Tuesday, June 29, 2004

I got there for 9:05am - the Oxford Public Library don't open until 9:15am and even then it opened closer to 9:20am. I was sweating already even though those tall buildings shadowed the sun. I raced up the stairs, two stairs at a time, leaving those lame-ass suckers behind. Raced to my internet terminal. MY internet terminal, d'you hear? The one with the only scanner on it. I parked my guitar case and my luggage down beside me. Started looking at jobs in music £20,000-£30,000 - what were they on? I was worth ten times more than that.

Some jerk had the audacity to ask me if I was using the scanner. I don't care if there are 'other' computers I could use. I don't care if some jerk wants to use my scanner. Hell, I might not even wanna use it myself. I said hello to my black friend Glen who sees me in here all the time and Glen and I had this long chat about how my 'work' was going. I took out my discs.

I took out my discs? Yeah, I took out my discs and loaded MY software onto that God-damn internet computer. It wasnt' powerful enough but what did I care - I had 3D models of aeroplanes to look at. Oh, I put a scruffy image I'd ripped from a colour magazine into the scanner to protect my own back, mark my territory. Nearly one hour later, I didn't care that that jerk was still sat behind me. I could feel him glaring at me. Trying to choke me. Wishing me to have a coronary. Stop breathing. Die.

I turned round just the once and saw the jerk leaving, shaking his head. What did I care. I had my internet machine. I was fucking plugged in...

no, this wasn't really me, I was the jerk who got bored and left.

Saturday, June 26, 2004

Well, this is fun. Last year my Severin-co-written paperback BFGS was a Number One Bestseller on Shocklines. This year (and for the last three weeks) the ebook version of my CHIMERAWORLD#1 anthology has been in the top 10 over at Fictionwise. It's currently at Number Three in the horror chart and still selling strong. This points to an interesting thing - Chimera might be a better improver of others writing, in the role of editor, than a creator of original works, as a writer. No worries though, we each need our role in life. I want CHIMERAWORLD to hit #1 next week and stay there for months. (update three days later) Well it got to #3 before heading down again.

this still bodes well for Chimeraworld#2, get your submissions in for September

Thursday, June 24, 2004

Since accepting the redundancy package from Sick Puppies (the creators of Ghost Master whch Empire Interactive closed down in May), I have been writing a lot more than I used to do when I was in full-time employment. I have also been looking for a 'job' as a prototype artist - a prototype artist is one who assesses the risks in any 3D venture and works with a programmer to iron out any problems; controlability, presentation, viewpoint.

Production in the games industry has to be run like a lean mean machine - a factory. And the physical act of making ingame content no longer interests me unless I am at the top end of it. But I really don't have the artistic anality to be an Lead Artist. I am not technical enough to be Technical Lead Artist. I am not submissive enough to go back to the coalface, as they say - just artistically twiddling the next texture, the next character, the next animation, the next mocap session. In reality, I have sat, assessed and interviewed potential employees before and I do know the people I'd want on my team. I could choose a good strong production team.

So, the role of prototype artist who passes already-proven risk-assessed projects onto the production teams is really intriguing. But it's turning out to be quite a struggle - it would seem that the big corporations don't wanna INVEST in that sort of Future Product Evalutation. Which to me seems very odd. You'd have thought EVERY games company would love to reap the harvest of the kiddy dollar, the grey dollar, the soap dollar, the fetish dollar... It seems the corporations want to bleed the curent cash cow dry; the teen to mid twenties market, which seems like business suicide, you gotta diverse and get the most out of all the market, not just the current subscribers by default.

In all honesty, I am actually an improver of other artists' work. I have done this before, improving animations and giving character to dead keyframes. I inspire the best from the best, I see the content from the new perspective. Improver though, mentor, that's an even more elusive role.

I hope it happens soon, I'm getting itchy now - and low on cash.

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

I have been chewing the inside of my mouth over a certain scientific principle in the last ten years or so, to which I have donated the name "the HC Unit theory". Nothing too technical involved, just the reappraisal of how light and gravity work.


Well, it would seem that for the HC Unit model to work (with light travelling in reverse - as a Universal fill-in "towards" the source of the "light" - i.e. not an outpouring of photons) I think there may have to be TWO gravities. I intend to call this non-matter gravity THE 'OTHER' GRAVITY.

The classic concept of gravity (little g) reinterpreted by the HC Unit theory is that spatial turbulence that attracts neighbours. The spinning HC Unit randomly generates an excess that Universal Equillibrium (my get out clause) always insists on correcting - the Universe races into the source of the excess. By this nullification method we 'register' atoms - an HC standard output is about one free neutron mass (a Hadron).

Now, in the HC Unit model, a hadron is a relatively stable item, very rarely flipping to excess. But when it flips to excess, it creates either clockwise or anticlockwise (I am not sure in how many dimensions this takes place > 3) spin - this is how we 'register' charge.

