If you saw my response over here, you’ll know what this post is about.
The big idea:
This would entail the pages to be printed full-bleed, and I’m sure it would give people a headache if they tried to read a full book printed this way. Damn. It was such a good idea when I had it.
Nevermind.
Filed under: Over The Line, writing | Tagged: experiment, images, writing forms, writing ideas | Leave a Comment »
Most (if not all) writers would like to think they are able to conjure the unlikeliest of outlandish plots, dialogue and artifacts, and then insert them into their work so well as to obscure the ridiculous nature of such things. But… Real life (as is always the case) is stranger then any fiction. There are very good reasons why the phrase “You couldn’t make it up” exists. No matter how strange the things we invent an industrious idiot will have managed to do it first. We’re always at least three or four steps behind the wave of monstrous stupidity which is unique to our species. You only ever have to remember one thing when you are trying to weave fiction that is believable:
It’s already been done.
Not only has it been done, it’s probably been done a few times. Pulling a Stretch Armstrong doll until it bursts? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Going over Niagara Falls in a barrel? Wow, a bit behind the times, aren’t you. Checking to see if the room really is too small to swing a cat? Don’t even think about it…
Some of my favorite books are non-fiction, but they read like fiction. They contain the stuff that would make great storytelling if it wasn’t for the annoying fact that they were real. Take a look at the Darwin Awards if you think a plot twist (which sends a character to an untimely end) is too far-fetched. Whatever the means for dispatching a character, there is someone who has shuffled off this mortal coil in a similar manner. The awards are a litmus test for any OTT element wherein a character is killed in a manner that feels too outrageous to be believed. People can display incredible ingenuity in killing themselves.
Here’s a story from The Fortean Times Book Of More Strange Deaths which illustrates this point:
PASTOR Michael Davis, of the Larose Christian Fellowship Church in Louisiana, finished his sermon, stripped down to his bathing trunks, exhorted the faithful to prepare for rebirth and stepped into the pool where he intended to baptise a dozen of his flock. Unfortunately, his microphone was badly earthed; the resulting explosion left the pastor floating belly up and melted the microphone.
How can I compete with that?
And if you think that you would be safe making up a comedy epitaph to go on a gravestone in your story, you might want to take a look at some real ones out there. From Awful Ends: The British Museum Book Of Epitaphs by David M. Wilson:
Here lies the body of John Shine,
Who was no Jew for he ate swine;
He was no Papist for he had no merit;
He was no Quaker for he had no spirit;
For forty years he lived and lied,
For which God damned him as he died.
There’s nothing I could make up that would even come close…
And it continues through every other aspect of life. Coincidences? There was a story a while back about two guys who had worked their entire lives together finding out they were brothers. That would be laughed at in fiction, but in real life? It is treated as a feel-good story, regardless of how cliché it is. ‘Predictable’ is looked at so differently in fiction that I’m almost tempted to use the above as a continuation on my argument that real life isn’t represented properly in fiction.
If real life was to interrupt every aspect of fiction, then we would be writing soap operas rather than anything meaningful. Wait. Did I just insult everyone working in soap operas? Sorry. I meant to insult every soap opera except Dark Shadows, because at least that had an excuse.
Filed under: Over The Line, writing | Tagged: dark shadows, darwin awards, fortean times, plot, real life, soap operas, the british museum | 5 Comments »
Here are some things I know about Tiger Woods:
Here are some things – because of the censorship of the UK media – which I now suspect:
See? When you try to block information, I jump to the worst possible scenario. Before the media blackout on information regarding the sportsman, when he was just another boring golfer, I really didn’t pay him much attention at all. Now that there is a scandal, he’s fast becoming a possible O.J. Simpson mk. II in the eyes of the British public. Face it, when a black American sports star is involved in a scandal, there are far, far more pressing matters to deal with than getting some lawyers to shut the press up. If he’s innocent of any serious crimes, and there are some very dark rumors flying around at the moment, then he should have the stones to let the story be told.
Only someone with secrets to hide bring out lawyers.
