It's all over bar the blogging...

Well after an absence of, er, nearly two months, I am finally back online aproper, but this will also be my last blog on this site. I have sold my soul to Bebo (I think I'm over-using that phrase now, but it seems so apt) and so all future blogging shall occur there @ seraphism.bebo.com.
All good things must sell out and go somewhere else I guess...

I'll never hear the end of it.

Se you there then...

More Tales of, well... Everything! (Warning! May include Bees.)

Apologies in advance, Dear Reader, for the unbearable silence I am sure you have been experiencing from what has, sadly, been my forced absence from this blog. If you have been keeping up to date with my situation you will know that I was finishing Uni and moving flat. The present participles there used (that yould be the -ing endings) must now become past participles (-ed) to say they have (and here I misquote an old BBC schools programme) Happened.
Yes, very silly use of the english language aside, I am now officially a Graduate of the University of Aberdeen, complete with a degree certificate to prove it. You may now call me Seraph BSc. Equally as exciting, the move has been completed and I now share a nice flate, comp-elte with whtie walls, laminate flooring and not quite enougyh storage space with the Green One, the Other One having moved on to his year's volunteering at a Scripture Union (A christian organisation) conference centre-type place. IT feels like now is the tinme to use sound effects like 'Oooh' and 'Aaah', but there's also a fair amount of 'Eeep' and even 'Eeeeyaaaaagh!' as I now find myself in the position of seeking Full Time employment and, frankly, not doing a very good job of it. I am existing at the moment on my Part Time wage plus vast quanities of overtime and money given to me by my parents, who also offered substantial amounts of support during the move as they were up in Aberdeen at that time for the graduation ceremony (Pictures may be forthcoming).
I should also be writing, but with the demise of my laptop and the lack of acess to it's hard-drive's contents that's also looking a bit hard. Not being able to RP as we don't have an internet connection yet (the reason for my long blogging absence) combined with much watching offilms and the X-files as well as reading Jeff Vandermeer's excellent Shriek: An Afterword, has left me with a desperate need to write or tell a story, but without any actual story to tell. It's quite frustrating.
Eruntane has left for France, where she will be part of a gospel choir for two weeks. The Doctor has returned to her native Northern Ireland, before helping her family emmigrate to Canada and the Heckler is, like the Green One and I, left behind like a ghost in the muggy heat of the Granite City. It's a very strange situation.
We are planning to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest tonight, however. I have already seen it, having gone with Eruntane on Thursday evening as she had to begin her travels the next day.
I've heard various things sdaid about this film so far, but here's my point of view.
It's not as good as the first, but it still has some fantastic moments and the characters become a lot more interesting as the story progresses. Bill Nighy's Davy Jones is fanatstic and and scary witch woman is also very well characterised and performed. Jack Sparrow is, of course, the same character we all know and love, and although soem re-used jokes fall a bit flat towards the beg9inning of the film and some alter scenes just seem silly, much of the comedy, especially that centred on Jack, still remains. They scene shifts p[erhaps a few too many times, the story sort of meanders between it all, but, in fairness, the adventure is still a good one and even the first film was a little messy in its structure. It didn't stop it from being fantastic and Dead Man's chest, whilst not reaching such lofty heights, is still a fun film to see. The promise of the third film is greater however, and, if they can solve the problems of this film before it's release, it could well be a finish to remember.
I'm going to shut up now, but not before I give you the promised Bees [wasn't it more of a warning? -Pedantic Ed.]. HAving come into Uni to use these PCs and write this account, I found myself sumamrily unable to proceed as my computer account had been closed, but, having spent a full £1.20 in bus fares to get here I decided to visit the nearby park and enjoy the sights of the river Don, using up filmin my disposable camera as I did so. At one point, whilst trying to line up a shot of the river dissapearing into a beautiful bit of woodland I stepped down onto a wooden jetty of sorts, assumedly for kayaking and resumed taking aim for the piocture. Still unsatisfied I eximned a lower portion of the jetty and was consdiering descending onto it when I saw a bess fly up to me. I froze and then I realised it wasn't alone and that, from beneath the jetty, many more bees were issuing forth. I swore. I ran. End of story.
See you next time, folks.

Erattatatat

Firstly, just to ammend yesterday's rant, I will get used to this haircut, and it isn't anywhere near as bad as it looked during that first moment of facial pallor when it was all too tidy and blow-dried, but I reserve the right to moan about it for a few days more.

Secondly, the parental units arrived today and the first small truckload of materials have made their way to the new flat. Okay, carload... but they were all DVDs, CDs and Games, which I thought was quite a feat. Tomorrow everything else must go, but not in a horrible SALE type way which might imply I was getting rid of them...

I watched the end of the X-Files season 4 last night and immediately had to watch the start of season 5. Gethsemane is a crueler than cruel episode, second, perhaps, only to Farscape's Bad Timing. I would never have slept if I hadn't at least gained partial closure from Redux I, and as it was I still struggled.

I wish I could write such cruelty. To have my readers hanging on tenter(sp?) hooks, waiting for the next installment. Time will tell I guess.

Oh and I wrote an entire post of the surprinslgy long running Background Chain Fiction, Kyuuketsu to Kessen (Bloodsuckers and Bloody Battles - about vampires, demons and clan wars in a fantasy version of Feudal Japan: Sengoku) using the syllable structure of a traditional japanese Renku (5, 7, 5, 7, 7). I'm not really sure it worked and there was no good reason for it. Also it was the hardest post of my life. Still it's something to blog about, right?

Bad hair life.

I suggested that I might talk about my hair-related issues today. Well lucky you, I feel like unloading said issues upon this very (virtual) page. Let's start with some background.
My hair, as you can see in the (now out of date) photo above, is brown and very, very thick. It started off blonde and curly, but by the time I was about eight it had gone pretty dark and most of the curliness had left it years before even then. Even from a young age I recall hating my hair. I hated a hell of alot of other things about myself then, I'll admit, but the hair issue remains still, so I guess it must be pretty rooted (no pun intended). But why did I hate my hair?

Because it never looked right. Because mum liked to make it look worse (but isn't that the job of all mothers?). Because it liked to form annoying little tufts. Because everyone else thought it was wonderful (providing they were female and over 30). Because haircuts took so long. Because thinning can really really hurt. Because it caused me all manner of grief throughout secondary school where it was often the subject of ridicule. Because, sometimes, just sometimes, it looks great and it always gets messed up or loses something by the time it's on public display. Because how good it looks affects how good I think I look generally and it looking bad makes me feel awful and ugly.

Psychiatrists make of that what you will (just don't tell me your conclusions).
So this haircut on monday...

I've been dreading getting my haircut for a while now. I've kinda been growing it on and off sicne I started University, since I think I have one of those faces that is better viewed within a frame, if you'll indulge the rather conceited sounding analogy. Everytime I go home my parents and my brother ridicule it or command me to get it cut again. Last time I got away without doing so, but then ahd to shorten it a bit for work (a small disaster in and of itself). Then up to monday it had grown to it's longest yet and apart from being a bit too thick and scruffy, I really liked it. I knew that I needed it cut for my Graduation, at least so that it could be neat, but I hadn't yet found a barbers/hairdressers that I could actually trust with my long hair. I was terrified I'd find the wrong one. And guess what?

Sitting there, on the chair watching my hair get snipped away, I was worried. Then I saw myself and it looked okay and I was like, "Tidy that up a bit and it'll be fine"... If only I'd actually said that. I look at myself a while later and think, "Oh God! I look like one of the beatles!" But I reassured myself that this is only an intermediate phase and all will turn out okay. Then the guy took out the mirror and asked me if thit was alright and my face just paled. Eventually I told him that it was indeed fine (because I'm too polite and because there wasn't really anything he could do to save it) and I fumbled for the money in my wallet, handing it over with a shake and leaving the store as quickly as possible. Then I walked home at that speed one is only capable of doing when you feel the full force of angry embarrassment (something I had also experienced a few days prior to this after beign hit by an egg thrown from a student flat as I walked home from Eruntane's) and retreated into the bathroom before applying vast quanities of Brylcream wax to disguise the horror I had been given.

What makes it so much worse is that people keep complimenting it... It worries me that people think I can look good with, that I can suit, a haircut I so despise. It's like the feeling of horror I get hearing my voice on recording after not hearing it for a while and thinking "Everything anybody ever said about me is justified by that voice. If only they could all hear the voice I hear and see the me I see."

Of course if everyone did then I'd probably lose as many admirers as I'd gain. I have to be thankful that people do see me differently from me, because I'd never love myself the way other people can. And missing out on that would be terrible. Plus many of things I probably thinka re "great" about me are possibly lies anyway. We never really see our true selves, even fi we think we are the sole keepers of such a conception. No one see's all of a person, except (if you believe in such a thing, I do) God. If He manages to love you after seeing the spiritual equivalent of the Full Monty, then He must be pretty cool, right?

And whoah, how did a talk about hair get so deep? Time to call it a night I think...

If I said I was busy, would you believe me?

Most humble apologies for the extended absence from blogging but:

-I've been working alot recently.
-I've had very little of interst to say.
-I've been feeling very lazy (as usual).
-I've been trying to catch up on my X-files watching.

And so on...

Yeah so it's one week and one day after my last post. Sheesh, doesn't time fly when your busy trying to survive a SALE at work? It doesn't? kuso...

