Arise

From Discworld Monthly:

On December 30th it was announced that Terry Pratchett has been
awarded a Knighthood in the New Year Honours list. We would like to
pass on our huge congratulations to Sir Terry Pratchett (and his
squire Rob Wilkins).

*salutes*

Birthday (lack of) Shenanigans

And so another year has rolled by; this one - unlike many that have come before it - an eventful one, from completeing college, to starting university, and all of the random crap inbetween.

Alas, this birthday - unlike the previous few - is less than eventful. Last year I was in Surrey for a small birthday shindig, followed by a Bond-themed New Year's Eve party, with much drinking and fun on the Wii. The year before that we were in the Black Forest, partaking in some karaoke (which I haven't done since, but want to as it's fun).

This year, I'm at home, having a beer and preparing to watch some DVDs, bought with some of the money I got off my dad (the rest will likely go towards a night out when I'm back in Cheltenham). Though tempted by a few, I eventually settled on just four: The City of Lost Children (an old favourite), Police Squad: The Complete Series (an older favourite), Sweeney Todd (recent genius) and Iron Man (recent greatness (watch the vid - not just another trailer).

I also got a fancy shower-gel assortment, a box of posh chocs and whiskey gift-set off friends.

Speaking of friends; it's a pain in the arse being hundreds of miles away from any of them, again. Hence the quiet night in. But, hey-ho; plenty of time to make for it in the new year...

Though it's now immaterial...

...it's still worth sharing:

Simon Cowell: Can't We Just Beat Him With Sticks?

Okay, so number 2 in the Christmas chart isn't bad for a 14 year-old cover by a dead guy, but the fact that the world (well, this country) must be subjected to the atrocious, overblown, point-missing piece of dog excrement that is the X-Fuckter version is upsetting.



Very upsetting.

Interesting side-note: Guess what just missed out on the top-ten this year, coming in at number 12?

Go on, guess...

...

Oh, alright then, I'll give you a hint:

And On...And On...

Salvation.

Sorry for once again falling behind on my post alerts. I will get around to reading them, but I've been kinda busy and kinda unwell. I had a cold last week that I thought I was over, but it came back with a vengence on Tuesday.

Now my throat is killing me! I've been up since about 3:30 because of it, killing time on Prince of Persia. Speaking of which, get it; 'tis greatness. There have been a lot of complaints from people because of the ease of the game and the inability to die. Yes, it's easy, if you're just running through it to get to the ending. The challenge is in seeing everything and collecting everything. The game itself might only be about 8 hours long, but there are so many 'light seeds' to find (1,001) and so much fun to be had figuring out how to get the more elaborately-placed little feckers that you can get a good few hours more out of it.

On the subject of gaming, I also recently played through the new Tomb Raider. It's not bad but, despite there being a host of new elements, the last two were better. I wrote a full review here.

They just had to go and spoil it

Anyone remember this?

Well, a year later, the cover has finally been given an official release, and has even entered the chart at number one. And, despite what I said before, it sucks.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still impressed every time I here the version she sang all those months ago on Radio1. The problem is, whoever produced the single version (probably under the direction of Simon Cowell, who may know what will sell to pre-pubescent girls, but hasn't got the first clue about music) was not and decided it needed work. The result is an over-produced mess with an unnecessary choir and far too many effects, which work to almost drown-out Lewis.



Still, better it retains the number one spot for Christmas than the soon-to-be-crowned X-Fuckter winner...

Direct and to the Point

Jon Stewart and John Oliver telling like it is:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Mumbai Tragedy

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

Where'd Everybody Go...?

My laptop's acting up :(

This morning it was working just fine; then the monitor randomly turned itself off. Figuring it had just gone into power-save mode, as it does, I jiggled the mouse a little.

Nothing happened.

I hit ctrl-alt-delet.

Nothing happened.

I hit alt-F4, in case it was trying to run a programme that for some reason didn't agree with it.

Nothing happened.

I did a forced reset, the loading screens came up, then it all went dark again. I gave it time...

Nothing happened.

I closed the 'puter to put it on stand-by in the hope it just needed to cool down.

Fifteen minutes later, it was back. Hurrah!

A minute after that, it went off again :/

Getting into a bit of a panic now (since it was looking like I wouldn't be able to access my work) I plugged in my memory stick and quickly copied over my Work file. The monitor went off again right before the transfer was complete, but I gave it a minute or two and stick's light ceased flashing to indicate the completed transfer. I then got it running again so I could safely detach my external hard-drive and disable the network, removed all the cables and closed it up for the day.

Tonight, I opened it again, just on the off-chance. It stayed on!

I thought, perhaps, there might be a corrupted file on my external HD that was sending things screwy, so I opted, to plug the rest back in and possibly see what was what.

I plugged in the power-pack first and, before I could even get the thing plugged into the wall, the monitor went off...

So I went to stand-by, unplugged the power pack and turned the 'puter back on. It has so far lasted through the latest episodes of Marvel/DC: Happy Hour, The Daily Show and Never Mind the Buzzcocks, as well as this post.

Though it's heartening to know there's life in this thing yet, the near-dead battery and the fact that I seemingly can't charge it and use my 'puter at the same time is troubling.

Hence, I may be quiet for a little while...

Oh yeah, and there's this one...

Wires Are For Wimps

Now excuse me while I find a rag to clean the drool from my keyboard...

And Suddenly the World Feels Lighter

It's official: Americans aren't quite as dumb as we all thought.

Good for you.

Just Another Reason Why I Love New York

New Yorkers showing solidarity for the bankers on Wall Street (as seen on last night's Have I Got News for You):

Perspective

We're currently doing narrative points of view for Prose Fundamentals and we were set a mini task for next week's lecture. First we were given this:

There are only five passengers on the bus. Thomas is trying to read; distracted by a small boy who runs up and down the aisle, giggling so much that spit covers his chin. The boy's mother shouts 'Billy! Billy! Sit your arse here!' as the bus lurches round a corner and the old man turns, studying the mother through thick glasses, before righting his shopping bags and settling again. The bus stops at traffic lights and Thomas folds his book, resting his chin on the seat in front. 'Good boy,' says the mother, 'Sit down. Sit down I says! Good boy. Here,' she says, passing the boy something Thomas cannot see. The bus is shuddering and Thomas sits upright, tasting the sour metal smell on his hands. He notices that the old man has also sat upright, staring intently at something outside. Then a horn beeps from behind and the driver curses and the bus swings into traffic. Thomas turns, pretending to check who has beeped but actually glancing at the girl who sits cross-legged on the back seat. He has been aware of her all journey - the crackle of her headphones; the smell of a perfume he cannot name. He thinks, perhaps, she smiles.

Then we had to pull prompts out of hat. Most of them were along the lines of Describe the scene in the first-person from the point of view of Thomas or Describe the scene in third person with limited omniscience focused on the mother. I managed to pull out 'Perspective of the "old man". First person. Past tense. Monologue told twenty years later.' Trust me to pick an easy one...

I'll never forget the last time I saw her. We would always meet for a cup of tea and a scone in the High Street at about ten o'clock. We'd been meeting like that for about three years, ever since I first moved to the area. We just happened upon each other one day. I was worried when she didn't show up that day. I remember thinking, I wonder where she is. I couldn't enjoy my tea and scone.

There were only a handful of people on the bus home. There were only ever a handful of people on the bus home. No one ever talked to each other in those days; not like when I was a boy. Everybody knew everybody. Not like now an'all. Everybody has to know everybody. Them bloody cards.

