Evening, Drinkies. After not posting for a while, I feel as though I've let the team down abit, especially since my friend Andrew has bested me in his journalistic ability by posting almost every day, wheras I seem to post once every week. Its not good enough, and rest assured I will be punishing myself severely. I'm not sure how yet, but you can bet it'll involve a whole lot of whips and chains.
And possibly rats. Holy crap, this is scary right?!
Lets move on.
Its recently come to my attention that the BBC website has been doing a very interesting thing, where they put the 5 most-viewed stories of the day on a little chart. How long theyve been doing this for is anyones guess, and im sure the more educated of you out there will know, like the brainiacs you are, and will trump me in a conversation with a mighty "HA" whilst I bow my head in shame and turmoil. Crying will ensue. This (the top five, not the crying) at face value was particuarally interesting, considering the stories involved. It was a real indication of quite how morbidly curious our country (and possibly the world) has become, and how our attention has switched from subjects such as tea, coffee, conversation and knitting a quilt, to the three subjects that all of us read most of all.
Rape, Murder and Child abuse.
It was incredibly twisted. Admittedly, they were shocking stories, and no doubt very important, but with so much going on in todays United Kingdom, the recession, the tax gap, wars, conflicts etc, it seemed weird that the public focused on this. I'm scared of this. It makes me scared. I'm gonna leave this here, because I got off track with a project I'm working on.
CUT SHORT!
Monday, 16 February 2009
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Luke Hates You All
Or at least, according to Aristotle, I should. This information is some that is pondered by scholars and intellectuals, and considering I'm neither, and that right now I'm listening to Warren Zevon, this truth is not so self evident. The barbarian concept put forward by Aristotle suggested that the state should be ruled by enlightened men, indeed men that are Philosopher kings, athletes, politicians, thinkers, rulers, all of which do not describe the current UK administration. Take a look, we are in the middle of one of the biggest recessions in a long time, and we are still engaged in an illegal war. Even the new president of the united states is angry at us, and considering he seems to be quite a nice and generous fellow, perhaps we should think of this as a bad sign.
Still, as has been discussed, our current political system is much better than the Babylonian technique of all powerful emperors, or "God Kings" as they are more commonly know, and personally I believe Cromwell did us a favour by creating a Parliament. Democracy will be something i will always defend, to the point where i am threatened with torture, where i will probably say "alright, I guess totalitarian or monarchy is a better method. Did i mention I'm pure British and not at all a little bit Irish. You don't need to check that..."
I'm not sure that'll hold up in front of a modern day Hitler, with his incredible amount of rage for people who aren't "German". It sure is a shame that didn't work. Boy howdy. I mean, who would have thought people would have not accepted that?! Man, damn.
Personally, I'm for whoever can create a state of equal people and lack of poverty. But that's not going to happen, so in the meantime, I say lets all try the Darwin theory. Everyone who is insubstantial, that is to say, idiotic, in this day and age, will slowly be weaned out like an insufferable noise in a spa, and we will all accept the incredible power of evolution in order to continue the species.
God is dead, as Nietzsche said, but we didn't kill him, he was already dead.
Rock on motherfuckers.
Politics Blog #1
Still, as has been discussed, our current political system is much better than the Babylonian technique of all powerful emperors, or "God Kings" as they are more commonly know, and personally I believe Cromwell did us a favour by creating a Parliament. Democracy will be something i will always defend, to the point where i am threatened with torture, where i will probably say "alright, I guess totalitarian or monarchy is a better method. Did i mention I'm pure British and not at all a little bit Irish. You don't need to check that..."
I'm not sure that'll hold up in front of a modern day Hitler, with his incredible amount of rage for people who aren't "German". It sure is a shame that didn't work. Boy howdy. I mean, who would have thought people would have not accepted that?! Man, damn.
Personally, I'm for whoever can create a state of equal people and lack of poverty. But that's not going to happen, so in the meantime, I say lets all try the Darwin theory. Everyone who is insubstantial, that is to say, idiotic, in this day and age, will slowly be weaned out like an insufferable noise in a spa, and we will all accept the incredible power of evolution in order to continue the species.
God is dead, as Nietzsche said, but we didn't kill him, he was already dead.
Rock on motherfuckers.
