Hollywood; Loyal Movie Developer, or the Murderer of Movies?

 

The following content is but my opinion, so if you don’t agree that is purely your prerogative, and you have every right to it.

However, I would like to state that over the past few years, the varieties of films that have graced our screens at the cinema and at our own homes I would say are less ‘gracing’ our screens as they once did, but are tormenting them with stories that require additional development, characters who are either very similar to others or who are simply brain dead and are unable to postulate a single thought of their own, and special effects that inevitably cause the audience to become lost within the, sometimes, beauty of the graphics and forget what the plot was in the first place – which doesn’t say much about the plot.

I would argue that it seems that Hollywood has officially run out of gas. The vehicle that is the movie making monopoly has stalled on the side of the road and is attempting to make its way back to the city on gasoline that is less that the required ‘premium’ variety that it is used to.

How often recently have you seen a film that was an original concept? I mean, every second film contains vampires, every third film contains werewolves and every fourth film contains aliens that are hell bent on our destruction. There are only so many ways you can create a storyline that is reflective of these genres, and eventually they all just blur together and it is as though you are watching the same film over and over again.

And don’t you dare get me started on the remakes that are been tossed out from Hollywood faster than its trash.

I have always wondered, how do the creators, the actors, the writers, the producers, the directors, and all the other hundreds of people involved in the original features feel when Hollywood decides to orchestrate a new film based upon the original story. Hollywood claims it is ‘better’, but really – these stories are shorter, chuck out the original script and take out all the ‘unnecessary’ parts (you know, the story) and riddle it with enough action in the hope of keeping the audience on their toes. Now, this can work; Poseidon and Fright Night were both, in my opinion, terrific re-imaginings of the original film concepts. But still, how do the people involved in the original feature feel when Hollywood markets the re-make as though the original never happened. I remember with Poseidon, which I just complimented by the way, the trailer said it was the first great film from WB and bla, bla, bla, but never in the trailer did they say it was based on the original film, or on the book that the original film was based upon. They said that in the titles, but who honestly reads them anymore? According to statistics in Australia, 40% of the workforce cannot read. And we are a ‘developed’ country. HA! My point is that I was the only person I knew at the time it was an actual remake. Hell, none of the other people I knew had even heard of the tele-movie ‘the New Poseidon Adventure’, let alone the original Poseidon Adventure.

Then there are the remakes that ruin the original films. A great example would have to be Clash of the Titans. The original film stuck to the concept of Greek Gods and the mythology that the ancient culture that believed in them based their religious theories upon. The Gods were mischievous and interfered with the lives of mere mortals. They could care less for humans, and never physically made their way down to the planet to mingle with them, and instead watched their struggles, and, if they became bored, would make said struggles even more forebodingly difficult and treacherous.

In the remake – well, for one, the robotic owl that appeared in the original – is scrapped! The Gods, well, they love humans. Zeus is constantly jumping down to Earth to talk to his half-son Perseus and give him warm advice and offerings and much needed encouragement, which he refuses, which is a first for me. I mean, who is offered a great array of amazing powers and tools, etc, only to say ‘no thanks’?

Then we have the insufferable love story that gets in the way of enjoying the real storyline. I remember when the young lady died (I could care less for the film which is why I forget her name), at the cinema, a little girl sitting not far from me said ‘mummy, is she going to Heaven?’ I felt like leaning over and barking ‘no you little idiot! She’s going to Hades! Now hush!’ My point? Our society has an imbedded ideology of our religious concepts thanks to films and other such factors, and in doing so we have ultimately forgotten where all of the religions began and many seem to think they never occurred at all.

And the ending – typical Hollywood – unable to generate an ending that is anything but happy. For once, I would like to see the hero fail or the loved one perish and never return or some other tragically emotional occurrence.

That leads me to the other issue – sustenance. All of the films made by Hollywood are so nice and sweet that if aliens are really watching these things, they’ll probably invade Earth just based on the principle that humanity seems to be a bunch of sissy’s, no offence. Well, I have offended thee, so let me explain why…the romantic, happy, hero always wins and gets the girl storylines are so far from being realistic that to call them so would be outrageous. In reality, such beautiful storylines are not articulated. Humanity would not survive against an alien force with bigger guns, bigger brains and better technology than us – but in films we always do. In reality the vampire would not be a tragically defeated soul looking for someone to soothe his lonely, wounded heart – but in films, that’s all he ever is, and the idea of sipping blood is suddenly turned into a big ‘no! No!’

I would like to think that people who watch films are intelligent. If that be the case, then intelligent people would expect more from their films than the stereotypical Hollywood jargon that is continuously been promulgated and force fed down our throats. True, we don’t have to watch it, but the thing is, do we have a choice? Australian films are few and far between. Foreign films – well, unless one understands the lingo you ain’t gonna have much fun because the subtitles fly across the screen faster than a Formula One Racing Car. At the end of the day, if we are to endure films to acquire some pleasing entertainment from them, I think we would very much appreciate to gain that entertainment rather than be denied it time and time again.

This leads me to my next argument. Video games that are turned into movies. Okay, I will admit, on occasion, the films in themselves stand alone as not half bad features. They are often action packed, fast hitting and quite enjoyable for a good couple hours. On the other hand however, when in comparison to the actual video games they are ‘based’ upon, I cannot see the resemblance. Take Doom for example. In the original Doom game, the Union Aerospace Corporation is taken over by demons spawned from Hell that kill everyone and leave only one man surviving – the hero the gamer plays as. In the film, the monsters are scientific organisms that were once people and have thus been transformed due to genetic experimentation, and have escaped and are running rampant throughout the scientific facility. Apart from a three minute FPS experience and the fact that a couple monsters looked similar to the ones found in Doom3, I failed to see the resemblance.

Now however, Hollywood has announced that Mass Effect, Just Cause, World of Warcraft, Bioshock and a couple other titles are all on the way to been turned into movies. My question is…why? Games are like movies – you experience them for the entertainment. Games are basically you could say like anime – they are animated features with the exception that the viewer becomes involved in the storyline and is thus further immersed into the world than one ever would in a film, which is beneficial if you ask me. Now, the shortest game I have ever played lasted around 4.5 hours. The longest lasted well over 36. My question – how do you compress all of that story into under 2 hours, cuz, let’s face it, there has never been as movie based on a video game that has gone for longer than 108 minutes!

Of course, there is always the Halo film that is continuously been put on hold by the fact that the directors keep running away from the project as far as their legs can carry them. I would presume they are right to flee from fear of the reprisal that will be brought upon them if the film is anything less than an accurate articulation of the entertainment that was acquired from the original video game.

In conclusion to this section, I find Hollywood’s continued use of turning video games into films proof that they are officially out of ideas, and so instead of creating another lame plot, need to turn an amazing video game experience into a lame plot.

Then there is the Australian film industry. I have spent enough time attacking the American version, so allow me to move onto one that is closer to home. However, this too is linked back to my argument on Hollywood; I blame Hollywood for the current state of the Australian industry. Not in regards to its financial issues or its lack of productivity, but in relation to the fact that Australian films are becoming much more Americanised. The perfect example of what Australian cinema used to be like would have to be the Mad Max films, especially the second in the franchise. Mad Max is the perfect anti-hero, which is what Australian cinema used to be riddled with. Americans have always loved their heroes. In films, their heroes will do anything to save people, country, God and anything else that stands for freedom and liberty just because they can. In Australian cinema, Australians in general used to like their heroes to be a bit dirtier. In regards to Mad Max, he agreed to help the settlers who were under siege from the antagonistic armies; however, he had a price. He wanted a vehicle, fuel and ammunition. If his demands were not met, he was not going to assist them. That is the perfect representation of the anti-hero. However, such an idea seems to have dried up and died with Australian heroes, when there are heroes, often they are now-a-days been articulated as true blue heroic characters that will lay their lives on the line to save anything and everything. The impact of American films on Australia has ultimately rendered our film traditions moot as audiences crave more and more American content that has caused the industry to adapt to the changing face of the Australian audience.

So, after that rant of mine, what does the fair readership of this piece think? Do you believe that Hollywood is still as fantastic as it once was and is spewing out pieces of amazing work? Or do you think that I may be onto something, and that Hollywood is in fact a ravenous monster, keen to devour everything in its path and turn what could be great into quite the opposite?

Thank you for reading,

Naughty Nefarious, signing off!

GIFT or CURSE? A piece about WRITING, PUBLISHING and UNIVERSITY

 

Contains some coarse language.

Plan? What plan? Talk to the architect if you want a plan! Yep, that’s right – if you came here for advice, you are sadly mistaken, cuz here, you will find anything but…

…Going to a university after college/high school/whatever it’s called, is all well and good, but are there repercussions to this as well?

As a person who wanted to work professionally in the writing field, I found out the hard way that employer’s do not take people seriously who do not have valid credentials in the field they wish to enter. Now, by writing, I meant a professional, who worked on pieces from prose to poetry, through to novels and screenplays. Yes, I suffer from delusions of grandeur, but a dream is a dream until it is proven to be 100% unachievable, and I am yet to reach that unfortunate stage.

