The Graveyard

The Lair Of Gary James

Posts Tagged ‘pop culture’

Interview With My MC – Bellamy

Posted by BigWords on March 24, 2010

With apologies to Query Tracker

C’mere. I have to ask you a few questions, and – well, I know you’re busy defending the world and everything, but could you please sit still for a few minutes while I run through this list of questions? This wasn’t my idea, but I need you to play along, okay? It’ll only take a minute or two, I swear. You can go beat someone up, or open a doorway to a parallel universe, or have sex with an alien, or whatever, just as soon as we’re done here… I really need you cooperation right now.
Firstly, how old are you?

Bellamy: Older than the hills, dear boy. Delicious, isn’t it – the final line of defense for our great nation, and I need to run off to take a piss every five minutes. That new chap in the big chair – well, it needs to be rather large to accommodate his girth, doesn’t it – jolly old boy tried to close down our little neck of the woods. I remember Heath trying the same thing. You do know that he was killed and replaced with a fapper from Broadmoor, don’t you. Bloody good days. I’ve been around so long that the fresh intakes all call me Mother for some reason, cheeky little scamps that they are. There was a Yank, back in the seventies, who had been cut out to dry by his agency… Always called me the old man, even back then. They found his suitcase, the only possession he had, floating in the Thames in ’82 or ’83 I think.

If the house burned down, what one thing would you want to take with you?

Bellamy: Oh, that is a splendid question. What would I take? I suppose I should say my medals, but those are all hush-hush, so it wouldn’t matter to anyone if they vanished forever. There wasn’t even a ceremony. The one thing I would miss more than any other would be the rhino-horn dildo which the lovely Mr. Chirac gave me for preventing France from being overrun by those damnable… Oh, but I have said too much already. Occupational hazard, old boy. Other than that delicious item, I would probably take my Walther PPK. I took that firearm off a MI6 agent whom I beat him senseless. Brund? Bland? His name doesn’t matter any more I suppose, not after that incident with the Sheik.

Describe your hands.

Bellamy: My hands? Oh, you’re a finger man… (Bellamy slips off his gloves) These have been in more people than I care to mention. I try to take care of them, moisturizer, lubricant, the occasional nail varnish, but saving the world takes a terribly toll on personal grooming. Ectoplasm plays havoc with the pores, same with the temporal ah… timey-wimey stuff. A friend tried to explain the reason, but that disappeared in that ridiculous blue confabulation of his before he told me where he gets his grooming products from. His arse is the smoothest I have ever seen on a grown man – human or not.

Describe your nightstand, dresser, or bathroom counter. What’s on top of it? In it?

Bellamy: Well, on my nightstand is the usual accouterments of a well-to-heel gentleman about town, I suppose. Along with my personal firearm, a few compromising photographs of minor royals, my mobile telephone. Bernie sent me a scale model from the British Rocket Group, one of their more phallic designs. Chap knows how to keep his friends amused.

What is your favorite food?

Bellamy: Now, now… Choosing one delicacy over another is unthinkable. I indulge in all hedonistic pleasures. Oysters and shrimps, my dear, oysters and shrimps. (grins as he wipes his mouth with a handkerchief) One meal which stands out above all others was a night in Litchfield… I was there tasked with securing the remains of the angel buried beneath, but such trifles are irrelevant… I shared a meal with delectable Miss Knight. The taste of heaven upon my lips. And hers, later on, I like to imagine.

Describe your economic/political status.

Bellamy: Economics and politics is subjective, so I tend to manipulate whatever movements are beneficial to the greater picture. I must admit to my share of missteps, first and foremost being the conflagration with the EU. I didn’t realize my small steps would bankrupt Iceland, or cause such terrible, terrible harm to Greece. Whenever people describe the world in such solid terms, as they are wont to do in the case of currency and politics, there is the undeniable feeling that grand plans are utterly ignored in favor of simplicity. There are more things in Devon and Okell, as they say. I favor the notion that reality is what we make it. For some that is literally true, but I keep clear of the queerer chaps and chapesses. Ex-men indeed.

Where do you have a scar or birthmark? Describe circumstances surrounding your scars.

Bellamy: I am a tapestry of pain, dear child, a tapestry of pain. I don’t intend to bore you with the details…

What is the last book you read? What did you think of it?

Bellamy: The most recent manuscript to fall into my possession was Bertie’s diary. Such a sad and sordid tale, chronicling his fall from power, and that Wallis woman… If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that his tales of black magic and ceremonies were the scribblings of a madman. He gets some details wrong – It wasn’t, for instance, Rasputin who opened the Westminster seal, but a mediocre magician named Malvoisin. So useless he trapped himself in a mirror, or at least that’s how the story goes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned himself into a eunuch with those gibberings of his… But back to the point at hand – Bertie’s penmanship was beyond question, especially in the paragraphs where he elucidated on his nocturnal emissions.

Do you have an embarrassing habit?

Bellamy: Don’t we all?

Give one vivid memory of a parent or parental figure.

Bellamy: I can only remember fragments of my life outside boarding school. It was home for me. The hand-around’s and morning toast are a thing of legend for very good reasons.

What is a dream (in sleep) you often have?

Bellamy: In my dreams I am running. I am always running. Chased, I should say. That is my life, and I would chose no other. Sometimes I think of settling down, then I remember what happened to Beatrice, and to Clarence, and even – rest his soul – old Larson. Sometimes I still hear his voice. At night. In the dark. His screams still haunt me, following behind me as I run.

Do you have a lifelong dream or aspiration?

