I keep coming back to memory, haunted by pale shadows and the hard walls of consequences solidified… I am an acrobat, traipsing along the edges of the rooftops. I am boy Robin grown, Nightwing chasing shadows and walls do not hinder me. I was told once that’s what it is to be grown, to not let go because you can’t but to accept that which is under the hood. I wish I was the Joker
At times a reblog says it best. The following image is from one of my favorite web artists, Gavin Aung Than, known to most as Zen Pencils and it expresses an idea that doesn’t quite exist anymore – the simple satisfaction with life and what you’re doing. I saw this entry and I sent it to my mother, a little passive aggressive gesture after we’d had a spat a while back on ambition and leadership. I too want to make great art, appreciate the things around me and am not so concerned with climbing the corporate ladder. It’s not for me but there are enough people out there who it works for and that’s the point made in this comic; do what works for you. Gavin has some pretty poignant things to say too (here is the link) about the piece and what drove him to not only quote that particular line from Bill Watterson but what Calvin and Hobbes meant to him. Like him, I also found Calvin and Hobbes not only beautiful but also eye-opening.
[03:11:40] Nines: and here i am high
[03:11:56] Nines: again.
[03:12:05] Nines: i feel like writing a message
[03:12:16] Nines: one for the ages
[03:12:28] Nines: a tale lovers will tell
[03:12:37] Nines: one that moves
[03:12:47] Nines: not just my feet (why your feet, dancing?)
[03:13:01] Nines: nor just my heart but
[03:13:06] Nines: the story too (a tale that moves the story, as in the story feels? That in itself is one hell of a feat. Settle for that, telling a story that feels, for darn sakes, a sentient story.)
[03:13:16] Nines: wherever we may tell it
(images of something akin to this: He fell in love with a girl once, not so long ago. She was bright to his dullness, with a cute dimpled smile that stretched her face were he had his taciturn tight-lipped pressed grimace. She danced to life’s beat and he hobbled. She was all the things he was not. But despite all this there was love there; flourishing even as it fought the battles it didn’t know it fought. To each, the sun shone through the eyes of the other, each caress the gentle touch of the silver moon, each word as soothing as silk. Even when enveloped by each other’s darkness, they could see the light that kept the shadows at bay. But despite this, here he was sitting on a park bench holding a scarf, a letter stained with his tears and a fairy’s wand. Somewhere along the line as these things are wont to do something went wrong. It’s a sad tale perhaps, a tale of a bargain, a promise broken, a lost diadem that was never lost and a twice broken mirror. Mostly however, it is a story of fairies and pixies; a story of Puck, Tinkerbell, Tatiana and Oberon. A story of the Fae…)
[03:13:49] Nines: i forgot
[03:13:58] Nines: for a moment
[03:14:06] Nines: where i am
[03:14:16] Nines: but where most
[03:14:26] Nines: i should be (pray thee tell us where it is you must be)
[03:14:46] Nines: and this in the telling next morn,
[03:15:03] Nines: shall be much better than its foretelling
[03:15:31] Nines: because progression afore
[03:15:41] Nines: it, foretold it.
[03:16:11] Nines: ai, wena, zvandatatura pano, (I’ve never been one for languages but I guess it says- wow, this that i have said)
[03:16:37] Nines: panzira ino, ndataura chokwadi (on this path, i have spoken truth)
[03:16:46] Nines: kudhakwa hakuna kudai (being drunk isn’t even comparable)
[03:17:22] Nines: asi kunzwa nziyokubva vekudenga (but listening to the sound of angels)
[03:17:31] Nines: ndiko kuno (this is it)
[03:17:42] Nines: this is history
[03:18:07] Nines: in a sum
[03:18:28] Nines: merely of a fiction
[03:18:48] Nines: that tweedledee and tweedledum
[03:19:01] Nines: might even find elementary
[03:19:14] Nines: this is just my mind
[03:19:26] Nines: telling a story, not the one I set out but a story nonetheless
[03:19:35] Nines: a summary
[03:22:54] Nines: of all human art, there about or so. in a style and hopefully substance of what future english students might discuss on the merits of each line. and here is it, the kicker, what actually every writer has tried to convey – This is, today, in homer’s time, shakespeare’s time, fitzpatricks’s, poe’s, wordsworth’s, twain’s, yeezus and hova – it’s all bullshit. IT’S ALL BULLSHIT. IAB
(My good man, don’t worry about something that isn’t going to happen, no English major is going to study this even if its better than the weeks I agonised over Ulysses. Fair point though, it is all bullshit; Even more so when you look at all this in the plain light of day. Definitely more so then.)
