I'm not going out tonight. I know it's New Year's Eve, and everyone I know is going out somewhere, and I'd like to be out at the Market House to see in the New Year on the dancefloor. But I'm stony broke, okay not completely skint, but certainly strapped for cash. And since every pub on this night sells tickets to get in, so as to limit the queues (and rake in extra money!), and I can't afford a ticket and drinks once I got inside, I've decided to stay at home. Alone.
Both Tony and Gareth are out. I think they are both at Henry's pub, which has the finest spirit rack of any pub I've ever seen, and is up at the top end of the High Street. I hope they have a great time. I'm going to have a party of one. So I've showered and put on fresh, smart clothes (including the nice shirt that was bought me for my sisters wedding, which never went ahead, and so thus it became a Xmas present). I've dabbed on aftershave, and after a few minutes spent looking at myself in the mirror, even sorta convinced myself that I look okay.
I spent what money I had to buy a bottle of vodka, a large carton of fresh orange juice, a big bottle of lemonade, a bag of ice cubes and a tin of pineapple chunks in juice. Combined together they make a very nice fruit punch, and I have a large glass jug to do the mixing in. I also bought cheese Dorito's and hot salsa dip to dunk them in. Not sure what I will do for entertainment though, probably watch a DVD or two.
Next year I must ensure that I budget for the end of the year, so I'm not left by myself again. Whoever and whereever you are, here's wishing you a Happy New Year. I'll be hoping that 2006 will be kinder to me than 2005 has been (and that my ticket for tonights lottery wins the jackpot of course!)
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Friday, December 30, 2005
A Late Delivery
Tony got back from Cornwall a couple days earlier than we thought he would, arriving back here yesterday. today we exchanged late Xmas pressies. I gave him a great T-shirt from the store at Thinkgeek with the slogan "There are only 10 types of people in the world: Those who understand binary, and those who don't", which not only made him laugh when we were looking through the website a while back and came across it, but is also fitting, him being a computer programmer and all.
He got me a cool gadget (pun intended), a mini fridge! A very swish looking silver grey fridge, which will hold 6 soft drink cans, or 4 beer cans (I must test to see if it is tall enough for the 1 pint beer cans). I have it plugged in and it is humming away now, sat beside my computer desk, so that I will have cold refreshment close at hand... assuming I have money to fill it of course. He even thought of that, providing a couple cans of Carlsberg lager to start it off with, and they are cooling down as I type this. It can even reverse itself and warm things up instead, but I think it'll be spending most of its time keeping things cold. Thanks Tony, for what promises to be a very useful present!
He got me a cool gadget (pun intended), a mini fridge! A very swish looking silver grey fridge, which will hold 6 soft drink cans, or 4 beer cans (I must test to see if it is tall enough for the 1 pint beer cans). I have it plugged in and it is humming away now, sat beside my computer desk, so that I will have cold refreshment close at hand... assuming I have money to fill it of course. He even thought of that, providing a couple cans of Carlsberg lager to start it off with, and they are cooling down as I type this. It can even reverse itself and warm things up instead, but I think it'll be spending most of its time keeping things cold. Thanks Tony, for what promises to be a very useful present!
Seven Tears
This is a weird song, but one I am quite fond of. I'd never heard of it until about a year ago when a colleague at work brought in a CD to play on the Bakery's hi-fi (back when they were allowed one in the dept, before Morrisons took over the company). There were several songs on that disc that I quickly grew fond of, and I wasted no time in tracking them down on mp3. There is a real sense of power to the tune that accompanies these lyrics. The song itself would seem to be about someone who is apart from the one they love.
Seven Tears by The Goombay Dance Band
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant water
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Here I stand, head in hand
Lonely, like a stranger on the shore
I can't stand this feeling anymore
Day by day, this world’s all grey
And if dreams were eagles I would fly
But they ain't and that's the reason why
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant water
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Oh my darling oh my pretty lady
Golden star that leads to paradise
Like a river's running to the ocean
I'll come back to you four thousand miles
Here I stand, head in hand
Lonely, like a stranger on the shore
I can't stand this feeling anymore
Day by day, this world’s all grey
And if dreams were eagles I would fly
But they ain't and that's the reason why
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant waters
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Oh my darling oh my pretty lady
Golden star that leads to paradise
Like a river's running to the ocean
I'll come back to you four thousand miles
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant waters
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Oh my darling oh my pretty lady
Golden star that leads to paradise
Like a river's running to the ocean
I'll come back to you four thousand miles
Seven Tears by The Goombay Dance Band
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant water
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Here I stand, head in hand
Lonely, like a stranger on the shore
I can't stand this feeling anymore
Day by day, this world’s all grey
And if dreams were eagles I would fly
But they ain't and that's the reason why
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant water
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Oh my darling oh my pretty lady
Golden star that leads to paradise
Like a river's running to the ocean
I'll come back to you four thousand miles
Here I stand, head in hand
Lonely, like a stranger on the shore
I can't stand this feeling anymore
Day by day, this world’s all grey
And if dreams were eagles I would fly
But they ain't and that's the reason why
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant waters
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Oh my darling oh my pretty lady
Golden star that leads to paradise
Like a river's running to the ocean
I'll come back to you four thousand miles
Seven tears have flown into the river
Seven tears are running to the sea
If one day they reach some distant waters
Then you'll know it's sent with love from me
Oh my darling oh my pretty lady
Golden star that leads to paradise
Like a river's running to the ocean
I'll come back to you four thousand miles
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Cold Snap
I got up this morning, got ready for work, walked out the front door... and felt like I'd been slapped, it was that cold out! I wear a denim jacket lined with half a sheep worth of fleece (a Xmas present last year from my mate Jon), and I felt the cold even through that. So I walked pretty quick to work, heading through Goodland Gardens (a small park near the town centre named after a past Mayor of Taunton), and as I walked alongside the Mill Stream (so named because in Taunton's Industrial Age past, great mills sat on its banks and their waterwheels were powered by its flow), I glanced at it and thought it looked a bit odd.
I didn't think anything more of it until I got to the set of small stepped weirs at the end of the stream, where it flows down them and thence into the River Tone itself. As I neared them I could hear a sound that I couldn't identify. A crunching, cracking sound, not that loud, but at half past seven in the morning, the park was silent as a graveyard, and so it carried well enough. So I stopped, and peered over the wall and down at the first of the weirs where I reckoned the sound was coming from.
It was ice, great sheets of ice, some the size of tabletops, and most of it about an inch thick by the look and sound of it, snapping off the end of a larger sheet as the stream's slight current carried it over the weir. That was what I had noticed was odd about the stream further back, the whole stream's surface was frozen solid. I've never seen the Mill Stream freeze before. When I got into work, the front pages of the morning papers all featured news of the cold snap that had hit Britain in the night, with reports of temperatures as low as -14 Celsius in some parts of the country. My town reached about -6C or so I'm told.
There was more to come later on as snow drifted down from on high, though the ground was too wet in most places for it to settle for long. There have been estimates that this winter could break the record set in 1963 for the coldest. There was a blizzard that year. I know from the news that many parts of the country have had far worse weather than the South-West of England where I live. A few years back it was rare to see snow at all in our winters, they had gotten so mild, and even if it did snow, it would be in late January or early February, and just a light scattering of it. We've now had snow twice in the past 6 weeks, and winter has barely begun.
Memo to self: Be sure to get in plenty of food, just in case! Oh and pay the gas bill!
I didn't think anything more of it until I got to the set of small stepped weirs at the end of the stream, where it flows down them and thence into the River Tone itself. As I neared them I could hear a sound that I couldn't identify. A crunching, cracking sound, not that loud, but at half past seven in the morning, the park was silent as a graveyard, and so it carried well enough. So I stopped, and peered over the wall and down at the first of the weirs where I reckoned the sound was coming from.
It was ice, great sheets of ice, some the size of tabletops, and most of it about an inch thick by the look and sound of it, snapping off the end of a larger sheet as the stream's slight current carried it over the weir. That was what I had noticed was odd about the stream further back, the whole stream's surface was frozen solid. I've never seen the Mill Stream freeze before. When I got into work, the front pages of the morning papers all featured news of the cold snap that had hit Britain in the night, with reports of temperatures as low as -14 Celsius in some parts of the country. My town reached about -6C or so I'm told.
There was more to come later on as snow drifted down from on high, though the ground was too wet in most places for it to settle for long. There have been estimates that this winter could break the record set in 1963 for the coldest. There was a blizzard that year. I know from the news that many parts of the country have had far worse weather than the South-West of England where I live. A few years back it was rare to see snow at all in our winters, they had gotten so mild, and even if it did snow, it would be in late January or early February, and just a light scattering of it. We've now had snow twice in the past 6 weeks, and winter has barely begun.
Memo to self: Be sure to get in plenty of food, just in case! Oh and pay the gas bill!
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
The Year Of Nature's Fury
I'm a big fan of the Forgotten Realms D&D world as anyone who has read my numerous book reviews on this blog will have likely picked up by now. In that world there are numerous calendars in use, but the common people of the world don't tend to use them. Historians, scribes and scholars use dates, the common folk use what is called The Roll Of Years. This is a long list of years in which every year has a name. The current year in the campaign is 1374DR or The Year of Lightning Storms as most people know it. The names were set down centuries past by a mad seer who wrote out thousands of years worth of them in a long list. Each name suppossedly carries some portent of an event that will happen in that year.
Were we on Earth to use a similiar system I think 2005 would likely have earned the name The Year of Nature's Fury, because in the past 12 months this planet has lashed out at those who live upon it as never before. A pair of major earthquakes, resulting in two tsunami's in the area of North-West Indonesia (and affecting Indonesia itself, plus Thailand, India, Sri Lanka, Burma, the Seychelles and as far away as the African east coast!) and another quake in the Kashmir region of Pakistan, which have killed over 600,000 people, left millions homeless and devastated the region. We get big earthquakes come along now and then, not that long back one flattened a city in southern Iran, before that it was Armenia. But we have never before had three 7+ point quakes in the same year.
And it doesn't stop there. As if that weren't enough for the worlds relief agencies to cope with, we've had 15 hurricanes, two of which hit category 5. For a hurricane in a year to hit that power is rare, for a pair less than a month apart to do so is unprecedented. Hurricanes Katrina and Rita laid waste to the US southern coast, flooding the city of New Orleans and wiping Gulfport off the map, as well as devastating great swathes of the Central American & Caribbean states, the destruction of which was not as well covered on television.
In Britain we like to console ourselves that the extreme weather other countries get doesn't happen here. We sit in the middle of a tectonic plate, so when we get an earthquake, it is never higher than 3 points on the Richter scale. The worst weather we've had in my lifetime was the Hurricane back in the 80's, and I cycled home through that from school! But we've had tornados start to appear in the past few years, little ones mostly off the coast. This year we got an F2 tornado tear a 600 yard wide path of destruction through the suburbs of Brimingham over 7 miles long!
Portugal's forests burned, the Swiss capital drowned, Taiwan was lashed by Cyclones, the volcano of Mount St. Helens in the US is on red alert for an eruption, and icebergs the size of small nations are breaking off the ice shelves of Antartica. I'm not a scientist, so I can't say that this is the start of something, or that it is an aberration. But my gut feeling is that this is only the beginning. We take our planet for granted, but nature governs itself, and when there is an imbalance, it rights itself, and that process is usually violent.
All told more than half a million people lost their lives to natural disasters in the past twelve months, the highest death toll on record. Millions more have been injured, and/or have lost their homes and in many cases everything they own. If things get better, I think it will only be after they get a lot worse. I'd like to hope for 2006 to be free of the chaos and death that has marked the past year, but I think old Gaia is plenty pissed at us, and she's just getting started!
Were we on Earth to use a similiar system I think 2005 would likely have earned the name The Year of Nature's Fury, because in the past 12 months this planet has lashed out at those who live upon it as never before. A pair of major earthquakes, resulting in two tsunami's in the area of North-West Indonesia (and affecting Indonesia itself, plus Thailand, India, Sri Lanka, Burma, the Seychelles and as far away as the African east coast!) and another quake in the Kashmir region of Pakistan, which have killed over 600,000 people, left millions homeless and devastated the region. We get big earthquakes come along now and then, not that long back one flattened a city in southern Iran, before that it was Armenia. But we have never before had three 7+ point quakes in the same year.
And it doesn't stop there. As if that weren't enough for the worlds relief agencies to cope with, we've had 15 hurricanes, two of which hit category 5. For a hurricane in a year to hit that power is rare, for a pair less than a month apart to do so is unprecedented. Hurricanes Katrina and Rita laid waste to the US southern coast, flooding the city of New Orleans and wiping Gulfport off the map, as well as devastating great swathes of the Central American & Caribbean states, the destruction of which was not as well covered on television.
In Britain we like to console ourselves that the extreme weather other countries get doesn't happen here. We sit in the middle of a tectonic plate, so when we get an earthquake, it is never higher than 3 points on the Richter scale. The worst weather we've had in my lifetime was the Hurricane back in the 80's, and I cycled home through that from school! But we've had tornados start to appear in the past few years, little ones mostly off the coast. This year we got an F2 tornado tear a 600 yard wide path of destruction through the suburbs of Brimingham over 7 miles long!
Portugal's forests burned, the Swiss capital drowned, Taiwan was lashed by Cyclones, the volcano of Mount St. Helens in the US is on red alert for an eruption, and icebergs the size of small nations are breaking off the ice shelves of Antartica. I'm not a scientist, so I can't say that this is the start of something, or that it is an aberration. But my gut feeling is that this is only the beginning. We take our planet for granted, but nature governs itself, and when there is an imbalance, it rights itself, and that process is usually violent.
All told more than half a million people lost their lives to natural disasters in the past twelve months, the highest death toll on record. Millions more have been injured, and/or have lost their homes and in many cases everything they own. If things get better, I think it will only be after they get a lot worse. I'd like to hope for 2006 to be free of the chaos and death that has marked the past year, but I think old Gaia is plenty pissed at us, and she's just getting started!
Monday, December 26, 2005
All Wrapped Up
So another Xmas has come and while not quite gone yet, it is on its way. I am back in my house now, though right at this moment I'm alone here, as it seems Gareth did stay over his parents house last night and has yet to return. As for Tony he went to his Mum's place in Cornwall back on Tuesday. Won't see him now till New Year's Eve. The mess the pair of them left their rooms in though is frankly appalling!
I've had a good Xmas, though it was slightly marred by a mild headache that was with me from when I woke yesterday, until the early hours of this morning, when I finally went to bed. I could have done without that. I didn't eat too much, or drink too much. I had a Xmas of moderation this year and I feel a bit better for that. It was a good lunch (Though granted I'm horribly biased, I have always loved my Mum's cooking, always will), Turkey with all the trimmings. First time we'd had a turkey in a few years, so it was a good change (and it made for great cold meat sandwiches for lunch today too!), finished off with Xmas Pud.
Watched some movies on DVD (Madagascar, Fantastic Four and Kingdom of Heaven), and a fair bit of festive TV including the Xmas Special of Doctor Who, which was great fun. Certainly wasn't going to miss that, and it lived up to the hype. Roll on the next series in the spring! In fact we pretty much stuck with BBC1 for the day, what with watching the special editions of My Family (funny if weird), Doctor Who, The Green Green Grass (fun, but a very predictable plot), Eastenders (not my choice, but the parents wanted to watch it), and The Two Ronnies Christmas Sketchbook (hilarious in places, tinged with sadness in that there won't be another).