There was a woman shouting and swearing at her little boy. Horrible little thing, he was; running up and down, bothering everybody. She gave him some bloody chocolate just for sitting down. Only got something like that at Christmas when I was his age!

The bus driver was in a hurry as well. Nearly lost my groceries all over the floor. I'm surprised he even bothered to stop at the lights.

Anyway...that's when I saw her being put in the back of the ambulance.

I stopped off at the cafe a few times after that. Well, truth be told, I think I was back there every day for a couple of months.

Then I'd just pop in every now and then, y'know, just in case.

Eventually I just stopped going.

Resisting Temptation

I'm broke.

Okay, that's not entirely true; I still have some savings and an overdraft to see me through to my next loan cheque in January, but with several weeks of food shopping, three months of Mastercard payments, two birthdays and Christmas between now and then, it's going to be tight.

So seeing stuff like this doesn't help matters:



Want.

Can't have.

Bugger.

Still Alive

This be the main theme from the up-coming Mirror's Edge as sung by Lisa Miskovsky (who I've never heard of).

Kinda reminds me of Deep Forest.

Lacking Inspiration for a Team Name

Pub again last night. We've been the past few Sundays and played a lot of pool while the pub-quiz went on around us (we usually missed the beginning). This week, we decided to get there a little earlier and take a swing at it.

We won! :D

£25 worth of vouches at the bar. Not bad for our first go (especially as there were only 4 of us up against teams of 6 and above). Thanks go out to Del one of our points ;)

Next week, Lacking Inspiration for a Team Name return to defend our title.

A (not very) quiet weekend, all on my Lonesome

My house-mates...well, kitchen-mates (3 shared kitchens to each floor) have all buggered off home for the weekend, leaving things rather quiet around here, so I partook of some retail therapy and finally bought myself Metallica's Death Magnetic, marking my first full album download. Until now, I've been something of a CD purist, liking the feeling of having a hard-copy around, I suppose. Here, however, I don't really have room to start stocking CDs and, besides, downloading it was cheaper.

I'm impressed. Following the 90s, in which the band took a turn that attracted many new fans, but also turned many off, the band took some time out, went through some stuff, got drunk, shouted at each other, got therapy, went through some more stuff, got some more therapy and put it all out on St. Anger; the result being a lot closer to their thrash routes than before, but somewhat tentatively received given the often over-the-top rage of the album.

Death Magnetic isn't exactly a calmer affair, but it's a lot more balanced and vastly superior in every way. Hetfield has never sounded better, Hammet's fingers have evidently gotten more pliant with age, Ulrich still revels in beating the living excrement out of his drums and new boy Robert Trujilo is an absolute genius on bass.

Bizarrly, while in Primark, the guy at the counter asked me what I was listening to, I told him, and we ended up having a five-minute conversation about the virtues of Metallica in their 40s.

Random.

Anyway, my second iTunes purchase in as many days came with the news that Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog has finally been released in the UK.

I've just watched it again, and it is still genius!

Also, on a tenuously related note, I went 'round to another kitchen last night to drink, play cards and watch some horror movies: The Evil Dead and Slither (which also stars Nathan Fillion). I've never watched horror films with girls who genuinely scream in terror before. Even Metallica can't match the volume these two could produce. It was hilarious (especially when one darted under the table in sheer terror).

Sorry that's all a bit rush, but supposed to be going 'round to that kitchen now as we're all going to the pub to watch the England match.

Hope you're all having a good weekend!

Mark Steele on Darwin

In relation to my earlier posts about that old book with all the spelling, grammar and continuity errors in it, I thought I'd share a little something by a British comedian I doubt many of my American chums have ever heard. He's sort of the Billy Bragg of comedy:

I Demand to Know Why Nobody Told Me of This!

...?!

I'm not overly surprised that some backward freak could come up with something like the bible, but who, in their right mind, could possibly follow this horse-shit?

Everyone knows the story of Noah; commissioned by God to build an ark to take on every animal two-by-two (or by sevens, depending on which paragraph you're reading) so God can wipe out everything else He's created and start over.

What many of you might not know is the random little incident that took place right after the great flood. Receiving the blessing of The Lord, Noah settles down, plants a vineyard, gets rat-arsed and passes out naked in his tent, where he is happened upon by his son, Ham.

Ham tells his brothers, Shem and Japheth what happened and those two get a blanket and walk backwards into the tent, covering their father while being careful not catch a glimpse of daddy's tackle.

On waking, Noah 'knew what his younger son had done unto him' (that's right; it's Ham's fault dad got smashed and passed-out naked) and curses Ham's son, Canaan, to be 'a servant of servants...unto his brethren.'

So, let's just clarify: Noah - chosen by God to survive the great flood and carry on the species - got drunk, passed-out in the nip and curses his grandson because his son saw him.

People base there lives on this shit!

The Curse of Cain

One of the optional modules I chose for my course is Myth, Epic and Folk Tale, in which we study various old texts that have endured down the centuries and, despite having been reworked and re-edited time and again, have remained influential to this day.

Presently, I'm reading the King James Bible.

I've attempted to read a version of the bible before (out of curiosity), but couldn't even get through the first few short chapters before my attention wandered. Whether it's the version I'm reading or the fact that I have some genuine motivation this time, I'm now making better headway and have just read chapter 4.

By now, many of you probably know my standing on religion. No one can say with absolute certainty whether or not there is a god - some almighty creator who started the whole thing - but what I can say with a great deal of confidence is organised religion is full of shit. Everyone single one of them has been built up by a handful of people with an agenda to control the masses, and nowhere is it more evident than in their own teachings.

"You can do this. You can't do that. This group of people (who I just happen to be a part of) are always right and never to be questioned, and anyone who disagrees will be judged and punished by our particular all-powerful ghost (though if wanna take a few shots yourself, it can't hurt your chances of getting into that big glowing cube in the sky)."

That said, if that's what you're happy with and makes you comfortable and you don't try to force any of rhetoric down anyone else's throat, fine. There's no harm in that.

However, there is a particular group within every religion for whom that isn't enough. These are, of course, the fundamentalists.

Fucktards; each and every one.

For example, female VP wannabe Sarah Palin believes of her own gender; "...in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee." (Genesis 3:16) All of which seems particularly harsh when Adam's punishment for the same sin - eating of the tree of knowledge - was to eat from the tree of life and live forever, tilling soil and fucking his submissive wife.

Also, only 5 pages in and I'm already finding typos and continuity errors. When referring to God, the rule is to always use a capital - he is He; his is His; etc - so it's a little confusing when He's in conversation with Cain and the lower-case is used, especially when there's no paragraph break for a change in speaker and no quotation marks at all.

At this particular point, having just killed his brother, Abel, Cain is one of only three people in existence (himself and his mother and father, Adam and Eve), so he's talking about when he says, "...I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me"?

It's also worth noting the lower-case of 'earth'. Even if there were more than three people in existence - including himself - he's unlikely to meet any of them wandering around in the ground.

People take this stuff literally.

LITERALLY!!

If it wasn't for one of them being the leader of one of the most powerful nations on the planet, and another poised to potentially take his place, it would be hilarious...

Let the Right One In

Ending the Night on a High

So, as has become the norm since returning to studentdom, I was out clubbing last night. Come 3am when it was time to throw out the remaining punters, the traditional kick-out tune was played. Back when I was of an age of clubbing semi-regularly, that tended to be something along the lines of Sinatra's New Yor, New York, or some other swing classic.

