And I've Been Doing What?

Merry Christmas to y'all. I've been very busy for the last couple of weeks. My time has been taken up with shopping for presents (shopping centres are hell in December by the way), starting another new novel (which I'm sure will go further than the last, hopefully) and hearing the same Katy Perry songs on the radio (she is like everywhere now).

But, I've also finished reading The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffeneger (hope I've spelt her name right). I'd already heard about the book years ago, and I became intrigued when I learnt that it actually involved time travel, and my good friend Janet from TAFE said good things about it too.

What I really want to say is that it is one of the best re-imagined sci-fi's I've ever come across. I actually hate the author now because I want to write in the same genre, but I'm affraid that I won't be as good as her. Time will tell though. Anyway, 'tis was a bitchin' read and a special thanks goes out to Janet for getting me into it. DON'T DENY IT DEAR!

I know I'll be seeing the movie when it comes out. I'm a Rachel McAdams fan I am.
Merry Christmas people, and have a happy new year.

Stowaway

Hello, for anyone who read my previous posting, you should know that I was conflicted about what I should be writing. Now I do know what I want to do, and that is my sci-fi, which I am currently calling Stowaway. This is only a working title, so there might be another emerging in the future.

Anyway, my new novel is about a woman named Monica Edmondson. I've chosen her first name because it means alone, and her surname because it is a tribute to the character Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson, played by Leah Cairns in Battlestar Galactica. Monica learns that she can unwillingly travel through time and space, which she has no control over.

Monica find herself travelling to the age of slavery in New Orleans, and all the way to the year 2931, where Egypt has emerged as one of the most powerful nations in the world. This doesn't sit well for Monica, because she'd much rather go home to her daughter, Freya. What makes things worse is that Freya ages 23 years, whilst Monica only ages 10.

I'm planning to capture a more realistic side in sci-fi, whilst also mixed with a bit of humour. I'm also writing it in the first person narrative, because I'm done with those damn POV changes that Monday Esme taught me to hate so much. Also, I'm going to do a lot more research for this, and I've already started.

I will be posting more details about the novel as I write it. I'm already passed 8,000 words, so that is a good sign. Another thing is that I've included four pre-existing people into my novel, so George, Amber, Catherine and Justen, you shall be famous.

Cheers

I'm Conflicted

Hello again, and might I add, the weather sucks a little. Any of the ways, I am conflicted about my writing. I recently got my novel homework back from Monday Esme (I passed by the way) and I'm not really sure what to do with the novel I'm writing now. One of my thoughts is to finish it, because a few people have been gunning to read it and I don't want to disappoint.

One of my reason for this is that I rushed into it blind (aka I was writing about something that I had no personal knowledge or experience about), and I find it remarkable that I got over 300 pages written. It did work for Stephanie Meyer, so I'm not all that surprised now. Anyway, Monday Esme suggested that I treat it like an apprentice piece (I'm pretty sure she meant practice novel) and I'm starting to agree with her.

But, I'm unsure of what to go on with next. Monday Esme suggested that I write from life (which was one of my intentions in life believe it or not), and I have a few ideas, but nothing rock solid. On the other hand, I do have some ideas for speculative fiction which I've been gunning to write for years now.

One would have to be my series, which I'm going to start re-writing one of these days (the first finished draft was terrible). I figured that since JK Rowling, Philip Pullman and several American writers can come up with a series, I guess I could too. Wouldn't mind being apart of that crowd.

Another idea of mine is a science fiction storie mixed with realism. It incorporates time and space travel with a single mother desperate to be with her daughter who ages twenty years whilst she ages about seven or ten. I've been wanting to write something like this, ever since I saw Children of Men and The Fountain, and since it will focus on a time travelling woman, it might be seen as a welcome change in time travelling characters (I know The Doctor from Doctor Who travels with a lot of female companions, but they don't work the TARDIS... with the exception of Donna Noble in her last episode).

I'm looking forward to some feedback, because I'm desperate for some... and some positive feedback in case you're wondering dear sister. None of your regular judgemental s**t.

My Sister's New Keeper

Greetinkos, and for anyone who doesn't know... I'm a little peeved with my sister, y'all. The reason for this is because she has a boyfriend now, and I'm annoyed because I was the last family member to find out! Dammit!

Now I don't have anything against the boyfriend. I met him on Saturday and he's a nice guy, and I liked him even more after the sister said that he wasn't a Scientologist. Thank Gawd! But I'm still dis-pleased with the sister.

I mean, who went with her to Queensland huh? Who considered writing a Lit for Children essay for her. Who unwillingly agreed to be her punching bag for years on end. It was me, and I'm the last one to find out about her new gentleman associate.

I'm not happy...

The Old Woman For VeeNee

Greetings to anyone who's reading this. I've been very busy for the past few days, what with my good self finally getting employment at a timber yard. It's been very good indeed. I do what is most likely the easiest job there... salvaging, and the workers there have been nice to me... all though I think I pissed one of them off by unknowingly taking his seat in the rec. room.