My main Xmas pressie this year was a very snazzy IT Works 3045 digital camera, with which I'm gonna have all kinds of fun, just as soon as I get a memory card for it (daft thing didn't come supplied with one. A bit of an oversight there by the manufacturers I think). Still, it meant I could return my parents camera, which I've had on extended loan for most of the past year. I use the camera both for pics on the blog, as well as for my ebay auctions, which I plan on resuming in January. I've still got tonnes of comics, old books and toys to get rid of, and I can use the money from the sales to pay money off my credit card.
So what else did I get? I got the usual kinda things (though thankfully no socks!), such as deodorant, shower gel, a tube of Skittles (not eaten any of those in years, so that was very different), a new belt (which I was in dire need of, as the old one is horribly twisted and frayed), a blue bathrobe which looks very snug, Doritos and Dip!, and a couple DVD's: Fantastic Four off my Nan, and Batman Begins from my Grandparents. Ohh also got a new Forgotten Realms novel off my brother, and a Discworld hardback off Mum & Dad (both of which will be reviewed here once I've read them).
Got two nice factual books as well, both about inventions, and who made what and when. Fascinating reading. I pretty much always get a large factual book from my parents each year (last year it was The Times Atlas of World History, which is a book large and heavy enough to club a whale to death with!). Other previous "big fact books" have included Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Encyclopedia of Space, and History of Slavery.
I've had a good Xmas, though it was slightly marred by a mild headache that was with me from when I woke yesterday, until the early hours of this morning, when I finally went to bed. I could have done without that. I didn't eat too much, or drink too much. I had a Xmas of moderation this year and I feel a bit better for that. It was a good lunch (Though granted I'm horribly biased, I have always loved my Mum's cooking, always will), Turkey with all the trimmings. First time we'd had a turkey in a few years, so it was a good change (and it made for great cold meat sandwiches for lunch today too!), finished off with Xmas Pud.
Watched some movies on DVD (Madagascar, Fantastic Four and Kingdom of Heaven), and a fair bit of festive TV including the Xmas Special of Doctor Who, which was great fun. Certainly wasn't going to miss that, and it lived up to the hype. Roll on the next series in the spring! In fact we pretty much stuck with BBC1 for the day, what with watching the special editions of My Family (funny if weird), Doctor Who, The Green Green Grass (fun, but a very predictable plot), Eastenders (not my choice, but the parents wanted to watch it), and The Two Ronnies Christmas Sketchbook (hilarious in places, tinged with sadness in that there won't be another).
My main Xmas pressie this year was a very snazzy IT Works 3045 digital camera, with which I'm gonna have all kinds of fun, just as soon as I get a memory card for it (daft thing didn't come supplied with one. A bit of an oversight there by the manufacturers I think). Still, it meant I could return my parents camera, which I've had on extended loan for most of the past year. I use the camera both for pics on the blog, as well as for my ebay auctions, which I plan on resuming in January. I've still got tonnes of comics, old books and toys to get rid of, and I can use the money from the sales to pay money off my credit card.
So what else did I get? I got the usual kinda things (though thankfully no socks!), such as deodorant, shower gel, a tube of Skittles (not eaten any of those in years, so that was very different), a new belt (which I was in dire need of, as the old one is horribly twisted and frayed), a blue bathrobe which looks very snug, Doritos and Dip!, and a couple DVD's: Fantastic Four off my Nan, and Batman Begins from my Grandparents. Ohh also got a new Forgotten Realms novel off my brother, and a Discworld hardback off Mum & Dad (both of which will be reviewed here once I've read them).
Got two nice factual books as well, both about inventions, and who made what and when. Fascinating reading. I pretty much always get a large factual book from my parents each year (last year it was The Times Atlas of World History, which is a book large and heavy enough to club a whale to death with!). Other previous "big fact books" have included Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Encyclopedia of Space, and History of Slavery.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Lonely This Christmas
This is arguably the most depressing Christmas song of the lot, it makes me miserable just reading the lyrics, let alone listening to the song itself. But I've saved this song for Xmas Day itself, because while I will be with my family today (well some of them), I would trade that for a day spent with a girlfriend in a heartbeat. This will be my 29th Xmas with my family, maybe next year I can celebrate the 30th one with a partner. I'll be with people I love and who love me today, and yet the hopeless romantic in me is going to be terribly lonely all day long. While I hate hearing this song, it is the one Xmas song that truly represents me.
Lonely This Christmas by Mud
Try to imagine a house that's not a home
Try to imagine a Christmas all alone
That's where I'll be
Since you left me
My tears would melt the snow
What can I do
Without you
I've got no place, no place to go
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Without you to hold
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Lonely and cold
It'll be cold, so cold
Without you to hold
This Christmas
Each time I remember the day you went away
And how I would listen to things you have to say
I just break down, as I look around
And the only things I see
Are emptiness and loneliness
And an unlit Christmas Tree
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Without you to hold
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Lonely and cold
It'll be cold, so cold
Without you to hold
This Christmas
You remember last year, when you and I were together
We never thought there'd be an end
And I remember looking at you then
And I remember thinking that Christmas must have been made for us
Cause darlin' this is the time that you really need love
When it means so very very much
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Without you to hold
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Lonely and cold
It'll be cold, so cold
Without you to hold
This Christmas
Merry christmas darlin', wherever you are.
Lonely This Christmas by Mud
Try to imagine a house that's not a home
Try to imagine a Christmas all alone
That's where I'll be
Since you left me
My tears would melt the snow
What can I do
Without you
I've got no place, no place to go
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Without you to hold
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Lonely and cold
It'll be cold, so cold
Without you to hold
This Christmas
Each time I remember the day you went away
And how I would listen to things you have to say
I just break down, as I look around
And the only things I see
Are emptiness and loneliness
And an unlit Christmas Tree
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Without you to hold
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Lonely and cold
It'll be cold, so cold
Without you to hold
This Christmas
You remember last year, when you and I were together
We never thought there'd be an end
And I remember looking at you then
And I remember thinking that Christmas must have been made for us
Cause darlin' this is the time that you really need love
When it means so very very much
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Without you to hold
It'll be lonely this Christmas
Lonely and cold
It'll be cold, so cold
Without you to hold
This Christmas
Merry christmas darlin', wherever you are.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
An Alternative Night Before Christmas
And just so my posts today aren't all sentimental and schmaltzy, here's an alternative version of the classic Christmas poem that I found on the net. It just cracks me up!
'Twas The Night Before Christmas by Anonymous
'Twas the night before Christmas--Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!
I've busted my ass for damn near a year,
Instead of "Thanks Santa"--what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those Pests from the Tax Office sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?
And the kids these days--they all are the pits
They want the impossible--Those mean little shits
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots... they think I'm IBM!
Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.
There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a Redhead. I'm going SOUTH for the season
'Twas The Night Before Christmas by Anonymous
'Twas the night before Christmas--Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!
I've busted my ass for damn near a year,
Instead of "Thanks Santa"--what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those Pests from the Tax Office sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?
And the kids these days--they all are the pits
They want the impossible--Those mean little shits
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots... they think I'm IBM!
Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment.
There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a Redhead. I'm going SOUTH for the season
Twas The Night Before Christmas
On the 23rd December 1823, a poem was published anonymously in The Sentinel newspaper in New York that was to capture the imagination of a planet, and become part of popular folklore. The authors name was Clement Clarke Moore (he admitted to writing it a decade later), and in this one poem, he defined the image of Santa Claus, which has remained almost unchanged ever since, with only his colours changing (from green to red & white) due to the influence of the Coca-Cola company. It is one of my very favourite poems, so I present it here in its entirety:
Twas The Night Before Christmas (or A Visit From St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the courses they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Twas The Night Before Christmas (or A Visit From St. Nicholas) by Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the courses they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Friday, December 23, 2005
A Semi-Drunken Rambling
Ahhh the only thing better than finishing a litre of beer... is starting another litre of beer! Kudos to the Iceland store who have 1 litre Stella Artois bottles on offer at 2 for £5. I just watched the Extended DVD version of The Two Towers with a pair of these beauties, and had drink left over at the end! Huzzah!!
This has been a semi-drunk announcement. We now return you to your regular blog reading!
This has been a semi-drunk announcement. We now return you to your regular blog reading!
One Day To Go
I have bought all my Xmas presents now. Mum's was the last to get, but finally got that one after work today (finished at 3:30pm). Not wrapped any of them as yet, but I have paper and I'm pretty sure there's a roll of sellotape lurking around here somewhere, so I'll go and dig that out in a bit and get wrapping. I have one more shift to work tomorrow, from 8am-5pm and then I'm done until 10am on Wednesday.
Speaking of work... was great today when the Admin department pretty much stunned our boss Mark O'Brien. We'd all clubbed together to get him a present, and we ended up getting him 4! It was the first time I have ever seen him lost for words. Priceless moment! He said he felt a bit guilty as all he'd gotten us was a 2.2kg tin of Cadbury's Heroes chocs to share. Not that any of us were complaining. Those are damn good chocs!
Just taken a shower, so I feel all shiny and clean. In the fridge are a couple litre bottles of Stella Artois nicely chilling down, ready for a bit later on. Tomorrow after work I'm gonna come back here and get changed, pack a few things, and then head over my parents house for a couple days. I'll be back in the bachelor house on Boxing Day (Dec 26th). I've got posts pre-written for Xmas Eve and Xmas Day so I'll likely post all of those tomorrow (I can post ahead of the current date using blogger, a pretty neat feature), and then resume my normal ramblings when I'm back in my den.
Right now though, I have a muchly loved relative to phone, and I've forgotten to phone her far too many times recently, so I'm doing it now. Have a Happy Xmas folks, and I'll see you on the flip side!
Speaking of work... was great today when the Admin department pretty much stunned our boss Mark O'Brien. We'd all clubbed together to get him a present, and we ended up getting him 4! It was the first time I have ever seen him lost for words. Priceless moment! He said he felt a bit guilty as all he'd gotten us was a 2.2kg tin of Cadbury's Heroes chocs to share. Not that any of us were complaining. Those are damn good chocs!
Just taken a shower, so I feel all shiny and clean. In the fridge are a couple litre bottles of Stella Artois nicely chilling down, ready for a bit later on. Tomorrow after work I'm gonna come back here and get changed, pack a few things, and then head over my parents house for a couple days. I'll be back in the bachelor house on Boxing Day (Dec 26th). I've got posts pre-written for Xmas Eve and Xmas Day so I'll likely post all of those tomorrow (I can post ahead of the current date using blogger, a pretty neat feature), and then resume my normal ramblings when I'm back in my den.
Right now though, I have a muchly loved relative to phone, and I've forgotten to phone her far too many times recently, so I'm doing it now. Have a Happy Xmas folks, and I'll see you on the flip side!
Fairy Tale In New York
I do like this song, it sounds like no other song I know. Starting off quiet and building in speed and energy. The singers voices perfectly compliment each other, with their Irish-American tones. Reading the lyrics you can see that it is clearly a song about loss and broken dreams, and yet the whole song is shot through with a tune that is anything but, the music to me anyway, conveys hope more than anything else. Ohh and in case you're getting sick of the Xmas song lyrics, there's just one more song to go.
Fairy Tale In New York by Ronan Keating & Marie Brennan
It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me,
Won't see another one
And then he sang a song
'The Rare Old Mountain Dew'
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you
Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our
Dreams come true
They've got cars
Big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes
Right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first
Took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was
Waiting for me
You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks
They were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas Day
You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old
Slut on junk
Lying there almost
Dead on a drip
In that bed
You scum bag
You maggot
You're cheap and you're haggard
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God
It's our last
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas Day
I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams
From me when
I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams
Around you
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas Day
Fairy Tale In New York by Ronan Keating & Marie Brennan
It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me,
Won't see another one
And then he sang a song
'The Rare Old Mountain Dew'
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you
Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our
Dreams come true
They've got cars
Big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes
Right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first
Took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was
Waiting for me
You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks
They were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas Day
You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old
Slut on junk
Lying there almost
Dead on a drip
In that bed
You scum bag
You maggot
You're cheap and you're haggard
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God
It's our last
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas Day
I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams
From me when
I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams
Around you
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas Day
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Somebody Just Died Outside
For the past hour or so I've been stood in my bay window, looking out over the activity in the street outside. There's been a traffic accident you see, and someone has died. The police have now sealed off the road, and the various witnesses to the event have been taken to the Police Station (four doors down to the right), to give statements.
I didn't see the event itself, but from what I can tell from looking at the aftermath and hearing snippets of conversations between the police officers and the witnesses, an old man had a heart attack at the wheel, veered across the road into uncoming traffic, and clipped a car, before careening back into the lane outside my front door, where it ploughed into the pavement and ended up perched atop a large floral display tub that is fixed into the ground there.
I started watching just after this, as the noise from outside drew my attention. I saw the police come running from their station. I saw them haul the driver out of the car and perform CPR. I saw them fail to revive him after a few minutes of trying. When the ambulance arrived, they put the body on a stretcher and put it into the back and left it alone. It was a minute or so before they closed the doors on the back of the vehicle. I've never seen a dead body before, it is quite a humbling experience.
Right now the police outside are going over every inch of the road, taking down notes on their clipboards, while others around the perimeter redirect the traffic (both cars and pedestrians). I am somewhat surprised that no-one has knocked on our door wanting to take a statement from me, as I've been very visible in the window watching over the proceedings. Still as I didn't see the accident itself, then my testimony would be of no value.
I didn't see the event itself, but from what I can tell from looking at the aftermath and hearing snippets of conversations between the police officers and the witnesses, an old man had a heart attack at the wheel, veered across the road into uncoming traffic, and clipped a car, before careening back into the lane outside my front door, where it ploughed into the pavement and ended up perched atop a large floral display tub that is fixed into the ground there.
I started watching just after this, as the noise from outside drew my attention. I saw the police come running from their station. I saw them haul the driver out of the car and perform CPR. I saw them fail to revive him after a few minutes of trying. When the ambulance arrived, they put the body on a stretcher and put it into the back and left it alone. It was a minute or so before they closed the doors on the back of the vehicle. I've never seen a dead body before, it is quite a humbling experience.
Right now the police outside are going over every inch of the road, taking down notes on their clipboards, while others around the perimeter redirect the traffic (both cars and pedestrians). I am somewhat surprised that no-one has knocked on our door wanting to take a statement from me, as I've been very visible in the window watching over the proceedings. Still as I didn't see the accident itself, then my testimony would be of no value.
Merry Christmas
There are two Xmas songs that stand head and shoulders above the rest (in my humble opinion), the first is I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday by Wizzard, the other is this song by Slade. I like this song, not as much as Wizzard's one, but it has a cheerfully upbeat energy to it. Certainly my Dad usually insists on a bit of Slade on Xmas Day morning. The TV is rarely on, but the hi-fi will be playing a CD of suitably Xmas themed tunes.
Merry Christmas by Slade
Are you hanging up your stocking on your wall?
It's the time that every Santa has a ball
Does he ride a red nosed reindeer
Does he turn up on his sleigh
Do the faeries keep him sober for a day
So here it is merry christmas
Everybodies having fun
Look to the future now
It's only just begun
Are you waiting for your family to arrive
Are you sure you've got the room to spare inside
Does your granny always tell you
That the old songs are the best
And shes up and rock 'n' rolling with the rest
So here it is merry christmas
Everybodies having fun
Look to the future now
It's only just begun
What will your daddy do when he sees your momma kissing Santa Claus? Ahaaa
Are you hanging up your stocking on your wall
Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall
Do you ride on down the hillside
In a boggy you have made
When you land upon your head
Then you will say
So here it is merry christmas
Everybodies having fun
Look to the future now
It's only just begun
(Repeat chorus X4)
Merry Christmas by Slade
Are you hanging up your stocking on your wall?
