Friday, March 12The time has come for me to write. It may not be the best time to write, considering just how much other stuff I have to do, but I want to write, and I have things to say. In fact, I have an incredible amount of things to say. Itís been nearly two weeks since I wrote anything of note here, and a lot of things have happened. It is with that in mind that Iíve chosen to split this post up somewhat, with handy titles for each individual portion, rather than my usual rambling lengthy post that is generally presented on this sort of occasion.
Thus, the various sections are The Strip Club, The Boredom, The Parents, The Girl, The Films, The Workload, The Finances and finally The Decision(s). Theyíre in a roughly chronological order, but cross-over a hell of a lot and blend themselves into a single story that is my chaotic and somewhat rollercoaster-esque life. It is a good read, I promise, and will inevitably contain some of my rawest writing that I have ever posted here. It gets deep.
So, without further ado:
The Strip Club
Number One In A Series Of One: Modern Etiquette Dilemmas. When in a seedy strip pub, should one remove oneís outer coat or not?
This was a dilemma that was playing on my mind last Tuesday. I got a random phone call just before my first lecture of the day from one of my mates from back home in Melksham. He was in London for the day, and was wondering if I wanted to go meet him and another guy I know to do something. I made my excuses to skip a German Language class, and went to see them at Covent Garden tube station.
It was there that Wes (for it was he) suggested going to this ultra-cheap pub in Kingís Cross (where else?) which had strippers in all day every day. I remembered Wes telling me about this the last time he was down in London, and I had nothing else to do, so I figured that I might as well go along. A pretty good decision, it turned out.
After 10 minutes spent trying to find the pub, we eventually went in through the door to be confronted with what looked like a pretty bog-standard old-school East End pub. Dark, brown and, well, seedy. It was only once you got round the corner that you saw the stage and the cavorting nearly-naked woman on it. Well, I say ďnearly-nakedĒ. That didnít last long.
The odd thing about this place (not that Iíve been to other strip clubs to glean comparisons) was that instead of putting notes into the girlís clothes as she danced, they came round before dancing with a pint glass, into which you put a minimum of 50p. They danced to every other song (i.e. once every 10 minutes), so it was incredibly cheap. We stayed there for just over an hour (actually, probably closer to 90 minutes) and then went to another pub for a quick pint whilst waiting for a new girl to start her shift.
I decided that I had to get back to the library and do at least a smidgen of work before that afternoonís tutorial, so I said my goodbyes and headed off, whilst they went back into the pub. Apparently, they were there for another 2 hoursÖ
The worst thing about the whole day (if there was such a thing) is that whilst my phone was turned off in the pub, Girl tried to ring me, and instead texted me, asking me if I wanted to go for lunch. I rang Her on my way back to the library, and said that I had met a few mates from back home (true) and gone for some lunch with them (sort of true, ish).
Anyway, I went to the library, and chatted with Her for a bit in there, telling Her the truth (honesty is the best policy, or something like that) about where Iíd been. She took it as well as could be expected (i.e. badly), but was still cool to talk to. Iíd had a few pints by then, and I was therefore talking pretty much non-stop. I canít help myself!!! (Which reminds me, that track by Lucid is still amazing after all these years)
I managed to get precisely no work done, but it was OK because the tutorial was very dull and not even on that subject anyway. See how Bored I was in it by reading what I instead wrote instead of paying proper attention for 15 minutes part-way through it.
After that, I met back up with Wes and Stapes to go for another drink before they headed home. We ended up in the Slug & Lettuce just off Regent St, which is an alright pub / bar, and has very reasonable prices considering its location. We thought we saw Martin Bashir, but on further study we decided it wasnít him. Whoever it was though, was a very lucky guy, because he had the full and undivided attention of 3 very good-looking women with him. Bastard.
And that about sums up Tuesday, the 2nd March. Only another 10 days worth of news to write about.
Note: This is reproduced verbatim from something I wrote whilst bored in an Evidence class on that Tuesday afternoon. I choose not to edit anything when I write it, and I canít remember what I wrote, so here goes nothing.
Hmm, being a little bit inebriated in a class is not much fun. Especially when itís a bit of a slow / boring day. Itís a long story, one which I will retell / reiterate a little later [Editorís note: see above]. Perhaps when I'm slightly freer from the influence of my good friend Mr Alcohol. I love him and he loves me. Even if he does rape my wallet from time to time.