But, why a writer? So many people these days want to be teachers and shrinks and work in PR. Well, I could that writing has always been a guilty pleasure of mine, but I think that Australian author Michael Hyde, who was my lecturer for my introduction to Creative Writing class during my first semester of University put it best. Now, I hope to write this properly, but it has been a couple years since he explained this, so I might not be entirely accurate in my words – if he happens to read this he’ll probably shake his head at me. Dr. Hyde (yes, doctor, not mister!) explained how he was once teaching at this school. There was a student who could write very well, but to impress his friends he did his best not to focus on writing as much as he did sports and drinking, and other usual Aussie bloke stuff. Anyway, this literary competition is held at the school, and Dr. Hyde asks this student to submit his piece. For further encouragement, he explains how women like writers – they find men who write absolutely irresistible. The student is quite unsure; his friends laugh at him, believing writing to be the kind of thing done by losers and nerds – not by stereotypical Aussie blokes. Anyway, after much convincing the student decides to enter his piece into the competition – and wins! But, the morale of the story has not yet come to pass…the following morning, Dr. Hyde is walking down a corridor – and he sees the young woman who every man in the entire school had been lusting over embracing the student who had won the competition – yes, the same student Dr. Hyde had encouraged to enter. So, walking over to them, Dr. Hyde whispers into the ear of the student ‘told yer so.’ So, there you have it…the reason why I want to write – to gain the attention of all the foxy ladies.

Besides, in regards to other avenues of study…in relation to PR, 1) I’m no good at communicating with the general public, and 2) I’m no good at communicating with my relations, so how the hell could I ever be any good at Public Relations? And as for teaching – often has good opportunities for economic compensation, but other than that…besides, students usually freak the hell out of me, so it’s one of those thanks but no thanks ventures. Some people are scared to fly. Some people are frightened of the dark. I’m terrified to students. Moving on…

…Between the ages of thirteen and fifteen during some of my spare time I completed three short story collections, each containing six pieces. However, by the end the word ‘short’ may have very well been the last word I would have used to describe them, with the shortest piece indeed being 7 pages in length, whilst the largest was 102, and the average was 60; not exactly the definition of the term ‘short’ now, are they?

Unfortunately for me, at the time I had no literary agent, and only a very small per cent of Australian publishers are willing to accept unsolicited content; Penguin and their subsidiary Puffin, Allen and Unwin (at the time at least), Text Publishing, just to name a few. However, these publishers may say ‘we will accept unsolicited material’, but never is there a clause that expresses ‘we will publish unsolicited material.’ I learnt very quickly that every single publishing house had a problem with short stories; unless you were a known quantity in the industry, then this notion did not apply. I remember reading on the MacMillan page that they did not publish short stories, yet in the exact same month I read that known Australian author Andy Griffiths, most notable for his ‘Just’ franchise, had another of his short story collections published by their company! So, the rules are rules, unless you are a published author, in which case none actually apply to you.

Unfortunately for me, on the first occasion I happened to submit something, I mentioned my age, which at the time was 14. After almost half a year, in which I had given up waiting for this particular publishing house and had sent pieces to a couple others, I was notified in the mail whether or not I was successful. Of course I wasn’t, as depicted by the general tone of the paragraph. Did they supply a reason? Yes, amazingly enough…they explained how a 14 year old writer could never be taken seriously in the industry, and if one is writing short stories aimed for a young, adolescent audience, then they cannot be members of that readership – they need to be older, and more experienced in age and life, for nobody would ever want to read the work of a teenager. Safe to say I never mentioned my age in a cover letter again.

Anyway, long story short (pun included?) I contacted a literary agency, and after a few months was able to successfully converse with one of their employees about how short stories were not a popular market – in which I found out that they actually are! True, short stories never sell as many copies as novels, but they are especially well enjoyed by younger audiences because of their general length. It’s that publishers do not want to take the risk with a short story collection. On occasion, these collections have gone belly up for publishers, which is why they are after something more – a novel. Luckily enough for me, at the time I had an idea for a science fiction novel which I had been developing for some time.

Of course, something always gets in the way, right? Well, in this instance it was plain ol’ me…I finished the novel in December of 2009 after working on it for roughly six whole years. I took one look at my finished product and thought ‘what a piece of shit.’ Okay, honestly, it may not have been all that bad, but there was more I wanted to develop within the story in regards to the centralised characters and the lead antagonists. Additionally, I leant a lot whilst writing the story. The one thing I took away with me from high school was this; it don’t matter if you are writing a story set in the past, present or the future, if you do not have themes, or if you do not discuss pertinent issues that are reminiscent of today’s society, you will not gain a very broad readership. So, what are strong themes or issues transpiring today? Well, there is gay marriage, war, especially the one in the Middle East, racism and terrorism. There is love and sexism and rights for women. Safe to say, one can develop a piece with futuristic themes and such, but only the writer will really be privy to such a fantasy. The reader needs something that they can understand and clearly relate to, else you ain’t gonna succeed.

Additionally, I thought another aspect of writing on my lonesome, which Michael Hyde further discussed in his second lecture. What is this you might wonder? Well, at the beginning of my first novel (the term ‘beginning’ is loosely used – basically means the entire first half) I dominated my characters. I ruled over them with an iron fist! I wanted each and every one of them to live up to the notions and developments that I had conceived in my mind, and nothing was gonna get in my way from having them end up the way I wanted them to. However, by the second half of the piece I had altered my train of thought and relieved my characters of my ruling and allowed them to run free across the page. What did I learn from this experience? If you sit back, your characters will do everything for you – all you need to do is write it down. The freedom my characters had from this point onwards guaranteed them change from my initial plan that I had scheduled for their futures and changed many of the conclusions I had initially conceived.

I also happened to unfortunately find when I tried to publish this first novel of mine that I had just chosen to write in the one genre that I probably shouldn’t have. Yes, sci-fi is a very well rounded and broad subject that is enjoyable around the world; the problem? At least half, if not more Australian publishers are scared shitless of publishing sci-fi because it could blow up in their faces! Why/how did I not know this when I first began? SHIT! Anyway, instead of giving up ion such a genre or reinventing parts of the novel, I decided to move onto the development of another sci-fi oriented piece – which I am still developing to this very day.

True, probably not one of the most intelligible of things to do since I knew what to expect from the industry, but there was one more thing I was counting on; the experience I had been told that was a necessity for me back when I was fourteen…I was, and still am, attempting to acquire it. I’m in my third and final year of my undergraduate university course, but I have no intention of stopping there. Next, I wish to complete my masters, and then my doctorate, and then I can be Dr. Naughty Nefarious! However, what I am really aiming for is plain and simple professional courtesy – if I have gone all the way to gain a doctorate (that is if I succeed, which I hope to do so), I am hoping to look pretty darn respectable. I mean, how many people in total within Australia have gone on to gain doctorates? I don’t mean to seem pretentious or egotistical, but I am hoping this may provide to me a bonus, as to allow me to stand out from the other hopeful writers of tomorrow.

In the meantime though, what can I possibly do? Well, that is where the Gift/Curse part of the headline comes into play…one can gain a university degree, or go on to complete their postgrad, but all of this comes at a price. And I don’t just mean economically, although that is gonna be one helluva issue whine it comes time for me to pay off the rotten bastard of a tab that I have wafting over my head like a dark, angry storm cloud. No, I of course mean professionally. If one is after a job after attaining such qualifications and is unable to gain one in their intended industry, what next? That is the problem, because ‘what next’ is a great, big puddle of utter nothingness. Employers not in the field of study one has accomplished want NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! Why not? One, you are too over qualified. Actually, that is basically the one and only point. Due to this, you will constantly be searching for another occupation – one in your chosen felid that you explicitly studied for, and once you acquire that dream job, you will leave the one you currently have. Employers don’t want to put time and investment into a worker who will inevitably leave – no, they want someone they can train and bend to their every whim like to an able pet. So, gaining one’s dream educational qualification is all well and good, but it will ultimately prohibit oneself from gaining an employment- anywhere but in their chosen field, and if the job you seek is not hiring, well, to be blunt – you’re fucked!

Naughty Nefarious, signing off!

I am not afraid of spending my life with someone forever. I am afraid of never finding that someone I am to spend forever with.

 

Marriage. It is seen as quite a big step for some. For others it is a part of their culture and a necessity for their way of life. For others – it ain’t ever gonna happen. So, where does little ol’ Naughty Nefarious reside? On the fence? In any of these three previous areas of society? Actually, no. So, where exactly? I am actually looking forward to being married. I know, weird! I ain’t even twenty five yet, and I am ready to settle down.

I am just tired of the whole dating game. I mean, what is the point of dating a person for a couple days, or months, or years, only to find that the relationship comes to a grinding and excruciatingly painful halt? So, I can either bench myself, which doesn’t exactly help my cause…or I can find ‘the one’ and move on out of the whole dating game. Yes, ‘the one’. Now, I am not a-ah, shit! I’m gonna say the truth. It’s not like I’m a liar. It’s just that I would rather not admit the following… (giant sigh)………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
…………………….I’m a romantic. Yes, I said it. I stand by it. I think I just lost all of my masculinity in that one moment by saying that, but I am going to stand by it. I am a heterosexual twenty something year old Australian bloke – and I’m a romantic to boot. Now, before I go dunk my head in a vat of acid from total embarrassment, allow me to finish my post.

I remember in high school, my year eleven teacher basically made the point that I am certain almost everyone of my age believes in. Why get married when you are so young? People want the opportunity to make mistakes, to have some fun, to have lost and lots and lots of sex with random partners, and do all three of these things and more up until the age of thirty five. Then, and only then will they settle down. Now – they are composed, and they have done enough exploration to finally have a family. In my view, why wait? If you truly love someone, you just know, right? So why not just get married immediately when you realise? I’m not saying you find a girl and one month later become Mr. and Mrs. I got married right quick. No. I’m saying after a cool couple years, then get married – do not follow the social normality that I have been told is the average stereotypical norm and wait until you have been with half the people in the state before coming to your sensors and deciding to spend your life with the one hundredth person you so happen to find.