Ok, so what's news worthy this week?

We had a flat warming party tonight, even thjough we aren't compeltely moved in to the new place yet. There was much sushi and cheesecake and I felt satisfied that it went pretty well.

I've been asked to be the Best Man at the distant wedding of the Other One and the Doctor, which is exceedingly exciting and honouring news, whikst also being darn terrifying... Me+Responsibility+Public Speaking=Mental Breakdown.

I've come up with an idea for a breif narrative poem inspired by baby bunny rabits (or baani-chan as we like to call them). Funnily enough for me, it's going to be dark and little scary and plenty with the weird. But it will have a kawaii baani-chan in it, so everyone's a winner.

No luck so far on the job-hunting front.

I got my hair cut and whilst Eruntane reassures me that it isn't, I still believe it to be the worst hair cut in the world, ever, barring none! It's just in time for my Graduation next Tuesday, hurrah! I may elaborate on it tomorrow if i have less tot ype about and more inclination. Night!

...and...

A new stereo;
New beeding;
New storage, and, finall;
New inspiration!!!

Double ugh.

The List of *NEW*

Very soon I need to acquire:

A new mobile phone;
A new laptop;
A new Nintendo DS or PSP;
A new pair of glasses;
A new haircut and;
A new job.

Ugh.

A Fate Worse Than Anglicanism....

Random title... It comes from a conversation I had with Eruntane last night about how I would make a terrible Vicar, a point we both agreed whole heartedly on. Still I'm amused to imagine what my Parish would be like (Mental Note, remember these imaginings for when you finally get around to writing CONFESSION).

In other news, the Green One and I appear to have actually got ourselves a flat for the next year. All I need now is a job to pay for the rent.

In other, other news, my CDs arrived this morning: Hurrah! I have ULTRA BLUEd and now I shall Dragon Quest VIII.

I bid you adieu!

A Handful of Darkness...

Wow, two posts in one day. Can you tell I'm feeling guilty and irresponsible?
Anyway this evening was worthy of blogdom as Eruntane, the Green One and I went to see Dylan Moran perform his stand-up stylings at the Aberdeen Music Hall. It was most amusing, with some chocie descriptions I mostly can't remember :( due to being rather tired throughout (for no apparent reason, hmm - paranoia of weeks gone by is kicking in again, entirely unjustly, stupid paranoia) but I do remember his comments on Aberdonian winter:

"You can open up the Hotel window, stick your hand out and grab and handful of darkness."

I like the way this man thinks.

In other news, my little foray of this morning (now proof-read and corrected at the request of Eruntane) has lead me to think that, while my laptop is dead (oh yeah, that happened) and Darksyde is therefore beyond my reach, I could focus my writing energies on the fictional city of Cadreden. Cadreden would be everything I've ever imagined Aberdeen might be; dark, creepy, full of secrets and plots and strange locations that hold more meaning than they might first seem. Cadreden would at the same time be everything Aberdeen currently is; thriving, beautiful, cold and grey.
For those interested in the origins of the city name, Cadreden is how Aberdeen first appeared in the predictive text of my old Nokia. I always figured it should be the name of a fantasy city (and indeed in the idea for my other "on hold" novel, The Dream, there was a city called Cadredin - the I being required to make it fit a language pattern).
Now all I need do is sit down and right soemthing. A hard thing to convince myself to do on someone else's laptop.

A Short Story Around Every Corner...

Apologies (again) for my not blogging last night, but it seems I just can't find anything interesting to say about anything at the moment. Having said that, there was a minor event this morning I felt worthy of relating to you, so I shall:

After the Green One and I had perused through the corridors and rooms of another set of flats (makes them sound like mansions doesn't it?) I had to take a different route home via our nearest ASDA supermarket. This meant travelling along Union Street, Aberdeen's central shopping district, and then down past Castlegate, the old central square of the city, and onto Beach Boulevard, which surprisingly enough, heads towards the beach. This lead to some random explorations in both the physical and mental planes of existence and the inspiration for various possible writings.

Firstly, at Castlegate, I was admiring the Mercat Cross, a monument made up of a circle of arches carved into what might be sandstone but which is now a dark black. It's quite a striking piece and it dates back to the City's earliest origins, marking some agreement or other nearly a millenium ago. Anyway as I walked past it I started imagining the arches as gateways to some other place and what if that really were the case, that some work of arcane magick (the k is neccesary, honest) could be situated at the end of a prime piece of high street shopping.
I thought about this as I wandered on down past the Salvation Army Citadel (an oddly turreted building that always makes me think of fantasy more than reality) and onto Beach Boulevard.
I have walked this way to ASDA at least once before and I was always intrigued by the little streets that head off from it (towards the harbour) which I had never explored and had trouble imagining what their contents might be. On a whim I picked one of these streets (Hannover Street I believe) and followed it down towards it's conclusion. This turned out to be the bottom of a road I had only just left, but beside it was another road which lead vaguely beachwards so I followed it and, rather than taking the street I had originally intended to bring me out beside ASDA, I found myself lured away by the sight of a church tower. Following these industrial backstreets, lined with various builder's merchants and harbour support services I found myself wandering into an Aberdeen I knew logically must exist (its harbour has been its central soul since it was first founded and is obviously crucial to the modern North Sea oil industry), but which I had barely experienced. Looking over my shoudler I could see the Citadel and the clock tower of the Sheriff's Court (also very turretous and fantastic), reassuring me that I was still in the same city, but all around me there were warehouses and signs of a culture compeltely alien to me, built on services and supplies I had nothing to do with. I felt like an intruder.
Still the Church Tower lured me on. It had a fine detailing at the top and a shroud of trees which made it seem very incongruous amidst all the angled, corrugated-iron rooftops.
Then I rounded a corner and there it was, St. Clement's churchyard. It was filled with well-kept graves and a sign told me that it was open for visitors, so I stepped in through the cast-iron gate and felt its silence englulf me.
As I approached the church building itself I realised something was amiss. It appeared boarded-up and the stained glass windows were hidden behind mesh coverings. A sign in fluroescent yellow on the board door informed me that CCTV camera's were in operation. I casually circled the building, staring at all the unfamiliar signs of its abandonment and saw parts of it covered in grafitti as well as further warnings that CCTV cameras would be watching me.
Ideas began to form in my mind. A Church, hidden away in a district that had no need for such an anachronism, for surely this church had once been for sailors and their families, but now it was lost amidst warehouses and chemical facilities. Something was going on there, something that meant people made sure it looked clean and tidy, well-kept, with neatly cut grass, but were concerned that no one should enter.
Expect a story about it soon :P

Ass(or/aul)ted Toys.

I played with toys in work today and whistfully dreamt of buying some (I'd left my wallet at home).

Otherwise it was a pretty straight-forward day. There was watching of X-Files (poor cigarette smoking man) and Aliens bonus features (Brits + early James Cameron = good film + bad relationships). There was also posting, involving my favourite pastime, worldcrafting. I had a bit of fun with this one, although the images I wanted to use had been in my head for the past two weeks and so, to some extent, it was just about putting them in in the right order with the right words. I think I was reasonably succesful.

My CDs have been posted! Wooh!

By Hook Or By...

Well as I mentioned in my last update, I was going to go out dressed as Captain Hook. It happened. There's photographic evidence and everything. I had a silly costume on and my hair and beard all waxed up (still trying to wash it out). Still the most amusing part of the evening (costume wise) was walking back to Eruntane's flat in itm getting assaulted by a drunken footbal fan, sung at (Don't You Ever - Adam and the Ants) by some other drunken gentlemen and being chatted up by a man dressed in fairy wings and face paints...
Other news of worth that night (indeed very exciting news) was that after a day of hillwalking The Doctor and The Other One returned somewhat engaged. Not sure how that happened, but the ring was very pretty and the Doctor was grinning inanely for some time afterwards.

Yesterday I was invited around to have a dinner at the home of one of the members of Eruntane's church. The food was fantastic and the weather was good. The conversation was also intersting, awkward though it was at times and chaired by the intimidating "Scary Professor" who I found immensely likable, in spite of the fear factor.

I'm verging on laconic at the moment aren't I?

Ich Trinke Champers mit Laschfisch (Thanks Franz ferdinand)

I've been getting awfully lazy with these blog updates haven't I? Bad Seraph, Bad, Bad Seraph!
Anyway, it's mainly because I keep getting lost in various events occuring elswhere online, like message boards and MSN messenger conversations and by the time I have concluded the best part of those I'm too tired to care about what happened to me. Knowing that hardly anyone is reading this isn't a great incentive either, but hey, I promised more details about Thursday, so here they are:

Thursday was, as has perhaps already been said, an odd day. I went in to Uni first to take part in a class photo (something I wasn't all that sure I really wanted to be part of), but for some reason was running a hour ahead of schedule so found myself reading message boards and chatting on MSN (as usual) whilst various members of my 'class' drifted in to the computer room to join me. We chatted, then we went to get our picture taken and waited about half an hour standing around like moron whilst the external examiners (who for some reason were to be part of the picture as well - ???) finished their lunch. We of course had had no such luxuries and were desperate to allieviate our hunger. Fortunately by about half 2 (the photo was supposed to be over by 2 at the latest) we were free to do just that, so we bought ourselves some slightly overpriced Ginster's sandwiches and wraps and sat in the Cruickshank botanic gardens enjoying the weather, the banter and fearing our soon-to-be-determined fates.
This too was (bien sur) delayed by the external examiner's luncheon, but by twenty to five we were being called into the Zoology Building's crowded foyer to be handed an ominous looking envelope.
I received mine after a friend who had wanted to get into Vetinary College but was pretty certain she wouldn't get the required 2-1. As I took my envelope I saw her crying into her boyfriend's shoulder. I was distraught. Could it really be that bad? I clutched my envelope in concern. Then I saw her jump up and down, still crying hysterically and I began to get confused. Was this good? Bad? Buh?
Fearing the consequences of speaking to her just yet I took myself aside and opened my envelope, pulling out the first piece of paper within.

