Chain flic 11?

Sitting there with a kid on his lap and a flute in his mouth, blowing the tune that all the kids are finding so enticing. I'd been outraged by the way, when the old man made pedophilia legal. It was all my fault of course, as everything always was in this fucked up little world. My father thought that it would stifle Neo's sexual interest in me if he was allowed to play with the other kids. It didn't of course, nothing could. But after the third time i stopped telling daddy, as the solutions he was coming up with became more extreme, and Pedophiles and rapists and dickheads were all allowed to run free. It was around about then that i first created my world of escape, and a little town i called London, and Gareth and Wil and Matt and Reda and Lucy and Luke. And i made them all write stories about me.

Traffic

A number of you guys have introduced writing exercises in your blogs, with varying degrees of success. I was listening to The Stereophonics earlier on today and during Traffic (Track 5 on word gets around) i realised that the boys had written what could easily become a writing exercise. Listen to the song and the lyrics describe Kelly's opinions on a stranger he drives past but only sees for a second. Do the same.
But of course, this is very similar to what others have tried to implement on their blogs, so the spin is it needs to be written in lyric format, with the same pentameter scheme used in the song. i know that this is weird because it is more interesting for a poetry student but, who cares. Good luck.


And listen to Dogs- Turn against this land.

The number 23

Also, while I'm posting, has anyone seen the recent Jim Carrey film The Number 23. If not, it basically tells the story of a guy(played by Carrey) who is obsessed with the number 23(as the title would suggest) after reading a book about it. And while the film itself peters out towards the end, as inevitable conclusions need to be made, Jim Carrey is on fine form as the obsessed dog catcher, and shows that he can actually act. (I should really point out that i hate slapstick, and slapsticky stuff, so films such as Liar Liar, The Mask and Ace Ventura are incredibly bad in my opinion. However, when he is actually acting and not prancing around like a twat he can be excellent- The Truman Show, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.)
Anyway, the point of this post is that the film struck up a bit of paranoia in myself, for example, my house number in wales is 23, The number 23 comes up in my phone number, and perhaps most strangely i watched the film late last night, just because i was bored in my house, and it was late enough to technically be today when i watched it.
The 11th of December.
11,12.
11 +12 =

Watch it, and the same will happen to you....

P.S Listen to a band called Dogs.

It's happened, and i am not ashamed of it.

So, after exhausting the supply of Martin Amis novels, (M.A's the king) i found myself with a spare hour in the library with nothing to pick up off the coveted M.A shelf apart from a book of essays, which i unbelievably picked up and skimmed through. You know when we spend four days writing an essay, (Which I'm sure many of us will be doing over crimbo) and think it's something pretty fucking special?
Yeah, well it's not, this guy can not only write great short stories and novels, but he can write unbelievably good essays too, which sucks for me and you, but, credit where it's due. Kudos.

Also this week i branched into the world of the elderly Amis, reading one of Martin's father Kingsley Amis's novels Lucky Jim. And i must tell you, it's really good as well. i started reading it yesterday afternoon in order to put off starting one of the three essays i have to write, and by two o'clock today i was finished, and i thoroughly enjoyed it, and will start on another one of his novels in the next couple of weeks. Which raises the question, Who's better? Anyone who's read a book by either of them feel free to vouch an opinion.


Also, listen to a band called Dogs.

Ben Markovits and the jazz

right, i haven't really done any work promoting the markovits project so the last couple of days i have got off my arse and done a couple of things. Firstly i made a bit of a speech about it my hemingway seminar, which seemed to go really well, and i think a couple of people showed some good interest. Secondly, i've sent a message request to message of the day about it which should be up in the next day or two. Also if anyone wants me to do any of the errandy stuff like handing leaflets out then i look really friendly with my new haircut so i'll do it.

p.s i've got a few action doll ideas in the planning but i don't know whether i've got enough production time so...

