Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Abstract Photography

The Fish Press is supporting... no obsessed.. with all sorts of creativity, not only the written word. It is therefore only natural that we publish photography on this very fine blog.

Innini went full retard and bought not only one, but two great cameras during the pre-holidays. I would like to share some results here. This time, I am focusing on the abstract and on the self-replicating patterns in nature. Mostly, anyway.

Enjoy, and comment if you like.

These shots are done with my Canon EOS 70D + 105mm macro lens
Motive: Flowers covered in frost

 These shots are done with my Canon EOS 70D + 18-135mm lens
Motive: The ice-covered lake

These shots are done with my Fujifilm X100S
Motive: Gritty Grafitti

Tuesday, 10 December 2013

NSA trawling Second Life

Yes, it seems to be true. It was all over the interwebs yesterday, so it must be true. The NSA.. the analysts.. the PhDs.. the people who sort of just drifted into a government job and had the sense to cling on to their chars.. They are in Second Life.

Your secrets are no longer safe. They know that you stole those dances. They know that you have no order whatsoever in your inventory, and that the reason why you go silent for long periods is because you are trying to find that nice hair you bought before christmas 2009. They know that you are NOT engaged in steamy IMs with neko girls and lycans with golden wings. They know that you are just standing there, trying to come up with something funny to say.

So who are they... these agents of secrecy? Do they walk among us? That time when you heard a camera click... was it them? How can you tell? They are PhDs, trained to blend in... to become one of us. Observing... Writing you up.

To spot the NSA, look for the following:
  1. They are highly educated and trained. We know that your first impulse is to wear a false mustache and a trenchcoat. The NSA will not do that, so look for anyone not wearing spy-gear.
  2. They will wear something similar so they will recognize each other. (NSA spying on NSA is simply bad for the budget. Despite what you might have heard, they will not print their own money. Not even the NSA can fuck with the IRS). Look for people with no AO, phat ass appliers or whip marks on their chests. 
  3. Do you have any friends that are overly interested in you? Keep in mind that most of your time, you are just standing there, trying to think of anything to say. You aren't really that interesting. Do you have any friends that always IMs you, asking how you feel and what you are doing? Congratulations... you just found the NSA
If you think you are being watched, here is what you can do:
  1. Disorganise your inventory. Put the hair in the "jeans" folder and your bdsm gear in the "dances I stole" folder. This will slow them down.
  2. Do not just stand there. If you have nothing to say, paste in random lines from the news or from a book you like. It will also make you more interesting to other people.
  3. Start asking others a lot of questions. Eventually, you will hit another NSA analyst, and they will automatically assume you are NSA, and remove you from the watch list
  4. Wear everything you can think of, all at once, to signal to fellow analysts that you are one of them.
Good luck!

Monday, 2 December 2013

Music we fancy - Utopia

It's a strange day
No colours or shapes
No sound in my head
I forget who I am
When I'm with you
There's no reason
There's no sense
I'm not supposed to feel
I forget who I am
I forget

Fascist baby
Utopia, utopia

My dog needs new ears
Make his eyes see forever
Make him live like me
Again and again

Fascist baby
Utopia, utopia

I'm wired to the world
That's how I know everything
I'm super brain
That's how they made me

Fascist baby
Utopia, utopia

Friday, 29 November 2013

An open letter to the American Psychology Association

Dear American Psychology Association

We have waited, patiently, for a response to our important paper.
We know, oh my how we know, of the work load involved in doing important science, as we ourselves are scientists. But to not get so much as an acknowledgment is, frankly, a slight to our reputation. Which, I assure you, is of the very finest.

We would ask you to consider the seething hordes of furrys and associated travellers who, in between frenzied bouts of yiffing, are asking themselves some pretty searching questions. "Where did I leave my neko ears", "why do the dry cleaners look at me that way when I bring my fox suit to them" and "how long can I leave this tail in place before I get toxic shock".

Our important paper answers none of those questions, but it does answer others. Mostly questions that we posed ourselves, to better suit our hypothesis. But you already knew that, and silently approved, we know this.

So, we are sure that you will be back to us forthwith, and look forward to talking about science with you, our fellow science people.

Yours in Science
Dr's Innini & Breen.

Thursday, 21 November 2013

The Innini Chronicles - Part 1

Over time, I have saved a few conversations. Might as well share them here. Enjoy. Or hate. Haters gonna hate, potatoes gonna potate.

Just read, will you?

[10:50]  Sabrina: Hi. Cute profile. I like cookies tooo.
[10:50]  Innini Resident: lol. everybode likes cookies :)
[10:51]  Sabrina: I need someone like you to be my mommy.
[10:53]  Innini Resident: I am a terrible mommy. I always forget where i put my kids. There are probably hundreds of dried little carcases lying around in cupboards and under beds
[10:53]  Sabrina: oooooooooo you are wicked. just my type of mommy.
[10:54]  Innini Resident: unless you want to be a dried up carcass, I am probably not your type :)
[10:55]  Sabrina: will i look like a prune?
[10:55]  Innini Resident: yes, only not so soft as a prune
[10:55]  Sabrina: awwwww


I noticed a woman with a demo skin and a tag that said : Call Of Cthulhu Clan
This is what happened :)