Last night, it was thi (give it till at least the third verse):

The Fine Art of Debating

In reference to Obama apparently threatening Pakistan, McCain says a president has to be more careful about what he says. Obama responds by repeating exactly what he’d said about Pakistan, which completely flattens McCain’s lazy interpretation, then points out two examples of McCain letting his mouth go - saying North Korea should be wiped off the map and singing Bomb-bomb-bomb, Bomb-bomb Iran. McCain’s response? To once again reiterate his record in the senate (stopping short of certain decisions made regarding Iraq) and telling some irrelevant story about a woman giving him a bracelet at a town-hall meeting commemorating her son who died in Iraq.

Less than two minutes after Obama has said the situation in Afghanistan can’t be solved by more troop deployment alone and needs some careful strategy, McCain accuses him of not understanding that it’ll take more than just increased troop-deployment to improve the situation and some careful strategy is needed.

That was pretty much the theme of the whole debate. McCain accuses Obama of something, which Obama casually discredits or puts in context before bringing up two or three examples of McCain doing exactly what he’s accusing Obama of, to which McCain has no reply, or Obama says something that McCain immediately forgets and accuses Obama of having the opposite view.

The only reasoning I can think of for why people can’t decide who won, or even think McCain won, is that McCain appeared to be on the offensive more, while Obama was willing to admit when he was in agreement with McCain, but the fact is McCain was stuck with rehashing his campaign ads, while Obama was responding intelligently and articulately to the questions being posed and the responses from the other side.

Judge for yourselves:

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Usually I would leave the politics to The Big E, but earlier I read a couple of overviews on last night’s presidential debate, which essentially came to the conclusion that both parties handled themselves well enough and it’s difficult to say who came out on top. I’m now halfway through watching said debate and, so far, McCain is having his ass handed to him.

Both sides are spewing a lot of rhetoric, avoiding direct questions and criticisms from the other and generally reiterating the agenda’s they’ve been pushing for the last couple of decades (or how ever long this campaign has been running), but the one thing that has become clear is that, while Republicans have commented a few times that a lot of Obama’s proposals are little more than broad-sweeping statements along the lines of ‘This is bad and should better,’ it is, in fact, McCain who’s been spouting words to that effect in the debate.

While McCain talks about keeping up spending in certain broad areas and completely freezing it in others as a result of the recent economic crisis, Obama talks about going through everything with a fine-toothed comb and holding off on the nonessential aspects of some things, while recognising the immediate importance of all of them.

For example, McCain proposes keeping up defence spending, while freezing spending on education, while Obama wants to look at what can be held back on both so he doesn’t have to sacrifice either.

The problem with spending freeze is you’re using a hatchet where you need a scalpel.

Obama

I’ve also noticed that, despite prompting from the moderator to do so, McCain is yet to directly challenge Obama on any point, while Obama (after a slow start) has done so a few times to McCain.

I’ll watch the second half tomorrow, but at half-time, McCain’s heading to the locker-room battered and bruised…

I have coffee, Kit-Kats and custard creams!

Mwahahahaha - bow down, fools!

*ahem*

I've been aheming a lot lately. 'Fresher's Flu' is in the air and everyone is either coughing, sneezing, sniffling or all of the above. My psychology tutor in college told me that there about 120 variants of the cold virus and once you've had one, you become immune to it. I think everyone's brought their own...

My first week of classes is over and what an interesting mix they are. Monday was Imaginary & Real Worlds in which we read a few creation myths, discussed recurring themes and how they tie in with superhero origin stories (i.e. all’s quiet, something triggers a metamorphoses, there’s a bit of conflict, some kind of resolution, but nothing’s the same again). We were also given a fifteen minute exercise in which to come up with our own creation myth or origin story.

No mean feat!

After that was our first Fiction Workshop, which is essentially the same as what I’ve done in previous creative writing groups, but with a little more specific work involved. That said, last week’s workshop consisted of sharing and discussing our favourite books, films and TV shows. The usual batch was on offer but we then had to think about how those things have influenced us as writers for next week (just a paragraph on each).

We also have to make five observations about anything, just to show that we’re being alert and keeping our eyes open for inspiration.

And we have to take something with us to read aloud and have critically analysed by the group. Fortunately I’ve got a whole portfolio of stuff to choose from :)

Tuesday was Myth, Epic & Folk Tale, which, it turns out, is actually an English Lit module. I left the class kinda daunted by the whole thing. We’ve got quite a long list of stuff that has to be read for the course, the first of which being Homer’s Odyssey for the 7th.

I don’t know if any of you have ever read Homer’s Odyssey. It’s loooong. And I am not a fast reader.

Also, it’s kinda baffling. The whole thing is laid out in a Shakespearean, poetic style and the language and structure make some of the idea hard to follow. All the same, I’m enjoying it so far.

The first assessment for the course is a deep, critical analysis of either that or The Grimm Fairy Tales, involving extensive reading and research. I’ve never been much for research…

Wednesday was something called Learning & Personal Development. Not a lecture, as such, more a way of helping us manage our time when it comes to assessments and seeing how we progress throughout the year.

It is an utter waste of time, which is ironic seeing as the main part of it is aimed at helping us manage what little time we have. They’ve chosen to do this by taking an hour off us every week (two on week three) and giving us an extra assignment to do.

Academics can be such morons.

I was hoping to get to my first mixed martial arts class on Wednesday evening, but GoogleMaps guided me around and around in the wrong direction before leading me to the back of the complex, which was all locked up. On reviewing the map and the satellite photo, I realised I could’ve just walked straight down the main road and found the entrance. GoogleMaps is far more detailed than other map sites (Mapquest didn’t recognise the address I was looking for), but its directions are pathetic)

Thursday’s are my day off. Yay! Every university student gets one, except a select few taking joint courses (that’s joint as in two conjoining courses, not joint as in the first thing that probably crossed a few of your minds on first seeing the word) who don’t plan their timetable well enough.

Thursday was the first Kendo session and I was really looking forward to going along and hitting people (well, being hit more likely) with big sticks, but I was too exhausted from coughing up chunks of lung to make it.

*ahem*

Finally, Friday was Playwriting Fundamentals. Again, this one was a little daunting because quite a few members of the class have done some form of playwriting, performance or drama as part of their A-Levels. I’m one of only two who have no experience in it whatsoever. However, I’m not too scared. As far as I could make out from the class, the trick is to be sparse with details and focus predominantly on dialogue.

I like dialogue :)

Incidentally, I’ve recently been reading R.A. Salvatore’s Vector Prime (the first of the Star Wars: New Jedi Order novels) and have realised that, as good as he is at putting together a good action scene, he sucks at dialogue. Otherwise it’s an enjoyable novel, so far. I hope to have a chance to get back to it at some within the next three years, though my reading lists are telling me it’s unlikely…

Anyway, there are two thing in particular that I find interesting about the playwriting module. First is the performance aspect. Unlike most writing classes where you would read out your own work to be assessed by the class and tutor, we’re essentially required to write scripts that will then be performed by other members of the class, and perform scripts written by other class members.

Secondly, we have no class on the 3rd and 17th of October. Instead we’re off to the theatre to take in a couple of performances. Beyond the odd pantomime when I was young, I’ve never experienced the theatre.