Now, I ain’t trying to create the idea that the human race is one giant whore and I apologise if that is the view I appear to have orchestrated thus far. No, so please, allow me to explain my last paragraph. People I believe are simply naturally scared of what they do not understand. We live in a world where love is so very often not found. True love especially appears to be entirely absent from society. So, when a person is overcome by such a feeling, I guess it is normal for that person to be naturally frightened of the feeling and decide to not commit to said romance. I however am one of those people who just say ‘the hell with it – go with it!’

Now, I might say that I believe it is nonexistent, but that does not mean that people do not feel it. I am certain that every day someone is overcome by this feeling. The horrible truth is that love, it is quite possibly one of the single most painful experiences one is ever going to feel, for the loudest sound ever recorded was without a doubt the breaking of the human heart. However, the feeling can also be one of the most rewarding. The problem is with the human heart…people and nations can both be neutral. The human heart however cannot. It is the one bastard that always takes a side – and therein lies the rub. The whole connotation of ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’ reigns true, but what is the point of falling in love with someone when they cannot love you back? This is the unfortunate truth that so often occurs. In my case at least.

Now, I don’t know how it is for other people, but I have a system. I never created it, I just had it from the moment I began to become attracted to women. I obtain feelings for a woman, one single woman, and for no one else. When that happens, I pursue those feelings until I cannot pursue them no more. When is that you might ask? Once I discover that I cannot 100% have a relationship with the woman, the feelings disappear. Remarkably I have found this happens quite quick, but bearing in mind in such circumstances neither of us have dated so I basically have nothing to be mourning about. I liked the woman and had feelings for her, but never did a romance bloom. Now, I would like to state that when I successfully reel in a woman after obtaining feelings for her and I verify that she likes me too that we begin to experience a beautiful romance. I would like to say that, but not so much. Why not? My feelings change.

My heart and my mind are in constant battle with one another. My heart is all feeling and imagines the woman liking me as much as I like her and all that we can do together. My mind, that bastard is a different story. He, she, it, is up there in my head, explaining to me how my heart is wrong and how everything is going to come crashing down and how the woman could never love me in a million years. Yes, I have the most negative mind in the galaxy. Now, I have not been rejected so many times. That is not the reason why my mind believes such things. I mean, I have only been rejected three times in my life. I have only ever asked five women out (yes, I know, three plus one equals four, but I do not count the time I was in my final year of high school and playfully asked out one of my teachers – a foxy 23 year old food teacher).

Basically, I don’t think my mind has any reason to think such thoughts. So, once I verify the woman likes me, what happens? My mind, now in full control of the situation, takes control of the wheel and begins to reverse! My heart drove all the way up to the woman in question, put itself on the line, was accepted, and is now leaving. My mind officially comes to the conclusion – it is not going to get any better than this. You like her. She likes you. Nothing else is going to happen. In the end, you will inevitably fall out of like, or love, if you have unanimously grown such feelings for one another, and you would have wasted away all that time together only to leave with a broken heart. So, my mind, the safety net, believes it is saving my heart. How so?

I gain the feelings of boredom in relation to the woman. I have not been out on a date with her. Never spoken dirty with her. Never seen her fabulous naked body standing before me. Never slept with her. Never had sex with her. Never been sprung by her parents. Never been sprung by my parents. So, why the hell am I bored with her? No idea really. My heart obviously reaches the same deluded conclusions as my mind and decides, what is the point? This did not happen during my last relationship. No, this has happened since then. I really did not want that last relationship to end, so obviously my mind has adapted since then and decided it no longer wants to hear my heart bitch and whine about been broken after giving itself away, only to have the relationship come to a conclusion. I know deep down however that if I begin that relationship with a woman, my heart will grow contented and successfully retake control of the wheel. I just need to take that step. I didn’t last time though. Last year, September, I came to the conclusion that the young lady I have spoken of before in some of my previous posts liked me; maybe at least. I had proof that had been verified by my heart, but like already mentioned, my mind thinks me heart to be an idiot. So, basically, no fabulous evidence that my mind could not disavow as been anything but delusions. Anyway, at that time I began to become bored with her – over the course of about forty minutes. And suddenly, I had no control over my legs – they simply took me away from her before I had the opportunity to say anything from ‘s’up?’ to ‘I wuv you.’ What I want is for next time, if there ever happens to be a ‘next time’, for this not to happen, and for my heart to remain in friggin’ control.

I only wish that could be the case…but, like I said earlier. If I get married – I no longer have to worry about shit like this.

Naughty Nefarious, signing off.

I think Twitter has it out for me…

 

…yes I do! And I ain’t paranoid! Here are all of my reasons why I KNOW Twitter is out to get me!

1)      My profile picture has disappeared three times this week! I keep putting it back, and the next time I go on there – it is a blue circle! Where the bloody hell is my image going? Am I hideous or something? Have people reported vomiting at the sight of my image? Or is it because I am wearing sunnies? Do people want to see my ravishing brown eyes? Well, we’ll see what we can do about that!

 

2)      My profile description has disappeared on a couple occasions! Where does it go? Does it grow legs and wander off to spend time with some saucy minx? What is happening elsewhere on Twitter more interesting than me bitching about life and all things in it that my personal description needs to flee! Come back I say! Come back! I WUV YOU!

 

3)      My followers keep disappearing. I admit, I don’t have many, but I once had over twenty. Now, I have what, 16! What’s more, these people who no longer follow me? They didn’t just stop following me – they have gone completely! Their profiles are gone! Twitter swallowed them up! It ate them…it’s only a matter of time b4 it eats me too me thinks…

 

4)      It keeps saying ‘Oops, you already tweeted that!’ when in fact I never did!

 

5)      A couple times a week Twitter announces that it made a mistake and that once rectified I will need to redo whatever it was that I did to ensure that it is done because they have undone what I did. Yes, sense that truly makes!

 

6)      It has automatically unfollowed some of the people I have followed. It once unfollowed Virginia Madsen! Of all the people to unfollow, why unfollow my Virginia? Why unfollow the most beautiful woman in all the world? Oops, did I just say that? Well, I guess now everyone knows who my celeb crush is… (It’s actually Ash Sroka, but since she don’t have a Twitter page, I followed no.2 on my celeb crush list instead)

 

7)      I cannot send a direct message to people who do not ‘follow’ me! Two days ago Dr. Tara Mokhtari, my fav Australian poet sent me a direct message. I don’t know why – but I could not send one back BECAUSE TWITTER DENIED ME! THAT BASTARD! I SHAKE MY FIST VIOLENTLY IN TWITTER’S DIRECTION! And like a bitch I will be blogging on Twitter again tomorrow.

 

8)      The girl of my dreams of whom is on Twitter refuses to reply to any of my tweets. I followed her and she followed me…but still she refuses to reply! Okay, by ‘tweets’ I mean ‘tweet’ because I only had the balls to send one. Maybe two. But she never responded to either of them! SHE HATES ME!

 

9)      The first person who ever responded to one of my posts tried to upload a virus to my computer! The link attached to his post was to a friggin’ virus! Lucky for me my spyware picked it up! Else I would not be writing this right now…I would be in the depths of hell!

 

Anyway…that is why I believe Twitter is out to get me. I have now finished my rant and feel quite content with me self. Oh oh, I feel another rant coming on…stay tuned for ‘why I think the neighbor’s cat is out to collect my toe nails.’ Yes, all will be revealed!

Thank you for reading, and may your travels on Twitter be slightly more pleasant than mine.

You know you have been playing video games too long when…

 

-you think by walking over things you will automatically pick them up.

-the last time you had a girlfriend, Cleopatra was Queen of Egypt.

-during a fight, you frantically look for the ‘b’ button as to perform a successful melee attack.

-you duck and roll into office cubicles rather than walk into them.

-at work, when a person throws a file at you, you quickly toss it right back from fear it might explode.

-you think your LAN connection is faulty when things go wrong in life.

-you would rather toss a hand gun than use it, preferring a minigun because if you want to kill something, the last thing you wanna do is miss.

-you think ‘Facebook’ is a Reaper indoctrination device.

-you and your friends walk around, bumping into any and all areas of the environment like a bunch of brainless bots.

-your fingers are permanently fixed into a claw from continued use of console triggers.

-you become annoyed when weapons do not load quite as easily in reality as they would in a video game.

-‘Tali, do you want to go out for dinner tonight?’ you ask your girlfriend who is in fact named Rachel, Stephanie or True.

-your boss fires you for failing to come to work for the past two weeks, and the last thing you ever say to the man is ‘but boss, the Krogan need me!’

-you feel more at home in sewers and ventilation shafts than in your own bedroom.

-you’ve sat on your ass, played video games and eaten food so often that the last time you saw the numbers 1,096 was on the bathroom scales.

-when purchasing clothing, you check the label to see how much damage resilience it will offer you.

-you are unable to perform a jump because your body is not equipped with a space bar.

-you remove all the doors in your house from their hinges and have everyone you love wear bells attached to their necks for their protection, along with your own, to ensure you know where everyone you care about is at any given time in your house as to not have them sneak up on you and force you to inevitably slay them.

-you look for the little blue ‘x’ button when entering and exiting vehicles.

-you can’t find your flashlight, so use a flame thrower or chain gun to light your way instead.

-when your wife throws items at your head even she is amazed when you duck and roll with record reaction time from the amount of practice you have received from battling killer mutants from outer space.