Dear God, this teacher is soooo enthusiastic / expressive. Heís a Greek guy, an actual solicitor I have been led to believe, and he is so very, very enthusiastic. He knows his shit, no question, but I find his teaching style a little obtuse and erratic. That, and the fact that I have lost a hell of a lot of my interest in this subject. I reckon that Iíve made it to 4 of 7 classes since Christmas Iíve prepared the work / reading prior to a class on a mere 2 occasions. I think I can officially say that Iíve lost interest. Meh.
Man, I canít stop my eyes closing and my eyelids drooping. I should learn to go to bed earlier. I blame Kiwi. I was chatting to him on MSN Messenger until around 2 last night, mostly about fuck-all. He did inspire me to join a gym though. I would like to get fir, but Iíd also like to do it with minimum effort. Lazy, I know.
LOL, writing the word "minimum" by hand brings back memories of a Maths teacher during my A-Levels. Whenever he wrote "minimum" on the board, he would just do a series of ups and downs and then stick a couple of dots over them at some point. We used to annoy him by debating whether he had the correct number of ups and downs each time.
Those were the days: no bills, no food shopping; no concerns about a career; no responsibility; no nothing. How we all long for a return to childhood, an opportunity to sing those Songs of Innocence once more. See that, a random reference to an 18th-century poet? I'm so learned.
On that note, I reckon a couple of my housemates are getting a little bit annoyed with me. Like I have said in numerous posts, I have given up on them to a large extent. Iíve also started being more self-confident (perhaps even arrogant) in the house, especially when watching quiz shows on TV. I happen to have a good (random?) general knowledge, and I like to display it. This can come across as arrogance to a certain extent, but I'm not that fussed any more. They all give me so much shit that Iíve decided to promote myself more and make my voice heard. Bollocks to them if they canít deal with it. They should stop making my life so fucking difficult / stressful.
Iíve filled up more than a page of scribbling, so Iíll stop writing. I guess I should get my £1100 per yearís worth of education. Even if it is boring and I'm no longer interested.
Gah!!! Life is such a pain in the ass.
Before I get onto the day my parents came to London (last Wednesday, to be precise), I will just write a little about what happened earlier that morning.
Ok, so it was the day after the The Strip Club. I had spoken to Her that day, and I had a class with Her on the Wednesday morning. I finally plucked up the courage / forwardness to ask Her if She fancied going for a coffee or something. She actually said "Yes" (no, really!), so we walked down to the local Caffe Nero (so much better than that Starbucks crap).
We talked for over an hour, about anything and everything, and I had a really good time. I felt comfortable around Her, which doesnít often happen for me, and I think She felt the same about being around me. I told Her that she should come to Phase on the Friday night, as I was inevitably going to be there. She sort of agreed, but I wasnít certain that she was going to make it. More on that Below.
Anyway, my parents. The original reasoning for their journey down to see me was to give me my tuxedo in readiness for the Law Ball this coming Friday, but it sort of evolved into a ďcoming-to-spend-the-day-with-meĒ type thing. I met them down near my uni, because I was already there, and because itís right in the centre of London anyway.
We walked from there to Covent Garden and grabbed some lunch in the Market Hall there. We were chatting about one thing and another, and it occurred to me that I could get free aeroplane tickets to Australia through my Dadís company. OK, so it didnít "occur" to me, Iíd been talking about it with Her whilst we were having coffee, but nonetheless it was the first time that Iíd brought it up with my parents.
It sort of evolved from that initial idea to going out to Oz for a month over the summer, as a 21st Birthday present (this November, if youíre interested) from my parents. I started giving very serious thought to this, and I am still very much inclined to do it. The problem therein is that I need some big money behind me (£1000+) in order to have a good time out there. I donít have that right now, quell surprise, and I so desperately need to get a job. Again, see below.
Anyway, itís an idea.
After that, I managed to break 2 of my ethical views / standpoints. I bought some clothes from Gap, and I had a coffee in Starbucks. Well, I say that I did this, but it wasnít actually me who did any of the transactions. My parents paid for both. I got a shirt and yet another jacket from Gap. I have a huge collection of coats / jackets; theyíre for me like shoes are for women. I have more than one for every day of the week, and I also have a number of jumpers that I wear as outer garments all the time. None of them have come particularly cheap either. Meh.