Any of the way, today I brought along my "scratch book" because I got pretty bored during the breaks, and the workers liked what I drew (ie- the image to your right). My main reason for coming up with this is because a good friend of mine, whom I shall call VeeNee, has put me to shame with her own spectacular drawings.

Now VeeNee has returned to her native Mauritius, so I'm hoping that she'll end up seeing this from her island paradise (to be honest, I'm not entirely sure if it is a paradise. I don't know that much about Mauritius, all though at one time I thought they served deep-fried swans). So, I'm hoping that VeeNee can have a look at this one, and any comments from my regular viewers (ie- Chappi-Clementina, Svnof, Janet etc.) would be lovely... hint, hint.

PS. Watching a movie by Guillermo del Toro is inspiring... Pan's Labyrinth to be extact.

The Epiphany

Greetinko's to all. Yesterday was a very good day for my, because I finally wrote the best part of my novel. I'd been gunning to write this chapter since last year, so I was very pleased with myself once it was done.

The chapter involved my novel's possibly main antagonist getting what he deserved for killing a few people. One of my three protagonists shot him in the back, and another will scare him shiteless. I'm very happy.

Apart from that, I helped my Mum do a bit of gardening, which wasn't bad. I was surprised to see how many young people were buying vegetable seedlings at Bunning's on Sunday. Now I want to return and buy a fruit tree.

Another good thing happened today. The temp agency I'm registered at called with a job offer. I unfortunately did not get it because I learnt about the offer from the answering machine, and the position had been filled. Damnation! But my fingers are crossed for tomorrow.

Yesterday Was The Last

Well, it happened. Yesterday was my last day of TAFE. Graduation is in a month, but I've finally finished with learning stuff... for a while. This was something I just needed to talk about (in the style of Daria). It was worth it, and now I can work on my novel a lot more.

PS. Hi, I'm Daria... go to hell.
-Jane Lane as Daria Morgandaughfer

It's Like Fight Club Meets Thirteen

Greetings all. A few weeks ago my schools writing festival was on, and it was compulsory to attend. I did go, and I enjoyed it I did. Anyway, my main reason for going was to see James Phelan speak and get him to sign his books for me (which he did. Score). And on the same day, another thriller writer, Andrew Hutchinson, was talking about his book Rohypnol.

I was curious about the book, and had asked a few lady friends who had read it. They said it was good, so I go and get a copy. Basically, the book is about a gang of private school boys (probably Xavier) who go out, drug girls and rape them. Pretty taboo I thought, but I read the whole thing in about seven or eight hours, and I loved it... and was scared too.

The book was different because it's narrated through the eyes of the main character who is basically the monster. I don't come across much fiction with this premise, so it was a welcomed change. Also, it had a very dark and angry tone. The inner monologues about 'New Punk' were freaky, but good.

Another good aspect was that I didn't know whether or not to feel sympathy for the narrator, or hate him. I thought he was just naieve and willing to do anything to fit in with the cool crowd (do drugs, perve on female teachers etc.) but in the end I thought he was a bigger bad-arse than the actually bad guy, Thorly.

So those are my thoughts. I understand why some people at the festival told Hutchinson that he scared them. If I'd read the book before that day, I'd of told him the same thing... whilst getting it signed. No matter, and then I decided to add him to my list of scariest people. Hutchinson must contend with Lost and Fringe actor Lance Reddick. He is just freaky.

Second Wave

Greetings good readers (whether you actually exist is still to be learnt). I have been very busy at the moment, what with end-of-year assignments to be handed in. Some of them include an annalytical essay, a short story and about 20,000 words of a novel.

Anyway, I have found the time to post a drawing I finished last week. I wanted to submit it to my schools anthology, but my teacher didn't want anything with a grey scale. Naturally, I am feeling a little peeved, but I shall bounce back.

I call this drawing "Second Wave". I got the idea from the painting "The Wave", which was painted by a Japanese artist. Sadly I do not remember the artists name, but he or she had a lot to do with this drawing. I hope you enjoy it.

Something I Just Did

As of late, I've been doing a little bit of drawing to pass the time, plus there's a good chance that I could have some pictures published soon, provided that other people like them enough.

Plus my good friend Calliope has been bugging me to post my art on the internet.

I have named the first drawing "Nymph", simply because it is a woman growing out of a tree. I quite like that way the black pencil in the hair stands out.

The second drawing I have named "Pigeon Boy". I got the idea for this drawing from my teacher Maria who was showing us photos of her son playing with some pigeons in Venice.

Hope you enjoy these my dear Calliope, and anyone else who will look at them... more will come soon, promise.

