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My blog, where I store those thoughts rattling around my brain |
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Welcome to the insanity of my mind! Please excuse the cobwebs and clutter, I've been meaning to clean the place up a bit... Stop in and read some of my nonsense whenever the mood strikes you :) |
| Each day, a new beginning with constant struggle. If your problems start winning better learn to juggle. Stay the course and don't look back Hesitation is defeat If confidence is what you lack keep moving to the beat. This river will wash you away, an unforgiving tide, leading weaker wills astray unless you keep stride. Don't lose focus on those goals Fight with all you got On this road are countless souls who started and forgot. |
All I know Time is a valuable thing Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings Watch it count down to the end of the day The clock ticks life away If there was an organization that specialized in Time, creating a task force that hunted down chrono-criminals with extreme prejudice... Yours truly would be in BIG trouble. I'm a murderer. Yes, you heard that right. There is blood on these hands, typing out the twisted details of my last spree. This weekend, I tracked down Father Time and brutally killed that sucker. Never even saw it coming, poor bastard. One second it was Friday evening and the next thing I knew it was Monday morning. This has happened before, don't get me wrong. It ain't my first rodeo. I'll just have to lay low for a bit and do some work to maintain my cover. But it's so hard not to get back into bad habits. Already I can feel the urges itching, pushing me to gather as much Time as I can and put it in the trash can outside. Oh, is that wasteful? You have no idea. I always thought it was interesting how we all view this incorporeal concept in unique ways. You value your time. There is a price on it, an agreement that you will invest it with the employer of your choosing in exchange for a weekly stipend. Time is money, after all. But it's more than that. I'm a devout believer in taking my time with nearly every facet of life. No need to rush, each move requires careful consideration. Pushing urgency on me only seems to result in digging in my heels. My time is precious and I'm very selfish. Does the word sound weird yet? It's going to by the time you finish this entry. There is something to be said about how we judge things at various points in life. As a kid, you could spend hours doing nonsense your older self would scoff at. "Look, I built a house made out of toothpicks!" But all you can see is a gross misuse of your temporal budget. "Get back to your homework," You sniff. Experience adds a new tint to the lens through which we view the world. Trial and error give us the lessons we should have learned long ago, but it's never too late to practice what you preach. (Oh that's rich, ya damn slacker. Get off the blog and start writing.) Excuse me, I do what I want. Lose the attitude, dude. (Oh yeah? Do you plan on making up for the days you missed? So far you are negative 2000 words buckaroo.) Unless you count the words I just typed... (Cheater cheater pumpkin eater) Can I please finish? You're actively derailing my train of thought here. (Like you finished your last hundred stories?) .... you done? (.... yeah.) We still on for poker tomorrow? (Only if you want to lose money) Uh-huh. You're gonna eat those words, buddy. Sorry about that. Now where was I? Oh yes... I was talking about my nemesis. Time. Of which I am running out. Story of my life. Now if you excuse me, I have responsibilities to ignore and a long day of procrastination planned. If you need me, I'll be setting up a high-stakes poker game. Come by if you'd like me to deal you in. You'll have a great time, I promise. |
| Someone once told me that writing is a lonely business. Quite right. There's nothing but your mind and the blank page, a setting where you control the entire show and have no one to turn to in the midst of it. Small wonder many authors question themselves. Who else is there to reign us in? All editing happens after creation. (Unless you nitpick as you go, an extremely slow and frustrating process.) Have you ever read an old story and find yourself wondering how you managed to get everything right on the first try? That rarely happens again, relish it. I sometimes wonder if I wasn't possessed by the spirit of an ancient playwright, occasionally you have lightning in a bottle and fail to replicate those results on the next try. Come back, ghost! Finish what you started here, my mind is mush. Back to the drawing board, I guess. One week left until I have to present my story to the rest of the Mad Geniuses. *cracks knuckles* Let's get to it, then. |