The Starbucks thing was because it was the only coffee shop in sight whilst we were on Oxford Street. Not my fault, I swear.
My Mum was very pleased because she managed to get one of the 2 wedding outfits that she was after. I donít think that she particularly came to London to do some shopping, but we ended up spending fucking ages in House of Fraser. The amount of glares I got from all of the old Sales Assistants whilst I was waiting for my Mum to finish in the changing rooms was unbelievable. Bitchy, stupid old women. My parents were spending nearly £500 in their department, and all I was getting was evil glares. Fuck you.
I had to leave my parents for a little while, since I had to go to another class. It was good job I didnít skip that one too, because we got given our Coursework assignment. Plus I got to speak some German for the first time that work. I'm so going to struggle when I get over there this October. I'm just not very good, or so I think.
After that class, I met back up with my Mum and Dad, and we grabbed a quick drink in this random bar in Covent Garden. Russian Mules are amazing cocktails. We then went back towards my house, stopping at Sainsburyís on the way to buy me some food. Mmmm, full cupboard.
For dinner we went to this fantastic Chinese restaurant that is opposite my house. A little bit pricey, but incredible food. Also, you have to use chopsticks, which is always good fun. We said our goodbyes after that, and I tried to do a little bit of work for the next day. A good day out, definitely.
Jeez, how do I go about explaining this one? I guess I should start from the very beginning. It makes sense that way. Things usually do.
So, thereís this girl. I have chosen to call her by the name of Girl here. I have no particular reason for doing so, itís just what I have chosen to do. Thereís probably some underlying Freudian thing about depersonalisation or something, but I'm not interested in exploring that avenue. Well, not at the moment, at any rate.
Anyway, Girl is in my Criminology lectures and tutorial. I didnít ever meet Her (note the almost God-like status I am assigning Her by capitalising Her personal pronouns) in my first year, but Iíve become friends with Her since September, by virtue of these classes together.
Since reading week, in mid-February, things seem to have got a bit more involved. She seemed even more friendly than usual towards me, and was particularly nice to me in a way that I donít generally get from the opposite sex. I didnít think a huge amount about it, other than it was cool to have Her as a good friend.
I invited Her to the massive house-party we had a few weeks back, as a friend just like I invited nearly all of my friends (Side-note: One managed to make it. Cheers guys). She wasnít able to make it, but the following Tuesday I was chatting with Her as we walked towards the library after a lecture or something.
It turns out that She rang my phone that night at about 3am, because She had just broken up with Her boyfriend and had had a bad night out. I only vaguely remember seeing a missed call on my phone from a random unknown number, but evidently I had thought nothing of it. Dammit, I thought, if only I had realised my phone was ringing! It was loud at the party though, and I was very drunk at the time, so it was probably for the best that She didnít see me like that in the first time weíd met up outside classes.
The important thing, however, was that She had thought of me that night, and was willing to take a night bus at 3am to come see me. It suddenly clicked: She likes me because She properly likes me. A whole new light shone. Do I sound overly poetic / sappy? Meh.
Over the next few weeks or so, we started texting more than usual, and gently flirting / chatting in lectures and classes. Finally, I eventually plucked up the courage to ask Her if she fancied going for a coffee on the morning before my parents arrived. As I said above, it was cool, and we chatted for ages. Read about it above if you havenít already.
As I also said above, I told Her She should come to Phase on the Friday night, because it was a really ďfunĒ (ahem) night out. Plus, I was going to be there. Need you ask for more?
Friday night rolled around, and I set about getting ready for a wicked night out. Admittedly, it was only to Phase, but it was the first time Iíd been out in ages, and I was determined to enjoy it. With that in mind, I picked up some WKDs from the shop on the way back from the Tube station and drank a fair few of them before we all left our flat. I have to say that itís been far too long since I last danced around my bedroom to some quality tunes before going on a night out. I was in a spectacularly good mood.
We got to the Waterfront (the bar at the Student Union) at some point, and I promptly got on the Double Southern Comforts and Lemonade. What, they were on cheap! A few of those quickly went down, and then we made our way upstairs to Phase itself. Oh Phase, home of a thousand memory gaps and some random stains on my favourite t-shirts, how we love thee.