[01:27]  Innini Resident: Did Cthulhu go ahead and make another clan now? I told him that he was not allowed. There will be a talk when he comes home
[01:30]  VampireGirl: excuse me, who are you?
[01:30]  Innini Resident: What? Did he not mention me? He always does that
[01:31]  Innini Resident: Lets just say that he has special needs. I wont go as far as to say that he is retarded, but yes, he need assistance
[01:32]  VampireGirl: and who excatly are you referring to?
[01:32]  Innini Resident: Cthulhu of course
[01:32]  Innini Resident: Head of your clan
[01:33]  Innini Resident: Do you know his whereabouts? He left without taking some of his medication
[01:33]  VampireGirl: who the hell are you talking about? i dont even know you
[01:34]  Innini Resident: Are you not member of the Call of Cthulhu Clan?
[01:34]  VampireGirl: and if i am, what is to you?
[01:35]  VampireGirl: or do you randomly insult people?
[01:35]  Innini Resident: I am merely concerned about his health. He has not been well lately, and to be honest, he is not allowed to make any more clans.  Sigh.. it always end in disaster
[01:36]  VampireGirl: give a nme pls
[01:36]  VampireGirl: name*
[01:36]  VampireGirl: you will be talking in riddles if you dont give a name
[01:36]  Innini Resident: Cthulhu.. We are talking about Cthulhu
[01:37]  Innini Resident: Any way you can put me in contact with him?
[01:38]  VampireGirl: Cthulhu is the name of our clan, yes....but our founder is not of the same name
[01:38]  VampireGirl: though the clan's name is inspired by one of his favorite novels by Lovecraft
[01:40]  Innini Resident: Yes, the one about Chutie, I know. You dont have to hide him you know. Regardless of what he says himself, he really need to come home, take his medication and just relax a bit. He need his support element, if you know what I mean
[01:40]  VampireGirl: im sorry to say, miss, but there is noone of the name Cthulhu is i our clan
[01:40]  VampireGirl: in*
[01:41]  Innini Resident: Oh dear.. do we have to go through all this?
[01:41]  VampireGirl: sure, go ahead
[01:41]  VampireGirl: i have nothing to hide
[01:41]  Innini Resident: I could get him extracted against everyones will, but I think its best if we just play along nicely
[01:42]  VampireGirl: there's nothing to extract from me
[01:42]  VampireGirl: i am a vampire
[01:42]  Innini Resident: No, I understand that he is too big for you to conceal on your body.
[01:42]  Innini Resident: Is it vampire or zombies that does the brain thing?
[01:42]  VampireGirl: brain?
[01:43]  VampireGirl: no we dont do brain things
[01:43]  VampireGirl: excuse me, but if there's nothing else, i'll be going
[01:43]  Innini Resident: No, that was becoming apparent
[01:43]  VampireGirl: yeah, and its apparent you need your medications too, hun
[01:43]  Innini Resident: Have a nice and bitey day. If you see Chuthie, tell him to be home at once!
[01:44]  VampireGirl: if you see your psychiatrist, pls say hi for me
[01:44]  VampireGirl: good day


I saw a huge minoteur on a beach for SL teens/kids. 

[12:02]  Innini Resident: you are ONE cute doggy!!! :)
[12:03]  Minoteur: doggy
[12:03]  Minoteur: ?
[12:03]  Innini Resident: Come closer so i can pet you
[12:03]  Minoteur: lol
[12:04]  Innini Resident: I am near the fire.. dont be scared.. come closer
[12:04]  Minoteur: i am busy find a real dog
[12:04]  Minoteur: lol
[12:04]  Innini Resident: that even cuter.. he thinks he is not a doggy :)
[12:09]  Minoteur: are you so dumb to think that u can overcome ur low self esteem, by calling me a doggy, when clearly I am a different animal, or u just say that crap to everyone taller than u that makes u feel little
[12:09]  Minoteur: lol
[12:10]  Minoteur: thats not cute
[12:10]  Minoteur: thats a pity
[12:10]  Minoteur: lol
[12:10]  Innini Resident: aww.. so hostile.. and i who had decided to wait a bit before i neutred you
[12:10]  Minoteur: I am hostile, I am sarcastic
[12:10]  Minoteur: lol
[12:11]  Minoteur: u moron
[12:11]  Innini Resident: try not saying "lol" all the time.. it kinda ruins the effect
[12:11]  Minoteur: thats the stupidest rp ever
[12:11]  Minoteur: and btw
[12:12]  Minoteur: I am not trying to achieve any effect
[12:12]  Minoteur: I just want u to stop bothering me
[12:12]  Innini Resident: that is VERY funny.. did you think this was rp? dear god..
[12:12]  Minoteur: cuz obviosly I am not interested
[12:12]  Innini Resident: you must be playing in gor, they have a terrible taste for rp
[12:12]  Minoteur: ok
[12:12]  Minoteur: good
[12:12]  Minoteur: go rp with someone u like
[12:13]  Minoteur: i dont really care
[12:13]  Innini Resident: of course you care. this conversation is proof of that. silly dog
[12:18]  Minoteur: i am just curious, in what twisted way y are fucked up
[12:19]  Minoteur: cuz u are one of a kind, u are special, as the psychiatrist will tell you
[12:19]  Minoteur: lol
[12:20]  Minoteur: dont worry I think there is someone fucked up just like u, so u can feel normal
[12:20]  Minoteur: lol
[12:20]  Minoteur: when u are with him her
[12:20]  Minoteur: lol
[12:20]  Innini Resident: You are curious because you are a little dog who crave my attention. nothing more, or less. and do stop with the "lol". it is as out of character as you at this beach
[12:20]  Minoteur: who cares
[12:20]  Minoteur: well
[12:21]  Minoteur: I have the attention of 3 other women, right now,  but I am not calling them fucked up,
[12:22]  Innini Resident: That is amazing. truly. and still you are here, seeking my attention. Tell you what, come here and kneel to me, then i will pet you and forgive you this sillyness
[12:23]  Minoteur: that is amaizing, I said that I am just curious, and still u manage to twisted that somehow u are under control
[12:23]  Minoteur: lol
[12:23]  Minoteur: ur brain jjust choses to ignores
[12:23]  Minoteur: some stuff
[12:24]  Minoteur: doestn it
[12:24]  Minoteur: lol
[12:24]  Minoteur: I dont know even where are u and what u look like
[12:24]  Minoteur: are u male or female?
[12:24]  Innini Resident: so its true? dogs cant look up?
[12:25]  Minoteur: u should find a talking dog and ask it
[12:25]  Minoteur: lol
[12:25]  Minoteur: cant help u
[12:26]  Innini Resident: Denial is very hard to overcome. But you can do it with the proper motivation
[12:26]  Minoteur: well u can call me a horse too, but still I am gonna be bull for everyone else beside u
[12:26]  Minoteur: lol
[12:27]  Innini Resident: you can be a bulldog or a poodle. matters little to me as long as you kneel to me
[12:27]  Innini Resident: you know you want to
[12:28]  Minoteur: well apparently I am not kneeling before u
[12:28]  Minoteur: lol
[12:28]  Minoteur: neither I am a dog
[12:28]  Minoteur: so u are just delusional
[12:28]  Innini Resident: are those "lol"s the equivalent of nervous ticks?
[12:28]  Innini Resident: are you scared?
[12:29]  Minoteur: its just sarcasm, are u familiar with the concept?
[12:29]  Minoteur: lol

[12:29]  Innini Resident: Yes, I invented it. I didnt add many "lol"s to it though

Thursday, 14 November 2013

An investigation into the prevalence, causes and effects of totemic animal identification and species dysphoria

We feel this most important paper should be readily available to all, so to that end, we are posting it here on our blog. I'm sure you will return to it again and again, each time discovering a new insight, each time drawing fresh inspiration from this briming well of pure science.