This Monday will be our first Prose Fundamentals lecture, which happens alternate weeks in place of Imaginary and Real Worlds. Hopefully that won’t bring with it it’s own reading list, though I hold out little hope…

In other news, I now have a full compliment of posters adorning my walls. Combined with the vast amount of drinking I did last week and already building stress over the workload, I’m feeling like a true student again!

Staying True to Source

It's often difficult for game-to-film adaptations. Certain things have to be done to placate the fans and certain sacrifices have to be made to make a a good film.

We're still waiting for someone to strike the right balance, but some decent efforts have been seen. In Tomb Raider, it was casting the perfect actress for the job (it was just a shame the story was so iffy). In Doom, it was including a full action-sequence shot in first-person perspective (it was just a shame the story was so iffy). In Hitman, it was some beautifully constructed action set-pieces (it was just a shame the story was so iffy).

The apparent supernatural bent being put on Max Payne is looking a bit iffy, but in terms of nice touches, this one is nice:



I particularly like the line, "I knew the sun would come up tomorrow, and I knew I would be alone to see it."

Amazing

I've actually caught up with all of my alerts!

Please tell me this is a joke...?!

O...kay...

As I mentioned earlier, I can't get a TV signal where I curently reside, so I'm reduced to using the BBC's 'iPlayer' to keep up with my favourite TV. While browsing said site this evening, I came across something that has left me bewildered.



From the network that brought us such greatness as Doctor Who, Never Mind the Buzzcocks and Life on Mars, we get d-list (and below) 'celebrities' dressed in silver lycra, trying to fit through a hole in a moving wall, all in the name of charity and entertainment.

Having browsed YouTube for the above - if only to clarify that I haven't fallen into some whiskey-induced hallucinogenic coma - I've found this exists as a Japanese show. No surprise there.

However, I've also found that there are both American and Australian versions of this incomprehensible shit.

I know our respective societies have been spiralling down the pughole for some time now, but I had, in my most fevered imaginings, never thought we'd fallen this far.

Excuse while I assume the foetal possition beneath my bed...

Fortunate Son

It has been a long time since I had a social life, so it feels kinda strange having my first night off for a week.

As I said previously, last Saturday I was out with friends, Sunday I was driving into the night and Monday I was out with housemates, among others.

Monday was, by some distance, the most exercise I've done for about two years, so Tuesday was spent in some pain. In fact, my calves were sore for two whole days.

Tuesday, my housemates and I stayed in for drinking, chatting and 'getting to know you'.

Wednesday was back out to a club where I got to know one of my housemates particularly well. Before anyone gets any ideas, she has a boyfriend, but we certainly bonded.

Thursday was even more clubbing and bonding, this time involving a stripper-pole. I never knew I could hang upside down from one of those, but I suppose it's something to bare in mind should finances go south...

Returning home at around 2:30, said housemate and I were up for over an hour nattering, eating and nattering, all of which meant I didn't wake up till 8:58 on Friday morning, which, seeing as I was supposed to be at uni to read out the piece I'd written as a result of Wednesday's field-trip at 9:15, wasn't good.

Nevertheless, I somehow made it and all went well. There are some damned good writers on my course...

Eep.

The session fortunately finished early, so I had time to come home and revive myself with a shower before heading back in to take advantage of the free food and drink on offer. Usually these things consist of coke/lemonade and a few sandwiches and canapés. On offer at this one was a free bottle of soft-drink or booze and lasagne (beef or veggie), Chinese or Balti, all piping hot, fresh and beautifully prepared.

I had the lasagne with a bottle of Bud, and a box of popcorn for desert.

With two housemates going home for the weekend, I figured last night would be night off, so settled in with a bottle wine. That was until about 10 when I was invited to one of the kitchens upstairs (there are two on every floor) for a 'Mexican-themed' party (they had rice and and Doritos). The glass or two of wine I planned on relaxing with ended up becoming the whole bottle and it was about 1 when I finally got to bed.

I slept in this morning, did some shopping this afternoon and have just finished eating pizza, drinking coffee and watching Die Hard 4.0 (featuring the above-posted track from Creedence Clearwater Revival). I'm now going to pour myself something alcoholic and watch a DVD before turning in for the night.

No beer and no TV make Bebbet something something...

Fortunately, I have beer, so it ain't all bad.

I'm here!

The months of waiting are over and I am, at last, in Cheltenham, ready to start my new life as a student. The past week has been a blur of induction meetings, furniture arranging, quicky-meal 'cooking', getting lost, finding pubs, getting to know people, getting pissed and recovering from getting pissed.

Last Saturday I drove Surrey top stay overnight with friends, to limit the amount of driving I'd have to do on Sunday. Cheltenham is a four-and-a-half hour drive from Sunderland, but only an hour and a half from Surrey. Unfortunately, the overnight stay involved going out for a friend of a friend's birthday, so I wasn't exactly in the fittest of states on Sunday. In fact, I was nursing a splitting headache all day, compounded by not being able to find a petrol (gas) station when the fuel warning light came on, then getting lost in Cheltenham trying to find the campus.

I had hoped to get there early and get away as soon as possible, so I could take my dad's car home.

After moving all of my stuff in and going through a bunch of meetings about accomadation rules, regulations, dos and don'ts, it was 6pm. Stopping off for fuel and something to eat on the way home (I hadn't eaten or had a smidgen of caffeine all day) it was 11:30 when I got home. I had time for a cup of tea and some last second packing before going to bed.

Monday was mostly spent on a train, including a half-hour unscheduled stop thanks to a signal failure. As advised by my head of department, I stopped in at the university as soon as I arrived, which proved to be an unnecessary excursion, but the campus is only a three minute walk from my halls of residence, so it wasn't so bad.

The mess I returned to, however, was bad. I hadn't had a chance to unpack anything on Sunday, so my room was all bags, boxes and lacking floor-space. I made some vacant attempt at unpacking, but once my TV, 360 and 'puter were done, I gave up, made my bed and joined some housmates on a night out.

Several hours of bouncing around a dance-floor and several fewer hours of sleep later, it was time for my first induction session. It was very dull as, it tunrs out, the rest were for the whole week, though Wednesday did see a group trip to the Victoria Art Gallery in Bath to draw some inspiration for a sample project.

There wasn't a lot to see at the gallery, but at least a dozen pieces triggered some form of story in my head. That would have been a good thing if not for the fact we had to deliver the finished piece yesterday morning.

Eventually I settled on a painting called The Bride of Death by Thomas Jones Barker (I've scoured the web for a decent picture, but come up lacking) and wrote this.

It's also worth noting that Bath is, at first glance, a rather beautiful city. When you look a little deeper, that traditional building façades are spoiled somewhat by the over-abundance of corporate logos and construction work, but it's still a very pleasant place to stroll around.

So, here I am. My room's as I want it (though could do with a couple of more posters), I'm getting along well with my housemates (one we never see, but the other four of us have hit it off well), I've been mistaken for Irish three times and everyone thinks I look 22, which is nice.

It's a shame I can't get a TV signal but, with the help of Comedy Central and iPlayer, I'm not missing much, and it does save me having to buy a TV license.

Classes start on Monday. By then I'll have hopefully caught up with alerts...

Ceremony

Inspired by Thomas Jones Barker's "The Bride of Death"

We have spent so long preparing for this night. We vowed that nothing would get in the way; that we would not be denied our ceremony.

