I haven't written anything for nearly two weeks now. I guess i'm doing the world a great thing, i mean, a drought of my proverbial smartass is probably easing that cramp on society's aching back. But me being the uncouth person that I am, decided that modern culture's respite from my colorfully tasteful litany (think skittles; pop them in, then taste the rainbow) should be short-lived and unexpected (think the Spice Girls reunion concert). So adieu, C'est la Vie, the ranting shall begin and the benign shall weep.
My first rant comes from the fact I am piss-broke. The coffers of ye olde' gold are nearly depleted and income arrives slower than the Sex Pistol's new album. Add to the fact that the season of merry spending and plentiful giving is upon us, and you've got one desperate boy looking for the good greens. So how did my deliberate displacement of happen to arise? Apparently, when you're still a fucking teenager, you've no sense of responsibility of whatever happens to excrete itself from your wallet. Actually, I have no clue where all my hard-earned savings went. Bah, better well spent at Scruffy Murphy's or Greater union than saved for my retirement fund.
Secondly, I've become a full-fledged English tutor for year 11 and 12 infants now. No really, this shit is soon to be my permanent occupation starting from the next month or so. What do I know about teaching English? Squat. Zilch. Nada. But whatever, my employer (an actual, legitimate, human whose wardrobe contents have a net-worth more than my entire life. He's still a metrosexual in the closet) is paying me, most suitably a below-award wage to get me started. Any concerns? Worries that should I fail, I would probably drag my students into an academic oblivion? None whatsoever. I'm so confident, I've already used a third of this post to subliminally advertise my wares. And you thought the marketing crew at Burger King was shameless.
After all, Advertising is a moderated and rigorous practice with strict guidelines, while self-promotion is a welcome and esteemed act of personal righteousness. Put them together, and you get this post, minus the moderation. So to all the young children unadulterated by life's whims reading here. Come, you pay me, me teach you good English. Long time.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
'okay, hurl my innocent bones to the cruel machine of war'
So it's been proposed. Underway. Sort of like an early hiatus. I'm going to write a novel.
Sounds like a pretty ambitious idea for a kid just finished 13 years of education, with little to no experience whatsoever in the big jungle they call real life. In fact, each step of his own longevity is a carefully molded experience aimed to transition the child into an adult. This transience, they call adolescence.
So what facts did i end up learning about life? Add a shot of Chuck Palahniuk and Richard Price. Nothing too C.S Lewis, mix in the jaded experiences of teen angst, introversion and enough smutty jokes to make a crystal clear beverage clearly aimed to fuck social discourse harder than absinthe.
Maybe, just maybe - i might give nary a reader a slight tingle around the neck area with that.
That is to say, contemporaries these days might be asking for messed up shit. We're living in a society where we've become so desensitised, nothing effects us any more. We need something that'll make us feel. Make us think. Make us want to REACT. We need our fight clubs, our coke cartels and enough drug abuse to make ourselves feel much better about our slowly declining lifestyles. It's a trend, the heroic epics of The Odyssey or even Gilgamesh would be remembered - as a memory. Instead, you've got the daft nihilism of Tyler Durden - that's the statement.
I'm cool with that. I'm cool with the notion of racism; of entire holocausts centred toward the righteous and economically healthy; of sexual effigies where not even a dirty word is left out of a sentence; hell we need subversion against society; of situations so screwed, that you can't help but compel yourself to read on. On a personal level, I find it much easier to devour words of hate, distaste and bitter angst than of Austen-like proportions (much easier as in enjoyable, not more preferable).
Ultimately, it's my own opinion. My own bias based upon what I deem as enjoyable, what 'sells' will invariably affect the ways in which I write. Which brings me to my next problem. With that, the illustration of a father's child rearing ways surface. There is no definite consolidation that the father's child will grow up a good kid. Despite the father's own efforts, his work, his careful balance - the kid could turn into a societal menace. Herein, lies the problem. Perception. I can take criticism, within good reasoning and justification; but in when writing a novel, it changes.
My perception of a screw-up may be someone's own perception of weightless gold. Hell, 'at first you don't succeed, try and try again'. But like the mental psyche of a child, you can't just alter the composition suited to your needing. Or maybe you can, maybe it just takes a hellava lot of skill and effort which I've none of or am i even remotely qualified to at the moment. (read: 18 year old introspective youth. Not Hank Moody). If that's the case, no matter how hard I'll polish it, a turd will still be a turd.
In terms of perspective, here be two pieces of wise words, the first from my ever-intelligent, ever-sexy and always spoken about(insert whipping noise here. Go on, I know you want to) girlfriend and the second from a person who has probably a lot more experience in the fields of literature than I have:
"If you're going to write a book, make a name. Your first book is supposed to sell, appeal to the mass markets. Not about anything niche, nobody wants that - not until they realise who you are and how well you craft your writing" - Cathy. Always the intrinsic one, bringing down a feathery-headed boy to reality. I always adore this sort of neutrality and long-term objective mentality she's got. (make more whipping noises. I dare you.) Either that, or she just wants her name written on the front jacket of an international bestseller.