-at funerals, you wonder why the dead bodies do not fade away, and question the priests about whether there is a fault with their software when this fails to happen.

-you attempt to install cheat codes into your body as to allow yourself to walk through walls and have infinite ammo.

-you look for an invulnerability sphere at your local pharmacist.

-the sun hurts your eyes after you emerge from what feels like an eternity of gaming, whilst your beard seems a few meters longer than what it was when you began.

-to begin a conversation with a person, you wait until they are highlighted, or look over their bodies in the hopes of discovering a ‘use’ key.

-the growl of the dog and the meow of the cat cause you to leap over the couch for a better vantage point whilst reaching for your semi-automatic.

-you take a vowel of celibacy as to lose your virginity to an Assari Huntress.

-you take an RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher, not Role Playing Game!) to your high school reunion cuz you know when the shit hits the fan an area effect weapon is better than a pistol.

-during game play, when an enemy attacks your character, you slide off your chair as to tactically avoid them.

-your television and monitor are riddled with bullet holes.

-your XBOX 360, PS3, keyboard and mouse require cleaning every couple days rather than every couple months.

-after playing a video game you need a long hot shower as to wipe away all the excess blood from your face, whilst your friends wonder why you are covered in so many scars and bruises.

-your girlfriend’s snoring reminds you of the Hell Knight from Doom…and makes you consider leaving the chainsaw beneath your bed from fear she might actually be the Hell Knight from Doom.

-you dress up as your favorite video game character for conventions, Halloween and all manner of other occasions, but your friends always recognise you.

-you move all of your first aid kits closer towards your game console.

-you mistake your wife’s best friend’s boob job for a couple rocket launchers.

-you randomly speak your mind, knowing if you do something wrong, you can always load from the last check point.

-your trigger finger twitches whenever someone enters the room.

-you ask for the Quad Damage weapon multiplier at the local gun store.

-all of your consoles automatically boot directly into your favorite games unless you press a specific key.

-you find yourself looking for Kevlar and anti-radiation suits at your local K-Mart.

-when buying a helmet, you ask the shop keeper for the one with the A.I port at the rear.

-you don’t bother turning on the lights because you know your eyes come with a night sensitivity mode.

-when a man insults you, instead of saying ‘I challenge you to a duel’ you say ‘I challenge you to a deathmatch!’

-you don’t worship God – no, you worship the Covenant forerunners.

-you walk up and down the super market complex looking for ‘Citadel Souvenirs.’

-when sick, you ask the doctor for a stim-pack.

-you look for sniper towers in toilet cubicles and elevators.

-you‘re annoyed when your parents buy you the new car they have been promising you – only to find it was not a Warthog.

-you find it odd when your environment does not stall or become pixilated.

-during physical altercations you ask your opponents to pause so you might heal.

-you think the mole on your left wrist is in fact the Omni-tool activation switch.

-you quickly run in and out of rooms, watching your back to see what creature follows you out.

-you choose to play a video game rather than spend the night with a woman. Funny fact; in 2009, a survey in Australia looked at male gamers – the question? Would you rather spend the night playing a video game, or spend the night with a woman. 78% of those surveyed – said they would rather spend the night playing a video game.

-your girlfriend leaves you, slamming the front door as it comes back to knock her in the ass. She cries at the top of her lungs ‘you love your friggin’ game box more than you love me you selfish bastard!’ You don’t twitch nor flinch as you persist in trying to eliminate the final boss at the end of the game. Besides, saving the universe from total destruction is more important than she was, right?

-during conversations, you pause as to allow time for the next conversation option to appear before your eyes.

-you believe certain mushrooms will bestow onto you a temporary boost of magika.

-you walk into Best and Less and ask where they keep their Spartan Armor.

-you barter for random goods and services, and try to sell goods you don’t need back to perspective shop keepers.

-you squint your eyes, rub at them and close them completely, wondering why it is that the crosshairs are not appearing.

-you volunteer to carry your all of your friend’s goods, along with your own, from the belief that you can carry several hundred kilograms worth of equipment before becoming over encumbered.

-you think it’s odd that the bodies of all the women you know look different rather than similar and that their breasts are not huge and cumbersome.

-you think during the two minutes it takes you to walk from one side of the house to the next you can experience morning, noon and night.

-your friends are worried that you are not getting enough sun, explaining to you this is the first time you have been out of the house in the past six months.

-you go pressing up against walls in the hopes that one might open to reveal a secret area.

-you randomly look around your environment, hoping to find spare ammo clips.

-you search your girlfriend’s body for the following pieces of equipment; power cables, the ‘on’ switch, volume control and the mute button.

-you are so used to been called ‘marine’, ‘Shepherd’ or ‘Master Chief’ that when someone actually says your name you simply ignore them.

-when at the local car dealership you notice the vehicle you are after is not present and so ask if they have run out of Ghosts’.

-at the local shooting range, you ask the clerk behind the desk for the BFG.

-when you look at your reflection in the mirror you expect to find the ‘change appearance’ button.

-you pick fights with people, knowing that if you lose you can always respawn at full strength.

-when you enter a friend’s house you always look for where their flag is located so you might steal it and take it back home with you when they’re not looking as to score yourself a point.

-you believe every locked door can be opened with a red, blue or gold keycard.

-you are constantly being arrested for the minigun emplacement attached to the rear of your vehicle.

-you frequently wonder why you feel pain when injured.

-your best and most truest friend is a five inch tall, seven year old woman named ‘Cortana’.

-during family altercations, you reach for your assault rifle, believing a team deathmatch is on the verge of beginning.

-you side step down hallways as to avoid your work colleagues from fear they might assault you.

-you haven’t been able to open your fridge in the past two weeks because you are having difficulty locating the ‘use’ key.

-when your girlfriend blows you a kiss, you leap out of the way to avoid it whilst reaching for your shotgun.

-you don’t care so much when you are gravely ill or dying because you’ll probably be able to find one of those mega-health’s lying around.

-your favorite Backstreet Boys, Lady Ga Ga and Daughtry albums are left in the corner of your bedroom gathering dust, whilst the illegally downloaded music files from Halo, Doom and Mass Effect reach the rank of ‘most played’ in Windows Media Player.

-you expect to receive ‘paragon’ every time you say something nice.

-you wonder why you have five fingers on your hand rather than three.

-you constantly find yourself wondering why everything is not in third person mode.

-you think you are ill when your HUD does not appear before your eyes.

-‘I’ll be there in a minute honey, just let me finish this level’ is your most frequently used expression.

-when you open a door, instead of turning on the lights, you toss a grenade into the room.

-where everyone else puts on trunks or a bikini (if you swing that way), you equip anti-radiation suits before entering swimming pools.

Am I Australian?

This piece contains the following: coarse language, sexual references and horror theme (involving hair). You have been warned….

BTW, to any Australian who might happen to read this, allow me to apologise beforehand. I think perhaps on several occasions I might take our society off and make Australians seem, I dunno, like a bunch of raving psychos perhaps. Well, I hope that is not the interpretation orchestrated within this piece, but if that is the way my words are interpreted, allow me to apologise. But in my defense, which is pretty shotty I’ll admit, is it not better for an Australian to attack (?) the Australian way of life than have an outsider who knows our culture as well as they know the planet Neptune analyse us? Well, here goes…

…Am I Australian? Of course I am, what a stupid question, but that is not my point. Yes, I was born in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, as were my parents and the seven generations of my family that came before them. So yes, ethnically I am indeed Australian, but my question evolves more along the lines of the cultural dynamics of such a country.

So, what makes an Australian, Australian, and do I have such qualities? Well, according to a Robin Cook novel, whose title eludes me, he explained how all Australians; wore shorts, idolised Ned Kelly, and their hero was the kind of guy who would dress all in khaki. I would assume this to be considerably inaccurate. One, I don’t wear shorts. Two, I idolise beautiful women, and only wish they’d do the same unto me. And three, my hero? Well, to be perfectly frank, in my mind I am the number one super hero! So, what would I put in this interpretations stead? Well, even though I have lived in this country for a cool 23 years, I would never go so far as to call myself someone who properly understands the cultural atmosphere of such an environment.

First off, I would explore beer. According to the stereotypical norm, Australians are notorious for drinking beer, and are supposedly the largest consumers of such a product. The quintessential larrikin Australian bloke is always seen with a beer in hand, a six pack beside the BBQ, and a giant beer gut that extends a few feet out from the rest of his body. Problems with this assertion? Well, for one, I loathe beer. I hate it to such an extent that those nerds who invent new words, would have to come up with a brand new word to describe how much I detest beer. Me? I’m a wine guy myself, or perhaps port. Nothing short of a stereotypical bottle of wine will ever pass these lips, and if the letter ‘b’ begins the product, or the liquor inside looks remotely like the evil product that, like the antagonist from the Harry Potter novels shall not be named, it is not drunk. So, no to beer. Also, no to barbies. No, not the dolls…BBQ’s. Such a piece of equipment is believed to be what all Australians use to cook their dinners. And their lunches. And even their breakfasts. The stove? Huh, not for the colloquial Australian my friend, no, it is the barbie all the way. Well, I do suppose I get bonus points from having a barbie. It is however covered in so much dust and grunge and filth from the fact it has not been used since the days the Tyrannosaurus Rex still walked the Earth. This however don’t exactly score me anything in the cultural department.