Politics Blog #1
Friday, 16 January 2009
Secondly...more profanity
What the fuuuuuuuuuuck?!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osmosis_Jones
For a person who studied biology, this movie is awesome and horrifying for some reason.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osmosis_Jones
For a person who studied biology, this movie is awesome and horrifying for some reason.
Sunday, 11 January 2009
Re-writes Needed
I am here once again supply you with a healthy dose of Luke Garratt. It has been a while. Lets all of us look at the TV this season, and applaud stupidity, once again, as though it were the last time. Strap in. Strap in to the ever-crashing car of as-aired television.
Celebrity Big Brother (Channel 4)
What a surprise. Its back and its more innocuous than ever. Children, come crowd around the strangers, as we watch them sleep, eat and drink from their pathetic lives. Well, I say that, but this series seems to have some quite interesting characters. And by interesting, I mean, clowns. From a circus. The startling thing is that the assortment of people in the house actually does represent a circus of sorts, the type of thing you'd find touring around rural french towns in the 1900's. The select members that I have researched on the fantastic medium of THE INTERNET show that as a human being I cannot explain their purpose in life. But I will try my best in the next paragraph or so.
Let's start with with the unflappable ULRIKA JONSSON. The only way I can remember ULRIKA JONSSON is a small episode of a reality show in the vein of a "home makeover show" where children were asked to make amends to their parents houses, with their sticky hands pawing over blueprints of such monstrosities as an "Austin Powers Room". Needless to say, I'm sure these children were murdered. The next candidate is one LUCY PINDER. I believe that she was evicted on DAY 8, and I'm fairly sure this was either her incredibly right-wing politics. Whilst this proved that indeed she did have something in her brain apart from air, unfortunately a secondary conclusion had to be drawn. Imagine an apple...no, imagine an orange, with a shiny peel, it looks appetising, but having been left so long, to stew and ferment, the contents within the shiny husk is nothing but bitter, seed filled, dry pulp. Also, I'm sure that LUCY PINDER cannot be discerned from a pencil with two tits attached in a lineup, and no one wants a lady who looks like a criminal pencil in a lineup. Next up, VERNE TROYER. Simply small. Just so unfeasibly, horrifyingly small that one cannot fathom how he ever came into being.
The deal with the latest series of BIG BROTHER is the deal that's been with every other previous incarnation of the show. I will hate it, as will many of you, but that's just life. There will always be those who love it, and after about 8 years of having prime time ruled by it in the months that its on, the format has rarely ever changed, so the likelihood is, I'll never like it. THE END.
Spooks (BBC One)
Once again THE INTERNET has provided me with more information than I require, but I have decided to write about this program simply because I had three episodes taped that I did not remember that I had taped. Episodes 2, 4 and 8 (the finale) were the only ones available to me, and yet, I think I can say I've seen all I need to. But I crave more. The thing with Spooks is that it's simply different. Different in a way that most audiences would deem "bad" or even "boring". The style of the entire show is different to every spy medium, and I believe for a very simple reason. It doesn't talk down. It doesn't even talk on the level, but it talks up.
It assumes you know all about these protocols within the secret service. An example is the "Total Deniability" protocol, that seems to be laboured and lauded in every spy movie, book or TV show. There is usually a speech and a "God damn it sir, no" but Spooks deals with this sort of thing in a much more professional way, dealing with these little cliches in a concise manner, so that the seem organic and real. Anyway, I love it, Highly recommend it to any of you who have been living in a cave for 6 years, and I want to see more. Of the series, not of the cave.
Demons (ITV 2)
Huuuuuuuuh. Well. Hm. I had trouble with this. The idea behind is that of VAN HELSING (the guy who talked to Dracula for a while before doing...something) and for the most part it does it alright. The cast consists of a child that looks strangely familiar despite very few credentials, a girl who also looks strangely familiar despite the same vices, and Philip Glenister who is forced to do an American accent...for some reason. The show centers around the boy actor, playing "Luke" is the last decedent of VAN HELSING, and he is tasked with saving people with the help of his American godfather, and his not-girlfriend, and a blind girl in...a...big library? Oh for gods sake, its ridiculous. The main arch-villain of the first episode is supposed to be fearsome because of one thing, a nose prosthetic. Is ITV2 saying that we need to kill all those with a prosthetic nose, indeed, all people wearing prosthetics of any kind, as though they are demons from the deep, dark reaches of hell? Perhaps. But more likely, they're saying "Look, ninja kid guys wheeeeeeeee, you too can be a social outcast with supernatural powers!