An investigation into the prevalence, causes and effects of totemic animal identification and species dysphoria

Monday, 11 November 2013

Music that takes our fancy...

Now and then we will offer up a link to music we like, and today my head is full of this song. Caution, addictive... Hozier, Take me to Church.

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

The Siren Sings To Ingrid

One of the nice things about knowing people who are creative, is being able to steal ideas from them.
Almost as much fun, is coming up with an idea resulting from a silly conversation.

Innini and I set each other a sort of challange. To write a story, but that it had to pertain, roughly, to Halloween.

It had to be set in Norway, had to incorporate the fishing industry, and it had to have a mermaid in there somewhere.

Easy peasy!

We didn't quite meet the Halloween deadline obviously, but that wasn't important.

What was interesting, was the different style and approach used.

My story, is fiction, and written with a particular cadence of speech and thought that differs very much from my own.

Innini's story, about which she will explain a little more in her post, is true, in that everything that happens, actually did happen.

And, it's written in a nice, flowing natural style.

But why don't you make up your own mind, and read our stories for yourself?

Diary of Ingrid Engelstad, Fisheries officer, Narvik office.
My name is Ingrid Engelstad, and this is my diary.
I have never kept a diary before, so, this is new.
I think I will try and write in it as often as I can, perhaps not every day, because that may not be possible.
And, sometimes I will forget, I sometimes forget about new things, until something reminds me.

September 3rd, Tuesday 
I live in Narvik, but I am not from here. I was born on a farm near Borkenes.
When I was 10 my parents were in a car accident, and they died. My uncle took over our farm.
I did not like my uncle, so, I left to come live with my second cousins here in Narvik, when I was 13.
I have been here ever since. I like living here, most of the time. I am married but I do not have any children, I do not think we will have any now.
My older brother still lives on the farm, and a few years ago he made my uncle leave. It caused a lot of trouble, and I was happy I was not involved.
My brother was angry when I did not help him, and now he does not talk to me.
That is a shame, as I miss him and I miss going to the farm to visit.

September 12th, Thursday
Today I went out with Elisabeth. I work with her sometimes, and get on well with her, she is a friend. I am her supervisor but, we don't work like that really.
We spent the day doing the count on the Lakselv river, it was a bit boring but Elisabeth makes me laugh with her funny comments, so I didn't mind too much.
Some Sundays I ask her to come to dinner, and I am always glad when she does. We enjoy her company.

September 14th, Saturday 
I am tired today. I did not sleep well, because of my nightmares, which I sometimes have. They can make me upset, and it takes a while to relax again so I can go back to sleep. Sometimes I just can't, and I have to get up.
My husband gets upset too, he says it scares him. I wish I could stop having the nightmares but, they just happen. Nobody can control what they dream about. The nightmares are usually all about the same thing. I am in the car with my parents and the truck hits us. I was hurt but not too much, my parents were though. I think my father died straight away, but I know my Mother did not. I hate having those dreams.

September 23rd, Monday 
Something strange happened today. I was taking samples at the shore, near Beisfjord, and I think I saw something. I'm not sure what it was, it looked like a seal of some sort, but it was unusual. I tried to take a picture but it was gone by the time I was ready.
I felt very tired all of a sudden, and had to sit down on the sand. I sat there for a while, I was daydreaming I think, I thought I heard something too.
Maybe I've been working out here alone for too long haha! If Elisabeth was there she would have made fun of me I know. So, I don't think I'll mention it to her.

October 11th, Friday 
It has been a difficult week, and I'm glad it's over. This is a very busy time of year for me, and I have to meet twice a week with the off-shore people.
That can be hard, because they have a bad attitude, or at least I think so. But it has to be done so I do the best I can.
By right, my manager should do this, he is the liaison officer. I think they get me to do it because I am patient and do not get frustrated.
Maybe I don't show it, but I think I get as frustrated as anyone else.
I was late home this evening, I thought I would go out to Beisfjord before I finished up. I was there a while, until it became to dark to do anything.
I did not see anything this time. But I did hear that sound again, and I stayed listening for, maybe an hour. It is hard to describe the sound, a sort of keening but in ways it sounds like music, a song, a nice song. I wish I knew where it came from, I think I must find out if I can.
I thought my husband would be annoyed that I was so late but he was not, thankfully.

October 17th, Friday 
I have had nightmares every night this week. It has been difficult, I am very tired and my husband is sleeping in the other bedroom now.
I find this very upsetting. When I wake up from the bad dreams, I am alone, and it feels even worse.
I have been in the office doing the quarterly logs and reports, it is taking up all my time, and I have not been out. I miss that, it's the part of the job I like best. Elisabeth should be helping me but she has work going on at her home so she has to leave a little early most days, while I have to stay late.
I cover for her, as best I can, even though it is making things hard for me.

October 18th, Saturday 
It is 3:45, I cannot sleep now. I dreamt of it again, but this time it was worse than usual. Most times I wake up, sort of early into the scene inside the car, but tonight I could not. It was as if the nightmare held me prisoner, and did not allow me to wake up and escape until it had finished with me.
My Father is half way through the windscreen and is not moving. The car on its side and pointing sort of upwards against the steep bank at the road side, and has crushed his upper body. I am trapped in the back of the car, the seats have moved back and I am held in place, my leg is broken. There is a lot of noise, engine noise, the truck is hard against the car and it's engine is still running, I can smell it, taste it almost, that hot metal and diesel odor.
My Mothers head is turned back towards me, she is looking at me, she cannot talk, but she is blinking, slowly. The dash board is against her and the steering column has impaled her, it is sticking out through the back of her seat. she blinks and tries to say something to me but only blood comes out. It falls on me and I am covered in it, I think I am screaming and soon I cannot see anymore, my eyes are full of her blood, it is on my face and in my mouth too.
I wish I could stop dreaming of this.

October 21st, Monday 
Today I got a letter from my regional manager. In it she states concerns about my work, that my reports and bag counts are being investigated.
I am very confused about this, because I am careful in my work and take it very seriously. I do not do what some officers do and make a best guess estimate. I know my work is good.
So, at lunch time I went out to Beisfjord. I feel like this is the only place I can feel at peace now, because of what is happening at work and because home life is not good either. We are arguing a lot, and I do not know why. I hate arguing and try to make things ok but, my husband is unhappy and will not listen to me.
I went to the edge of the water and waited a while, it wasn't long before I heard it. For a while it was as if I were asleep, without nightmares, and I wanted to go out into the water to meet it, or something, it is hard to explain. 
I felt much better afterwards, and had an idea about work, so, I will do some investigations of my own tomorrow, and see what I can find.

