A Freak User of Words

formspring.me

2012-01-24T16:01:00.001Z

Ask me questions about Movies & TV http://www.formspring.me/DaBill

Life

2011-11-20T10:47:00.001Z

Because sometimes life just feels horribly monotonous...

Same old issues
Same old fears
Same old worries
Same old tears
Same old enemies
Same old friends
The same old drama, that never ends.

UPDATE: Superman v. The Law of Torts (2010)

2011-04-06T13:43:00.002+01:00

I've just stumbled upon a rather awesome site called 'Law and the Multiverse' that naturally reminded me of the blog post I wrote last year.

Thought I'd share it here for those who were interested in my musings about the legal ramifications of being a superhero. (and also to prove I'm not the only geek to actually consider the topic!)

Out of the Dark

2011-03-26T08:18:00.001Z

Winter’s finally leaving,
I can see the sun again.
And I’m no longer feeling,
That the darkness will never end.

Events will soon be starting,
My life will soon commence.
It’s time to show who I am,
No more sitting on the fence.

I’ve got it all planned out,
And this time I’ll stay true.
I’m gonna turn my life about,
Give myself a full review.

Cause I can see the spring acoming,
When life restarts once more.
So long dreaming of changes,
And now I’m ready, now I’m sure.

It’s time to forget
All of my regrets.

Time to shout out loud.

Hey World look at me,
See who I can be.

When I’m standing proud.

Cause Winter’s finally left me
I’m standing in the sun again
It feels like I’ve been set free
When I see the darkness end.

Project Listless

2011-02-13T14:04:00.007Z

Update 26.3.11: I hadn't even finished my first list before I started writing again. So instead of carrying on with this project I'm going to concentrate on that. I may randomly put some lists up, but it's less likely as I now have this Tumblr account http://dabill.tumblr.com/ for those sort of posts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been so long since I’ve written anything new. But the fact is inspiration seems to have abandoned me lately. So I thought maybe if I force myself to write something – anything, then it might get me back in the right frame of mind.

So I’m going to start a little project. Nothing fancy, it’s kind of nerdy, but I have this weird love of lists, which I thought would be a good starting place to get my opinions flowing.

Yup, I’m turning into ‘that’ kind of blogger, hopefully briefly, but you never know, I could get really into it.

I do have a few rules for myself though.

1. Specific Themes – I don’t want to do the same themes that everyone has done before. No “Top 10 Favourite Films” or “Top 5 Bands” – the point of this is to try and kick-start my imagination and that’s not likely to happen if I just do what has been done 10 Billion times before.

2. Explanations – What’s the point in just writing out meaningless titles or names? If something is worthy of inclusion then there must be a reason behind it, so that reason has to be given.

3. Variety – Each list must have a different topic to the one preceding it. This means I can’t come up with 5 different ideas for Doctor Who based lists! Or rather, I can but they need to be spaced out, not bundled together.

Feel free to comment, argue, suggest themes or tell me if I’ve overlooked something that you feel should have been included. (Just be respectful about it – these are my opinions, I’m entitled to them and they are never ‘wrong’ because they are subjective, just as your views will never be ‘wrong’)

Right, time to get started then!

(BTW, I've entitled this 'Project Listless' because I'm currently feeling rather listless and hoping this will change that!)

Rambling About Writing

2010-09-16T22:10:00.003+01:00

One of the most frustrating parts of being a fan of fiction in all its forms, is the point at which you sit down and attempt to pen your own entry to the art form.

For as long as I can remember, stories and ideas have been constantly invading my thoughts. To the point that some nights I will have to abandon my bed over an hour after first attempting sleep, simply to scrawl down yet another storyline or stanza that will never see the light of day.

For some reason, reading someone else’s words, hearing tales of another writer’s struggles and successes, fills me with this unaccountable need to write something of my own.

Unfortunately, the second I begin to put pen to paper, or to be more accurate, boot up my computer and tap away at a keyboard, I seem to lose sight of all artistic temperament.

Almost as if the blank page is suddenly transformed to Everest.

Recently the frustration has increased due to changes in my social circle. In recent years I have inexplicably found myself surrounded by writers. People who, like me, have a burning need to get their stories out of their heads, and into some public forum or another.

While I adore these people, relish their friendships and the challenging, interesting conversation and inspiration they provide, I am also immensely jealous of them.

Very rarely do I look back and wish I could change things about my life, or myself. The fact is that I feel incredibly fortunate in my life and know that were I to have taken a different path, I may not be as lucky. But more and more lately I find myself wishing. Wishing, to my mind, is a fairly thankless task. Far better to work for the changes you long for.

And yet here I am, wishing almost constantly, for more. Greedy? Perhaps. Pointless? Almost certainly but there it is.

What do I wish for more of?

Time.
Patience.
Will power.
Confidence.

As it is, I still find myself prohibited by the belief that 27 years is proof enough that I am unable to change these things.

I’m not really writing this for encouragement. I know that the biggest obstacle in achieving any goal is oneself.

I guess I just wanted to take the opportunity to write an idea, a view of something I have and will continue to, experience.

Particularly as something as short as this blog post feels far more manageable than the 2 books I’ve been ‘working on’ for 4 years. Who know, In another 4 years, I may even make it to the 5th chapter on each of them!

End Ramble.

The Frustration of Suffering an Inconstant Muse

2010-09-16T21:44:00.000+01:00

The melody, a sweet refrain inspires me to try again. To caress the button, which leads to magic, contained in a moderate metal box.

The whirring as each element springs to life, within minutes I feel the nerves rise as a pristine glow appears before me. A few taps and clicks and it’s time to begin. But what will be the result of this whim?

The dream re-emerges, a longing rarely quelled. The safest route to let words flow. To let my creativity be compelled.

But a fear which never abandons its post, prevents the confidence required. As the blank page slowly fills, no true sense of completion shall ever be acquired.