"You think shock value is important? Find meaning first." - Jonathan.
Hence my hiatus. My pseudo-writer's block. ideas and no direction, motivation, yet nothing tangible. Ready, yet procrastinatory. I need more time. I need more ideas. I need more opinions. I need a tape recorder. I need sources. I need to link my ideas. I need to shut up and get something started.
Sounds like a pretty ambitious idea for a kid just finished 13 years of education, with little to no experience whatsoever in the big jungle they call real life. In fact, each step of his own longevity is a carefully molded experience aimed to transition the child into an adult. This transience, they call adolescence.
So what facts did i end up learning about life? Add a shot of Chuck Palahniuk and Richard Price. Nothing too C.S Lewis, mix in the jaded experiences of teen angst, introversion and enough smutty jokes to make a crystal clear beverage clearly aimed to fuck social discourse harder than absinthe.
Maybe, just maybe - i might give nary a reader a slight tingle around the neck area with that.
That is to say, contemporaries these days might be asking for messed up shit. We're living in a society where we've become so desensitised, nothing effects us any more. We need something that'll make us feel. Make us think. Make us want to REACT. We need our fight clubs, our coke cartels and enough drug abuse to make ourselves feel much better about our slowly declining lifestyles. It's a trend, the heroic epics of The Odyssey or even Gilgamesh would be remembered - as a memory. Instead, you've got the daft nihilism of Tyler Durden - that's the statement.
I'm cool with that. I'm cool with the notion of racism; of entire holocausts centred toward the righteous and economically healthy; of sexual effigies where not even a dirty word is left out of a sentence; hell we need subversion against society; of situations so screwed, that you can't help but compel yourself to read on. On a personal level, I find it much easier to devour words of hate, distaste and bitter angst than of Austen-like proportions (much easier as in enjoyable, not more preferable).
Ultimately, it's my own opinion. My own bias based upon what I deem as enjoyable, what 'sells' will invariably affect the ways in which I write. Which brings me to my next problem. With that, the illustration of a father's child rearing ways surface. There is no definite consolidation that the father's child will grow up a good kid. Despite the father's own efforts, his work, his careful balance - the kid could turn into a societal menace. Herein, lies the problem. Perception. I can take criticism, within good reasoning and justification; but in when writing a novel, it changes.
My perception of a screw-up may be someone's own perception of weightless gold. Hell, 'at first you don't succeed, try and try again'. But like the mental psyche of a child, you can't just alter the composition suited to your needing. Or maybe you can, maybe it just takes a hellava lot of skill and effort which I've none of or am i even remotely qualified to at the moment. (read: 18 year old introspective youth. Not Hank Moody). If that's the case, no matter how hard I'll polish it, a turd will still be a turd.
In terms of perspective, here be two pieces of wise words, the first from my ever-intelligent, ever-sexy and always spoken about(insert whipping noise here. Go on, I know you want to) girlfriend and the second from a person who has probably a lot more experience in the fields of literature than I have:
"If you're going to write a book, make a name. Your first book is supposed to sell, appeal to the mass markets. Not about anything niche, nobody wants that - not until they realise who you are and how well you craft your writing" - Cathy. Always the intrinsic one, bringing down a feathery-headed boy to reality. I always adore this sort of neutrality and long-term objective mentality she's got. (make more whipping noises. I dare you.) Either that, or she just wants her name written on the front jacket of an international bestseller.
"You think shock value is important? Find meaning first." - Jonathan.
Hence my hiatus. My pseudo-writer's block. ideas and no direction, motivation, yet nothing tangible. Ready, yet procrastinatory. I need more time. I need more ideas. I need more opinions. I need a tape recorder. I need sources. I need to link my ideas. I need to shut up and get something started.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Get busy livin'
ID number: 17339338.
Center number: 253
DOB: 01/09/89
Convicted of: 11 years of effortless education, three counts of repeated failure to comply to subjects, one count larceny toward a business studies teacher, one count uncivil behaviour toward a Phys. Ed. Teacher, numerous counts verbal discrimination toward the ignorant.
Parole date: 5.11.07. Released upon completion of course. Behaviour levels minimal.
Reason for Parole Grant: 'I've been institutionalised. I can now enter the realm of society a safe and changed citizen with moral rights and an ethical upstanding.'
Center number: 253
DOB: 01/09/89
Convicted of: 11 years of effortless education, three counts of repeated failure to comply to subjects, one count larceny toward a business studies teacher, one count uncivil behaviour toward a Phys. Ed. Teacher, numerous counts verbal discrimination toward the ignorant.
Parole date: 5.11.07. Released upon completion of course. Behaviour levels minimal.
Reason for Parole Grant: 'I've been institutionalised. I can now enter the realm of society a safe and changed citizen with moral rights and an ethical upstanding.'
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