The End is Near...

Nope not an apocalyptic thrift about the End of Days or the Coming of the Antichrist. Simply put, I have an exam tomorrow (my first of four actually) and I'm quaking in my academic boots. I sometimes wish I wasn't blessed with a confidence that severely outstrips my intellectual capacity. I can't accept inwardly that I am not humble, that everything will turn out for the best because it is destined to be so. One has to make things happen; and things have flown past me and I never had the audacity or courage to actually reach out and catch them. I've been too comfortable in my present situation to actually make a difference or mark some change. I am part of the problem in this world and nothing I say or do for the foreseeable future will make any sort of difference. I am procrastination, I am generation blog, I am the world's bleak future.

Chrome Dome

So I'm writing this new post on Chrome. Looks cool and looks promising. I wonder if our lives will be googled at some point in the near future. I wonder if we're the google generation already. We probably are, we just don't know it yet. I wonder what the next step is.

With Nothing to Do

Doing is something, like nothing is everything. OK, so it's almost six thirty and I'm bored out of my mind trying to shirk my academic duties. I need to find a creative means of escape, but I feel that all my creative energies have been sapped by the proverbial times of my life. Basically that I may no longer be a child. Then again I'm not an adult, since I still cling to the economic benefits of the familiar and have no source of personal income in my life. I am the perfect definition of a Modern-age Free Rider. I mooch and show nothing. I am as empty as the words I write. All my education has so far led to absolutely nothing. Apparently I'm bilingual and write some very interesting things, but again this proves to be fruitless.

I have no talents to spare, whatever they were, they have already been spent in the times of my youthful teenage youth. Now at 22 I'm old enough to realize that I'm talentless, but young enought to still wish that there is something at the end of the path. I really need to start writing something big, or small enough to cause a big impact. A story, a novel, a poem. Whatever gets the creative juices flowing and breaks away from the typical mold of today's society. Originality is dead, and I need to find my muse or trope.

Time is running out. And soon enough, I will have none.

LEVIATHAN

Because I'm in the middle of class listening to my teacher drone on about Thomas Hobbes and his most important work Leviathan, I decided to post a picture of a Leviathan. That's just how bored I am right now.

Rummaging through old memories: Part Deux

I managed to find a box containing several of my unfinished manuscripts and pages of several works that I had started in my younger untroubled teenage years. I have to fully admit that I was (and still feel that I am) a pretentious pompous ass who thought that writing grandiloquently is the mark of a good writer. Boy I was sadly mistaken. And even though law school manages to fill my niche for pompous writing, I have to find some sort of outlet to start writing real stuff. Anything I can think of...maybe short stories, maybe a full-fledged novel...

Maybe I can pick up some of my very clichéd characters to continue writing: the swashbuckling sci-fi hero Monk Storm, or maybe the Elven warrior Pelkerion the Axemaster. I still feel they are too mundane, and then again there isn't much originality left in the world, but I'm still in search of that one character, or cabal of characters to write about. I just haven't found them yet.

I'm still searching. Help is welcome.

Olympic Guffs

A little pause. Thank you.

During this time of year (especially now given the Olympic spirit) I've been perusing the web for interesting factoids about the Olympics...but I got bored pretty quickly and simply found these two videos, both from Winter Olympics, one from 2002 and the other from 2006. I've considered them the best reason to watch the Olympics, cause this doesn't happen that often.

Enjoy the Aussie Stephen Bradbury win the speed skating short track event, much to his surprise, and Lindsey Jacobellis throw away her gold medal in the attempt to make a very awesome method grab (this is why I prefer skiing).

STEPHEN BRADBURY


LINDSEY JACOBELLIS

Rummaging through old memories

I've decided to take a peek at my old writing files and search for any piece of literature that is worth posting. Some great writer wrote at some point in his life many years ago, that it's always better to keep on writing till you hit the mark. It's good and all to be one of those incredibly prolific writers who can dish out stuff like he's breathing high octane air, but for the rest of us mere mortals, inspiration is a hard bitch to come by. Sometimes even ritual sacrifices are in order to satisfy the lazy muse that's been too busy to answer your calls cause she'd rather spend her time texting her other muse friends explaining to them her recent breakup with her satyr boyfriend.