"Cheese and Wine!?"

Aha, wrong piece of paper. instead of the one telling me how I would fare in the world of graduates, this was one saying that we were all invited to enjoy the above perishables in the cruickshank gardens before our graduation with the usual parental units. I put it back in the envelope and took out the next sheet. This one was made of better paper and looked both reassuringly and ominously official.

Degree Classification: Lower 2nd Class

After a few seconds of translating this into soemthing I could actually udnerstand I nodded, accepted my fate and wandered aimlessly towards people I knew. In truth I was a little bewildered. A 2-2 was the very best I had been expecting, but I couldn't really say I had been hoping for it. I had trained myself in apathy so well that when I finally received the result, I just didn't care, but everyone around me was exploding with emotion and here I was, a little island of confusion and silence.
I met up with another classmate who informed me that he too had recieved a 2-2, so I was somewhat relieved that I wasn't alone in this category, and then I went over to the Vetinary wannabe and discovered that she had managed a 2-1 after all and my confusion became further complicated by the immense feelings of pride and joy for her, contrasting bizarrely with my internal mutedness.
Eventually we went back out to the gardens and I rang my mother. A Transcript of the covnersation would appear thusly:

ME: I GOT A 2-2.
MOTHER: Huh?
ME: IT MEANS I PASSED, IT'S GOOD!
MOTHER: OH? SO HAVE YOU FOUND A FLAT YET?

You've gotta love the down-to-earth pragmatism of a parent, right?

Next there was chapagne. Generally I don't drink. I don't really like alcohol and I don't want to get drunk, but I like champagne and I don't begrudge a little celebration, so champagne there was and I drank it. 2 glasses to be precise. Which is alot for me, although not alot in the sense that it was intoxicating, especially since the stuff we were drinking was so cheap as to possibly not have any real alcohol in it, still...
Afterwards we went to someone's house for pizza, snacks and more champagne (just one more glass, and about 3 hours after the first two, so again no danger of drunkenness for me - less could be said for some of the others) and I came to realise that my one regret for my four years at uni is not, as I thought it might be, not working hard enough to achieve the 1st I possibly could have achieved, but is in fact not getting to know my classmates as well as they deserved. My usual outsider attitude has done them a disservice. Still, there's a while before graduation and we plan to do a few other things by then, so that'll be fun.
Now for today: I have work, then I have to dress up as Captain Hook. I live a very odd definition of life, don't I?

On Earning a Tutu/Gravegull

I got my results today. I got a 2-2. It's not a fantastic result, but it's still quite good and is more than i deserve. Many of my friends got 2-1's but I'm nto jealous. they really worked for theirs and earned it. I am justly proud of them and pleasantly surprisded formsylf as well as comfortable that the universe hasn't given me too much more than I deserve. I don't feel guilty.
It's been an odd day, worth blogging about, but I;m shattered now, so here's the bare bones of a poem I was inspired to write today:

Gravegull

He dances
Like a clown,
Marching
Back and forth,

King and beggar,
Pacing his,
Court, his
Net, his
Patch. His

White, ghost
White feathers

Like blossoms,
Like prayers,
Like tears, as

They fall,
Past the names,

And land
In a heap,
In a wreath.

Listing Again

Apologies for delays in blogging, but since my little song, below, I just haven't found anything worthy of blogging happening in my life. To summarise the last few days:

I have watched the end of Last Exile (it was quite good)
I have read lots of Lucifer (it's brilliant)
I have played a reasonable amount of Dragon Quest (it is, as always, fantastic)
I have bought DVDs (oops)
I have read some stuff by Poe (it's all a bit bizarre)
I have eaten copious amounts of toast with chocolate and hazelnut spread (mmmn)
I have thought about writing (current short story idea involves vampires in Prohibition Era Chicago)
I have watched LOST (wow)
I have watched ALIEN (also wow)
I have watched half of Immortal Ad Vitam (Huh?)
I have viewed a flat (it's number 19)
I have recorded various songs (lalalala)
I have joined a Silent Hill forum (creepy)
I have had lunch on campus (sunny)
I have received my tickets for the graduation ball (ticketish)
I have had weirdly cool dream (inspiring the previous short story idea and, well, weirdly cool)

That's about it really. Tomorrow I get my exam results. Eep.
Added a new link to a friend's blog, Askelsyand this time dedicated to her brilliant artwork and her future plans for a graphic novel. Woohoo!

Fall.

Today was a nice relaxing day, but really not blog worthy, so here's a poem/song thing possibly inspired by Last Exile:

Fall.

Falling
In a sea of clouds,
I dream
And I'm not waking up.

Drifting
In these skies of blue,
I cry;
Am I filling the cup?

Aching
As the winds pass me by,
I scream;
It's breaking apart.

Melting
In the gaze of the sun,
I try
Not to smother my heart.

But the winds keep on changing
And the clouds dissapear,
There's nothing that's holding,
Nothing keeping me here
So I fall...

Aiming
For the glittering sea,
I wait
For the pain of impact.

Daring
Those white, wheeling gulls,
I shout,
And they're screaming right back.

And the ocean's expanding
As the cloud's dissapear,
And in dreams of safe landings
Are those waves that I hear?
Let me fall...

No boundary
And no limit
No horizon
To keep straight
No runway
And no guide-lights
No flight plan
And no wait
No cushion
And no safety
No glider
And no blades
But I know I'm gonna make it
I'll be riding on the waves...

And the winds are dying down
As the clouds dissapear
I know the sky is ending now
The final seconds near
As I fall...
Only fall...
Let me fall...

The smell of smoke in my hair...

Sorry for not updating last night (or the night before) but at least in the case of last night I was too tired to do so having just come back from a long walk and a barbeque at the beach!! It was wonderful:

Sunset and burnt food
Ripples in the river flow
As the swans pass by.

Yes the bit of beach we had chosen was right at the mouth of the river Don and a flotilla of swans (8 of them, but one seemed to be a bit reclusive) drifted near us by a sand bank, just before the waves of the north sea broke the stillness of the water.
Further out a large tanker remained anchored opposite the harbour. When the sun set and the night got colder it was lit up like a little island and was yet another pleasant sight to view from our little campfire, which we kept going until after 11. There were burgers, sausages, posh crisps, roasted marshmallows, melted tea-cakes (as an experimental marshmallow subsitute) and the all pervading smell of smoke. It was great.

The river by the bridge
The smell of smoke in my hair
Distant city lights.

The prescient's can't predict a no-day, but I can...

In the style of Fank Herbert, this was very much a no-day (much like my non-days of a month or so ago). Not that it was a bad day, per se, just that it really doesn't feel worth blogging about. I watched an ep of the X-Files, three eps of Last Exile and played some Dragon Quest. Apart from work and an evening of Ligretto, mints and Noir, that was it. Sorry folks, the dullness is spreading.

Scenes from Seraphim.

Reading is fun. Playing games is fun. Cleaning the terribly over-cooked-on surface of the hob is less so. My hands spent much of the day being wrinkly and sore. Bah! Still there was the reading, which resulted in finishing Heretics of Dune (definitely the best Dune book since Dune so far) and reading fragments of a play (Scenes from Politian) by Edgar Allen poe (which was a little surreal) and there was a tiny smidgeon of games playing which resulted in me getting absolutely no further in ICO.
I also got given a new song challenge and, consequntly, a new song I ahd never heard before by Shiina Ringo. Always a good thing.
Oh and I've been listening to the 45 second track samples from Utada Hikaru's upcoming album a little obsessively. It's going to be the best album ever... possibly.
Wow, I made a reasonably enjoyable and productive day sound really dull didn't I?

(-_- )(_ _ )(-_-)(_ _ )

Oh well.

The Quotable Seraph.

"And the wind rushed through the silver-grey city and in my soul I heart the roaring chime of each glittering micah super nova as the sun burned overhead." - Seraph, Some Random Nonsense He Cooked Up.

It seemed an awfully appropriate quote, (I wonder why?) since I spent this afternoon being blown through the streets of Aberdeen by the wind, searching for jobs and finding none, searching for fruit and salad to appease Eruntane and the Doctor and finding... er... loads.

"Never again shall the digestive systems of the common man be denied the vitamins of Heaven." - Seraph, Further Nonsense.

How low can you go? Oh, wrong Limbo...