Inspiration is a fickle friend, there until she’s needed. And attempts to mete out the initial burst fail miserably. Until the urge for abandonment is acceded.

Idolatry feels natural and a necessary fragment of artistic stimulation but disillusion and self-doubt rapidly rear a rigidity in prose until fear of failure overcomes and finally the page is closed.

Chillax

2010-08-18T17:22:00.001+01:00

Frustration inspires exceptional acts
but there's no guarantee they'll be good
It may make you down a whole bottle of Jack
but that certainly don't mean you should.

So when you start to feel that tension rising
You're not sure if you'll curb it in time
The best way that I've found to stick to the ground
Turn what's got you stressed into a rhyme.

Don't just shout
It about
Find some way to block out
All the thoughts that make you feel destructive.

And instead
Use your head
Try to channel that stress
Into something that's far more productive

'The Kiss' - A Freewrite

2010-08-16T10:00:00.009+01:00

Cue: Cello Concerto in E Minor by Elgar - this was originally a freewrite, but I played about with it a little.

A withered old man storms into his dark, cold bedsit, attempting to slam the door behind him with his weak frail arms. He hobbles over to the rickety chest of drawers, picks up a photo frame and stares. Slowly he lowers himself into the plain wooden chair next to him, never taking his eyes off of the photo in his hands. And he remembers.

The first time they met was in Georgia. A warm, balmy night at a mansion on the river. Owned by an obnoxious lawyer. He had arrived late and entered, nervously clutching his violin case and hurrying towards the rest of the orchestra. He was worrying over his solo. The final few bars had felt wrong in the last few rehearsals. Something was missing but he couldn’t place it.

He’d been in his seat all of a minute when he saw her. She was only 19 and the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. She was twirling around the ballroom with her skirts flowing as if in slow-motion. A sweet innocence graced her face and when she smiled, all of the lights in the room seemed to focus entirely on her. As the solo approached his eyes never left her.

While she was before him everything seemed perfect. He held his violin with such tenderness as he wished he could hold her. As he reached the final, troubling section, he felt no worries or fear.

While she was before him no note could land wrong, no phrase move too quickly. As the melody peaked, he fell.

He wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her in his arms and profess the love that had just overtaken him so violently. But he was a mere musician with nothing to offer this angel before him. He was no match for the tall, dark foreboding man with whom she was dancing. Covered in fine clothes and brimming with confidence, her partner was possibly the most intimidating man in the room. As he moved gracefully around the floor, the musician watched him. Hated him for everything he was and everything the musician was not.

The old man still felt the anger coursing through his veins, so strongly that it shook him from his trance. He rested one thin, wrinkled finger upon the picture, gave a sad smile and then dragged his failing body out of the seat and over to the kitchenette. After pouring himself a whisky he moved to the bed and sat on the hard mattress. As he supped his drink, he drifted back to that night. To the first time he heard her voice.

It was as soft and gentle as her manner. She had approached him during his break.

“You play beautifully.” She began. “I wish to thank you. For your music made my soul dance.”

He was not confident and had instantly frozen when that peaceful lilting tone first fell upon his ears. He managed to stutter a brief thank you and then stood dumbly, staring at the vision before him as if it were a dream.

“I adore music, I wish that I could hear it played all day long. That it could accompany me throughout my life. It is music that truly makes us feel, do you not think?”

She was still talking to him! The poor, nervous musician went to run his fingers through his thick brown hair, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood, when he remembered that his sister had spent what felt like hours trying to tidy it before his performance. Instead he scratched his neck and returned his shaking hand to his side, gripping his trousers as he tried to reply.

“I..I..I.. a.. agree. M..m..m..music.” He paused, trying desperately to order his thoughts before he spoke. “Music is life.” From the instant that the words left his mouth, he mentally cursed himself for speaking so openly to this goddess. Surely she could not truly care what he thought.

Instead of laughing at him and running back to her rich, cultured friends, as he expected, the woman stayed and her smile grew. “Yes.” She whispered. “It is everything.”

She glanced around the room, before grabbing his free hand and pulling him to the garden.

“Play for me!” She commanded, laughter on her face and joy in her voice at the excitement of hiding from her dull, judgemental, over-privileged friends.

The musician glanced around, making sure that they were far enough away, and that the ball was loud enough, that they would not be discovered. Not once did he consider refusing, for what warm-blooded man could deny this woman anything?

He had played for 20 minutes straight as she twirled and swayed through the trees, down the path, around the benches. By the time she stopped he was sweating from the effort. And then she ran to him, grabbed his violin and gently, carefully placed the instrument on the bench, before dragging the musician to the bench to join her.
He was becoming increasingly aware of how inappropriate this was. If any of the other guests were to see them, her reputation and his job would both be in danger. But as he opened his lips to speak his concerns, she shushed him with one delicate finger rested lightly on his mouth. Pushing her deep mahogany curls behind her, she leaned forward and replaced the finger with her lips.

As the old man remembered that kiss he abandoned his glass to the bedside table, lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, swept up in the perfect memory of the perfect woman. The perfect woman who was no longer his and would never be his, nor anyone’s, ever again.

In his memory the kiss deepened, his breathing faltered.

But unlike the first time, when he’d pulled away to tell her he loved her, now, in the memory, the musician would not let go. Not even for breath.

And as the old musician’s body shut down, and the music faded, the kiss continued, with him for eternity.

'Escape' - A Freewrite

2010-08-16T09:49:00.004+01:00

Cue: Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber

The ocean crashing and a girl looks out. She shivers and wraps a blanket around her, holding back the fear and the loneliness of the place where she has found herself.
No one had ever understood her.

Not really.

And after many attempts, eventually she just gave up and ran.

