Exquisite Prose despite an Excitable Nose

When I sit with my laptop to type these posts, I usually have no content in mind. Other times, I do have an idea in mind. These two different types of post can be split into two categories: Good, and Completely Batshit Crazy Bad. So today, I thought I'd make a confession.

I'm a page-huffer.

Yes, I love the smell of pages. Books, magazines, comics, it doesn't matter. I like the tactile feel, the wonderful look and the luxurious smell.

Okay, so it's kinda weird. But I'm like that a lot. My sense of smell is oddly high up in the hierarchy of my senses; one of the things I most notice about my copy of Batman: Year One is that, despite being second hand, still smells of the wonderful and exquisite ink used to create it. In fact, at this very moment, I am wafting the smell by flipping the pages.


Anyway, moving on. I've been considering, alongside my partner in crime George, to start collecting the books in the Cthulhu mythos. As a fan of literature and a hopefully soon-to-start-budding writer, I feel the need; nay, the urge to amass a collection of books by the greatest of the great. I have already, tentatively, begun with George R.R. Martin and his A Song of Ice and Fire series of high fantasy cinderblocks (I have often said that due to the immense size of them - even as paperbacks - if enough of them were amassed you could construct a structurally sound house).


With this, I am going to begin my wrangling of classic and influential literature and proceed to carve my own niche out of the hard granite of people's bookshelves. Failing this, I can always attempt to wow people with my large collection of books while I photograph/play guitar/paint them (delete as appropriate).

It's odd how my style of writing can change so dramatically so quickly. Simply looking back a few posts, you can see the radical shift from semi-formal prose-esque writing to conversational, informal, HEATHEN writing. It's honestly quite disconcerting; however, perhaps it is necessary. When writing, especially in fiction, dialogue is not usually formal in tone; people nowadays don't speak the way I am writing right now.

Of course, I am omitting the people who plague the world with their bastardised version of language; this 'text' speak of theirs is honestly quite revolting. I would rather leap out of a spacecraft, reach terminal velocity and then land eyeball first on a mountain of sharp glass shards and salt before willingly subjecting myself to some of the horrors that are out there - or, indeed, using it myself.

Even in forum posts they choose to decry all facets of the normal English language and type as though they are a dead monkey with two and a half fingers. Not to mention the seedy underbelly of people who choose to comment on something for the sole reason of typing 'first' and then leaving, never to be seen again. The internet, although extremely wondrous, is fuel for the thousands of people who hide behind their anonymity and choose to show complete contempt for the human race. Such people should be rounded up and labeled "cannon fodder" before being used in military exercises.

Rant over. Therefore, Sraen Out.

Groooooaaan

Today was spent being horrifically lazy; primarily on the sofa watching a mix of Top Gear/Who's Line is it Anyway?/Star Trek (repeat ad infinitum). I should have been working. I wanted to work. But it was just a....'bleargh' day.

I was also cold.

Anyway, I've nigh finished my portrait. Just a few touchups and then I'm done. Photos later this evening or tomorrow.


That is all.


Sraen Out.

Painterly habits

Just a quick photo-post update on my self portrait; I'm almost done!

Onto the photos:




My 'workspace'. Note a copy of Batman: Year One for reference



The first lick of paint going down...



Blocking in the colours...



And almost finished!


I'm getting rather proud of this piece. Hopefully it'll shut up the idiots who made fun of the one that I screwed up in class...


Sraen Out.

Miller_Fan142

While the subject of comic bookery may be an alien concept to most people, I relish in it. One of my prized possessions is a copy of Batman: Year One in excellent condition; indeed, when I flip through it, I can smell the residue of Frank Miller's genius.

So, in that vein, I have chosen to emulate the style of his comics for the self-portrait I have to do in art. Observe:

From Self Portrait...

The basic pencils. I think it does a pretty good job of recreating myself in 'comic' form; and, to be perfectly honest, I think it's pretty damn snazzy.

Now I just hope that I don't screw it up completely with the paints like I did my OTHER self portrait. As of writing, it looks like I painted a burn victim. Yeah. Nasty.


