Simile... It Confuses People

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I stitched dis

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'All Art Is Quite Useless'

You remember the TARDIS thing I made out of electrical tape a while ago?

Well a few days ago it fell down a very thin gap behind my desk at uni, gone forever. It is irretrievable. Not for lack of trying of course: I reached with card strips and straws to try and get it out but most of the desk is literally attached to the wall so there was and is really no hope. I was unsurprisingly sad at the time, something I made will not be seen until someone replaces the entire piece of furniture, which won't be for a considerable while.

But I'm not sad any more.

See, it really does suck that I'll never see or display it again, but I didn't really make it to show off. I made it for the same reason I write, and the same reason I make things, and the same reason I cook, and learn, and challenge myself. I do it because it's there, and I couldn't imagine not doing it. There are so many stories and poems no one has seen and no one will likely ever see, so many things I've made that will go lost or be forgotten, and that's the same for anyone who writes, or draws, or paints, or expresses themselves in any way yet we all keep going.

The nature of art, heck, the nature of life, is transience. Everything ends, and with a recent death in my family I can recognise that very well, but the more I focus on any kind of loss, the more I lose track of what I can create, and creating is all I can really do.

I won't try to remake the thing to any degree, not to replicate it or improve on it. I'm going to slip a note down there with it apologising and saying I really hope I've improved since then. Otherwise all I can really do is the same as anyone else, (ironically) keep trying to be and to express myself, and hopefully that'll be enough.

Jeez, that was all very profound and I apologise.

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So I've developed a new guilty pleasure... I've... I've started browsing the personal ads on Craigslist... Mainly because they are hilariously stupid! Also pretty darn filthy as well; there are dick pics aplenty, fetishists, and general oddballs all over the shop. On the other hand, there are also some endearingly sweet posts that make me want to make a sound like 'Awwwwehhhhhhhwwwaaaww'. Here are some interesting quotes I've just pulled out from all over the world:

'Pukey girl?' - I don't think I need, or want to, explain this one.

'Want to get pregnant?' - Because nothing says "your father loved you" like literally impregnating the first stranger that would let him!

'dad perv into taboo incest chat about my daughter' -  Craigslist really reminds you how lovely humanity is!

'A WOMAN THAT WANT TO SPEND HER MONEY ON ME* GOOD INVESTMENT' - Well at least she's explaining that the investment is sound, otherwise I'd have had my doubts.

'I'm looking for girls to kick me in my balls, grab, squeeze, and abuse my nuts and provide feedbacks on their experience' - I think Wolverine has gotten a bit too boisterous since he had the adamantium testicles installed.

'I'd find it rather understandable that you'd be thinking about a taller, better looking and all around superior guy while I'm pumping my putrid self into you. Hell, I'm sure a rabbid jackal's scrotal leaking is more attractive than I.' - This sounds oddly like Humbert Humbert, and is simultaneously creepy and endearingly self hating; it's an awwwwewwww moment.

 'Hickory. dickory dock We blow butts ,U play with my cock' - *sniff* so... beautiful.

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Splice Review (Spoliers, duh)

I just watched Splice. Here is a general overview of my emotions throughout the film.

Oh well that's pretty strange but it's science, I guess. That strange hunk of flesh is kinda cute if you squint a bit. Aww I guess love really is blind. Oh so they're making medicines through protein strands and there's a big company forcing them to do certain things: pretty cliche but it happens in real life so whatever. Oh they're being naughty. Oh, they're being naughty. Right so that's disgusting and deadly, cool. Oh it's growing up and wearing clothes, fine whatever. And now it's attacked a guy, I'm following. Moving out, that all makes sense. This is looking pretty good so far, fairly logical. Ah they're showcasing the first ugly thi- right so that was very bloody and probably means nothing to the plot. Aww the man is warming to the monster thing and they're becoming friends. Aww now the man's penis is becoming fri- no wait what?! Don't do that! Why aren't you more angry, woman?! Now's a good time to be angry! I don't care if it's dead, be angry that you're boyfriend humped the thing! Oh well not dead, who knew? Oh right that thing from before is happening and now the monster is raping her... What?!   Oh right yeah, rape a woman, get stabbed, then in your last moments don't kill the thing that's about to kill you, but kill the guy that showed some degree of compassion for you (in consensual dick form). Ugh, well that was weir- She's what?! Forking hail that's not going to be fun.