October 28th, Wednesday 
I now have no doubt in my mind, that my work has been altered before being logged. I always keep my own records and drafts. They do not tally with what the regional office has received. Mistakes are made, of course, but not on this scale. If this situation is allowed to stand, I may be fired, on suspicion of altering records to favour or benefit commercial interests.
I think I have enough of my own data to counter the investigation, in fact I am sure of it. But I do not want to do this until I find out why this has happened, and who could have done it.
I have also realised, that I do not have nightmares for at least a week, after I have visited Beisfjord.
This is also something I must also investigate.

Novermber 11th, Monday 
It has been 2 weeks since I wrote here. Strange things have happened, maybe I should not write them down. But keeping this diary has been good for me, and helps me think about things more clearly.
I spoke to my husband about the difficulty I have been going through at work. I was surprised when he was not supportive. We began arguing again, but before it got very bad I left the house.
Of course, I drove to Beisfjord. It was night time but there was still a lot of light, sometimes it does not get truly dark here at night.
I parked the car and got out, and began to hear the song as I walked from the woods to the shore. By the time I was at the water it was loud, in my ears at least, louder and nicer than ever before. I did not pause to stop and walked into the sea.
The water was soon up over my waist, but then I could not go any further because of a thick tangle of kelp. It must have been cold, but I did not feel it.
I paused there, not knowing what to do next, and then she came to me. 
She was terrible and beautiful. Her skin was the colour of that of a drowned corpse, a leeched and pickled white. Her eyes were a solid black, no pupil or iris to be seen, reflecting the pale light like fresh pitch. Thin grey lips stretched across a mouth too wide, she smiled at me, and it seemed her maw was packed with needle like teeth, all askew much like one of those creatures that live down in the far depths. She rose higher from the water, the seaweed clinging to her, and stretched out her arms to embrace me. I could see through her awful features to a beauty beneath, something ancient, an undying lust and hunger, an overwhelming loneliness. Her mouth opened, wide, almost unhinging her jaw it seemed, as she embraced me and leaned to what I knew would be a first and final kiss. I closed my eyes, I welcomed it.
But she stopped, and when I opened my eyes again she was looking into them, I could feel her pushing into my mind, ransacking it somehow. A cold black tongue slid from her still open mouth and touched against my face, tasting, touching my eyes, my forehead, lapping against my skin, tasting something, relishing it but...the song changed and now became wistful, but...just as enticing. I felt her release me but I stayed her hands, and for a long minute I saw what I could only think of as surprise and some delight in her savage eyes.
When I came to my senses I was back ashore. I do not remember returning. I began to feel terribly cold almost immediately, and the song was getting fainter all the while. I stayed there long enough to hear it fade completely, before turning and making my way back to where I had parked the car.
I sat inside and begun to shiver violently, barely able to turn the key and start the engine, I had to wait until the heater warmed me enough so that I could drive safely.

November 19th, Tuesday
I have not been out to the sea for a week, but, when I sleep, I fall asleep to the sound of her singing.
And I have not had my nightmare since.

November 21st, Thursday
I had lunch today with Elisabeth, and I'm glad I did. It felt so good to have someone I can talk to about my work problems. I did not go through every detail but just told her I had been questioned over the last count on the Lakselv . I wanted to know if she had kept any paperwork or notes, but she did not.
She was getting cross with herself, because this would have helped me. But I told her it was ok, that I had my own notes at home and that they would be enough.
I have already been through the issue with my direct manager, and showed him all my notes and back-up data. He agreed with me and is in contact with the regional office, to clear things up. It is a huge relief for me. I feel better than I have for a long time, at work at least.
Things are still bad at home, I am trying my best, but nothing seems to work, I don't know what to do. It's as if he cannot stand to be around me anymore, it breaks my heart because I still love him so much.

November 24th, Sunday 
Last night, I was feeling restless and could not sleep. I got up and went to the spare room I use as an office sometimes. I knew straight away that someone had been in there, things were not as I had left them. Sitting at my desk I looked at the paper tray I use. My details of the last count were uppermost and I did not leave them in that order.
I sat there for some time, looking at the pieces of paper I had taken from the tray, and had in my hand. I could see where the staple in the corner had been removed, and reapplied. I could see that the papers had not been laid evenly along both sides and where a few were sticking out a little, something I hate, even though I know it is not important.
And I thought for a long time about what it meant, and I could not help but weep.

November 25th, Monday 
I sat by the waters edge today, and turned everything over in my mind again and again. Her song flowed 'round me all the while.
After a while it was as if it was talking to me, and when I listened properly, she told me what I might do, if I wanted to.

November 26th, Tuesday 
Today I told Elisabeth that I had come close to finding out what had happened with my reports and would soon know how it had happened.
She wanted to know straight away but I did not tell her.
Instead I said that I had somewhere to visit, and what I would find there would provide the last piece of this strange puzzle.
After work, I got into my car and drove as if for home, but after a kilometer I turned and drove out towards Beisfjord.
When I got there, I parked my car and got out, and went into the trees a little distance, and waited.
Within a few minutes, Elisabeth's car pulled up alongside mine. When she got out, I let her look around for a few seconds before emerging and calling to her.
She was a little surprised I think but she didn't say so. Instead she said she was worried about me, that she had followed me
and wanted to help if she could.
I told her if she really wanted to help, she should come with me, and I turned away and walked back into the trees, towards the sea.
I knew she would follow.
I walked past the little cove shore, and out along the headland, where the hillside sloped down into the water, shedding its covering of grass and earth, becoming a rough jumble of naked rock. The water is very deep there.
Standing on the rock, I turned to see Elisabeth making her way carefully towards me. I waited until she was close enough for me to reach out and take her hand, and told her to be quiet if should could, and to listen.
Elisabeth's look of confusion began to change almost instantly...I knew she could hear it, even though, this time, I could not.
She began to speak but I gestured for her to remain silent, and Elisabeth's frown then eased, and she took on the look of someone daydreaming, eyes unfocused and far away.
She turned towards the water, leaning out, as if trying to get closer to the source of the song in her ears. When I pushed her, she did not make any attempt to stay herself, hitting the cold grey green surface headfirst. It was only then she came out of her trance like state, gasping and beginning to flail her arms. But by then, it was too late.
Pale arms slid from the water and clasped Elisabeth tightly, pinioning her arms in place. Her eyes were so wide, and her screaming so loud, as she realised that something had come from the water and had taken hold of her. She looked at me as she screamed but then turned her head to stare into those black eyes, and see the jagged smile, a horribly willing welcome.
Elisabeth's screams ceased as the mermaid kissed her, her eyes now on me again, full of begging, terror and seawater, blood erupting suddenly, startling in colour, so rich and red against the grey green, and then she was gone, dragged below to some never seen depths. A slick of crimson floated on the water for a moment, before being swept away.

