| Last Will And Testament |
[20 Feb 2003|06:50pm] |
You have been watching:
AJ
KM
RA
RN
VF
Goodnight, thank you, and may your God go with you.
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| The Taste Of Cold Steel |
[18 Feb 2003|05:09pm] |
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Sometimes we come to the correct answers for all the wrong reasons and we are not even aware of it.
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| Fuck It All |
[13 Feb 2003|06:30pm] |
Redefine
Realign
Redesign
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| Splinter |
[12 Feb 2003|09:57am] |
Slept by your side
Pale skin, red rose
The colour of desire
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| Eternity’s Window |
[26 Jan 2003|09:46pm] |
Change me forever for I am bored with what I have become.
The meeting of two personalites is like the contact of two chemical substances. If there is any reaction, both are transformed.
- Carl Gustav Jung
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| The Five Second Version - They All Die |
[14 Jan 2003|11:23pm] |
This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
- Lord Polonius
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| Fragment |
[12 Jan 2003|02:19am] |
Can you hear the summer ending?
The birds falling silent?
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| 6:45am On The Slow Train |
[02 Jan 2003|06:44am] |
I wonder how many of us would, if offered, go back and do everything over again. Make different choices, look to correct those mistakes.
An ex of mine had a very traumatic past and one night during a conversation the topic came up about would you want to change your past and she replied no; because she was happy with who she was and her past, be it good or bad, formed who she was now.
But I still wonder if given the chance, we wouldn’t take it.
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| If You Build It They Will Come |
[02 Jan 2003|03:42am] |
Two guys walk into a bar.
That’s all really. I just always wanted to start a story with that line. Yea I know, what happened to the story. Fuck knows but there you go.
Random thoughts:
I think three years ago I was happy.
There is nothing more terrifying then a blank page staring back at you while your mind is alive with ideas.
Cell phones are the work of the devil.
Short or long a distraction is still a distraction and that’s all we ever are to you.
I miss waking up next to you/someone.
How old do you have to be before ennui sets in?
Why is my timing out by six months?
Why are you still reading this?
The longest part of the day is 4:00am.
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| A Mote In God’s Eye |
[02 Jan 2003|02:45am] |
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I feel ill. Not the kind of ill from drinking too much or the kind from flu but the kick in the stomach kind; where the mind causes it to bunch up in knots; caused only by words in passing. This is a fast track to a grade A plutonium class ulcer. You would of thought by now that this would all be in the past. Early morning on the second day of my awakening and still not coming to terms with being replaced by the hundred thousand names of god. Why have one when you can have them all.
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| This One Goes Out To The One I Love |
[15 Nov 2002|05:09pm] |
Mirror mirror on the wall…
One hand going through hair that is lank and dried with sweat. Another night, another morning. Standing in front of the mirror, having conversations with myself; those long dead souls. And again I ask why? No answers are forthcoming, not that I expected any. Cohen and Stipe are bleeding into one another. Do you see these words, these pretentious heartbeats for what they are?
...Fractured landscapes from it all
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| Hey God It's Me, Fuck You |
[10 Nov 2002|04:19pm] |
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
Hey Rach I think I broke the Fuck 'O Meter.
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| Random Thoughts |
[05 Nov 2002|04:42pm] |
I have nothing to post but I should so I will plagiarise one of my emails. Yes I know, it makes me lazy but...
There’s a gentle drizzle of rain outside and it's so mild that you wouldn't know its autumn if it wasn't for the fallen leaves all wet from the rain drops.
And while I’ve been eating dinner in the kitchen I could see the fireworks going off in the distance lighting up the night sky in pretty colours of the rainbow. Even as I type this I can hear the loud bangs that tell me Guy Fawks Night is fast approaching.