If you've seen the film, that probably makes some sense. If not, it probably spoiled a fair bit. I'm not even sorry.

The thing is, and it pains me to say this, it really does, Splice is not a bad film. I've read a few reviews for it and the basic theme is 'average and unambitious'. In regular reviewer speak, that means it's probably not your worth your time. Luckily I'm not constrained by professionalism  or coherency, or the fact that if I say cunt juggling thunder queen I might get fired, so here's the happity haps:

Splice walks around the sleeping behemoth of science in the middle of the room, but it walks very closely and in that gives the impression that they have some idea of what they're talking about. This is necessary, and is very reassuring for any good science fiction *cough*fuckyoumoffat*cough*. Oh sorry, I have this terrible infection where I blurt out names of writers that piss on their own scripts then pat themselves on the back. I'll get over it. Anyway, Splice's apparent confidence in it's subject is enhanced by some very decent effects and makeup, and lessened by some very bad monster sound effects. Although saying that, Splice as a modern film does basically lick at the dried up ocean of past science fiction writers, leeching ideas from Alien and The Fly to name a couple, and so is unsurprisingly cheesy and kind of generic at parts. I wouldn't say it's unambitious though. It does hint at some greater themes like morality in science, and the value of life surrounding topics like human cloning albeit loosely, it just struggles to... y'know, actually reach those goals. It plays it very safe, or as safe as showing a guy having sex with a monster and then the monster raping a woman soon after can play it. They could definitely have done more with the concept, maybe played on the interesting human desires that the creature (Dren is a stupid name) has like clothes, or hair, or love, or sex, but what they did show was very competent.

But you know what I really liked? The ending. It was coarse, not massively surprising but ho hum, implied events that are both dark and sad to think about allowing terror to be imagined in the viewer rather than them get smothered in it, and it was well acted. You could see the broken heart of Elsa, you could see the businesswoman's reluctance to comfort her, you could feel the pity sinking into everyone. It was poignant, and interesting, and that subtlety is something that other writers of the genre seem to be losing track of these days *coughridleyscott*cough*. I guess that infection hasn't cleared up. Huh.

Right, yeah, Splice may be simple and cheesy and a little bit silly at times, but it's definitely licking from the more competent end of the aforementioned dried up lake of creativity. You can see it's seams in the second half where it feels rushed and tries to inject pure horror rather than terror, but it never made me angry despite that. Oh, but by the way, directors really need to learn that a more immersive and, well, scary experience is in terror, it's in the implied, the unseen, it's the whispering behind you in a dark room which could be the wind outside but it sounded eerily like a child saying 'I don't want to be alone'. You want to smother your audiences faces in jump scares or monsters that sit in the middle of a lit up room preparing you elevenses, then whatever, but it's fleeting. Terror sticks, it makes the viewer hesitate to turn off their light at night, just in case, and that is what any horror writer should intend to do.

Sorry, got a little distracted there. Point is, Splice is alright, better than a lot of stuff these days, check it out but don't expect it to change your life.

That phrase again folks: cunt juggling thunder queen.

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If I Fits...

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A Message, And Meows

Fuck it, I'm still gunna post semi-regularly. 

Lately, I've been focusing on getting some writing done (or procrastinating getting some writing done) because it's probably the most productive of all of my hobbies. It does get me into the mindset of writing absolute profound bollocks a lot though, so forgive me if this post is within the category of aforementioned bollocks.

Anyway, when I'm not writing and I think of something interesting, or I see a quote I really like, I jot it down in my notebook and apparently find it weeks later when I've lost all context and so it's stuck in a vacuum of meaninglessness, like... well like an actual vacuum I guess. The point I'm slowly getting at is that there is one quote that has strangely nestled inside my brain for some reason: 'It takes a special kind of person to look up'. No idea where it came from, I almost don't want to know, but it's always seemed strangely true. Like, how often do you actually look up at the sky? How often do you see other people look up? Why do we keep such a honking big part of the world in our periphery?

