Archive for December, 2012

Team Hunchback

Friday, December 28th, 2012

Now for a completely unrelated, ridiculous, not-serious-in-the-least note…

I started a blog today called Team Hunchback. (Does anyone remember that?) You can find it here. If you’re at all interested, it’s all explained there. Why did I do it? Well, it’s a mystery, even to myself. I’m just a little insane, tis all. You can also follow my Team Hunchback thing on Twitter, @TeamHunchback.

By the way I forgot to say before, I hope all you Blog-Readers had a good Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate. Okay, I’m gone! I have to do more Team Hunchback stuff.

Yours no longer sincerely, ~Onceabasementdog


A Pause For Some Reflections

Thursday, December 27th, 2012


My God, is it snowy out there. From my spot on the bedroom floor I can just see the top of a roof, covered in this fluffy layer of white, that looks fake, like a bad Christmas movie. The sky is utterly white. I remember once in grade two or something, the teacher asked us what colors the sky could be. Those unimaginative seven year olds replied, ‘Blue!’ and I said, ‘White!’ And the teacher looked at me and said, ‘No, the sky can’t be white.’

Oh, indeed?

I’m all out of funny. It’s just not there today. I had a panic attack/breakdown over the fact that I haven’t had any exercise at all in the past three or four months, and I need some soon or I’m going to explode. The weird thing is, I remain exactly the same weight, and skinny. How, I ask? It’s relieving to know I can do nothing but eat and play on the computer for three months straight and gain about half a pound– but I mean, I think I’d better start going for walks or something, anyway. I feel desperately out of shape and it turns out I can only jog three blocks in the middle of the night before I get winded and have to stop. Of course, the middle of the night has nothing to do with anything, except that’s just when I jog. I sprint around the block in the silence, with no lights on anywhere and no cars, and that satisfies me, somehow.

I’ve been reflective lately. Really reflective, and I don’t mean like when I go outside I’m shining with reflected sunlight. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot about things. For one, my evil stepmother got a lot eviller just the other day, and the whole situation’s been bugging me like a worm eating away at an apple– with the apple being my head, and the worm being my stepmother. I can deal with it, but not especially well, it turns out. I managed to get through the flurry of Christmas, drowned as it was in far too many pieces of turkey and so, so many people to interact with– but now that it’s over, and I can fall back into my routine of quietness, it’s all hitting me full force. I just can’t deal with emotional things very well, and every problem I have seems to be entirely emotional.

But the good news is, I got an accordion for Christmas, and it’s like a small piece of heaven dropped onto me. George Harrison, who’s in a band with me, will be extremely annoyed when he finds out. He said we don’t need the accordion in our band.

But don’t we?

(He doesn’t get to decide, heh heh heh.)

So look at it out there. Buried in so much snow. I want to go explore the forest behind our house, but it’s cold, and I’m tired, sleepy, and drained from everything, from my small breakdown and Christmas, and whatever else, all the little problems that add up. I finished a book yesterday and I’m annoyed because it could have been really good but wasn’t. I went to see The Hobbit yesterday with my dad and my uncle and it was incredibly enjoyable– if a little less epic than the Lord of the Rings ones. I miss my dad, I want to go on long walks at night and talk about philosophy and the state of the world with him. My mom’s good for talking with, but I’m almost completely sure she wouldn’t exchange opinions about modern society versus ancient society for an hour straight on a nine o’clock walk around the neighborhood.

I have so much more to say, but I’ll be here all day if I said all of it. It’s kind of refreshing to write a blog post that doesn’t have to be funny, for once. I can hear my cat digging and sniffling at something from downstairs, so I’d better leave and go check on that.

Yours sincerely, (for once), ~Onceabasementdog.

Impersonating Fictional Characters Is Fun!

Thursday, December 13th, 2012

Hello to all feathers, drifting softly through the sunlit air, coconuts on beaches, and airships caught in hurricanes.

