New Yorkers showing solidarity for the bankers on Wall Street (as seen on last night's Have I Got News for You):
Saturday 25 October 2008
Thursday 23 October 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday 22 October 2008
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.
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.
Thursday 16 October 2008
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.
Monday 13 October 2008
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.
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.
Saturday 11 October 2008
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!
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!
Friday 10 October 2008
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'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!
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!
Thursday 9 October 2008
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...
Thursday 2 October 2008
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):
Last night, it was thi (give it till at least the third verse):
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