I haven't really been keeping up to date with this have I? I've been in a kind of exam limbo and i figured I'd just spend this weekend flaking, although actually I've felt like I still had alot to do. On friday night there was a ceilidh to raise money for the Other One's year volunteering at an S.U. centre, and although I was too much in that aformentioned limbo (not to mention shattered in the tired sense) to really do much dancing it was still funa dn did eventually wake me up a little.
Then yesterday I had the usual evening shift at work and spent the time before that watching Last Exile and playing Shadow of the Colossus. Afterwards there was snackage, flaking and the watching of the first part of a mini-series called The Triangle, "starring" Sam Neil and created by the guy behind Farscape.
Today consisted of finally going to church again (after an absence of about three weeks) and then enjoying the afternoon finishing Shadow... and reading. I fell asleep after reading a few chapters and didn't wake up til the Other One informed me it was time for part two of The Triangle and I discovered that Eruntane had been around for the best part of an hour. Combined with my tiredness on Friday night and something the Doctor (you may rememeber that she's the Other One's girlfriend) said about me possibly being anaemic, Eruntane is now rather concerned about me, but I feel fine, there's nothing wrong with an evening nap other than that it deomonstrates my lack of sense and willpower and the Doctor just enjoys supposing about these things since it is her future career. Still they've got me paranoid now... (~_~)
Anyway, The Triangle whilst not being a work of fantastic direction or cinematography, is proving to be an interesting story with reasonably satisfying twists and turns and, if nothing else, is a welcome relief from most of the other tat on T.V. Still its conspiracy theorising at the moment is not a patch on the X-Files and its weirdness is put to shame by the ever-brilliant LOST.
Shadow... proved to ahve a very cool ending. The suspsicions of Eruntane, the Green One and I proved to be both corrrect and not so, with some itneresting and unepxpected drama rounding off a story that had taken palce mostly without scripting and thus mostly through our emotional attachment to the environment, collossi and characters (the hero and the horse). I guess now I need to complete ICO, the first game made by these people with a similar kind of "storytelling".

Aozora no shita!

Ok, so th skies are actually very very grey, but who cares. I had my last exam today (barring possible re-sits or teacher training courses...) and I feel freakilly free right now. I stepped out of the exam hall (actually involved descending an old tower), popped some ehadphones into my ear and then walked out of campus through the pouring rain listening to Passion by Utada Hikaru and feeling wonderful.

I was actually sad for the first few notes of the song, partly because theya re ratehr melancholy, but mainly because I was walking through King's College, the oldest part of the campus, which I had been thinking about before I went into the exam and how proud I was of this University, and as I left it I realised in a way, it's no longer my university. But then, as Eruntane rightly points out, it always will be.

So yeah, walking through the rain, mouthing the words and feeling the euphoria rise. It's great. I'm free of education! Now I just have to find a new kind of slavery to replace it, lol.

Inspiration is...

Procrastination, escape
From mind numbing thoughts.

Looming Shadows.

This is a little late, I notice, but I was rather tired last night and spent the time I could have set aside for blogging, chatting with a friend. I also couldn't think of anything blog-worthy to say, but now that I am sitting in university feeling rather miserable as I attempt to take in a little more information for tomorrow exam (number 2 of 3), I suddenly feel inclined to update. I wonder why?
So, yesterday...
Well as my random japanese update said (sorry about that those of you it left compeltely confused) I had my first final exam and it's fair to say that, with my knowledge of my final three courses being somewhat minimal, I was not looking forward to it.
However, when the time came I managed to answer the three questiosn required of me and put in every single bit of infor that I could. I don't think it was enough, but I'm glad that I was at least able to amke use of the time I had spent reading up the last few days and that I definitely did the best I could under the circumstances.
Unsurprisingly the afternoon beyond that was spent flaking. I compelted 24 - The Game - on monday (and forgot to mention that I did so thanks to the japanese weirdness), so i ahve now moved onto an attempt at completing Shadow of the Collossus. This game is pretty unique. Basically your character must slay 16 gigantic monsters to bring a woman (friend, sister, lover?) back to life. A simple, seemingly plot-free premise that is hardly enticing to most people, but the world you have to explore to find theser beasts is massive and beautiful. Each journey, setting out from the temple where the woman lies unbreathing is an epic, heading out across plains and canyons, riding on a beautiful black stallion. Then there is the creatures themselves; massive, graceful or clumsy, celever or dull, they each seem to have a character of their owna nd you can't hel;p but think of most of them as marvellous creatures. The msuic for each abttle is suitably dramatic, making you feel like you are taking part in some classical epic, or the high point of a modern fantasy movie. Each collossus is a differnt challengem, arguably a level in themselves as you ahev to clamber up their flanks or along their backs, trying to find the weak spots and avoiding being shaken off, fired at, electrocuted or worse in the process.
Then the moment comes when the ebast fianlly falls. Sombre music kicks in as the camera pans out to reveal each beast's fianl monets, tumbling to the groudn in a sad dispaly of lifelessness. Do you feel proud of your accomplishment? No sirree you don't. Something sinister is going on behind this game's simple facade. Cue black tentacles that swallow you up and transport you back top the temple, ready for your next challenge.
You see this is where the game's true genius is found. it manages to telkl a story through the music, the action adn the environment and ahrdly ever resorts of custcenes or exposition. The plot is, to a certain extent, interpreted by the gamer, you make of it what you want, but the designers have left a tantalising collection of cues to bring emotion and involvement into this simplest of premises. As I said the music is epic, then haunting, the landscape is vast, majestic, but also deserted and covered in ruins of lost cities. our hero ahs come from very far away, with his horse and that dead woman and so we know there must be more to his character than jsut a monster slayer.
Such implicit storytelling is unique and, although I doubt it'll catch on in many other agmes, is truly a work of art. I can't wait to see where it leads now I have only the last few collosi left to kill.
Anyway, more later.

Shiken to tenken.

Ashita wa boku no saisho no shiken ga arimasu.

Boku no saisho no saigo no shiken n'da!

Ashita!

Tenken no you ni. Shiken wa.

Kowai desu.

"(~_~)"

Ano...

Nihongo de hanashimasu.

Doushite?

Sonna kowai desu ka?

"(;_;)"

An Artistic Consideration.

Experimentation with form.

It can lead to great new dicoveries.

You never know how the way you present something

Will

affect

the

way

that

people

perceive

it.

Form can open perception,

Narrow it

Down

To a

Pin

Po

i

n

t

,

Or sENd [OUR] MiNDs R! e! E! l! I! n! G!

As you might have guessed, I love playing with form, although I probably do it less than I would like and less imaginatively than I could, and would choose to if more thought went into it than currently.

Not just form, but also medium. I am only really capable of playing with the written forms, prose and poetry. I suck at drawing and other visual arts because, although I know what i like visually, I am often incapable of creating it.

My imagiantion is often more powerful than my ability to express it, which, as an artist, is a distinct weakness. I write what I imagine when i wish to demonstrate it to others because I know I usually can create an approximation of the imagined item, even if I imagined it as animation, film or even graphic literature.

Sometimes I even imgaine things as sound and to certain extent I can create this, but without more musical training or any ability with an instrument these little symphonies remain in my head and eventually wash away like so much else.

It is a shame to be restrained to a medium, but at the same time, I am proud of the medium of language and do my best to work within it as well as I can. It is also a very versatile medium. As script it can become a film, or a graphic novel. Even without explicit scripting it can inspire the other media. indeed all media are capable of bridging the gaps and one artist may well find his or her work transformed into another medium by another artists, and so the flow of ideas continues and original material continues to be produced, despite nay-sayers who would claim that originality is impossible.

Why am I saying all this?

Well, lately Eruntane and I have been experimenting a little more with form. The Chain Fiction we write, such as NFC and the various other we have produced is always an opportunity for experimentation, but even within our respective private works, there has been an exploration for new styles, new ways of expressing what we intend. This is particularly evident in our latest projects.

For Eruntane it is a graphic novel script inspired by a post I made in this blog a few days ago.

For me it is the horror story i mentioned once or twice. This story is an experiment because I am writing it entirely as thought processes and direct speech, no narratorly staging is occuring. For me it is an attempt to tell the story in the literary equivalent of an erratic circle of light, as shone from a torch, only glancing across images and events, so that the reader is forced to imagine more and the horror is all the more ellusive and, hopefully, succesful.

It's a big step for one such as I who loves description as much as I do which leads me to the other reason for this strange ponderance. I took part this evening in an interesting personality test and, whilst it's accuracy in certain areas is deabtable and it seems to shine a more attracive light on me than I deserve, it has re-affirmed things about me I'd like to believe are true and it has given me some very good advice. Here's a link to my report. Feel free to take it yourself and, if you know me, trying psyching me out.

Until next time...

2 Tired 2 Blog 2

Don't tell me you didn't see that title coming, come on...

Anyway, yesterday. It really wasn't a day with much to blog about, but I'll do my best. I posted in NFC - A, or rather extended a stub of a post I had begun on Friday. It took a slightly weird direction, but it was fun to write. A little experimental you might say, although it was similar to a few other posts I have done before. Then there was a trip into town to have lunch (Subway....mmmmnnn) with Eruntane and a trip around a Church (Kirk) which had an archaeological dig going on in it's eastern half, before I went to work and was bored for four hours.

The evening was more exciting, with Eruntane treating us to Sushi she had made herself and even letting us take a hand at making some for ourselves. It was all very tasty and silly and fun as all sushi nights should be!

Oh and that's about it.

Oh well.