Since reading that quote ages ago I've tried looking up more, and I'd love to say that it really slows the world down, puts everything into perspective, and surprisingly calms you... so I will: it really slows the world down, puts everything into perspective, and surprisingly calms you. More interesting though, you've gotta wonder how many shooting stars people have missed just because the news didn't tell them to look up for a meteor shower. Oh, and I guess in case anyone thought this blog never had morals: be special and look up once in a while, you might see something spectacular like a cloud shaped like a duck wearing a top hat.

On that note I have three pictures for you because I haven't taken many recently. Firstly, a quick sketch of what that 'duck in a top hat' cloud might look like (I still can't draw, folks!):

Secondly, the failed paint splatter thing that I was trying out. You can see where it has bled under the covering and made a weird effect so I'm not going to finish it :P It did teach me what not to do if I ever do it again so it wasn't a complete waste though:

And finally, a cat picture because this is still the internet:

She woke me up by mewling. I was torn between anger at being woken up and AWWWWW look at the kitty meow!

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Future of Blog: Future of Me

The summer is ostensibly over, and so I have to wonder what exactly I'm going to do with this blog: I started it to make me more productive, and try to force me to find things to do in everyday life that would make for an interesting story. To an extent it did do that, but over time it basically regressed to me ranting about things, making profound statements, and littering your screen with bad jokes.

I don't think those are bad things. 

Considering I did, and still do, post little craft crap I do, as well as ideas and stories, I think I can say the whole thing was a success, so I would like to continue it. Oh, but you know what? Daily updates can be a pain in the arse. SO I'm probably going to post less frequently and keep this as a forum for me to express myself in whatever way I want, when I want. Admittedly I will probably just be moaning, but if you don't like it you can lump it... whatever that means.

Anyway, quick recap of the life and times of me though: uni coming up is both exciting and scary, painting thing could have gone better but I got to flick paint at stuff which was fun, hung out with friends, got a haircut, accidentally said the hairdresser had soft hands (I'm cringing just thinking of that), had to do IT for the house, spending a lot of time outside because it's peaceful, having a cup of tea, doing a lot of basically nothing, and planning to do a lot more of basically nothing in the future. Talk about stuff in detail soon.

XOXO

Ian.

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Comedy, Zombieland, And Why There's Still Hope

I haven't posted in a few days, I'll explain later (it's not exciting). For now, I have to talk about something that's been bugging me for a while: comedy films.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a distinct hatred of Seth Rogan, Judd Apatow, and Jonah Hill because their brand of comedy is essentially screaming DICKS at the top of their lungs until someone laughs, and someone, unfortunately, always laughs. My problem isn't as petty and stupid as that though (*cough*itkindais*cough*). No, my problem is that people keep saying that they don't need good writing, or good acting, or good creative direction, or versatility, or originality, or any good features at all, because they make comedy films. 'A comedy film isn't meant to be taken seriously, it's meant for laughs', 'Oooh, it's parody, it's not meant to be fucking good', 'Oh how did you get into my house and why are you talking about films'. No, no, and this is the only way people listen to my ramblings. 'Comedy' is not, and should never be, a free pass for what any other film would be chastised for. Never. Comedy is a genre that, when done right, can be seen equally to action, or romance, or whatever. The three kings of Talentless Cuntville (pardon my French) mentioned above are ruining that though.

The reason I bring this up is because I just watched Zombieland. It's a comedy film done right because it has good writing, good acting, good pacing, some degree of goddamn subtlety, and offers a versatility of emotion like all other genres try to do. You never see that in the Ambassadors of Unfunny's films. They try to do it occasionally, sure, but they all have the emotional depth of a brick that you've set on fire somehow. Namely because their only sense of emotion is extreme and ultimately bland. Zombieland actually cares about characterising it's fucking characters, which you would think would be a pretty obvious thing to do but apparently fucking not! More importantly though, it doesn't sacrifice anything in giving this variety, or good writing: they offer humour, and genuinely poignant scenes and undertones without having two characters talk about jizzing on each other. 

