The Wednesday Editorial
=WIP - I like to post and break, edit and break, edit and break, because I really can't stay on one task too long=
Howdy Y'all.
Well, I've decided to start blogging again; apparently I was pretty decent at it until I got all philosophical, and it's generally a good habit to keep, but also so I don't have to repeat the same long winded stories over and over again. Now they're just read over and over again. It's all good stuff, isn't it really?
The mood to write recently (as in, 20 minutes ago) seized me, and I wrote the following short excerpt, which apparently carries that WOW factor. See for yourself. If I continue to get the calling, I'll actually write a story on it (I have a vague idea of where to go, but I find the best stories come to you while you're writing them) and who knows what from there. Anyway. Less talk, more Sisters of Mercy (The title has a meaning)
================================================================================
Sisters of Mercy.
“The Sisters of Mercy, the Sisters of Regret, all taken down by a video cassette”
- Author Unknown
“In sorrow
She mourns her beloved son
What’s next to follow
No one knows”
- Sylvia Chidi
Sat in a fictitious drawing room is not always the best place to be when trapped in a real prison presided over by dead guards and dead rats with now dead fauna sprouting up through the walls, but that’s where Sam Gold found herself on June 30th 1984 at precisely 10:12PM. The fictitious drawing room was everything Sam imagined; because, of course, she had actually imagined it. She was not actually in the drawing room at all, but clearly to the naked eye within the small, dank confines of her cell. She had created the drawing room herself as a means to escape the pressures of the Portland stateside penitentiary prison, and to her it represented her own little private getaway, right inside her own head. It smelt of new books and musky burning wood, filtered through her mind naturally to provide a calming smell and sensation. In her head at least.
================================================================================
The first poem (credited as unknown for the sake of the excerpt) and the rest bar the other poem are all by me. That poem I found while searching for poems on sorrow, and I think it's fitting. Anyway, yeah, read it and tell me what you think, provide for me the motivation to carry on. Even if you don't like it, I'd like to know your opinion - it is an extreme "WIP" in any case.
Wow, I can ramble.
================================================================================
Media Commentary
I'm hoping to make this a regular Wednesday feature - commentary on the media. I always enjoy the diverse opinions offered on films, movies, books and games, and here I'll offer my own. My god, I sound like I'm a media magnate. I'm not, I'm a poor, now 17 year old boy sitting on his laptop. But you know that. I'm out of my depth. Like a fat man in the kiddies pool. Or a beached whale. Or just generally me.
Shush.
TV
The Apprentice - HE'S GONE, OH MY GOD, THE BIG WET DRIP HAS FINALLY LEFT THE BUILDING. I'm talking of course about Micheal Sophocles, whom Sir Alan obviously had the biggest soft spot going. Wow. He's actually gone. I so thought he was going to fire Helene, but instead he just gave her a good old wife beating so he'd feel better about firing Micheal. Wow.
But what an episode? I had to actually shield my eyes from the embarrassment that was Micheal CHASING a guy down a street and saying that he would come into the meeting with him (What on earth?) just to close a £67 deal. Not even in the trebles. Christ. Elsewhere Lucinda has been totally disowned but is trying her best bless her, but even though I feel sorry for her, apart from management, what IS she good at?
I can't be the only one to not see any clear winners this year? They're all pants.
Music
My hot tip of the moment? Cut Copy. Loving their unique sound, for some reason they strike that unique Numan - esque 80's cord in my musical tastes. Regardless, most of their stuff appeals to all genre fans, so I'll certainly recommend their album "In Ghost Colours" Furthermore, I actually bought their album, which I usually reserve for the best of the best. Give them a listen here with the track that drew me in.
Film
While I wait to go see the new Indiana Jones movie (Which has had very mixed reviews, and which has been all but spoiled, sadly, for me) I can only offer my thoughts on Iron Man and one of my all time modern favourites, the instant classic "The Departed".