...Next up, Jordan and Peter: The sodding never ending story. The tits."
Also, Buffy did it already. Idiots.
Celebrity Big Brother (Channel 4)
What a surprise. Its back and its more innocuous than ever. Children, come crowd around the strangers, as we watch them sleep, eat and drink from their pathetic lives. Well, I say that, but this series seems to have some quite interesting characters. And by interesting, I mean, clowns. From a circus. The startling thing is that the assortment of people in the house actually does represent a circus of sorts, the type of thing you'd find touring around rural french towns in the 1900's. The select members that I have researched on the fantastic medium of THE INTERNET show that as a human being I cannot explain their purpose in life. But I will try my best in the next paragraph or so.
Let's start with with the unflappable ULRIKA JONSSON. The only way I can remember ULRIKA JONSSON is a small episode of a reality show in the vein of a "home makeover show" where children were asked to make amends to their parents houses, with their sticky hands pawing over blueprints of such monstrosities as an "Austin Powers Room". Needless to say, I'm sure these children were murdered. The next candidate is one LUCY PINDER. I believe that she was evicted on DAY 8, and I'm fairly sure this was either her incredibly right-wing politics. Whilst this proved that indeed she did have something in her brain apart from air, unfortunately a secondary conclusion had to be drawn. Imagine an apple...no, imagine an orange, with a shiny peel, it looks appetising, but having been left so long, to stew and ferment, the contents within the shiny husk is nothing but bitter, seed filled, dry pulp. Also, I'm sure that LUCY PINDER cannot be discerned from a pencil with two tits attached in a lineup, and no one wants a lady who looks like a criminal pencil in a lineup. Next up, VERNE TROYER. Simply small. Just so unfeasibly, horrifyingly small that one cannot fathom how he ever came into being.
The deal with the latest series of BIG BROTHER is the deal that's been with every other previous incarnation of the show. I will hate it, as will many of you, but that's just life. There will always be those who love it, and after about 8 years of having prime time ruled by it in the months that its on, the format has rarely ever changed, so the likelihood is, I'll never like it. THE END.
Spooks (BBC One)
Once again THE INTERNET has provided me with more information than I require, but I have decided to write about this program simply because I had three episodes taped that I did not remember that I had taped. Episodes 2, 4 and 8 (the finale) were the only ones available to me, and yet, I think I can say I've seen all I need to. But I crave more. The thing with Spooks is that it's simply different. Different in a way that most audiences would deem "bad" or even "boring". The style of the entire show is different to every spy medium, and I believe for a very simple reason. It doesn't talk down. It doesn't even talk on the level, but it talks up.
It assumes you know all about these protocols within the secret service. An example is the "Total Deniability" protocol, that seems to be laboured and lauded in every spy movie, book or TV show. There is usually a speech and a "God damn it sir, no" but Spooks deals with this sort of thing in a much more professional way, dealing with these little cliches in a concise manner, so that the seem organic and real. Anyway, I love it, Highly recommend it to any of you who have been living in a cave for 6 years, and I want to see more. Of the series, not of the cave.
Demons (ITV 2)
Huuuuuuuuh. Well. Hm. I had trouble with this. The idea behind is that of VAN HELSING (the guy who talked to Dracula for a while before doing...something) and for the most part it does it alright. The cast consists of a child that looks strangely familiar despite very few credentials, a girl who also looks strangely familiar despite the same vices, and Philip Glenister who is forced to do an American accent...for some reason. The show centers around the boy actor, playing "Luke" is the last decedent of VAN HELSING, and he is tasked with saving people with the help of his American godfather, and his not-girlfriend, and a blind girl in...a...big library? Oh for gods sake, its ridiculous. The main arch-villain of the first episode is supposed to be fearsome because of one thing, a nose prosthetic. Is ITV2 saying that we need to kill all those with a prosthetic nose, indeed, all people wearing prosthetics of any kind, as though they are demons from the deep, dark reaches of hell? Perhaps. But more likely, they're saying "Look, ninja kid guys wheeeeeeeee, you too can be a social outcast with supernatural powers!
...Next up, Jordan and Peter: The sodding never ending story. The tits."
Also, Buffy did it already. Idiots.