Needy, Ears and Dignity

This week in short story, my good teacher who I shall call Maria (How do you solve a problem like Maria?) had us talking about love. Apparently it is our theme for our next short stories, and I'm pretty confident that I'll get mine right. Anywho, she had us write out these little practises, and she thought mine was funny, yet it did not follow the guidlines of the assignment. Enjoy.

Needy coughed, 'They always take me for granted! Stuck up bastards!'

'Don't let it get you down,' answered Ears.

'No, those wankers... all of them... think that I just expect to be ignored. Nah, not happening anymore mate.'

'What're you gonna do about it?' Ears asked with as much enthusiasm to rival a teapot.

'You know what,' said Needy. 'I don't think I'll do anything.'

'Really.'

'That's right. Let those ungrateful idiots suffer without my divine guidence.'

'So you're basically letting 'em burn in hell... and you're gonna watch.'

'Exactly,' Needy answered, producing a cheesy smile.

'Well, sounds like you're set, mate.'

'I certainly am. Maybe, I'll even have some spare time now. A lot of spare time.'

'You gonna write that award winning novel you tell your mum about?'

'That's right. A lot of free time.'

'Wonderful.'

'Hey, you wanna come out tonight? Celebrate my success,' Needy suggested, admiring himself in the nearest reflection.

'No thanks. I've got a date tonight.'

'Oooh, with who? Anyone I know?'

'You used too. Their name's dignity.'

'Oh... my... God,' Needy gasped. 'You're going out with a guy.'

His eyes lit up before sticking his head out the window. 'Ears is dating a guy!' Needy proclaimed to the streets.

'Yes, that's right,' Ears answered. 'You must feel so proud for learning such a thing.' Needy continued to call out to the streets, and Ears left the room, locking him in.

Where Do I Get My Grenades At?

Last year in novel, my teacher (we'll call him Ari) had us rewrite the lyrics of I AM WOMAN by Helen Reddy and Ray Burton to accomodate for the bogans of the world. We all had good fun, so this is what I produced.

I'm a bogan watch me gore
We drink in packs of four of more
And I know fuck all so I guess I can't pretend
'cause you've bitched it all before
When I throw up on the floor
And I can't be stuffed to clean that shit up again

CHORUS

Oh yes, I am wide
And it's cracksores all again
Yes, I skipped the price
But look at the weight that I just gained
If I feel like it, I won't do anything
I am bum (bum)
I am unbearable (unbearable)
I am bogan

You can slap and kick me down
'cause it's what everybody wants
More determined to demolish me dingy hole
And I come back smelling pongier
Not a genius any longer
'cause you've doubled me conviction for assault

CHORUS

I am bogan hear me groan
See me stand up for the court
Cos I threw me outstretched hands around your neck
But I'm still a fat yobbo
With a fat arsed way to go
Until I make my first parole

Oh yes, I am wide
And it's cracksores all again
Yes, I skipped the price
But look at the weight I just gained
If I feel like it, I won't do anything
I am bum (bum)
I am unbearable (unbearable)
I am bogan
Oh, I am bogan
I am unbearable
I am bum

REPEAT FINAL LINES AND FADE

I Thought This Would Be Hard

For the final novel class of the term, my teacher, who I shall call Monday Esme (I have two teachers I'll call Esme, one for Monday and the other on Friday), instructed us to write a sex scene. Many of us were nervous, and a little shy. I'll have to say that my friend, who I'll call Janet, might have been scared since she writes for children.

But Monday Esme made it easy, and boy did she. The sex scene had to be awkward she tells us, and I thought... I can work with this. So, over the course of a Sunday afternoon, I wrote my scene, which I then read to my mother who couldn't help but laugh. Everyone else who heard it laughed as well, so I thought again... this could work.

Garritt and Stella were giggling, much like young lovers did on their first time. They were rolling around under the sheets, quickly undressing. 'Hurry up with those,' Stella told him. She was ready to slip the condom on him.

'I'm going, I'm going. Why don't you slow down a bit,' Garritt answered.

'I'm never slow, now hurry up. House is on soon!'

'Yeah, yeah.' A few seconds later his underwear were thrown across the room, hitting the cupboard door. 'There, they're off.'

'Oh my God!'

'What the hell is wrong now?'

'Oh my God, Becky!' Stella shouted, getting off of the bed. She wrapped herself up in the sheets.

'What the hell is wrong with you?' Garritt asked, looking needy.

'You're pierced down there?'

'Wha? Oh yeah, I am. Had it for years.'

'How can you be pierced down there?'

'It was a group decision,' he answered, 'now come back to bed. You said you'd do it with me.'

'Not with your little friend like that. What if it... gets hooked on me.'

'It won't. Hasn't happened before.'

'Don't tell me that,' Stella shouted whilst pacing the floor. 'This isn't going to happen mate.'

'Come on!' he whined.

'No! Honestly, why couldn't it be a little tatt saying All Aboard Sailors.'

'Can't get a tatt,' Garritt told her. 'Mum said it was a ring or nothing.'

