Das Hier #29
And right now, it is trending scarily downward.
At this point, I myself am not even going to write a thousand words, which based on how absent the others have been means we aren't going to write a thousand words for the day for the second time this decayear.
This is so not good.
Even yesterday we harvested more than a thousand words on a day when the humans were celebrating a day of ballfoot.
Or whatever it is that they call it.
So why are we struggling so much today?
I have no Earthly idea.
Maybe the Earth is rubbing off on me and I'll soon be undeserving of being a part of our collective.
I'm not ready to say that is a fact, but give me a fortnight and I may have to resign.
I don't want to resign of course, but with too many days like this, how can I not do this?
Especially when none of us wrote this morning.
Oh bother.
We have the whole of the 4th quarter to make up for what has come so far, but it won't be thanks to me.
I am feeling the suck creatively as I didn't even like the drawing that I did that was meant to be included here.
And no, I don't think that drawing a new drawing is going to help me.
Maybe I should just go back to bed and weave myself a new cocooon because the one that I am using now might be spent of all its healing help.
Did I write that oor just think it in my mind?
Fine, the truth is out, I don't look human iin the head and I can weave and being an artist, my weavings are beautiful.
But such fair beauty is far away.
Oh bother again.
I am not liking this day at all.
I dreamed of a blueberry parachuting to the desert floor at the same time as a cactus teleported there just as he was going to land so that he landed on it.
Trust me, that is painful because cacti are full of prickly needles that are sharp to the touch.
And there was a sentient rod watching this unfold beside a tree which only made the whole dream that much weirder.
As if it wasn't weird enough already because who dreams of a sentient blueberry?
No, my being an alien doesn't mean that I dream strange dreams.
In fact, I don't remember my dreams, even when I've just woken up, as I did just before I came back to wriite, after supper.
Yes, I had a nap after supper and this is what I drew, which sounds unusual, but it appeals to me way more than what I drew earlier in the day that was going to make me leave this day bereft of my alien art, which I know would have left you sad and down in the mouth.
Or so I hope in the back of my mind.
But if that was the case, surely at one point, one of you would have said thanks for your art Sutheran Kimf, you're our favourite alien writer and artist.
So I shouldn't be thinking this should I?
No, I suppose that I shouldn't.
But at least it gave me cause to write a goodly amount, which I sorely need as I am far behind the base and our collective still hasn't written a thousand words today, which is a sad fact as it is looking very much like this will be the second day of the decayear that we will have failed to reach that tally which is just over half the way to the camp at the base of the mountain.
We are failing to write our way to the million word year and we are a collective of five and the good Petrie wrote a million words all by himself.
We have to stop this failing while we still have time, even though we are further ahead of the total than he was at this time a year ago, which is something, but is it enough?
Only time will tell.
But the narrative right now is one of fail.
And I don't know that we're even going to come close to winning the year like he did.
How is this possible when he's just one man and we are four humans and one very handsome alien.
Yes, amongst my kind, I am very handsome and I still chose to come to your world.
I will come to regret this if we fail to write our way to the collective millioncy.
"I don't know why I'm here, wearing my grandfather's sleeping cap, since I don't have strange dreams, but I am here and I don't think that I can close my eyes and go back to being unaware of what I'm dreaming, which is just the way I like it. And seeing that I am here, I might as well as translate what the blueberry is seeing because you humans don't understand berryese." Rod said,m sounding very much annoyed that he was there instead of nowhere, since what kind of futt dreams up a sentient rod, other than a fan of the Twilight Zone?
"I've never felt so alive! And it's the perfect day to parachute down to the desert floor as there's just enough of a breeze that it's refreshingly cool, instead of sweltering. Though the hour has something to do with it too as it's not yet nine and I've been up since five and won't go to bed until late tonight as I have to be up early tomorrow too, though not for something as fun as parachuting." Berry Sweet said, as he drifted to the quiet desert floor beneath.