Bellamy: There are few things I wish for myself, due mostly to my position, but I would so dearly love for there to be a more open dialogue about those behind invisible doors. We are so sheltered by official secretdom that it has become impossible to investigate occurrences without bumping into at least one or two drifters from the dimensions – and for all the evidence which exists, they are still considered fairy tales for the masses. I’ve been to the dazzling beyond, my boy, and seen what blazes there. There is no question in my mind and there should be none in yours. I dream that one day we will accept the Dreaming

How do you go to sleep, and how do you wake up? (i.e. position in bed, etc.)

Bellamy: Sleep is a luxury, and I tend to catch forty winks when I can. Truth be told, it’s more like thirty winks, but length isn’t important, it’s the quality which matters. Or so I’ve been told. (Bellamy grins)

What is the last thing you wrote?

Bellamy: I filed a report for the Bletchley boys yesterday, outlining the problems with our constant surveillance of the Brussels interlopers on our shores. The trio of agents they have interfering with British matters is troublesome, especially given their ability to discern things which no normal person could possibly discover. One of their number is British, but the woman is from French stock I believe… She certainly qualifies as a threat to national security regardless. The American seems familiar also.

What grosses you out?

Bellamy: (Bellamy laughs) There is little in this realm which could force me to lose such a carefully crafted veneer of casual bemusement. I was, however, most disturbed by a town in Maine… Hobbs… The people there, and the things which will not leave my mind… But your phraseology…To be disgusted is to not understand, and it is my role to understand those things which cannot be understood.

Who is the person you like the least? Why?

Bellamy: (Bellamy shifts uncomfortably) The Directive. A more despicable trio of malcontents there never has been. I will say no more.

Tell me about the last time you cried.

Bellamy: I cry every day. And I dance every day. To cry and to dance is to feel alive. A tether to the breathing, hurting world around us is so important when dealing with the encroaching darkness. (Bellamy lights a cigarette)

What is something you feel guilty about?

Bellamy: Larson. I regret letting Larson die. He was a private investigator I hired off the books. His partner, Lamont, and he were to watch over an individual I suspected of being involved in a conspiracy to hand more power over to the EU. He was killed in a hit and run so-called accident, but evidence pointing to the involvement of outside agencies was clear. He died because of me. Because of my recklessness, and my arrogance. I regret that the most, of everything I have done. And I have done so, so much to be ashamed of…

Describe what you do when you look in a mirror.

Bellamy: Through the looking glass lies the truth, and all lies. I can see the past, the present, and the future – all in a sliver of silver-backed glass, reflecting the universe back to me. Mirror mirror, on the wall… It is one thing to see yourself, another entirely to see everything. To see the universes so clearly.

Describe yourself sitting in your favorite spot.

Bellamy: There is a stone arch bridge, over a stream and surrounded by fields, near Bletchley. I cannot reveal the exact location for obvious reasons, but that bridge has always been a special place… Has always held special memories. I remember standing on the bridge in my first years in this crazy business, hoping to find answers in the ripples of the water, asking the refracting light what I should do, and listening to the wind whisper secrets to me. I learned so much on that bridge.

Tell me about a very treasured item.

Bellamy: (Bellamy thinks for a moment, taking long breaths from his cigarette) Possessions, on the whole, are replaceable. I’ve lost so many friends that I treasure those who remain. (the cigarette is stubbed out on an ashtray) Aside from my essential belongings, I try not to become too attached to items, fond as I am of them.

Do you have a nervous tic or habit?

Bellamy: I smoke rather too frequently to be considered the model of health. (a pause) My resorting to magiks is also troublesome, given my disdain for those who proliferate in the use of arcane methods. And I sleep with too many people whom common sense would preclude from any meaningful association.

Tell me about your siblings…if you have them.

Bellamy: Alas, I was an only child. An unwanted one at that.

What is your favorite sound?

Bellamy: The sound of waves crashing against the shore of this world from beyond, and the song of eternity ringing in my ears. There is beauty in all music, but I have a certain fondness for Berlioz – his music reminds me of the things which exist just out of sight yet not out of mind. There is magic in those notes.

What is your favorite smell?

Bellamy: That, dear boy, is most certainly classified.

Thank you for taking the time out from, uh… Whatever. I really don’t want to know the details.


Posted in Misc., Over The Line, writing | Tagged: , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Demotivational Gallery

Posted by BigWords on December 17, 2009

If you have no idea what this post is about, then take a look at A little friendly competition. For motivation. Gone and had a look? Then I’ll begin…

The political side of demotivational posters has always been overlooked in favor of the rude stuff, but there is a long tradition of politics creeping in to art when people aren’t really paying attention. The quote at the bottom of the second image may just be obscure enough to hide the sentiments, though I suspect folks will get the gist of the juxtaposition. If you need it explained to you, then you probably should start brushing up on your twentieth century history. The first image is an easy dig at the intellectual level of the then-current President, mingled with a meme popular at the beginning of the war in Iraq.

The following images are more typical of the demotivational style. There’s and Easter Egg (of sorts) if you look carefully at the Pokemon one.

I have a tendency to go for companies and politicians, apparently… I never noticed before, but a lot of the demotivational images which come readily to hand have this theme running through them. Which is probably a tad more self-awareness than I really needed to be made aware of. There are some I’ve come across which would definitely land me in some serious trouble, even though copies are probably still floating around in cyberspace it is better that I distance myself from anything which is too libelous.
There will probably be completely new images appearing in response to the “friendly” competition (is there such a thing?), so I’ve put together one specially for the occasion:

Posted in Misc., Over The Line | Tagged: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »