Showing posts with label Storytelling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storytelling. Show all posts

Friday, 19 June 2015

Google That Thing

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Google can be a light in the dark. Or is it?


Don't know the answer?

Google that thing.

Sitting down on the curb, on the park bench, the bus stop. Phone out. Phone ready. Just in case.
Always.

A thought passes through. Passes by as the cars zip through roads made of concrete and yellow paint. Little green men walking and red lights talking. Stop. A thought passes through.

I wonder. I think. I'm not sure.

Don't know the answer?

Google that thing.

Wandering the wayside of a canal, side by side a friend. You wonder mid-words. What was that again?

Don't know the answer?

Google that thing.

Spending more time on Google than doodling on paper during classtime or drawing words with air or on bath-tubs.

Spending more time on Google than listening to the tales told tall and wide by friend, family and street-side story-spiders.

Words come in many forms. Not just text on Google.

Look it up.

The voices are a countless dozen. Trillion a two.

Not anything like you. But possibly so too.

Don't know the answer?

Just ask your best friend.

Or better yet.

Make it up.

Add your own story to the world. Maybe it will end up on Google, one day, too. 

Moony. 

Monday, 5 May 2014

The Death of Books: Why Stories Never Die

Books are aestetically pleasing at times. And $1. If found at Library Sales.

 I've had a bunch of people tell me books are dying. That I should write for ebooks rather than with traditional publishing in mind. I've had them ask me why I read on my tablet more than "real" books.

I've had a tablet for a year. It's a less back-breaking version of my laptop or carting around my one hundred-some hard copy library. Does it replace my laptop? Nope. So why should a tablet replace my hardcopy books?

Besides, books are not dead yet. That's all I am going to say. Nor are they going to die any time soon.

But frankly, I think people are caught up in the whole: "books are stories and so stories must only be books," frame of mind.

Slow down a moment now. Remember, books are made of paper bound together with a combination of glue and string that I don't have the expertise to explain. Stories, are words strung together by a theme, a lesson, a plot, a character, a setting, something which makes them interesting to listen to, something which tells, reminds us, opens our eyes to our world, our lives and who humans truly are.

In summary: Books are physical objects which recorded stories for many people. Stories are the spirit of humanity which filter throughout our consciousness whether or not they are repeated, passed on or developed.

So, why is there all this crying and moaning about how the world is going to get stupider just because stories might not come packaged in tidy rectanglar stacks of squished trees and ink?

Then there's the whole battle between non-fiction and fiction (which doesn't even tip toe near the snobbishness of the literary lauders versus the genre geeks).

A Story is A Story. It is telling you something. It is making you learn something. Whether the lesson is smacked on your forhead with the name of Aesop, or through the biography of Mandela, the life of a vegan or the trials of the Fellowship as they take a dangerous tool to its destruction or the rapid-fire deductions and haunted hound adventures of Sherlock Holmes, you are being confronted with humanity.

It might teach you to think before you act, it might inspire you to stand up for your beliefs, it might open your eyes on another persons perspective, it might teach you to never give up and always hold to hope or it might make you more observant of your surroundings and the effects they have on you and others.

In short. Stories. No matter what label you stick to them give you a way to learn and grow. All without having to go out and fall off a cliff to know why to be careful when you walk near one. That is not to say people might still go out and try crazy things because a story inspired them to do it, but hey, that's also part of being a listener of stories. You might need to recognize starting a revolution like the characters of Les Miserables is possibly not the best thing to do just because you had a disagreement with someone. In short, you need be a critical thinker. If you can do that. Well, you can do anything with stories. Even the crappy ones that have Mary-Sues dropped into the world of Middle Earth. You might just learn how to edit.

So there you have it. Are books dead? Maybe they will be. Maybe never.

What won't die, no matter what form it takes, (how about oral storytelling), are stories.

Well, okay. The day stories die humans probably be long dead too. Unless there are other sentient beings out there who tell stories. It's possible. But that's for another day.

Telling stories. Always.
Moony.





Thursday, 1 May 2014

A Photo Story

I had a whole number of genius, deep and thoughtful posts that have sat in drafts or in my head since my last entry but none of them felt like they were meant to be shared. Yet.

This may or may not bee seen as having been due to a certain idle procuration of a couple Digital Photography magazines at the library a week back while I was mournfully staring at the only avaliable Writers Digest, of which I all read (and some multiple times). It was also in part due to this blog encouraging me to look back through my reams of photos in order to find decent illustrations since I cannot abide blogs that have too much dialogue and too little imagery. Apologies if that seems a bit hypocritical (I recognize I write a lot, and often in a scatterbrained fashion that ends up being circular).

Whatever end you want to stick with, the pointy bit is stuck on the fact I have gotten back into photography, and by relation, Photoshop. It's rather nice telling stories with just images and actually being able to listen to podcasts an music with lyrics for once.

Today the story I am going to tell you is (in technicaly terms) called Photovoice, except I am using it here for any social activist movement or community, other than that of my own Imaginist Mind.

A Traveller's Guide

Colour seeps from land long forgotten.
Pinches the heart of the soldier who never stops.
Until. See it reach peak rush hour. Today's hamster habitation.
In these colours. We swim. We stand.
Desperate for the shades of fruit bowls.
Our wildness contained within. Call out...
Hark now. Heraldry waves.
Watch as the colour cast of two. Equals back to one.
Let fast lanes fade. Colours drain off. Back home.
Return to those distant shades of shores.
An Imaginist always.
Moony.