'You're mum wanted you to get it down there?'

'Nah, she said anywhere was fine by her.'

My Enchanted Flying Elephant

This here is a piece of writing I did for my editing class. Our teacher, who I'll call Esme told us the pieces we'd have written would go into an anthology, but I recently learnt that Esme told us a little phib. To be honest, I didn't mind since I could just blog my work, and I couldn't help but praise Esme on her ability to lie so convincingly. The greatest liars in the world are generally the most honest ones.

Anyway, the prose I had written was meant to incorporate the them "Immunise Your Soul". To be honest, I didn't have much of an idea of what to write, so I just did what I always do when I'm stuck on something, a mindless rant. I hope you readers (if you truely do exist) enjoy this.

Immunise your soul, what the hell? I mean; what am I supposed to do with this, huh, save the damn world? Of course the world needs saving, what with Krispy Kreme and Tom Cruise running around. That man's like a plague, I tell you.

Anyway, that's what I thought when I was given this theme. When I read these three little words, the first thing that popped into my head was 'meh'. I guess I could work with this. We had an 'average' word length and the option of writing prose or a poetry as well.

Big whoop, big whoopity whoop, I thought. This might be a walk in the park for all I knew, or else. When I think of that, I imagine walking through a room overflowing with Paris Hilton wannabes, suitably dubbed Parisites.

However, it just might be an afternoon with the Parisites, simply because I've got no fucking idea as to what 'immunise your soul' bloody means. I thought about it long and hard, on the train, during dinner, when I was delivering newspapers for a ridiculously small fee.

I thought I was screwed, just like Britney Spears every day of the damn week. But then I remembered the one thing that could help me. It was ever so clear and out there, yet I'd overlooked it completely. Guess the brainwashing by Wikipedia is to blame for that, convenient bastards.

I am of course talking about... (wait for it) the dictionary. Oh what a joy it is... to school boys who have no lives to speak of, my friend Ingles, and Malcolm X. Why he copied it out when he was doing time and told his spiritual leader all about it, I'll never know. To be honest, I saw it as more of a lifesaver, except dark blue and in the shape of an oblong.

So, I looked up what the damn theme means, and in short form it means, protect your damn soul you doped-up hippie wanker. I thought: How am I going to do this one? Ever so thought provoking... I thought, and then I thought some more, then I ran away, and then I thought some more.

Then, after having my drink spiked by a back-stabbing family member who knows I don't consume alcohol, I decided I couldn't work with this at all. I mean, something could be done with this theme, by someone else. If I took it I could have turned the human soul into an ostrich egg and shoved it up the arse of a tortoise for protection. A giant tortoise to be exact.

There could be so many ways in which to use this theme, yet I knew of none of them. Madness, that's what I thought about it, and then I thought about ice-cream. Surely there was something out there for my good self, but in the end, there wasn't.

After my long, arduous journey to think up an idea for this theme, I humbly got up on my enchanted flying elephant... which was also a robot if you're wondering, and flew away to escape the plague of destruction Krispy Kreme has in store for us. And then it hit me, why not write about the trouble I had with using this theme.

The writing teachers are always encouraging us to not use cliches, share our little diarrhoer inducing berries, and most importantly, be creative. So that's what I did, and here is what I came up with; a page and a half of mindless dribble that will most likely wind up in a cat's litter box somewhere.

I certainly hope you enjoyed the BS I pulled out of my arse. I know Svnof did... well, not all of it.

There Are Too Many Blonds!

Greetings people, just thought I'd tell you all that I've decided to do away with my original plan of writing blog stories about vampires. The decision struck me when I realised that I honestly could not be stuffed with it. Besides, I've got other problems to deal with, such as how my throat is currently on fire.

That's right, I am sick and in pain. Don't really know how it started (don't go blaming wearing shorts in the summer) but I'm hoping my disease will either move on to another unfortunate bastard or disappear completely. Fingers crossed. Besides, this "new" doctor I saw yesterday gave me some medicine which I'm hoping will do the trick sooner than later.

So, my main ranting for today is about the show Heroes. I've been watching it since it started, and one things I've noticed (apart from the fact that Claire Bennet and Peter Petrelli are such emo's now) is that most of the women on the show are blonds. What the hell I said to my good self.

Honestly, they have way to many of them. You've got Hayden Panettiere, Ali Larter, Kristen Bell, Jessalyn Gilsig, Brea Grant etc. I know it's all "speculative fiction", but in that you've got to use a fare bit of realism. One example would definately have to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which pulled that off spectacularly.

So that's what I've got to say for the moment, there are too many blonds in the world of Heroes. Real life is fine, because when you're walking down a street and you see seven of them, you're bound to run into nineteen or so brunettes.

PS. Claire and Peter are such emo's!

