Let me open this blog entry by stating that I have no idea where it is headed. That's why I am typing it in a wordprocessor, I'll upload it to the correct blogsite later on. (writing? higher thoughts on consciousness and life? or petulant whining?)

Ok, it's probably not the petulant whining, but the other two are open game right now. Although I'm leaning towards setting out a rudimentary outline for the script I'm supposed to be creating in April. (April? what!?!? I work in public practice accounting, taxation time in Canada, April is NOT a good month to undertake something like this. Oh well, signed up, too late now.)


So here's what I have so far on the storyline I was thinking of transmuting in to a script, (it might work better)

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“Mike, we've got a problem!” Jamie's voice sounded panicked over the handheld radio they all carried as part of their park ranger outfit.

Jamie's voice snapped Mike out of the reverie he had sunken into while hiking to the top of the ranger tower on Madge's Hill. The old wooden firewatch tower loomed tall over the surrounding countryside as Mike broke from the treeline and started across the half mile firebreak line surrounding the tower. He hauled the radio out of it's holster and brought it up, “What's up kid?”

The only reply he got from the radio was a shriek of static and white noise. Odd, he thought, that almost sounded like deliberate interference. Making a mental note to try again from the top of the tower where there was a better line of sight to the dam where Jamie was supposed to be marking water levels and running the standard assessment tests on the resivioir that was the water supply for the town of Northfork down the valley.

*******************************

Not a bad opening, but obviously it's not in Script format. Hold on a few while I go and put it up in the right format.

Here's the next scene while we're at it.

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Jamie had reached the top of the dam and stood dumfounded, looking out over what was supposed to be several miles of placid water. The reservoir was supposedly complete inert, collecting the watershed of the surrounding valleys into a single body of water, the dam holding it all back, directing the flows out to the town down the valley, as well as providing hydro-electic power from the sluice gates.

Placid?..The questioning thought flitted whimsically across his mind as Jamie looked out over cubic miles of lakewater apparently sitting at a full rolling boil. What the hell is going on here? He reached out to pull the sampling station up out of the water, and he yelped as his fingers made contact with the hot chain.

Nursing a sore left hand, Jamie eased his gloves on and once again reached out for the chain to pull up the sampling station, realizing as he did so that the evident heat in the water was likely to have completely destroyed any effectiveness of the test kit. As the plastic cage came into view, Jamie sighed in resignation, looking forelornly at the melted twisted plastic remains.
Gingerly extracting the only intact instrument from the tangled mess, he noted that the temperature was a solid 100 degrees celcius, so apparently the water was supposed to be boiling. But why? What could cause several acres of water to come to a boil?

Perplexed, Jamie stood and started to climb down the ladder to the base of the dam, on his way to check the power-substation before heading back to base.

*********************


Now I have to figure out how to use the program Celtx.
See you all later.

Andre.

Refocusing the past

October, 27, 2009.

That was the date of the first post on here.  I just reread it and realized that while my conscious intentions of late were to use this place to air my creative jaunts, the original stated purpose was to give those pesky little voices in my head somewhere to be heard. Nothing to do with my super-ego at all, but rather a sandbox for Andre Nonymous' back brain personalities to get up, get out and play.

I have to go re-read some other things as well, if you read it and it's missing later, I've nuked it.  If you really wanted to see it again, e-mail me I'"ve got it stashed around here somewhere in an archive.

Anyhow, not into typing right now, gotta get to work.

Until later.

Andre.