Most say run for the hills but that was too closed off. She ran for the ocean. Somewhere that was open and somewhat sad and empty, like her. The ocean reminded her of happier days. Days when she would laugh. When she would walk hand in hand with a boy who made her feel care free. But now he was gone. And the crashing of the waves against the rocks lulled her into a memory.

Dark and sorrowful.

The phone call from an older woman she'd never met who had told her, with cracking tones, that he was gone. It was over for her at that moment. She hadn't loved him. She had never loved anyone like that. But that day she accepted her fate.

Safe.

Here she was safe from heartache. From loss. Here she had the sea and she sat on the dark, wet sand and let it slowly wash over her, wrapping her in warmth. The coldness was only felt when the water moved away and left her shivering and crying in pityfulness for the state of her existence.

She screamed at the sea. Then as the water came back and washed over her again she felt the calming gentle feel of the waves. Soothing her. Reminding her that here nothing could touch her. That here she was able to scream, able to cry.

The ocean would never judge her. It would only fold her into it's rippling arms and soothe her. All that she could feel in the sea was peace. Not bliss, not happiness. But peace. Something she had longed for since childhood. She had found a sanctuary away from the cruelty of others.

She was good here.

Updates: Freewriting

2010-08-16T09:36:00.002+01:00

So I've been fairly sporadic with updating this blog, but it's not because I haven't been writing, just because I'm rubbish at remembering to actually put stuff up.

As I'm feeling totally crap today and have the day off work I've decided to try and remedy this situation by uploading a number of pieces I've written over the last few months, including some Freewrites.

Freewrites generally come from a number of challenges over at Allpoetry.com (Where I post as DaBill) But the Freewrites aren't saved in a way that allows others to read them from your account, so I'm thinking it's best if I put them up here as well.

The general idea of a Freewrite is pretty much as it sounds. You're given a topic or some kind of cue (could be a photo; a song; a poem etc.) and then you write whatever comes into your head. (Technically you're supposed to write as the words come, without editing - but when I post stuff I HAVE to edit a bit because I hate putting up posts with incorrect spelling or grammar - I know, I'm such a pedant!)

So anyway, that's just a quick explanation for the sudden flurry of posts I'll be putting up today.

Southbank

2010-08-16T07:44:00.001+01:00

Under the bridge the city swells

The smoky air filled with happy yells

High brow chat, an artistic song

But then reality hobbles along

I’m sorry, I can’t. Not as rich as I seem.

And liberal capitalism is simply a dream.

Superman v. The Law of Torts (2010)

2010-07-29T19:50:00.007+01:00

Okay, quick disclaimer.

1. I know very little about law. I didn’t know what a tort was until I reached
that chapter in my study text 5 days ago. So apologies for misuse of
terminology.
2. Despite enjoying my comics, I’m not big on DC and *GASP* I’ve never read a
Superman comic / book / graphic novel (whatever term floats your boat).
3. I do watch the ‘monstrosity’ that is Smallville. I even enjoy it.

Right, now that’s out of the way hello to you open-minded people who didn’t click the stumble button as soon as I mentioned ‘Smallville’.

So here’s the thing. I consider myself a slowly evolving geek. It started with film when I was 14. A year later I was introduced to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then, through these obsessions (along with my love of classic rock and metal) I met people that helped heighten my interest in Sci Fi, Horror, Comics and Gaming.

But tonight I managed to reach a new level of geekiness.

How? You may ask.

Through my law revision.

I know, I know. Legal principles are about as geeky as watching Sleepless in Seattle.

But whilst I spent 20 minutes staring at the page on Duty of Care, my brain went for a wander. It wandered all the way to Metropolis.

Despite the fact that my only exposure to Superman has been through:

a) A film I saw about 20 years ago
b) A cheesy tv show from the 1st time Teri Hatcher was considered sexy (before
she banged Bond and became anorexic); and
c) The aforementioned Smallville (which is almost universally agreed to be
unacceptable and definitely not canon)

I found myself considering a question so pointless, so random that I now feel very hypocritical for having, only a week ago, mocked the existence of this article:Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex by Larry Niven.

My query?

Could Superman be sued for negligence? And if so – what action (or non-action) could find him super-speeding round to a lawyer’s?

My study text basically says that a defendant with a particular skill or ability will be expected to exercise that skill in a competent manor.

This may have (and probably has) been covered already, but I’m not sifting through 72 years-worth of comics to find out (I’m not that bad... yet)

So I decided to scribble a couple of hypothetical’s and throw them out to the internet.

Say Superman comes across a building on fire. He blows out the fire, saving the occupants of the building. Yay! Day saved right?

But what about the man driving on the road behind the building at the specific moment Superman blew the fire out? The man who’s car got blown off the road and straight into a petrol/gas station or a brick wall or a shop window etc.

I'm betting you can make a fair bit of cash from suing a person who’s responsible for causing your car to be totalled, putting you in hospital, blowing up your business.

Or,

Say Superman is wandering down thestreet and he sees a woman a block away falling from a 15th story window.

Running a block and catching a person at the bottom of a 15 story fall is not something a 'reasonable man' could be expected to do. No regular guy in Superman's position would be considered in any way negligent for not attempting to save the woman.

But the Man of Steel could certainly manage it.

So would it be negligence if he didn't. If he just kept on walking? (I know, I know. Massively out of character, but this is a hypothetical situation and I'm betting there's been at least one story where Superman decided to quit helping people - there's certainly been enough Smallville eps where Clark Kent screwed up.)

Could the family of the dead woman sue Superman, hold him negligently liable for her death and demand damages?

Now as I said before. I really don’t know all the intricacies of the law, so there may be various defences to these claims.

Would his saving of the people in the burning building outweigh his Duty of Care to the car owner / petrol station owner? If he even has a Duty of Care there.

