I'm so horny, but that's okay; my will is good

Oh! What's this, I ask? Could it perhaps-- well, maybe-- you never know-- I mean, of all the things-- but quite possibly it might-- no! really? well, if you insist. I guess, just maybe, it might be the--
START OF CHAPTER TWO OF THE AFTERLIFE RPG [BONANZA]

Stepping around the man, Felix bent down, crouching beside him, but being careful to not touch the pooling blood. "What--?" he started. "Are you--? how--?" He shook his head, totally unsure of what to say. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on the man's arm, trying to alert him to his presence. "How did this happen to you?" he breathed.

The man continued to drag himself along the side of the road, crawling on his stomach, his clothes soaked from the blood from his wound, and from trailing in the muddy pool he was knelt in. Felix jumped back up and strode round to stand in front of the man, blocking the path he seemed to be heading along.

"Please," he said. "You need help. Can't you tell me what happened to you? Where are you wounded?" He crouched down again, but could not see into the stranger's face, for he had his head down, as though it would cause too much pain to even bring it up and see where he was going. Then, just as Felix was about to say something else to him, the man's body shook violently for a split-second, his head jerking from side to side, his torso twitching, and then his upper body crumpled, falling to the ground as his arms gave way. Bloody, muddy water splashed at Felix's ankles, and he felt it soak through his trousers, reaching his skin and chilling him to the bone; the knowledge that another man's blood was mixed in there was what haunted him.

The man was still moving - twitching mostly - but he had stopped trying to crawl his way further down the road now, and his face was buried in the mud of the path. Felix remained frozen, rooted to the spot, still crouching and staring at this pitiful creature.

Here we go creating another fable

Japan has really cool manhole covers.

I've been up since 6:30 this morning; I got up early so that I could continue with my Film Studies presentation and script. I never managed to finish it, though. I left the house at 8:06 this morning (hope you're reading this Charlotte) and upon entering school, rushed up to the Study Centre so I could print off my script, or rather what I had so far written of it. There was quite a congregation of people from my Film Studies class up there, all for the same reason as I, even though most of them weren't on the roster to present today. Elliott and I were walking to Film when we saw Andrew ahead of us, so I called to him "Andrew, how long is yours?", right across the picnic area, before realising that I should probably change it to 'how long is your presentation?'
Elliott's presentation on chroma key was first; then there was Andrew's, which was on the relationship between Hollywood and foreign films, which I found interesting, mainly because of several new things I learnt (but I've forgotten them now, damni-- oh, no, I've remembered one of them now); then was Adam's, but his overran into second period a little, so he didn't get to show any of his clips even. I'll be first on Monday, which I'm pleased about. I have no issue with doing a presentation, but I was so desperate to not do it today, seeing as my script was still incomplete. Also, going first means that I don't have to rush it like Frances and Adam did (... I'll ignore that).

Because first period overran, I was late for Philosophy and found the classroom empty, so I went up to the Study Centre to find Ru emailing Haslam to ask if she could have the rest of the day off to continue writing her synoptic essay >___<. I sat down at a group of desks where Kat and Rosie were seated and started making notes on my essay. We had break, then we returned (I had another Philosophy lesson, which is always up there anyway), continued working during that period, then Kat and I stayed for our free as well, during which Charlotte joined us and had many many difficulties with some question she was trying to answer in her Maths work. It turned out she'd got the wrong number of 'x's. So yeah, I spent three hours on my bloody synoptic essay, and somehow managed to avoid seeing Haslam about it (although she came over to me at three different points to ask how I was doing and to inform me that I could go see her when I was done with what I was doing). I should probably make sure I'm prepared to see her tomorrow, really.

It was the Matt-Nat-Scott-Rosie-Sophie lunch today, an anniversary of the one where we had a big argument about Patrick Mankins. As per usual we just played cards. Well, apart from Natalie, who was worried about her exam statement of entry.

Last period I had Editorial Writing, and we finished the practice essay we started yesterday. I had plenty of time to work on it today, considering I wrote so much yesterday, but I was still over the word count by about hundred words, 'cos I didn't know what else to cut out.