It's the time that every Santa has a ball
Does he ride a red nosed reindeer
Does he turn up on his sleigh
Do the faeries keep him sober for a day
So here it is merry christmas
Everybodies having fun
Look to the future now
It's only just begun
Are you waiting for your family to arrive
Are you sure you've got the room to spare inside
Does your granny always tell you
That the old songs are the best
And shes up and rock 'n' rolling with the rest
So here it is merry christmas
Everybodies having fun
Look to the future now
It's only just begun
What will your daddy do when he sees your momma kissing Santa Claus? Ahaaa
Are you hanging up your stocking on your wall
Are you hoping that the snow will start to fall
Do you ride on down the hillside
In a boggy you have made
When you land upon your head
Then you will say
So here it is merry christmas
Everybodies having fun
Look to the future now
It's only just begun
(Repeat chorus X4)
Ill Again
I can remember a time not so long ago when I hardly ever got ill. Sure I'd get the sniffles, or a cough but it was never serious and I could continue working through it. The cold would be gone in a couple days. My only regular worry was headaches. Not so nowadays, when bugs seem to be getting past my immune system all the time.
Take this current one. I finished work last night at 9pm and was fine. By the time I got home I felt cold, so I wrapped up in my dressing gown. Didn't help at all. By 11pm I was shuddering uncontrollably, teeth were chattering together and I felt cold through to the bone. So I went to bed, I have a 13 tog quilt on my bed, and I snuggled up under that. All the while trembling nonstop. I couldn't get to sleep, and about an hour later I had to get up very suddenly and dash to the loo to be sick.
I've been back and forth ever since, all last night and this morning. Both vomiting and diarrhea. Right now I feel utterly hollow. I'm not eating anything today. Past experience of this sort of bug has taught me that the best way to kill it is to starve it out, so all I'm taking today is water, both to fill my stomach (and thus stop me from going mad with hunger), and to flush my body through. Combined with the ache from the top of my mouth, I'm not in a good way. Took the day off work, which I can't really afford to do. I just hope I'm feeling better for the weekend.
Take this current one. I finished work last night at 9pm and was fine. By the time I got home I felt cold, so I wrapped up in my dressing gown. Didn't help at all. By 11pm I was shuddering uncontrollably, teeth were chattering together and I felt cold through to the bone. So I went to bed, I have a 13 tog quilt on my bed, and I snuggled up under that. All the while trembling nonstop. I couldn't get to sleep, and about an hour later I had to get up very suddenly and dash to the loo to be sick.
I've been back and forth ever since, all last night and this morning. Both vomiting and diarrhea. Right now I feel utterly hollow. I'm not eating anything today. Past experience of this sort of bug has taught me that the best way to kill it is to starve it out, so all I'm taking today is water, both to fill my stomach (and thus stop me from going mad with hunger), and to flush my body through. Combined with the ache from the top of my mouth, I'm not in a good way. Took the day off work, which I can't really afford to do. I just hope I'm feeling better for the weekend.
Monday, December 19, 2005
A Relaxing Weekend
Short of being on holiday, I can't remember the last time I have had a weekend as laid back as this one has been. I had Friday off work, and there was no D&D for me to run that night either, so that was a good start. Granted I had to work Saturday, but my shift didn't start until 12 noon, heck I was still in bed at 10:30am that day. And the shift was easy, Saturday closedown is always quiet. Well from about 6pm once all the stock counts have been taped onto the system it is anyway.
And then I've had yesterday and today off work also. So I've stayed up late (very late, like going to bed at 5am late!), and watched a couple movies (Madagascar and The Scorpion King), as well as a lot of episodes of The West Wing, and well that's about it really, not had the money to do anything else what with going to see King Kong on Friday and then going out that night too. In fact my weekend would be just about perfectly relaxing if it weren't for the top of my mouth. Allow me to explain.
I stayed in bed late on Saturday, and so hadn't eaten anything by the time it was time to get ready for work. So I figured I'd get to work a bit early and grab a quick lunch in the canteen before starting my shift on time. So that's what I did. I got there 15 mins early, and bought myself pie and chips. Hindsight is 20/20 or so it is said, and boy do I get that now. They start serving lunches at noon in our canteen, so all the food in the cabinet is literally just out of the ovens (especially 15 mins beforehand). Including the pies!
I shovelled up a mouthful of pie, didn't think to blow on it to cool it, and popped it into my mouth... where it promptly seared the entire top of my mouth. It is still very painful now a couple days later. I can't eat anything spicy or too hot, the same goes for drink (luckily I like cold coffee, so I'm not denied that pleasure). Every now and then a layer of what I presume is skin peels off it, so it is healing up, albeit slower than I'd like. Memo to self: Always blow on food to cool it.
And then I've had yesterday and today off work also. So I've stayed up late (very late, like going to bed at 5am late!), and watched a couple movies (Madagascar and The Scorpion King), as well as a lot of episodes of The West Wing, and well that's about it really, not had the money to do anything else what with going to see King Kong on Friday and then going out that night too. In fact my weekend would be just about perfectly relaxing if it weren't for the top of my mouth. Allow me to explain.
I stayed in bed late on Saturday, and so hadn't eaten anything by the time it was time to get ready for work. So I figured I'd get to work a bit early and grab a quick lunch in the canteen before starting my shift on time. So that's what I did. I got there 15 mins early, and bought myself pie and chips. Hindsight is 20/20 or so it is said, and boy do I get that now. They start serving lunches at noon in our canteen, so all the food in the cabinet is literally just out of the ovens (especially 15 mins beforehand). Including the pies!
I shovelled up a mouthful of pie, didn't think to blow on it to cool it, and popped it into my mouth... where it promptly seared the entire top of my mouth. It is still very painful now a couple days later. I can't eat anything spicy or too hot, the same goes for drink (luckily I like cold coffee, so I'm not denied that pleasure). Every now and then a layer of what I presume is skin peels off it, so it is healing up, albeit slower than I'd like. Memo to self: Always blow on food to cool it.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Feeding Time
Another excerpt from the novel Dancer of Gor by John Norman. This is from the start of Chapter 5, and is set some time after Doreen Williamson has arrived on Gor, she having been trained as a pleasure slave. This except details how the girls are fed. Enjoy.
"Eat!" said the man. My face was thrust down, into the trough, half into the moist gruel. His hand was in my hair. I feared for a moment I might suffocate. I pressed my face down into the gruel. I opened my mouth. With my teeth and lips, and tongue, desperately scraping, scooping, pulling, licking, biting, pushing down, moving my head, I tried to get as much into my mouth as I could. My head was then pulled up, and held back, by the hair. I swallowed what I had in my mouth. It was not easy to swallow it. I knelt before a wooden feeding trough, with other girls. The man crouched beside me. My eyes were closed. Gruel was upon my face and in my hair. He then threw my head forward again, over the wooden rim of the trough, and pushed my face down again, deeply, submerging it, to the ears, in the gruel. Again I struggled to get as much as I could into my mouth. Then his hand left my hair and I lifted my head from the moist substance. I blinked, gruel upon my face, its particles like wet, unmelting snow on my eyelashes. He had gone further down the line. I struggled to swallow what I had in my mouth. I pulled a little, weakly, at the light, lovely manacles which confined my wrists behind my back. I looked at the other girls, to my right. They, too, were similarly manacled. We were not yet permitted to use our hands in feeding. I looked to my left, and made certain that the man was not watching. I then bent down and tried to wipe my closed eyes and face on the wooden edge of the trough. He was not treating everyone as he had treated me. I had received special attentions in this matter. That had to do with something which had happened earlier. I looked to the girl to my right, a blonde. She put her head down, again, to the trough, her wrists linked behind her, like mine, in those lovely feminine confinements, little more than two lock rings and a tiny span of gleaming chain. We were all naked. It was easy to tell, however, which of us were virgins, for the virgins, like myself, wore the "iron belt." Its horizontal portion, like an iron oval, would close about my waist, and the vertical portion, like a "U", hinged in front to the horizontal portion, flattened, shaped and slotted at its center, would swing up between my legs and there it flattened, laterally slotted end, like a hasp, would be placed over the staple on the left side, already over this staple, and secured there, behind my back, with a heavy, dangling padlock. There was little danger I would be penetrated while wearing this device. The girl to my right did not wear it. She had already been "opened for the uses of men," as it is said here. She was thus free, of course, for the uses of the guards, who did not fail to avail themselves of their privileges. Once she had been dragged forth from her kennel, down several from mine, to the right, and they, so eager were they, such men, to have her, that they had not even seen fit to wait until they had pulled her on her leash to their own quarters. I pretended not to watch. But later, after they were finished, and had returned her to her own kennel, and I was alone, I wept, so aroused I was. I did not know if she were from Earth, and if so, from what part of it, or if she were of this world. We are almost never permitted to speak during the feeding period. When she had been used before my kennel she had been under "gag law," as is common when the guards use a girl, forbidden speech, save for moans and whimpers. I had understood many of the commands given to her, of course. I had begun to learn this language. I looked at her. It was possible she was of this world. Men here, I had learned, were every bit as ready, and as prompt, to put their own females to their purposes as the females of Earth. Our origins made no difference in these matters. What was important was what we had in common, our sex, simply that we were females. To be sure, the girls here from this world regarded themselves as immeasurably superior to us, those of Earth, and perhaps the men did, too, in some sense, but, as far as I could tell, that made their chains no lighter, nor the blows they received any the less severe. Some men, of course, many men even, seemed to find women of Earth of special interest, and treated them with particular harshness. Teibar, who had captured me, I think, was such a man. Others, however, seemed to prefer visiting these abuses on the women of their own world. Others, which made sense to me, seemed to think in terms of the individual woman. I think it would be true, however, to say that generally, aside from people’s opinions as to the proper sort of treatment for us, we did not have the same "standing" as the women of this world. More often than they, for example, we would be put in earrings, which here is regarded, interestingly enough, as an almost consummate degradation of a woman. similarly, another indication of our status here is that, occasionally, one of our names, an Earth-girl name, would be bestowed on a girl of this world, as a punishment, usually a temporary one, indicating that she was now to be regarded as one of the lowest of the low. I had now been branded, a small, graceful mark burned into my left thigh, high, under the hip. It had a vertical bar, a rather strict one, with two curling, frondlike extensions, rather near its base, as though in submission to it. It looked a little like a "K." That was mine. There were variations on this theme. Some of the other girls had similar brands, but, in one respect or another, somewhat different. There were other sorts of brands, too, but the "K-type" brand was the most common. Most of these brands, of whatever sort, were on the left thigh, as mine was, near the hip. On my neck, also, there was now a flat, narrow steel collar. It was close-fitting. I could not remove it. It was locked there. It was not uncomfortable. I seldom even though about it, but it was there.
I looked to my left. The fellow who had thrust my face into the gruel was looking in my direction. Quickly I put my face back into the trough, thrusting it into the moist gruel. Feeding time was almost over. I did not care for the gruel much, as it was tasteless and flat. I ate it, however, as it was incumbent upon me to do so. Too, I was hungry, and it was undeniably nourishing. It, like other aspects of our diet, the fruits and vegetables, and the cylindrical pellets we were given, seemed intended to slim our bodies and bring us to a peak state of health. The gruel was appropriate enough for us, I supposed. It was clearly a form of animal feed.
I sneaked a look to my left, and, frightened, saw that the man was coming in my direction. Swiftly I thrust my face back into the trough and addressed myself to the gruel. I sensed he would now be behind me. I ate quickly, and well. I then heard the gong sound, which signified the end of the feeding period. Immediately I withdrew my head from the trough and knelt back on my heels, my back straight, looking straight ahead. When the gong sounds the girl stops eating immediately, and assumes this position. Obedience is to be instantaneous.
I heard the man moving away. Yes, he had been behind me. I breathed more easily.
I was now eating quite well. They did not have any more trouble with me on that score, not now.
A week ago I had, not because I wanted to starve, or die, as some of the Earth girls in my group had proclaimed hysterically in their own cases, and not even because I was trying to be difficult, really, I had refused to eat. I had done this, I think, as an experiment, as much as anything else. I had wondered what they would do. Too, I think I was trying to find out the limitations within which I was functioning, what I might be able to do, and might not be able to do. I wanted to know the nature and extent, and the existence or nonexistence, of the discipline to which I might be liable. I wanted to know something about the boundaries of my world. I was trying to find out where the fences were, the location of the walls. I found out. There had been seven of us involved in this matter. Our leader was a short, plump blonde who had been a political columnist for a small suburban newspaper on the northeast coast of the United States. She had been a political-science major in college. We were taken immediately in hand, all seven of us. Three of us, our leader and her two chief cohorts, were immediately kenneled, publicly, in the feeding area. The rest of us were tied on low "perches," also in the feeding area, at one wall, platforms fitted with "T" beams, a ring in the back of the "T" beam. Such things are often found in such houses, like rings and posts, commonly being used for purposes of display and discipline. Our ankles were put in leather shackles, behind the vertical post. Our arms were hooked over the horizontal post and fastened in front of us with straps and leather manacles, which buckled shut. Our heads were then pulled back and , by our hair tied about the ring behind the post, held painfully in this position. Narrow tubes were then brought, with plungers. These, to our dismay and discomfort, and horror, were thrust down our throats to our stomach. These tubes were inserted through heavy leather balls put in our mouths. We could not close our mouths or bite on the tubes because of these obstructions. Food was then forced into our stomachs. The tubes were then withdrawn. We could not rid ourselves of the food, even had we wished to do so. Our hands were secured. We looked at one another. Some of the girls had tears of helpless frustration in their eyes. If the men chose not to permit it, they could not even starve themselves. In my eyes, however, I think, was something less like helpless rage and defeat than reassurance, wonder and respect. I was pleased to learn, terrible though it may sound, how strong these men were, and how, with them, I was totally helpless. None of us requested a second demonstration of their power. We went quickly enough to the trough after that.