In the case of the falling woman, would he be held to the same standard as everyone else, or would he have an added layer of expectations due to his abilities? And who could decide just how much should be expected of a superhero? Is this the point that we get into the same territory as Marvel's 'Civil War' series, with various superheros working with the authorities and telling others what they are expected to do and how they should behave?

Is there yet another reason for Superman to keep his real identity a secret?

Because it’s pretty hard to serve a summons to a man who’s faster than a speeding bullet and has no fixed abode or specific place of work.

Returner Review

2010-07-23T23:13:00.004+01:00

Returner (2002) Dir. Takashi Yamazaki

I was recommended this film by a friend for the impressive use of CGI on a minimal budget. But what I found was that, while the CGI was pretty impressive for a low budget movie, (although this is based only on heresay as I can't find a reference to the budget online anywhere - if anyone can point me in the right direction it'd be much appreciated) it also had an enjoyable central storyline, which paid tribute to classic sci fi films such as Terminator, ET and the Matrix. The basic premise is that Milly has travelled back from 2084 to 2002 in order to kill the first Daggra (Tibetan for Enemy) to land on Earth. In doing so, she hopes to prevent the war with the Daggra race that has near enough wiped out the world in her time. She enlists an initially unwilling Miyamoto to help her find and destroy the alien.

Of course there are many complications, and Miyamoto's own storyline. He has spent years seeking out the man who kidnapped and killed his best friend, when they were sleeping rough years earlier. This man, Mizoguchi, is (rather conveniently for the story) also after the Daggra, as he wishes to gain the power of its technology (and take control of Japan - man aims high!)

As well as an ejoyable, yet simple story, Returner also provides some wonderful performances from the main cast.

For me the key performance was of Goro Kishitani, who played villain Mizoguchi. Exuding an air of casual indifference, mixed with a rage that resembled that of a spoilt child, Kishitani reminded me in some ways of the (admittedly far superior) performance of Gary Oldman's Stansfield in Leon. Mizoguchi is a perfect villain for this type of movie, as we aren't given any backstory, other than to support the fact that his main concern is power and he will sink to whatever depths required to gain it, no matter how depraved.

Takeshi Kaneshiro plays antihero Miyamoto well, although the characterisation is nothing extraordinary. He ticks all the boxes required of such a character, impoverished childhood; a tragic loss when he is young, caused by the villain; a life spent searching for vengeance; an older benefactor/employer who also plays the role of somewhat detached parental figure; a reliance on only himself; a distrust of everyone. This is nothing new, but the portrayal is good enough that it doesn't feel like you're being hit over the head with these cliches throughout!

Milly is the female protagonist, whose leap through a 'time shifter' (a portal) back 82 years to 2002 is what kicks off the story. Initially, I wondered why exactly Milly was sent. She appears to be nothing more than a scared young woman who has no real plan for saving the future, and rants like a madwoman at Miyamoto. The eventual reveal that she was not chosen, but merely the only one left gives her character more credibility and she does gradually come into her own, displaying a determinedness and courage that allows her to grow on you. By the end I really liked Milly and felt that her growth throughout the movie seemed natural enough.

The fight scenes were well shot, and the use of bullet time did not feel to me to be too excessive, some of which were explained away by a handy little piece of futuristic tech that would really help me out with getting to work in the mornings!

Another thing that really impressed me was the soundtrack. The score by Akihiko Matsumoto is beautifully understated, with a particular lilting, soft phrase running throughout. A sample of it is used in Roni Size's No More feat. Beverley Knight. This is not a song I would usually listen to as I'm not huge on Drum and Bass and R&B but I checked it out whilst writing this and it's not terrible.

The use of this soundtrack really highlighted the noir-ish elements of the films look.

All in all, I found Returner a really enjoyable way to spend a Friday night. It covered all the bases for me - good character interaction, an interesting storyline, familiarity with films I've enjoyed (without feeling like one long rip-off), some good gunplay, a few great fight scenes and your fair share of explosions. And all of this without the gaudiness that comes from Hollywood movies of the same ilk.

I'd definitely recommend this one, provided you like SciFi and aren't looking for something truly original.

(Though if you are? I'd give up now, as in my opinion, there are no truly original stories, only new takes on the same old thing.)

If you could only read one magazine for the rest of your life, which would it be?

2010-07-23T12:27:00.001+01:00

Empire - Greatest magazine ever! (in fact, it's pretty much the only magazine I read anyway, excepting DWM and Classic Rock very occasionally)

what is your favourite movie and why?

What's the kindest thing someone has ever done for you?

2010-07-23T12:10:00.001+01:00

I really couldn't remember. But yesterday my mum bought me a whole new bed spread set, went round my flat, made up my bed, did some of my washing, cleaned my kitchen and left me dinner in the fridge - just because she wasn't busy. Was very nice surprise!

what is your favourite movie and why?

So She Dances

2010-05-25T20:20:00.001+01:00

It feels like endless repetition.
Groundhog Day without as many laughs. As Clarissa slowly circles the room filled with sweaty, drunk, lonely people, she is hit by a sense of déjà vu.
It makes sense of course. She has been here many times before. Heard the same songs, drunk the same drinks, met the same kinda guys.
The decor, bouncers and bar staff change, but the experience is always the same.

Sometimes she wonders why she bothers to come. To spend hours getting ready and then pay extortionate prices for watered down drinks. To deal with the inevitable drama that the evening will end in.

Then she feels it. That pounding beat. Her reason. The rhythm filters through her body, her heart speeds up. The melody rises lifting her and she knows exactly why she comes here. She comes for that escape. The feeling of freedom that the music and movement brings.

And so she dances.

Sage Advice

2009-12-05T10:16:00.002Z

'You can't control the traffic'
That's what my mum would say
I have to think about that
At 6 pm each day.