December 16th, Monday
The investigation into my reporting has ended, and I have received an apology from my regional manager. The only thing that is making this not such a happy event is Elisabeth's disappearance. I have been questioned by the police, as a matter of course, and so have all that were in her immediate work group. They have no leads at this time.
But work is better now than than it has been for a long time.
My husband fell ill for a while, and is very slow to recover, staying in bed a lot and being generally miserable about the house.
I find him looking at me sometimes, in a strange way, but I don't mind, I always smile back to let him know everything is alright.
But I hope he gets better soon. It is getting a bit tiresome having him mope around all the time.
Who knows, maybe some music might cheer him up?

Stories of The North

Annemarie wrote this preamble to her story "The Siren Sings To Ingrid":

One of the nice things about knowing people who are creative, is being able to steal ideas from them.
Almost as much fun, is coming up with an idea resulting from a silly conversation.
Innini and I set each other a sort of challange. To write a story, but that it had to pertain, roughly, to Halloween.
It had to be set in Norway, had to incorporate the fishing industry, and it had to have a mermaid in there somewhere.

Easy peasy!

We didn't quite meet the Halloween deadline obviously, but that wasn't important.
What was interesting, was the different style and approach used.
My (Annemarie) story, is fiction, and written with a particular cadence of speech and thought that differs very much from my own.

My story ended up different from Annemaries. It does not really have a plot, but I did try to capture a tiny bit of the essence of the north. But more importantly, everything in my story is true. It all took place. 

But why don't you make up your own mind, and read our stories for yourself?


Gudrun felt the sun before she saw it, the heat burning on her skin and on her eyelids. With an enormous effort, she opened her eyes, and closed them immediately after. “Fuck”. She vaguely remembered the club she was in, and the walk home. She had eaten a burger. That part she didn’t quite remember, but she could taste the onions and the dressing in her mouth. Her bladder told her what came next. On trembling legs, she walked into the bathroom and sat down. She sat for a long time. 

She was half asleep on the toilet when the doorbell rang. “Noo.. WTF?”, she muttered when wiping herself. She looked at herself as she washed her hands, her hair doing its medusa impression again. Gudrun opened her door, wearing the tshirt and shorts she usually wore in bed. Harald, the next door neighbor smiled at her.


“Hi Gudrun. Could I borrow your lawnmower? I can’t believe how fast the grass is growing in this weather. I told Lisbeth that if the weather gets any better now, we are moving down south, hehehe. Lisbeths parents are coming to stay today, and you know how she is when they are here. Myself, I never had any problems with them, I never really had any problems with anyo….”

Gudrun cut him off. “Just take it. It’s on the other side of the house”. Then she closed the door, ran to the bathroom, vomited and went back to bed. The alarmclock blinked 03:45.

She woke several hours later. “Fuck”. The clock blinked 13:15, only 45 minutes to the beer-store will close. She hated that store. The rest of the country has beer in the convenience stores, but not up here. No, they would have to go out to a special store to get it. She knew full well why this was so. One part was the puritanism, the strict practice of religion in the north. The other part was the fisheries. Well, not the fisheries themselves, but the fact that fishermen and the people at the fisheries made huge sums of money during the season, and very little off season. It was quite common to see people blow thousands on a single night out, literally drinking themselves to death. 

She had seen it. She worked at the fishery.

It was a job. Not one she was very proud of, but not embarassed over either. Several of her friends worked there, or in similar places. She had been working at a shrimp-processing factory, but when she got the chance to cut cod-tounges, she grabbed it. It paid well, the only drawback were her co-workers. Mostly guys, all of them uneducated and with too much money. The perfect recipy for making assholes.

She got the beer, returned them to her fridge and made herself a coffee. She would go to the pub, after all it was Saturday. Most of her friends would meet around 14:00 for beer and lies. She opened the Harstad Tidings paper while having the coffee, skimming through the local news section. There was an update on the two deaths that has happened earlier this week:

“July 12, Harstad.
The two men who died after being found unconcious beside the road just north of Bjerkvik, are believed to have been poisonned. A third man has been questioned, and has explained that the three men found a plastic container near the road while walking from a party. Two of the men drunk the content, assuming it was alcohol. Police say that the content has been sent for analysis, and that they believe that the liquid is methanol or some sort of paint thinner.”

Gudrun walked the 200m to the pub. She already felt better, as she always did when she left the house. Her apartment was located on top of a pet store, and the heat from the aquariums casued the entire building to rot. The walls were filled with critters and animals, and she could her them run during the night. Last week, a mice ran across the livingroom while she was watching TV. Something she could only see as a message from the universe to move the hell out of there.

Happy-hour started early on Saturdays, and the pub was already filling. She eyed a group of friends around the usual table, and as she walked over, she noticed that Lill had a patch over her eye.

“Whats up with the eye?”
“I dropped glue in it?”
“Glue? What the fuck?”
“I looked like shit this morning, and I was going to drop some ClearEyes in them.”
“I took the glue by mistake.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Hurt like hell too. I was at the emergency room all morning. They had to use a scalpel to get it open again.”
“I need a drink. Should you be drinking by the way?”
“Meh. Cheers.” 
“I lost you last night. I think I did. Did you go with that guy?”
“Yeah, he followed me home, so I thought I’d keep him.”
“Hehe, was he any good?”
“I don’t know. I regret the whole thing, and I jumped out the window and I didn’t return until this morning. By then he was gone.”
“Jesus, you are terrible at one-night stands.”