"Eat!" said the man. My face was thrust down, into the trough, half into the moist gruel. His hand was in my hair. I feared for a moment I might suffocate. I pressed my face down into the gruel. I opened my mouth. With my teeth and lips, and tongue, desperately scraping, scooping, pulling, licking, biting, pushing down, moving my head, I tried to get as much into my mouth as I could. My head was then pulled up, and held back, by the hair. I swallowed what I had in my mouth. It was not easy to swallow it. I knelt before a wooden feeding trough, with other girls. The man crouched beside me. My eyes were closed. Gruel was upon my face and in my hair. He then threw my head forward again, over the wooden rim of the trough, and pushed my face down again, deeply, submerging it, to the ears, in the gruel. Again I struggled to get as much as I could into my mouth. Then his hand left my hair and I lifted my head from the moist substance. I blinked, gruel upon my face, its particles like wet, unmelting snow on my eyelashes. He had gone further down the line. I struggled to swallow what I had in my mouth. I pulled a little, weakly, at the light, lovely manacles which confined my wrists behind my back. I looked at the other girls, to my right. They, too, were similarly manacled. We were not yet permitted to use our hands in feeding. I looked to my left, and made certain that the man was not watching. I then bent down and tried to wipe my closed eyes and face on the wooden edge of the trough. He was not treating everyone as he had treated me. I had received special attentions in this matter. That had to do with something which had happened earlier. I looked to the girl to my right, a blonde. She put her head down, again, to the trough, her wrists linked behind her, like mine, in those lovely feminine confinements, little more than two lock rings and a tiny span of gleaming chain. We were all naked. It was easy to tell, however, which of us were virgins, for the virgins, like myself, wore the "iron belt." Its horizontal portion, like an iron oval, would close about my waist, and the vertical portion, like a "U", hinged in front to the horizontal portion, flattened, shaped and slotted at its center, would swing up between my legs and there it flattened, laterally slotted end, like a hasp, would be placed over the staple on the left side, already over this staple, and secured there, behind my back, with a heavy, dangling padlock. There was little danger I would be penetrated while wearing this device. The girl to my right did not wear it. She had already been "opened for the uses of men," as it is said here. She was thus free, of course, for the uses of the guards, who did not fail to avail themselves of their privileges. Once she had been dragged forth from her kennel, down several from mine, to the right, and they, so eager were they, such men, to have her, that they had not even seen fit to wait until they had pulled her on her leash to their own quarters. I pretended not to watch. But later, after they were finished, and had returned her to her own kennel, and I was alone, I wept, so aroused I was. I did not know if she were from Earth, and if so, from what part of it, or if she were of this world. We are almost never permitted to speak during the feeding period. When she had been used before my kennel she had been under "gag law," as is common when the guards use a girl, forbidden speech, save for moans and whimpers. I had understood many of the commands given to her, of course. I had begun to learn this language. I looked at her. It was possible she was of this world. Men here, I had learned, were every bit as ready, and as prompt, to put their own females to their purposes as the females of Earth. Our origins made no difference in these matters. What was important was what we had in common, our sex, simply that we were females. To be sure, the girls here from this world regarded themselves as immeasurably superior to us, those of Earth, and perhaps the men did, too, in some sense, but, as far as I could tell, that made their chains no lighter, nor the blows they received any the less severe. Some men, of course, many men even, seemed to find women of Earth of special interest, and treated them with particular harshness. Teibar, who had captured me, I think, was such a man. Others, however, seemed to prefer visiting these abuses on the women of their own world. Others, which made sense to me, seemed to think in terms of the individual woman. I think it would be true, however, to say that generally, aside from people’s opinions as to the proper sort of treatment for us, we did not have the same "standing" as the women of this world. More often than they, for example, we would be put in earrings, which here is regarded, interestingly enough, as an almost consummate degradation of a woman. similarly, another indication of our status here is that, occasionally, one of our names, an Earth-girl name, would be bestowed on a girl of this world, as a punishment, usually a temporary one, indicating that she was now to be regarded as one of the lowest of the low. I had now been branded, a small, graceful mark burned into my left thigh, high, under the hip. It had a vertical bar, a rather strict one, with two curling, frondlike extensions, rather near its base, as though in submission to it. It looked a little like a "K." That was mine. There were variations on this theme. Some of the other girls had similar brands, but, in one respect or another, somewhat different. There were other sorts of brands, too, but the "K-type" brand was the most common. Most of these brands, of whatever sort, were on the left thigh, as mine was, near the hip. On my neck, also, there was now a flat, narrow steel collar. It was close-fitting. I could not remove it. It was locked there. It was not uncomfortable. I seldom even though about it, but it was there.
I looked to my left. The fellow who had thrust my face into the gruel was looking in my direction. Quickly I put my face back into the trough, thrusting it into the moist gruel. Feeding time was almost over. I did not care for the gruel much, as it was tasteless and flat. I ate it, however, as it was incumbent upon me to do so. Too, I was hungry, and it was undeniably nourishing. It, like other aspects of our diet, the fruits and vegetables, and the cylindrical pellets we were given, seemed intended to slim our bodies and bring us to a peak state of health. The gruel was appropriate enough for us, I supposed. It was clearly a form of animal feed.
I sneaked a look to my left, and, frightened, saw that the man was coming in my direction. Swiftly I thrust my face back into the trough and addressed myself to the gruel. I sensed he would now be behind me. I ate quickly, and well. I then heard the gong sound, which signified the end of the feeding period. Immediately I withdrew my head from the trough and knelt back on my heels, my back straight, looking straight ahead. When the gong sounds the girl stops eating immediately, and assumes this position. Obedience is to be instantaneous.
I heard the man moving away. Yes, he had been behind me. I breathed more easily.
I was now eating quite well. They did not have any more trouble with me on that score, not now.
A week ago I had, not because I wanted to starve, or die, as some of the Earth girls in my group had proclaimed hysterically in their own cases, and not even because I was trying to be difficult, really, I had refused to eat. I had done this, I think, as an experiment, as much as anything else. I had wondered what they would do. Too, I think I was trying to find out the limitations within which I was functioning, what I might be able to do, and might not be able to do. I wanted to know the nature and extent, and the existence or nonexistence, of the discipline to which I might be liable. I wanted to know something about the boundaries of my world. I was trying to find out where the fences were, the location of the walls. I found out. There had been seven of us involved in this matter. Our leader was a short, plump blonde who had been a political columnist for a small suburban newspaper on the northeast coast of the United States. She had been a political-science major in college. We were taken immediately in hand, all seven of us. Three of us, our leader and her two chief cohorts, were immediately kenneled, publicly, in the feeding area. The rest of us were tied on low "perches," also in the feeding area, at one wall, platforms fitted with "T" beams, a ring in the back of the "T" beam. Such things are often found in such houses, like rings and posts, commonly being used for purposes of display and discipline. Our ankles were put in leather shackles, behind the vertical post. Our arms were hooked over the horizontal post and fastened in front of us with straps and leather manacles, which buckled shut. Our heads were then pulled back and , by our hair tied about the ring behind the post, held painfully in this position. Narrow tubes were then brought, with plungers. These, to our dismay and discomfort, and horror, were thrust down our throats to our stomach. These tubes were inserted through heavy leather balls put in our mouths. We could not close our mouths or bite on the tubes because of these obstructions. Food was then forced into our stomachs. The tubes were then withdrawn. We could not rid ourselves of the food, even had we wished to do so. Our hands were secured. We looked at one another. Some of the girls had tears of helpless frustration in their eyes. If the men chose not to permit it, they could not even starve themselves. In my eyes, however, I think, was something less like helpless rage and defeat than reassurance, wonder and respect. I was pleased to learn, terrible though it may sound, how strong these men were, and how, with them, I was totally helpless. None of us requested a second demonstration of their power. We went quickly enough to the trough after that.
Queen Of The Depths: A Book Review
Another book finished, so on with the review. Queen Of The Depths by Richard Lee Byers is a Forgotten Realms novel, and the fourth book in a quartet called The Priests. Each book in the small series focuses on a servant of one of the worlds many gods, in this case the deity venerated is Umberleee, the savage, capricious goddess of the seas, who is more feared than venerated. Dubbed The Bitch Queen by those who dwell above the waves, this stories central character is Tu'ala'keth, a shalarin priestess. The shalarin being a race of undersea dwellers, looking much like humans but much more slender, and with webbed feet and hands, as well as crest running down their back.
Tu'ala'keth is a priestess with a problem, no-one is visiting her temple, the offerings draped on the altars are all old, the shalarin people's faith having drifted to other deities of the oceans, most of whom are far less cruel than Umberlee. To compound the problem, the shalarin (and the rest of the ndersea races), are faced with a monstrous threat, a large force of draconic creatures driven mad by The Rage, an affliction which affects dragonkind every now and then, causing them to group together and attack everything in their path (think Football Hooligans on a drunken rampage and you get the general idea).
So she sets out into the wider ocean, away from her temple, to try and hear the call of her goddess, wanting to know her will. It is there that she encounters Anton Marivaldi, drifting on flotsam and close to death. She rescues him after watching him fight off an octopus, a sacred animal of her faith, convinced that he has been sent to aid her. After explaining that he is a spy for the government of a nation called Turmish, and has been tasked with finding a secret base of the villainous Cult of the Dragon, a group of madmen convinced that undead dragons will rule the world someday, and who are working to make it sooner rather than later.
Seeing that the Cult would have information on the raging dragons and how to stop them, and realising that if she can stop the tide of dragons, then the people will have to worship her goddess again, Tu'ala'keth teams up with Anton to find and stop the Cult. The pair bicker over many things, but especially over her unwavering belief that everything is Umberlee's will. As Anton is not a worshipper of the savage goddess himself (he venerates the Red Knight, a goddess of strategy and tactics), the pair are often at odds over this. But they do work well together regardless.
The book is written by the same author who is writing the Year of Rogue Dragons trilogy for the Forgotten Realms, and has written this book as a nice way of showing what else is going on in the world in that year, aside from what the main characters of his trilogy are going through. It is a very well written book, and it gets a solid 5/5 from me. I'd enjoy seeing more books set against the backdrop of that years terrible events, like this one is. For my part as my current D&D campaign is set at around this time (the characters having already seen one group of dragons raging, and currently in a city under attack by another large force of dragons doing the same), this book is a godsend of ideas for running some adventures amidst the Pirate Isles, where the book is set in and around (and where the party would be passing by soon enough anyway).
Tu'ala'keth is a priestess with a problem, no-one is visiting her temple, the offerings draped on the altars are all old, the shalarin people's faith having drifted to other deities of the oceans, most of whom are far less cruel than Umberlee. To compound the problem, the shalarin (and the rest of the ndersea races), are faced with a monstrous threat, a large force of draconic creatures driven mad by The Rage, an affliction which affects dragonkind every now and then, causing them to group together and attack everything in their path (think Football Hooligans on a drunken rampage and you get the general idea).
So she sets out into the wider ocean, away from her temple, to try and hear the call of her goddess, wanting to know her will. It is there that she encounters Anton Marivaldi, drifting on flotsam and close to death. She rescues him after watching him fight off an octopus, a sacred animal of her faith, convinced that he has been sent to aid her. After explaining that he is a spy for the government of a nation called Turmish, and has been tasked with finding a secret base of the villainous Cult of the Dragon, a group of madmen convinced that undead dragons will rule the world someday, and who are working to make it sooner rather than later.
Seeing that the Cult would have information on the raging dragons and how to stop them, and realising that if she can stop the tide of dragons, then the people will have to worship her goddess again, Tu'ala'keth teams up with Anton to find and stop the Cult. The pair bicker over many things, but especially over her unwavering belief that everything is Umberlee's will. As Anton is not a worshipper of the savage goddess himself (he venerates the Red Knight, a goddess of strategy and tactics), the pair are often at odds over this. But they do work well together regardless.
The book is written by the same author who is writing the Year of Rogue Dragons trilogy for the Forgotten Realms, and has written this book as a nice way of showing what else is going on in the world in that year, aside from what the main characters of his trilogy are going through. It is a very well written book, and it gets a solid 5/5 from me. I'd enjoy seeing more books set against the backdrop of that years terrible events, like this one is. For my part as my current D&D campaign is set at around this time (the characters having already seen one group of dragons raging, and currently in a city under attack by another large force of dragons doing the same), this book is a godsend of ideas for running some adventures amidst the Pirate Isles, where the book is set in and around (and where the party would be passing by soon enough anyway).
Saturday, December 17, 2005
A Pattern Is Emerging
I go out. I get mildly drunk. I dance a bit. Nothing else happens. I come home miserable and feeling more alone than ever. Why do I do this to myself every fucking week? I even tell myself that "This week I'll give it a miss", and yet guaranteed I'll still go out and repeat the same sad, pathetic routine. I'm writing this now, hating myself for having done this again, but I already know that I'll be out next week.
I think part of it is optimism, that one time I'll go out and it won't be that way, and unless I keep going out, then that one time ain't going to happen. But is it worth it? Can anything be worth this much depression? I'm sat here with the curtains open on my bay window, watching others go home hand in hand, couples young and old. I want that. Some part of me deeply craves what those people have, that level of companionship, and of love.
I've been told before that "it'll happen when you least expect it" and "that you won't find it by looking for it" and a hundred other such tidbits of dubious advice. I spent years heeding them, staying out of the limelight, keeping to myself. I got really good at not being noticed, as a result. But I don't think I can do that anymore, I can't just sit here and wait for something to happen, because I've been doing that for years already, and nothing has happened. I'm a patient man, but everyone has their limits. If I don't go out, if I don't go and seek what I want, then I don't think I'll ever find it, and I have zero faith that it will ever find me.
I think it is time I looked at trying another venue, as the Market House while it plays good music, does not seem to be doing me any favours. I'm not sure where else to try though. I've never been in Dellar's Wharf and Que Pasa is overpriced and well... shit! I think next week I'll give Yates' and Remedies a try. I used to like both of those pubs, maybe I should try them again, see if they have improved.
I think part of it is optimism, that one time I'll go out and it won't be that way, and unless I keep going out, then that one time ain't going to happen. But is it worth it? Can anything be worth this much depression? I'm sat here with the curtains open on my bay window, watching others go home hand in hand, couples young and old. I want that. Some part of me deeply craves what those people have, that level of companionship, and of love.
I've been told before that "it'll happen when you least expect it" and "that you won't find it by looking for it" and a hundred other such tidbits of dubious advice. I spent years heeding them, staying out of the limelight, keeping to myself. I got really good at not being noticed, as a result. But I don't think I can do that anymore, I can't just sit here and wait for something to happen, because I've been doing that for years already, and nothing has happened. I'm a patient man, but everyone has their limits. If I don't go out, if I don't go and seek what I want, then I don't think I'll ever find it, and I have zero faith that it will ever find me.
I think it is time I looked at trying another venue, as the Market House while it plays good music, does not seem to be doing me any favours. I'm not sure where else to try though. I've never been in Dellar's Wharf and Que Pasa is overpriced and well... shit! I think next week I'll give Yates' and Remedies a try. I used to like both of those pubs, maybe I should try them again, see if they have improved.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Jingle Bell Rock
I love the Muppets, especially the older ones from the original TV show and the first movie. Children's Tv these days has nothing that compares to the Muppet Show. A good thing then that it can be bought on DVD (Must get those!). While Swedish Chef has always been my overall favourite Muppet, I am very fond of Dr. Teeth and his crazy band The Electric Mayhem (comprising Floyd and Janice on guitars, Zoot on saxophone and especially the insane drummer Animal). This rendition of Jingle Bell Rock is from the Muppet Christmas Special in which the gang head to Fozzie's mum's farmhouse for the holiday. Here they are joined by both the Sesame Street cast and the Fraggles too! The song starts off with Kermit and his nephew Robin, singing a cutesy version of Jingle Bells, until they get interrupted by the loud guitars, drums and saxophone of the band's far better version!
Jingle Bell Rock by Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem
(Kermit and Robin)
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Ohh what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh
(The Electric Mayhem)
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun
Jingle bell, jingle bell
Jingle bell rock (Yeah!)
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time (Ohh)
Dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square (Square!)
In the frosty air
What a bright time
It's the right time
To rock the night away (Away!)
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go gliding in a one-horse sleigh
Giddy-up jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet
That's the jingle bell rock
Go Zoot!
So giddy-up jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jingling beat
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell rock
(Animal)
Dat the jingle bell rock!
Ahhh... Thank You.
Jingle Bell Rock by Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem
(Kermit and Robin)
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Ohh what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh
(The Electric Mayhem)
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun
Jingle bell, jingle bell
Jingle bell rock (Yeah!)
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time (Ohh)
Dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square (Square!)
In the frosty air
What a bright time
It's the right time
To rock the night away (Away!)
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go gliding in a one-horse sleigh
Giddy-up jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet
That's the jingle bell rock
Go Zoot!
So giddy-up jingle horse
Pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jingling beat
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell rock
(Animal)
Dat the jingle bell rock!
Ahhh... Thank You.
King Kong: A Movie Review
Okay to start this off I feel that it is important to state that I hate King Kong. Not this movie, no no, I mean the original 1933 black and white version. I've watched it a couple times and I think it is crap. It is held up to be this amazing film, and I honestly cannot understand why. That said, I do like the remake of it that was made in the 70's, as while it was a mess of a film, it was at least in colour. I detest black and white as a medium, the world isn't monochromatic, so making a film or taking a photograph that is, to me robs that image of any semblance of reality. It pushes my suspension of belief past breaking point.