Anyway, I quickly made my way to the bar and grabbed a pint of Southern Comfort and Lemonade. I donít mess around when I'm drinking. I was just about to go upstairs to see some people when I spotted Her waving at me from near the cloakroom. I wandered over to see Her, and She seemed very pleased to see me. She looked amazing (not that She doesnít always), absolutely fantastic. I chatted for a couple of minutes, but when She asked me to dance I made an excuse of some sort and headed upstairs, with a promise to return to Her shortly.
Upstairs, I bumped into a few people I know and chatted with them for a bit, including causing an utter look of dismay to show itself on Mattís face when I mentioned that She liked me in quite a big way. Matt, donít hate me because I'm beautiful. ;)
When I went back downstairs and found Her on the dance floor, I was amazed to see that She quickly dropped the guy She was dancing with and came immediately over to me. Honestly, truly amazed. That never, ever happens. Ever.
We danced for what seemed the entire night (I think it was actually the entire night, to be honest), and it was the best time ever. We kept dancing very sexily (OK, so She was dancing sexily, I was just doing my usual thing of trying to dance sexily), including getting forehead to forehead numerous times. She told me after about an hour that She didnít kiss in nightclubs because it was tacky (fair enough), but then kept admonishing me for ďtemptingĒ Her. Hey, donít hate me because I'm beautiful.
I wrote here a few weeks (months?) ago about a perfect moment I had, listening to the Fugees at Westminster tube station. There was another one that night. We were dancing to some random song (if memory serves, a little hazily, it was a cool late-90s trancey-dancey tune), slightly apart, when all of a sudden we were both staring into each otherís eyes, and had stopped moving completely. It lasted barely a second, but it was perfect. Undeniably a perfect moment.
The end of the night rolled around, and we were literally the last two people out of Phase that night, something that I had never before knowingly achieved. We said our goodbyes at the bus stop, after another mini-dig at me from Her for ďtemptingĒ Her. Hell, you could have just stopped resisting. ;)
I rang Her on Saturday evening, and was on the phone for over an hour, again something which I had never really done before. Was I falling in love? I have no idea. We arranged to meet on Sunday afternoon, to go see a film or something.
We did meet up at Leicester Square, and eventually decided to see Kill Bill. For my thoughts on it, see below. Before the film started, we wandered around Piccadilly Trocadero, and watched this random dance-off hosted by Kiss 100, in aid of some new film thatís coming out soon. It was cool to stand in the crowd with my arms around Her, feeling all warm and nice.
Nothing happened between us happened in the cinema, save for a tray of nachos (nachos in the cinema = genius), and we went afterwards to this cafť on Leicester Square to grab a coffee or something. Hot chocolates, in fact. We sat there for what seemed like forever (in a good way), talking and generally enjoying the moment.
I think I fascinate Her. In a big way. She reads this blog, because I gave Her the address, and She knows so much about me. She also constantly asks what I'm thinking, to which I never have a good answer, because I'm never really thinking, just enjoying the moment and Her company. It was a little one-sided in the conversation, because She was constantly asking me things, and I was just enjoying the time spent together.
I took great pains to explain how I'm just not a forward kind of guy, but that that doesnít mean that I didnít like Her. Itís just the way I am, and probably always will be. I'm shy, I know. Again, no kissing, for a reason which I canít quite determine. I'm just so shy and unconfident, even in a situation where I'm absolutely certain that the other person likes me as much as I like them I guess itís all new to me.
I rang Her again that night, for another lengthy conversation about God-knows-what. We just talked random stuff at each other, and laid on some gentle flirting. I told Her that Iíd ring Her on the Monday evening, because we donít see each other at classes on that day of the week.
Ultimately, that turned out to be false. The thing is, I texted Her a lot during the day on Monday itself, and I got a bit busy with doing some work and other things on the Monday night. No worries, I thought, Iíd just see Her the next day at our lecture together.
Again, a falsehood. I tried to save Her a seat, I really did, but this guy I know came and sat next to me. I couldnít really say to him "Sorry, but can you sit somewhere else" without sounding like a complete fuckhead, so I didnít get to see Her during the lecture. I only managed to speak to Her briefly after, because we both had to get to classes straight away, but again I promised to ring Her that evening.