Okay, it is still me and Zombieland isn't perfect obviously. While it's well written and clever, it does play it pretty safe. It's set in a zombie apocalypse for one, a theme so overused I'm starting to think some government bunker is preparing an apocalypse for some time in the future and demanding that tons of games and films are made about them to prepare everyone in advance like some strange social experiment (who said Sociology wasn't extreme?), but that doesn't bother me too much. The more frustrating thing is that is is quite cheesy and predictable at times, but again it's not a horrible fault. They could do worse things, like have their entire script essentially written by a sentient butthole, butt (HA!) they don't. I could write a proper review for Zombieland, but it hasn't made me angry or annoyed enough to make it in any way entertaining. Instead, it's given me hope for a genre that was on its last leg. Seth Rogan may say that last leg is in fact a gigantic penis of support (fuckinlol), but Seth Rogan also has the mind of a taxidermied hyena.

Oh, and for the record: Emma Stone>Emma Watson.

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there's glass in me sheets

Today was nice and productive: I wrote a review, wrote a couple pages of story, smashed a light bulb over my bed. Wait, what?

Yeeeeeeeah, may have been swatting at an annoying moth and shattered that bulb onto my sheets... I picked up what I could but I think there are still a few little bits, so tonight'll be... cosy...

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Now You See Me - Critical Review (Spoilers, Duh)

A friend of mine wrote a very complimentary review for this film the other day, and being the critic that I am, I just can't let that slide, ya dig? 

Now You See Me is a convoluted tirade of 'modern' magic and how much you can abuse your audience's acceptance of anything you show them. Strangely though, the plot is the lesser of my gripes here because the characters are... well, bad. For a magician film, you need interesting characters that add depth to something that is otherwise just 'look! Lol you were wrong, should've looked there.' We don't get that here, instead we get: the arrogant modern magician who uses classic if simple tricks, the mentalist who uses psychology on a limited and exaggerated scale, the try hard sleight of hand master who just wants respect, and... the woman. Maybe they were making some sort of dramatic, ironic statement on the presence of women in this otherwise male dominated profession, but all I know is that she basically has no overarching role in the grand scheme of things, and is mostly there for sex appeal/ to provide shitty sexual tension between characters that is never explored: don't pick out sub threads for your plot then let them hang there dammit! Anyway, the characters are pretty much 2D. They have no depth, no personality beyond their single sentence summary, and apparently no free will or conscience because they're entirely willing to just do whatever an anonymous hologram tells them to.

So let's get onto that then. Everyone gets invited to a mysterious apartment after the film takes a while showing how everyone has their own brand of skill. They exchange quips in line with their characters, then break in and discover a ridiculously advanced hologram set up, akin to something out of Alien. A monster bursting from someone's chest might have made the whole thing a lot more entertaining honestly, but I digress. Now I personally think performing 90% of the tricks, and stuff like this in the film, by using camera tricks and CGI is a terrible choice that is just done badly here. The Prestige (a better magician film) follows the 'technology improves tricks' thing and obviously uses camera tricks to do it, but they use it sparingly, they actual reference that it is insanely advanced, and it becomes a point of struggle for the characters: almost a physical embodiment of hubris. In Now You See Me, the technology of their tricks is never referenced, is basically impossible in its scale, and is mostly explained by saying WE WANT YOU TO LOOK SOMEWHERE ELSE. Okay, I get it, stop saying it to me every 20 minutes. I have watched this far in, chances are I won't have forgotten. Or maybe the whole, 'be the smartest person in the room' thing is purely from your perspective: you can be banging a brick against your head and drawing stick figure porn on the wall, all while singing 'oh when the saints' as long as YOU believe you're the smartest.