Then I walked home all on me larry, 'cos Charlotte had to go to the bank where the woman who wanted to seduce her was.

Now I'm bored because nobody's online, I can't be bothered to watch Notes on a Scandal, and Mill and Nietzsche's views on conventional morality are just not what I feel like describing, illustrating or evaluating, right now.

All you youngsters care about these days is that cake-emu

Kat has weird dreams about old grandmas complaining about the cake-emu. Admittedly I too have weird dreams, in which I'm pregnant, and Kat knows it thanks to a bloody MSN conversation we had (I really put my foot in it, but she does have some pretty darn good detectin' skills to be able to work that out several months before I go into labour). Charlotte just has sick dreams where we all die violently.

I just had to change what song iTunes was playing, because my dad came up and I don't think he would appreciate hearing sweary words, mention of sodomy and, well, the title 'Violent Pornography' says it all, really. Now he is gone.

I panicked a little during Philosophy today, but it turned out all was well. No point going into detail, but essentially, I think Haslam is cool about where I'm at with the synoptic essay. In Film, Charlotte Wright and Frenchy gave their presentations, but there wasn't time for any more, as there were technical setbacks at the beginning lesson; potentially, I might not even be fitted in on Thursday, even though I was initially supposed to be first on that day. In English, the class once again succeeded in defiling children's' literature; we analysed a short children's' story from the 1950s, which admittedly was pretty shocking to start with, but only because of the inherent sexism; the fact that the kids were rowing about in the sea in the middle of a storm, at night; the fact the young boy was barefoot for the entire story; the fact that their granddad appeared to grow younger by about twenty years; and that they set fire to the lighthouse. Okay, there are more examples of how insane it was, but those are the most shocking. All we had to do was make the young boy and his sister, Bess, incestuous; decide the grandfather was a drunk and give him a younger sailor drinking partner who became his imposter (that explained why he kept changing and where his bandage disappeared to); and turn the lighthouse into a huge cock. The moral of the story? What happens in the lighthouse stays in the lighthouse. And in case you were wondering, Greaves was - once again - completely complicit in this entire conversation, and eventually accepted Rob's suggestion that the granddad was a drunk.

Then I had frees, so Matt gave me a lift into town, dropping me off in Waitrose carpark, and I made my way to the library, where I proceeded to read book 10 of Wheel of Time for about twenty-five minutes (I found their copy of it and decided I might as well go back to reading it). I also got my mum to get out two DVDs for me; Notes on a Scandal and Where the Heart Is. Then we went for lunch at Kim's Tea Rooms, or whatever it's called.

I dilly-dallied around on the internet for a few hours, upon returning home, and then I watched Where the Heart Is. My reason for getting it out? My lovely Natalia (of the Portman variety, not Nat). She played a seventeen year old pregnant girl left by her boyfriend at Wal-Mart, where she is forced to live for six weeks, until she gives birth to her baby there, and then the film follows the next five years of her life. I was also pleased to see the always wonderful Stockard Channing, and Joan Cusack, who always seems to have amusing roles. It also starred the guy who played Paul Raines in season four of 24, who was alright, although it's his ex-wife I care more about; when my beloved Michelle died, and Nina -- well, Nina died too, but it was her betrayal that cut me deep; she didn't betray Jack, she betrayed me -- I found comfort in the development of the lovely lovely Audrey (she wears reading glasses!!), who was Paul's ex-wife. I went through the whole of Where the Heart Is wondering where the hell I'd seen the guy before.
It wasn't the most amazing movie, but it was enjoyable enough, and enchantingly feminine in some ways, and hell, I love Natalie Portman, so to see her when she was still just a lovely eighteen year old, driving the entire plot of a movie; I'm cool with that.

At dinner just now, we had our mandatory 'film and TV' chat for probably half an hour. Today we were trying to list our ten favourite films each. Mum and I didn't bother, as we knew we haven't seen enough good films to be able to compile such a list, but Alec had no issue with doing such a thing. Dad simply listened, but then that's dad.