I was stoked to watch this film though, from the moment I heard that it was going to be made. You see, I've read the book of King Kong, and the story is dynamite. And it was being made by Peter Jackson, who has already proved with his Lord of the Rings trilogy, that he is a director who can bring books to life on the big screen in spectacular fashion. And of course it would be in colour! I had the day off work today, and had pegged today as Kong Day for the past couple weeks. So I walked to the cinema (a trip of about 2 miles) to see the 3pm showing, as it wouldn't be too busy, and since I had to walk back home afterwards, I wanted the showing to be reasonably early.
I got there in plenty of time, watched the adverts and the trailers (including the awesome teaser for Superman Returns), and then sat and watched 3 hours of one of the best films I've ever seen. I had some doubts going in, most of which revolved around Jack Black, a man I regard as being utterly talentless. His music (if you can call the noise that Tenacious D produces that) is terrible and in the couple films he's been in that I've seen, he was easily the worst thing in them. He is still the worst thing in this film. His character is Carl Denham, a desperate movie maker who carries people with him on his doomed expedition, through lies and hollow promises. Which wouldn't be a problem, only Black's portrayal of him is completely unconvincing. He has zero charisma and it baffles me why the other characters on the ship go along with him.
Naomi Watts though is just stunning in this, perfectly cast as the object of Kong's affections, her Ann Darrow is a vision. I will have to see what other films she is in, because she is superb in this. Also she spends a good chunk of the film in a silk nightie which is very easy on the eyes!
Adrian Brody is great as Jack Driscoll the playwright who get stuck on the ship, when it leaves port (to escape the police who are after Denham), and who falls for Ann on the voyage (she being a huge fan of his plays, the attraction is mutual). I loved seeing him typing in his cage (not enough cabins, so he has to bunk down in one of the animal cages in the hold... sharing space with a huge supply of chloroform! He risks everything to rescue Ann from the jungles.
The other characters are well done, everyone gets their moment to shine, from the various members of the motley crew of the Venture (the ship Denham hires to take them to Skull Island), especially the Captain who quickly figures out that Denham is up to no good to the lead actor in the film Denham is shooting, who papers his cabin with posters of his big action films, yet he himself is a coward. Brilliant!
The SFX are top notch, which is hardly surprising since they are done by WETA, who have replaced ILM as the best effects studio in recent years with the successes of the Rings trilogy, Narnia and now Kong too. The big ape is very believable, really, truly well done, and it will be a crime if this movie doesn't take the Oscar for visual effects. Being a complete aracnophobe, the sequence in the "Bug Canyon" genuinely made me cringe, as the fight between Kong and a trio of T-Rexes had me shifting in my chair, as though I could dodge the snapping jaws and raking talons that filled the screen.
King Kong gets a solid 5/5 from me, as even with the abysmal presence of Jack Black, he thankfully can't ruin the film (though annoyingly he does get the last line). I'll be getting this one on DVD when it comes out for sure, and hopefully there's extra footage lying around somewhere that they can use to make a Director's Cut version, as while the film is long, it is beautiful, and thus for me at least, not quite long enough.
I was stoked to watch this film though, from the moment I heard that it was going to be made. You see, I've read the book of King Kong, and the story is dynamite. And it was being made by Peter Jackson, who has already proved with his Lord of the Rings trilogy, that he is a director who can bring books to life on the big screen in spectacular fashion. And of course it would be in colour! I had the day off work today, and had pegged today as Kong Day for the past couple weeks. So I walked to the cinema (a trip of about 2 miles) to see the 3pm showing, as it wouldn't be too busy, and since I had to walk back home afterwards, I wanted the showing to be reasonably early.
I got there in plenty of time, watched the adverts and the trailers (including the awesome teaser for Superman Returns), and then sat and watched 3 hours of one of the best films I've ever seen. I had some doubts going in, most of which revolved around Jack Black, a man I regard as being utterly talentless. His music (if you can call the noise that Tenacious D produces that) is terrible and in the couple films he's been in that I've seen, he was easily the worst thing in them. He is still the worst thing in this film. His character is Carl Denham, a desperate movie maker who carries people with him on his doomed expedition, through lies and hollow promises. Which wouldn't be a problem, only Black's portrayal of him is completely unconvincing. He has zero charisma and it baffles me why the other characters on the ship go along with him.
Naomi Watts though is just stunning in this, perfectly cast as the object of Kong's affections, her Ann Darrow is a vision. I will have to see what other films she is in, because she is superb in this. Also she spends a good chunk of the film in a silk nightie which is very easy on the eyes!
Adrian Brody is great as Jack Driscoll the playwright who get stuck on the ship, when it leaves port (to escape the police who are after Denham), and who falls for Ann on the voyage (she being a huge fan of his plays, the attraction is mutual). I loved seeing him typing in his cage (not enough cabins, so he has to bunk down in one of the animal cages in the hold... sharing space with a huge supply of chloroform! He risks everything to rescue Ann from the jungles.
The other characters are well done, everyone gets their moment to shine, from the various members of the motley crew of the Venture (the ship Denham hires to take them to Skull Island), especially the Captain who quickly figures out that Denham is up to no good to the lead actor in the film Denham is shooting, who papers his cabin with posters of his big action films, yet he himself is a coward. Brilliant!
The SFX are top notch, which is hardly surprising since they are done by WETA, who have replaced ILM as the best effects studio in recent years with the successes of the Rings trilogy, Narnia and now Kong too. The big ape is very believable, really, truly well done, and it will be a crime if this movie doesn't take the Oscar for visual effects. Being a complete aracnophobe, the sequence in the "Bug Canyon" genuinely made me cringe, as the fight between Kong and a trio of T-Rexes had me shifting in my chair, as though I could dodge the snapping jaws and raking talons that filled the screen.
King Kong gets a solid 5/5 from me, as even with the abysmal presence of Jack Black, he thankfully can't ruin the film (though annoyingly he does get the last line). I'll be getting this one on DVD when it comes out for sure, and hopefully there's extra footage lying around somewhere that they can use to make a Director's Cut version, as while the film is long, it is beautiful, and thus for me at least, not quite long enough.
Old Tapes
I was going to put on my Winamp this evening when I thought I'd listen too something a bit different than my usual mp3's instead. So I brought my portable stereo into my room (it normally lives in the kitchen), and dug out my old tapes. These are compilations of songs that I taped off the radio and other cassettes back in my youth. I have a half dozen or so of these and I've been taking a trip down memory lane listening to some of these songs.
To be sure, a lot of them I have on mp3, my musical tastes haven't changed that much over the years, I liked those songs growing up, I like them now just as much. But even the songs I have on mp3 sound really different on cassette. And then there are songs I haven't heard in a decade or more, some of which after hearing them again I am profoundly glad that I've not heard them in ages, others though that I'll likely download on mp3, such as Fool For Love by Belinda Carlisle, Stand Up For Your Love Rights by Yazz, and Hanky Panky by Madonna.
It has been quite an experience hearing these old tunes again, and I'm glad I held onto these tapes now, as they were going to go in the bin a few years ago, during a clear out of my stuff.
To be sure, a lot of them I have on mp3, my musical tastes haven't changed that much over the years, I liked those songs growing up, I like them now just as much. But even the songs I have on mp3 sound really different on cassette. And then there are songs I haven't heard in a decade or more, some of which after hearing them again I am profoundly glad that I've not heard them in ages, others though that I'll likely download on mp3, such as Fool For Love by Belinda Carlisle, Stand Up For Your Love Rights by Yazz, and Hanky Panky by Madonna.
It has been quite an experience hearing these old tunes again, and I'm glad I held onto these tapes now, as they were going to go in the bin a few years ago, during a clear out of my stuff.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
The End Of The Beginning
Today the people of Iraq turned out in record numbers to vote for their first democratically elected permanent parliament. They have voted before to put an interim government in power and to authenticate a national constitution. But today they took part in a genuine General Election. Even the Sunni's who had boycotted previous votes, and who are the backbone behind the violence and unrest plaguing the country turned out for this vote. Try as they might to derail the process of democracy, no amount of violence has deterred it, or slowed it.
I'm a supporter of what Britain and the United States have done in Iraq. Yes we went to war for the wrong reason. Everyone knows that. We supposedly went to war to prevent Saddam's regime from creating and deploying Weapons of Mass Destruction, which as it has turned out they likely never had. So our military intelligence was wrong. It happens. What the critics of the war seem to conviniently ignore is that we liberated a country the size of France, with a population of more than 30 million people from one of the most brutal tyrannies of modern times.
We took on a larger military force, that outnumbered our own in terms of troops and vehicles, and we defeated it, and we did it at a cost of less than a 1000 Allied lives. It is a high price to pay yes, but a small price compared to what that sacrifice achieved. The invasion was the easy part, the rebuilding, the "war for peace" so to speak, has proven far harder. Barely a day goes by without news of some bomb, kidnapping, suicide attack or beheading being carried out in Iraq, and the body count seems to never stop rising. I have huge respect for the people of that country who still went out to vote when called upon to do so. Even knowing that some fanatic could blow himself up, and them with him while they queued to vote, they still went out and queued. I'm not sure I could do that.
It will take a week or two for the results of the polls to be counted and authenticated, and for the outcome to be known. That is for then, but today I have hope that a truly democratic, modern Iraq can emerge from the voting today. This isn't the end, it's not even the beginning of the end, that day is still a way off, but this is I think, the end of the beginning.
I'm a supporter of what Britain and the United States have done in Iraq. Yes we went to war for the wrong reason. Everyone knows that. We supposedly went to war to prevent Saddam's regime from creating and deploying Weapons of Mass Destruction, which as it has turned out they likely never had. So our military intelligence was wrong. It happens. What the critics of the war seem to conviniently ignore is that we liberated a country the size of France, with a population of more than 30 million people from one of the most brutal tyrannies of modern times.
We took on a larger military force, that outnumbered our own in terms of troops and vehicles, and we defeated it, and we did it at a cost of less than a 1000 Allied lives. It is a high price to pay yes, but a small price compared to what that sacrifice achieved. The invasion was the easy part, the rebuilding, the "war for peace" so to speak, has proven far harder. Barely a day goes by without news of some bomb, kidnapping, suicide attack or beheading being carried out in Iraq, and the body count seems to never stop rising. I have huge respect for the people of that country who still went out to vote when called upon to do so. Even knowing that some fanatic could blow himself up, and them with him while they queued to vote, they still went out and queued. I'm not sure I could do that.
It will take a week or two for the results of the polls to be counted and authenticated, and for the outcome to be known. That is for then, but today I have hope that a truly democratic, modern Iraq can emerge from the voting today. This isn't the end, it's not even the beginning of the end, that day is still a way off, but this is I think, the end of the beginning.
I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday
When it comes down to Xmas music there are two songs that stand head and shoulders above the others, this is one of them. A lively crazy song with the band backed by a youth choir, giving it a sound like nothing else. It is wildly cheerful, kinda silly and easy to sing-a-long with and I love it. I don't agree with its message though, I wouldn't want Christmas to be everyday. Once a year is enough, as if it were everyday it would be routine, and not special. And that I think would be a shame.
I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday by Roy Wood & Wizzard
Are you ready children? (yes! yes! yes!)
When the snowman brings the snow
Well he just might like to know
He's put a great big smile, on somebody's face
If you jump into your bed
Quickly cover up your head
Don't you lock the doors
You know that sweet Santa Claus in on the way
Well I wish it could be Christmas, every day
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play
Oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
Let the bells ring out for Christmas
When we're skating in the park
If the snow cloud makes it dark
Then your rosy cheek's gonna light my merry way
Now the frosty paws appear
And they've frozen up my ear
So we'll lie by the fire
'til the sleet simply knocks 'em all away
Well I wish it could be Christmas, every day
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play
Oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
So let the bells ring out for Christmas
When the snowman brings the snow (when the snowman brings the snow)
Well he just might like to know (well he just might like to know)
He's put a great big smile on somebody's face
So if Santa brings that sleigh (Santa brings that sleigh)
All along the Milky Way (along the Milky Way)
I'll sign my name on the rroftop in the snow
Then he may decide to stay
Well I wish it could be Christmas, every day
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play
Oo-oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
So let the bells ring out for Christmas
Okay you lot - take it!
Well, I wish it could be Christmas, every day (Christmas day)
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play (Oh-oh)
Oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
Let the bells ring out for Christmas
Why don't you give your love for Christmas?
(when the snowman brings the snow)
Repeat to fade...
I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday by Roy Wood & Wizzard
Are you ready children? (yes! yes! yes!)
When the snowman brings the snow
Well he just might like to know
He's put a great big smile, on somebody's face
If you jump into your bed
Quickly cover up your head
Don't you lock the doors
You know that sweet Santa Claus in on the way
Well I wish it could be Christmas, every day
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play
Oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
Let the bells ring out for Christmas
When we're skating in the park
If the snow cloud makes it dark
Then your rosy cheek's gonna light my merry way
Now the frosty paws appear
And they've frozen up my ear
So we'll lie by the fire
'til the sleet simply knocks 'em all away
Well I wish it could be Christmas, every day
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play
Oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
So let the bells ring out for Christmas
When the snowman brings the snow (when the snowman brings the snow)
Well he just might like to know (well he just might like to know)
He's put a great big smile on somebody's face
So if Santa brings that sleigh (Santa brings that sleigh)
All along the Milky Way (along the Milky Way)
I'll sign my name on the rroftop in the snow
Then he may decide to stay
Well I wish it could be Christmas, every day
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play
Oo-oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
So let the bells ring out for Christmas
Okay you lot - take it!
Well, I wish it could be Christmas, every day (Christmas day)
When the kids start singing and the band begins to play (Oh-oh)
Oh, I wish it could be Christmas, every day
Let the bells ring out for Christmas
Why don't you give your love for Christmas?
(when the snowman brings the snow)
Repeat to fade...
Please Make It Stop!!
Ever since my place of work converted from a Safeway supermarket to a Morrisons supermarket back in February, I've had to listen to the piped music over the stores tannoy system. Now this isn't such a bad thing, they play a lot of music I like such as 80's stuff. Granted they play a fair amount of music I don't like so much too, but quite a few songs on the regular play list have struck a chord with me and I've ended up buying the mp3 of that tune online.
Everybody knew that come this time of year the piped music was going to feature Xmas songs. Now I like a fair few Xmas songs, and some of them have been playing now and then. But one song is driving me slowly insane. The culprit is "I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus", which I think is by the Jackson Five, or a solo effort by a young Micheal Jackson. I HATE this song with a passion. The tune is whiny, the lyrics are terrible (and very repetitive, which to me is just lazy songwriting), and the kid singing it has a voice so high it sounds like he has been castrated.
The tannoy system is playing this song several times a day (in a 10:30am-6:30pm shift today, I counted it being played 6 times!), and I shudder every time I hear it. If anyone reading this has a time machine (as unlikely as that is), do me and the human race a favour would you? Go back and shoot the kid who sung this musical atrocity before it was recorded!
Everybody knew that come this time of year the piped music was going to feature Xmas songs. Now I like a fair few Xmas songs, and some of them have been playing now and then. But one song is driving me slowly insane. The culprit is "I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus", which I think is by the Jackson Five, or a solo effort by a young Micheal Jackson. I HATE this song with a passion. The tune is whiny, the lyrics are terrible (and very repetitive, which to me is just lazy songwriting), and the kid singing it has a voice so high it sounds like he has been castrated.