And I was honestly just about to ring Her that evening when She rang me. Honestly I was just about to! She had a little moan at me, and asked me if I still wanted to see Her, but I managed to convince that I did. We talked for over 2 hours that night, and She asked me to go with Her the next morning after our tutorial to Covent Garden, where She had seen this coat that She wanted. Apparently, my opinion was valid in Her decision on whether to buy it or not. Note that I donít actually have much fashion taste, so I'm not quite sure how I landed that role.
Wednesday morning came, and we did indeed (got to stop using that word) go to Covent Garden. She had found this very, very cool jacket, and after my say-so (even though She probably would have gone ahead and bought it anyway. Maybe) she bought it. I got the carthorse job of carrying the bag (no worries, I'm a gentleman) back to Waterloo, where She caught her bus.
Once again, we were this close to kissing, but it just didnít happen. My fault? Her fault? Our fault? Iíve no idea, and I'm not sure I'm going to find out. See the Decisions piece for a full explanation.
And that is Girl. Itís incredibly difficult to remember to keep capitalising the personal pronouns when youíre typing. Incredibly difficult.
For some reason, the last two weeks have been a film-filled time. Iíve watched so many films recently, most of them very good ones.
It started on the evening of Friday 27th February (Shit, itís been that long?!), when I was home alone in the house and decided to watch one of the DVDs I bought in January that I hadnít watched yet. Itís called Timecode, and is an absolutely fantastic film.
The basic concept of the film is that it isnít one film. The screen is split into 4 quarters, each showing the scene from a different camera. There are no edits involved, as each quarter is a single 90-minute shot with no breaks. They are all filmed simultaneously, and the characters from each one crossover into each otherís quarter throughout. The quarter-screens donít even stay with the same character throughout, but move around to follow different characters as they interact with each other.
Oh, and most of the action is improvised. There is a basic structure there, but most of the dialogue and storyline was improvised as it went along. I read in the sleeve notes that this film was the 16th "take" of the film, with each version being a very different and self-contained film.
I absolutely loved the concept, and it is a revolutionary step in film-making. It just shows that if you do interesting things cinematographically, you will get peopleís attention and be able to have a film that truly stands out as a piece of art. More films like this please!
On that Saturday night I managed to convince the rest of my housemates that they needed to see Natural Born Killers. Iíd bought that pretty recently too, and had only watched it for the first time a few weeks previously. Thatís a good film too, a nice little commentary on the media, as well as being ultra-violent. Almost comically so, to some extent.
On the Sunday afternoon, ITV had Live And Let Die on. I donít mind Bond movies, and it wasnít as if I had anything better to do, so me and a couple of my other housemates sat through that. Bond is so cool, and Timothy Dalton is definitely an underrated Bond actor. The only problem was that ITV cut some little bits in order to make it palatable for a Sunday lunchtime audience. These included the little ďBull shitĒ comment at one point, but also (ashamedly) the bit near the end where the guy gets set on fire and falls / runs down the hill to his gruesome demise. Whatís the point in a Bond film if you donít get to see the bad guy get it in the end?!
Also on Sunday afternoon I somehow convinced another of my housemates that he needed to see Road To Perdition, another of my DVDs which I hadnít actually got round to watching. I was thoroughly looking forward to it, because I think Jude Law is a very good actor (which proved true), and I thought American Beauty (Sam Mendesí previous film) was a truly gobsmackingly beautiful film.
Admittedly, this wasnít quite as good as his earlier effort, but trying to live up to American Beauty is no mean feat. Road To Perdition was indeed beautifully shot, and a very good film, but I just didnít connect to it in the same manner as I did to American Beauty. Not to say that I didnít enjoy it, because I did, but it just wasnít as good as American Beauty.
The third film I fitted in on that (amazing) Sunday was Starship Troopers. Yes, itís so bad itís good, and it is pretty much hilarious, but itís not a bad film per se. I managed to lose a £5 bet to Phil that Will from Will & Grace was in it, after a lengthy hunt around IMDB for proof that I was right. I hate losing bets, and I am never making any like that again. I'm still getting ribbed over it now, because of my vehemence in expressing my belief that it was Will. It soooo was.