Third – the Australian accent. This is quite possibly the second most quintessential thing an Australian needs to earn such a title. Shouldn’t be too hard to gain, I mean, one should have one from the moment they are born in such an establishment. Me? Not really. Odd, since like I mentioned, my family have been living here since the first fleet arrived, and that is no joke. My father’s relatives all those years ago – one of them was arrested for stealing bread, true story, no lie. So, if my relatives have been around all this time, you would imagine that I would have an accent? No, apparently not. In fact, some people (half of whom I wouldn’t trust with a stapler) have said that my accent sounds somewhat similar to that of a Chinese or Middle Eastern accent. But what do they know? Might have something to do with the fact that my voice is just very, very DEEP! So, no points in this area of necessity. Damn, if I were in competition here, I would be falling short.

Food. More importantly, lamb. This is seen as the essential delicacy in this country. The Chinese have fish. The Americans have McDonalds. New Zealanders have fish and chips. Australians – we have lamb. Beautiful, little, white lambs, who frolic through the meadows laced with beautiful red and white rose petals. They munch upon the green, green grass. They bleat under the gorgeous yellow sun. And then they have their legs hacked off and thrown onto someone’s plate. Me? I hate lamb. I love lamb when they are alive and bleating. I don’t like them when they are lying on my plate, its mutilated, decrepit cadaver looking back at me, smoke wafting off from the flesh that was, up until a few hours before, covered in white, silky wool. I used to live on an acreage when I was very, very young, with a couple sheep on their too. Ramsey and Blacky their names were. Ramsey was the lady – all she liked to do was eat grass, and probably smoke it too when we weren’t looking. Blacky, the bloke, all he cared about was Ramsey, more importantly – her vagina. Luckily for us he had, rather unfortunately for him, his balls removed upon purchase, so, no baby lambs, otherwise after a couple years the ratio between sheep and human would have been 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 to 3.

I’m not a big fan of ham either, which is meant to come in second from the lamb. I personally enjoy beef, or chicken, and when I do purchase beef, I go for the heart smart stuff, which is supposed to have very little fat. You try telling those who hand it out at the shops though. Sometimes there’s more fat on a 250gram packet of meat than there is on a humpback whale. Moving on though…

…Swearing. Yes, swearing is considered something that Australian’s do quite frequently. Almost every person I know cannot go five seconds without using one of the three major profanities, which I will not list. Why? Well, I personally don’t think I use profanities very often. On occasion, yes, but I just don’t have the time for them. I would like to think that perahps…oh my fucking God! I just fucking spelt fucking ‘perhaps’ wrong! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh, maybe I do swear. Wow, that’s a lot of curse words. I have never seen anything so beautiful in all my life!

Music. Yes, I enjoy such an aspect of life, but it is the variations that are most notable. If I were to make an assumption based upon most of the people I have been unfortunate enough to meet, I would say that most of the people of my generation have an infatuation with rap music. Every time a car drives by, rap music is pumping out through the stereo. That, and according to the news, a hail of bullets. Every time your neighbor throws a grossly oversized and incredibly loud party – rap music is pumping through the subwoofer’s of the stereo. Every time a guy with an MP3,4 or iPod walks by, rap music is heard pumping through the speakers. My point? Wherever you go, rap music seems to play a crucial part in contemporary Australian society. The problem? I would rather burn in the fires of hell – the fires reserved for the most nefarious of individuals than listen to rap music. There is no such word that I can find to describe how much I detest rap music. Simply put? I fuckin’ hate it, which apparently puts me at odds with the rest of my generation that cannot seem to get enough of it, and I truly mean that. I really, truly, deeply, unconditionally, unrealistically, unbelievably, unfathomably, incalculably, intoxicatingly, immeasurably, with a passion loath rap music!

Whilst on the subject of ‘entertainment’, the next subject up for discussion is Australian films. A true Australian it would seem hates Australian products. I enjoy watching Australian films. When I was younger, I used to ignorantly believe like most people that I know today that Australians were unable to decently create a good film. Once I turned twelve however, I began to worm my way out of such a belief and came to the conclusion that although Australian film finance companies have less green on hand than what American and other film companies do, this does not necessarily mean they cannot create a good feature film. Funnily enough, back in the early twentieth century when the development of films had commenced, Australia was the largest contributor of films in the entire world. Then Hollywood found its druthers and cancelled the Australian cinematic chain forever. But here’s some additional things I know – I was the only person in my entire last year of high school to have seen all three Mad Max films – some people didn’t even know there was a franchise called ‘Mad Max’. I found this to be utterly atrocious. I’ve known Americans who have known of the franchise for crying out loud! Additionally in my performance writing class at university, I was the only person to have seen the likes of Undead, Daybreakers, the Tender Hook and Sleeping Beauty – the other thirty odd or so students hadn’t even heard of the titles, let alone seen the films. Quite disturbing if you ask me.

As for clothing? Shorts are seen as been the fashionable accessory of clothing according to advertisements and the like. Me? Well, if you follow the information from the previous paragraphs it is obvious that everything is downhill from there. The last time I wore shorts I was in primary school. Since then, I have worn jeans. Except for the occasions when I didn’t, but even during those occasions, my legs were not graced by the likes of shorts. No, this has nothing to do with the fact that there is more hair on my leg than flesh. In fact, I think there is more hair on my entire body combined than flesh. Yes, that’s right folks. I make gorillas seem bald, in fact the film, Gorillas in the Mist? It was filmed in my shower. Well, not exactly, but it might as well have been, which leads me to my next point. Hair. Many of my friends (the guys I mean) have no hair. I don’t know this fact from peering under toilet lavatories and perving on them whilst they did their business in the shower. No, they simply talk about it. And so do the women who have seen the men when their clothes were no longer on their person. Now, I don’t know if such a thing comes from the fact that they have grown up to look very much like the day they first came into this world, or if they simply shave it off. At high school I went through a phase, many of them actually, where I changed my hair style frequently. My facial hair remained the same in which I had chops on either side of my face for quite a while, and a goatee on my chin. This did not go down so well with the ladies. Apparently, the women of today in this particular hemisphere, on this particular continent want their men to be bald – at least on their bodies. Now, I ain’t taking a razor to any other part of my body that is not either attached to my face or the top of my head, which might explain why some women never give me a second look. Perhaps they can just sense the hair. Safe to say, if they were to run their fingers through it, they would probably never get them back. Now, I’d have no problem with a woman being permanently attached to my person – but they might. Considerably in fact. I found out, quite quickly, that if my mother had given birth to me in the early seventies, I would have lived through the eighties rather than been born at their conclusion. My point? The eighties was the time for hair. Women loved it, and the hair loved them. Boy have times changed.

Now, this next point I intend to make may seem kind of racial – well, it is, but I don’t mean in the sense that I intend to talk about ‘race’. I mean, some people may consider me to be ‘racist’ after saying such a thing, so allow me to make this point as delicately as I can. I believe I have mentioned in the past that I was the only person in my high school year with an Anglo Saxon last name? In my university classes I am often the only person on the class roll with an Anglo Saxon last name too. Perhaps in a couple classes here and there a couple other names join mine in such a genre. My point? And I do have one…is that perhaps the key to been Australian is to typically not be Australian at all! We live in a multi-cultural society, which the government frequently refers to as an amazing aspect of this continent, so technically, if you are not adding to the wide diversity of cultures within the society I would suppose that you simply are not a part of it period. The days of the Anglo Saxon I personally sometimes believe are numbered. I’m not saying we’re going to be murdered. I’m just saying that eventually we are perhaps going to be bred out. That is of course if parents of children who are not Anglo allow their children to actually have a relationship with an Anglo, which from my experience is as likely as wings sprouting out from my back due to the overall strictness of their cultures. In fact, I’d probably go so far as to say that in a few years time, the Australian Anglo Saxon may very well join the humpback whale, polar bear and white tiger on the world’s endangered species list. Now, I’m not sure if this next point is pertinent to the present subject or not, but I do believe it highlights the point that Australia is filled with cultures that are not quintessentially Australian. Year 10, high school geography class. We are given a task; look at an atlas and discover the countries listed on the piece of paper. First person to do this successfully will be able to leave five minutes early as reward – quite the reward if you ask me since geography to me was as gratifying as running a cheese garter over my testicles. Suddenly, a student calls out ‘Sir! What is that oddly shaped country in the centre?’ The oddly shaped country he was pointing at – the one that was supposedly in the centre – what was it exactly? Australia.

So, basically that is all the essential features apparently which are necessary to build a true Aussie. Well, I get points for having a barbie. And maybe for the swearing. But apart from that, it would seem that I am about as Australian as an American French Fry. Is that wrong?

Poetry Discussion

 

This piece contains some explicit language. Additionally, I do not own the rights to any poems that I happen to mention, which are copyright of the original respective owners.

 

Am I a professional poet?

No.

Am what I about to write have any merit whatsoever?

Probably not.

But that is probably at the end of the day the best thing about poetry. It does not matter whether you are professionally published or just an individual writing what you believe freelance, because interpretation is the driving force behind poetry. A person can write a piece, and the author will have one interpretation – that which the poem is meant to be about in their mind, but a dozen other people could have a completely different opinion.

In university, I was taught this one ideology by my poetry lecturer, which was a discussion topic that began back in high school, how one should never be afraid to stipulate their beliefs on what a poetic product is, because it can be interpreted in so many different ways. Often a fiction novel will have only one interpretation available, but poetry is so more free and open.