Which I imagine is what the writers were doing when they drew up the stupidstupidstupid car chase scene. There is so much that had to go correct to the second in that scene that it's just impossible. Jack had to fight everyone off within exact time frames, get out of the building, steal the cop car that they couldn't have known would be there, get chased by the agent who only had a car at all because of plot convenience, get onto the bridge at high speed without already crashing, get through the cars until they reach a bus which they couldn't have prepared for without knowing exactly how many cars would be on the road, get ahead of the coach and then immediately take cover behind another car so that the coach can release the car containing the corpse, then the corpse car has to crash in a specificly dramatic way that would result in it exploding. This whole bridge mess was also being watching be a freaking traffic helicopter so the switch was perfectly visible to them anyway. Furthermore, the hospital would definitely think something's up when they lose a cadaver, then one of the most high profile criminals in the worlds (who operates in the same city as the hospital) winds up dead. There would also likely be DNA testing on the fried corpse to confirm the death because surprisingly word of mouth just isn't good enough evidence these days, so the whole thing falls apart at the seams. This is a more convoluted plan than the Joker's in The Dark Knight Rises!

There are a lot of ridiculous plans like this throughout, including the big twist ending where (spoilers) the hulk turns out to be the fifth horseman! Golly, you set up the french woman being the horseman so much then proving her loyalty every time I just couldn't have believed it wasn't her. As far as twists go it's not the best, nor the worst though. The hulk's back story about his father drowning doesn't really adequately set up a life long revenge plot, and really just hints towards serious (dangerous) mental instability. Really, if you spend like 30 years setting up an extravagant  ridiculously expensive plot so that you can make one man go bankrupt and another get tossed in jail, there is something seriously wrong with you. I'd say he was just insane but apparently all the other magicians see the 'island of lost toys'-esque magic junkyard too. If you've read this far you can probably guess my opinion on the ending because it's just as out of place as anything else they've shown so far. 

All of this is frustrating because the acting in the film is actually pretty good. Freeman's character is just as 2D as everyone else's, but he plays the role really well. The direction is pretty darn good too at times, so at least you know they were trying. On the other hand, this whole film could be symbolic of the whole 'never look too closely at magic tricks, let yourself get tricked' thing... On the other hand, fuck no, it's their job to trick me so I'll grab onto those plot holes like a security blanket and smother the writers when they get too smarmy. 

If you just want to watch a kind of interesting film without really thinking about it too much, then I would probably recommend this. It has its moments here and there, and if you can jump over the plot holes then chances are you'll like the film. I imagine it could've been improved by posting a slideshow of the stick figure porn the writers obviously drew while on the job after the film was over, but we can't all get what we want. Of course this film could be totally meta and just be the distraction for a much much better film coming out soon: don't look at the production of a more competently written film, just mindlessly watch this! Hahahaha darn we're clever.

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I feel Like crap: Sue me! (Please don't)

I have a constant headache, I'm kinda detoxing caffeine, I think I'm coming down with a cold, I'm constantly tired so I'm finding it hard to focus, and I'm pretty down possibly because of those things. That means the past couple of days have been slow and unproductive, and that's the best way they could be.

You might have gotten the impression by now that I'm the kind of person who beats themselves up if they don't achieve something during their day, and bingo! Yahzee! We have a winner! because you, sir/madam, would be right. However, I know that I need to relax sometimes as well, and whenever I'm ill I have to tussle with my unproductivity guilt just as an aged man would tussle with getting dressed: slowly, feebly, and a little bit pityingly, but he gets there in the end.

On the subject of productivity though, and this is purely a stream of consciousness reflection thing, I'm really quite lax when it comes to schoolwork.. or anything important really. I mean, it gets done of course, but I procrastinate and cut corners all over the place, yet whenever I set myself a personal goal, I beat myself up until it gets done. Luckily, being successful is a personal goal though, so at least I've got the whip to my back on that. I dunno, this paragraph doesn't have a conclusion really, it's more of an explanation as to why you get to hear my crass rants about how shit films are, and get to see my vague attempts at art rather than hear fun facts about smarter topics...