She looks so beautiful in her gown; its simple beauty reflecting her own. White satin made almost crystalline in the moonlight. A full, glorious summer moon that turns her skin to porcelain. Her golden hair frames the personification of purity. A wondrous vision marred only by the slight gape of her pale lips and the strained, shallow rise and fall of her bosom. Her heart races with anticipation, as mine struggles even to crawl.

Calm yourself, my love. Soon it will be past.

My hand quivers feebly as I take up hers. It is cold to the touch, but her slender fingers grip strongly, as if she fears to ever let go. I feel like I should close the window, but she does so love the fresh ocean air.

In her other hand she holds her humble bouquet: Forget-me-nots that I picked for her that morning. I even made a small crown of them for her to wear.

It lies broken now, on her pillow.

She gently closes her mouth and draws in a long, deep breath that seems to fill her with life. And then she opens her eyes and, for a moment, my heart soars. She looks from me to my ever faithful companion and she smiles. She could always find peace in his big, soulful eyes. She said he would be my best man. And, indeed, a better friend I never knew.

Her smile fades and she closes her eyes.

I can hear distant church bells sing in chorus to the tide.

And my best friend howls his death lament, as The Reaper takes his bride.

The Same Old New Shit

The montage at around the five minute mark says it all:

The Best F**king News Team Ever

Giving a voice to the unheard victims of Gustav (WARNING: Contains images some may find upsetting):



(I'm a little behind on my Daily Show watching)

Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur

No, I can't pronnounce it either, but that's Icelandic for ya...



I wish there was an English-speaking band that could produce a sound like that. Anyone happen to know of one? I know The Polyphonic Spree come close, as do The Flaming Lips in their grander moments, but there's something majestic about Sigur Rós's sound that I don't think the rest can quite capture.

Last Shadow Puppets

I meant to post this ages ago, but kept forgetting its name :/

And It Was All Going So Well

Today started brightly enough. I've been waiting over a week to take delivery of Warcraft III and it finally arrived this morning, along with my new Visa card and the train tickets for the final leg of my move on the 15th.

I played through the introduction to Warcraft III and had fun doing so.

Then it all started to go a bit wrong...

Enrolment day at university has always been a messy one. Queue after queue wrapping around a sports hall of tired and frustrated new students all waiting for hours on end to get the relevant forms checked and signed and their ID cards given.

This being the internet age, however, enrolment can now be done online. The first step is to arrange payment of the tuition fees, if it hasn’t already been handled by the LEA (Local Education Authority). Mine hadn’t been so I checked the documentation they sent me to see if it said when they would be.

It didn’t.

Instead it claimed that I hadn’t even applied for them!

Traumatised, I tried to call the student finance direct helpline to find out what was going on, while I checked my online application to see if I’d really been that stupid.

I hadn’t.

There it was, plain as day: Do you wish to apply for a loan to cover your tuition fee costs? - Yes

Trauma turned to confusion and I made sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me by reading it a few times over while I waited in the queue for an operator.

Twenty minutes went by.

Displeased, frustrated and increasingly anxious, I decided to head down to the council offices and speak with the LEA people face-to-face. The woman I talked to looked confused, took my forms, disappeared into an office for ten minutes and returned with the expression of someone about to deliver bad news.

It seems that the LEA will only provide a loan for tuition fees four times and, since I’ve already had it twice before, they’re not going to give it this time and will instead hold it for the second and third years of the course. The £3,145 required for the first year, I’ll have to drum up myself.

I’m pretty sure, if there weren’t people standing around waiting to be dealt with, I still wouldn’t have swung for her, but it did take a lot of restraint not to put my fist through the glass panel behind me.

I tried to get some kind of explanation out of her as to why this restriction would be in place, seeing as they’re loans and are paid back eventually anyway, and why I wasn’t told my application had been unsuccessful a month ago when the decision was made and I might've had some time to prepare, but the best she could do was look uncomfortable and mumble something about that being how their system works.

I spent a coupla more minutes pointing out the gaping flaws in that system, increasing her discomfort in front of the other people she’d soon have to deal withh, before storming off in a bit of rage, leaving, “Nice of the Local Education Authority to completely fuck-up my education,” as a parting shot.

I pondered a little retail therapy and perhaps a large cuppa joe, but was in too bad a mood and chose to come straight home.

After gathering myself for a few minutes, I looked into the fee payment process on the uni’s site. Two instalments are taken in November and January, so I at least have some time to work something out. The measly £500 in my savings isn’t going to cut it, but it’s a start. Regardless, I set up the payment plan and completed the enrolment process.

Wanting to turn my mind to something else, I set about sorting through my DVD collection to figure what’s going with me. Pixie gave me the idea of taking them in a CD carry-case to save room and I fortunately have two; a 33 slot and a 64 slot. Still, deciding what stays and what goes was not
I don’t think I can afford to buy another case…

I Somehow Missed This

And I'm somewhat relieved:

Appealing to Old and New?

With the release of Death Magnetic only a couple of weeks away, the first couple of new Metallica tracks have hit YouTube.

First, The Day That never Comes:


Seeing as this was the first track to be released to the press, it's probably going to make some people nervous, especially if they give up after the first chorus as, up until that point, it is very remniscent of their 'Black Album' and Load/Reload days, but as the track moves on, it becomes increasingly louder and thrashier and builds to a dizzying climax. I like it!

Secondly, My Apocalypse:


An IGN review of this is what first made me aware the tracks were now out there in the ethos. In it, the reviewer defended the criticism he laid upon The Day That Never Comes;

"But all the extra verbiage in there about not being able to go back again – yeah, that part is wrong. I was wrong. I am here to admit that. James, Kirk, Lars, Robert, and even Rick – if you are reading this, all I can say is: I AM SORRY. I am coming to you as a man humbled."

He then goes on to claim that My Apocalypse is possibly the band's best song since Master of Puppets.

Now, this may be a result of my only coming into the band in the days of Load and Reload (I was an ignorant youth; what can I say?), but I personally prefer the former to the latter. It might have a very subdued opening, but the thrash-like ending puts me in mind of the band's progression from then to now, making me think the soft introduction was probably purposeful.

My first reaction to My Apocaplypse, however, was, Messy. Very messy. It kinda reminds me of first hearing Frantic on St. Anger; that almost desperate need to sound as thrash as possible in order to put the the '90s behind them.

That said, the track sounds a lot better on a second listen.

My Brain is Hanging Upside Down

Not only a great song, but quite possibly the best song title in the world, ever. This is The Ramones with My brain is hanging upside down (Bonzo goes to Bitburg).

Time To Sharpen Those Claws

Yes, I know; the quality sucks and the cheering is annoying, but this looks no less cool:

Late Delivery

Frustrating news in this month's edition of Discworld Monthly:

"The bad news is that it looks as if, for various reasons, Going Postal The Movie will be delayed and shooting will not begin until the start of next year."

The good and, to my mind, more important news is, they're making a movie of Going Postal!

Moist Von Lipwig is an absolutely brilliant character, but they're going to need someone of immense charisma - who can, in turn, play it down to a whisper - to pull it off.

Also, has anyone out there seen the adaptation of The Colour of Magic? I’d be particularly curious to know how Jeremy Irons measured up as Lord Vetinari, because the role is a significant one in Going Postal.

***EDIT***

A quick browse of Wiki has revealed a little more interesting news. With Nation due out next month, Pratchett has stated that his next novel is likely to be I Shall Wear Midnight; the fourth Tiffany Aching/Nac Mac Feegle novel. I love those books!