Monday, 29 December 2008
A Heartbreaking Tale of Staggering Beauty
As much as I have protested throughout most of my semi-adult teenage life, I am coming much more consciously aware of a desire building in me to write fiction. As a younger man, I abhorred the act of writing fiction, partly due to a principle I had come to refer to as "Midnight Philanthropy". Now as much as this sounds like a strange pseudo electronic-soft rock ballad-type band, (And it was, for three days) I used it as a term for any teenage literature, and in turn, literature that teenagers would commonly associate with "Fantastic Writing". That is to say that many of these works of literary delight very frequently used over-indulgent descriptions. Many people find these metaphors very enjoyable to read, but I, as a twisted misanthrope, simply found them innocuous.
Well, no surprise there then...
An example of such a description is one of my own invention, and it bears mentioning that I vomited twice after writing it. Yeah, think about that motherfuckers.
The moon shone in the lake, the water rippling like the lake was being caressed by several tiny hands, so dainty that they could only embark on a small venture from the shores.
Ugh. You see?
Anyway, I felt as though writing these sorts of things were inherent in writing fiction, so I made a very drastic attempt to stray away from it, only to find that this was a HUGE MISTAKE when I started University. "SHIT," I had briefly considered, as I was told to write something for the next class. "Write what you know" was the advice given to me by a friend, whom I immediately stuck with an open palm, shouting "Don't be so impetuous, the maestro has to WORK!"
Things were bad, and they were going to get worse, fast. I cobbled together a humorous sketch thing about the president, and then a thing about gangsters, pieced together from parts of a horrifying nightmare, but it wasn't enough. Then I thought, "Write what you...know!" shortly followed by; "Luke, you're a genius" and then a fifth of whisky.
It was good advice. I knew being cynical, I had spent most of my teenage years with the perspective of a much older man, about the world being crap and such, and so I knew a lot about misanthropic texts. I perused the words of Bret Ellis, and took in everything about The Great Gatsby. It helped. I liked novels about disenfranchisement, about decay and grit. So I liked writing them. After all, I am a cynic.
Reading this makes me depressed.
That's all from that, the moral of the story is, go do something that was obviously a good idea to start with. "Midnight Philanthropy" is not the only term I had hashed up as a young man, and between rehearsals for the school productions, me and many friends in my secondary school education coined a couple of words that we still use in everyday talk...uh...everyday. Lets dive right in;
Peace out Bitches.
Well, no surprise there then...
An example of such a description is one of my own invention, and it bears mentioning that I vomited twice after writing it. Yeah, think about that motherfuckers.
The moon shone in the lake, the water rippling like the lake was being caressed by several tiny hands, so dainty that they could only embark on a small venture from the shores.
Ugh. You see?
Anyway, I felt as though writing these sorts of things were inherent in writing fiction, so I made a very drastic attempt to stray away from it, only to find that this was a HUGE MISTAKE when I started University. "SHIT," I had briefly considered, as I was told to write something for the next class. "Write what you know" was the advice given to me by a friend, whom I immediately stuck with an open palm, shouting "Don't be so impetuous, the maestro has to WORK!"
Things were bad, and they were going to get worse, fast. I cobbled together a humorous sketch thing about the president, and then a thing about gangsters, pieced together from parts of a horrifying nightmare, but it wasn't enough. Then I thought, "Write what you...know!" shortly followed by; "Luke, you're a genius" and then a fifth of whisky.
It was good advice. I knew being cynical, I had spent most of my teenage years with the perspective of a much older man, about the world being crap and such, and so I knew a lot about misanthropic texts. I perused the words of Bret Ellis, and took in everything about The Great Gatsby. It helped. I liked novels about disenfranchisement, about decay and grit. So I liked writing them. After all, I am a cynic.
Reading this makes me depressed.
That's all from that, the moral of the story is, go do something that was obviously a good idea to start with. "Midnight Philanthropy" is not the only term I had hashed up as a young man, and between rehearsals for the school productions, me and many friends in my secondary school education coined a couple of words that we still use in everyday talk...uh...everyday. Lets dive right in;
- Rooney: A person who looks like a chav, acts like a chav, partakes in typical chav-like activities. May indeed be a chav.
e.g. "careful, there's a Rooney coming in the store" or "That Rooney was mental!". Can also be used in the plural sense; "Look at that bunch of Rooneys." (cautionary note: NEVER look at a bunch of Rooneys) - Chough: A person who acts like they are better than everyone else, and takes a much higher stance on things, such as acting more intelligent, or making jokes at other peoples expense, whilst being much less informed and/or intelligent, yet still pursuing the notion that they are better than other people. Choughs tend to run in packs of about three of four, and will have groups of mixed sex. They may also have Demi-Choughs sticking close by, basking in their self serving and egotistical nature. Also, sometimes they can be total fucking douchebags.