Tiger hasn’t been very bright about his handling of this mess, and as he is fast becoming the golfing world’s answer to Kim Kardashian there are bound to be even more lurid and disturbing things muttered about what he was up to. I’m not sure if he was pressured into the legal silence, but it tarnishes anything left of his once-good reputation…
Be a man, Tiger. Tell the lawyers your story can be told.
If anything, the thought of another hilarious tragic downfall of a sports star being broadcast endlessly is one which I really don’t look forward to. You would think that seeing the unfolding drama of a hero-to-small-children might contain moments of interest, though I ain’t even vaguely interested. It’s the information blackout which is the real story here. Anyways, enjoy the pic.
Just in case anyone thinks I’m ragging on Tiger, I’m not. ‘Kay. The irony will be lost on some readers, I’m sure, but the point I’m making is simple:
Thankyouverymuch.
Filed under: Misc., Over The Line | Tagged: anti-censorship, media messages, sports, tiger woods, kim kardashian, censorship, sporting scandal | 3 Comments »
A recent post at Merrilee Faber’s blog, where you’ll discover the reason why she’s grinning like a loon, put me in mind of a story which has been told and re-told over the years. I’m a big fan of Humphrey Bogart, and there is a tale concerning the car journey on the way to his (only) Oscar win, which bears repeating for the benefit of the kids who have never seen any of his movies. Impossible as it seems, there are people who have gone through their lives having never seen Bogey in action – it ain’t your fault kids, I know how lacking the modern literature on the cinema truly is.
So, the story starts a ways before the big Oscar night, with Humphrey being his usual disdainful self about the awards. Even back then there were folks who saw it as a hollow and gaudy affair, and he loved playing up his tough-guy image. His remarks, not all of which have survived, ran the usual gamut of “I don’t care if I win” to “Why the Hell would anyone waste a vote on me.” Some people would probably blanche at the idea of dismissing one of Hollywood’s few saving graces, but Bogey was a rock star before there were such things. I hand you over to Richard Brooks telling of events from the biography Bogart, picking up the tale in the limo on the way to the ceremony:
It was [Richard] Brooks who broke the silence. “Well, Bogie, when you win the award, what are you going to say?” He said, “I’m not going to win, I don’t want to talk about it, all right? I said, ‘You never know. They don’t give you an aisle seat for nothing.’ He said, “Brando is going to win it, now will you, for Christ’s sake, stop talking about it! Cut it out!’ So we drove in silence again for a while. Finally Nunnally [Johnson] said, ‘Bogie, the guy is trying to help you. How do you know? Let’s just say you’re not to be chosen, but if you are–what are you going to say?’ He said, ‘I don’t know! I’m not going to say anything! There’s nothing for me to say.’
“So,” Brooks continued, “Nunnally asked me, ‘What would you have him say?’ Bogie’s looking out the window, he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s very nervous. I said, ‘You see, they name the five nominees, and the woman is going to say: “And the winner is…” And when she calls your name, like everybody else you’re going to jump out of your goddamn seat, you’re going to run down the aisle, you’re going to run up on stage, you’re going to kiss her and she’ll kiss you–and then you’ll start to thank every son of a bitch in this town, and then you’ll cry and all of that crap. And that’s what you must not do!
“The first thing you do, they call your name, you get up! And you walk down the aisle. Do not run! You get up on stage, don’t run to kiss the broad! They hand you the Oscar. And this is where the acting comes in, Bogie. You look at the Oscar. You look out at the audience over the Oscar’s head. And you wait for a whole minute. Now it’s going to seem like a year. You wait for one minute. Or as long as you can. Say nothing. Then: here’s your speech: “Well–it’s about time.” And walk off the stage.’
I first heard that, or a similar telling, in a documentary about Bogart. I always loved his films, and the “fuck you’ to Hollywood implicit in that moment was on a par with Brando’s later snub. The thing is… Bogey never gave that speech. He bottled it at the last moment, giving in to the excitement and hysteria which winning a piece of badly sculpted, gold-plated crap can bring. That four word speech has long been a favorite of mine, and I fully intend to use it if I win something cool. Maybe I wouldn’t have the balls to use it at something important like the Hugo’s, but at the Oscars? Fuck ‘em. If I win an Oscar, I’m stealing that line.