Canada had this bookshop that was below ground. It was opposite the MacDonald’s and next to the Baskin and Robbins. It became a regular occurrence to visit it when the family was in the area. I have no idea what my parents did while I went over to the magazine section to check out the latest comics be it the x-men or archie, though truth be told it was more often archie then any of the others. And while my eyes were drinking in the latest goings on of the Riverdale posse, my ears were soaking in classical music. There was none of this muzik you find in supermarkets or lifts but real, gods honest classical music. I think the shop sold music as well but if it did I never looked at it. Yet that heady mixture of differing art forms is a memory that I still hold. And when I walk into book shops now I find part of me is disappointed not to hear classical music gentle playing in the background, welcoming me in, telling me to stay.
There is something special about bookshops, almost reverential. All that knowledge lining the walls just waiting for someone to come along and ingest it, to become part of it. But one step up is the secondhand bookshop. I don't know if it's the smell or all these books that have been lovingly devoured that are on offer or even if it's the anticipation of finding a long lost treasure that is no longer in print. Here in London we have charring cross road. A street full of bookshops second hand and new. A place to lose yourself in the written word. Some of these shops seem to of been around for ever, with their maze like interiors of bookcases spread over several floors, taking on almost the aspects of an antique store; dark and musty with hidden gems to be found around the corner. And others are new and clean, with everything layered out neatly. But what ever type of shop, as long as it's second hand I find my fingers trailing along the spines of these books. I have no idea why I do this, why this is only with a second hand book; almost as if it was some religious artifact.
Today I went into a charity shop because the last time I was in there, there were some books I wanted but did not have the money for and it's only open on Saturday. Charity shops are a haven for cheap books. Usually they won't have anything of interest but where they score over secondhand bookshops is in price. The charity shop today had all their books at 25p (35 cents or so) or six books for a pound ($1.50). I mean how can you go wrong, as long as there are several that you are interested in. So I looked for the ones I was after, hoping they were still there and also browsed for anything new. And sometimes as I was saying charity shops can be great value. Six asimov, 1 robert e howard, 1 bruce stirling, 1 iain banks, 1 frank herbert and all for a couple of quid.
It was the charity shop that set these thoughts off and I finally understand when writes say how they had to write the story or the article or whatever because they needed to get the thoughts in the head down on paper, almost as a form of exorcism. to often I don't put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and the thoughts just leach out into the ether to lost forever and that’s the thing about writes, that what they don't want to happen. They need to let the thoughts become a book and not be lost for ever.
I can still hear the fireworks going off this autumns night.
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| More Miscellaneous Paper From The Wallet |
[27 Oct 2002|03:59pm] |
| Things Done |
Things To Do |
| Long Island Big Duck |
Coney Island |
| PATH Train |
Ellis Island |
| Batcave |
The Cloisters |
| New York Halloween Parade |
McSorley's |
| The Best Bar On Earth |
The Brooklyn Bridge |
| The Alamo |
Bronx Zoo |
| Times Square |
Statue Of Liberty |
| Wall Street |
CBGB's |
| Broadway |
Windows On The World |
| Metropolitian Museum Of Art |
Yankee's Game |
| New York Cab |
Duck At China Town |
| Dojo's |
Make A Tardis |
| ACE Bat |
NYC Limelight |
| NJ and Long Island |
Jersey Shore |
| Brooklyn Heights |
Empire State Building |
| Hell's Kitchen |
Sound Scultptures At A Subway Station |
| Love Saves The Day |
And Anything Else I Have Left Out |
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| And So The Nightmare Begins |
[22 Oct 2002|11:10pm] |
The first film I can remember going to see was Star Wars for my birthday. It was also the first film I saw multiple times. As a side note the second film I saw on my birthday was The Nude Bomb. Now that was a fucking great concept a bomb that made you nude.
But Star Wars was the film I loved. Saw it at the theatre. Rented it on laser disk. Have various versions on video and hopefully Lucas will give it to us, all in it’s DVD beauty. I can remember the joy of going to see The Empire Strikes Back only to leave the theatre thinking ‘fuck, is Darth Vader Luke’s father.’ And even with The Return Of The Jedi and it’s comfy, cuddly, care bear impersonating Ewoks, it still rocked as a film and tied up the trilogy in way that left everyone happy.
