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The Writer's Niche

The Writer's Niche
Or, a little place where we can all get away...

I recieved the following as an e-mail from a friend of mine at John's Hopkins University. From what I understand, its been floating around since the advent of computers, so if you've read it before, that's ok. If you haven't, I hope you enjoy it now.


How It Came To Pass...

Long ago, in the days when all disks flopped in the breeze and the writing of words was on a star, the Blue Giant dug for the people the Pea Sea. But he needed a creature who could sail the waters, and would need for support but few rams.

So the Gatekeeper, who was said to be both micro and soft,fashioned a Dosfish, who was small and spry, and could swim the narrow sixteen-bit channel. But the Dosfish was not bright, and could be taught few new tricks. His alphabet had no A's, B's,or Q's, but a mere 640 K's, and the size of his file cabinet was limited by his own fat.

At first the people loved the Dosfish, for he was the only one who could swim the Pea Sea. But the people soon grew tired of commanding his line, and complained that he could be neither dragged nor dropped. "Forsooth," they cried. "the Dosfish can only do one job at a time, and of names, he knows only eight and three." And many of them left the Pea Sea for good, and went off in search of the Magic Apple.

Although many went, far more stayed, because admittance to the Pea Sea was cheap. So the Gateskeeper studied the Magic Apple,and rested awhile in the Parc of Xer-Ox, and he made a Window that could ride on the Dosfish and do its thinking for it. But the Window was slow, and it would break when the Dosfish got confused. So most people contented themselves with the Dosfish. Now it came to pass that the Blue Giant came upon the Gateskeeper, and spoke thus: "Come, let us make of ourselves something greater than the Dosfish." The Blue Giant seemed like a humbug, so they called the new creature OZ II.

Now Oz II was smarter than the Dosfish, as most things are. It could drag and drop, and could keep files without becoming fat. But the people cared for it not. So the Blue Giant and the Gateskeeper promised another OZ II, to be called Oz II Too, that could swim the fast new 32-bit wide Pea Sea.

Then lo, a strange miracle occurred. Although the Window that rode on the Dosfish was slow, it was pretty, and the third Window was the prettiest of all. And the people began to like the third Window, and to use it. So the Gateskeeper turned to the Blue Giant and said, "Fie on thee, for I need thee not. Keep thy OZ II Too, and I shall make of my Window an Entity that will not need the Dosfish, and will swim in the 32-bit Pea Sea."

Years passed, and the workshops of the Gateskeeper and the Blue Giant were overrun by insects. And the people went on using their Dosfish with a Window; even though the Dosfish would from time to time become confused and die, it could always be revived with three fingers.

Then there came a day when the Blue Giant let forth his OZ II Too onto the world. The Oz II Too was indeed mighty, and awesome, and required a great ram, and the world was changed not a whit. For the people said, "It is indeed great, but we see little application for it." And they were doubtful, because the Blue Giant had met with the Magic Apple, and together they were fashioning a Taligent, and the Taligent was made of objects, and was most pink.

Now the Gateskeeper had grown ambitious, and as he had been ambitious before he grew, he was now more ambitious still. So he protected his Window Entity with great security, and made its net work both in serving and with peers. And the Entity would swim, not only in the Pea Sea, but in the Oceans of Great Risk. "Yea," the Gateskeeper declared, "though my entity will require a greater ram than Oz II Too, it will be more powerful than a world of Eunuchs. And so the Gateskeeper prepared to unleash his Entity to the world,in all but two cities. For he promised that a greater Window, a greater Entity, and even a greater Dosfish would appear one day in Chicago and Cairo, and it too would be built of objects.

Now the Eunuchs who lived in the Oceans of Great Risk, and who scorned the Pea Sea, began to look upon their world with fear. For the Pea Sea had grown, and great ships were sailing in it, the Entity was about to invade their oceans, and it was rumored that files would be named in letters greater than eight. And the Eunuchs looked upon the Pea Sea, and many of them thought to immigrate.

Within the Oceans of Great Risk were many Sun Worshippers, and they wanted to excel, and make their words perfect, and do their jobs as easy as one-two-three. And what's more, many of them no longer wanted to pay for the Risk. So the Sun Lord went to the Pea Sea, and got himself eighty-sixed.

And taking the next step was He of the NextStep, who had given up building his boxes of black. And he proclaimed loudly that he could help anyone make wondrous soft wares, then admitted meekly that only those who know him could use those wares, and he was made of objects, and required the biggest ram of all.

And the people looked out upon the Pea Sea, and they were sore amazed. And sore confused. And sore sore. And that is why,to this day, Ozes, Entities, and Eunuchs battle on the shores of the Pea Sea, but the people still travel on the simple Dosfish.

-by Jerry and Judy
Southwest Cyberport


As I said in the first page of this site, I like to write.  I've posted here some of the things I've written in the past three years.  I hope it will offer some insight into the sordid life of a teenager in the 90's... :o)
I wrote this around Christmas a few years ago.  It was entitled "Women are by Faulkner, Men are by Beverly Cleary", and expressed my dislike of relationships at the time.  I'll add more as I have the time....

ktw


Grace walked down the sidewalk in a state of suspended animation.  Torn between anger and pain, she didn't notice that the suffocating grey clouds above were finally making good on their threat of sleet.  "Fitting.  She muttered, and pulled her grey wool trench coat tighter around her shoulders to keep out the painfully cold ice.  As she turned the final corner on her street, Grace saw a familiar sight outside her brownstone apartment.  "Steven."  She uttered his name as if it were an epithet; some kind of heretofore-unknown curse causing bitterness and anger to befall anyone whom may utter it.  She almost kept walking down the block, but a sudden resurgence of courage and a cutting draft changed her mind.  Hell never make a coward of me.  Grace breathed deeply of the cold air as she groped for the keys to the front door.  After quietly opening the door, removing her coat and shoes, and putting her keys on the rack, and calmly followed her usual routine for rainy, cold afternoons.  The glint of tinsel on the Christmas tree caught her eye, causing her to pause on the way to the kitchen.