There are differences of opinion. My poetry tutor in university, who was not my lecturer by the way, said there was only one true way to interpret poetry, and that is the way the author designed it. I would disagree on that count. Back when I was with a band, I remember writing the piece ‘I See You.’ Now yes, I have had many a discussion with people, teachers and students alike about whether lyrics and poetry share commonalities, and I would agree that they do, but it would ultimately depend on the piece. My year eleven literature teacher for instance compared the Wham song ‘Wake me up before you go go’ which was probably not a good choice to compare with poetry because it is best listened to musically rather than poetically. However, if you were to choose a piece like Amazed by Lonestar, such is more reminiscent of poetry. Anyway…the song I wrote for my band was a piece about regret. I clearly remember the first few lines going something like:
‘I don’t know if you saw me,
but I know I saw you,
looking the way all lovers do
when they look into your eyes,
caught within a paradise
of which I can’t escape from….’
Now, when this was performed to an audience consisting of around one hundred and fifty people, I would like to state that yes, they enjoyed it, but they interpreted it as a love piece. True, the chorus went:
‘Roses are red,
violets are blue,
you’re my girl
I’m hot for you.
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
realise I’m in love
when I see you
but, reminiscent of the opening line, ‘don’t know if you saw me’, eventually another verse followed with ‘or if you ever will’, which symbolised how the man knew of the woman and loved her, but the woman had not taken notice of him, nor ever would, hence, the idea of regret; not ever verbally confessing his feelings and hence having to watch her leave, believing her to be better than he was, which furthered the notion of never confessing to her how he felt. So, this demonstrates the notion of interpretation. A part of me may not have enjoyed the fact that my piece was interpreted differently than I had originally intended, but if those in the audience enjoyed the piece for the interpretation they had conjured in relation to it, then far be it from me to deny them this happiness. Additionally, Hoobastank’s ‘the reason’ was enjoyed by many, to such an extent that it was used as the song at their wedding, despite the fact that it too was a piece about regret, and the song from the Police, ‘every breath you take’ was believed to be about stalkers, but that was also used by many as the song at their wedding as well.
Poetically speaking however, Shakespeare’s Sonnet XVIII, ‘Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Day’, Is reminiscent of interpretation. There is the belief that it was written for his secret infatuation, a young, beautiful maiden, and there is also the going belief that he wrote it for a man that he cared for, which according to some could have also been his muse, hence, interpretation at work.

Again, interpretation can of course be applied to reality. For instance, the terms ‘climate change’ and ‘global warming.’ Climate change sounds quite negative – I mean, the climate is changing? And there is that whole unknown factor in the equation where we don’t know what it is changing into. But global warming? First thing that comes to mind when I hear such a term includes the likes of shirts, shorts and foxy ladies in bikinis. Bring on global warming I say with that kind of interpretation, but a big ‘NO!’ to climate change, which is quite humorous due to the fact that they are one and the same.

Now, apart from interpretation, the other aspect of poetry I find most intriguing is the way it is written. Unlike a novel, piece of prose or other like piece, a poem is not traditionally bound by the rules of grammar, and so one can cheat. This is not necessarily limited to the idea of false rhymes (time, line, etc; just because they are similar they can be used), no, not at all. I am making reference to an entire poetic piece in general. An average sentence in a written work of fiction requires good grammatical skills, punctuation and flowing dialogue to keep the sentences moving appropriately. This is not the case in poetry, in which one can purposefully toss these stereotypical rules out the door and change that which so many teachers have argued should never be changed. Many poets have indeed done this, including the likes of William Shakespeare, Andrew Marvell, John Forbes, John Keats and Sylvia Plath, just to name a couple of the many dozens of amazing talent that has blessed the world of poetry throughout the ages. Many of their well known pieces could be seen as making very little sense literally, and yet they were much loved for the content which was easy to decipher even when the notorious rules of grammar were temporarily relaxed.

This can also be furthered with the use of rhyme, stanzas and syllables. I used to find it difficult to enjoy a poem that did not rhyme, and now, after reading many pieces that did in fact not rhyme, I have become quite accustomed to it. Some pieces additionally use syllables, which I use in every single one of my pieces, but others never ever use. This is one more aspect of poetry that is so great. Any writer of poetry can create a piece and make it their own by changing the rules of the written word when it is used in poetic pieces. One can use different formed lines, with around then words in one and two in another; with fifteen syllable in one line, twelve in the next and three in the one that comes after that. This once again is symbolic of interpretation; one writer can believe a poem should be written in one particular style – and another can have a completely contradictory belief.

As for whom my favorite poets are? I don’t exactly have any. I prefer pieces, rather than poets, for many of them wrote a particular piece or two that I believed to be especially enjoyable. William Shakespeare and sonnets XVIII ‘Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Day’ and CXXX ‘My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.’ I enjoyed this piece because it would seem that Shakespeare is laughing at the stereotypical poetic method of writing about the woman you love. Many writers, including this unpublished soul have written pieces where we compare the woman in question to Heaven and other such outlandishly beautiful ideals, expressing her beauty, whether it be physical or internal to be unrealistically amazing. Yet in this piece, Shakespeare seems to be taking the piss out of the piece, by almost insulting the woman of whom he is displaying his affections for by depicting her the way she truly looks, which makes her seem almost hideous when in comparison to pieces where one compares the woman to impossible comparisons, when in fact he is but articulating the image of the natural flesh and blood woman.  XVIII on the other hand is enjoyable to me because it is quite the opposite of CXXX in that he is articulating the love he feels for the individual in question as being undying, and depicting this person as a ‘summer’s day’, which is exactly the opposite of the comparison’s in CXXX where he refers to the woman’s breasts as being ‘dun’ in colour. I of course use the term ‘person’ rather than ‘she’ because as already visited, it is yet to be determined by some as to whom he was writing this piece for. Additionally in the conclusion of the piece, Shakespeare makes the notion that he will allow the person to live forever within the verse with the line ‘so long lives this’, which could be reflective of the most amazing gift one can bestow onto another for Shakespeare is allowing them to be permanently remembered for all the years to come within the stanzas of the poem.

Andrew Marvell, and his piece ‘To His Coy Mistress’, which my Reading Contemporary Fiction lecturer described as not a love poem per se, but a poem about ‘fucking’ as he put it. Such references are quite subtle, but are explosive when you look at them in the context they are provided, with numerous vaginal references, including ‘the iron gates of life’, and the references consisting with the ravishing hunger for lustful romance with the idea of predators and prey and the idea of devouring the other. The biblical references at the beginning most sections of the piece fit well at this point where the author expresses basically his undying love, followed by his want to gaze upon the body of the woman, wanting two hundred years to adore each breast of the woman, followed by an additional thousand to marvel the remainder of her body’s feminine beauty. Basically, for the time this piece was quite bold, and its references speak loudly to this very day.

This piece and those of Shakespeare further the notion that poetry is undying. It does not matter if it is written today, ten years ago, a hundred years ago or four hundred years ago. All that time could go by and the references, messages and stories told in these poems reign just as true today as the day they were transcribed into words on paper.

The poem ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling is yet another piece I quite enjoy, for it is a very inspirational and beautiful piece from a father to his son. This poem explains the importance of life and the lessons one is to receive, and how one is to overcome the trails of life, which, if one is able to accomplish will allow them to succeed and enjoy in the richness of what this world has to offer. Of course, the poem also highlights the deceitful natures of bad natured men and to look out for these traits, and to live a life that is destined to be great and true rather than the malevolent opposite to this. Like I said – very inspirational.

Again, Ulysses by Alfred Tennyson is a piece that I find quite beautiful, but not in the message like the other pieces I have mentioned previously, but in the way that it has bane transcribed. The poetry makes references to aspects of history and to that of nature and the natural world in such a beautifully majestic way that one is almost incapable of not being fully immersed in the words. Everything whilst reading this piece seems almost to be an accurate depiction of what the world is. The poem is inspirational, yes, but not in the way that Kipling’s ‘If’ is, but in a way that it allows the reader to feel admiration for their surroundings and to look back on their life and to realise that they too have ‘enjoy’d greatly’ but also ‘suffer’d greatly’ too, but to never give up.

On another note, the poem ‘the flea’ by John Donne is yet another piece that has proven enjoyable, and, just like the piece by Marvell is a more sexualised variant. By sleeping with the man in question the woman will barely lose a thing; that is what the poem is about – the convincing of a young virgin of whom is quite prestigious yet young in a higher class society to bed a man who is less than her family’s stature, which some would consider a most heinous crime. However, the poem is written very smartly, for it was in this time that everyone had fleas, whether they be the rich or the poor (but perhaps the poor had a few more, rhymes! How sickening!), and the man makes reference to the flea bite as his argument – that such a tiny little bite is reflective of what will be lost when the woman sleeps with the man, which is a direct reference to the breaking of her hymen. Smart, sumptuous and quite bold for its time, this poem still reigns true to this day where men still attempt to come up with random reasons for ravishing damsels to sleep with them – with the exception that half the world no longer suffer from flea infestations, so if you happen to be lucky, or maybe unlucky enough to live in that most part of the world, such a poetic piece can no longer be visited as one’s argument.

Additionally John Keats would find his way onto my list, but I would not give mention to any of his pieces. Many a person has told me in previous poetic classes and such that they really enjoyed his pieces. I for one will have to say that some of his work leaves me feeling at a loss, although when he is romantic, which he always is, so what I mean to say is – when he is being blatantly romantic and one can clearly understand his meaning, it is then that his words and his meaning is all but flawless, and it is in those moments that you can almost feel the love dripping from each page like candle wax.