I've been reading Poe lately. I'm technically still reading Heretics of Dune by Frank Herbert, but this book of some of Poe's tales and poetry, which I'm borrowing from the Heckler, makes a really good light read when I have a few minutes to spare so I'm getting through it quite quickly. It reminded me that I absolutely adore The Raven, in fact it's probably my favourite poem of all time and also that Poe has a dark imagination whose works may well prove ample inspiration for a short story or two of mine. Here's hoping.

2 Tired 2 Blog

Does exactly what it says on the, er, title. Will update on the "excitement" tomorrow when I feel more awake. Promise.

A Grail Quest or Two, Part II

Apologies for the brevity of last night's post, but I was very tired and very desperate re: watching that X-Files ep, even if it turned out to be rather dissapointing as season finale's good (although not bad by any stretch of the imagination). Anyway I will now endeavour to make up for this sin by fleshing out as many of yesterday's details as I can, although if you really care about flat viewing details pelase see the Green One's blog as all I'd be doing would eb repeating his words. "They were all very nice. When can we move in?".

After the flat viewing however (well technically during) I received a mysterious phonecall I believed to be from a part of the University office telling me that someone had handed in my wallet and asking, could I collect it today? I, of course, said yes and as soon as we were done with the flat viewing I made my way, with the Green One in tow, to the University to retrieve said wallet.

At the student reception I informed them that I was told my wallet had been handed in. I was asked, by a male receptionist, whether it had been handed in at the recption or another department. Since I had assumed it would be connected with the Estates department who I had visited the day before I told him so and he told me to go see them. Five minutes later I arrive at Estates and my question is greeted by a sea of blank faces.

"No, no one's handed in a wallet and we certainly didn't ring you. Where was it found, try there!"

Puzzled, because I was pretty sure it had been the office that rang, I left and visited the computer building (another 5 mins away) where the wallet had been both lost and found. I told them my story and more blank faces followed.

"No idea. Have you tried Security?"

Security was only about a minute or two away, and after realising I was there and stopping their lunchtime conversations (which took a while...) they informed me that they hadn't seen it and no one there had rung me.

So, uncertainly, I tried the student reception again. Had it been handed in there? The female recptionist who greeted me checked all around the office, polled all her colleagues and returned shaking her head dissapointedly.

"I'm sorry but it's not here..."

"I guess I'll try the computer building's porters office then...", I replied, utterly bemused by the proceedings thus far.

The porter's office was, as it had been the day before closed, and I was left wondering where else there was to go. Finalyl I decided as a last ditch effort, I would visit the Student's Association reception and see what they thought.

They were confused. I explained the situation, gave them my name and then suddenly the number that had rung before (private so that I couldn't have rung it back to "trace" it) rang me back.

"Hi, I'm the one you were speaking to before at the reception. Turns out it was here after all. really sorry."

I rushed back adn the female receptionsit explaiend that it ahd been hidden behind one of the reception computers, the on being used by the male receptionist from before who hadn't even bothered to try and check my details to see if it was mine which he should have done 25 minutes earlier, the moment I mentioned the keyword for the day, 'Wallet'. The female receptionist was very apologetic and I just laughed it off. It had been a strange little quest, but I had got my wallet back (minus money and with all the cards scattered about it's back pockets) and you had to laugh really, right?

The other event of interest for the day was the watching of th Da Vinci Code. I give you a mini review.

Ok, I had been filled in on what all the reviews had to say, so i wasn't expecting too much from the film. I have never read the book, and to be honest, although I was itnerested to see what it would be like, this was very much Eruntane's cinema trip (just as the Silent Hill trip was in favour of moi). Still the film turned out not to be as dreaful as the reviews suggested. It was far from perfect, sitting slightly awkwardly on the 'average' mark, and for a film with such hype I guess that's a dreadful failing in and of itself, but it wasn't really a wasted trip.

The opening frustrated me. It was hard to feel comfortable with what you were watching at least partly because it felt rushed and partly because Tom Hanks was producing dire dialogue at a snails pace and I was developing an unusual urge to shoot him and get it over with, however as the film went along it began to improve. Once Ian McKellan's character apepars on the scene it actually takes a turn towards good, despite his long exposition which, just the the nature of the way he told it, raised more interesting (and flaw highlighting) questions than the film was trying to answer.

Even so the puzzles were getting more complicated and clever, the locations were beautifully shot and and the plot was starting to intrigue. Then a succession of twists left me annoyed, due to their predictable and shoddily constructed nature, then another beautiful location and clever puzzle won me over, and so on.

By the end of the film I was generally quite content, but I still couldn't quite shake the moments that had annoyed me. The film was well directed and well shot, the score was brilliant the actors (with the exception of Hanks and Reno who were painfully stiff) put in great performances, but the dialogue and plotting left alot to be desired in many places, things which could be laid at the feet of Dan Brown and Akiva Goldsman. in contrast the one thing which stood out as good in the film was the puzzles, which were fantastically clever and made me realise why a writer of such poor quality as Dan Brown could have made a such a succesfuly book. I don't think it is just the controversy (although that would certainly have been a factor), it's the clever tieing togetehr of a number of factors to create these complex puzzles and clues that, whilst a little too compelx to be truly believable, did leave me feeling inspired.

Also the very last scene was set in a beautiful location, was beautifull shot, ahd a great piece of music accompanying it and left my soul on a soaringly beautiful note. I'm not sure the plot deserved such a finish, but I'm thankful that Ron Howard did it that way.

Oh and U-O's back online again and thus I have added a new link to it accordingly.

A Grail Quest or Two.

Today was a weird day. I went flat viewing and saw some really nice places that could possibly be future homes. I found my wallet via a series of sub quests. I got myself a shiny new copy of Land of the Dead after finding the receipt for it in a bag that was not in anyway connected to my wallet. I had a fantastically marketable idea for a piece of internet entertainment and fiction. I read some Poe(try). And, finally, I watched The Da Vinci Code.

All of this has various levels of interest I am too tired and too desperate to watch the last episode of the X-Files season 3 to want to go into right now. I'll update tomorrow morning before work. Honest!

More Tales of Bee!

With a title like that I can't help but feel that I am some pulp fiction writer, or that perhaps it should be written in a wavey, bloody font beneath a picture of a terrifying behemoth of beedom, threatening us all. Shamefully neither is the case. I just have a few more bee-cidents from my past to unload on your my poor capitve (and sadly rather small) readership.

[Less captivated, More captive, but I've capped it off, more or less]

But anyway, first a brief rundown of the day. It was not such a fine example of it's ilk (what a word!).

1) 'Tried' to revise

2) Discovered that my wallet was missing

3) Searched for wallet

4) Had to cancel cards as wallet was nowhere to be found

Ergo, material absentmindedness is the new procrastination. Q.E.D.

Aside from that most annoying of events, the day was pretty normal. I read a little, continuing my slow but steady (well it is at the moment) plough through frank Herbert's 5th Dune novel, Heretics of Dune, and dabbling a little in the introduction of my collection of H. P. Lovecraft's short stories. I tried to watch Land of the Dead, but concluded the disc was scratched beyond help (bought that way, receipot was in my wallet, sucks to be me). I also played a little more 24 and discovered that stealth is easily beaten by running around like a madman with a machine gun. Games: 1; Reality: 0.

The evening was spent at the CWS end of term party as arranged by Enthusia. It went well, we even managed to socialise. A triumph perhaps? had to leave a little early as Eruntane had sleep-before-work considerations and I felt obliged to return to write in this lovelly thing (for a redership this small? I must be mad!).

Anyway...

More Tales of Bee!

Bees threaten my very existence. I mean it! No this is not the insane ramblings of a man who believes all bees are Killer Bees and that the swarms are marching ever northward to this lonely grey city. I merely mean that my fear of them is life threatening.

To give an example of the phenomena I'm referring to, I shall tell you the tale of the one man who's death was undeniably because of Vampires.

Police, investigating the home of a man who had not been seen for several days, broke down the door to his house to reveal a pile of unread mail. Beyond, in the hall, was a mysterious trail of salt. Crosses hung upon the walls like jumbled up picture frames and the stench of garlic was everywhere. The chief inspector was puzzled and followed the trail of salt through the house, checking each of the rooms it passed. In every chamber the same sght could be seen. Crosses, salt, ropes of garlic. It was clear that the man who had occupied the house was obsessed with vampires.

Eventually the trail of the salt lead to the bedroom. Even beyond the stink of garlic the inspector could smell the stench of decay. He pushed open the door and there, pale as moonlight, lay the man, stretched out on his bed, hands gripping the matress in a final death struggle, frozen as rigor mortis set in. Tentatively the inspector made his way to the bedside, smudging a carefully laid circle of salt ont eh carpet as he did so. Covering his nose he stared down at the man's face; contorted, eyes left wide open in horror, mouth the same. All around the bed, crosses of every size, material and quality watched on impassionately.

Concerned now the inpsector superstitiously checked the man's neck. No marks! But there was soemthing else. A hard lump that could be felt through the decaying flesh of the man's throat.

Carefully the inspector held the man's mouth open and dipped a gloved hand inside. Feeling around eh foudn the lump and managed to prise it free, carefully pulling it up the oesophagus and into the man's gaping mouth. It was a large, slightly decayed, clove of garlic.

The man had effectively killed himself by overprotecting hismelf from soemthing he feared was real. In a similar way, my reactions to bees and wasps in the field, so to speak, has occasionally left me in some rather precarious positions.