Kirsten is the latest blogger to do a meme on their book of the year (Ben did a good one too), but I can’t say that anything I have picked up in the last year has impressed me as much as a non-fiction book about comics. It’s sacrilege, I know, but The Essential Guide To World Comics by Tim Pilcher and Brad Brooks has left a serious impression on me. I’ve already been picking up some manga, and have quite a few Diabolik issues now, but there is so much that I want to own having seen the extent of good comics. It may be four years old, but having only got my hands on it a couple of months ago, it has gone straight to the top of my favorites list. That is how good it is. Seriously, if you have no idea about comics, you need to own this book.
For fiction… In the last year… Umm… How about I go for the completely obvious, because I really can’t be bothered checking the title pages of the titles lying around here to get the date of first publication. Generation A by Douglas Copeland is sitting within arm’s reach, and it has a very bright cover. Maybe I’m voting it my book of the year because it’s so bright you can’t miss it, but it does have a very clever story to tell, so don’t take my apathy as meaning anything. The book is awesome. Go read.
Filed under: Misc., Over The Line | Tagged: academy award, awards, book of the year, books, douglas copeland, generation a, humphrey bogart | Leave a Comment »
There are always threads on forums about which music people would like played at their funeral. It’s a universal constant, and – as sure as night follows day – someone bringing up Robbie Williams’ Angels as a perfect song for a funeral is similarly predictable. It’s kind of a game, waiting to see how many posts it will take before it gets mentioned, and at the same time is so very, very uninspiring. I get depressed when someone mentions it now, because it has become the song by which so many people think is suitable for matches and dispatches. You’re only gonna get one funeral, so you might as well have something invested in the occasion.
Me? I’ve been planning my funeral since I was sixteen. Seriously. Women, stereotypically, spend a large part of their adolescence preparing for their big day, but I’ve while they were picking the perfect dress and choosing the absolutely best meals possible, I’ve been thinking about the kind of send-off I would like. It’s not, as some might think, as morbid and sombre as occasion as it is represented in some cultures, and should be a day when the real personality of the departed should shine through like a beacon. Being so serious about the day would go against everything I do, and it would be hollow and fake to present myself (in death) as if I was a saint.
There have been many funerals I’ve attended where I wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. The kind of funerals where the speeches are delivered in a robotic monotone, and where people weep in near-silence. Gimme a fuckin’ break. Those are horrible. Those are the kind of funerals where I wish I was dead, just so I didn’t have to be there, and getting drunk is rarely a sensible option. Which is the entire thinking behind my plans for the perfect funeral. It’s simply a matter of wanting people to enjoy a day out, rather than be forced to confront the possibility that one day they too might have a boring-ass funeral where people checked their watches every three or four minutes.
I want there to be theatre, I want there to be music, I want there to be fun. I’ll lay out a brief glimpse of my (current) draft, in the hopes that the funeral of the next person I have to attend isn’t as suck-ass as most.
First off there has to be a procession. I don’t care if they are seen as old-fashioned, because I like the idea of a bunch of people walking to the grave. Maybe a hundred people, dressed in long black robes with their heads bowed. A slow, steady pace. From out of nowhere, near the back of the crowd, a harlequin-dressed dwarf will run through the mourners to the front of the procession, where he will do a dance. This is going to be the cue for a bunch of trumpeters mixed in with the procession to begin playing Entrance Of The Gladiators by Julius Fučík. Yes, the circus song. At the same time, fire-eaters would throw off their robes to reveal bright multicolored costumes and fill the sky with flame.
I’ve thought about this a lot. There should be stilt-walkers, clowns, and acrobats. There should be fun. There should also be readings of literature in the mix as well. I’m particularly fond of the following piece, taken from Wordsworth:
What a shock
For eyes and ears! what anarchy and din,
Barbarian and infernal,–a phantasma,
Monstrous in colour, motion, shape, sight, sound!