| If life was like a video game, consequences could be fixed by loading a previous save, and trying again with useful knowledge. The simplest tasks would be lucrative, farming takes on a whole new meaning, nobody would get lost because the right way is always filled with enemies. Each stranger has a quest for you Gaining experience adds strength plus a handy skill tree to unlock insane physics-defying powers. Death? Why that's only temporary a button press, a loading screen then we're back! But unfortunately... you forgot to save three years ago. Nobody gets hungry or sick, (unless those are built-in mechanics) Health is restored instantly Just by walking over bandaids. I would be someone ridiculous an oversized sword on my back wearing questionable clothes which I looted from a dumpster goblin. Give me wings, a jet pack, springs for feet, An open world to wreak mayhem with my friends and a villain to vanquish after an especially difficult boss fight. If life was a video game, would we win? Or is it destined to be played forever always chasing that impossible high-score across our digital universe. |
| I was looking online for tips to get back into writing and found several exercises. One of which was to simply just type whatever comes to mind, stream of consciousness style. So here I am, rambling on about nonsense. A few of my fellow writers agreed to collaborate on a project. Well, that isn't quite right, we opted to pick a prompt and work on something to keep our imaginations active. So far we have a bunch of nonsensical ideas and are voting to pick one from the pot. I just wish I could figure out how to keep going on the projects I started. Discipline is something I am sorely in need of. Can I hire someone to lock me in a room with nothing but a typewriter? Not even a computer, those are far too distracting. Just give me an old-fashioned writing instrument and keep me away from anything remotely technological. Why are phones so addicting? Damn those cursed rectangles. They seem to absorb all of your time and leave you wondering where the day went. It's no wonder why people are so apathetic these days. Why bother going outside when you can live vicariously through others? Why bother thinking and formulating your own ideas when you can watch a reaction video telling you how to feel? Hm, this is becoming a bit of a rant. Did I work off enough rust? Is my brain ready to get back to storming or am I going to mindlessly wander through the internet and giggle at cat videos? Truly, this modern age is a tricky one to navigate. Guess I should get back to hacking away at the keyboard and throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks. Hopefully I can stick with my goal of 1000 words a day. Some days I can get twice that and not break a sweat. And then we have today where I struggle to get out a mere hundred. Wish me luck, dear readers! |
| I just realized I didn't post my thoughts on the finale. While the first two episodes were excellent, this was a bit poorer in terms of quality. There is a time skip and it presents an interesting concept but it goes nowhere fast sadly. Instead of going for a more science fiction route and uncovering the secrets of Dracula, (like how the first episode began), this final chapter chooses an emotional climax which it achieves with some success. But this comes at the loss of more interesting storylines and time spent meandering with characters that I never had much interest in. The "new" Agatha is a bit lackluster and spends most of her time fawning over the charismatic count and cleaning up his messes. She never is angry with him, even when he murders dozens of people. It's almost like they shrug it off, as if he can't help it. The poor thing was hungry, after all. But while the finale falters in places, there are some brilliant bits here and there. Dracula is in fine form here, devilishly cheeky and ever ravenous. Seeing how he navigates modern society was interesting but it felt a bit strange how nobody wants to hunt him down and study his blood. There was a moment where I thought the Van Helsing Organization was going to be the world's supernatural task force, hunting down monsters and capturing specimens for further research. This is something many movies and shows have tried and failed. Perhaps that's why the writers opted for a subversive twist with Renfield. But one wonders why Zoe didn't fight it more, that was a bit odd. My favorite part had to be the children of the night reference, it was a morbid scene that was built up nicely. Overall, wonderful show with some fresh new ideas. I just wish they stuck the landing a bit more. |
| Well, that was quite an episode. Dracula was in rare form here, making himself known to everyone and chewing up the scenery (and several unfortunate souls). If I had to make any complaints, it was that some of the characters made typical dumb horror movie decisions. If not for that, it would have been a perfect episode. But it's still incredible. I want to talk about it but there's too much I don't want to spoil. Agatha is amazing here, with wonderful development and excellent dialogue. Her chats with the Count were my personal highlight. Great twists as well, I confess they got me! Not as gruesome as episode one but still bloody enough to satisfy my appetite :D Watch it! You won't be disappointed. |