The first such example occured when I was about 9 or 10. Back in Northern Ireland I live by the sea. There is a long beach stretching away from my house and visible from most of the upstairs windows and beside this there is an area of rocks. This is where I spent most of my childhood, clambering about across the rocks and trying not to fall into rockpools, usually succesfully, but then again, every now and then I would come home dripping to a mother who wasn't too appreciative of a salt-water-drenched son. Still we ignored such risks, and the ever present fear of strandings, without really caring. Some of the rocks, especially those uncovered by the highest tides, were quite impressive. You actually ahd to climb rock walls to reach their tops and then the way back down would require a gerat deal of care and attention.

Then one day, whilst standing atop such a rock, like a prince surveying his kingdom (in my imagination it usually was), a wasp decided that it wished an audience.

I did what I always do on such occasions, which is to freeze up completely out of absolute terror. This is normally followed by a minute of panicking and then some mad bolt for safety, however here I was atop a rock where the descent was great enough for a mad bolt to be rather dangerous, so I remained frozen. Then I realised the tide was coming in. I had a choice; stranding or running. Unsurprisingly I remained frozen still, too terrified to contemplate the narrowness of my options.

Then, when my friend (also scared of wasps) informed me that we really needed to get going and I should just make a dash for it, I obliged, leaping across the top of the rock and scrambling somewhat dangerously down the side of the rock before running across the ankle-sprainingly uneven surfaces of the rock and shale towards the safety of home.

Somehow I didn't get hurt. I have no idea how.

On a second occasion, much more recently, I was walking up along a road throught the university campus with my headphones on when a bee or wasp suddenly began buzzing around my nose. I froze. I stepped back. I tried to shaked my ehad. Still it hovered there, taunting me, so I made a mad dodge to one side, trying to get out of the thing's way.

A horn blared through my music and I realised I was now standing in the middle of the road in front of a car that had had to brake quite suddenly to avoid running me down. Ok it was a small cobbled road and the worst I could have expected was a(nother) broken leg, but the fear and embarassment from such an incident made me walk the rest of the way up the street in shame (and also very quickly). I just felt so stupid. With the music and the fear I had completed forgotten that other people (and their cars) actually existed and acted like a complete (and suicidal) eejit in front of them.

I think the Tales of Bee vaults of terror are empty now...

Why I can't bee comfortable during the Summer.

I'm not a summer person. This is a fact that has revealed itself to me over the last few weeks as the Spring we waited unneccesarily long for heats up. There are reasons. Let me list them.

1) It's hot. I know winter tends to be too cold and I thoroughly enjoy moaning about it being so, but when I am sitting in the sun and feeling the heat get deeper and deeper into my skin I remember that i always prefer being too cold to being too hot. The last 8 months working in a badly ventilated retail store have drummed that fact into me I think.

2) There are bees. And wasps. Today I made a complete fool out of myself as a bee made itself at home on my shoulder. It was a totally inoffensive be and indeed it was even rather attractive, but nonetheless it made me jump about like a lunatic, throwing off my bag and running about. Even then it remained on my shoudler and had to be strategically flicked off. At least it wasn't a wasp. I sympathise with bees even though they terrify, wasps I both fear and loathe (rather undermining my love for all creatures great and small). Anyway, as the weather heats up so bees and wasps suddenly appear everywhere and plague my pitiful existence. Leave me alone, oh striped avatars of summer suffering!

3) There is sun worshipping. I'd like to point out that we are not lizards. Nor are we snakes. We do not need to bask in the sun. Besides getting our Vitamin D requirements from solar radiation (and only requiring very modest amounts of that), we gain no benefit whatsoever from sun bathing. In fact, we increase our risk of skin cancer, and usually end up, quite literally, red faced. Even so, give a brit a square foot of sun and we will flock to it, strip naked and prostrate ourselves within it's golden warmth. Why? I have no bloody idea, but it irritates me that it becomes a central theme of holidaying. Our two biggest holiday pastimes would appear to be sun bathing and getting drunk and I don't see the fun or benefit of either.

When I was on holiday I always wanted to see new places, and learn new things. It was always about discovery, not the beach and the club. The closest I ever get to such behaviour is spending hours in the swimming pool whilst family members grease themselves up like chips and then follow that analogy to it's logical conclusion.

4) Everyone thinks you are mad for not getting excited about the summer. Nuff said.

I do actually like things about the summer. I'm not a compelte grump about it. I love the change of the seasons and believe every one of them needs to happen to keep things running smoothly. I love seeing new plants and animals, new patterns of weather and so on, but now that I no logner need associate the seasom with school holidays I no longer feel nostalgic or sad when it ends, instead I look forward to the slow chill of autumn, the falling leaves, and the shortening days that allow a pseudo-gothic geek like me to feel at home once more. Besides, clouds give you something to look at in the sky...

Carpark Calliope?

Look. Blogging. On schedule! No visitors tonight then...

Just got back from the nightly trip walking Eruntane back to her flat in drunk student central, taking the usual route which goes through Morrisons' carpark. This is normally a place of strange inspiration. Both Eruntane and I have found it's nocturnal emptiness somehow filled with inspirational thoughts of one kind or another, leading me to believe it may somehow be haunted by the muses (there's a short story waiting to happen). Tonight, however, just as I was entering the carpark from the West North Street (worlds stupidest street name anyone?) side a drunk student type who I had watched stumble his way across the road only a few minutes earlier rushed past me after another guy ahead of me. I was listening to the delightful sound of Utada Hikaru's Keep Tryin' through my headphones, quite loudly in fact, and so did not hear what was going on, but it suddenly became apparent that these two guys were arguing with the altter trying to tell the former to leave and the former trying to knock the latter down. I watched, as my pace quickened, the original drunkard charge clumsily towards the other guy (who seeemed much more sober) and try to ram him into a generic carpark shrubbery. Suffice to say my pace continued to quicken until I was well out of the place. I felt a little guilty, but I doubted there was anything I could do, and they weren't likely to do each other much actual harm as long as the one trying to do all the damage could barely stand. Also, they would never have listened to me.

The day prior to this odd incident was generally a good one. I got up a little late and then procrastinated further by heading into town to take advantage of a DVD store's closing down sale, which resulted in me getting some more Last Exile, Land of the Dead and a few horror novels from somewhere else entirely. I then went into uni and did some more reading aroudn the exciting subjects I have to revise for and came home to sort out my growing library of various media and even (shock I hear you say, shock!) do soem more writing of Darksyde. Okay, so it wasn't the 1000 words I promised done yesterday, but I did write 500 words this evening and that's enough of an effort to give hope to the idea that I'll get the writing unstuck and flowing like it was last winter (1000 words a day, regularly, it was great) which helped it reach the 116,000 words, approx., that I've written of it so far.

I also wrote a little more of the strange SH inspired horror story I mentioned a few posts back. It's barely at 500 words so far, but the style is such that that's actually quite alot of work. To be honest though most of what I did with it tonight was fiddle with the format and play with the title font until it looked right. I can be a sucker for that kind of thing.

LOST was interesting tonight, and it proved my theory: Anyone who appears mad in LOST, is probably right.

When you can't be Rsed to work.

Apologies for the lateness of this blog entry, but Iw as unable to blog last night as I had a visit from the Heckler which turned into a three hour long chat about comics, references, writing, theology, Silent Hill, symbolism, horror, NFC, Ghost in the Shell, his novel, my novel, the Green one's future projects, collaborations, inspirations, aims and his usual spate of borrowings.

This was greatly entertaining and served as a n excuse for me not writing 1000 words of Darksyde, thus ironically, as I discussed my future career as a writer I was also ignoring it as it called away to me from the corner of the room. Shame on me. Still I should be abel to get some more writing done on it soon as I'm beginning to build up a picture in my mind about how I want this section to develop and how to clear away the horrible plotting I had set in motion in favour of a more focused plotline linking toi the central issues of the novel. All thism, without having to delete a single word. It's arguably an excecise both in conservation adn recycling. I am an Eco-novelist.

The earlier portions of the day were spent as follows:

To begin with I got up at an hour I would describe as ungodly and most other humans would describe as all too common, with the aim of having breakfast and cramming in an episode of the X-files before heading to a nearby hotel wheree I was to undertake a training program for work. Four hours of paid cheese, essentially.

This training program began with a film reminding us just how much the compnay i work for actually owsns (assumedly to build a sense of pride, but it actually just sent a chill down my spine) and then we were asked to sum up what words came to mind when you heard our brand name. The other's came up with some very positive images, I however resisted the urge to scream "Coroporate Imperialism!" at the top of my voice. That said, I did actually enjoy the training and took a few useful pointers away which should improve my work and help me to enjoy it more. on another note I was disturbed to discover that there was a conference in the hotel for the University's School of Biological Sciences adn thus most of the lecturers I've had for the past three years, including my academic advisor and my honours supervisor, were sitting in the foyer as I signed myself in and wore a silly badge with my name on it, talking to over-enthusiastic colleagues and trainers. With any luck I shall never meet any of them again...

Once the training was over I ehaded into uni to beegin the arduous task of revision. Revision is one of those R words is it most uncomfortably with. Of the original three, Reading wRiting and aRithmetic, I'm only really uncomfortable with the latter, but ocne you start adding all the other R words that matter, mainly, Research, Revision and possibly even woRk, I Realise that they aRe a hoRRible buRden upon mankind and should be buRnt immediately!

