We here at Olivia Waite have but a few moments before we head to the Aquarium of the Bay. In lieu of a regular post, therefore, please enjoy this trailer for Octodad 2: Deadliest Catch. (Trailer is linked, since embedding does not appear happy with me today for some reason.)
We here at Olivia Waite have been researching the cephalopods with more intensity than usual, for reasons which will eventually be revealed. And since the demands of the Demon Puppy have so far prevented us from visiting an actual aquarium—though not for long!—much of this research has been in the form of YouTube videos.
Some of these you may have seen; others may be new; all of them are awesome.
The Octopus and the Beer Bottle:
Octopus (a really startling example of cephalopod camouflage:
Vampire squid from hell (embedding disabled, so here is this terrifying, terrifying link).
An octopus steals my video camera and swims off with it:
The trailer for Octodad, a video game based on the idea that you are an octopus impersonating a dad:
And finally, the music video for the song “Octopus I Love You” by Dalmatian Rex and the Eigentones, as featured in two of the above videos:
If I ever write a menage, it will be called: The Octopus Has Three Hearts.
Yesterday, after struggling through two hundred horrible words in my execrable NaNoWriMo effort, I gave in.
But I did not give up.
I stopped trying to fight my way through a book that wasn’t holding my interest or engaging my imagination. I stopped putting down words for the sake of a counter or a sense of accomplishment.
Instead, I listened to what my heart wanted, what my writing brain was yelling at me about. There is a manuscript I worked on for much of October, which only needed a couple of scenes and a bit of polishing before it was finished.
I opened the file.
I went back to the beginning, and edited through. When I came to a scene I’d skipped writing, I wrote it. Before I knew it, I was editing all the way up to the point I’d left off, and new words were appearing like magic between my fingertips.
Writing was fun again. It was still work, but it was work I would not be ashamed to tell people about, work I could encourage people to read with an easy conscience because it was the best I knew how to do.
The relief this brought me was oceanic.
Maybe the Nano novel will work better this afternoon. Maybe it could benefit from a day off. Maybe it is doomed to become a member of the Island of Misfit Books. But I have no regrets for how I spent my day.
Welcome, O Reader, to the final entry in this spontaneous Bad Poetry Week Celebration. Spurred by Amanda Palmer‘s example at the start of the week, we’ve since gawked at horrifying lizard-themed word-butchery by Troy Lumber, a cringeworthy WWI song, and and ode by the Cheese Poet. But lest we start to feel superior, in comparison […]
For our penultimate day of Bad Poetry Week, I’d like to introduce you to the work of Canada’s James MacIntyre, also known as the Cheese Poet. This is a man who cruelly and with malice aforethought rhymed “cheese” with “squeeze” in more than one poem. So please allow me the dubious pleasure of presenting my […]
The First World War is often remembered for the amount of poetry it produced. Alan Seeger’s beautiful and chillingly accurate “I Have a Rendezvous with Death” speaks for the pro-war poets, while Wilfred Owen’s harrowing “Dulce et Decorum Est” comes down on the side of war being absurdly horrifying. And then, sitting in the middle like your […]
Bad poetry is like karaoke: best when shared. One site dedicated to doing just that is the aptly named Very Bad Poetry, where I found the gem of a poem below. Which, incidentally, definitely needs to be a song — I’m thinking a kind of folk-metal combo, with a jazz flute. Reptilicus by Troy Lumber […]
So last week was a rough one. I know we all were hoping this week would be better. But then news came that Amanda Palmer had written a poem about the captured Boston bomber — and not just any poem, but a really, truly, unbelievably terrible one. Vogon-worthy poetry. She’s now getting quite a bit […]