And:

"Pratchett hinted when questioned during his Wintersmith tour that Esk, the female wizard featured in Equal Rites, may reappear for the first time in this book if it is written."

Baton Idol

Recently, to celebrate the Proms (big classical music event held annually by the BBC), yet another TV 'talent' show hit our screens, this time challenging a group of C-and-below-list celebrities to become orchestral conductors.

From the off, this struck me as an interesting prospect. Before watching this show, I knew absolutely nothing about the nutters with batons who stand in front of an orchestra and flail their arms around like they're being attacked by a hive of wasps, so I was intrigued to find out exactly what was going on.

Of course, it turned out to be far more complicated than I expected, which is why I actually find myself admiring the people taking part. As is ever the case, a couple of them struggled to get a handle on what was going on, or failed to take it seriously, and were soon eliminated. Others are making steady progress and two in particular (comedian Sue Perkins and Drum&Bass vet Glodie) are proving to be naturals at it.

Another appeal of the show is the music. They're all conducting very familiar pieces, but I'm learning the names of things I've known all my life, but could never put a name to, and also seeing just how complex a lot of these pieces are. Case in point:



The biggest surprise of the show, however, is Goldie. For my American chums, he was a henchman in The World is Not Enough and British soap fans might recognise him from Eastenders, but he's mainly known as a Drum & Bass producer: Not the sort you'd expect to have a natural gift for conducting classical music - especially as he has no idea how to read sheet music - but his sense of rhythm and ability to break down compositions into a manageable form for himself have him riding high and consistanly impressing:



Alas, the most entertaining of the group - former Blur bassist Alex James - is also a consistent low-scorer, so might not be around much longer:



My one complaint about the show so far is, yesterday's episode had the contestants doing choral music, yet none of them was given Beethoven's 9th. Talk about missing a trick.

Hair-Metal: The Revenge

Last week saw the return of the Kerrang awards, with the usual shocks, surprises, drunkenness and Metallica.

One of the biggest shocks and surprises of the night was the lack of a single nomination for Muse, but maybe the magazine decided someone else should have a go at dominating.

Bizarrely, considering the attitude of many of their contemporaries towards them, 30 Seconds to Mars technically dominated with an award haul of two - double their closest competition - including best single:



Awards were also picked up by the more familiar faces of:

Slipknot


and Avenged Sevenfold


New boys like:

Black Tides


And a couple of oldies in the form of:

Def Leppard


Rage Against the Machine


and, of course, Metallica


An honourable mention must also go to the band with the single stupidest name of the night and, possibly, all metal history.

“Errr…we need something stark and, like, depressing and hard…”

“Like cancer?”

“Yeah, like cancer…”

“How about cancer?”

“Perfect! Right, we also need something like dark and black and evil and that…”

“Bats?”

“Genius! Cancer Bats!”

Proof, if proof be needed:

Well, it looks better than prior sequels...

...but then, that's not saying much:

Was Surprised to See This

Who'd have thunk?

Death and All His Friends

Yesterday's little tipsy post from our beloved Cherry has reminded me of a latest song fixation. Here be Coldplay with Viva La Vida:

Major Disappointment

For those who avoided my Disappointment post for it's warning of a spoiler, the crux was there is a major event in Philip Pullman's The Subtle Knife that was dealt with very poorly.

I've just read the following section of that chapter, only to find that it is, in fact, the end of the novel!

I'm all for a cliff-hanger ending, and there's no doubt that is exactly what Pullman was aiming for here, but he is so far of the mark I could weep. A cliff-hanger is supposed to make you think, Oh shit! What’s next? What’s next?!

My only thought at the end of The Subtle Knife is, That’s it?!

Don’t get me wrong, the events at the end of the novel should certainly add up to being a cliff-hanger, but they are down-played so much, it’s as if Pullman ran out of steam and decided to call it a day. Northern Lights/The Golden Compass has a brilliant ending, which not only rounds off the story perfectly, but leaves you gasping for more. In comparison, The Subtle Knife reads almost like a necessary evil that Pullman had to get through to bring up some plot-points and move the story on. It has its moments, but in the end I’m just grateful it’s only the middle of the story.

From Bad to Worse

Okay, it was understandable that the car chosen to represent KITT in the TV-Movie reboot of Knight Rider...



...was met with a frosty reception by the old-school fans, but what, in the name of all that is good and holy, possessed them to do this?!



I've more convincing vehicles on Power Rangers...

Disappointment

For those who haven’t read Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, and at some point intend to, look away now. A major spoiler follows (as well as a long rant).

I’m currently reading The Subtle Knife, and while it so far isn’t a patch on Northern Lights/The Golden Compass, I am enjoying the story as a whole.

However, I’ve just read the scene where Will finally meets his father, only to see him die after all those years of searching, and it is one of the most shoddily written scenes I have ever read. After building up the meeting throughout the first half of the novel, it comes and goes in the blink of an eye and in the coldest and least emotional way possible.

Feeling desperate, tired and utterly alone, Will wanders up a mountain on his own. A deep darkness descends and he’s suddenly accosted by some strange man, whom he fights and knocks the wind out of. Why this supposedly spiritual man would come across this kid on a mountain and decide to grab him and crack him across the back of the head when the kid tries to get free is beyond me.

When Will does free himself, does he call for help from the witches? Does he escape back to the camp to warn the others he’s just been attacked? No. He sits quite calmly and has a conversation with the man, going so far as to proffer him his wounded hand.

In darkness still too deep to see each other’s faces, the man applies a healing ointment to Will’s wounded hand, dresses it, then decides to light the lamp he’s carrying so he can see the boy’s face.

A brief flicker of recognition from them both, and the man’s shot and killed by the witch whose love he spurned many years previous (a plot point fleetingly referred to way back in the early part of the novel).

If it had been a cinematic scene, the moment between father and son, when the realisation dawns, would’ve been drawn out a little to show some kind of emotion between the two - confusion; relief; joy - and to allow the audience to connect with what’s happening. Obviously this is a bit trickier in a novel as simply stating, “The two experienced confusion; relief; joy,” is very dry and in no way conveys the intended emotions, but there are options. You could back-reference some of things each character has gone through to bring them to this moment; the trials they’ve overcome so they could finally find each other. You could delve into the characters’ memories of all the things they’d missed while they were apart. You could even have each character looking forward to all of the good things that will come now that they’re together again.

“But in that moment, as the lantern light flickered over John Parry’s face, something shot down from the turbid sky, and he fell back dead before he could say a word, an arrow in his failing heart.”

That’s it? They recognise each other, he’s shot with an arrow and dies?!

The confrontation between Will and the witch was well handled, but after she’s topped herself and Will has said an emotional farewell to his father, there immediately follows a bizarrely cold description of Will taking ‘the dead man’s’ things and spying his feather-trimmed cloak. “His father had no more use for it, and Will was shaking with cold.” I wonder if anyone could come up with anything more emotionally detached than ‘His father had no more use for it…’.

I know it’s only a small scene in the grand scheme of the trilogy, but that in itself is part of the problem. It should be one of the most emotionally powerful scenes in the novel and is instead dealt with as if it’s just another little obstacle along the way; as if Pullman wanted to get it out of the way so he could get to the ‘juicier’ stuff.

I such a huge and intricate story, crammed with such high quality writing, the whole scene is a massive let-down; a bizarre and confusing disappointment.

And How Do You Fight Your Demons?