However, all of these poets one might notice, are not Australian. I realise that John Forbes is visualised as one of Australia’s most amazing poets, but I would not be one of them. I apologise for saying such things about a man who passed away, and at quite a young age too, but I found his pieces, and to this day when I on occasion go back and have another look at them, find such poetry to be quite depressing. To be frank, and perhaps not really masculine at the same time – I prefer romantic poetry, and I do not believe for a second that Mr. Forbes ever in his life wrote a poem that was quintessentially romantic in design or interpretation.

I was however once quite ignorant about poetry, believing all of it to be about seduction, which is initially what peaked my interest in it. I do suppose a part of me legitimately believed that if I was successful in understanding the poetic word, then I would be capable of finding the key to a woman’s heart and unlocking all the love that was inside for myself, so that I, and only I, would enjoy the fruitful delights that lay waiting on the other side. Any of the pieces I wrote, and the pieces I continue to write toady are reminiscent of this belief. For one, as previously mentioned, almost all are about romance, and two, some are based upon actual living, breathing people.

‘Hard to admit I love you’ in which I mentioned the woman in question was named ‘Rachel’ was actually about a woman, named Rachel, who was in my fiction writing class at university, and the sexual references displayed within the piece told the untold story of some of the fantasies I might indeed wish to experience with her.

The ‘Untitled Beauty’ poems are about Jedi master Aayla Secura from the Star Wars franchise, and additionally about a young woman who dressed up as said character for a ComicCon.

The poems ‘the Night Melbourne Died’, ‘I’m never going to be good enough for you’ and ‘No Death in Love’ are all reminiscent of the same woman who I had a crush on, and later discovered she had a boyfriend, the latter of the three being the last poem I ever wrote in relation to her which was more of a break up piece, like a poem that I used to officially get over her, whilst at the end making reference to the fact that if she ever wanted me all she had to do was say the word.

‘Unloved’ was a poem about a woman who I saw at university for about a minute from afar, and the piece ‘Metropolis Me’ was about a certain young actress who portrayed a certain masked character in the Mass Effect franchise, and the hypothetical notion of what it might have been like to have bene friends and to have grown up together.

But, I digress back onto the subject of Australian poets I like – there is only one: Tara Mokhtari. Although she is probably not widely recognised yet, her poetry has appeared in a number of literature magazines, and on sites across the web, including her personalised blog. I additionally know her to have worked in the television and theater industry, and to be on the verge of being the next J.K Rowling, Oz version. Her poetry ranges from those reminiscent of love, life, the making of mistakes and depression. A link to her poetic blog can be found here: http://taramokhtari.wordpress.com/ However, I do not think she has visited her page in quite a while…
Of course, I believe I am simply bias towards Ms. Mokhtari, because she was my creative writing tutor back in my first year of university, and I was quite attracted to her then, as I still am now, believing her to quite possibly be the single most sexiest Australian woman I have ever seen.

Additionally, online I would recommend the poetic work of the following WordPress users, if you are not already following their pages:

Maggie Mae: http://maggiemaeijustsaythis.wordpress.com

Coco J. Ginger: http://courtingmadness.wordpress.com/

KylaSpeaks13:  http://kaylaspeaks13.wordpress.com

Clown Ponders: http://clownponders.wordpress.com

Lindsaythomas20:  http://lindsaythomas20.wordpress.com

Mary Anne Pale: maryannepale.wordpress.com

I would however not recommend the work of Totalovrdose unless you are partially drunk (http://totalovrdose.wordpress.com/) because to recommend my own poetic blog would seem pretentious and egotistical.

I apologise to any poetry bloggers who I did not recommend. I myself am only following around ten or so blogs that incorporate poetry into their design, and this is just a random handful. I am certain there are millions of others online, all of whom I are sure to be quite deserving of an appreciative gander.

Well, that is all from me and my opinions on poetry, poets and pieces that I like.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerely and with kind regards,

Naughty Nefarious.

Do women date guys who wear glasses?

 

Yes? No? Well, if I was not asking this question I would obviously have the answer, and hence, would probably not need to write a post about this. My concern? Believe it or not, I wear glasses. That image I use for my profile – that’s me wearing contacts.

Now perhaps I am ignorant for believing such a thing, and perhaps I don’t have all the facts, but it is a subject that has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. I know it happens in television shows and movies, but I am not talking about those occurrences – I am making reference to reality.

Here’s a question for you – how often do you see a gorgeous woman in a relationship with a man wearing glasses? I for one, have only ever seen this once in my life. Yes, once. I am not including myself in this equation, for I am discounting me self from such a question. I guess I could argue if it happened to me it could happen to anyone, but I would disagree because my last girlfriend was not Australian. Yes, back to the contextual Australian dilemma.

I would argue that men who wear glasses don’t look as good as men who don’t, I mean, they do obscure part of one’s face, and they stand out quite incredibly. You can see those things from several miles away, especially if they’re those jet black plastic things goin’ round town these days. I’m not saying that women are quite sensitive about an issue and quite choosy, but I would argue that a better lookin’ man has a greater chance of having a relationship with someone than someone who is lacking in such a department. Looks ultimately are a big concern in today’s society. It is said that in under seven seconds upon meeting someone, a person has already come up with an opinion of who that person is and whether they will like them or not. Again, if you see two men in a punch on, a man who wears glasses and a man who doesn’t, regardless of size, shape and build, who will you bet your money on?

Furthermore, I think women have a far greater concern than looks and impressions in this theory…genetics. Many women are going to have children, and as I have discussed previously, whether or not they are intending to have children at a young age, I believe that somewhere in the back of their mind, even unconsciously, they are choosing men partially based on their genetic structure, so if the relationship continues long term and they have children, that said children will have the best genetic security to fulfill their lifelong endeavors. Now, yeah, men may be physically stronger, but men are also genetically inferior to women, cuz of the XY gene going on, whilst women have XX. Anyone who studied such a formula (its kinda mandatory in Australia so I’m gonna guess it is also for other countries as well) would know that the XX enables the person to not acquire every single bad genetic trait, although they can still carry it. Basically, if a man and a woman have a child, and the man wears glasses and the woman doesn’t, if they had a daughter, the child would not have an impairment of the eyes, but would carry the genetic fault. If the couple had a boy, and one parent wore glasses, then that child would need to wear glasses because they are not immune to such genetic traits due to the XY gene. They would also continue to carry this genetic trait, which means they have two doses of bad luck.

This however is not just limited to the eyes, but to every single trait in the body. I’m not saying that women question blokes about their genetic properties. I know I haven’t been, but I could list the amount of relationships I have had on a piece of paper approximately two by three centimeters in diameter. However, a woman would not need to ask if the condition is manifested physically and is plainly visible – they will know immediately.

However, I do believe this swings both ways kind of. I think men too care about looks and there are times when women I have known have told me that men did not make advancements on them because they wore glasses. One friend of mine told me that the guy recommended for her to consider contacts – then he would take her out. However, due to the fact that men do not carry the child in their womb for nine months and give birth to the next generation – I do not believe they consider this when they are looking for a partner.

But this is just my opinion. What are your thoughts?

Prometheus Review and 3D Effects

 

You know when you see a film and you just wanna talk about it? Well, that’s what I intend to do here. It was only yesterday that Prometheus came out in OZ, and it was today that I saw it at the cinema. I’m not too sure when it was released elsewhere in the world, but it often seems that Australia gets everything last, so for all I know it was released in the States ten years ago and we are only seeing it now. I mean, we only just received ‘Justified’ and in the States it’s up to season five? WTH!

Anyway, the review – Prometheus in Oz only came with an ‘M’ rating, probably due to the fact that there really isn’t very much blood. But that is not to say the film is not disturbing, cuz such would not be true. As a prequel to the ‘Alien’ franchise, Prometheus goes out of its way to change things up for its audience by presenting themes on the dawn of life, the creation of the alien species and that of humanity, and one has to admit that it is pretty interesting what the writers have done in this respect.

What the Alien franchise did however, apart from emphasising how if you want a good alien feature the creatures need to be dark, disturbing and really pissed off, is prove that women make pretty awesome protagonists. I remember in 2003, an entertainment magazine of sorts had a survey of which action hero would most people like to have come to their aid; Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Vin Diesel or Bruce Willis, and the end result came back Sigourney Weaver, which I think proves my point.

Prometheus does this again with Noomi Rapace who plays Elizabeth Shaw, the lead scientist on the expedition who basically got the whole thing underway with her words after convincing Mr. Weyland to go through with the mission and fork in all the money required for it. However, who would have known that Ms. Rapce was actually very beautiful when she doesn’t have all that shit in her face required for her role as Lisbeth Salander in the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series? I sure didn’t.

Like may female protagonists, Shaw uses her intellect to successfully navigate through the problems that occur, not being the stereotypical action man dragon slayer, which just goes to show how men are the action heroes cuz they go blasting into everything without thinking, whilst the women hang back and think it through before taking out their opponent with brains rather than balls. As a character, Shaw is a scientist as mentioned, but is grounded by her religious beliefs, and her faith has kept her going and motivated her to excel, which is a continued theme throughout.

The one character however that will probably intrigue you the most is the robot. Introduced at the start, he is quite the complex character, explaining how he has no emotions and does not care, but seems to contradict this by ensuring mission success of all that he is programmed to accomplish and using a rather darkened tone when emphasising certain ideas, often insulting those who he communicates with, before subtlety apologising, but doing so in a way that clearly states how he couldn’t care less. The most intriguing thing about his character however are his loyalties, and where they lie exactly; over the course of the feature he keeps switching positions from a character of whom is neutral, to a protagonist and then to an antagonist, before switching back to  a neutral one once more.