In other news, Samsung have released a 40" full HD television. Now, that's pretty common nowadays. But the big selling point is that it's only 1cm thick.



1cm.

It makes my Bravia look positively OBESE. Hell, it makes ANY TV on the market look huge.

And I want one.

But until it becomes profitable to put off coursework until the last possible minute, I'll have to pine alone. Sans-Samsung.


Sraen Out.

Go for the head.

I did mean to continue posting last week; I just got very piled up with pre-Half Term work. For instance, on Friday I was literally herded into one of the computer labs for the entire day to work on my (admittedly late) IT coursework. And then yesterday, I went to London to see Othello (which is a magnificent play [yes, I used bold AND italicised text. It's just that good.]). So yes, I've been quite busy; and felt quite guilty about not updating and contributing to ye old blogosphere (said in a Sean Connery accent).

But thankfully, it is half term for - get this - the whole of next week. You heard me. Five days off, added with the weekends which are on either side of the week, equals seventeen.

Wait. That's wrong.

After consultation with Cthulu (he's one of my poker buddies), it actually equals to ten free days. Ten days off. Ten days to myself. Ten days where, if I wished, I could quietly overthrow an Asian island-nation. Ten days I could spend stalking my next victim before jumping out, cleaver in hand, to demonstrate the dangers of running while waving a cleaver around (they then get a free hug). Ten days to get to work on my musical composition, which (at the moment) is merely a foetus of an idea etched in graphite onto stolen manuscript. And yes, I have just realised what a horrific analogy that was. I apologise profusely.

I will attempt to, instead of subtly (and not so subtly) manipulating everybody around me into a bloody conclusion in the style of Iago just because I'm bored, make posts in a semi-regular manner. I may continue with my previous thread of thought, foraging through the YouTube undergrowth to find emotive music with emotive videos.

Or I could continue reading about World War Z. World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War is a truly magnificent work by the creator of The Ultimate Zombie Survival Guide - Max Brooks - covering the human factor of what would happen if we ignore the impending threat of a Zombie Apocalypse (or as my peer Hallum insists on calling it, an Apocalypse Level Event). It's a fascinating read for anybody who has ever enjoyed George A. Romero's works, or anybody who likes stories about people in impossible situations.

It's told in the form of a retrospective documentary, a series of interviews conducted with various people from all walks of life. The introduction makes clear that this was gathered for a United Nations report (the United Nations Postwar Commission Report), but was deleted for being 'too intimate'. Thus, he had access to people from every level. Pilots who landed in the midst of Zack territory (areas where the zombies had taken over totally) and was guided to safety by a voice in their head; insane, emotionless planners who created a plan that effectively threw millions to the horde for the good of a few; the head of DeStRes (Department of Strategic Resources) who completely restructured the US Military; an artist and historian who holed up in Windsor Castle with the Queen during the occupation, and learnt how to use a Scottish Claymore. Each story is different and each story is connected; each story feels real, feels like a real interview. Brooks takes the role of the interviewer, his bold-font questions occasionally splitting up the stories of the people. But that's what this story is really about; breathing, living, human people.

It never shies away from the reality of wars; human beings lie, cheat and steal when faced with situations where they could die. We don't live up to our own ideals most of the time, because we are inherently flawed with selfishness. I shall post this excerpt in closing:

*****************************

"We're going to be okay." That was our message. That was the message of every other film-maker during the war. Did you ever hear of The Hero City?


Of course.


Great film, right? Marty made it over the course of the Siege. Just him, shooting on whatever medium he could get his hands on. What a masterpiece: the courage, the determination, the strength, dignity, kindness and honor. It really makes you believe in the human race. It's better than anything I've ever done. You should see it.


I have.


Which version?


I'm sorry?


Which version did you see?


I wasn't aware...


That there were two? You need to do some homework, young man, Marty made both a wartime and postwar version of The Hero City. The version you saw, it was ninety minutes?


I think.


Did it show the dark side of the heroes in The Hero City? Did it show the violence and the betrayal, the cruelty, the depravity, the bottomless evil in some of those "heroes'" hearts? No, of course not. Why would it? That was our reality and it's what drove so many people to get snuggled in bed, blow out their candles, and take their last breath. Marty chose, instead, to show the other side, the one that gets people out of bed the next morning, makes them scratch and scrape and fight for their lives because someone is telling them that they're going to be okay. There's a word for that kind of lie. Hope.