I like it 'cause it's silly :D

The Wearable Motorcycle

Want one!



Check out the details.

Bit of a Dull Week

I got me new passport today. For the first time in the entire history of my photgraphic ID, I don't look like a complete tool.

The fact that this is one of the highlights of my week so far pretty much says it all.

It started on Saturday when I spent the whole day feeling frustrated, tired and boooored...

Sunday I visited my cousin and we put in a long spell of gaming (Crackdown on the 360; great fun), and watched some classic Family Guy.

Monday I finished Heavenly Sword on the PS3. I'd have probably appreciated the climax of the great story a lot more if the whole thing hadn't been such a pain in the arse, not because of the difficulty of bad-guys, but because of the crap camera and stupid design ideas.

Yesterday I watched the Olympics and played some World of Warcraft.

Today I've watched the Olympics and played some World of Warcraft.

Tomorrow I've got to sign on, after which I'll probably watch the Olympics and play some World of Warcraft.

Arrgh!!

There's another three and a half weeks to go before I can finally get out of here and get to university.

I think I need help...

Baldness, Beer-guts and Belting Riffs

After two and half decades, it's understandable that Metallica would be getting a little thin on top and wide down below. In fact, it's kinda sad to see Kirk Hammett - who's always sported long, curly locks (except for his thick-mane period of the early 90s) - developing a bald spot, which just barely distracts from the girth of his gut being shown off by an ill-advised vest.

Then again, when have Metallica ever been admired for their aesthetic appeal?

I'm presently in the middle watching the fly-on-the-wall footage of the recording of their new album. It's interesting seeing how it all comes together. I've watched rockumentaries before, but they tend to mostly consist of interview footage, with only minimal recording footage. Mission Metallica features regularly-updated studio footage, which makes for an interesting watch for someone who's always been fascinated by the process.

Of course, it also gives a sample of what's to come on The Death Magnetic and, so far, I'm liking what I'm hearing: Loud, fast and heavy :D

Unforgiven

This probably won't be big news to many of you (I know Twisty won't care one jot...whatever a jot is), but I've just heard that Metallica's new album is going to feature Unforgiven III, which I personally see as cause to post two of my favourite Metallica songs:

Believe

This was perhaps the most haunting and original of the many Halo 3 trailers around just prior to its release:



With the coming of yet another epic to the 360, the idea has been somewhat borrowed to admirable affect:

Immortel

Earth, 2095. A pyramid appears above New York and, from it, emerges Horus, Egyptian god of the sky, released from an eternal slumber to walk the Earth for seven days; time aims to use to mate with a rare woman who can bare a god's child.

Where to begin...?

This film is weird. The setting reminds me a lot of The Fifth Element with a starker colour palette. Cars float around the city, or ride around on rails. The high-rise streets are populated with a mix of humans, aliens and mutants. A lot of the designs for both vehicles and buildings have an art-deco look. It's certainly a feast for the eyes.

As is the lead, Jill; a tall, slim, white-skinned, blue 'haired' woman who can read minds, shoot people with the palm of her hand and permanently dye human skin blue with her tears.

With the exception of Jill - played by French actress Linda Hardy adopting a very convincing non-European accent - and one or two others in elaborate costume, the whole non-human cast is rendered in CGI. It seems very strange at first, given these characters are all humanoid and look as close to human as it was possible to get with CGI four years ago, but it fits with the overall odd look of the film. Because everything is coloured so starkly, and the whole thing looks so surreal anyway, the CGI characters don't look as out of place as they might've done in a more straight-forward or colourful sci-fi.

Immortel is a strange film with a convoluted plot and bizarre aesthetic, but it's captivating, atmospheric and immensely original.

From the Heart

Over in the Inferno, Dante reminded me of a little something special from our dearly departed lord and saviour, Mr. Bill Hicks (you might want to turn your speakers down just a smidge):

Early Morning Pick-Me-Up

Yet More Moozack!

Every now and then my randomised playlist lands on a forgotten gem that I love when I hear it, but immediately forget about when it's finished.

So I wrote today's on my hand with the specific intent on posting it right here for you all to enjoy:



Also, Shirley Manson really does it for me, and not just because of her antics with the blow-up doll...

Doing It With A Touch of Class

I hate perfume ads; they're so gut-wrenchingly pointless and stupid. A pair of ridiculous-looking, scrwany models in ripped jeans, whispering vapid little lines at each other that hold all the passion and romance of a cat-shit kebab, rendered in black & white in a desperate attempt to make the whole thing look artistic.

Ironic, then, that the one time they get it right, the ad is banned. Thank god for the internet :D

Yes, she's talking bollocks, and yes, it's rendered in black & white to try to make it look more artistic and less pornographic, but let's face it, it's Eva Mendes.

Who Watches the Watchmen?

On the strength of the novel, I'm going to hazard a guess at 'lots of people'.

Having finally finished the book, I can see from the trailer that many key scenes have been faithfully reconstructed, but I still wonder at how certain elements will be handled by Zak Snyder. For example, big chunks of back-story and characterisation are handled by long prose pieces - taking the form of official reports, newspaper columns, novel extracts and press interviews - interspersed throughout the novel. The story can probably be told without them, but if the writers and director are keen to remain faithful to source, then they will have to be at least alluded to in some way.

There is also something quite radical - dare I say, silly - about the maniacal scheme behind the main plot-arch. How that will translate on screen, and how audiences will react to it - especially those who haven’t read the novel - I don’t know.

Snyder and co. certainly have some tough decisions to make. However, he did bring us the excellent 300 so, whatever the result, I’ve no doubt it will be entertaining…

And all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save us!'...

...and I'll look down, and whisper 'no.'

And thus opens Alan Moore & David Gibbon's Watchmen. It finally arrived this morning (after two weeks of waiting) and I'm loving it. Grim and brutal, highly stylised and a fascinating read so far.

It's one of four books I now have on the go. Not bad for someone who's always been a slow reader.

The majority of my reading time is going towards Philip Pullman's The Subtle Knife; the sequel to the truly magnificent Northern Lights/The Golden Compass. It seems a lot more complex than Northern Lights, which makes it more diffuicult to get into, but Pullman's characters and style and the scope and quality of the story as a whole keep me hooked. I would focus more attention towards it, but it's part of a rather large omnibus edition of His Dark Materials, so it isn't exactly portable.

So, when out and about, I'm reading Terry Pratchett's Making Money; the sequel to the truly magnificent Going Postal. Let's face it, Pratchett's a safe bet. Making Money picks up right after the events of its predecessor and is so far just as funny, just as intelligent and just as all-round entertaining.

Finally, there's China Miéville's Perdido Street Station. I get the feeling I've mentioned this one before, but can't remember where and when. It's a very difficult one to describe, being a very dark, dour, often depressing and overtly intense, but ultimately fascinating fantasy. It's a heavy read, which is why I started reading The Subtle Knife in order to break it up, and if I'm honest, I probably won't be going back to it till I've at least finished Pullman's great opus. Still, it's inventive and original, with writing of a very high standard, and I know one or two of you out there would get a kick out of it.

I'm now off to do some shopping...

Old Men on the Corner (creeping-out the kids)

So, New Kids on the Block are back.

I'll just leave you to digest that for a moment...

...

Done?