Additionally the film has a number of characters, this being introduced at the start with the mission computer expressing how there are eighteen passengers on board the vessel, which from the very start you can just tell means the writers have plenty of cast they can kill off, which they certainly go to town on as the film progresses. Safe to say, not everyone is going to live to see the conclusion. This is quite funny though, for most of the crew have a PhD in something or another, and yet one has to wonder why in films, even the smartest of characters still feel the need to bait an alien rather playfully as though they are an innocent child – even though they look like they are gonna truly screw the scientist over in the next few seconds which they always do. I will say this about the death scenes – when the creators of Prometheus kill someone, they REALLY kill them. People are gonna get burnt, blown up, melted, turned into alien monsters and have pieces of their bodies sliced and diced. Yes, good times.

On top of this, the film can be quite predictable, but not annoyingly so, for even if you know what is going to happen, it is either accomplished in such a disturbing, heart racing or exciting manner that it still captures your attention no matter what.

This is one thing the film does best – keep your attention, for even though the film goes crazy somewhere between half way to two thirds through the feature, it still mangers to keep you vested in watching it. The film has a lot of talking scenes and numerous explorations of science and religion, which do not clash as you might imagine, but seem to work harmoniously throughout the feature. Although these scenes are pertinent to the story, one sometimes has to wonder what Prometheus is – is it a science fiction feature, or a horror? Either way, the film seems to do a pretty good job at both.

Moreover, the special effects are absolutely out of this world awesome which will add to the attention grabbing properties of the film, however the amount of times you see aliens are quite infrequent, with the primary ones being humanoids. I am however not giving anything away by saying this because the opening of the feature introduces one of them to the character right before it commits suicide. They are quite human looking, with the difference that they are entirely bald and look as though there isn’t very much going on behind their jet black eyes, with huge muscular bodies, looking like they are part of a militarian race who believe that clothing either consists primarily of their birthday suits and metallic instruments. There are a couple additional scenes with face huggers, not the ones from the original franchise but ones that are incredibly different which just goes to show the audience the long line of evolution between 2094, when the film is set, and when the next one is almost, what, a century later?

The previous films seemed to be set quite a lot around breeding, I mean, the face huggers have that elongated sexual organ that they plunge into a human’s orifice to inject them with the next part of the evolutionary cycle? That is continued in this feature, in more ways than one, but rather loosely, with alien DNA being the primary bad guy rather than alien organisms.

The one thing about the film that was quite appalling were the 3D effects. Now, I don’t know if it was just the film, or the cinema I saw it in (Hoyts Xtremescreen, which according to the ad has better screen, sound and seating than all other venues and has the tendency to blow people right out of the cinema due to the quality). Okay, so a couple times a few particles came out, and closer towards the end when Shaw was running she came out of the screen, and I admit I was a little disappointed when she didn’t just fall straight into my lap, and the ‘depth’ wasn’t much to speak of either.

Yes, depth? What is depth? It seems that nowadays, depth is the new iconic 3D, and I would like to know what genius came up with that idea. I remember back in 1999, I saw a film at IMAX, where a group of archeologists dug up a Tyrannosaur skeleton, and throughout the film there were continuous 3D effects – rocks falling off a cliff and directly into your face. The egg they found cracking open, and the Tyrannosaur suddenly growing flesh in one’s mind and coming down to bite them, its face basically coming out an inch away from my nose. My point? Those days are gone, and 3D has been replaced with this pathetic excuse for imagery that is as 3D as an image a 2 year old could draw on a piece of paper.

I can only hope that 3D effects in the future become better than they are now and actually decide to come out at you. In fact, the most 3D thing about the film, was not the film at all, but the trailer for the upcoming Katy Perry behind the scenes feature, where glitter and beach balls came flying out of the screen, even Ms. Perry herself at one time jumping out and saying ‘hi!’

One thing that Prometheus will do is have you second guessing every jet black drink you will ever digest from this moment on. All in all, I give the film a 3.5 out of 5, or a 7 out of 10. I would see it again when it comes out on BluRay, but I probably would not make it a habit of watching it every night, or once a week for that matter.

How do you know if a woman likes you?

Really, if you came for advice, allow me to assure you of one thing – you sure ain’t gonna find it here. I didn’t develop the title of this post because I was going to discuss the sudden breakthrough I made of realising how women showed their affections towards you. No, not at all.

Now, I don’t know about other blokes, but I cannot read between the lines. Women give off so many different signs that one can interpret, that you would need a novel, or ten, to properly familiarise yourself with half of the different codes. I however, if it’s any conciliation, can tell when a woman doesn’t like me. That, I am good at. I don’t know about women from other places around the world, but if there’s one thing you can say about Australian women, it is that at least a third of them are blunt and open. I say that because at least a third of the women I have come across have indicated their distinct loathing towards me. Some I don’t even know, and they come outta the blue and up to me to explain ‘I hate your rotten guts’, but it is usually in not such nice terminology. The other thing you can say about that distinct third amount of women – they are not shy when it comes to expressing themselves.

Another great way to tell a woman doesn’t like you is if they go out of their way to avoid you – also a frequent occurrence in my life. In university, yes, even at university, I have noticed women walking down the hall I happen to be located in, spot me, and indicate to their friends that I am there by pointing at me, and like I am the creature from the black lagoon itself, they turn around and go, sometimes the long way around, to get to their endeavored location just so they can avoid me. This is still that third of the women I was talking about.

Now onto the other two thirds – they are the ones who refuse to communicate verbally, but with physical gesture. One could argue that if a woman notices you and speaks to her friends and they giggle that this is a good sign. One could even say that a woman who frequently looks at you is telling you something good as well. Or a woman who speaks to you often, or even a woman who says ‘hi’ to you, even though you have not spoken in several months. Perhaps even a woman who looks jealous when you talk about other women?

There is one thing I will say – whoever designed the male species, or at least whoever designed me, did a very piss poor job – because like I said, I cannot read between the lines, and nor can many other guys I have known. Hell, some have even given up whilst at university with the sole intention of pursing their studies. I wish that was me. It was my intention up until recently at least, but back onto the topic at hand. If a woman giggles to her friends after looking at you – they could be laughing at something someone else said, or hell, they could be laughing at you, who knows?! A woman who looks at you might be looking everywhere but at you, even if her eyes happen to come across your direction. You could be sitting next to the man of her dreams, or the woman of her dreams if she so happens to swing that way. A woman who speaks to you might have simply being raised to be courteous and kind, and a woman who looks jealous, well, she may have a thousand reasons for being so.

The end point here is INTERPRETATION. What the eyes see the mind interprets, and depending if you yourself are compromised romantically, the heart will determine this to be something of import as to further the belief that the woman is as affectionate towards you as your feelings are towards her. Like I said in a previous post ‘sometimes the heart is stupid’, and some of the themes already brought up in this piece are reminiscent of that discussion.

Unfortunately the only really good way to find out is to talk to her, which can be as simple as leaping out of an air plane without a chute. Yes, that is simple, I realise that, but I am trying to paint the picture that it is VERY DANGEROUS! Nuclear even! If you ask me, women, yes, do not have as many rights as men, and equality is an issue that needs to be invested in. But when it comes to relationships – I would like to state that women probably hold most of the power, especially when it comes to their dissolution. They plunge their fingers straight into the chest of the man who has feelings for them and rip out their still beating heart and hold it out before him for all to see. As his eyes glaze over, the last breath escaping from his lings, the woman tosses the heart like a pro cricket player as it slaps into the wall behind the location of the man, its red sticky surface connecting with the wall and lingering as it groans its final few beats. With that, it slides across the surface of the plaster before collapsing onto the ground, the red ooze that was once considered life beginning to drain from the once proud love organ, now rendered obsolete.

Women sometimes also have a tendency to talk. So too do men, but I’ve found women especially when it comes to who likes ‘em, unless of course they find the man asking them out or confessing his feelings to have humiliated them and by talking about such a thing would lesser their stature in the eyes of their friends. However, in cases not like that, women can talk about what happened, laugh and sigh and eventually, sooner rather than later, it’s like all the women in the city know about what went down. Not good at all.

So, apart from embarrassment, pain, loss, what else can come of this? Well, I do know what one can do in replace of – research. So many people have social media pages now, and many state if they have a partner. The only problem is that you need to be logged in to access such information, and sometimes you even need to be their ‘friend’ (bugger!). Also, some sites record who visited so one can find out who looked at their pages – when I say ‘research’, I mean discreetly – to get away with it as to not alert anyone to your planning. Have I done this? Once. Did it work? Well, it stopped me from pursuing the woman in question, and ultimately stopped me from acting the fool.

On another note, what do I think would be good? I know in Hawaii, in certain cultures women wear a flower in their hair on a certain side of their head, and depending on what side depends on their status – whether they are taken or solo, which can aid in one’s quest. It would also be good, if that one third of the women I talked about earlier, actually encompassed the entire percentage of them, which meant that all would confess their feelings whenever they wished. This however would not be so good if all the women in the world loathed your guts, but that is just the risk one would have to take.

So all in all I am assuming that nobody learnt anything from this post? Well, I know I sure didn’t learn anything I already didn’t. I began this post with no idea how to tell if a woman likes you, and I am about to leave with the exact same mind – a very empty one. I guess if you want information on this subject, either look it up on Google, or ask a woman to simply tell you the signs. They might not though, because the world of women is a secret society that few men are ever granted access to. I know I ain’t ever gonna be blessed with such a rite.

Well, that’s all for me and this post. Sorry for the lack of information folks!