The beers kept coming and the pub filled up nicely. By 16:00, it was packed and loud. Most of them were there. Roger, who was 38, but pretended to be 24, and who once stalked a girl around the university campus until he could no longer contain himself. He had locked himself in the toilet, removed all his clothes and masturbated on the wall. Thor, who had been in a terrible skydiving accident, and now had metal in his skull. Hi right ear was deaf, and everyone always talked into that ear to annoy him. Lill made up some lame excuse and left early, as she always did. Cecilie sat down next to Gudrun and opened the paper she had brough.

“Look, there is the creep I told you about. My boss”

Gudrun read the article

“Anita, 23, has filed a complaint with her former employer, the Fishermans Resturant. After working as a barmaid and waiter for 5 months, she received a text from her boss at 03 in the morning where he told her she was fired. The only explanation given was that she was the wrong star-sign. Anita told the Harstad Tidings that she has contacted a lawyer and plan to claim restitution for wrongful discharge. The general manager at the Fishermans Resturant has declined to comment”

“Ah… Yes, but Anita is a cunt, we all know that”
“Sure, I suspect he fucked her and then fired her to avoid a scene at work. But anyway, he asked me a few weeks back if he could use me in a painting. I didn’t mind, so I said yes”
“Ok, and?”
“They made me into a goddamn mermaid. It right there on the wall now. Huge bloody painting, with me laying there with my tits out.”
“Haha, really? Did you show them your tits when they made it?”
“Fuck you! Of course I didn’t. My dad saw the painting. So did everyone else. Fucking guy grabbed my tits here at the pub last night because he wanted to check it they were as big as in the painting.”
“Lol. So are they?”
“No, and that is the most fucked up thing about it”

The weeks passed by in a blur of work at the fishery and drinking in the weekends. People met, had sex, argued and broke up. The northern spirit is very much linked to the weather and the sun. Nobody is as cocky as a northener during a nice summer. They will grab every opportunity to gloat, and nothing gives them more joy than to see that the southeners have rain, when the sun is shining 24/7 up there. But it never lasts. The rain and the storms and the low temperatures drives them to near desperation. Hysterical rantings in the newspapers, arguing that the government should pay for their trips to Spain, is common to see as the days gets colder and darker. The «if it gets hotter now, I will move south» is replaced by the more sinister «we will endure».

The winter came in october, and Gudrun was already looking forward to christmas. She had agreed to meet her sister Hanna for a drink at the pub. Hanna told her about the latest animals she had bought. Some more sheep and a horse. Gudrun thought she had too many animals already, but knew better than to bring that topic up again. She had’nt said anything about that time she inflated two rabbits with compressed air (seemed like a good idea on how to separate the fur from the meat), but she had said something when she heard that she first strangled them with a piece of rope. 
Hanna ordered two more beers.

«Remember Odny? The old lady next door?»
«Uhh.. the witch?»
«Yeah, the witch. She died yesterday. They found her outside her house»
«Oh fuck. She was really old though»
«Yes. 85 or 90 or something. I think the kids killed her»
«What? What kids? What do you mean?»
«It was Halloween on saturday, right? So all the kids had sort of ganged up, and they tricked or treated their way from house to house. Aparently, some of the older kids wanted to scare the younger kids, and told them about the witch and that she has an axe in her hallway.»
«I heard about the axe when I was little too»
«We all did. Anyways, they all went over to her house, must have been more than 30 kids. All of them dressed like ghosts and zombies and stuff like that. When she opened the door, she had been fucking terrified. She probably didnt even know what Halloween /is/. So she screamed in panic and ran out after them... waving an axe over her head»
«You are fucking kidding me.. She really had an axe?»
«I swear to god. The kids ran for their lives, and she ran in panic after them, probably thinking they were monsters or whatever»
«That is seriously fucked up»
«I know.. Anyways, I need to go. I am picking up a new dog»
«Sigh.. ok, don’t strangle it»
«Fuck you»
«Happy Halloween»

Tuesday, 5 November 2013

Searching for Claes Oldenburg

Place: Linnie Labs Interrogation Room
Time: 9:00 am ST (school time)
Interviewer: Truant Officer Joe Friday

The story you are about to hear is true; only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Joe Friday enters a small room containing a table and two chairs. One of the chairs is occupied by a young very cute red haired girl wearing glasses.
Joe Friday drops a large file folder on the table and sits opposite the girl.
(flashes his ID quickly at the girl)
My name is Joe Friday. I am the truant officer for LL.
For the record, what is your name?

(smiles shyly)

Sorry, we can't use real names in this story.

Oh yikes … should I use my alts name?

No, we will continue to use Emmy because you are probably not that innocent.

That is what my mom says.

So Emmy, if that is your real name, do you know why you are here?

To tell me how cute I am? Most men do.

(points to the large well worn file folder sitting on the table in front of him and in a commanding voice)
Don't get smart young lady. We have a huge file on all your activities.

(reaches out for the file folder)
Wow cool …  Can I have a copy?

(quickly pulls back the file folder and slaps Emmy's hand)
No you can't. We are still passing it around to everyone at LL for bedtime reading.

(begins leafing through the file folder)
Someone, who shall remain anonymous, has brought some serious charges against you?

(in an excited voice)
Oh cool. I bet is was annemarie. Spelled with a small a. She is always pulling jokes on me.

No it wasn't annemarie.

(even more excited)
Oh, then it must have been Innini. Was it Innini?

(getting frustrated)
 NO! it wasn't Innini.
Now pay attention young lady. Someone, who shall remain anonymous, …..

(quickly cuts in)
It must be one of the Fish Girls because the file folder does smells a little fishy.

(slams his right hand on the desk top)
No it wasn't one of the Fish Girls! It was Jimmy Resident!

I thought the name was suppose to remain anonymous?

(running his fingers through his hair and looking up at the ceiling)
OMG, I am now starting to understand why your mom has hired a lawyer to see if there are any "loop holes" in your adoption papers she can use.

(questioning expression)
She has?

Now back to the allegations young lady. The charge against you is being in the proximity of sex balls. This is a clear violation of our community standards.

Yikes! Sex balls? No way!  Never!
What sex balls?

(places two 8 x10 color photos on the table and pushes them towards Emmy)
These sex balls.


(takes a long look at each photo)
Those aren't sex balls.

They are so sex balls. One is blue and the other is pink. There you are standing next to them.

First of all, that is not me. If you look closely at the second photo that person is as thin as a piece of paper. She is one of my clones.
Secondly, they may look like sex balls but they are really Claes Oldenburg's latest sculpture.

What? Who is Claes Oldentburg? Another one of you boy friends?