================================================================================
Current Events
Anyway, today I had my interview, and quite a few people have asked me what it entailed and how I made it go typically in my own, unique way: Wrong. So here goes.
Well first, I thought the interview was at 2:30, which was curious, as the interview was also meant to last 2 hours 30 minutes. Odd coincidence, but hey, let's roll with that. At 1:30 I started to think I should check my notes, just to make sure, and was shocked to find I'd actually written two in big bold letters. With a circle around it. Twice.
I somehow made it, and I somehow managed to look respectable still. I went for that 80's Yuppie look, skinny white tie, striped shirt with plain cuffs and pinstriped trousers. I had the hairstyle to match. Bringing back the 80's seems to be my current mantra. I walked in thinking I was late - ish at 5 minutes early, you're supposed to be ten from recollection to set the right impression, but I was the first one. Always nerve wracking. The others turned up in drips and drabs, one I noticed wasn't even wearing smart trousers, jeans to an interview. I felt inappropriate. After texting a few people in sheer panic ("I swear they make you wait to psyche you out" read on) all five of us assembled were dragged through the bowels of the complex and upstairs, where we all sat in a big circle. Silence. This is scary.
After the spiel, we were given the task in groups of making as many words out of a group of 11 letters ( Which later turned out to spell "Partnership" collectively ) as possible. I was put in a team of 3 and in my own, unique way took the helm. "Right, so, how are we going to attack this? Simple one's first?". I had to resist the urge to immaturely spell out "Penis", but we still made it funny somehow, I managed to fling a letter across the room and send my team mate sprawling after it, and the quips were... bizarre. We came second place, but it was more about observing how we worked as a team.
Our next task was to write, in five minutes, a presentation about ourselves. We were given some privacy and we all started feverently writing. "Watch as I fall to pieces when I mispronounce a word".
TO BE CONTINUED.
Next time: The Thursday Follow Up. Whereby I finish the above story, comment more on media, perhaps update my novel, and provide a few shitty jokes. Like usual then. Look forward to seeing you there.
=WIP - I like to post and break, edit and break, edit and break, because I really can't stay on one task too long=
Howdy Y'all.
Well, I've decided to start blogging again; apparently I was pretty decent at it until I got all philosophical, and it's generally a good habit to keep, but also so I don't have to repeat the same long winded stories over and over again. Now they're just read over and over again. It's all good stuff, isn't it really?
The mood to write recently (as in, 20 minutes ago) seized me, and I wrote the following short excerpt, which apparently carries that WOW factor. See for yourself. If I continue to get the calling, I'll actually write a story on it (I have a vague idea of where to go, but I find the best stories come to you while you're writing them) and who knows what from there. Anyway. Less talk, more Sisters of Mercy (The title has a meaning)
================================================================================
Sisters of Mercy.
“The Sisters of Mercy, the Sisters of Regret, all taken down by a video cassette”
- Author Unknown
“In sorrow
She mourns her beloved son
What’s next to follow
No one knows”
- Sylvia Chidi
Sat in a fictitious drawing room is not always the best place to be when trapped in a real prison presided over by dead guards and dead rats with now dead fauna sprouting up through the walls, but that’s where Sam Gold found herself on June 30th 1984 at precisely 10:12PM. The fictitious drawing room was everything Sam imagined; because, of course, she had actually imagined it. She was not actually in the drawing room at all, but clearly to the naked eye within the small, dank confines of her cell. She had created the drawing room herself as a means to escape the pressures of the Portland stateside penitentiary prison, and to her it represented her own little private getaway, right inside her own head. It smelt of new books and musky burning wood, filtered through her mind naturally to provide a calming smell and sensation. In her head at least.
================================================================================
The first poem (credited as unknown for the sake of the excerpt) and the rest bar the other poem are all by me. That poem I found while searching for poems on sorrow, and I think it's fitting. Anyway, yeah, read it and tell me what you think, provide for me the motivation to carry on. Even if you don't like it, I'd like to know your opinion - it is an extreme "WIP" in any case.