Peace out Bitches.
Sunday, 7 December 2008
4am Miracle
Once again, I stand at the precipice of something, edging closer to the darkest depths of darkness. And depth...
Anyway, right now, I am continuing my complete transformation in a complete bat. By which I mean a nocturnal creature. Also I have large, leathery wings, and a tendency to sleep upside down, hanging from a rafter or pole, any strong support really. I stay up late out of guilt for lack of work, and at around 4am, I occasionally experience a phenomena that allows me to do a good bit of work that helps my self-esteem, much like the great Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and his Kubla Khan, or should I say "Kubla Khan, A Vision in a Dream: A fragment. Except I don't use opiates. That's right, I've read a poem, I'm pretty smart by and large. And in great shape, Ladies. Anyway, my dear friends, it seems that this miracle-giving time is upon us again. Also, Christmas.
I couldn't think of a smoother way to segway from writing to Christmas. As a time, my family has had a very mixed view over Christmas. As a son of divorced parents, it was always a very tenuous time of the year, but wherever I was, we always struggled through in some sort of food-induced coma, attempting to tap into the thin veins of cheer contained within the thick layers of grumpusness. (It's not really a word, I made it up)
This year however, I have been feeling incredibly tuned into the Christmas spirit. Not in a clairvoyant or privileged way, but in a "Charlie Brown Christmas" kind of way. That's right friends, I am Linus, and I bring with me the true meaning of Christmas.
Before we all leave for the holidays, a group of my friends and I have decided to have a meal together, with home-cooked food. This might not seem like an original sentiment, but it's a big deal because this is the first time that I have had a Christmas meal with anybody other than family. The majority of these friends met each other less than three months ago, and yet here we are, having a significant meal together as peers, neighbours, colleagues and friends. I do not believe that the true spirit of Christmas lies in presents, or money, or faith, but in a simple conglomeration of people, in a room, even if it's only for an hour or two.
Bringing people together, it's what Christmas is all about, and I'll be damned if people can't see that.
I'm gonna get back to writing now.
Merry Christmas, Friends and Colleagues.
Have a good one.
Anyway, right now, I am continuing my complete transformation in a complete bat. By which I mean a nocturnal creature. Also I have large, leathery wings, and a tendency to sleep upside down, hanging from a rafter or pole, any strong support really. I stay up late out of guilt for lack of work, and at around 4am, I occasionally experience a phenomena that allows me to do a good bit of work that helps my self-esteem, much like the great Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and his Kubla Khan, or should I say "Kubla Khan, A Vision in a Dream: A fragment. Except I don't use opiates. That's right, I've read a poem, I'm pretty smart by and large. And in great shape, Ladies. Anyway, my dear friends, it seems that this miracle-giving time is upon us again. Also, Christmas.
I couldn't think of a smoother way to segway from writing to Christmas. As a time, my family has had a very mixed view over Christmas. As a son of divorced parents, it was always a very tenuous time of the year, but wherever I was, we always struggled through in some sort of food-induced coma, attempting to tap into the thin veins of cheer contained within the thick layers of grumpusness. (It's not really a word, I made it up)
This year however, I have been feeling incredibly tuned into the Christmas spirit. Not in a clairvoyant or privileged way, but in a "Charlie Brown Christmas" kind of way. That's right friends, I am Linus, and I bring with me the true meaning of Christmas.
Before we all leave for the holidays, a group of my friends and I have decided to have a meal together, with home-cooked food. This might not seem like an original sentiment, but it's a big deal because this is the first time that I have had a Christmas meal with anybody other than family. The majority of these friends met each other less than three months ago, and yet here we are, having a significant meal together as peers, neighbours, colleagues and friends. I do not believe that the true spirit of Christmas lies in presents, or money, or faith, but in a simple conglomeration of people, in a room, even if it's only for an hour or two.
Bringing people together, it's what Christmas is all about, and I'll be damned if people can't see that.
I'm gonna get back to writing now.
Merry Christmas, Friends and Colleagues.
Have a good one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