My theory is that particles themselves don't CONTAIN a gravity component. In the HC Unit theory the universe is multidimensionally flowing past the HC Units correcting imbalances. So, even though this pulling force is EVERYWHERE, permeating EVERYTHING, it's not gonna be strong enough to tug Mars towards the Sun, unless...

You get out what you put in.

Atoms link at the electromagnetic level, starting with the hadron. These little HC Units sometimes excess, causing charge. This stickiness joins other hadrons together and electromagnetic pressure grows within the system due to numbers. Stars form.


There still isn't any gravity. Unless you formulate a VIRTUAL PARTICLE. This virtual particle is THE SIZE OF A STAR and has its own resonance structure. When IT excesses, it forms a fill-in process that is equivalent to the size of gravity for that star. Universal Equillibrium settles the account by rushing in = gravity. My thought is that gravity, the other gravity, doesn't actually exist in atoms but it is a group spectre, the more you get to gether, the more determined Universal Equillibrium tries to settle the debt.

I would suggest that to test this, you'll find that the hydrogen atoms inside a star are working far harder than the hydrogen atoms in the depths of space.

If I work backwards like this, saying electromagnetic force is the HC Unit excessing (or overspinning) Universal Equillibrium; that light is the interplay of charge within an atom or molecule (remember single hadrons don't give off light, space is dark); that gravity is the by-product of planet (or star) sized HC OVERLOAD...

Maybe I have found what a supernova is? A supernova is the excessing of the virtual particle, the star-sized particle - the neutron star that results from a supernova is the non-charged HC Unit remnants - where all charge (and therefore all gravity) have been settled on a star-sized debt basis. One day a random HC Unit within the neutron star will excess and a dead star will live again - is there any evidence for this?

Has a supernova'd star ever started shining again?

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Even with my brain turned to maggot casings and the skin and muscle hanging from my decaying bones of dusty parchment, I still managed to win the DAD'S RACE at my daughter's sports day. I took part last year (when I was further from the grave) and won that, too. The choice to take part this year was an easy one - I'm dead anyway, losing a race is no great loss.

but they were like zombies scrabbling after my floating phantom - eh eh eh!

Sunday, June 20, 2004

He may be the dead rotting corpse of an ex-surrealist but Hertzan Chimera is still bangin' it out full belt. Written this morning from 7 a.m., corrected by the editor Garrett Peck and accepted for the anthology 6pm UKtime, three gut-wrenching stories from Hertzan Chimera will make it into the SMALL BITES anthology.

The theme of the anthology is 'things that eat people' and it is divided into three sections: zombies, animal attacks, and weres - I have a story accepted for each section. The stories are all under 500 words as per guidelines.

The book's proceeds will go to the Charles Grant medical fund - a worthy cause. It will be published by Lulu.

Friday, June 18, 2004

That's what the new advert from Peugeot (here in the Uk) for their 407 model says. It says, "Forget motor show prototypes with their interesting and artistic lines." It says, "Forget innovation in fuel methodologies." It says, "This is the future and it's not only gonna be more jelly mould than it was when they brought out the Ford Sierra (UK model) it's gonna get even more so because we have killed all the other moulds. You will comply." It roars the Borg-ish 'Resistance is futile' of all convinced-of-their-own-success corporations.

I say "Remember the Roman Empire."

Their ad campaign is actually subtitled, "Playtime is over." and I am sure they mean this as a positive message of the professionalism and foresight of Peugeot's dedicated design studios. But it actually comes across like a Dracconian bit of brain-nullifying. As if (once Peugeot has laid down its car design laws in concrete) we can forget about ever having fun with our toys again. And this saddens me.

The advert starts with a person winding up his car, a person crawling out of a taxi, a carboard Police car. There's a few longer shots where some VERY INTERESTING CAR SHAPES scroll by alongside the Peugeot 407. Finally a man pushes his 'very light looking' toy car into a big toy car box. Its a delightful message in a way, cars are cute. Cars are fun. Corporations love you and want to exploit your personal choice by offering you all the methods of transport you deserve.

It seems there's one shade of car grey and that's all you deserve. It would be very sad to see creativity exterminated from the driving process. But that's what this ad seems to be offering.

hey, I don't even like cars (well, other drivers) but if you're gonna ask for $15,000-$30,000 for a car at least let the buyer choose the crazy kinky way he wants his personal transport to work.

or use public transport; the train, the bus, the space hopper - d'oh!

Thursday, June 17, 2004

This afternoon, I walked around the bustling streets of Oxford as the ghost of the dead surrealist Hertzan Chimera. And nobody knew. Nobody spotted I was a living ghost of a dead local writer. I stood on a street corner with my legs slightly apart, like I was "at ease" smiling at the passers by and they didn't see me.

I was invisible.