[03:23:11] Nines: i am high (I think that’s rather clear old boy)
[04:08:05] OH MY GOD
hayibo, the things I almost said in an alternate future that isn’t this one about the things I almost said this would be a ridiculously long posting of absolutely nothing that matters (isn’t it already?), that lures you in a never series of near missed and mistakes unending and that near grasp that gives you a smidgen of hope. yeah that one, about the loop. yes, another posting of the loop. yes, this it. the loop, unending, cyclical. there goes it, hope, jumping around enticing begging for the chase. but i’m stuck in the beauty of the conception of the chase and this music in my ear, trance, flying, so beautiful this sound, sound, sou….S>S»>OO»»>U»>ND»>..DDDDDD…. climatic… explains the explosions. “Waiting for the Night” – Alone: Armin Van buuren.
Chindori – Baba Jukwa (Ah, a bit of Zimbabwe politics; must be that Facebook page that Zimbos follow that brought this on. You didn’t strike me as a chap who would be interested though. All that live in the moment stuff, or was it YOLO, you spout whenever anyone lends you an ear leads to that conclusion.)
It’s not as innocent as I chose to think… even in the jokes , jokes about cars and dying I forgot to pay attention of sinister implications…. Strangely in this moment I do… wow… Zim is a hard place to live.
(Clearly too hard a topic to discuss, a mood killer, so you change tack.)
Reprise (also an Armin Van Buuren track, but let me not get ahead of myself or you rather.)- how fitting for this moment-“Under pressure” by Queen pops into my head reliving high school, the dance, what if I’d asked Jo and if I hadn’t taking the girl I took.. The finality of reality. 4.23 am
Armin Van Buuren’s album “Intense”. has been playing on loop the whole time. 3 hrs. Tranced out and flied out. 3 hrs. These are chronicles.
There is light at the end of the tunnel. You keep saying it. Even if it’s another loop. You’ll get out one day. Ahh, another memory. I’ll transcribe the loop conversation one day. This will have to suffice in its stead. I keep recapping 1970-90 comics, rehashing, reintroducing. The loop of today being on History rather than the loop itself. A self-induced reflexive piece. A memory of the harshness of their work tempered by time. Humanity regresses more still. I must save it because, because I’m BATMANNN… Plus he embodied that age. Just saying. Noir cartoon for the win plus 90s Ztv and its backwardness. Enriching my childhood. The memories, the advent of teenage hood felt just like this. Trance being the natural rhythm of life. Glad we finally got to this stage. The answer to the question the mice had found. That is what the number meant. The number of beats in a trance song that lead to symphonic harmony. Teenage hood, coming to grips with the awkwardness of life. But that moment before it is this transic state. 4.36am
Side commentary. When sober. This here would make a solid one man play. 4:40 am
(Well old boy, you got your side commentary and frankly speaking ITS ALL BULLSHIT. I suggest expending your efforts elsewhere or changing tack. But yes, it would make an awesome play wouldn’t it, expanded of course. With me as the star of course, I come from noble blood you know, as a result I have a natural gravitas. I would have studied Drama after Eton but the old fox wouldn’t have any of it. Yes, the finality of reality.)
Armin Van Buuren still playing in the background.
life’s never-ending demands…… pushing….. tugging….. pulling… a contestation of wills, unending…. beating you down…. pressing…. the weight.. and in those moments we wither beaten down by the harshness of sun, hungry, thirsty but even after that.. the rains will come, new life, spring and we remember the hardship, the silence, the death or …..we are long dead, ground to dust, echoes of long forgotten memory.
hmm, a penchant for melodrama only gets you so far, far enough to recognise yourself as a fool , so far to laugh at oneself, and even in the face of this cheerless realisation there is no fool quite like the fool who knows he is a fool. maybe talent abides, somewhere…
there are many things I want to be if I could only ever get the nudge, the push. the will is there but there is no strength, no desperation, no fear. Desperation is what drives the chase, the desperate need to be heard, to feel, to leave a mark. Ambition is merely desperation in sheep’s clothing. what truly moves man is fear, and his response is not hope.. despair… courage; merely pale imitations of something greater, but desperation, for it makes even the weak titans.
and when he is born in the darkness, when sleep slows, brims underneath eyelids, before the embrace, here now flows ideas, concepts , truth. but is it really truth, truth that can be examined in the harshness of daylight? will I wish to hear it, to see it? will I see it for what it is? truth, only the ramblings of a sleepless man.
I am frozen. I am still. I am quiet.