Yay, film talk dominated this entry.
And aren't I amazing for updating? Love me.

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I lookz like Patrick Stewarts

ZOMG, Maya nabbed Luke! I feel like I should actually say something substantial here, but I cannot write spontaneous blog entries. In fact, I am hopeless at writing entries in general, but I have been told to by various people, and seeing as at least one of them is in this same room as me, I feel compelled to do so, or else I shall be seriously decked in ... like a DS Lite.
There is a very nice house in Leeds, according to the news on the TV. And the OSCARS are contrived, but then everyone should know that by now.
Today was more cardingz playing. I didn't win at all, which was annoying. I learnt that Frances was at the Music Man party on Friday and was sick in Emily Jones' bed because she had too much cider, and then she was sick again, in her mum's car (but she had a bag that time. I hope it wasn't a Tesco bag. Those just let all the sick drain out through the holes). Scott was being a clitoris.
In the words of Samwise Gamgee; "MO NAKED HOES; mash 'em, boil 'em, stick 'em in the stew."


That is all I can think to write.
Told you I was awful at crafting these things.

Why so serious?

It's not gone to print yet, but here's my article for issue three of Brown Paper.

THE DARK KNIGHT

AN IMPORTANT, AND PERHAPS UNEXPECTED, MESSAGE

You know what wouldn’t surprise me? I have this really strong feeling that a lot of people are going to see The Dark Knight, like, a million times each, this summer, simply as a result of Heath Ledger’s – admittedly very shocking and sudden – death.

For this month’s article, I was initially going to be writing about the films of 2008 that I, for one, am looking forward to, in order to give you all an idea of what films you should be intending to watch. However, I unfortunately do not control the world, and thus the unexpected occurred, and ruined my plans; if I were to totally ignore Ledger’s death and what it entails, then that would simply make me appear slow and uninformed, and then nobody would view me as a credible writer, and so – even though it now makes me look like someone who just HAS to follow the crowd, and swoon and gasp at how hunky and gorgeous he was (sorry, but I’m just not keen on him) – I have found myself unexpectedly writing about his death, in order to give you all an important message.

You see, it’s strange how events like this provoke guilt trips or an excessive sense of sympathy within people. Of course, I would be hypocritical if I were to say “don’t watch the film!”, seeing as I encouraged everyone to do pretty much the same thing in my Waitress article in issue 1, when I wrote about the death of Adrienne Shelly. I dislike Heath Ledger, true, but it would be heartless of me to try and desensitise his death, or be cynical about it. I simply think that The Dark Knight is now unarguably going to be about the Joker. Even if that’s not the film-makers’ intention, the public are going to make sure that that is the case.

Batman Returns was a great film – not just a rehash of the1990s’ entries to the franchise, but a dark retelling and an actual decent film – and many (including myself – please don’t misinterpret my standing on this film. I really do want to see it) have been looking forward to this sequel. Casting Heath Ledger as Batman’s craziest – and probably most famous – nemesis seemed like a strange choice at first, but if you’ve seen the images of him in his costume and full make-up, no doubt you’ll agree that he seems right for the part. This casting choice has thus far perhaps brought the most publicity to the film. With news of Heath Ledger’s death suddenly sucked up into a maelstrom of media, this publicity is going to get an even bigger boost. If foul play is suspected – which, at the time of writing, it is not – then The Dark Knight could potentially have money pouring in at the box office.

Simply, I urge you to see this film for the right reasons. If Christopher Nolan’s track record is anything to go by, it’s going to be a great film. Christian Bale has already succeeded in portraying Bruce Wayne and his alter-ego very well, Michael Caine is always great fun to watch, the fantastic Maggie Gyllenhaal has replied Katie Holmes as Bruce’s childhood friend, Rachel (thank God)—oh, and it’s got Gary Oldman! But yeah, seriously, don’t go to see this film because you feel guilty about the fact that a young, talented actor died way before his time. Go because you like him as an actor, because you want to celebrate his life, or simply because you know you’ll enjoy the film.

By The Duke

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