If you’re on an airship caught in a hurricane: first, check to make sure you’re not just a reference of Skybreaker. If you’re not, then try flying above the hurricane into clearer sky. If this is not possible, batton down the hatches, or whatever you do on airships, get ready the parachutes or lifeboats, in case you’re flying over the sea. Send out a distress signal for help. And take a picture while you’re at it– I need stuff to blog about, thanks.

So, it’s a moderately cold Tuesday (or… Wednesday?) here in Onceabasementdogville, and obviously I’m VERY up to date, because I really do know what day it is and everything. Lately I’ve been avoiding my blog as much as possible, due to, well, stress mainly, because I’ve got like TWO DOZEN followers holy moly, jeez, where’d you all come from? And that’s a lot of expectations to satisfy. I feel like I have to be funny every time I blog, and sometimes it just doesn’t come to me. I try, but the funny plays a wicked game– sometimes I can write for ages and all of it’s mildly amusing, and sometimes I just stare deeply into the screen trying to desperately come up with a way to make something funny out of the word bookmark. Maybe I shouldn’t have been trying to make something funny out of the word bookmark. It’s just… not a funny word. Book-mark. Book… mark. It marks books, okay? That’s all it does.

Anyway, today I was getting into politics. I could like, talk about that… but no. I have something more interesting to relay to you, dear Blog-Reader.

It’s no secret two thirds of my waking life is taken up with staring at walls and scribbling sketches of dreamy fantasy heroes and then throwing them out because I feel like no one should ever look at them. (I’m probably right. Even MY eyes hurt when I look at them, and I created them.) So often, in the midst of this extreme wall-staring boredom, I do crazy things. Sometimes I interview the ladies who work at the local bookstore with my camera and pretend I’m doing a ‘documentary about bookstores’ so it isn’t so weird. Sometimes I dance in frightful, spasmatic circles in my room while I listen to Arcade Fire songs. Often, I take up residence on the chair in my room and gaze at the walls. Today, though, I held an interview– with myself.

Except, it wasn’t technically with myself. I mean, it was. But I was pretending to be this character from a Kenneth Oppel book. It was fun. I must be losing my mind, but it really was fun– I think I’ve got some strange, best-kept-secret talent for impersonating random characters from fantasy books, or sometimes from TV shows. I do a mean Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Anyway, it was the middle of the day and the house was empty, and my sister Little Girl of Horrors was out with my dad, and I had a sudden itch to interview myself with my old analog camera. I’ve done that in the past– conjured up imaginary characters and interviewed them. You don’t even want to know how weird it’s gotten. So I pulled on a black coat and assumed the persona of a fantasy character. I owned it, seriously. I hear they’re making a movie.


Yes, yes, I was assuming the character of Victor Frankenstein. Maybe that’s the absolute height of weirdness, but who cares? It was fun and as long as nobody ever sees that video, I won’t mind that it exists.

There’s probably something else of interest to talk about. Dunno. If you like books, then you’ll be glad to know I like books, too, and I’m reading this one called ‘The Scorpio Races’ by the lady who wrote that series that tried to imitate Twilight, except it was about werewolves. I never picked up that series, but The Scorpio Races is pretty good, so far. There’s something to it, anyway. I don’t like that the heroine is kind of lame, but she has her moments of coolness, so that sort of makes up for that. The hero is the usual teen fiction romantic interest stereotype. Calm, collected, powerful– can command man-eating horses. And by the way he would ‘be almost handsome if his features weren’t quite so sharp.’ Well, that’s that. I’m glad I know.

So, that book I’m trying to get published is still floating around not being published yet, and I’m still waiting for the possible rejection letter. The heroine in it is NOT lame at all, and I wish more heroines would be that way. They say girls are being better represented in books these days, but I still don’t quite believe it.

Anyway. I feel all sleepy and bored. I was going to write a poem about bookmarks, but all I can come up with is this meager offering:

Once I owned me a bookmark;

Twas eaten along with me book

By an angry book-eating shark.

There you are. ~Onceabasementdog