Poor thing looks like it's been through hell and back.  Maybe next year I'll get a real tree.  Even threaded fruit loops to be put on there won't that be pretty maybe I can make some other decorations too... yes Grammy I used the spray stuff on the pan before we put the cookies on.  Can we paint the cookies too?  Theyll be pretty hanging on the tree if we put lots of glitter on them wont they?

 Something pulled her from those memories of her childhood decoration marathons with her Grandmother.  The almost detectable aroma of the sugar cookies baking in her minds eye reminded Grace that she hadnt eaten since morning or been to the grocery store since last Tuesday.  As she made her way to the kitchen, she began to make a mental inventory of exactly what shed like most for dinner.  Unfortunately, when Grace looked through the kitchen, three green tea bags and two packages of beef ramen noodles were the only appetizing and edible denizens of her somewhat sparse kitchen.  With a scowl on her otherwise attractive face, she began to make a large cup of green tea with honey and a bowl of noodles, she tried to shake the sleet from her hair as much as she tried to shake those memories from her mind.  Thoughts of Steven swam through her mind much as the underdone Ramen noodles floated in the warming water:

Whats he doing here?  He doesn't have the right to talk to me... who does he think he is.  Friendship has to have two people.  It doesn't work any other way.  Hes got to do something too; I don't have the strength to make this work without him.  I love him.  If I talked to him he might get me a Christmas gift But I can't talk to him, because if I talk to him Ill have to get him a gift too.  Why do I have to love people that leave me?  I wish he'd never ended it at all.  It probably wouldnt have lasted this long and then I wouldnt have to feel guilty about not having him a gift.  No.  Yes.  I don't know, I never do.  
      
  "Good evening, Stephen.  What do you think you're doing in my house without my invitation?  Or, for that matter, period?" said Grace, fulfilling the axiom about women scorned.  Stephen, who was better at wheedling than a used car salesman whined,  "Gracie, I can explain.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I couldn't see things your way and that I couldn't make everything work.  I just wasn't ready for what you wanted.  
 
"You sound like a berated two year old." seethed Grace, but she thought to herself how sweet he was and how much she missed the hands that were restlessly combing through his hair.  As soon as she remembered the way their hands looked when they were linked, she noticed that the steam wafting from the open pot was beginning to smell like the dried beef bullion packet shed added.  Turning away from Stephen and his pleading look, she began to stir the cooking pasta.

Stephen didnt notice that Graces back was turned.  He was too immersed in his own thoughts of the Christmas present hed planned for her.  God she looks beautiful.  Shes trying to be angry and she can't.  I know that look anywhere.  I hope this will do the trick I love they way they always put these things in a little box...  I hope she'll take it and me too... all I need is one more dinner one more hour with her and Ill be able to ask.  What time is it?  Oh my god it's 7:30 we have to be there in thirty minutes.

 "What I mean is will you come back to me?  Will you forgive me?  I made reservations at Giardinellis and I told Tony to make your favorite.  Stephen begged.  Its no use why did I even try in the first place I don't know why I even came here.  Maybe they'll take the ring back tonight I wanted this to work it's not fair I didn't mean to hurt you please come with me tonight

 "I know what you're doing.  You think that by begging me that you're just going to make me melt and come back to you.  Well it's not going to work this time."  However, Graces growling stomach and the rising beef-scented steam hitting her in the face got the best of her.  It's not its not he can't do this to me again.  He's trying so hard though  I wish I could trust him and let it happen.  Maybe I will go to dinner with him.  I mean  I won't have to pay and I can get a good meal from Tony which would be much better than fifteen cent pasta and stale green tea.  Who knows maybe everything will work out at least I wont have to eat this crap, though.  I wonder whats on the dessert cart tonight?  "O.K. dinner it is, then." sighed Grace.  Dinner and dessert no, appetizers first.  

Stephen mistook the gleam in her eye for a tear of happiness.  He regarded the thoughtful expression on her face and assumed that she was thinking about times past.  Little did he know that the gleam in Graces eye stemmed directly from the thought of cannenoli al carne with a rich marinara sauce, and the thoughtful expression from the impossible choice between raspberries with a crme broulee and chocolate tiramasu cake.  She's giving me a chance it's going to work she's never been able to refuse me we're going to be so happy together this time next year we'll be putting up our own Christmas tree Im going to do everything she ever wanted.  Ill climb mount Kilmanjaro, swim the Bering Strait, or do anything for her ... if only shell give me a chance.

As Gracie and Steven put on their coats to leave the house and save their relationship, somehow the rain wasn't so cold, the sky wasn't quite so grey, and the bare, scraggly Christmas tree looked a little bit fuller.  Visions of the richly smoked procsuttio ham with mozzarella and an expensive glass of wine danced in Graces head as Tony tried to get the wording of his proposal just right.  They both got into the car and drove off into the evening, hoping to live a clich, Happily ever after.