed to be to organise the desk area — it and the linen closet are the last remaining areas to be sorted and organised and made bearable. Instead I chose to run a power cord around the bedroom, so that I may have light at night. Luxury!

Normal blogging to resume soon. Ish.

 Posted by at 7:34 pm
Apr 032011
 
IMG_2721_550

Today I'm working on the faerie novel. Poor oft-abandoned faerie novel, always put aside when the world wants my attention on outstanding promises. It's going well enough, if slowly. But then, writing always goes slowly, these days.

Partly it's because I commit that cardinal "sin" of editing as I go. Which is really only a sin, at least for me, if I'm writing my first novel (so, scratch that as an excuse) or if I'm so stalled on the current novel that it simply won't move ahead. But I've learned that all I need to do, when my brain gets stuck in a negative editing loop, is to open a new blank document (a consequence-free-zone, if you will) and dump whatever's troubling me in there, without worrying about making it pretty or workable. Normally it ends up being an instruction to myself — don't forget she's on heroin; eyes? speech? reaction time? was one of this morning's notations. Once it's down, I can edit it with a little more objectivity and focus, which is of course the reason beginning writers are often urged to write first, edit later. I heeded that advice, myself, for my first couple of novels. Now that I'm confident I know how to finish a novel, I find I prefer to edit as I go whenever possible. Because in the end there's only one inviolable rule of writing: WHATEVER WORKS (FOR THIS NOVEL). It's finding whatever works that's the trick.

Because the faerie novel just presented me with a fight scene I'm not entirely sure how to tackle, and I'm still trying to decide whether we find the (fourth) dead body now, or later, I thought I'd take a break and give you all another bird picture, this time of Bernice the Black-Breasted Buzzard.

When on the ground she likes to run and she does it … well, kind of like a fanged chicken, actually.