My Intended Postings

I have recently been looking at the vampire characters of Joss Whedon (best known for Buffy and Serenity) and I've been thinking (yes Kat, I can think), I wouldn't mind creating some of my own little vamps and posting their stories for you good people to hear. What do you think?

I have one in mind, which has been inspired by two characters. One is a Whedon character most people know as Darla. For anyone who doesn't know, Darla is one of his oldest characters and the reason behind the mistake that is Angel (damn I hate him). She was portrayed by Julie Benz who is now on Dexter.

The other character is a cylon from the new Battlestar Galactica (yes, I know I'm a hard core fan, but do I care about the negativity, no). Anyway, her name is Gina Inviere and she's one of the Number Six models played by Tricia Helfer.

So anyway, these two ladies of fiction sort of inspired a vampire character of mine, which, now that I think of it, I will write about on my dear blog. Don't worry about thinking about it now, I'll just start when I can be buggered. Peace.

PS. I'm thinking of naming my vampire after a famous fictional character. Try to figure out which one it is.

Guitar Heroes, How I'm Not One Of Them

My good friends from school, who we'll call Ray and Joanie for this posting were having one of their get gatherings, so I decided to go. I'd missed out on the other two for personal reasons, and my other option for what to do this evening was to attend my brothers dinner thing on Russell St with his friends. Since the Church of Scientology is on Russell St I decided to attend my friends party since I'm pretty sure the church has me on one of their hit lists.

Anyway, tonight wasn't so bad. It was one of those parties where the things you don't regularly see occur, such as a rat named after Stevie Nix, a small bagpipe on the wall and a samurai sword standing up in the corner. Anyway, amongst all of that was the game that nearly everyone I know is talking about, Guitar Hero.

We were all giving it a try, and when I did it I pretty much butchered a KISS song. I was pretty sure Joanie was gonna hurt me since she's a huge KISS fan, but nothing happened. Any of the ways, I decided that this night was the makings of a good posting. Not great, but good. Also my friend, who we'll call Burt was acting like a drugged up groupie at some point, so I think that was pretty memorable too.

Good night to you good people who read my random BS.
PS. To Crazy Chik, wherever you are in the great wide Europe, I just want you to know that I got your text message, and yes, I know you pulled out your gun. Here's to seeing you on Border Patrol, because me and Svnof are looking forward to that. You'll boost ratings.

That's Right, I'm A Writer

So I'm in my Literature class today, and we're learning about modernism. Nothing much sticks out to me, but I learn it anyway, and soon enough my teacher has us doing some writing tasks. The first one is that we had to read a book or document, take five or six lines and turn it into a bit of a poem.

I'm currently reading On The Road by Jack Kerouac, so I took some lines from that and created this little number,

It was a war with social overtones,
He put an ordinary fan in a window frame,
Then it finally happened,
We got to the house where the waitress sisters lived,
It was a wonderful night.

Not too shabby if I don't say so myself. The other writing task was to take an object and write a few lines about it. I took a black coffee mug, and I ended up with some badly written haiku.

Made of cold clay,
Smooth and curved,
Dark as the night,
Easily breakable.

I thought it was a bit crap, but two women in my class (we'll call them Delia and Meg) thought it was really good. Surprised I was. Delia had been praising me for some of the things I'd brought up in class discussions, so I guess she was on a role. Also, Delia and Meg do a bit of poetry, so I guess they know the good stuff when they hear it.

That's all for now good bloggers. Peace.

They've Done It Again

Let's talk about my two favourite girls, Chappi-Clementina and Svnof. I was watching their favourite show last night, Criminal Minds, and their number one character on it, JJ, killed the guy who was going after Garcia. All was good, and after seeing her pop the barstard in the head, I knew Chappi-Clementina and Svnof were going to be talking about this.

So I arrived at my publishing class this morning and Chappi-Clementina was there, and soon enough I brought up JJ and they were talking about how great she is. I kept laughing, as per usual, and then Chappi-Clementina starts saying how great it would be to get shot by JJ herself, and how she wouldn't want the bullet removed.

She started telling me, 'If JJ shoots me, and the doctors try to remove the bullet, I'll say "no, no, leave it in".' That's just one of the many quotes she's taken from The Simpsons, specifically the episode where Sherry Bobbins comes in and Marge's hive is able to support a beach umbrella, and Homer tells her to leave it in whilst they're having sex.

Anyway, Chappi-Clementina, Svnof and my goodself were pissing ourselves whenever one of us used that line. Surprisingly enough we weren't cracking up our friend Bugsy, who is easy to crack up. No matter, once again my hat goes off to Chappi-Clementina and Svnof. Well done you crazy bitches.

No, It's Not Super Sweet... Idiots

Let's get back to the topic of crazy all right, and how it's gotten different everywhere you look. I am of course refering to that stupid MTV show Super Sweet Sixteenth, and the idiot teenagers they've got on it.