| Initially, I had my doubts about the 'new' (2020) Dracula TV show, seeing as there have been dozens of movies and shows depicting the infamous count and his unquenchable thirst. What new ground could this rendition break, I wondered? Hasn't it all been done to death? (Or undeath) If not for the constant goading of a close friend, I would have been content to ignore it and go about my business. So how was it? Roughly halfway through the first episode, I was hooked. There are some rough patches to be sure and some creative decisions I was not a fan of but overall it was a solid piece of horror. Each episode runs about the same length as the average movie, so there is plenty of Gothic goodness to sink your fangs into. Dracula himself is absolutely wonderful. Equal parts witty and wicked, he oozes charisma and malice whenever he slinks on screen. The other characters are played with varying degrees of success, but they are fairly serviceable against the brooding backdrops and twisting halls. Most of them are going to die anyway, so just sit back and enjoy the show! I'm only one episode in with two more left in the season but so far it has 'remixed' the classic tale as we know it and given a bit of freshness to those musty pages. It's a bit too modern in terms of sensibilities, especially with a certain nun who is very much out of place in the late Victorian era. At times her dialogue is a bit too... smug? On the nose? "Religion is a waste of time, God doesn't care, I'm only in a convent because like many women I'm trapped in a loveless marriage so I can put a roof over my head." I paraphrase of course. These are fine lines and I don't disagree with the message but it's a bit odd to have a character spouting this in a period piece. It would be comparable to a peasant in medieval times lamenting the woes of feudalism and demanding a democratic government be instilled. Anachronistic. That's the word I was looking for. Agatha Van Hellsing is a character with anachronistic views and it takes me out of this very immersive show. Dracula can get away with it at times because he is an immortal being who reads minds and acquires knowledge through blood. A few cheeky quips here and there aren't out of line. But a sequestered nun? Oh but she's a scientist too. Guess that makes sense...? Minor nitpicks aside, I grew to appreciate Agatha but I wish she was a bit more well written. I won't even comment on Mina. I'm getting ready to watch the next episode and will post my thoughts :) |
| My father always said there was nothing sweeter than a beer after a hard day’s work. For him, it was exhausting to sit on a couch and squint at an old CRT screen while cursing out the blurry players throwing a pigskin around. Thankfully I didn’t inherit that work ethic after I left home. But I definitely acquired his thirst. In my defense, hardly any janitor is a teetotaler. Wiping up filthy surfaces after the worst of humanity expels their foul byproducts has a way of destroying any desire for sobriety. Yes, I’ve seen some s***. Don’t bother asking, you really don’t want to know. And I’d prefer not to have those hideous recollections festering in my mind. After each shift, I do my best to forget. So when I glimpsed a colorful placard advertising dollar drafts, it felt like a signal from the universe that it was Miller Time. The dive bar was a grungy, seedy affair. I often passed it on my way to more inviting haunts like bustling sports pubs or trendy grills. But cheap booze is awfully hard to pass up. Especially when you make peanuts like me. “Sinner’s Respite,” the wooden sign proclaimed, swinging gently in the evening breeze. I raised an eyebrow at the old-fashioned cartoon below the name. A time-worn devil was tossing back a frothy ale while another sun-faded demon belched fire, something I found both charming and slightly questionable. A thick haze of smoke and dingy lighting enveloped me upon entering, sounds of glasses clinking, harsh laughter, and curses cutting through the stale cigarette fog. Even before my eyes adjusted to the murky interior, I knew a rough crowd when I heard it. I couldn’t have looked more out of place in a sea of leather, tattoos, and scars. But not everyone had a biker fetish. There was a few clean-cut suit types at the pool table, some shady hoodies in a booth, and an old-timer with a paddy cap nursing a whiskey. And here I was, striding in with my blue jeans and a white t-shirt. This was the moment in a movie when the entire bar goes silent at the approach of a newcomer, warily eyeing up the outsider. But surprisingly, I found no such suspicion at my arrival. In fact, the elderly gentlemen waved me over. “Nice to see some fresh blood in these parts,” He slurred, raising the tumbler and sloshing amber liquid. A thin piece of metal slid out from his sleeve and clinked on the wooden bar. I handed it to him, unsure of its purpose. “Think you dropped this?” The old drunk blinked owlishly before clumsily snatching it from my grasp. “Much appreciated, I’m always losing this damn rake. Not that I need it… Everything is digital these days…” He mumbled as I nodded politely. Do you know those people who instantly feel a connection or kinship with someone after exchanging a few words? It wasn’t long before my new companion was regaling me with his