But suddenly, the teleporting cactus appeared just as Berry was inches off that same desert floor and could do nothing but scream as he was he was headed straight for his outstretched arm, filled with sharp needles that would stick in him even as he bounced off it and fell awkwardly on the on the warm desert sand.
"And before I forget, I don't know what the tree is doing here since this is the desert and this is not the kind of tree that should be growing here." Rod said, shaking himself in bewilderment.
Yes Virginia, this dream is brought to you by the power of eggs and potatoes, apparently, even though eggs and potatoes are not known to have the power to bring this kind of crazy to life.
Or are they and people just don't talk about it because they are ashamed or something? People are weird.
We're not going to make it even close to 2000 words as there's less than a half hour left in the day to write and I am not writing fast enough to write the remaining words that I need to write for me to even close to happy with the kind of day that the collective had because I would have to write 923 words in 24 minutes to do that and I have never written that many words in such a short amount of time.
And only some kind of writing machine can possibly do that,
Also, doing such a thing would lead to stupid words anyway because even aliens such as myself, as handsome as we may be, aren't meant to write so much in so little time.
Writing isn't a race. And if it was, it wouldn't be timed. It's more a climb up a mountain, which is why we wisely use that as our logo. Or will, as soon as I draw it because I am the best our four collective at drawing.
Only one. I think. I'm not sure. We don't know each other well to talk with any authority about how we think, live and do. We only know that collectively, we want to write a million words this decayear.
That's enough reason for a collective right?
I think it is.
But what I know, sadly, is that i am no longer the right one to lead us to that promised land.
It has to be Franklin, no matter what Dalton says. I've lost the moral authority and there's no claiming it back. I've lost that confidence in myself.
Meanwhile, Franklin, who could get us back in the game because he has the chops to lead and write the kind of tallies that we need like it was nothing for him to drop two thousand words in the 4th is sitting on the sidelines because I asked him to at the end of the last month.
Yes! I am a fool of fools and the collective should have already stripped me of my leadership!
But they haven't and I don't know why!
And if I had to wait for an answer from them, that I would starve.
Luckily I don't have to wait for that, because I hunger easily and could never go the fullness of a day without eating.
I've heard that some humans can do this, but not I.
That's just strange, especially if you don't have to. It's one thing if you have no choice due to circumstances beyond your control, but that's only because you humans are stupid, cruel and shortsighted about too many things.
Though in your favour, much of your world has a greater degree of freedom than mine own world.
Yes, it's not just the shouty proud country that is a bastion of freedom. It's dozens of others.
But don't try and tell them because some of them will just roll their eyes at you and say nuh uh, we're the free ones, even as their country teeters towards something dark and terrible as they chose a dangerous idiot to lead them.
No,m it's not possible.
The math says that I have in fact written at that scary speed and have in fact gotten close to the 2000 word day and if I just bear down and write write write, pause and take a breath, that I will write just enough words to be happy at the end of the day.
That kind of output changes my feelings about the day.
I still don';t deserve to be the leader of our collective, but I certainly belong and will fight anyone who says otherwise.
I have alien strength and that's enough to beat more than a few humans.
But we are writers and we don't make it a habit of fighting so I don't think that it will come to that.
So while I will still be campaigning for Franklin to take the lead of collective, I won't be resigning from it.
I do need to write more earlier though because how many days can I write like this in the 4th?
Especially when Nos Glorieux aren't in the midst of a great winning streak that will get them back to the tournament.
Though at least they are winning mores consistently of late, just not enough to overcome the two eight game streaks of historic terribleness.
And now the day is done and I haven't a clue if I have in fact written enough to make up for what wasn't written earlier as it is in is inexcusable to have not written in the morning and barely at all in the 3rd.
But that was my day and there's nothing that I can do about it now because my people haven't made any advancements in time travel.
If there are any to be made.
Be well humans.
Charles Petrie
Date
02-03-20
Time
Both Untimed
Word Count
Word Count
326+1623=1949
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