I saw a part of it today, and the boy (yes, it was a boy this time) was planning his 16th. Now this rich little punk was getting ready for the damn thing, and he got all drama queen wanker when his hair was cut too short. Oh my God! I wanted to jump in there and slam my fist into his face.

I just want to say, that show is PATHETIC. Every rich little barstard and biotch on it is so stuck up and in the end they get their own little prom which they can't decide whether to go to or not in the end. I don't even envy them, except for the part where Rihanna rocked up to one of those parties.

That's all I've got to say on the matter, that yankee rich kids are pathetic and they should be poor, or attacked by face-huggers. Whatever comes first.

And I Pull Out My Gun!

Okay, let's talk about different types of crazy. In all of my nineteen years, I've seen a lot of this so-called crazy shite, but in the last few years I've noticed that it's gotten a little out of hand. This I've seen in films, television and of course... in real life.

I'd like to bring up the best type of crazy though, the all too dear... Crazy Chik. The chik (yes, I spell it with two C's) is by far the maddest person I've ever met, and it works for her. Crazy Chik, who we'll call Chappi-Clementina just keeps coming up with the funniest lines EVER! For instance, the title of this posting is one of her many quotes.

Sure, it might not sound too funny, but when Chappi-Clementina says it, everyone starts laughing. For instance, she will say "I was reading my Deathproof script, and I pull out my gun!" Another quote she loves using is "It begins!" which was stolen from The Simpsons if anyone's wondering.

Oh, and let's not forget... the plan. Since my goodself, Chappi-Clementina and our other friend, who we'll call Sailor Venus's Number One Fan, don't care much for Krispy Kreme donuts, we've convinced ourselves that anyone whose eaten one will turn into a zombie and the world will end. So, we've prepared ourselves for such a thing.

Our plan is to drive around in an armoured truck and survive the damn thing whilst listening to freaky old time bands such as Hanson's Mmm Bop! and The Spice Girls if we remember too. I, who have eaten Krispy Kreme (I know, it's a shame), will be half-zombie and will be sitting on top of the armoured truck in a banana chair ready to shoot the zombie Tom Cruise with my toilet plunger gun.

Sailor Venus's Number One Fan (we'll call her Svnof- ooh, I've Sweded her) will be sitting inside of the armoured truck ready to change the music and scream out in joy when Chappi-Clementina says Girlicious. And of course, Chappi-Clementina will be driving the damn truck because she's the only one of us who has her P's.

If you're wondering how she'll be driving the truck, just go and watch Quetin Tarantino's Deathproof and pay very close attention to the character Kim Mathis, played by Tracie Thoms. Chappi-Clementina is basically the white version of Kim, and when I told her this, she felt damn proud about it.

Yes, that's all I can tell you about us, the amazing the trio. We're hoping to have a movie made about us, and in it Svnof will be played by triplets, and I shall be played by a killer robot driving instructor named Sicko. Oh, and the name of the movie And I Pull Out My Gun!

No, It's Not All Good Atticus

So I'm having a decent day today. I went out with Mum to have lunch with some family at an RSL in Coburg, where my Grandpa lives. It was a good day, I had steak and I also won the woopie cushion that my aunt was gunning for. Not only that, I also found out where Anthony Koutoufides's restaurant is which is good since my sister and I are planning an adventure there.

But something isn't right about today. I am of course talking... about air. Why is there so much of it people. Don't we have enough of it? Can't we send it to another planet? I don't know, I'm just posting mindless dribble. Another thing I'd like to talk about are... beetroot. Why does it exist, well, that's natures fault. Why the hell can't it just die out like the power that the Nazis held over the Jews.

So this all I have to say really, because Atticus demanded it. I hope you're proud of this Atticus, because like the title suggests, it's not all good! Thanks for listening.

Here You Are Calliope

For a while now some people have been telling to throw some art onto my blog. I've been meaning to, since my blog doesn't look too flash in the visual sense, but now I've got an image.

I originally painted an image like this for my VCE Art folio, but I realised that it would look a whole lot better done in charcoal.

I have named it Old Women in New Kenya. For my folio I decided to do cultures as my theme, and Kenya was one of them. The others included Guatemala, Italy, Thailand and Spain.

Anyway, I chose Kenya because I wanted to depict how the industrial world is taking over the country, and how it might do away with the tribal culture.

I painted these women because I decided to incorporate them into every painting that I did. The idea for these women comes from Rachel Marete, a former Miss Kenya who had this nice tattoo on her forehead. A knock-off tatt has been drawn on the middle woman's forehead too.

This is what I hope is the first of many images, and for my sister Atticus and friend Calliope, please get off my back about posting my art. It's done, and more will come. Promise.

Don't Go There

Today had its downers I'm sorry to say. My sister Atticus/Blanche was working at the Shrine in Melbourne, and my mother and I were going to meet up with her so we could go to the museum. So, when we get off the train we get something to eat, and I suggest Lord of the Fries, which is this new place that my sister kept telling me about.