I canít remember seeing any more films until that Thursday, when I bumped into a couple of my housemates whilst at uni. We ended up going to see that new Chinese police thriller film, Infernal Affairs. It was very good, even if it does take you a little while to determine one character from the other. The plot twists were well-timed, especially the final one. You really donít see it coming. I recommend that film to anyone who thinks that the best cinema comes out of Hollywood. Not always, my friends.
We saw that film in my new favourite cinema, the Curzon Soho. Itís an arthouse cinema in a prime West-End location, and is reasonably inexpensive. When we went, it had so 4 films which I was desperate to see playing, but only Infernal Affairs was available at the time. I need to see Lost In Translation, Dogville and Elephant before they leave the cinemas. Especially Dogville. Dogme films sound like a fantastic concept in filmmaking.
As I said above, I went with Girl to the cinema on Sunday to see Kill Bill. Yes, I know itís been and gone in the cinemas over here, but Iíd missed it first time round. I got drunk at lunchtime and fell asleep in the evening, after which my housemates couldnít wake me when they went out to see it. Damn you, alcohol!!!
I was thoroughly impressed with Kill Bill, but then I love Tarantino films. What I loved the most about it was the anime sequence in the middle, telling of the origins of Lucy Liuís character. It brought back memories of watching the Animatrix, which is always a good thing. Also, the sheer amount of blood in it was fucking hilarious. That goes for the entire film, in fact, not just the anime section. I got told off by Girl for laughing as the litres of blood filled the screen after each slicing and dicing.
Roll on Volume 2!
I think it was Sunday night that I also saw the first hour of Saving Private Ryan for the second time in as many weeks. I just canít resist watching that film, especially that initial landing scene. An amazing piece of direction and cinema. It truly will go down in film history just as much as D-Day itself has gone down in history.
The reason why I didnít watch the rest of it is because Cruel Intentions was also on the TV. One of my favourite films, because it is so God-damn sexy. Sarah Michelle Gellar is soooo hot, and she has an incredible chemistry with Ryan Phillipe on-screen. Itís thus weird that Ryan Phillipe found his future wife (the delectable Ms Witherspoon) on the set of that film.
Momentary pause in praise of Sarah Michelle Gellar kissing Selma Blair.
I thank you.
Monday (the 8th March. You keeping up?) was another good day for sitting around watching films. I told myself that Iíd do some work as soon as Iíd watched a film, because I wasnít yet in the mood to do any. I figured that I hadnít watched The Terminator since Iíd got it for Christmas on DVD, so that was as good as any. I watched it on my computer because there were a few other people in the living room, and I was pretty sure they wouldnít be up for it.
Terminator is a great film. If the second was a true sci-fi action flick, this one was a classic sci-fi horror film, in the same vein as Alien. ďTech-noirĒ was the term I believe summed it up in the sleeve notes. Arnie is one scary bugger when he plays a bad guy. Especially an almost unkillable cyborg kinda bad guy.
For some reason, one of my housemates wanted to watch Run Lola Run on that evening. Hey, I wasnít about to complain! I absolutely adore that film, especially the music. We watched it in German with English subtitles for the benefit of one of my other housemates who was in the room. Me and Alex both speak German to a pretty high standard, so we probably could have coped without the subtitles, but it was handy (if a little distracting) to have them there.
Man, that film is unbelievably good. It appealed to me because I'm not a believer in fate, but I do enjoy the way chance can shape our futures. My prime example is the random allocation by an unknown administrator of myself and the other people on my floor in halls last year to that particular floor. Without that chance meeting up, I would never have known them, and would not have eventually moved in with them. Itís just chance that we ended up living together and being very good friends. I love thinking about how a different tick in a different box 2 years ago would have led our lives in completely different directions.
Anyway, moving on. I rented Dawn Of The Dead from the uni library (free!) on Tuesday, since both myself and Pete are quite big zombie film fans. In that we are a fan of zombie films, not that we are zombies who happen to enjoy films. I didnít get to finish watching it, because I was on the phone to Girl, but what I saw was cool. A classic late 70s zombie film, with shotguns and terrible special effects. So bad itís good. Itís also a cult classic, and you donít get that sort of status without being a half-decent film.