Below, the open space, through every nook
Of the wide area, twinkles, is alive
With heads; the midway region, and above,
Is thronged with staring pictures and huge scrolls,
Dumb proclamations of the Prodigies;
With chattering monkeys dangling from their poles,
And children whirling in their roundabouts;
With those that stretch the neck and strain the eyes,
And crack the voice in rivalship, the crowd
Inviting; with buffoons against buffoons
Grimacing, writhing, screaming,–him who grinds
The hurdy-gurdy, at the fiddle weaves,
Rattles the salt-box, thumps the kettle-drum,
And him who at the trumpet puffs his cheeks,
The silver-collared Negro with his timbrel,
Equestrians, tumblers, women, girls, and boys,
Blue-breeched, pink-vested, with high-towering plumes.–
All moveables of wonder, from all parts,
Are here–Albinos, painted Indians, Dwarfs,
The Horse of knowledge, and the learned Pig,
The Stone-eater, the man that swallows fire,
Giants, Ventriloquists, the Invisible Girl,
The Bust that speaks and moves its goggling eyes,
The Wax-work, Clock-work, all the marvellous craft
Of modern Merlins, Wild Beasts, Puppet-shows,
All out-o’-the-way, far-fetched, perverted things,
All freaks of nature, all Promethean thoughts
Of man, his dulness, madness, and their feats
All jumbled up together, to compose
A Parliament of Monsters. Tents and Booths
Meanwhile, as if the whole were one vast mill,
Are vomiting, receiving on all sides,
Men, Women, three-years’ Children, Babes in arms.
If you’ve got to go out, at least go out in style… Right?
Filed under: Misc., Over The Line | Tagged: death, funeral, mortality, music, plans, preparation, theatre, william wordsworth | Leave a Comment »
My television, however, is still FUBAR. Which means that I had to start my Secret Blog Project (down in the blogroll to the right) with a review of an old book I had lying around. There are enough reviews already written that I’m not too worried about the lack of a television at the moment, but if I need to re-watch some DVDs to freshen my memory of them… Well, I’m pretty much screwed.
Here’s another Transformers pic. I swear, this is the last of them for now.
Filed under: Misc., Over The Line | Tagged: blogging, deadpool, television, Transformers, world of comic adaptations | Leave a Comment »
Christmas, huh? It makes people go completely nuts, and for what?
I ventured forth onto the high street yesterday, and was amazed to see the town crawling with people. It was almost a scene out of a zombie flick, with the mindless husks of former people shuffling along towards their ultimate goal. Not brains, thank fuck, but cheap crap. They pile their shopping trolleys full of the nastiest, most foul food they can find, the worst DVD’s they can get their hands on – just because a Uwe Boll DVD is only £1.99, doesn’t mean it’s any better than at full price – and expect the hole in their soul will be filled thanks to excessive and idiotic purchasing.
Wrong. Filing the hole deep in your essence is what cocaine is for.
I hate Christmas, especially because of the universe’s fun and games at my expense. Want to play along, and see who has the worst luck at this time of year? Fine. Let me start with a minor annoyance and work my way up to full-on cataclysm as this post progresses.
The minor annoyance is the television. Or, rather, the beige box which used to be a television, but which is now an oversized paperweight. It started acting strange on Wednesday, which was – not unsurprisingly – two weeks to the day that the five-year guarantee ran out. It made a wheezing sound, then had a fit of some kind. The sound, thereafter, was out of synch with the visuals. It continued on for a while, but the signs were obvious – it was on life support, and fading fast. When I switched it on this morning I was presented with a black screen and the sound of a mouse caught in the back of the television.
Squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-
Loud enough to make me spill my coffee down the front of my shirt, and setting me off on a bad mood from which no amount of swearing and stomping around will bring me out of. It’s almost as if they make the damn things so that they are designed to break after they fall out of guarantee. What is it with Goodmans televisions anyway? This is the second one I’ve got my hands on, and they seem to self-destruct at an alarming rate. The first, which was dead on arrival, obviously came from the “no refund” pile at the back of the store, but luckily I bought the five-year plan. All was sorted, and the replacement arrived within two weeks.