No! But he is old enough to be my grandpa.
(continues talking in a rapid voice like she does when giving a school report)

According to Wikipeda, Claes Oldenburg is an American sculptor, draughtsman, printmaker, performance artist and writer of Swedish birth. Oldenburg’s embrace of the commodities of materialist culture as subject-matter placed him in the forefront of what became known as Pop Art; his published writings on his work are among the most vivid texts produced within the movement.

Swedish birth you say? Sounds like a left wing radical.
(writes his name down for further investigation)

No he is really a nice guy. Many of Oldenburg's large-scale sculptures are of mundane objects which are very whimsical, insightful, and are fun additions to public outdoor art. His sculptures are quite large and often have interactive capabilities.

Interactive capabilities? Like sex balls?

Well not that "interactive". Here I have a few pics of Oldenburg's sculptures on my iPhone.
(passes phone)


You call that art? Looks like a typewriter eraser and a badminton birdie to me. You can see that stuff all over Second Life.

Yes but not in Real Life. That is what makes them so cool.

So why are these sex balls for big?

According to the magazine, "Second Life Art Today", they represent man's inferiority complex regarding his penis.

What? Young lady, I will have you know that size isn't everything.

(crosses her legs like Sharon Stone did in the movie "Basic Instinct" - hears the sounds of a clicking camera)
What was that noise?

(looking embarrassed)
What noise?

(re-crosses her legs — her short skirt revealing more than it should - hears more clicking)
That noise! It sounds like a camera. Are you sure you are a real truant officer?

(adjusts his tie - gulps)
 You looking for new daddy or another boyfriend?

Yikes! No!

How about an uncle? I have never been an uncle before but I bet I could make a nice one.

Let me see your ID again.

(flashes ID)

(grabs ID and looks closely)
Hey this ID looks fake. You are wearing a Groucho nose, glasses and mustache.


(scoops up the file folder with the big "Fishie Press" logo on it - talks to herself)
Well, that was a bit weird but no more than normal. Guess I now have something to read tonight.


The DUW index

At the free and independent Fish Press, we are always trying to promote science in any way possible. We don't care too much about the scientific process, mostly because we don't understand it and because we are lazy. In other words, if we hear about a new scientific principle, we will publish it. Let someone else worry about peer review and that kind of thing. If it feels right, it probably /is/ right.

This is the collaborative work of Dr. Breen and Dr. Innini:

Dear Dr. Breen

The concept of DUW, Aka Days Until Weekend has been looming in my mind since, well, since last weekend. At the time of writing, the DUW-distance is 2.

The weird thing about the DUW-index is that it is not linear nor logarithmic. For example, DUW-4 is sometimes twice DUW-2, but not if you have a good time. Meetings makes the DUW-index to behave exponentially. Until someone says something funny about a cow-orker that is not present in the meeting.. Then we are back to linear..

I tried to write Stephen Hawkins and ask him to help developing the DUW math, mostly because we suck at math and because it would look really cool to have his name on the front page. He told me to fuck off, and I guess its easy to act tough when you know that no one will hit someone with glasses and a wheelchair.

Yours truly,
Dr. Innini

Dear Dr. Innini

Thank you for that lovely letter. The concept is not new to me, obviously, and I have been doing some rudimentary work already. I encountered several interesting facts when looking at the mechanics behind the DUW index. We would add the factor of LEP, linear enhancement phases.
A linear enhancement phase is where the normal linear time changes dramatically due to HGT (Having a Good Time) variables acting directly on the time and effort train. In these instances, metrics become all but useless, and observed time intervals appear to be compressed.

I too asked Stephen Hawkins to assist in explaining these particular phases, and he again told me to fuck off. We debated for a while, and since then he has been even more connected to his wheelchair.

Dr. Breen


Hi hottie,

When struggling with the math, I realised that this must be where the american measurement system comes from. When things become too hard, just call it ounces, gallons, feet and so on. Nobody understands a thing, and everyone can go back to eating at McDonalds.

Now, while writing the past paragraph, the HGT just increased, and DUW was down to 1 for a moment. I just looked at the watch and the amount of work I need to do today, so it popped right up to 4.

The really weird thing is that DUW is not mod 7. You cannot have negative DUW of course, come friday, it stays at 0 for the entire weekend. However, during particularly boring weeks, it can go much higher than the theoretical limit of 5. DUWs of 38 has been known, particularly for people who do consultary work or if you at all have to deal with cow-orkers and other people who seem to have no other purpose that you make your day miserable. Why this is so, nobody knows. Probably something to do with entangled quarks, or contemporary art. We just dont know.

Btw, a futa girl cammed me in SL for over an hour last night. Thankfully, she didnt have the balls (!) to ask me if I wanted to see her penis.

kisses <3
Dr Innini


Lets get this paper done. I have some unspeakable things I would like to do to you in the shed.

I do believe that this can concur with the entaglement hypothosis. And in the absolute absense of any HGT factors, we suggest there could be cause to suspect the existance of SIL  (Seemingly Infinite Loop) phenomena, that may explain the presense of the volitile reactions we term as FFS and IWIWD (I wish I was dead), in very extreme cases IWYWD (I wish /you/ were dead).

Well would you look at that, a prime example of HGT induced LEP just occoured while I was writing the above and reading the below. I may write a paper on this. (Note, this /is/ the paper)

I went to the Tate modern once, and found myself more interested in the building than what was in it. Ive just been asked for same data...based on what its going to be used for, I think it's best I make it up.

/me fabricates imaginary metrics.....

There. Done. The shed, now!