In any case, I intend at some point to post some of my verborragic crap here for anyone who sadly manages to come upon my little place by accident. Sort of like when you're driving from one big town to another and suddenly your car breaks down in the middle of Godknowswhere (population: 11 by the way) and then find that the little mom and pop diner in the town serves the best cake you've had in years.

I hope the cake isn't too stale.

Italian Spiderman

Conducting one of my many explorations of the wonderful world of YouTube, I found myself enthralled by the recent discovery of a wonderful piece of pop culture satire called Italian Spiderman. It has all the makings of an Internet cult classic, and I look forward to join the legion of fans that will create the undercurrent of a new kitsch movement. The story is nonsensical, and pokes fun at the meaningless B movies from the 1960's and 70's. The actors are horrible, the editing is poor, and the effects are both cheap and cheesy. So it gets full marks from me! The boys from Alrugo Studios have really gone out of their way to make the whole expierence a time capsule all in itself.

Enjoy the trailer!



Once you're done check out the ten uploaded episodes!

Back on Track

It has been way too long since I have written here. But I've turned over a new leaf and have decided to use my little plot of land in cyberspace to leave my mark by writing my absurd rantings at least twice a week. It's going to be a monumental task, but I'll begin thinking of interesting stuff to write about, if not I'll just start writing nonsensical phrasings and pastiches from my latest installments of failed book chapters and short stories. Hope you enjoy!

The Incredible 80's Cartoon Extravaganza

For those of you who don't get it, or are a bit too young to remember, I've made the video thingy on the side panel show different cartoon intros from the 1980's. I know they're not all there, but at least the ones I loved watching the most. (I also admit that Jem was a guilty pleasure even though I was a five year old kid addicted to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles).

Noctambulatory Pangs

I find myself staring at a gold pocket watch, watching how its hands slowly move along its circular surface and tell me that it's almost twenty past five in the morning. I still haven't gone to sleep, and I hardly think that I will at any point today. Maybe it's the incessant napping I do during the day, in order to avoid the dreary fact that it's winter, and the sun goes down way too quickly. That's not to say that I don't pride myself on being a denizen of the night, since I feel more creative when the shining darkness is around me. Of course that sounds weird, and obviously it's some cliché I probably ripped off some cheesy movie, but can you blame me? I seriously doubt that there is anything truly original out there (like that sentence I just wrote), but then again if we get mixed up in that argument we'll keep going round in circles till someone begs that we switch over to a triangular format.

It's the absence of my voice, and the hard clicking that my fingers do against the keyboard that echo within the walls of my room (well not actually my room, but the room where the computer's at). Though I am a very talkative person, and I believe there is at least a dozen people that can testify to that, I simply love shutting down my physical voice and give in to my inner ones. Much like my conscience which I believe has a very nonchalant voice. I still don't know whether it's my ego, super ego or that other psychological person that head doctors keep talking about. In any case, that voice in my head also happens to be the one that recites the crap I write in almost any media; and though it sounds Shakespearean in my head, I'm pretty sure it's more near the awful line most of the time. In any case I digress, I still haven't learned it's name yet, my conscience that is, and most likely he'll never tell me (don't ask me why I said he, but that's the only sure thing I know, my conscience has a masculine demeanor about it...read however you want into that).

I'll just keep writing until I come up with something witty, which I guess won't be anytime soon, but bear with me and help me untangle myself from this accursed writers block that keeps appearing like some left-wing teenage rabble that needs to protest about the state of trees in some godforsaken park (did that make any sense whatsoever??) . I have written some very good things in my forays into creative writing; some even were pretty clever, with a surreal kind of humor I've always liked to play with. But lately this hasn't been the case since I've found myself writing some very unoriginal high fantasy stories that require little to almost no imagination. Then again, those stories are more likely to be attempts to get out of the writers block by any means necessary; kind of like in a James Bond movie, when our hero is 'forced' to systematically torture a henchman in order to get the main villain's hideout (Stavro Bloefeld is a good choice I think...played by Savalas of course). I hope that at some point I stop writing this inconsistent drivel and pummel out something with flesh in it. Till now this looks more like a processed McDonalds hamburger: it has the taste and the colors, but will it really satisfy and make you truly happy?

Let's give up here, since I feel the oncoming army of Zees marching near my eardrums; they'll buzz for a while until I finally rocket off to dreamland and dream weird things which I will not remember once I wake up. I can feel the corniness of that line sprout around me. Maybe I'll start a popcorn brand at some point.