'You cannot change the weather'
My mum's advice would be
When I forget my jumper
And the rain lets loose on me

'Some people are just cruel'
My mother will assert
That is what I've told myself
Each time that I've been hurt

'Can't always have your way'
Mum taught me in my youth
And the older that I get
The more I'm given proof

'Be pleased with what you have'
I can't forget that one
'Cause what I'm truly thankful for?
My wise, all-knowing mum!

A limerick, because I was bored.

2009-10-29T13:27:00.002Z

There once was a man called Nick,
Who really was such a great prick,
He didn't like others,
Who were diff'rent colours,
So now we've renamed him Dick.

Post-Torchwood Review and the problems with the Internet.

2009-07-12T22:53:00.004+01:00

THIS BLOG WILL CONTAIN MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TORCHWOOD: CHILDREN OF EARTH. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT AND DON'T WANT TO RUIN THE EXPERIENCE DO NOT CONTINUE READING. GO AND WATCH IT NOW. IT'S ON BBC IPLAYER. (IF YOU'RE IN THE STATES OR ANOTHER COUNTRY THAT CAN'T ACCESS IPLAYER PLEASE IGNORE THIS BLOG AND WAIT TILL YOU'VE WATCHED THE SHOW.)

Okay, still taking a break from the poems for a mo. Just wanted to get this out while I'm feeling it.

I last posted on Thursday after a very emotional response to the 4th episode of Torchwood. I was actually concerned that after such a deeply affecting episode the final episode wouldn't live up to it. So I took a break, spent the weekend with friends and avoided Torchwood and Twitter (being very aware that it seems to have become a haven for spoiler-mongers!)

I have just watched the final episode on I-player and stand by my previous views.

This was possibly the most brilliant piece of television that I have seen in years.

The basic concept underlying the series - the world's children in danger - was truly inspired. When you watch a tv show that is meant to be tense, dramatic and shocking, the natural instict is usually to endanger the main characters. To provide the audience with a person or persons that they can get to know, connect with and then place that character in danger.

Torchwood have managed to hit on a far deeper concern that can be shared by any audience member, young or old, seasoned fan or first time viewer. Our children are without a doubt the most important thing in this world (and I'm speaking as a single woman with no children and no immediate plans for any!)

Following the huge twists and turns witnessed in the initial 4 episodes, the finale kept me on the edge of my seat, completely absorbed and truly scared. I have long been a fan of Joss Whedon's because of the fact that you cannot always expect a happy ending. Torchwood managed this brilliantly. I honestly thought there was no hope. That millions of children would be taken to a fate far worse than death. And I can't remember a time when I have been so scared and hurt for something that I knew was fictional.

The actors gave some amazing performances. I would particularly like to mention Peter Capaldi - I cannot believe that I'm even writing this but I completely felt for Frobisher and his final decision to kill his family rather than let them suffer what seemed completely inescapable. I actually thought to myself that were I in his position I would do exactly the same thing. For something as simple as a television show, a piece of 'entertainment', to make you think about such horrific dilemmas and to make you discover a part of yourself that you've never considered - that is such a powerful thing.

The direction of Euros Lyn was brilliant. Keeping such an exceptional level of tension throughout that my neck muscles are actually aching from being tensed for the last hour!

But mostly I would like to talk about the writers.

Russell T. Davies, John Fay and James Moran.

I have had mixed opinions of Russell T. Davies' abilities as a writer for some time now. I thought Queer as Folk and Casanova were excellent stories, controversial, modern, challenging and exciting. Then I watched Bob and Rose and was extremely disappointed. My views of Doctor Who are mixed. Some stories strike me as unusual, exciting and most importantly, they question and explore the basic concepts of time and space that are the core of Doctor Who (for me at least). Other storylines have seemed self-serving, shallow and in some cases clear examples of 'phoning it in'.

With Torchwood: Children of Earth (Hereon CoE) I can find no fault. This was a brave, challanging story that pushed all boundaries, broke many rules and ultimately, kept me glued to my seat, loving and hating the visceral experience I was receiving.

I would also like to specifically address James Moran's involvement from the more public forum.

All of the writer's did a superb job, however James Moran is, to my knowledge, the only one of the three who is widely accessible with an incredibly open online presence. I have been following him on 'Twitter' for several months now and have found his posts and his blog - found here: http://jamesmoran.blogspot.com/ to be amusing, engaging and interesting. He is very vocal on the day to day life of a working writer, providing insight into the processes many of us take for granted.

As the most accessible member of the writing team, naturally many fans who have been majorly affected by this brilliant show turned to James to comment on their feelings following the airing of each episode.

I am very thankful that technology has advanced to a point where we are able to communicate with people whom we admire. But in the wake of CoE I have been greatly saddened by the realisation that not everyone is as appreciative of the privilage that this communication is.

While there was, in James' own words "over a thousand messages from viewers talking about the show. The vast majority have been extremely positive." there was also a number of extremely negative, abusive, personal messages sent to him.

One of the reasons that I left the online Harry Potter fandom several years ago was the number of immature comments that would be put forth in discussions. Many of these messages were (as far as I could tell) posted by younger fans, in their early teens. I excused this behaviour as a sign of immaturity and inexperience, convincing myself that they would grow out of it.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I read some of the more negative messages on Twitter and discovered that they were written by people my age and older! (I'm in my mid-twenties.

While I doubt any of these type of people would read my blog. I would like to say this anyway, just to get it off my chest.

Grow up.

If you are incapable of seperating reality from fiction, then you should stick to watching shows like Big Brother. They were designed for people who feel it is acceptable to abuse others for no reason other than that you dislike their opinion on something.

Grown men and women should not harass and insult people like James Moran, who open a window into their lives, views and experiences. This is exactly the sort of behaviour that gives people a negative view of the internet. And worse, it is the kind of behaviour that gives people a negative view of fans.

Science Fiction has often been held up by the media as a sanctuary for geeks, freaks and wierdos. Those of us who are sci-fi fans are well aware that this is complete rubbish. Attacking writers does not do the fandom any favours. We are not nutters. We are not incapable of understanding that what is happening in that little box in the front room is NOT REAL. I have found that any writers I speak with are happy to argue points and trade views. But it has to be relevant.

To be honest, I could continue to rant about this for a while, but I'm tired and frankly, I think that James Moran has said what I'm trying to say in a much better way (which is why he gets paid to write and I crunch numbers all day!)

Please read James' Blog http://jamesmoran.blogspot.com/ and this goes out to everyone - when you post to people online - not just celebrities, everyone online. Think how you would feel if you received that post yourself. Remeber that just because it looks like you're communicating with a bunch of words, behind those words is a real person, with real feelings.

Anyway, on that note, I'm off to bed. Hopefully to a nice dreamless sleep for once!

Torchwood: Children of Earth - A review of my Torchwood experience

2009-07-09T23:16:00.006+01:00

Slight change of format tonight. No poems, and not a typical review. More just me ranting about Torchwood: Children of Earth and my feelings towards what has surprisingly become my television highlight of the year.

Here's the basic background with my Torchwood experience.

About 2 years ago My boyfriend of the time introduced me to Doctor Who. Other than a vague memory of some sci-fi show I saw as a kid, I wasn't too interested in Doctor Who - it was starring Billie - of 'Because We Want To' fame which was plenty excuse for me to avoid it.

But I gave it a chance (for the boyfriend's sake) and found that beyond all expectations Doctor Who was an involving, fast-paced, funny, witty, intelligent programme. So much so that I became obsessed to a level only previously given to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Then came Torchwood.

It was starring Captin Jack - one of my favourite guest stars from the Whoniverse so I had high hopes. These hopes were pretty quickly dashed upon watching the first season of Torchwood. The stories were predictable, the acting average and the dialogue laughably unrealistic. Frankly, it struck me as the closest you could come to an American version of Doctor Who without involving any Americans!

But, my interest was warily maintained when I heard that James Marsters (aka the sexiest vampire to grace tv screens) was coming onboard for the opening episode of season 2. I'm a massive Buffy obsessive so I decided to give Torchwood one more chance.

The opening episode seemed different to what I'd witnessed in Season 1. It was still a little cheesy, but a little less predictable and they finally seemed to have worked out that 'dark' does not equal 'everyone shagging everyone else'

So I continued to watch. The first 5 episodes of season 2 seemed to get better and better. Finally we had some truly interesting ideas, some wonderful storylines (My favourites being To the Last Man and Adam) and some excellent guest stars (particularly Nikki Amuka-Bird in Sleeper. It was the episode Adam that also highlighted for me the hidden gem within Torchwood's regular cast - Gareth David-Lloyd 'Ianto'. Season 2 and 'Adam' in particular transformed Ianto from a very two-dimensional office boy to a character that was capable of wit, compassion, emotional depth and a sharp mind. Some of the episodes did not impress. The introduction of Martha Jones felt contrived and seemed a weak attempt at maintaining a character who was not particularly liked in Doctor Who. Also, I considered Owen Harper to be possibly the most irritating character I've ever had the misfortune to watch, so a 3 episode story-arc in the middle of the season which heavily featured Jones and Harper nearly put me off again. Fortunately the series redeemed itself with 3 excellent episodes in the last half of the season - 'From Out of the Rain', 'Fragments' and 'Exit Wounds'

So finally we come to season 3.

I was initially frustrated at the prospect of a mere 5 episodes, to be aired over the course of 1 week. Surely in a year where we have no full season of Doctor Who, and the specials went from being spread out throughout the year (as the initial rumours implied) to one in April and the rest at the end of the year, we should at least be allowed a full season of Torchwood?

Besides which, how could we possibly have 5 decent quality episodes if the BBC felt the show was not deserving of a full run. It didn't seem to be an exhibition of much confidence in the showrunner's abilities.

Well we are now 4 episodes in out of the 5 and I am chowing down on a rather large slice of humble pie.

I. Was. Wrong.

Not only have we been presented with the best Torchwood episodes yet, but the format works really well. It was advertised as an 'event' and it really is.

I have each night sat next to my telly counting down the minutes until the next episode airs, and at the end of each part I have found myself worked up to such a state that I find myself staying up well past my bedtime to wax lyrical about the brilliance of what I have just watched.

From this point on be spoilers

If you don't want to know about major cast changes post season 2 stop here.

Okay, here come the spoilers - no more warnings!

Having culled the two weaker members of the team at the end of season 2 (the endlessly annoying, arrogant Owen and interminably boring Tosh), we are left with a far more serious Torchwood. Rhys has found his role increased, which is wonderful because Kai Owen truly provides us with an everyman that grounds the rest of the team (and his flat out refusal to be considered part of Torchwood is wonderful, as I was briefly concerned at the beginning of the week that they were up for hiring any old joe from off the street!)

Each episode has surpassed the previous one to the point that I am now compelled to write this blog praising a show that this time last year I didn't think I'd bother watching again!

My only worry now is that Russel T Davies seems to have become rather trigger happy with his team. I have just witnessed the death of my favourite character - Ianto. I know that in the whoniverse death is rarely final, and I still keep some hope that tomorrow a miracle will occur. But a big part of me feels that what I consider to have been a huge mistake on RTD's part is indeed the end for this wonderful character.

Reducing the team to only Jack and Gwen is a bold, but dangerous move. I can't decide yet if this will affect my decision to watch the next series (which I expect is pretty much a definite if the Beeb pay any attention to their ratings!) I will say this though, Torchwood's third season has kept my on the edge of my seat all week and regardless of my feelings towards character deaths, all involved have managed to surpass all expectations and provided a piece of television that is truly original, tense, surprising, thought-provoking and just damn good fun.

Now I'm off to bed to dream of aliens, corrupt politicians and a very charming welshman!