The tannoy system is playing this song several times a day (in a 10:30am-6:30pm shift today, I counted it being played 6 times!), and I shudder every time I hear it. If anyone reading this has a time machine (as unlikely as that is), do me and the human race a favour would you? Go back and shoot the kid who sung this musical atrocity before it was recorded!
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
The Big Scan
So Trading Standards visited our store last week. And they did what they always do, get a trolley and go round the store, filling it up, and then take it to the tills. And then they compared the prices they noted on the shelf edges, to what they paid... and they found one error. Just one price that was higher at the till than advertised on the shelf edge. Now if this was any other customer they would go to the Customer Service Desk, point this out and we'd issue a refund for the difference and a sincere apology to them. The Admin dept would be notified and we would speedily print out a new ticket with the correct price, and get it onto the shelf edge. No harm, no foul, no hassle.
Only this wasn't any customer, this was Trading Standards, and so they made a report about us. And that report landed on the desk of our stores regional director. And he decided that our store had "issues", and so ordered an audit. So what this means is that someone from another store is going to come to ours, and try to catch us out in the same way Trading Standards did. We know they are coming, we have a few days warning of this. And we know who is coming, because she used to work in our store, so she is going to be well motivated to claim our scalp if she can do so.
So for the past few days we have been scanning every item in the store, and comparing the price on the shelf edge, to that on the computer system. That's EVERY item in the store... all 30,000 of them!! All because of 1 price error! To say this is a tedious process is a gross understatement, it has taken pretty much the whole Admin dept (minus one person manning the office itself), the past 3 days to do this, and there is still work to do tomorrow to finish the great task. Still it will be worth it if we have managed to stymie our auditor finding anything wrong.
Only this wasn't any customer, this was Trading Standards, and so they made a report about us. And that report landed on the desk of our stores regional director. And he decided that our store had "issues", and so ordered an audit. So what this means is that someone from another store is going to come to ours, and try to catch us out in the same way Trading Standards did. We know they are coming, we have a few days warning of this. And we know who is coming, because she used to work in our store, so she is going to be well motivated to claim our scalp if she can do so.
So for the past few days we have been scanning every item in the store, and comparing the price on the shelf edge, to that on the computer system. That's EVERY item in the store... all 30,000 of them!! All because of 1 price error! To say this is a tedious process is a gross understatement, it has taken pretty much the whole Admin dept (minus one person manning the office itself), the past 3 days to do this, and there is still work to do tomorrow to finish the great task. Still it will be worth it if we have managed to stymie our auditor finding anything wrong.
Monday, December 12, 2005
All I Want For Christmas Is You
I love this song, and by that I mean everything about it. The way it starts out quiet, and then with a thunderous drumroll breaks into a lively pop tune. The way it blends an almost gospel style of singing with pop music, and a tune that is utterly infectious. It is the one song by Mariah Carey that I actually like, I find her other stuff to be far too soppy to be honest. This song though showcases her impressive vocal talents, without being too sentimental and sickly sweet. It also made for a great scene in the movie Love Actually, when it was sung by the object of the boys affections, he having learned to play drums so he could impress her.
All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true...
All I want for Christmas is
You... yeah yeah
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
(and I) Don't care about presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you...
You baby
Oh I won't ask for much this Christmas
I won't even wish for snow
(and I) I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeer click
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby all I want for Christmas is you
You baby
All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere (so brightly yeah)
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
And everyone is singing (oh yeah)
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need -
won't you please bring my baby to me...
Oh I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Oh I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby all I want for Christmas is
You (You) baby (yeah) (yeah) (yeah)
All I want for Christmas is you baby... (repeat)
All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true...
All I want for Christmas is
You... yeah yeah
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
(and I) Don't care about presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you...
You baby
Oh I won't ask for much this Christmas
I won't even wish for snow
(and I) I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeer click
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby all I want for Christmas is you
You baby
All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere (so brightly yeah)
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
And everyone is singing (oh yeah)
I hear those sleigh bells ringing
Santa won't you bring me the one I really need -
won't you please bring my baby to me...
Oh I don't want a lot for Christmas
This is all I'm asking for
I just want to see my baby
Standing right outside my door
Oh I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby all I want for Christmas is
You (You) baby (yeah) (yeah) (yeah)
All I want for Christmas is you baby... (repeat)
Ahhh That's Better
My hair is once again shaved short, my scalp can breathe and no longer suffocate under an unruly mop of hair. I hate my hair, I really do. I like the colour of it, but that is about the only characteristic of it that I do like. It feels awful, even just after washing and conditioning it it feels dry and lifeless to me. I grew it long when I was in college ohh many moons ago, and wore it with a bandana headband (actually a long strip of grey material made by my Mum out of the leg of a pair of school trousers there due to be binned), wound twice round my head and then tied at the back. I have a photo of what I looked like back then (No I'm not posting it here, I'd have to be drunk to do that, and right now I'm stone cold sober) somewhere, and gawd I wince when I see what I looked like back then.
Having my hair short also flatters me a little, in that it mostly conceals the couple patches on the top of my head where I am beginning to go bald. Yeah, I'm not even 30 yet (35 days and counting down until that happens), and I'm already going bald. This is my Dad's fault, well his DNA anyway, though my Mum would likely insist that "these things skip a generation, and therefore it's my fathers fault".
Another thing I hate about my hair is that at the back of my head, in a band between my ears, the hair there grows in the opposite direction. that is to say that it grows upwards, towards the top of my head. Naturally since the rest of my hair grows downwards towards my shoulders, this results in an area where my hair gets knotted very easily, and as I found out when I did have it long, these knots can be very painful to have to tug out with a comb each morning. I think I look better with very short hair, and since I started University in October 1996, this has been the way I prefer to look (though I initially had my hair shaved to save money on shampoo while I was a student).
Did a bit of shopping in the supermarket where I work on the way home from the Barber's, including getting my Dad's Xmas present, so that I just have Mum's left to buy now (if she can ever remember what it is that she wants!). Hopefully I can get that one bought on the weekend and bring my present shopping to a close with a week to go, which would be nice as the last couple years I've had at least a present still to get on Xmas Eve itself.
Having my hair short also flatters me a little, in that it mostly conceals the couple patches on the top of my head where I am beginning to go bald. Yeah, I'm not even 30 yet (35 days and counting down until that happens), and I'm already going bald. This is my Dad's fault, well his DNA anyway, though my Mum would likely insist that "these things skip a generation, and therefore it's my fathers fault".
Another thing I hate about my hair is that at the back of my head, in a band between my ears, the hair there grows in the opposite direction. that is to say that it grows upwards, towards the top of my head. Naturally since the rest of my hair grows downwards towards my shoulders, this results in an area where my hair gets knotted very easily, and as I found out when I did have it long, these knots can be very painful to have to tug out with a comb each morning. I think I look better with very short hair, and since I started University in October 1996, this has been the way I prefer to look (though I initially had my hair shaved to save money on shampoo while I was a student).
Did a bit of shopping in the supermarket where I work on the way home from the Barber's, including getting my Dad's Xmas present, so that I just have Mum's left to buy now (if she can ever remember what it is that she wants!). Hopefully I can get that one bought on the weekend and bring my present shopping to a close with a week to go, which would be nice as the last couple years I've had at least a present still to get on Xmas Eve itself.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Master Of Chains: A Book Review
I finished reading this book in work today during my lunch hour, and so on with the review while it is still fresh in my mind. Master Of Chains by Jess Lebow is a Forgotten Realms novel, and the first in a set of 4 novels, the set being titled The Fighters. Each novel in the quartet features one central warrior type character with an unusual fighting style. In the case of this book, that character is Ryder, a freedom fighter in the oppressed Barony of Ahlarkhem, part of the Kingdom of Erlkazar.
To be honest I was surprised to see a novel set in this corner of the Realms, as Erlkazar has always been scarcely detailed, so that people wanting to run a D&D campaign in the Realms would have a part of the continent to "make their own", with only the very bare minimum of details provided about that area. Clearly that policy has undergone some change recently. I'm not going to be able to review this without some major spoilers, so if you intend on reading this novel, stop reading this post now.
This is a very confusing book, as there isn't any clear hero. Ryder I suppose, is meant to be that, but he just doesn't work well in the role. The closest person I can find in the plot to that part is Ryder's younger brother Liam, yet he is woefully naive throughout much of the storyline. There is a lot of grey though. Ryder leads The Crimson Awl (or at least he thinks he does), a peasant rebellion (think Robin Hood's Merry Men, only not as well organised) meant to unseat the oppressive Baron Purdun who overtaxes the citizens to maintain a large military force, with which he enforces his iron grip on the land.
Baron Purdun though doesn't see himself as an oppressor at all, he levies high taxes yes, he keeps a large army with the revenue true, but this is to guard the people against the forces of the vampiress Shyressa who he inadvertantly woke from her slumber in the novels prologue, set several years before the main narrative. He knows that the Crimson Awl has been subverted by the vampiress, into a tool to remove him from power so that Shyressa can claim the Barony, as a first step to conquering all of Erlkazar itself. So if he isn't evil, then why when he captures Ryder, does he sell him (and 30 others at the same time) into slavery?
His own greed was what led him to open the tomb that housed Shyressa, and he lost his mentor in the process, he fleeing as undead tore his companion apart. His soldiers are brutal thugs, he has a sextet of half-giant enforcers to back him up, and he uses both honeyed words, and threats against Liam's family to get the young man to work for him. Not to mention the fact that he never tells Liam that his supposedly dead brother is actually alive. I've heard of the term "the ends justify the means" but this really does push it to breaking point.
Ryder gets free of the slave chain when bandits attack it, several weeks walk from home, and then he gets imprisoned by the bandits themselves when he refuses to join them, wanting only to return home to his wife and family (who all think he is dead). The novel covers months worth of events, and Ryder does eventually get his freedom from the bandits, by aiding them in defending their stronghold from a trio of undead giants, he using the chains and shackles that had bound him in coffle with the other slaves, as his weapons, hence the name of the book.
What breaks all credibility for me, is how one of the bandits after seeing Ryder fighting in that manner, just happens to have a length of magical spiked chain lying around to give to him! Worse, the young man claims to have never thought of it as a weapon, despite it clearly being exactly that, even to having leather wrapped hand-holds, and the thing discharging magical electricity on impact! I mean come on!!
The books pacing is terrible, at times dragging its heels, at others horribly rushed (the finale especially). Also the couple erotic scenes in the book are just awful, not even remotely romantic and/or sexual. I'm going to give this book 2/5, because while it is bad, it does flesh out a scarcely detailed part of a world I love, and the combat scenes are actually well written and pretty gruesome in places (not surprising when Ryder is essentially whipping his foes with chains and shackles!!).
To be honest I was surprised to see a novel set in this corner of the Realms, as Erlkazar has always been scarcely detailed, so that people wanting to run a D&D campaign in the Realms would have a part of the continent to "make their own", with only the very bare minimum of details provided about that area. Clearly that policy has undergone some change recently. I'm not going to be able to review this without some major spoilers, so if you intend on reading this novel, stop reading this post now.
This is a very confusing book, as there isn't any clear hero. Ryder I suppose, is meant to be that, but he just doesn't work well in the role. The closest person I can find in the plot to that part is Ryder's younger brother Liam, yet he is woefully naive throughout much of the storyline. There is a lot of grey though. Ryder leads The Crimson Awl (or at least he thinks he does), a peasant rebellion (think Robin Hood's Merry Men, only not as well organised) meant to unseat the oppressive Baron Purdun who overtaxes the citizens to maintain a large military force, with which he enforces his iron grip on the land.
Baron Purdun though doesn't see himself as an oppressor at all, he levies high taxes yes, he keeps a large army with the revenue true, but this is to guard the people against the forces of the vampiress Shyressa who he inadvertantly woke from her slumber in the novels prologue, set several years before the main narrative. He knows that the Crimson Awl has been subverted by the vampiress, into a tool to remove him from power so that Shyressa can claim the Barony, as a first step to conquering all of Erlkazar itself. So if he isn't evil, then why when he captures Ryder, does he sell him (and 30 others at the same time) into slavery?
His own greed was what led him to open the tomb that housed Shyressa, and he lost his mentor in the process, he fleeing as undead tore his companion apart. His soldiers are brutal thugs, he has a sextet of half-giant enforcers to back him up, and he uses both honeyed words, and threats against Liam's family to get the young man to work for him. Not to mention the fact that he never tells Liam that his supposedly dead brother is actually alive. I've heard of the term "the ends justify the means" but this really does push it to breaking point.
Ryder gets free of the slave chain when bandits attack it, several weeks walk from home, and then he gets imprisoned by the bandits themselves when he refuses to join them, wanting only to return home to his wife and family (who all think he is dead). The novel covers months worth of events, and Ryder does eventually get his freedom from the bandits, by aiding them in defending their stronghold from a trio of undead giants, he using the chains and shackles that had bound him in coffle with the other slaves, as his weapons, hence the name of the book.
What breaks all credibility for me, is how one of the bandits after seeing Ryder fighting in that manner, just happens to have a length of magical spiked chain lying around to give to him! Worse, the young man claims to have never thought of it as a weapon, despite it clearly being exactly that, even to having leather wrapped hand-holds, and the thing discharging magical electricity on impact! I mean come on!!
The books pacing is terrible, at times dragging its heels, at others horribly rushed (the finale especially). Also the couple erotic scenes in the book are just awful, not even remotely romantic and/or sexual. I'm going to give this book 2/5, because while it is bad, it does flesh out a scarcely detailed part of a world I love, and the combat scenes are actually well written and pretty gruesome in places (not surprising when Ryder is essentially whipping his foes with chains and shackles!!).
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Gothic Horror
I recently watched Sleepy Hollow, one of several movies I've watched over the past week. I seem to be on a bit of a movie marathon of late. I don't like horror movies as a rule, it's not that I'm scared to watch them, I've watched plenty of them in my time, I simply don't find them to be entertaining. Except for gothic horror. I love gothic horror... wait make that I love GOOD gothic horror, because bad gothic horror is just awful.
So what makes good gothic horror? For one, things should never look quite right, even in daylight (and there should be precious little of that), the shadows cast by it should look slightly off. At night mist is pooled about on the ground, buildings should have sharp angles in their construction, and even though the film is in colour, the world should be bleak with an abundance of black, white and grey. It should not be without colour though, some set pieces should a riot of colour, if only to make the dreariness of the rest of the film that much darker by comparison... and the blood should be a vivid shade of red!
I'm not a fan of black and white movies at all, so while there are plenty of gothic horror movies that are shot in that style, I'm not that fond of them. Also a lot of them, while greatly hyped as being masterpieces, really don't stand up that well to repeat viewing. Examples include the original Frankenstein and Dracula movies. I think part of it is that the world isn't black and white, and so I have a hard time watching such films because they are not remotely believeable, they don't draw me in.
Similarly a lot of the early colour gothic horror movies are pretty bad, especially the majority of Hammer Horror movies, though credit goes to Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, the main stars of the studio, who while often starring in dubiously plotted movies, were never less than entertaining, and often superb in them.
Modern gothic horror is really quite sparse, with very few films made in that style these days, and even fewer good ones. Recent films that I have seen and liked though include: Sleepy Hollow, Interview with the Vampire, From Hell, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and for examples set in the present day see Dog Soldiers, The Howling and An American Werewolf In London. For less serious examples of the genre, that incorporate some aspects but also pander to the blockbuster audiences, see The Mummy, The Mummy Returns and Van Helsing.