Dr Breen

Thursday, 31 October 2013

Here at Fish Press, we encourage the creative need, and we will work to make sure you have a place to come to when you want to show people a story you've written, or maybe a poem, or some pictures you've taken that are more than, well, just pictures.
Or maybe you've made a sketch or a drawing...whatever the expression, we are interested in it.
Second Life is where we come from, or at least, for the purpose of making this blog, it's where we come from. Be careful not to ping the TOS too hard, or what happened to me, as transcribed below, might happen to you...
"Interrogation room 3, Officer ID JK8P75, begin tape....."
State your name please..
"annemarie Breen"
Is that with and e? as in Ann or Anne?
"With an e, and lowercase a"
Why the lowercase?
"Thats the name I rezz'd with, that's the name I keep, no supplementary tag or crap like that." is a bit...noob?
"yes it is"
That doesn't bother you obviously..
"No....hmm well maybe once it did, but at some point I stopped caring, and at another I began caring again but, this time differently."
Could you explain a little more?
"Not really" says here you are..difficult
"Does it now"
Yes, it does. It also says you are cynical, envious, spiteful, duplicious...
"this is getting interesting!"
...that you are, and I quote, "a f*cking bitch" "that smart mouthed c*nt" and, my favourite, "a sad lonely assh*le"
Are those things true or false?
"Why are you asking me?"
Because it's my job to ask questions, and I want to know what you think of those descriptions
"To be honest...asking me what I think, about what other people think of me, is like being told by someone they don't like the taste of meat, and then asking me if I think they are telling the truth or not."
That's a very simplistic way of looking at it, or, a clever, if transparant bit of deflection..
"Ok...maybe it's like asking the cow from whom the meat was cut, while she was alive, and asking it the same question. Maybe the answer would be something like "I have no way of knowing if they actually don't like how I taste, all I know is it hurts."
So you're a cow now..
"you might as well add it to that list you like so much"
I didn't say I liked it, just that I'm interested in it.
"Fair enough"
Ok..why do you think people have said those things of you?
"Because they are true"
You accept all of that? all those things?
"I do yes"
I that all you have to say about it?
"Pretty much"
You're not even interested in who said it, or why?
"I didn't say that"
Then what did you say? you said they were true..
"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm not interested, that's a question you have only half-posed just now"
Ok...ok...what do you do, to make people think those things about you?
"Be myself"
Very funny, could you cooperate please? and answer at least one question honestly?
"Now a very stupid question"
Fuck sake, end of session 1, pause tape.
 Interrogation room 3, Officer ID JK8P75, restarting tape, time is...15:03.., I have been thinking about our previous session, and perhaps I have come across as being adversarial, if I have that wasn't my intention, and I want to start over, so to speak..
"I don't see you as an advarsary"
Good, because, I'm not.
Now..we have this information, these testemonies from various people, and some of it is quite...well some of those people have nothing good to say about you whatsoever"
"Ok" the natural question has to must see this..why do they think these things, why do they say these things, about you?
"It's a natural question yes, but you are asking the wrong person"
How do you mean?
"If you want to know why, you must ask them, not me."
So, you are taking no responsibility at all for any of this..
"It'd be more correct to say I'm taking no interest"
"Are you alright?"
Yes, I'm ...fine.
"You seem to be uncomfortable, or something"
I'm fine...just that you are, difficult to ask questions of
"I'm not, I haven't prevented you from asking a single question"
Ok! then you are difficult to get an answer from!
"And again, I am not, I have answered every question you have posed"
Oh jesus christ for fu.....just....stop being so literal
"Well, I'm doing that deliberatly, to annoy you."
I knew it!
"Your powers of interrogation are breathtaking"
Stop the fucking....pausing tape, damn it.
Interrogation room 3, Officer ID ST2T01, intervention protocol as per EOP404 commencing at this time, mark...08:27.
"Good morning"
Good morning annemarie.....annemarie with a lower case a..
"that's right yes"
That's your opinion, and your classification of what's right or wrong are not important to me.
"Ok...seems silly though"
What does?
"The fact that I'm being questioned, but my opinion isn't of any interest to you."
Ah...I begin to understand why I've been asked to enact this protocol. No matter, I've got a job to do, and I'll do it.
.....You frustrated your previous interrogator I see, the transcript says as much to me, I don't think I need to listen to the previous tapes.
"You might miss out on verbal tonation cues and nuance though..."
I might..but there again, that's your opinion, and you already know what I think of that.
"I do!"
Alright.....I think I can dispense with the usual tier advancement stuff, you seem to be able to exploit that method..
"Maybe if it had been better applied?"
Maybe....that is academic at this point.
"As is this entire process"
....Listen to me, annemarie with a lower case a, you can play your game all you want, it really doesnt matter to me. When this is over I will return to my office and forget about you, if I haven't already done so by the time I get there.
"Is that a degenerative thing you have?"
...You know, it's at times like this I do miss the old methods, I'd be done by now and you'd be picking up your teeth from the floor.
"Have you communicated your issue to your immediate supervisor as part of the established performance management programme?"
Shut up you annoying bitch.
"Why would an interrogator want the subject to stop talking?"
"Maybe this line of work doesn't suit you anymore, we all change, over time." know the reason you are here, why don't you just tell me what is going through your mind, and then we can be done. You can go, and I can go, we both win.
"Alright..everything is true, at one time or another. I do and say things that make people feel less than friendly towards me, and sometimes I do it deliberatly, and sometimes accidentally.
The result is the same. I wish I could harmonise better, but I never could.
I cannot pretend to feel empathy, anymore than I could participate in purile, inane exchanges that consist of formulaic salutations and pseudo-enquiries that are nothing more than a crude construct to facilitate an all but scripted series of
carnally suggestive comments.
At best it's ritualistic herd speake, at worst it's the devisive propaganda of personality worship."
Ok.....anything else?
"That, and I have an ego the size of central Europe"
I think we're done here
"This was interesting, can we do it again sometime?"
No, we cannot..
"oh go on"
No! and no I will not accept your friend request, get out!...ahm..Officer ID ST2T01, ending intervention protocol as per EOP404, no, I repeat for clarity, no corrective actions or further interviews required. End tape.

What's all this about?

A creative desire.

Creativity, has more than a few definitions. I'm not going to list them or anything so dull as that, but it's worth recognising that the word itself, and the concept of what it means, is not perfectly clear. So, speaking for myself (I can never do anymore than that), I prefer to focus on it's seed, and that is desire.
Desire is the seed of many things I guess, but if I was to make the distinction between desire and need, it would be that the fulfillment of desire is not essential to a persons survival. For example, we can say we hunger, and call that desire, but that's just semantics.
Real hunger makes us want to eat, it's a need. I can desire to write and not do so, and while that may make me unhappy, dissastisfied or unfulfilled, well it won't kill me.

So what's this all about then, eh? Why did Innini and I come up with the idea of making Fish Press? Because we desired to do so, because both of us like to make things that have no practical use whatsoever, they just look interesting, or nice, or unusual, they make us laugh and maybe others too, they sound good, they make us want to have a bit of a dance, or transport us to a place in our minds where we feel good.

And we both realised that even the most simple of collaborations, a conversation, facilitates creativity. Things said and read, heard and wrote, spark other things to do, or make us want to change things we've already done or are doing.

So this is where we will show what we do, to others.
And this is where others, who want to show their stuff, can come to do it.
And this is where everyone can talk about it.