Usually, if someone stands there on a street corner, with their arms behind their back, watching the pedestrians, someone's gonna look, someone's gonna scowl fearing me to be a beggar, someone's gonna have something smart to say if he's with his mates, someone's gonna fix their top, pretend they hadn't spotted you ten steps back, lick their mouth, flick their fringe, give you the eye - it always happens no matter where you find yourself, there's always someone else out there looking scouring, predatorily, watching for a social sign, too scared to just go up to someone and grab their crotch, breasts, ass, kiss them, lick their eyelids, unsheath themselves from the vaseline smeared underwear in public, tear out a jugular vein with iron-hard teeth, pierce a sternum with a piece of lead piping from a nearby church (there are lots of nearby churches in the centre of Oxford) and drink the gushing rod of blood, nobody's gonna carve your skull in twain in the centre of a crowded town centre in broad daylight. That doesn't happen.

But today it did.

As I stood there, my hands behind my back, up came a police woman. She didn't really see me, I was thinking she'll just look at me a bit funny then continue her beat elsewhere. She stood there, right in front of me, not 3 inches away, also surveying the crowd. I wondered what HER former self used to be before SHE died. As she stood there, I could sense her nylon-stocking proximity her deodorant-armoured underskin shining like mothwings that clung to my fluttering clothing. I had an erection by this time and if you looked down you'd have seen a little tension on the right side there on the inside seam. But ghosts can't be seen.

WPC Baxter (that's what her badge said) put her hands behind her back, her truncheon in her hands. The truncheon rubbed against my swollen cock. Her foot was tapping out some tune in her head. She brought her truncheon to her side and tapped out the rhythm on her thigh - attracting the attention of the passersby. My cock was rock hard by this time. She moved back three inches. Just enough to ensure that her utility belt rubbed against my engorged cock. A soft contact as she raised up and down on her toes, killing her cramps but exacerbating mine. She moved her head in a music lubricated way so that I could see the white nape of her neck, just showing it - that blatant.

Then she turned.

Our faces were inches apart - her breath was foreign, some spicy sausage sandwich and sweet coffee. There was the smile I knew she would give. The in-your-face-ness. She was short. She was a huntress, no doubt the corpse carrier of a dead tribeswoman. She raised the truncheon to my face and I pulled back slightly expecting the flailing.

I can't believe these things can happen to a ghost.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

I died yesterday. This is the soul-chained spirit of Chimera disturbing the eroto-ether with the dog-piss remnants of his twisted sickness. Nobody needed that warped fuck anyway. Better that he rot in purple-prose Hell with DeSade and Barbra Cartland. Better that the worms feed on his rotting flesh. Better that his self-made fertiliser is put to some use growing a tree or a potato plant or a bramble bush. Now that Chimera is actually dead we can all get on with our normal world doing our normal things with no concern for the surreal the weird the extraplanetary. Soon Chimera books will be revered as trinket's of purest gem on a beach of historically off-season dogturds and heat-of-the-summer donkey droppings. Now that Chimera is dead and will never write another word we can all pretend to mourn his loss and wonder what his other books would have been like. What would Chimera (the lame-ass cock-sucker that wrote those adolescent pieces of shite for all those years and gave it all away on the internet) have written, given the time, given the support of his peers, given financial backing from the publishing industry. Chimera is dead, forever may he stay that way.

'course now that I know how to blog from the afterlife, no one is safe

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

There's a new Hertzan Chimera interview just gone online at the Carnival of Wicked Writers.

busy busy busy!

Monday, June 14, 2004

Well, it's been a long time coming but the CHIMERAWORLD #1 ebook is finally available through FICTIONWISE. There are 23 stories of nastiness, pain and pleasure from some of the most-extreme writers in this Chimera-edited anthology.

chimeraworld #2's submission period is September 2004 - get 'em ready.

Friday, June 11, 2004

A brand-new online interview with Hertzan Chimera about his involvement in the CHIM+HIM and CHIM+HER books has just gone live.


this may be the last time I make announcements on public forums - I'll stick to my dingy little blogsit from now on

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Here's the latest of a series of book reviews I did for reputable review sites like ZONE-SF, FEOAMANTE, HORRORWORLD and REALLYSCARY:

TIME OUT OF JOINT by Philip K Dick.
SOLAR LOTTERY by Philip K Dick.
CANTATA-140 by Philip K Dick.
FEMMES DE LA BRUME by various female writers.
DEAD SLEEP by Greg Iles.
LULLABY by Chuck Palahniuk.
SLEEP NO MORE by Greg Iles.
DARK DEMONS by Kurt Newton.
RED by Jack Ketchum.
AFTER THE QUAKE by Haruki Murakami

Saturday, June 05, 2004

Just back from my lovely walking hols in the Lake District in Cumbria in the north of England. News today is that CHIM+HIM, the brother publication to the recently released paperback, CHIM+HER is due for publication mid-June from CyberPulp.

For those who are interested, Nevermore is featuring an exclusive HIM+CHIM+HER interview with 'yer gud self'Hertzan Chimera in their relaunched issue, due back online about the 10th of June.

Other news, The Dream People have reprinted the 'disgusting' Chimera story BUKKAKEWORLD this month. They're also using one of my paintings as their cover illustration.

UK website The Red Bridge Review are hosting the brand-new Chimera story A MEMORY MADE FLESH.