I am dead. This is the end.
Left at Destiny’s crossroads,
through the door filled halls of the sandman Morpheus,
dust stained past the howling wind-swept plains Delirium driven.
Forlorn, wafting, sense deprived in packed halls
Despair in the face of unflinching and unyielding memory.
The futility of Desire,
satisfaction fleeting, higher peaks evermore.
Destruction reigns as all things must come to an end,
great and small alike to dust,
dust to dust ashes to ashes.
In the ashes a phoenix rises,
new beginnings even here at the end,
I am quietened, I recede into
the comfort of Death’s embrace.
Every once in a while a new trend in the world of publishing pops up and drives sales and conversations world wide. At times it doesn’t but remains, not forsaken, but rather embedded till it becomes part of surroundings whilst steadily weakening the foundation of the structures it finds itself built into. This is a list of sorts of those things that have popped in publishing and writing that not only piss me off but whose very existence and even worse, popularity, make me question the collective sense of humanity. I have lost faith in humanity’s ability to discern the difference between good fiction and garbage and the presence of good taste and just plain common sense. Admittedly it redeems itself but that’s another entry for another day. Below is a list of the filth that authors, publishing houses and the buying public have given to the greater world that they really shouldn’t have.
#8. Lets pretend feminism never happened and porn is the coolest thing now, as long as you’re reading it
You knew exactly what was I was talking about the moment you read that title – Fifty f@#king Shades of Grey. I’ve written on this (see here) so I wont go into it that much. But people, how has this book series broken so many records? Are you all that sexually deprived? Please answer me. The writing is clunky, the character development is non-existent, the characters are not relatable and the sex scenes are poor and if their being used as a guide then down right dangerous at times. Gosh this stuff was awful and it got progressively worse. I am actually being generous here. I judge strongly the customer who once walked into the bookstore I work at with a friend of hers and recommending it on the grounds that it saved her marriage. Newsflash lady, if it took Fifty Shades of Putrid to save your marriage then it was not worth saving.
#7 Animals, Zombies, Dead People, Demons and Angels are darn sexy!
I can never thank Stephanie Meyer and Twilight enough for making dead people, rotting corpses and animals infinitely shaggleable. Since I was a young pup I have always wanted a zombie lover or a vampire lover that would look at me with hunger in their eyes. I wanted our mating to be wild and animalistic. I always did have a love for fur. Move over Mills & Boon, we no longer need weak damsels always in enthral of a more powerful man to get the juices flowing. We now have rich 117 year old vampires to watch over us and save us from shirtless uncivilised werewolves. THANK YOU Stephanie Meyer. May God bless you and may you too find your Edward or Jacob – Team Whichever, and may yours yearnings for crazy monkey sex be satisfied. By either of them. Or maybe both. You’d like that.
#6 What’s the Point of a Pseudonym if You Tell Us Who You Are? And What’s With the Combined Authors Business
James Patterson has made a little cottage industry for himself of crime authors attached to his name which is now basically a brand. Can’t any of these authors just write their own work rather than tack onto Patterson? Besides, he gets the bulk of the money and takes all the credit. Does anybody know who Mike Ledwidge is? Nope, no one. He has written 5 books with Patterson. But nobody cares (it’s all junk anyway). And then there is the combined authors business, it is just irritating. Pittacus Lore and Lily Herne, just write your original names for christ sakes. And pseudonyms, what are they for if you tell us who you are?
#5 The same theme over and over again
Jodi Picoult and Nicholas Sparks haven’t written an original concept in like forever. Picoult is the queen of awkward social scenarios with the ever-present tag line ‘What would you do?’ on her covers. ‘If you son was guilty of murder and you knew, what would you do?’, ‘the world thinks your marriage is perfect. You know it’s a lie. What would you do?’, ‘You don’t believe in God but your daughter is talking to angels. What would you do?’, god, can you believe this drivel. And then there is Nicholas Spark and his romance-heartbreak material. I do have to give him credit for writing easily adaptable books. Almost every single one of his books has been made into a movie. He does get major kudos for giving us The Notebook. My point is, what ever happened to trying something new? Besides, Picoult has been on my blacklist ever since I cried in the movie adaptation of My Sister’s Keeper whilst I was on a date.
#4 Lets take a beloved series and write sequels that completely ruining the original work of the author
Someone please kill Brian Herbert. Please. The Dune universe can only take so much bastardization. Its one thing lovingly finishing or editing a series to give closure like Sanderson has done for Robert Jordan or Eion Colfer for Douglas Adams or Christopher Tolkien for his father and another to completely destroy the spirit and work of the original and leave lying a unrecognisable husk. Someone please kill Brian Herbert. Please.