Last night (Wednesday) we had a copy of Pirates Of The Caribbean in our house for some reason (a friendís, I think), so we put that on after watching the football. I hadnít seen it while it was in the cinema, which annoyed me after itíd finished, because I reckon it wouldíve been really good on a big screen, rather than our little TV.
Johnny Depp had a very funny role, and I once again fell in love with Keira Knightley. Sheís soooo pretty and lovely. And with a British accent to boot. Mmmmm, Keira Knightley.
Finally, I come to se7en. I only caught the latter stages of it, from the point where Mills and Somerset are called to the brothel for the Lust killing, but I love this film. Again, an amazing concept to write a film around, and very well executed. Brad Pitt excels in another role where I hate him because heís so cool, but like him because heís a fantastic author. Morgan Freeman also takes one of his better roles (mental note: watch Shawshank), and Kevin Spacey offers measured and evil support.
The final scene has incredible tension, and Pitt makes a good effort at showing the way in which his mind has been fucked over by John Doe. His facial expressions sometimes border on the humorous, but overall I think he gets it right. Anyway, who am I to criticise?!
That concludes my little film reviews section, at least until I watch some moreÖ
Right, Iíve had enough of writing for the moment. Iíve decided to post this as it is right now, and Iíll write the remaining 3 sections tomorrow at some point. I reckon writing over 6000 words on myself in one day is quite enough. If youíve read it all, well done. I would suggest reading one section at a time, because itís probably very overwhelming to attempt to read it all at onceÖ
Thursday, March 11
I am currently 2000 words through an absolutely epic piece that I intend to post tonight. It contains nigh-on everything of any note that has happened to me in the last 2 weeks. I know that I have neglected this blog for that period, because there has just been so much happening recently.
I felt that it was time to write these things down and to get them out of my system. There's highs, lows, and every height in-between. There's so much stuff that has happened that I wanted to comment on and just hadn't got around to doing so. Therefore, I sat and I wrote, and I will sit tonight and write further. No joking, this post could be over 5000 words in length, my life has got that interesting recently.
The items contained within it will probably surprise people, no doubt offend people, and I imagine that other people may get the wrong end of the stick about certain elements. I hope that you read it in full, because it is one of the most introspective pieces that I have written in a long while. A lot of it is raw, unimpeded emotion and thoughts spilling out onto the keyboard. I never re-read and edit something that I have written, because I feel that it is tantamount to altering your thoughts, your most personal things, in order to present a side of you, an image, that you want to portray.
Fuck that, I don't want to present an image of myself here. I want to present myself as a whole. As a splintered, fucked-up person just like everybody else who walks this Earth. The difference is that I don't give a damn that people will read this and judge me. Like me, hate me, love me: whatever. At least you know me.
Tuesday, March 9
There's an incredible amount of stuff that I want to write here, and that I should write here, but I still can't find the moment to just sit and write for a few hours. I think my conscience is guilt-tripping me over the amount of work I've got to do in order to pass this year of uni. Soooo behind in my coursework, one piece of which is due at the end of next week. I think I should start doing some reading for it.
But then, how will I fit in a social life, a Girl, sitting around on my arse, spending stupid amounts of time online not actually achieving anything, sleeping and all of the other things that make up my days.
And yes, you read right, a Girl. I will elaborate in due course. But in the meantime, Hi!
"Run for the hills everybody, there's a giant shit-cloud coming!!!" - It's still funny. Teeheehee. I'm such an Excitable Child...
Monday, March 8I am still here, and there's a hell of a lot of stuff that I've done and has happened, but for some unknown reason I'm not really in the mood to write about them. I can't say why, because I have no reall underlying justification, but I'm just not in the mood to write.
I'm sure that at some point in the next couple of days when I should be doing some work / writing an essay, I will find the inspiration to write, and that it will completely and utterly distract me from what I should be doing, but so be it. Beggars can't be choosers. And an artiste must succumb to his artistic inclinations. Ahem.
Until then, I shall leave you with these words of wisdom, from the great Bill Murray in Kingpin:
"Sometimes a bowler just has to face the music.... And that bowler is you, Roy."
Also from that film (thankyou IMDB.com):
"Run for the hills everybody, there's a giant shit-cloud coming!!!"
Praise be to the Farrelly Brothers.