So we go there and I order some chips and chicken nuggets, and they were just damn auful. First of all Mum wouldn't eat the chips because the guy serving us covered them in tomato sauce (mostly my fault) and she doesn't care for the sauce so much. Second, she take one bit of the nuggets and cannot stand them.

I asked her what was wrong, and she said they sucked. I try them too, and I agreed with her. They were terrible. Honestly, if they didn't taste like rubber they were tasting like a juiced-up prawn. Oh how we did not enjoy lunch today.

Lord of the Fries I think not. They're more like the Lord of the Lies.

Rusty, the Original Good One

My other postings have been regarded as quite humorous by those who have read them. Apparently I possess the ability to make people laugh with my random scribblings about Mexico, stealing my mothers wine, Bionica from Gladiators and most of all, nothing. But now I'm going to be a little bit serious. When I mean serious, I will be using real names.

A tragic event occurred for my family this morning. Our pet dog of eighteen years, Rusty, passed away. Like most people, we were very upset, because like the title suggests, he was the Original Good One. Anyone who knows me will understand what a "good one" is, and that's the best type of person ever!

Rusty was very devoted to us, and everyone else who knew him. We all loved him to pieces, so we've got some grieving ahead of us. The hole he's left here will never be filled again. This hasn't been a good year for us, since we've already lost three people who were close to us. But I can't help but remember the good times we had with Rusty.

We first learnt of his existence back when I was in kindergarten. My uncle Chris called my Dad up and said this scruffy brown dog had jumped off of a truck and had walked into his factory. He took a liking to him, and deemed the dog too lovely to be sent to a pound. Next thing you know, he's calling Dad and the next day my parents and I are going to the factory to meet this creature.
Dad was a bit skeptical about taking the dog home, since my Mum wasn't big on them at the time. However, their minds changed when they saw how much fun I was having with the dog. At the time I didn't know that we were going to take the dog home with us. My highlight of that day was when I got some dim sims for my lunch.

Everything started to come together when I got home from kindergarten that day. When my brother and sister (who most of you will know as Babette and Blanche, but are really named Graeme and Kathlene) came home from school they took a liking to him as well. We were all patting him when Mum and Dad told us that he was ours to keep, and Dad had named him Rusty.

After that things became a little hectic. For instance, after getting him, Rusty tried to escape twice. His attempts failed, but when he saw us giving him free food, he decided to stick around, for the next decade or so.

Another funny thing to happen was when my friend Samantha's mum saw him in the driveway. One of his legs was out of view, and questioned whether or not it had been amputated. We got a good laugh out of that.

Over time everything was pretty average, and Rusty was getting a little bit of a paunch. We had to put him on a diet, which I don't think he cared for so much. Eventually he became an over-sized sausage dog, which we were fine with.

Unfortunately something happened that I did not for see. I was in year seven, it was the end of the day and this kid runs up to me and says, "Hey Brian, I heard you've got a fat dog." Now I had no idea how this kid knew about Rusty, and I didn't even know who the kid was. Eventually I found out and over time I became good friends with Degszy.

Anyway, some other kids started talking about Rusty, and I didn't care much for the dialogue. Soon enough I made it clear that my dog was off limits, and those who didn't care for my warning received a fist in the stomach (bit of an overstatement). But everyone soon decided to put the topic to rest, and when they all saw him at my eighteenth years later, they loved him.

Over the years we started to believe that he had some cat in him. What I mean is that he seemed to have about nine lives, since he'd been cheating death every so often. One time he was bitten on the neck by a white-tailed spider, and he recovered from that. Another was when he was having fits during the summer from the year before, and he got over them too.

Unfortunately he ran out of lives and simply wore out. I guess he just decided to stop after 126 of human years. His passing happened on the morning of July 2nd, 2008 at 2:30 (rough estimate). He went peacefully in my brothers arms, and then the tears started.

We will always miss our beloved Rusty. He was always a member of the family, despite being of a different species, but that didn't mater. Wherever he is now, we hope you're happy and barking at people you don't know. If you see anyone we know, you're in good hands.

Rest in peace Rusty.

Finally!

As most people would know, I am a massive fan of Gladiators and I try to catch every episode, provided nobody is wasting my time. Anyway, I was most pleased with last nights episode, mainly because Bionica finally competed one on one against Jacquie the Mighty Mouse.

Now I'm a big fan of hers (say what you will, because I don't care) and up until last night I never saw her play a game on her own. She was always working with the other female Gladiators.

To be honest I was a little worried that she might not do the one on one thing (not being sexual you perves), but last night she proved me wrong. Now she's cannot be replaced as one of my top four (the others being Scar, Olympia and Kouta).

Well done Bionica.
PS. Atticus, if you keep giving me weak comments we're gonna have issues.