You know that reminds me of a fun fact: there was a recent psychology study on procrastination in university students. The sample was split into two groups (group A, and group B *cough*duh*cough*) and each group was given three weeks to write three essay assignments. Group A were told they could hand their assignments in at any time in that period as long as it was in that period, while group B were told they have to provide one essay per week. Group B were less happy about it, who can blame them, but got the job done and got good grades. Group A, the buggers, didn't hand their assignments in until the end of the three weeks, and ultimately received lower grades. The lesson to take away is that giving yourself strict deadlines, and breaking up your workload into manageable chunks, is a good way to beat procrastination :)

Oh crap, I'm off topic... uh uhm, I'm trying not to feel about about not getting stuff done, hopefully I'll be better soon, and... uh... warm milk is nice?

*Sigh* I think I'm getting worse at this.

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TARDIS, Aloof Giant Love, And A Chess Pun

Party thing yesterday, you know the drill. This is a very picture based post anyhoo.

First up: the TAPE-DIS, which is my personal favourite of these things so far:

I also did the creative writing game thing and got the horrible mix of 'Romance', 'giant', and 'aloof', Sooooo I wrote a sonnet about one giant in love with another, distant, giant:

The human lands bring only fear and hate: They try to hunt us down, scared of our might. But in that torment it is love that they create, In their hunt, they brought you into my sight! Now we lay in cave so dark and quiet, Is there a feeling better than your kiss? But while you're the key of my meat based diet, I sometimes wonder if you share my bliss? Love making literally shakes the ground, But you never meet my eyes when we do. 'I love you', from your lips, never does sound: You never hold me, and leave when I hold you.           But I'll stay and hope, even if you're no longer romantic:           I'll remember that our love was once no less than gigantic!

The less said about that the better.

My sister also returned from a trip to Egypt and brought me two really cool chess sets. One is a magnetic travel one, and one is the more traditional .. non-travel one. Unfortunately said non-travel one is missing a single bloody pawn which really sucks :(

I guess you could say that this post was.. inter-chess-ting HAHA!

I'll show myself out...

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Self Doubt Is Bad: Happy Dog Is Watching

Met a cool person today, exchanged numbers. This is how the world turns round.

But that's not interesting, nor is the thing I'm about to talk about but by jove am I gunna talk about it anyway! 

So I was looking through the list of societies for uni, just trying to pick out ones that I might be interested in today. There are a lot of options, and they all seem really awesome. A couple of definites so far would be the Psychology Society because, well, it's appropriate, and the Creative Writing Society because I would really really like to improve my style and get proper feedback from people. The Hide and Seek society is a definite maybe, and the Pole Dancing society is up there as long as they supply me with alcohol.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because I wanted you to picture me pole dancing... No, wait, I'll try again. The reason I bring this up is because I had a massive creativity explosion after reading the details of the writing soc. and, I wanted to try my hand at a few little page long stories in various styles to challenge myself and see how flexible I can be... aaaand suddenly we're back to pole dancing. Anyway! My aim for tomorrow is to pick a genre at random, and two flavour words at random and see whatever I can make from that. So an example might be 'fairytale' - 'nightmarish' 'obese' (done with an actual random word generator, those aren't just the things that pop to my head). SO I guess that'd be a story about an ogre, or some fattening spell or something... You get the idea.

A problem I have often though, and I know a lot of artists of whatever ilk experience the same thing, is that sometimes I really just hate what I do. There are times when I read through something that I've written and just want to burn it up in the flames of obscurity, and just never write again. Ever. This had been an especially big problem in the longer novel-ish story thing because... well, I guess because it's more of a commitment. With short stories you can just speed them out and if you're not happy you can never look at them again, but with this I'm constantly worried about consistency of writing and keeping it interesting and blahblahblahblablablablah. This story game thing ultimately serves two practical purposes for me: it lets me have a little break from the longer piece (even though I do love it), and it gives me a less committed practice tool to get me through the points of self doubt. 

Overall I guess my main messages for today would be: if you're an artist, do your thang as often as possible, even when you think you suck (especially when you think you suck), and sometimes talking to strangers is okay.

Also, if you ever feel alone, just know that happy cute dog is glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

If you read this thing for less profound messages though: cheese on toast is forever amazing.

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Tired So Let's Make it Snappy

Hung out with friends, watched a couple of films.

Friends: awesome.