Relaxed and Refreshed. New poem - 'Recovery'

2009-07-08T20:21:00.002+01:00

Aaah, that's better!

Just got back from a 5 day short break in deepest Wales. Was absolutely beautiful scenery, peaceful little villages and towns and some surprisingly good food!

Realised that with all the emotional upheaval of recent months I really needed to get away. I even wrote a little something while I was there which probably best sums up how I'm feeling. It doesn't quite feel complete, but I like that, because although I feel a lot better, I know that my 'emotional journey' (yes, that's a terribly emo phrase but I think it's pretty approporiate!) is not quite complete either.

So here is 'Recovery'

It's amazing, the difference,
You get from some distance.
How you start to see,
Life the way it should be.
Who knew a short break,
Is all it would take.
Get away for a while,
Rediscover that smile.
Some fresh air, rain or shine,
Change of place will do fine.

The end... for the moment!

Rocky Shores

2009-07-02T08:44:00.002+01:00

Same old words,
Meaningless.
Attempting connection.
Every man an Island.
Every woman lost at sea.
Hunger and thirst steer us.
Some winds blow, guide gently.
Others storm, the boats crash.
None survive.

Interstate 60 review

2009-06-28T12:55:00.001+01:00

There is something about finding a random movie that I've never heard of before, watching it and realising that it's not just a good film, but I actually feel so priviliged to have seen it, because now I want everyone else I know to see it!

The best way to find these random movies? Always go by actor or director. I have a list of actors that I think will generally do original, unusual films that are more likely to be one of these unknown gems. Yesterday was a Gary Oldman effort (a good sign to begin with as he is my absolute favourite of all the actors in my list).

The film was Interstate 60. The setup was possibly one of the least original out there. James Marsden is Neal. a young man trying to work out what he wants to do with his life. Deep down he wants to be an Artist but finding himself constantly rejected from Art schools around the country because he's "the wrong sex, the wrong colour and his family have too much money". His forceful father has decided that Neal is going to become a lawyer. At his birthday dinner a discussion occurs as to what Neal's birthday wish was. A waiter at the restaurant convinces Neal to tell his wish. Neal wishes for 'an answer'.

Moments later Neal is knocked out and wakes up in a hospital. Here's where the story takes a turn to the fantastical and where it really begins to set itself apart. Neal finds himself seeing billboard signs that aren't there. These signs lead Neal to a mysterious man, with a rather suspicious delivery job. Neal takes the job and begins a cross-country road trip down the unmapped, unknown Insterstate 60. A cavalcade of strange and unusual characters appear on this journey, beginning with the exceptionally odd O.W. Grant - the 'waiter' from the restaurant. Grant informs Neal that this road trip is his wish come true. Throughout his Journey Neal comes across a town where raves and addictive drugs are legal, a town filled with nothing but Lawyers, the Museum of Art Fraud and a variety of other strange places and people.

The script is witty and Neal comes across as a guy who, despite seeming filled with indecision, is actually very clear on his views and who has a moral code that in this day and age seems almost as exceptional as the magical Interstate. Oldman manages to give Grant a whimsical charm, mixed with an underlying sense of danger and the supporting cast all exhibit extreme, odd characters in such a way that you actually recognise many facets of humanity found in everyday life. Chris Cooper in particular stands apart. A former ad exec with strict views on telling the truth and a disturbing way of ensuring compliance from those who don't share in those views.

This film was great fun to watch, hugely involving and inspiring in that it's ultimate message seems to be less about attaining dreams and more about the experiences you get from following them. The ability of the Interstate to experience multiple times and events that occur, don't occur, will occur and could have occured leads to a third act twist that really backs up the idea that any decision can have unexpected consequences. It is, naturally, this twist that really forces Neal to reevaluate his life and make 'the right choice'.

Some films shove morals down your throught, some avoid messages and rely solely on spectacle or quirky ideas. Interstate 60 manages to be both inspiring, amusing, exciting and thought-provoking, whilst appearing to be little more than a few quirky ideas thrown into a road trip movie.

This was a perfect film to help me cope with that morning after feeling as it didn't have a confusing storyline, but it did keep me guessing and the intelligent humour definitely cheered up my day!

Going where many have gone before...

2009-06-23T14:15:00.000+01:00

Great weekend. More specifically, great trip to cinema. So great that I thought I would right a little review.

I saw Star Trek on Sunday evening and I've gotta say... I may have been swayed a little. Alright, a lot.

Firstly, for a film to get me interested, having an explosion in the first 5 minutes really doesn't hurt!

What really surprised me by Trek was that along with suddenly being thrust into a massive space battle, you're also very quickly thrust into a highly emotional moment. I expected a few things from Star Trek, but tearing up during the opening sequence was not one of them.

Abrams is clearly a man who knows his action sequences, as if we couldn't tell from the excellent Alias and Cloverfield. That is why, whether you are a Trek fan or not, this should keep any sci-fi / action movies fan happy. There is little in the way of dragging, expositional scenes. instead, when the action drops, drama rises and tension flows from the screen almost continuosly (apart from the occasional comic relief, provided, unsurprisingly, by Simon Pegg and also through the rather engaging relationship between Kirk and Bones. Their close, gently mocking friendship plays beautifully and provides a sense of fun that would be desperately needed were we to be left with only the antagonistic relationships between Spock/Kirk and Uhura/Kirk.

The one draw back was that with such a varied, large cast of key characters, combined with a surprisingly complex storyline, a few people did get left behind, with only a handful of scenes between them.

Sulu (John Cho) and Chekov (Anton Yelchin) suffered mostly from this, as did Scotty (Simon Pegg).

However, everyone had their moment (I had a Star Trek fan on hand to explain the sly nods to the original series / actors) and all the lines that even I know were included.