life story as I patiently waited for the bartender to make her rounds. Listening with half an ear, I learned that Abe (the drunk) had served a few tours, been discharged, got married, divorced, and had been in and out of jail more times than I could keep track of. By the time I got my domestic dollar draft, I was already ready to leave. “Is Abe telling you about the good old days?” A slim bald stranger slid into the seat next to me. He was a tapestry of color, vibrant ink decorating nearly every inch of exposed flesh. I nodded, mouth full of mediocre beer. “You know, he might not look like much but he’s a living legend,” The skinhead grinned, revealing several gold teeth. “He can lift pretty much anything with those magic fingers.” Glancing at Abe again, I wondered how muscular this booze-hound must be. “That strong, eh?” Snorting, the old man wiped his whiskey-soaked mustache. “Strength be damned. It’s a matter of skill. Brains over brawn.” I nodded again, hiding my confusion with an air of false acumen. “Makes sense.” “So what’s your line of work?” The bald guy asked, raising a hand to catch the bartender’s eye. I groaned inwardly, hating the question. Being a janitor is one of the least sexy-sounding jobs out there. If I’m lucky, people immediately lose interest. If not, I end up being the victim of endless mockery. “I’m a.. uh…” My brain struggled to come up with a better euphemism for s***-scrubber. “… a cleaner.” I sighed weakly. This had the opposite effect I expected. His eyes widened, a glimmer of excitement. “Really? You didn’t look the type but the best ones rarely do…” I shrugged. “Wouldn’t exactly call me the best but thanks.” Baldy put a finger in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. “Oi! Eric! Get over here!” Abe leaned towards me with a newfound appreciation. “Not many cleaners come round here, you lot are an elusive bunch. Eric is a good lad. You’ll like him.” One of the suits wandered over from the pool table. “Look, Damien, if you’re asking for another drink, you’d better find someone else with deep pockets…” Damien shook his head and gestured to me. I sank a little lower in my seat, unused to all the sudden attention. “He’s a cleaner too, Eric! I thought you were the only one in these parts.” “Oh yeah? What’s your specialty?” Hearing the question directed towards me, I looked up over the rim of my plastic cup into a pair of icy green eyes. I fought the urge to shiver, feeling as though I was being vivisected beneath that emotionless stare. “Speciality?” I swallowed nervously. “You know, what’s your style? When you have a mark what do you do?” I frowned and thought about all the graffiti and sharpie stains I scrubbed off stalls that day. “Well, I don’t like to leave a single trace behind. It looks bad for my employer.” Eric nodded, a small smile creeping over his stoic expression. “Well of course. That’s the general consensus. What kind of tools do you use?” “Ahhh, the typical ones? Gloves, garbage bags, powerful chemicals.” “But that’s just for disposal. I mean more in terms of… removal.” I recalled scraping up gum from under school desks. “I find a razor blade to be pretty effective.” He raised his eyebrows. “Up close and personal, very impressive. Isn’t it a bit messy, though?” I laughed. “Not if you do it right. Besides, cleaning up messes comes with the job description.” Somehow, I was earning more and more respect from the small group around me. This was turning out to be an interesting evening. Who knew janitors held so much clout? When I called for a refill, Eric put a black card on the table. “It’s on me tonight. I insist.” He refused to take no for an answer. At least I wouldn’t be running up a huge tab with these cheap beers, I mused. But then he ordered a bottle of brandy and poured me a healthy glass. “Tell me, what was your most difficult assignment?” Sighing heavily, I racked my brain for a particularly memorable day. “I had a hard time at this courthouse. Most of the time I work late at night but they wanted me to take care of it while a trial was going on. It was an emergency you see…” This got a low whistle of admiration. “During a trial? Ballsy…” I grimaced. “If you want to call it that. Damn place was a nightmare.” The memory of crusty walls and urine-soaked floors made me shudder. “How did you handle it?” “Well, I managed to get everything finished right before they called a recess. I was in the bathroom when the judge walked in and that’s when the accident happened.” The irascible judge slipped on the freshly mopped tiles and fell with a roar. “You knocked over a judge?” Eric was giving me a slack-jawed stare. “It was easier than you think. Getting away was the tricky part. Normally people don’t pay much attention to me but everyone was on high alert after it happened. I was lucky enough to slip out through a side door, undetected.” That’s when I noticed that nearly everyone in the bar was listening to my story, rapt with attention. I took another swig of brandy and grinned. “If you think that was crazy, let me tell you about the time I was assigned to a police station…” |
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