#3 Forget the formula, it all about the template
This is very similar to number 5 but this isn’t about a them but rather the story. A while back Grisham decided he’d made enough decent books and he could be bothered to write stuff like that anymore. It was too tiring, it took too much time and it stopped him from going to the golf range as much as he wanted to. So he created a formula which made the whole process easier and quicker. It didn’t satisfy the critics and didn’t win prizes but it kept the fans and publishers happy. All was good with the world. Apparently not. Up stepped James Patterson and decided that too was too long a process. He went even further, he created a template and all you have to change is the names and location and there you go- ready-made books. No wonder book sales have nose-dived, there are only so many times you can read the same story. Unless of course it sexy vampires and zombies, then you can never have enough
#2 Screw You Robin Hobb, SCREW YOU!
I know it childish but I refuse to speak of you today. At length that is (that requires a separate post). Suffice to say, I loathe your work just as you loathe your characters. That can be the only explanation for the continuous rough-shod treatment of very protagonist you’ve ever had. It is one thing to have a distinct style and theme, another to attempt realism or grit and another altogether for what you do. I walk past your work in a shelf and I wish to burn it. I’m not one for censorship but you I would gleefully gag.
#1 A Song of Ice and Fire and George R. R Martin
I absolutely worship the ground that Neil Gaiman walks on but even I can’t forgive him for coming to the defence of George R.R Martin (see here). Apart from the fact the reasoning was faulty, there is an obligation to your fans Neil whether you like it or not, I fail to understand how he can come to the defence of such neglect? My first gripe is simple one but a big one- How does it take SIX years to write an opposing view-point? Considering that part of Dance with Dragon was already written at the publication of A Feast of Crows why did it take so long? Additionally, since both we set in the same time, except different geographical locations (South vs North) it is natural to assume that as he wrote one he knew what was happening with the other as they affected each other, the question stands- WHY SO LONG? Secondly, Martin can create a great world but can’t plot to save his life. Check out another of his work- Fevre Dream. Beautiful depiction, shoddy resolution. That probably explains why the long time between books but it also results in another irritating thing- the death of pretty much everyone to be replaced by another similar character who does to and then replaced by yet another similar character. That has been Martin’s answer to the concept of a coherent consistent plot throughout A Song of Ice and Fire. It’s because he doesn’t know what he is doing! Last but not least is his treatment of women. Martin must hate women. That can be the only conclusion from reading his works and just A Song of Ice and Fire. Yes he has ardent female fans and academics in support of his depiction (see here) but even that simple sugar-coating of the simple and glaring the treatment of women and young girls is just bad and often totally unnecessary (see critique here and here). Martin claims to be feminist at heart and some of his characters might seem to challenging notions of femininity but even they suffer greatly or reduced to sex objects or raped. Please really Doyle’s critique, she does the series women justice. My question here is; How do you like this drivel?
HBO owning the rights to this until publication of the final book is the best thing to happen to it. You wont have to wait for 6 years between books and if Martin croaks and pulls a Jordan then HBO will hire someone able to finish it properly much like Sanderson did and not what Brain Herbert did (See #4 above).
As a side note
I’m sure you’re surprised I didn’t add movie or Tv adaptations of popular works but there is a reason for this. First, adaptations are actually good because they make people read the original work even if they do take liberties but crucially and ultimately people become familiar with the source work. Secondly, they might actually make George R R Martin write faster for A Season of Fire and Ice or better yet since HBO now own the rights, have somebody else finish of the series and finally give it a coherent plot and direction.
I dropped the hand that had been reaching for the door, turned and looked him in the eye “This isn’t my choice. I just simply have to do it.”
“You always have a choice”
“Only if I have the power”
“Then go get it”
I snickered. “Karl, to do that I’d have to buy the city. I don’t have that kind of green”
“Use the slums, they’re cheap and often free. They are hungry”
Now I openly laughed. “Old friend, there is no such thing as a free meal. Besides, I have no wish to be a messiah, pretend or otherwise”
“Because they have to be led. I trust myself more than some hack who had the muscle and the chops to claw himself to the top.”
“They don’t need to be led Nines. It’s about time we took what was ours.”
I turned to leave, “You’re on your own on that. Somebody always has to lead.” And with that i walked out. I knew what Karl felt about such things. If I stayed any longer he’d trap me in a never-ending round about discussion I had little interest in. I had no doubt he believed Continue reading