About My Fan Club

First of all, special thanks to Atticus Sampson for your comments about "The One Blanche Wanted". They were very nice and un-offensive. I hope others can follow your shining example. Also, I'd like to thank Blanche for getting me to write that post. You and Atticus are one in the same you are.

Now, for this post I'd like to talk about Mexico, that colourful country where supplies half the cast of Ugly Betty. Anyway, I happen to love Mexico, and it's on the top of my list of places to go once I've got a passport and money to travel.

I love it so much my hotmail address is la_mexican, and my art idol is the legendary Frida Kahlo. The uno-brow aside, I still think your amazing. I love Mexico so much that I've quite possibly created the greatest Mexican character there is (over statement). She's a firery little lass in my science fantasy series, and heres hoping that she'll be played by Salma Hayek in any adaptations one day.

Anyway, I'd like to talk about how Mexico seems to like me, or at least its many citizens who get hotmail. Apparently my address la_mexican has caused many of it's citizens to add me as one of their contacts. Everyweek I get e-mails from Enrique's, Marisol's and Julio's, asking me if they can become one of my contacts.

I am very flattered by all of this, really, but I'm very cautious about who I add as my friends. I mean their are some freaky people surfing the net, and I honestly don't want anything to do with them. They give me the heebee jeebees (quote by Johnny Sullivan from In America- brilliant film and they were robbed of their best screenplay Oscar. Damn Sofia Coppola).

That is all I really have to say on the matter of Mexico. I may say more in the future, I may not. It depends on wether or not America can wow me with their series The Wire. Have a good day readers, and Atticus/Blanche.

The One Blanche Wanted

So my sister, who some of you may know as Atticus Sampson (the movie quote queen- that's a bit of an overstatement) has demanded that I write a new entry for my blog. So I've been wondering what I should write, and I asked myself over and over again.

Then fortune smiled on me, when Mum was drinking her wine. Now I have an annoying habit of stealing my mothers wine and hiding it from her, and she has to find it with the few hints that I give her. Todays little event was most humurous.

I did it twice today, the first being ruined by my brother (we shall call him Babette) who found it for her and then mocked me for my actions. Anyway, I did it again whilst she was playing one of her computer games and hid it in Babette's room. It was about an hour and a half before she realised that it was missing.

She called me the usual names, which I'm quite fond of now, and I reminded her that it was her fault because I was a planned pregnancy. Moving on, I give her her first hint, which was Z, Z, Z. Wondering what it meant, she did.

Mum started running through all of the rooms looking for it, and I just laughed. She wanted another hint, and I think I snored (like the thing people do when they're sleeping). She took it to heart, and went through the rooms again. Didn't find it.

In the end I just started messing with her mind. Once was when we we're in the livingroom, and she said "hot or cold". I said, "Yes Mum, the lava lamp is hot, and the Coca-Cola bottle lamp that's filled with water is cold". She didn't like that, but eventually she made it to Babette's room, for the third time.

She took a long hard look, and still couldn't find it. I then tell her to close her eyes, and I start spinning her around on the spot. After a minute I stop her and she finally finds her wine. Oh how I laughed, and oh how she wanted to throw something at me. Well done anyway Mum.

PS. For my good friend Big Ross, the Greatest Garden Gnome who ever lived who sadly passed away this year, what do you think. You may not be able to annoy Mum anymore, but you should know that I'm still here to continue your work. Rest In Peace.

The Re-Invented Sha-Bang

I've always been a fan of sci-fi (the good stuff, which doesn't include the s**t Smallville). When I mean good stuff, I mean The Fountain, The Matrix Trilogy, Gattaca, Dark City, Alien Quadrilogy, Twelve Monkeys and Children of Men.

I love how the writers and directors have mixed the sci-fi elements of these films up with others, like fantasy, religion and drama, and I have to say, they work really effing well. The Matrix Trilogy for one gave new meaning to the concept of a human/machine war.

I especially liked how they turned religious and mythological beings (gods, goddesses, avatars, vampires etc) into machines and programs in human form. My favourites include Persephone (Monica Bellucci) and Rama Kandra (Bernard White) and Kamala (Tharini Mudarliar), who I thought added a good touch to the films.

I just love it! For anyone who's new to my blog, I just want to make it clear, I am a nerd. Judge if you will, but I probably won't care that much. Syke!

It Begins!

Sup, my name is Minotaur (Not real name, it's the one I'd use if I were a Gladiator). I am a fan of Battlestar Galactica (the new one with the female Starbuck), a part-time artist, lover of independent and arthouse films, and a writer, here in the wonderful land of Oz (Australia), and I've started this here blog so I can show you what I get up to when I'm writing.

I'm also going to state my outrageous objections towards unruly letterboxes, ticket inspectors and Tom Cruise when his trainwreck of a mug is in the media.

Just for the record, I am not blogging so I can follow in the footsteps of Diablo Cody (of Juno fame), all though she is one of the wittiest writers I've ever heard of. And no, I'm not becoming a stripper either.