Now at this stage you probably are thinking that I’m about to launch into a tirade about how Lucas decided to rape our minds, destroying our childhood memories with The Phantom Menace and Attack Of The Clones and while that is true, this is not what this is all about.
No before PM and AOTC, Lucas gave us a warning of things to come, of the fact that maybe, god forbid, the Star Wars franchise was not to be left in his hands because here was a man that could not be trusted. Yes I am talking about the Star Wars Holiday Special. That two hour extravaganza of story and song that came after Star Wars and before The Empire Strikes Back.
I can remember seeing it the first time around and how I cried when the Storm Trooper ripped the head off of Lumpy’s stuffed Bantha but that’s about all I can remember. And yet those in the know have nothing nice to say about it. So how could I not sit and revisit my childhood when I downloaded a copy the other day from the wonderful world of the internet. Burning a copy onto CD so that I could watch it on the DVD player in the front room; I settled down to watch a piece of lost Star Wars.
I’m half way through it and it takes on a whole new meaning of the word bad. For those who do not remember the story, here is a brief recap. Chewie and Han are on the way to Chewie’s family to enjoy Life Day and the Imperials are after Chewie and Han. That’s about it. The first 5-10 minutes are taken up with Chewie’s family talking. That’s taking in Wookie, with no sub titles. This was not a good start. Every now and then some band like Jefferson Starship would sing a song. I’m only half way through. I still have the Boba Fett cartoon to look forward to (yay), Carrie Fisher singing (cringe), the Bantha’s head being ripped off (whaaaa).
The problem with the Holiday Special isn’t how bad it is but how terminally boring it is. As you watch it, you can feel your brain melting, as it seeps out of your ears. Lucas has been heard to say that he would like to round up every copy and take a hammer to it and frankly I don’t blame him.
But here’s the thing. If Lucas had shown the Holiday Special as a short, before the main feature of PM or AOTC, then we’d all be loving those films because next to the Holiday Special they are films of Wellian proportions. Mind you next to the original trilogy they still suck and make you believe that Lucas is unfit to direct.
Stanley Kubric refused to allow A Clockwork Orange to be shown in Britain and yet when he died one of the first things that was done was to release it on DVD. Makes you laugh, it really does; especially as they said it was a fitting tribute to the man. Now mark my words, the moment Lucas dies, the Holiday Special will be released on DVD and it will be one of the biggest selling DVDs ever. And will I buy a copy, of course, I’m a Star Wars Whore.
Right now I need to sike myself up to watch the second half or maybe I’ll track down Mark Hamill on the Muppet Show because if there ever was a concept not explored fully it was Kermit and co helping the Rebels fight off Darth Vader.
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| If Only |
[19 Oct 2002|10:28pm] |
DOCTOR
I said we were an explosive combination.
MASTER
Yes, but how did it happen? How did we get back here? Who are you? What are you?
DOCTOR
We were at university together. Remember?
MASTER
You’re not a Time Lord.
The Doctor winces, not wanting to get into this.
DOCTOR
Well, strictly speaking… that is to say… well, not just a Time Lord. We all have to evolve a bit as the years go by. Evolve or become extinct.
MASTER
What are you?
DOCTOR
Shall we just say I’m multi-talented?
MASTER
What are you going to do with me?
DOCTOR
You asked me to rescue you. Consider yourself saved. Do what you like.
The Doctor walks to the TARDIS. The Master looks after him
MASTER
Time Lord or not, Doctor, you will find I cannot be so easily ignored!
The Master grabs a kitling that has been watching
MASTER
Until another time, Doctor, another time.
DOCTOR
Wait! Don’t be an idiot! Where can you go?
But the Master has vanished
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