Part of the reason for the lack of these movies today is that while they look great, they rarely bring in the big bucks at the Box Office, and Hollywood is all about the money. For a slightly different take on gothic horror see the animated films The Nightmare Before Christmas and The Corpse Bride, both by Tim Burton (who I would love to see do a version of Dracula, Jekyll & Hyde or one of the other classics on the genre, the Invisible Man perhaps).
So what makes good gothic horror? For one, things should never look quite right, even in daylight (and there should be precious little of that), the shadows cast by it should look slightly off. At night mist is pooled about on the ground, buildings should have sharp angles in their construction, and even though the film is in colour, the world should be bleak with an abundance of black, white and grey. It should not be without colour though, some set pieces should a riot of colour, if only to make the dreariness of the rest of the film that much darker by comparison... and the blood should be a vivid shade of red!
I'm not a fan of black and white movies at all, so while there are plenty of gothic horror movies that are shot in that style, I'm not that fond of them. Also a lot of them, while greatly hyped as being masterpieces, really don't stand up that well to repeat viewing. Examples include the original Frankenstein and Dracula movies. I think part of it is that the world isn't black and white, and so I have a hard time watching such films because they are not remotely believeable, they don't draw me in.
Similarly a lot of the early colour gothic horror movies are pretty bad, especially the majority of Hammer Horror movies, though credit goes to Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, the main stars of the studio, who while often starring in dubiously plotted movies, were never less than entertaining, and often superb in them.
Modern gothic horror is really quite sparse, with very few films made in that style these days, and even fewer good ones. Recent films that I have seen and liked though include: Sleepy Hollow, Interview with the Vampire, From Hell, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and for examples set in the present day see Dog Soldiers, The Howling and An American Werewolf In London. For less serious examples of the genre, that incorporate some aspects but also pander to the blockbuster audiences, see The Mummy, The Mummy Returns and Van Helsing.
Part of the reason for the lack of these movies today is that while they look great, they rarely bring in the big bucks at the Box Office, and Hollywood is all about the money. For a slightly different take on gothic horror see the animated films The Nightmare Before Christmas and The Corpse Bride, both by Tim Burton (who I would love to see do a version of Dracula, Jekyll & Hyde or one of the other classics on the genre, the Invisible Man perhaps).
Last Christmas
I don't get this song. I like the tune and that, but the lyrics... well they make bugger all sense too me to be honest. I mean it's basically about a guy who got betrayed by the girl he loved last christmas, and his remedy for this, is that next time he'll give his heart to someone special... Soooo wasn't the girl he gave his heart too already and got betrayed by special? And if not, why the fuck did he give her his heart anyway? I mean I know we guys can be a bit clueless at times when it comes to romance and all that jazz, but this song really paints us as being complete morons when it comes to affairs of the heart. Anyway here's the lyrics, see what you make of them!
Last Christmas by Wham
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Once bitten and twice shy
I keep my distance but you still catch my eye
Tell me baby do you recognise me?
Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me
(Happy Christmas!) I wrapped it up and sent it
With a note saying "I Love You" I meant it
Now I know what a fool I've been
But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
(Oooh. Oooh Baby)
A crowded room, friends with tired eyes
I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice
My God I thought you were someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on
A face on a lover with a fire in his heart
A man undercover but you tore me apart
Oooh Oooh
Now I've found a real love you'll never fool me again
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
A face on a lover with a fire in his heart
(Gave you my heart)
A man undercover but you tore me apart
Next year
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
special
someone
someone
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
who'll give me something in return
I'll give it to someone
hold my heart and watch it burn
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
I've got you here to stay
I can love you for a day
I thought you were someone special
gave you my heart
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone
last christmas I gave you my heart
you gave it away
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone
Last Christmas by Wham
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Once bitten and twice shy
I keep my distance but you still catch my eye
Tell me baby do you recognise me?
Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me
(Happy Christmas!) I wrapped it up and sent it
With a note saying "I Love You" I meant it
Now I know what a fool I've been
But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
(Oooh. Oooh Baby)
A crowded room, friends with tired eyes
I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice
My God I thought you were someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on
A face on a lover with a fire in his heart
A man undercover but you tore me apart
Oooh Oooh
Now I've found a real love you'll never fool me again
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
A face on a lover with a fire in his heart
(Gave you my heart)
A man undercover but you tore me apart
Next year
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
special
someone
someone
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
who'll give me something in return
I'll give it to someone
hold my heart and watch it burn
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone special
I've got you here to stay
I can love you for a day
I thought you were someone special
gave you my heart
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone
last christmas I gave you my heart
you gave it away
I'll give it to someone, I'll give it to someone
A Saturday Like Any Other
I woke up late today. This is permissible as I didn't get to bed until 3am or thereabouts. I did set my alarm for fairly early, but it went off, and I got up (I keep my alarm clock on the other side of the room, so I have to get up to turn it off), turned it off and went back to bed. Bad me! so when I did finally get out of bed around noon, it was too late for me to go and get that haircut that I promised myself I'd get today. I think I have Monday off work, so I'll go and get my head shaved then.
Set off at around about 2:30pm on the walk to the cinema with Gareth, the pair of us intent on seeing the new Chronicles of Narnia movie. Tony declined to come along, but after we had reached the cinema (with a sidetrek to the McDonald's nearby first for me to grab a late lunch), he joined us anyway having reconsidered watching the film. As for the film, it was okay. If I had to rate it I'd give it a 3/5, it looks superb (especially the Beavers!) but several bits in it are very cheesy (especially the ending), and while it is obvious that the reason for it being made, is Disney's attempt to cash in on the phenomenal success of the superior Lord of the Rings movies, the director of this film is no Peter Jackson. Next week I have Friday off work, I will be at the cinema early to watch King Kong at least once (and maybe twice), and see the work of a true genius director.
Anyway, back to today. Gareth and I walked home, coming back through town and as we were both hungry by then, stopped off in KFC for some food, before running into the Adam's brothers (Richard & Derek) as well as Jon Wright in the town centre, and getting persuaded to join them in visiting Henry's pub at the top of the High Street. Jon bought me a pint of Guiness, and then when no-one else wanted to face him at Pool, I gamely volunteered (despite being terrible at the game). We played 6 games, he beat me 5-1, and I got the feeling he was going a bit easy on me. I've seen Jon play others, he could have beaten me a lot harder than he did.
With that done, and 9pm creeping up on me, I exited the pub and nipped home (about a 3 min walk away), to change my laundry in the machine, spray on some deodorant, comb hair and drop off my coat, before heading back out and going to the Market House for 80's Night, drawing £10 out of the ATM on the way.
It wasn't a good night at the pub though. No-one was dancing, the music was hit and miss, and the thieving bitch barmaid was on duty, though I avoided getting served by her (which is a good thing cos I'd have made a scene else). Weirdly tonight everyone seemed to be congregating in the cellar pit area of the pub, which is normally the first part of the pub to empty. So I left early and headed straight home, avoiding the temptation to hit Tuckers cafe first (my body can only take so much Fast Food in one day!). So here I am, typing this as I listen too (and sing-a-long with) music from my jukebox folder of mp3's (with my folder of Xmas songs added in for good measure).
Set off at around about 2:30pm on the walk to the cinema with Gareth, the pair of us intent on seeing the new Chronicles of Narnia movie. Tony declined to come along, but after we had reached the cinema (with a sidetrek to the McDonald's nearby first for me to grab a late lunch), he joined us anyway having reconsidered watching the film. As for the film, it was okay. If I had to rate it I'd give it a 3/5, it looks superb (especially the Beavers!) but several bits in it are very cheesy (especially the ending), and while it is obvious that the reason for it being made, is Disney's attempt to cash in on the phenomenal success of the superior Lord of the Rings movies, the director of this film is no Peter Jackson. Next week I have Friday off work, I will be at the cinema early to watch King Kong at least once (and maybe twice), and see the work of a true genius director.
Anyway, back to today. Gareth and I walked home, coming back through town and as we were both hungry by then, stopped off in KFC for some food, before running into the Adam's brothers (Richard & Derek) as well as Jon Wright in the town centre, and getting persuaded to join them in visiting Henry's pub at the top of the High Street. Jon bought me a pint of Guiness, and then when no-one else wanted to face him at Pool, I gamely volunteered (despite being terrible at the game). We played 6 games, he beat me 5-1, and I got the feeling he was going a bit easy on me. I've seen Jon play others, he could have beaten me a lot harder than he did.
With that done, and 9pm creeping up on me, I exited the pub and nipped home (about a 3 min walk away), to change my laundry in the machine, spray on some deodorant, comb hair and drop off my coat, before heading back out and going to the Market House for 80's Night, drawing £10 out of the ATM on the way.
It wasn't a good night at the pub though. No-one was dancing, the music was hit and miss, and the thieving bitch barmaid was on duty, though I avoided getting served by her (which is a good thing cos I'd have made a scene else). Weirdly tonight everyone seemed to be congregating in the cellar pit area of the pub, which is normally the first part of the pub to empty. So I left early and headed straight home, avoiding the temptation to hit Tuckers cafe first (my body can only take so much Fast Food in one day!). So here I am, typing this as I listen too (and sing-a-long with) music from my jukebox folder of mp3's (with my folder of Xmas songs added in for good measure).
The Draw Is Done
As of today the 32 teams competing in next summers Football World Cup know who they are up against in their respective qualifying groups. I'm not that great a fan of football (or soccer if you prefer to call it that), but I do enjoy the World Cup. My own country have never qualified to play in the finals, I don't think Wales ever will to be honest. The old joke about Welsh football fans is that they support two teams: Wales and whoever England is playing!
I'm not that patriotic. I'd like to see Wales with its own parliament, treated as an equal to England, like Scotland is. I think I will likely see that in my lifetime. I don't support England unless they are playing one of three teams: Argentina, Germany and France. If they are playing anyone else, I'll be rooting for the other side, but against those three nations, yeah I'll cheer for England all the way.
Argentina because I don't like seeing cheats win, and thats what they did with Maradona's infamous "Hand of God". Also the bastards invaded the Falkland Islands back in 1982. Granted they got a good kicking, and rightly so, but a lot of Brits lost their lives in that war. Sure was fun when David Beckham's kick put them out of the World Cup last time around.
Germany.... well mainly because the Brits and Germans have a good rivalry going and have done for nearly a century now, having fought two World Wars against each other. Also because they are really dull to watch, all professionalism, no flair. I loved watching the match a few years back where they were thrashed 5-1 in their home stadium by England. I don't watch much football, but myself and my Mum sat and relished watching that drubbing!
And lastly France. Well it's the French. I'm British. We have a long and justifiably proud history of hating our neighbours across the channel. The French talk a good fight, but they are fundamentally gutless, and I have nothing but contempt for them.
England face old enemies Sweden (who they have not beaten in 37 years!), newcomers Trinidad & Tobago, as well as Paraguay. I can't see them having any real problems qualifying at the top of that group and progressing to the knockout stage of the contest. I don't think England will win it, they play too conservatively for that, stupidly defending on single goal leads, rather than attacking. If they were to remember that the best form of defence is offence, that the other side can't score in your goal, when the ball is always in their half of the pitch, then I think England would do well. They have the talent to play like that, but they won't.
I think Brazil are going to win the Cup again personally, but it will be fun to watch the tournament unfold next June.
I'm not that patriotic. I'd like to see Wales with its own parliament, treated as an equal to England, like Scotland is. I think I will likely see that in my lifetime. I don't support England unless they are playing one of three teams: Argentina, Germany and France. If they are playing anyone else, I'll be rooting for the other side, but against those three nations, yeah I'll cheer for England all the way.
Argentina because I don't like seeing cheats win, and thats what they did with Maradona's infamous "Hand of God". Also the bastards invaded the Falkland Islands back in 1982. Granted they got a good kicking, and rightly so, but a lot of Brits lost their lives in that war. Sure was fun when David Beckham's kick put them out of the World Cup last time around.
Germany.... well mainly because the Brits and Germans have a good rivalry going and have done for nearly a century now, having fought two World Wars against each other. Also because they are really dull to watch, all professionalism, no flair. I loved watching the match a few years back where they were thrashed 5-1 in their home stadium by England. I don't watch much football, but myself and my Mum sat and relished watching that drubbing!
And lastly France. Well it's the French. I'm British. We have a long and justifiably proud history of hating our neighbours across the channel. The French talk a good fight, but they are fundamentally gutless, and I have nothing but contempt for them.
England face old enemies Sweden (who they have not beaten in 37 years!), newcomers Trinidad & Tobago, as well as Paraguay. I can't see them having any real problems qualifying at the top of that group and progressing to the knockout stage of the contest. I don't think England will win it, they play too conservatively for that, stupidly defending on single goal leads, rather than attacking. If they were to remember that the best form of defence is offence, that the other side can't score in your goal, when the ball is always in their half of the pitch, then I think England would do well. They have the talent to play like that, but they won't.
I think Brazil are going to win the Cup again personally, but it will be fun to watch the tournament unfold next June.
A Lack Of Focus
Ever had days where you just feel like you're drifting? I've had a whole week of that, hence the lack of posts here. It's not that I've not wanted to write, I LOVE writing. I've opened the page to make posts to my blog dozens of times the past few days and each time inspiration has just run dry. Writer's block is the absolute pits. But it's more than just that. More of a general malaise than a specific ailment.
So I've gotten nothing done really the past week. No D&D session logs typed up (I'm now running about 8 sessions behind on those), heck I didn't do much in the way of prep for yesterdays game, as I'd done it for last weeks session and not gotten to use it then. I've watched a load of movies at home and just not felt the need to write reviews about them. Seen the new Harry Potter film too last weekend. There are a load of things I could write about, I just haven't been able to find the words.
Later today after some sleep I'm going to get my hair cut (or rather shaved), as I hate it when it gets long. So a Grade 2 shave all over, will see me back to how I prefer myself to look. This afternoon I am going with my housemates, to see the Narnia movie, and I might well go out to the Market House tonight (though I'll make bloody sure to avoid that thieving barmaid, this time around). Though thinking about it I'll likely give the pub a miss, as I do still have some Xmas presents to get and the money would be better spent on those than on beer.
So I've gotten nothing done really the past week. No D&D session logs typed up (I'm now running about 8 sessions behind on those), heck I didn't do much in the way of prep for yesterdays game, as I'd done it for last weeks session and not gotten to use it then. I've watched a load of movies at home and just not felt the need to write reviews about them. Seen the new Harry Potter film too last weekend. There are a load of things I could write about, I just haven't been able to find the words.
Later today after some sleep I'm going to get my hair cut (or rather shaved), as I hate it when it gets long. So a Grade 2 shave all over, will see me back to how I prefer myself to look. This afternoon I am going with my housemates, to see the Narnia movie, and I might well go out to the Market House tonight (though I'll make bloody sure to avoid that thieving barmaid, this time around). Though thinking about it I'll likely give the pub a miss, as I do still have some Xmas presents to get and the money would be better spent on those than on beer.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Raise Your Hands
I remember that the first time I heard this song was watching the movie Spaceballs, as it is the song that Barf is listening too when we first see him. It was years before I owned a copy of it though, when I eventually bought the bands Slippery When Wet album on cassette. These days I have it on mp3. It is one of my favourite tunes by Bon Jovi, and I was a bit disapointed when it didn't make the cut for their Best Of album... so since there was space on the B side of my cassette, I taped it onto there anyway, as I felt it should have been included.
Raise Your Hands by Bon Jovi
You...
You got a nasty reputation
We're in a sticky situation
It's down to me and you
So tell me... Is it true?