Wow, I can ramble.
================================================================================
Media Commentary
I'm hoping to make this a regular Wednesday feature - commentary on the media. I always enjoy the diverse opinions offered on films, movies, books and games, and here I'll offer my own. My god, I sound like I'm a media magnate. I'm not, I'm a poor, now 17 year old boy sitting on his laptop. But you know that. I'm out of my depth. Like a fat man in the kiddies pool. Or a beached whale. Or just generally me.
Shush.
TV
The Apprentice - HE'S GONE, OH MY GOD, THE BIG WET DRIP HAS FINALLY LEFT THE BUILDING. I'm talking of course about Micheal Sophocles, whom Sir Alan obviously had the biggest soft spot going. Wow. He's actually gone. I so thought he was going to fire Helene, but instead he just gave her a good old wife beating so he'd feel better about firing Micheal. Wow.
But what an episode? I had to actually shield my eyes from the embarrassment that was Micheal CHASING a guy down a street and saying that he would come into the meeting with him (What on earth?) just to close a £67 deal. Not even in the trebles. Christ. Elsewhere Lucinda has been totally disowned but is trying her best bless her, but even though I feel sorry for her, apart from management, what IS she good at?
I can't be the only one to not see any clear winners this year? They're all pants.
Music
My hot tip of the moment? Cut Copy. Loving their unique sound, for some reason they strike that unique Numan - esque 80's cord in my musical tastes. Regardless, most of their stuff appeals to all genre fans, so I'll certainly recommend their album "In Ghost Colours" Furthermore, I actually bought their album, which I usually reserve for the best of the best. Give them a listen here with the track that drew me in.
Film
While I wait to go see the new Indiana Jones movie (Which has had very mixed reviews, and which has been all but spoiled, sadly, for me) I can only offer my thoughts on Iron Man and one of my all time modern favourites, the instant classic "The Departed".
================================================================================
Current Events
Anyway, today I had my interview, and quite a few people have asked me what it entailed and how I made it go typically in my own, unique way: Wrong. So here goes.
Well first, I thought the interview was at 2:30, which was curious, as the interview was also meant to last 2 hours 30 minutes. Odd coincidence, but hey, let's roll with that. At 1:30 I started to think I should check my notes, just to make sure, and was shocked to find I'd actually written two in big bold letters. With a circle around it. Twice.
I somehow made it, and I somehow managed to look respectable still. I went for that 80's Yuppie look, skinny white tie, striped shirt with plain cuffs and pinstriped trousers. I had the hairstyle to match. Bringing back the 80's seems to be my current mantra. I walked in thinking I was late - ish at 5 minutes early, you're supposed to be ten from recollection to set the right impression, but I was the first one. Always nerve wracking. The others turned up in drips and drabs, one I noticed wasn't even wearing smart trousers, jeans to an interview. I felt inappropriate. After texting a few people in sheer panic ("I swear they make you wait to psyche you out" read on) all five of us assembled were dragged through the bowels of the complex and upstairs, where we all sat in a big circle. Silence. This is scary.
After the spiel, we were given the task in groups of making as many words out of a group of 11 letters ( Which later turned out to spell "Partnership" collectively ) as possible. I was put in a team of 3 and in my own, unique way took the helm. "Right, so, how are we going to attack this? Simple one's first?". I had to resist the urge to immaturely spell out "Penis", but we still made it funny somehow, I managed to fling a letter across the room and send my team mate sprawling after it, and the quips were... bizarre. We came second place, but it was more about observing how we worked as a team.
Our next task was to write, in five minutes, a presentation about ourselves. We were given some privacy and we all started feverently writing. "Watch as I fall to pieces when I mispronounce a word".
TO BE CONTINUED.
Next time: The Thursday Follow Up. Whereby I finish the above story, comment more on media, perhaps update my novel, and provide a few shitty jokes. Like usual then. Look forward to seeing you there.
=WIP - I like to post and break, edit and break, edit and break, because I really can't stay on one task too long=