Anyway...

Black and White and Read all over...

Well, inconstant reader*, today has been an odd, but wonderful day. It began with an impromptu lie-in (oops, missed church again :() and resumed at about half twelve when I crawled out of bed and began chatting to friends online, including a conversation with the lovelly Fortunata which involved us challening each other with various songs (making up for the lack of a Song Challenges thread now U-O is down) and generally enjoying the kind of mutual randomness I have with all my friends.

Eventually of course I had to get lunch and whilst it cooked and then whilst I ate it I watched the last few episodes of vol. 2 of Last Exile. Since I was a little harsh about it last night, I feel I should now say that the two episodes I watched today were very good, even if the pace is still rather slugg- (or any other terrestrial mollusc) -ish. The imagination is still pretty high and the atmosphere is quite unique. I will have to endeavour to buy the rest of the series soon-ish.

Next on the agenda was, of course, the reading I mentioned yesterday, but wait, something's stopping me from leaving the flat. Is it some malignant force? Am I becoming trapped in a Silent Hill-Esque madman's nightmarish world? Is this all just a metaphor for stage-fright?

The answer to all those questions is a resounding no. The problem was actually quite a simple one. My flatmate, the Other One, had locked me in by accident. You see we have two locks on our front door and in a flagrant abuse of health and safety laws (probably) one of them can only be locked and unlocked from the outside. We usually use this for locking the flat up in a more secure manner when no one is left inside, today however, the Other One absent mindedly (as proven by his later response of "I don't remember doing that") ignored the fact that I was still quite evidently (we share a room - that's room, not bed) fast asleep and on the inside. Of course, havign slept in and thus not tried to go to church and having no other reason to leave the flat until the reading, I only found out about this at the most inopportune moment, with half an hour until I was supposed to be at the pub we were reading in.

Frantic texts were sent and phone calls made ina desperate attempt to get someone to set me free. I even found myself in the rather ridiculous position of kneeling by the letterbox and whimpering pathetic "Hellooo?"s out into the hallway. Anyway, eventually the Other One returned to let me out and I pegged it as fast as I could to pub, somehow arriving only 5 mins late and, rather quizzically, a few minutes before Eruntane, who was suppsoed to have gotten there before me to inform them of my lateness and the amusing reasoning behind it. She only lives 5 minutes from the pub as well, whereas I live a good twenty minutes away if you don't include running as a viable method of getting there on foot (and I usually don't).

The reading went well after that. I read my two short pieces well, with the slight flaw that my legs wouldn't stop shaking from the nervous excitement I had otherwise shed when I stepped up to the mic. Applause sounded genuine and the other writers congratulated me (and, rightly so, each other - we rock!) and then we listened to the Staff Writers do their bit before bitching about a soon to be ex-member of the society (he deleted all his - and notably the only -copies of our Anthology -which would otherwise have earned us much needed money when we made another run of them - and then had the cheek to blame it on other people's supposed pettyness, suffice to say he is Persona Non Grata and shall be referred to as such in future - or perhaps just PNG) and then ehading to McDonalds for food and further conversation, which eventually made it's way to someone's flat and was well watered with tea and coffee before the night was done, which you will find it now as and, on that note, I bid you adieu.

*C.F. Stephen King

Fondue Fairs Well

If I haven't said it before, fondue is a wonderful invention. Tonight was spent in the company of Eruntane and the Green One, enjoying the afformentioned, merrilly dipping things into cheese and then chocolate. It was all worth looking forward to, and look forward I did, all through my shift at work as I filled shelves and generally tried to find things to do on a night when, quite frankly, people clearly had better things to do than be at our store.

The day prior to that consisted of the usual internet based entertainments (another NFC - A post that didn't really take us anywhere but continued the set up for an event I have planned) and the watching of an episode of Last Exile. I haven't watched an ep of that for a long time as, until about a week ago (less actually) I only had volume 1. I couldn't watch what I had of colume 2 though as I was comitted to finally finishing my viewing of Series 1 of Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex (more on that later). Anyway, it was a good ep, but it continues this series tendancy to be very slow and surpisingly limited in scale and scope in setting up what apparently intends to be an epic plot. It is very pretty and the characters are all very intersting and/or likeable, but I can't help but be concerned that it's taking it's sweet time. Maybe I'm just being picky, but I guess I want my airship adventure stories to all be like Skies of Arcadia.

As for the ending of Ghost in the Shell: SAC, I was a little disapointed. The Green One and Eruntane had already watched it all some time ago and they hyped the ending up ratehr alot. the build up to the finish was indeed fantastic, but the actual last episode was such a let down. It had one great, Oshii-esque conversation that left my head spinning and a nice opening centred around Togusa, but the rest just felt like a cop-out to me and the last minute or two was just pure, unadulterated, unsolicited Cheese (capital C intentional). Oh well, I still look forward to watching 2nd Gig when the Green One gets more of it (don't want to watch it in stalling segments like the first series).

Whilst we ate our fondue tonight, we were 'forced' to watch a program presented by that most random and likable of T.V. personalities, Tony Robinson, on the 'real' Da Vinci Code. I haven't read the cook, but I do intend to go along to see the film with Eruntane who has. (She is a fan of the book like most of the rest of the planet, but attributes it's likability to controversial topic rather than quality of writing, which is very reassuring for an aspiring writer, I don't think.) The documentry was most interesting, focusing on what evidence there was for the conspiracy and concluding that it was mostly based on hoaxes and imagining the possibilites of history. But, when they spoke about the San Greal/Sang Real distinction, I just found myself thinking about Robert Jordan's Sa'angreal and how much I love the Wheel of Time series. Go figure.

Another thing that I did today was play more 24. I came across the first few bits of 24 fan geek-outery at about 2/3 o'clock (can't say for fear of spoilers) and the first strong connection to season 3 which the Green One, having only seen season's 1 and 2 so far, will have missed out on for now, although I'm sure when he watches season 3 he'll be Ah!-ing in the appropriate places, probably.

Tomorrow afternoon, some time after Church, I will have my reading of Brass Petals and Holy War to do. I'm starting to get scared already. Reading your work out in front of people is a tricky thing for the best of people and I get stage fright very easily, still I survived my last such reading (the piece I read then was the first part of a trilogy, I may post it here if there's any demand for such) and so I'm sure I'll do fine with this one, after all there'll be even more support, people will actually be there to see/hear us read (the other reading was as an interlude to a student play festival) and the pieces I'm reading are really short and, I think (modest as I am :p) better for reading in this kind of situation anyway.

Wish me luck!

Writer's... damn, lost it...

Today was a pretty normal day. I posted in NFC - A. I completed TRL (yay). I played more SH4 and 24. I even finally made an English version of Kyo's Ce Soir for Fortunata. Still that was about it.

In other news, Maakasu, another friend from that poor beleagured Utada Online messageboard has joined us pitiful blogger types and now has a link somewhere on the left hand side (it's in alphabetical - or as I would prefer, alphabetic - '-ical' as an ending annoys me when -ic does just fine on it's own - order, so don't fret that there might be favouritism - and if there is it would be towards the lovely Eruntane anyway, who just so happens to be first - gosh this is a long parenthetical - works there 'cos it's a noun not an adjective, honest - shutting up now) so you should give that a visit if you're looking for more bloggy randomness.

As to yesterdays update, since then I have received a song I had been looking for for a while and discovered that the version I had been wanting was the Goth Version. I am doomed.

Oh well to finish, a little slice of the random I composed on my way back from the supermarket today:

Writer's Black

It always

Gets me

In

The End.

Can a student society be damned by it's own unexpected success?

Tonight (cos that's when anything of interest actually began) the Aberdeen University Creative Writing Society had a practice reading. On sunday we have an hour long slot to read our work as part of the Word Festival, an annual event that celebrates creative writing in all it's forms and which is meant to be one of the best events of it's kind. Anyway: the practice, fun...

An hour is a very short time in which to fit the selected works of fourteen people. A very short time indeed. Trying to order our readings and trim down the submissions so that this could actually work was hard. We ended up having to put three people on a reserve list in the hope that the staff writers, who are on after us, don't use their whole hour. Incidentally, if I haven't mentioned it already I'm reading Brass Petals and Holy War, originally posted on these very web-based pages (kinda makes you wonder if I really have written anything else, huh?).

On a seperate and more joyous note, the CWS hoodies came tonight. They are black with a zipper and have a little badge containing the university crest and our name. Very simple, but ever so cool, and the first hoodie I've ever got with an official UoA crest on it, so it' soemthing to remember the things I valued most about my time at Uni.

Of course it being a hoodie with a zipper, and a black one at that, kinda makes it look a bit Emo. Combined with my recent choice of listenings (French 'angsty' rock band, Kyo, and Queen of 'soulful angst', P!nk) and my long hair and goatee-ish appearance, plus the fact that I'm currently writing an angsty sixteen year old with similarly long (but more anime-esque) hair and and penchant for dark colours (not forgetting the fact that his grandfather was a dark god...) in NFC - A, I'm beginning to worry that I'm turning into some sort of early 20's Emo-type myself.

This shouldn't surprise me. I've always been a little on the "woe is me", wallowing-in-depression side of things and after I discovered just how much I loved horror and dark fantasy I concluded there simply must be a parallel universe out there where I am a goth.