*****************************

And with that, Sraen Out.

Music With Meaning

I thought I'd do some YouTube-oriented posts this week - mostly sharing some awesome music with some amazing videos.

First and foremost: Hunted By A Freak, by Mogwai. One of their most beautiful songs with an amazingly haunting video:



The song itself is one of Mogwai's wonders. They manage to take some simple scraps of music and transform it into a haunting melody; it's this skill, the skill of composition, that I sorely need and which Mogwai have in abundance.

The video is another hugely beautiful facet of the song; it gives the song a whole new context - what was originally 'just' another minor-keyed sad song done in Mogwai's style, the video tells a true story about how horrible people can be. I'm sure that out there, somewhere, a person actually does that to animals. I can't help but watch the video with a sense of dread, knowing what's going to happen. It's a horrific insight into something we all wish didn't happen but which we all know does.

**********

Okay, so that's the first one. I'll try and keep the videos coming in at a regular pace, cause it pads my post count. Yay!

Also, James has written a rather good post about things he hates, Room 101 style. I'll make my own in the next few days, but thank James for the meme.

Finally, Jo has a really good blog. Who rants. Rants and rants and rants in the most hilarious way. Check her out!

Now I need to go and try to learn Windowpane by Opeth. I hope my fingers don't mutiny on me; I've only a week to learn it.


Sraen Out, with a gee-tar on mah back.

HMV is run by monkeys who throw turds

Aah. Things have wound down enough for me to catch a few moments of reprieve for some blogging; mostly because I have an "Academic Review Day" tomorrow, which essentially means I have the day off apart from a one-on-one with my form tutor for fifteen minutes. So yay or something.

Anyway, the big music news of the week. Radiohead have chosen to truly stick it to the man by releasing their latest album on their official website for whatever amount people want to pay. This is going to be a real blow for the music industry, that flagging behemoth of corruption and exploitation which wants nothing more than money. They're doing it without a record label, throwing more salt into the deep gash they've struck; and best of all, if you do want a hard copy, you can plonk down £40 for more swag than £100 would get you if a label controlled it.

I personally think this is fantastic news. The major labels are a bunch of greedy fuckwits who care more about the carbon-copy rap/hip-hop/pop "artist" than anybody who gives a half damn about music for real. Even Roadrunner Records are guilty of this, giving a LOT more ad money to the bands who are popular with the kiddies. It's a much needed kick up the backside for an industry who are so attached to their old business model that they reject any and all attempts to change it. Dammit, music isn't meant to be an INDUSTRY like steel or computers. It's meant to be a creative endeavour, to be something that people do because they LOVE it and make money if they're GOOD. If you're setting out to be rich from making music, then you're doing it for the wrong reasons.

I shall make sure to get this album and spread the word as much as I can, to support REAL musicians everywhere and not the whims of the industry. Trent Reznor is also amiable in his support of music for music's sake; walking into an Australian HMV, he was shocked to discover how fucking expensive his new album was compared to everything else (which was also expensive). I've run into this problem too; as a self-confessed Opeth addict, I've made it my mission to own every single album. And I've been stopped in my tracks thanks to the local Music Zone shutting up shop. All that's left on the high street now is a HMV, which (you guessed it) overprices everything. I could buy two Opeth albums for twenty quid at Music Zone; now I have to spend almost twenty on ONE album, if I wanted it. The worst thing is that HMV only stock two of their albums - the very popular ones. Oh, and one of those is the MOST expensive one; a special edition with an added DVD, for almost £40. Wonderful.

If I wanted the CD, which I do, I'd need to pay over the web and have it delivered. And I don't like doing that. I grew quite fond of my trips out to town with my old CD Walkman, buying a new CD or two for (relatively) little money, and eagerly ripping off the fernickety wrapper before popping it in for some on-the-go genius. It's a shame that I won't be able to do that in the forseeable future.

In closing: Fuck You, HMV.


Sraen Out, with bitching new headphones.