They say there ain't nobody better
Well now that we're together
Show me what you can do
You're under the gun
Out on the run
Gonna set the night on fire
You're out on the run
Under the gun
And playin' to win
Raise your hands
When you want to let it go
Raise your hands
And you want to let a feeling show
Raise your hands
From New York to Chicago
Raise your hands
From New Jersey to Tokyo
Raise your hands
I... I've been out on the front line
Where you'll go down if you waste time
They'll walk all over you
But I... I ain't here looking for surrender
I'll raise the flag if you'll defend her
It's up to you
You're under the gun
Out on the run
Gonna set the night on fire
You're out on the run
Under the gun
And playin' to win
Raise your hands
When you want to let it go
Raise your hands
And you want to let a feeling show
Raise your hands
From New York to Chicago
Raise your hands
From New Jersey to Tokyo
Raise your hands
Raise Your Hands by Bon Jovi
You...
You got a nasty reputation
We're in a sticky situation
It's down to me and you
So tell me... Is it true?
They say there ain't nobody better
Well now that we're together
Show me what you can do
You're under the gun
Out on the run
Gonna set the night on fire
You're out on the run
Under the gun
And playin' to win
Raise your hands
When you want to let it go
Raise your hands
And you want to let a feeling show
Raise your hands
From New York to Chicago
Raise your hands
From New Jersey to Tokyo
Raise your hands
I... I've been out on the front line
Where you'll go down if you waste time
They'll walk all over you
But I... I ain't here looking for surrender
I'll raise the flag if you'll defend her
It's up to you
You're under the gun
Out on the run
Gonna set the night on fire
You're out on the run
Under the gun
And playin' to win
Raise your hands
When you want to let it go
Raise your hands
And you want to let a feeling show
Raise your hands
From New York to Chicago
Raise your hands
From New Jersey to Tokyo
Raise your hands
Transportation
The following is an excerpt from Chapter 6 of the novel Dancer of Gor by John Norman, one of my favourite books in the saga. Doreen Williamson, a librarian from Earth has been kidnapped and taken to that barbaric world on the other side of the sun, where she has been trained as a slave. Her training done, she is en route to her first sale:
I lay there, hooded, a new slave, trying to understand, down in my belly, what is was, truly, to be a property. I could thus come into the ownership of anyone who had the wherewithal to buy me, male or female. Too, I had little doubt that not all the men on this world could be of the nature of Teibars and Ulricks, and the guards in the house where I had been trained. Doubtless there were men here, too, if not as on Earth, men who might be fretful, petty and weak, men the very sight and smell of which I might find offensive, men whose appearance and least touch I might find literally sickening, men I might find inutterably disgusting, men who were unclean, who were cruel, and loathsome and gross, who might be hideous and frightful, men I might find myself shrinking from, almost vomiting in disgust and terror, but they would own me, as much as any other, and I would be obliged, as a slave, to bring myself warmly and unquestionably into their arms, and bring my lips obediently and hotly to theirs, to submit wholly to them, to give myself wholly to them, to surrender wholly to them, holding back nothing, to please them, fully, and intimately. These things were simple attachments to my condition, consequences of what I was. I could not change them. They were simply part of what it meant to be what I was, a slave. We do not choose our masters nor is it up to us, whether or not we will please them, or to what degree. We must strive to be perfection all ways, for anyone. That is part of what is to be a slave. In reconciling myself to bondage I had, also, to reconcile myself to this condition. It is a part of bondage. It is something which the slave must accept. Without it there can be no true slavery. I had accepted this condition, at least theoretically, verbally, acknowledging its incumbency on me, in my training. Somehow, interestingly, this acceptance, too, seemed liberating to me. It made my bondage much more real to me. Too, interestingly, in its way, it also made it seem much more precious to me.
Still, I supposed one could not truly understand what being a property was until one had been sold, and had come into the keeping of masters. Doubtless Teibar’s "modern woman," his arrogant, pretentious Earth female, as he had thought, his despised catch, would come to understand what that was. How amused he would be from time to time, I supposed, thinking of what he had done to me, the fate into which he had brought me. I tried to hate him, but could not. I wanted rather to kiss his feet. But then perhaps he did not even remember me. Perhaps he had forgotten me! Perhaps I was now alone, totally alone, on this world, having been brought here for a price, and then, having earned my coins for others, discarded, cast into the markets, set adrift in uncertain weather, on trackless seas, to vanish from sight, to disappear tracelessly, with no one noticing or caring, at the mercy of whatever course winds and currents, and fortune, and the will and interests of men, might take me. But I would never forget Teibar. I would remember him, always, even as I moaned in my dreams.
I jerked suddenly, frightened, in the manacles. I could belong to anyone, to anyone who could pay for me! Surely that was wrong for a woman of Earth! How could it have come about that I was now only a lowly slave? I had been a woman of Earth! How could it have come about then that I was now, on this world, only a collared animal, stripped and chained, at the mercy of masters? Could it truly be I here, in this cage, in chains? Had I gone mad? Could I be dreaming? But I pushed up with my tongue, straining my tongue, against the bottom of the leather ball in my mouth, fixed there so mercilessly, so effectively. I moved my lips and teeth about it. I could feel its shape and size. But I could not dislodge it. I shook my head a little, moving the chain on my neck. It was on me. I hurt my wrists, pulling against the manacles that confined them. But I could not relieve their stern clasp in the least, nor extend by an iota the tiny span their links allotted me. I moved my shoulder and thigh on the metal flooring. My shoulder was sore, and my thigh was sensitive, and perhaps red. The flooring gave us a very obdurate surface. It was very solid. It was plated, and heavy. I supposed it might be of iron. The plates, I conjectured, judging from the apparent weight and solidity of them, must be an inch thick, at least. No, I was not dreaming. It was I, here, truly, in this place, now a slave. Then again I was content. How had Teibar, and others, I wondered, have known that I was a slave? It had not been hard to tell, I had gathered. I was frightened, but, too, I knew I was where I belonged, in bondage.
I lay there, hooded, a new slave, trying to understand, down in my belly, what is was, truly, to be a property. I could thus come into the ownership of anyone who had the wherewithal to buy me, male or female. Too, I had little doubt that not all the men on this world could be of the nature of Teibars and Ulricks, and the guards in the house where I had been trained. Doubtless there were men here, too, if not as on Earth, men who might be fretful, petty and weak, men the very sight and smell of which I might find offensive, men whose appearance and least touch I might find literally sickening, men I might find inutterably disgusting, men who were unclean, who were cruel, and loathsome and gross, who might be hideous and frightful, men I might find myself shrinking from, almost vomiting in disgust and terror, but they would own me, as much as any other, and I would be obliged, as a slave, to bring myself warmly and unquestionably into their arms, and bring my lips obediently and hotly to theirs, to submit wholly to them, to give myself wholly to them, to surrender wholly to them, holding back nothing, to please them, fully, and intimately. These things were simple attachments to my condition, consequences of what I was. I could not change them. They were simply part of what it meant to be what I was, a slave. We do not choose our masters nor is it up to us, whether or not we will please them, or to what degree. We must strive to be perfection all ways, for anyone. That is part of what is to be a slave. In reconciling myself to bondage I had, also, to reconcile myself to this condition. It is a part of bondage. It is something which the slave must accept. Without it there can be no true slavery. I had accepted this condition, at least theoretically, verbally, acknowledging its incumbency on me, in my training. Somehow, interestingly, this acceptance, too, seemed liberating to me. It made my bondage much more real to me. Too, interestingly, in its way, it also made it seem much more precious to me.
Still, I supposed one could not truly understand what being a property was until one had been sold, and had come into the keeping of masters. Doubtless Teibar’s "modern woman," his arrogant, pretentious Earth female, as he had thought, his despised catch, would come to understand what that was. How amused he would be from time to time, I supposed, thinking of what he had done to me, the fate into which he had brought me. I tried to hate him, but could not. I wanted rather to kiss his feet. But then perhaps he did not even remember me. Perhaps he had forgotten me! Perhaps I was now alone, totally alone, on this world, having been brought here for a price, and then, having earned my coins for others, discarded, cast into the markets, set adrift in uncertain weather, on trackless seas, to vanish from sight, to disappear tracelessly, with no one noticing or caring, at the mercy of whatever course winds and currents, and fortune, and the will and interests of men, might take me. But I would never forget Teibar. I would remember him, always, even as I moaned in my dreams.
I jerked suddenly, frightened, in the manacles. I could belong to anyone, to anyone who could pay for me! Surely that was wrong for a woman of Earth! How could it have come about that I was now only a lowly slave? I had been a woman of Earth! How could it have come about then that I was now, on this world, only a collared animal, stripped and chained, at the mercy of masters? Could it truly be I here, in this cage, in chains? Had I gone mad? Could I be dreaming? But I pushed up with my tongue, straining my tongue, against the bottom of the leather ball in my mouth, fixed there so mercilessly, so effectively. I moved my lips and teeth about it. I could feel its shape and size. But I could not dislodge it. I shook my head a little, moving the chain on my neck. It was on me. I hurt my wrists, pulling against the manacles that confined them. But I could not relieve their stern clasp in the least, nor extend by an iota the tiny span their links allotted me. I moved my shoulder and thigh on the metal flooring. My shoulder was sore, and my thigh was sensitive, and perhaps red. The flooring gave us a very obdurate surface. It was very solid. It was plated, and heavy. I supposed it might be of iron. The plates, I conjectured, judging from the apparent weight and solidity of them, must be an inch thick, at least. No, I was not dreaming. It was I, here, truly, in this place, now a slave. Then again I was content. How had Teibar, and others, I wondered, have known that I was a slave? It had not been hard to tell, I had gathered. I was frightened, but, too, I knew I was where I belonged, in bondage.
Monday, December 05, 2005
The Other Inhabitants
I have a nice room in the house I share, a fairly big room with a bay window that overhangs the pavement outside, a smooth wooden floor, a decorative fireplace and green & grey painted walls. I am, despite my lack of a partner to share my life with, also not alone in this room. I have three other inhabitants. They are Gus, Akimbo and Garfield. They are not pets, our house rental agreement does not allow for pets, rather they are stuffed toy animals.
Gus is the youngest of these. In fact he is not yet a year old, having been bought for me last Xmas by my Mum (though I'm guessing my Sister had a hand in his purchase too). My main present last year was my new bed, and so on Xmas Day itself I got a few items, but nothing major. But I got this character, who I completely was not expecting and who made my day! I love dogs, I worked for 2.5 years at a boarding kennels and I plan on owning a Bassett Hound someday when/if I eventually own my own home and can afford one. That day is a long way into the future, which I think is partly why I was bought this dog. I didn't name him, my Sister did that, but I would have likely called him Gus anyway, it suits him I think. He lives on the pillows on the unoccupied right side of my bed.
The next oldest resident is Akimbo the frog. Akimbo is a beanie, a soft toy filled with polystyrene beans, much like a tiny frog-shaped beanbag I guess. She is named for the term "Legs Akimbo" meaning widely spread, as the long thin legs (hidden behind the speaker in this picture), always spread wide apart whenever she is dropped. She was bought when I moved into my old flat back in 2002. My Mum (and Sister again) took me around the various charity shops prior to the move, to buy me a few things I'd need for a home of my own, bits and pieces like Coffee and Sugar jars, some drinking glasses (including my pair of wine goblets), a bin, bookcase, and a few other things. Akimbo was sat on a shelf in one of these stores and for just £1. I got an odd look from my Mum when I added it to the pile on the counter, but I wanted something decorative for the shower room. For the couple years I lived there, that is where Akimbo resided, on the shelf beside the sink. Nowadays she lives on top of my computer desk, draped over a speaker.
Lastly there is Garfield, who has been with me for many years now, I honestly don't know how many. If I had to guess, I'd say I've owned this cat now since the late 80's. We moved to Taunton in March 1987 and it wasn't that long after that that I spotted him in Hatchers department store in the town centre, whilst with my Mum and both of my siblings. He wasn't cheap, setting me back £14, but he was the only Garfield in town that I felt properly captured the character. I loved the Garfield comic strip as a kid, though these days I feel that the strip should have been retired years ago, as it just recycles the same gags time and time again. Still, all the other stuffed toys of him at the time had him doing something or wearing something. I wanted a Garfield that fitted the one from the comic, so after dragging my Mum across town we found this one, hanging by a hook from the ceiling above a display of other Garfields that I didn't like the look of. Thankfully, Mum was able to reach up and fetch him down.
In my parents house, he lived on top of my wardrobe, looking across the room towards my bed. This used to freak out my friend Mark Newton, who every time he came to visit would turn him around so that "that damn cat isn't staring at me". I still get a grin about that habit of his. Ever since moving to my old flat, and then this house, he has lived atop the books on the shelf at the top of my computer desk, where he can watch/lord over my room/his domain.
So those are the other residents of my bedroom, I honestly have no idea why I've felt motivated to write about them, but I've been searching for a topic to write about all day and this one suddenly popped into my head and I figured it was as good an idea to write about as any other.
Gus is the youngest of these. In fact he is not yet a year old, having been bought for me last Xmas by my Mum (though I'm guessing my Sister had a hand in his purchase too). My main present last year was my new bed, and so on Xmas Day itself I got a few items, but nothing major. But I got this character, who I completely was not expecting and who made my day! I love dogs, I worked for 2.5 years at a boarding kennels and I plan on owning a Bassett Hound someday when/if I eventually own my own home and can afford one. That day is a long way into the future, which I think is partly why I was bought this dog. I didn't name him, my Sister did that, but I would have likely called him Gus anyway, it suits him I think. He lives on the pillows on the unoccupied right side of my bed.
The next oldest resident is Akimbo the frog. Akimbo is a beanie, a soft toy filled with polystyrene beans, much like a tiny frog-shaped beanbag I guess. She is named for the term "Legs Akimbo" meaning widely spread, as the long thin legs (hidden behind the speaker in this picture), always spread wide apart whenever she is dropped. She was bought when I moved into my old flat back in 2002. My Mum (and Sister again) took me around the various charity shops prior to the move, to buy me a few things I'd need for a home of my own, bits and pieces like Coffee and Sugar jars, some drinking glasses (including my pair of wine goblets), a bin, bookcase, and a few other things. Akimbo was sat on a shelf in one of these stores and for just £1. I got an odd look from my Mum when I added it to the pile on the counter, but I wanted something decorative for the shower room. For the couple years I lived there, that is where Akimbo resided, on the shelf beside the sink. Nowadays she lives on top of my computer desk, draped over a speaker.
Lastly there is Garfield, who has been with me for many years now, I honestly don't know how many. If I had to guess, I'd say I've owned this cat now since the late 80's. We moved to Taunton in March 1987 and it wasn't that long after that that I spotted him in Hatchers department store in the town centre, whilst with my Mum and both of my siblings. He wasn't cheap, setting me back £14, but he was the only Garfield in town that I felt properly captured the character. I loved the Garfield comic strip as a kid, though these days I feel that the strip should have been retired years ago, as it just recycles the same gags time and time again. Still, all the other stuffed toys of him at the time had him doing something or wearing something. I wanted a Garfield that fitted the one from the comic, so after dragging my Mum across town we found this one, hanging by a hook from the ceiling above a display of other Garfields that I didn't like the look of. Thankfully, Mum was able to reach up and fetch him down.In my parents house, he lived on top of my wardrobe, looking across the room towards my bed. This used to freak out my friend Mark Newton, who every time he came to visit would turn him around so that "that damn cat isn't staring at me". I still get a grin about that habit of his. Ever since moving to my old flat, and then this house, he has lived atop the books on the shelf at the top of my computer desk, where he can watch/lord over my room/his domain.
So those are the other residents of my bedroom, I honestly have no idea why I've felt motivated to write about them, but I've been searching for a topic to write about all day and this one suddenly popped into my head and I figured it was as good an idea to write about as any other.
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