Hollywood's current love of the reboot is understandable, given the success of the franchises that have done it, but the pop world has so far failed to repeat that success. Okay, so Take That managed a sell-out tour and chart-topping album of new stuff (which was shit), but everyone else who's tried recently has bombed. The Spice Girls, All Saints, Boyzone and the Backstreet Boys all returned to the scene with a minor blip of excitement from their now far post-pubescent fans, before quietly sinking back into the pit they'd dragged themselves from.

I get that has-beens must hanker after recapturing the old magic, and it isn't a huge surprise that four of the five would be keen on the idea of reforming, having done sweet fanny-adams in the past two decades. What baffles me is the return of Donnie Whalberg.

Shortly after splitting from the rest of the 'Kids', Whalberg became an actor with starring roles in a couple of films and a few successful series (including a fantastic turn in Band of Brothers). Whatever possessed him to agree to this god-awful heap of dog excrement…



…is beyond me.

I’ve little doubt that, on the evidence of the above, this will be another short-lived stumble back into the limelight before the world can return to being the happier place it was when they first split, but we must now live under the umbrella of fear that Donnie’s brother Marky-Mark might start reminiscing about the good ol’ days with the Funky Bunch.

Saints preserve us!

The Night is Darkest Before the Dawn

And it seems, when that dawn is 30 days away, the night is very dark!

Yes, another day, another comic-book adaptation; this time, 30 Days of Night. Josh Hartnet (who I've, till now, hated in everything he's been in except Black Hawk Down) is the sheriff of a sleepy little town in the far, frozen north that goes 30 days without sunshine. One dusk, a bunch of particularly vicious vampires roll into town and make a particularly big mess of the locals.

Continuing with Hollywood's new-found love of holding no barrs, the story-telling is kept very minimalist in favour of showing the gruesome vamps doing gruesome stuff and looking decidedly gruesome (black eyes, pale skin, long, sharp nails and a full set of very sharp teeth, covered in blood both fresh and stale throughout).

If anything, the story-telling is a little too minimalist. For example, we're never told how a nine year-old girl manages to survive almost a month in a frozen town all on her lonesome, with nothing but hungry monsters for company. Though I appreciate the idea of cutting through the crap and getting straight to fun stuff, the side-effect is certain scenes coming across as random and/or silly.

In fact, the plot movement is incredibly jumpy, with the first 20 or 30 minutes setting things up over the course of a single day, before jumping to a week into the ordeal then, without warning, 29 days.

It's also a shame the vampires aren't developed further. For all their brutality, the head of the pack is a fan of making speeches (in some undisclosed language) and everything he says and does seems to hint at some deeper story that is never told.

On the other hand, the story-telling mechanic does prevent a lot of the usual horror-movie clichés (or, at least, sweeps them aside before they wrench your gut too much) and it also helps keep the pace up, despite the number of quieter scenes, in place to crank up the tension.

All-in-all, despite its patchiness, it’s a lot of fun, with some great effects and set-pieces and masses of gore, as well as solid performances from the leads (Hartnet and the head vamp in particular).

What's Not to Love?

Robert Rodriguez directing Rose McGowan in a chain-mail bikini, swinging a sword. Yes please...

Warning: This Review Contains Gushing

How to sum up The Dark Knight...

I'll start with the negatives. Christian Bale's growling is a bit odd and Heath Ledger's performance makes the tragedy of his death all the more sour, as we'll never get to see it again.

I'm now out of negatives.

My heart pounded, my breath caught in my throat and at one point I even jumped! I never jump, which just goes to highlight the intensity of the film.

And it is intense. There's been a trend in Hollywood over the past year for film-makers to avoid pulling-punches, and Goyer and the Nolans (that’s Jonathan and Christopher, not the 70’s girl-group) are no exception.

Another Hollywood trend in recent years, when it comes to the big franchises, has been to make a hugely successful, entertaining and innovative first film, and then go nuts with the sequel, cramming as much in as possible and ending up with something convoluted and silly. With a new suit, new vehicle, new technology, two new major villains, a ton of grand set-pieces and even some globe-trotting, it would have been easy for The Dark Knight to go the same way, but the whole thing is put together masterfully.

In fact, the writing is some of the best I’ve seen in a very long time. There are plot and character developments handled better in these two and a half hours than I’ve seen in an entire franchise. Not a single character is wasted and the innovation surrounding The Joker’s motivations in particular is inspiring.

The cast, too, are all on top form. Of course, Bale doesn’t seem to have any level other than top form and the rest of the returning cast all have their roles expanded and are all more than up to the task. Indeed, it’s a good thing Katie Holmes bowed out of playing Rachel Dawes again, because there is no way she’d have been up for the type of performance required. Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Rachel was slyer, wittier, more intelligent, more intense and more passionate than Holmes could’ve managed.

As for the other newbies; I was very impressed with Aaron Eckhart. To date, the only thing I can remember seeing him in is The Core, in which he played the standard disaster movie hero, but he very much shows his acting chops as Harvey Dent who, on the surface, comes across as little more than an incorruptible do-gooder, but has layers to his personality ***POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT***even before the inevitable tragedy of his tranformation***POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT OVER***

But, let’s face it, it’s Heath Ledger who steals the show. It’s an understatement to say I was sceptical when I heard he’d been cast as The Joker. I knew him as the Antipodean, blond pretty-boy from Casanova and A Knight’s Tale. The Joker? And a Joker in a darker, grittier Batman universe? Are you mad?!

The perfect blend of twisted, crazy, savage and nutty. In the blink of an eye he can go from hilarious to horrific to unerringly calm and coherent. His physical, vocal and emotional performances perfectly tailored to the character.

Mad?

No.

Inspired.

It’s said that rumours of a posthumous Oscar nomination were a little hasty, but I struggle to see how anyone can possibly top that performance.

The bottom line is, believe the hype. This is the best ever Batman film, one of the best Batman stories ever told, the best film of the year so far and probably one of my favourite films of all time.

Pass? Pfft!

I got the official results for my college course today. Gloucestershire required passes (40%) across the board to get onto the Creative Writing course:

Psychology - Merit (57%)
English Literature - Credit (67%)
English Language - Distinction (71%)

The latter two I already knew (at least, I knew them as preliminary results), but I wasn't so sure about Psychology. I was pretty sure I'd passed, and thought just maybe I might've edged a Merit, so it's good to see I actually got a very comfortable Merit. I've no idea how; I only completed half of the exam...

This afternoon I'm celebrating by going to see The Dark Knight, then possibly taking myself out for a drink.

Doctor Horrible

Over at Vox, Sarai made a post about a new Joss Whedon project that she'd never heard of.

Neither had I.

Went to the link: http://www.drhorrible.com/

Loved every minute :D

I then read the letter written by Whedon about the poject and a particular detail caught my eye:

ONE WEEK ONLY! AN INTERNET MINISERIES EVENT!

"Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog" will be streamed, LIVE (that part’s not true), FREE (sadly, that part is) right on Drhorrible.com, in mid-July. Specifically:

ACT ONE (Wheee!) will go up Tuesday July 15th.

ACT TWO (OMG!) will go up Thursday July 17th.

ACT THREE (Denouement!) will go up Saturday July 19th.

All acts will stay up until midnight Sunday July 20th. Then they will vanish into the night, like a phantom (but not THE Phantom – that’s still playing. Like, everywhere.)

That's right, people, the clock is ticking, so take 45 minutes out of your day and go watch the genius that is this: http://www.drhorrible.com/

This sentence is extraneous and I'm really disappointed in you for reading it when you should have already clicked the link and be enjoyng the show. GO!!