21 Jump Street: not awesome. I don't imagine anyone would want to read an actual review for it though, so I won't write one.

10/10, would do again.

Sweet dreams.

XOXO, Ian.

P.S. my friend's dog is awesomely cute!

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Slow Day so... R-R-R-R-R-RIDDLE R-R-R-R-REDUX!!!! (Slightly Trickier)

Woman, age 62, found dead in her cottage by sole relative. The woman had 23 cats who lived in and around the house. All seemed cared for, but all were far too close to their natures: the body was on the floor by the kitchen table as if she had collapsed, but most of the flesh of her face, neck, and upper shoulders, as well as one of her hands, had been eaten away by the animals she cared for, and the rest of her body was in an advanced state of decay. Roughly by the corpses hand was a tin of open cat  food. We are struggling to determine an actual cause of death because of the post-mortem damage. There is evidence of a deep cut in her other hand, but it had bandages draped over the decaying flesh that seemed to have been on her for at least a week before her death. Our autopsy showed her stomach contents to contain porridge, fruits, and chunks of meat, but we have decided that choking is unlikely. We have found no evidence of brain damage or aneurysms that may have caused sudden death, and the house doesn't appear to be broken into, so murder is unlikely too. We also interviewed the relative who found the deceased, but the only information they could give is that the old woman never left the house, and had them deliver several months worth of supplies to her every so often. These consisted of mainly tinned foods and oats, as well as tinned cat food. Occasionally they also bought clothes, and crossword books as well. The last delivery was four months ago, and the estimated time of death was around two months ago.

Was the woman murdered?

If so, how?

If not, how else could she have died?

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The Number 23 - It Shits On Your Chest and is Proud Of It!

I watched The Number 23 today and justified it by saying it was research for a story. I expected a thrilling and thought provoking journey of mathematics and trends, but instead got a loose narrative with more plot holes than that film Shia Lebouf was in.

If you didn't know, The Number 23 is a story about a man who has the dumb so badly that he becomes horrifically paranoid, and then he kills someone for reasons mostly unrelated to his paranoia of, you guessed it, the number 23. In this film, the number apparently has sentience and picked out our protagonist (unfittingly casted as Jim Carrey) from its 'to shit all over list' and decided to, and I quote, 'haunt' him. He makes mathematical leaps and assumptions, with inconsistent patterns of calculation to realise that everything in his life is plagued by that ghastly number. One of the best examples of this is when he looks at the clock at *gasp* quarter past 2! They do this several times throughout the film, but admittedly THE HANDS ARE POINTING TO A TWO AND A THREE OHMIGODWTFBBQ!!!111! Another, stupid, example is when a character... *sigh* this just upsets me... a character says this:

"Pink is my favorite color. Do you know what pink is? Red 27, white 65 - 65 plus 27, 92 - 'Pink' has four letters - 92 divided by four, twenty-fucking-three!" 

It's contrived, and stupid, and is a method never used again in the movie, and is stupid. Yes, I used 'stupid' twice, but if it is the theme the writers wanted to pick, you have to excuse my use of it.

Anyway, the whole thing goes on a tirade about hunting down a killer through the numbers. At one point the main character visits their prime suspect in prison and, and this is hilarious, decides they're innocent because the letters in their name don't result in '23' in whatever ridiculous way they could think of. This is especially stupid as the protagonist admits when first finding about the numbers that he has to use his middle name to make it work, but hell, if the law is that easy maybe I'm following the wrong career aspirations! Eventually they discover through a series of ridiculous events that the killer was in fact the main guy, who murdered because his girlfriend was angry that he was focusing on a number instead of their wild sex life so went and shagged a professor. The guy tries to kill himself because FUCKNUMBERSCARYAHHHHH but fails and the head trauma from jumping out of what I'm pretty sure was the second floor (first floor for any American readers) caused complete amnesia of the crime. This meant that the professor his gal was cheating on got arrested for circumstantial evidence, while he couldn't confess or whatever. In the 11 years it took him to find out about the past, the number had... *sigh* it had attached itself to someone else and ruined their life or something. You could tell that by the fact that they were dirty, had a scraggly beard, and stabbed themselves in the neck when they saw Jim Carrey. They also had a P.O. box though, so at least even the homeless can keep up with their responsibilities. The film ends by him turning himself in, giving some stupid speech about justice, then noticing 23 hadn't 'let him go'.