I’m sure they stack televisions in piles according to when they expire, because they always manage to stay operational until the moment that they are no longer covered by insurance. It’s a pain in the ass, especially since I now have to contend with the yahoo’s running around trying to get all of their Christmas shopping done at the last possible moment. Thank you Goodmans. Now, if I could only work out how to hook up my Freeview box to my computer monitor…
But that isn’t the best part of my week.
It turns out that the job I was expecting to waltz into again is no longer there for me. Which means that my non-existent savings will have to stretch further than ever before, adding pressure to my already maxed-out credit card. I knew that there was the possibility that there would be a reshuffle within the company due to the economic climate, but this came straight out of the blue. I was promised a position by someone who no longer works there, so I’m not gonna make a scene.
Even better…
My brother called and told me that his apartment manager has given him a two month notice. Over Christmas, when everything is closed, it will be impossible to get a place set up. It appears I may have him, his SO, and their kid coming to stay for an unspecified length of time at some point in January. Fucking marvelous. I want my family to feel that my door is always open to them, but I never expected any of them would be foolish enough to accept my implied invitation. The timeframe for this event is worryingly vague, and I have the feeling that there may not be enough time to hide all of my first editions, rare comics, and enough DVDs to open a Blockbusters. Everyone knows what kids are like, and my niece isn’t getting anywhere near my Gold Key collection…
It’s below zero here. There is a layer of ice on the windows, and the garden is covered in a blanket of frost. My television is dead, I have no job, there are family members coming to stay, and I haven’t slept in three days. I can’t think of a better excuse to ban this ridiculous holiday immediately.
Bah, humbug…
Filed under: Over The Line | Tagged: dvds, misery, television, uwe boll, christmas, family, goodmans, job | Leave a Comment »
I had thought that I’d seen every sick and twisted Transformers image on the web, but I was wrong. Perverts obviously have much more imagination and creativity than I give them credit for, so – after an exhaustive five minute search of weird shit – I present two more examples of the neverending Transformers gallery of weirdness.
And while I’m at it, here’s something for the Star Wars kids to get upset over:
Filed under: Misc., Over The Line | Tagged: 4chan, images, optimus prime, pictures, religion, robots bumping uglies, star wars, Transformers | Leave a Comment »
There’s always something going on, and it can be hard to remain focused on what I’m meant to be doing, so I thought I would share some of the things which have been bubbling under the surface and are almost ready to begin work on properly. This does, of course, mean I am taking on yet more commitments, though I have enough material stashed away to prevent them overwhelming me. Hopefully. I can’t guarantee that things will go smoothly, but I can guarantee that there will be a wealth of information available from my archives very soon. Both of the not-quite-ready blogs I am getting ready to add to my blogroll are going to be based around reviews and associated material.
The first of the blogs will appear at some point in the next week or so, with the second added when I get the chance to dig out the reference work I have been gathering for the last few years. The addition of two new blogs doesn’t mean that I’ll be ignoring this slice of insanity on a regular basis, nor does it mean that the book blog will be pushed to one side. If anything, the addition of two new blogs will allow me to put more material online than at present. It will also allow me to cover material I haven’t yet taken the opportunity to spend any time thinking about, adding links throughout all of the blogs to tie everything together in one meta-blog. Did I just come up with a brand new term? Quite possibly…
I have considered adding a fifth blog to the weekly duties, specifically centered on artwork I like, though that might wait a while. Diluting my free time with things to do is part of my attempts to keep busy while everyone else is asleep, ’cause the insomnia is really beginning to affect the way I spend my time. It really isn’t healthy to spend so much time arguing with the radio and causing mayhem around the net. I need constructive work to keep my idle hands from giving the devil work to do – or something.
I’ll finish up here with another pic which I like.
I didn’t draw it, so the blame can’t be pinned on me.
Filed under: Misc., Over The Line, writing | Tagged: blogging, geek, ideas, images, insomnia, projects, research, Transformers | Leave a Comment »