But Emo?

Honestly?

I hope not...

P.S. For those of you on U-O browsing here out of a desire to contact me, I am on MSN and I have e-mail. I'm sure you can work out the rest ;)

I have a statement to make...

Wow, what a random day.

It started off pretty normal for me, although there was surprsingly little sleeping in. I played some SH4, ate some toast, chatted online, all the usuall dullities, with the added fun of waiting for my work uniform to hurry up and finish in the tumble dryer so I could iron it and go to work.

Work was were the weirdness happened. In the midst of an ordinary 4-8 shift, I found myself running after a security guard through a Boots store (and up flights of stairs, huff huff) to reach the place where some other guards had restrained a man suspected of shoplifting from our store. I had seen the man acting suspiciously in a corner of the store and ratehr stupidly went on with my tasks, only to come out minutes later and find one of the managerial team calling out for the secruity guards.

Anyway this shoplifter was drunk and probably also high on something. he had been carrying needles and confessed to having Hepatitis. He was also in no fit state to do anything whatsoever, nevermind steal from a retailer. Still because of my stupidity and the lack of staff on the shop floor he managed to nearly get away with it, only getting caught because he was trying to sell the stuff (some girls underwear and costumes) to passers by outside a pub opposite the shopping centre entrance. He also had a companion who, as I made the final leg of the epic trek across the centre and Boots and a bit of Aberdeen city centre, tried to run the secuirty guard I was following down on a bicycle. It was like a little mini witness protection melodrama and I was at the centre of it, complete with police statements. Very weird.

Rest of the evening was spent unwrapping and stacking toy drums and then in the company of Enthusia (the most excitable woman ever FULL STOP) and friends to watch a little random British hospital comedy called Green Wing and some of my favourite Miyazaki film (at the moment of going to press), Princess Mononoke. There was the threat of watching Grave of the Fireflies, which reduced me to a sobbing wreck last time I saw it and so might have resulted in me refusing it watch it at all (brilliant though it was). Sadly we had to leave before the film was over as Eruntane had work to worry about and I had this blog and possible posting fun, which I may now attend to. Good night.

P.S. There's a new link down there on the lefthand side. Click on it and it'll take you to the blog of one of my nice U-O friends (U-O is currently down which is, for want of a better term, teh suxorz), Fortunata, who was kind enough to link to me, thus I return the favour. She's only just begun blogging, but it promises to have lots of random insights and I wish her the best of luck!

Unlucky for Some/Diversions/The Quest for the Wholesale Pricetags.

So yes, the geekdom has begun in earnest. I have spent time and effort in advertising someone else's creation for my own entertainment. Someone else's creation which, I might add, I will probably not get my hands on for another year and a half (or two... or three). But it is so very pretty and making this sig (fairly crappy considering how time consuming it was) was fun. I can't wait for this game. I also can't wait for it's little sibling FFXII. Neither will be mine anytime soon however so I will entertain myself in otherways.

One such way is playing the games I already have. I confess to not having gone back to Tomb Raider, other than to collect some secrets I had missed, sicne getting stuck. Shame on me, it's not like I wont enjoy replaying the entire level. I also haven't gone back to Dragon Quest since I have been otherwise distracted. I have however continued with Silent Hill 4: The Room, which has got gradually better as it has progressed, but is still nowhere near as good as 2 or 3. Today I entered the hole in Henry's bathroom to find myself in the freakiest (and best) world yet, but still feel the game lacks something the others have, like darkness and certain more primal elements that come from fewer save points and more reliable weapons. The graphics are very pretty, though, and the music is some of the best in the series and the events that unfold in Henry's apartment itself are suitably freaky (more so than in the worlds, perhaps a sign of their flaws?).

Also, I finally got 24 - The Game - today. I had been intending to get it for a while, being quite a big fan of the series (although it's clearly going downhill), but I had other priorities and a spending ban restricting it's purchase. Today however I saw it from £20 and with a 10% student discount (that'll run out in another 2 or 3 months! - SHOCK) it became a very pleasing £17.99. I purchased it (along with a comic and two anime DVDs) accordingly. only played a little of it, and whilst some elements are dissapointing, it has much promise. The Green One has played more than I and his blog has a better review, so go there if you care to learn more.

Finally I watched episode 3 of season 2 of LOST tonight. That show really is the best thing on T.V. for years. You never know where it'll go next, you always care about what's happning to the characters, both in the present and the past, and the tantalising hints as to what's going on, as well as the disorienting links between the strangest of things, create a kind of modern fantasy that I just can't get enough of. I eagerly await the next episode, and the eventuall rewatching of season 1 when the DVD comes down yet further in price (it's currently £29.99, I'm aiming for £24.99 or less, though it's worth much more).

For a day in which not aot happened, I seem to have had a lot to say...

But its frelling fun to be a blatant, blubbering Final Fantasy fan boy, believe me!

E3 is happening right now. The Electronic Entertainment Expo is the largest gaming event of the year and it is always there that the biggest announcements software companies have to make get made. As a generaly gaming geek this gets me excited at the best of times, but Square Enix, my favourite software company of all time (because they brought me my favourite RPGs of all time), had some extra special announcements to make this year, most importantly:

FINAL FANTASY XIII

Wow does it look pretty. And futuristic. And wait! We haven't even played FFXII yet!

Anyway the rest of the day. There was a dull lecture, in which I started writing a psychological, supernatural horror story, no work, some SH4 and then Eruntane's birthday!

We went to an all you can eat Chinese buffet (my favourite in Aberdeen) and stuffed ourselves silly before playing that most addictive of games, Ligretto. It was all very fun and most importantly Eruntane enjoyed herself. A good evening all round.

Alone in the dark and enjoying the peace and quiet for a change.

I updated yesterday. It invovled a bus and srunk people and the revealing of underwear, but since blogger decided not to upload it at all in any way shape or form, you'll just have to do without. Poor you.

Today however... Well today wasn't exactly exciting. It involved remaining stuck in TR: Legend (I'm playing it on - since everyone said it was very easy - and am discovering that some bosses are nigh on impossible when you don't have a few health packs), playing Silent Hill 4: The Room and officially getting further than I ever have before by seeing a new cutscene (woot), wrapping presents for my brother and girlfriend who inconvenience me by sharing a birthday (I jest, such a coincidence actually makes my life easier as I'm terrible with dates - Happy Birthday both of you, you rock!) and fianlly watching Night Watch [Nochnoi Dozor] on DVD which I had purchased last week.

It made much more sense the second time around (although I throughly enjoyed it the first time, even with the confusion) and I'm left anxiously looking forward to Day Watch [Dvevnoy Dozor] whenever it feels fit to be released.

Watching it though I realised that I'm drawn to it by its use of dark, unpleasant environments and shifting horror realities, just as I am drawn to Silent Hill, in fact. Similarily I've recently seen some pictures and a trailer for the next Alone in the Dark game (a series I have never really played) and fell in love with it's dark otherworldy imagery incading the tenements of New York. I'm not sure whether I should be worried about this or not, but it has clearly influence my writing as Darksyde is very much in the same category. E-mail me, encourage me to write it and get it published and you can see for yourself.

A Haiku of sorts.

The essay is done;
Gimme a Hallelujah!
Other thoughts pending.

Writing, writing everywhere and not an essay complete...

Well today was a day consumed by a little too much essay writing and an evil photocopier (which consumed quite a lot of paper as well). Finally made it to over 2,000 words before having to head off to the Creative Writing Society meeting this evening and I've just recently discovered that 2,000 was the minimum word length so I'm actually doing alright now (hence being up at half one chatting to americans). The meeting itself was brief (only three people, including myself, submitted anything and they were all short), but my submissions (Brass Petals and Holy War, originally written in this very blog) went down ratehr well and I got some really good feedback.

I do love that society.

It keeps me insane.

Not Yet In Pain...

As the title suggests I am not yet experiencing the appropriate levels of agony for a day post-ceilidh. I expect it will kick in (possibly very literally) tomorrow.

Today was an odd day. This was by virtue of the fact that it felt very busy, but there were really only two things happening to me:

1) As a class representative for one of the courses I have barely been attending this term I had to attend the annual Zoology Dept. Student/Staff Liason Meeting, wher we sat arounf for two hours criticsing our courses. I rather enjoy it...

2) I had work this evening, which was quiet and ratehr pleasant.

Nonetheless, possibly because of the looming essay I didn't quote have time to continue today becaus eof the above, I felt rushed off my feet. Also, even though I'm not in pain from last night, I did spend the day feeling rather tired. God help me tomorrow when I actually have to get up early and work on that bleeding essay! (Actual blood may soon be involved).

Oh well only two days left until it's over either way :) :( :S

We watched the first two episodes of LOST, season two this evening on Channel 4. It was actually on last night but we had to record it because of the Ceilidh. Anyway, after months of avoiding season two related spoilers, we have now got our foot under the door (or at the bottom of the hatch) and can merrily enjoy another exciting season of one of the best shows on t.v.. The pre-title sequence of episode one was in fact poissibly the single best opening to a season i've ever seen and the way they have twisted around the events so as to give the minimal amount away is, as always, very well done. I can't wait to see what questions we'll be asking ourselves next (do I even want answers?).

Final note. It ahs been two days now sicne I last played TRL. I am sad. I miss it. I don't have time :(.