Isn't it funny that when he wasn't thinking about the number, it didn't affect him? Then when he wanted to see patterns, suddenly he was a killer with serious mental problems? Then his wife stole an entire skeleton from a freshly dug grave within a minute and without leaving any traces of evidence? Wait, what?!

There are a lot more stupid (word of the day, folks) moments throughout the film, but I can't be arsed to list them. To the films credit though, it does have some decent camera work and some genuinely good direction at a few (small) spots... It's just a shame the writers decided to shit on your chest then stride around the room for an hour and a half with a smug smile on their faces, as if they were the pinnacle of wit.

Wait...

Ian

I=9, A=1, N=14...

14 x 1 + 9 =...

AAAAAHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[getstuffdone]

A Play Review - Les Mis

Last night, I went to see a play, the night before I attempted to go out drinking with friends and went home injured. I don't really want to elaborate on that second one.

  Instead, humour me for a few minutes while I pretend to be all cultured like and review a play performed by Act Now. For those that don't know, Act Now is a performing arts academy that provides acting experience and skills to people. The play I saw was Les Mis by the 'The Biz' group, a group of 9 - 19 year olds, who learned, practiced and performed the entire show within two weeks. Two weeks. You'd think that time frame and a low budget would be a huge detriment to quality, but the actual performance just blew me away so you'd be damn wrong. Admittedly I've never seen the play done professionally, but I have seen the film a bunch of times and heard the 10th anniversary CD, so I figure that gives me authority enough to talk about it...

For example, and this is a completely random example considering how much good was in this performance, the Gavroche in the Act Now performance was much better than the film version because he actually had and maintained tune. Fancy that in a musical! Unfortunately there are three actors listed in the program so I have no idea which I saw. It's the same case for young Cossette, who also gave a fantastic performance by the way, so I may have to edit this when I actually know. There were so many more brilliant stars and brilliant voices on the stage though and It'd take ages to list all of them but some of the best for me were Darius Huime as Valjean with his fantastic voice, Robin Mauder who was a perfect fit for Javert (he also got injured during a fight scene but no one knew until the end of the performance: that's suffering for your art), Anna Fordham as Fantine who showed incredible emotion on top of having a great voice, Tom Dalby as the confident and powerfully voiced Enjolras, Beth Hartless as Prouvaire who not only has an amazing singing voice but a unique one, Adam Gower who consistently stood out even in ensembles in both stage presence and singing ability, and Solomon Manney who gave an interesting and unique sense of character to the already jokey Thenardier. Even in the ensembles there were singers that stood out as having incredible talent, but they're significantly harder to name for obvious reasons which is a damn shame. There were even several cases where songs actually brought a tear to my eye, which even the film failed to do (not that it wasn't good obviously).

I like to play the critic a lot, I can't deny that, but everything worked so well together in this small production that I genuinely can't make any constructive points without just nit picking. Everyone involved sung incredibly and I'd list absolutely every single one if I could, the staging and direction made good use of limited space, the live music was brilliantly done, everyone seemed comfortable in their roles and acted amazingly, the time frame made this whole thing even more impressive, and props were simple but effective given budget which just allowed you to focus on and enjoy the singing more anyway. Even more impressive for me alone is that this is the second time I've seen this Act Now group perform, the other was Sweeney Todd, and between the two plays the actors offer a great versatility and change between their singing voices that a lot of adult actors struggle to do. On top of all that still, I stayed behind and helped out with packing away after the play with a friend who is/was in the group, and all of them are genuinely lovely people. Admittedly they're all really good actors so I could have the entirely wrong impression though. This was also probably the only time I'll see a group of actors in a play called back for an encore, and then see them actually doing it.

Anyone in this performance could go on to try and follow a career in performing (some are already!) and each and every would be (and I'm sure will be) a boon for the profession.