Pine gave a solid performance as Kirk, but to my mind this film really belongs to Zachary Quinto as Spock.

While Kirk ticks every box in the 'How-to-construct-a-hero' list (Dead parent, rebellious attitude, ladies man etc.) Spock is a character that simply demands your attention. Quinto manages to imbue Spock with an underlying sense of fear and uncertainty that are in direct confliction with the outer quiet confidence he allows his shipmates to see. Combined with the rarely referenced relationship that he has with Zoe Saldana's Uhura Spock is a constant mystery. He manages to switch from calm, practical and closed-off, to a complete explosion of fury and pain in nanoseconds during one key confrontation with Kirk halfway through.

All in all, I am very much hoping for another film with these actors and Abrams back in the Director's saddle. Who knows, I may even go back and watch the original series. I'm told they're rather good...

Just Another Cliche

2009-05-17T11:25:00.000+01:00

You sit me down and give me a look
But you’re no longer an open book
I can’t take it in
My brain shuts down
It’s all a blur as I look around.
You didn’t mean it
I misunderstood
This can’t be real
Don’t know how you could.
Can’t sleep,
Can’t eat,
Can’t breath,
Can’t think
Can’t see beyond,
My next drink.
I’m dying, but nowhere near quickly enough.
I’m trying, but I forgot how to be tough.

(A/N Guess how things are going with the 'wonderful boyfriend' I recently mentioned!)

Just the Good Stuff

2009-04-20T20:48:00.000+01:00

You’re all I want
You’re all I need
Don’t make me cry
Don’t make me bleed

When life gets tough
You’re on my side
Don’t feel I have
To run and hide

You’ve been my friend
For all these years
You make me laugh
You ease my fears

You hold me close
And stroke my hair
Give me that look
That shows you care

You’re all it takes
To keep me calm
You’ll never let
Me come to harm

And when they ask
“Why choose that Guy?”
Don’t need to think
To answer why

Life’s real good when
He’s by my side
His smile makes me
Feel so alive.

He’s all I want
He’s all I need
Don’t make me cry
Don’t make me bleed

Public Service Announcement #2 Excuses, Excuses

2009-04-20T20:20:00.000+01:00

The last few weeks have been filled with drama for me. So I haven't had time to post but I have done lots of writing.

I've been to New York (which had some very cool parts, but frankly, reminded me a lot of London!)

I've been to a wedding (and if a wedding doesn't inspire even some poetic thoughts / feelings then you are officially dead inside), thus forcing me to sit in a church for over an hour - something that always gets me riled up and gets the contemplation running at 11.

It was my birthday (and I'm the wrong side of 25 to tell you how old.) My birthday was heaven because my wonderful boyfriend indulged me in a terribly romantic day out (Picnic by water, sparkly presents, good wine - you get the gist.)

So all in all, I've been very busy hence the rather lengthy break in posting.

Plus I'm crap at sticking to anything resembling a timetable!

Anyway,

That's my blathering done. Don't think anyone's reading this anyway, so no harm no foul! I just like to amuse myself.

On with the dodgy poetry...

Eng. Lang. RIP

2009-02-21T13:47:00.000Z

I just can’t face Facebook
I’m all Twittered out
I’m scared of forgetting
What speech is about.

All those people that chat
With me in Myspace
Are people that haven’t
Even seen my place

I don’t feel too social
Sat here all alone
But I still don’t speak
When using my phone

With letters disappearing
To help type with speed
Soon zero’s and ones will
Be all that we’ll need

So I’ll say goodbye in
The best way I know
C U l8r Eng. X
Sry u hv 2 go :-(

High-Flyer

2009-02-14T16:15:00.000Z

High as a kite

When I’m bathed in your light

And I don’t wanna fight

But I fear that I might

Hold you back

Pull you down

Keep you stuck on the ground

You’re my night sky

My star

You know just

Who you are

But I’m earthbound

So far

Pulling back to the yard

Now I’m yours

Which is fine

But you’ll never be mine

You are that Mac

Song. Jumpin Jack

On speed and back

Here it’s just me.

Baked, but not freed.

Can’t Find The Exit

2009-01-21T20:47:00.000Z

Turned around
Upside down
Inside out
It’s all about
Finding some peace
Finding at least
Some kind of love
(Not from above)
Something to stop
This mental block
Run that way and this
Still manage to miss
I dream that I’m flying
But no points for trying
To get what you need
You’ve got to succeed
Can’t cope with the pressure
It’s too much to measure
Need a Jack and a beer
Need to get out of here
I’m tired and so alone
But can’t find the way home

The Happy Poet

2009-01-20T21:44:00.000Z

A great artist must suffer, they say.
I’m afraid that’s just not me.
All the problems that I face in life,
Are often solved too easily.

I’m not in the least bit oppressed, or
Dying or gay or extreme.
The only adventures that I have,
Are the ones that I have when I dream.

I tried emo, that didn’t suit me,
The angst was too much hard work.
Plus I know I ain’t no great poet,
Cause I can’t always find rhymes that work.

I’m far to happy to aspire to Plath,
Dickinson's simply too mild.
Can’t seem to go quite as dark as Poe
Not sarcastic enough to be Wilde.

So now it’s abundantly clear to me
I could be a great artist, except
I’m far too content, far too happy,
That’s something I have to accept.

Public Service Announcement #01 - A Brief Disclaimer

2009-01-20T21:25:00.000Z

May as well be honest, this is little more than a plea for attention.

I write - it's mostly self-indulgent but occasionally I write something that I'm actually quite pleased with.

As it would be pretty cruel of me to force my nearest and dearest to read my scribblings and feign admiration, instead, I'll let the internet be my judge, jury and executioners.

It's pretty basic:

If you like it, say so.

If you don't - and are capable of constructive criticism - please feel free to give your honest opinion.

Flames will be used to heat my flat, as I can't afford coal right now.