London's calling

Free literary magazine for London
"December will see the launch of a London-based "creative writing tabloid", to be distributed for free to commuters and edited by two recent university graduates, Tristan Summerscale and Christopher Vernon. Notes from the Underground, a sixteen-page tabloid-format publication, will contain "a broad variety of high quality content, ranging from short stories to cartoons and stimulating non-fiction, from both up-and-coming young writers and more high-profile published authors". The pair received hundreds of submissions, and at least three household names are in talks to contribute short stories free of charge to the debut issue, out on 17 December. Thereafter the publication will be bi-weekly, with a print run of 100,000 copies printed on 100% recyclable paper that will be distributed for free at over 30 commuter locations"

This is something that i stumbled upon whilst searching for literary magaziness online and i think that it's great news, imagine appearing in a magazine that will be thrust into the arms of commuters in one of the busiest cities in the world. However, does anyone really think that anyone will take the time to read any of the magazine at the end of a busy day. I mean if most people can't be arsed to read the London lite after a hard days work then is something a little more intellectually challenging really what they want. Does anyone have any thoughts on the matter?

You lot should be ashamed of yourself.

so the last time i was in we were set the task of thinking of a way to promote a book or to increase the sales of a book. i decided to perform a little experiment to support my idea, and insulted Luke on my blog. Now, i thought that the creative writing class would all rally behind our innocent victim and call me a wanker in repost. this was not really the case though, as, apart from an anon and to some extent Tom, no-one really stepped in to target me.
Anyway, i digress, the point is that in order to sell books or promote discussion and publicity it sometimes helps to be CONTROVERSIAL. look at some of the biggest books we know, 1984, Lolita, A Clockwork Orange; even the sodding Da-Vinci code relied on it's controversy for its publicity. Besides, you should have all known that nice ol' me couldn't be horrible even if i wanted to be. I'm just too much of a kind soul with big ideas.

P.S thanks for being an unknowing guinea pig Luke.

Shwmae.

chain flic, 8 i thinks

The previous link is http://oxygenchameleon.wordpress.com/2007/11/10/chainfic-link-7/
The first link is http://matt-boothman.livejournal.com/8136.html#cutid2
The next link has a lot to live up to.
sirens


I'd always hated Neo's damn flute, but right now i think that it is the only think that is keeping me insane, which is what i want to be. The loopy ups and downs of the one awful song that he has ever learnt to play plague my mind, and i contemplate rolling sideways into the bog, to be forever engulfed with my beloved. But then what if The Book is wrong, what if this is it? Suicide is always riskier when the belief in an afterlife is tested, and i don't quite know what to believe any more. If there is a God then surely Jack's fall could have been avoided.
I was left lying breathlessly on my back with countless wonderings about my faith, the same ringing song from far away in my ears, the stench of the bog, and the question of why Neo didn't save Jack when he fell. I stood up and snatched the wondrous red flute from Neo's hands and tossed into the bog; after all, with a head like this, how can i bear to listen to Your misses is a nutter for the rest of the day.
Then the fox....

Luke said, You should have seen Wil last week Gareth, he was inconsolable! You make a big difference to the class.

As for being single, try not to feel like the odd one out. We have all been single one time or another, and, unless you find the right person, being single is actually pretty awesome.

You only have to worry about yourself, you can do what you like, you can focus on your study and you can channel all your angst into a fantastic piece of fiction!

SO then i said, Thanks for being really patronizing Luke, i wasn't saying i don't want to be single i was just saying a night out is shit without a couple of lads out who can get pissed with you without wondering what the wife will say. On a connected note, if anyone does know any single ladies....

And one of my house mates said that i was a loser... but Luke was a wanker.

A review

Now when we did the seminar on reviewing i saw a chance to do something very, very clever; i am going to review Yellow Dog by my boy Martin Amis.

Now i am a big Martin Amis fan, i have read all of his books apart from the newest one because i haven't got around to it and his autobiography cause that shit always bores me. Yellow dog may in fact be far from his best, and may be widely accredited as his worst novel, (though i think that it's a damn side better than night train) however, it is bottom of quite a formidable list, and had it been written by another writer it would not be so readily criticized. Okay, so there are parts which lack the usual Amis flair, and for one of the only times there is no stand out scene or character in the book. ANother of the criticisms of this book is that we don't get to sympathize with the change of Xan's character because we don't see enough of him pre-attack. however, there are some really nice moments in this novel, particularly towards the end, when the character of Joseph andrews is introduced.
A brief review there, but to summarize simply, don't go out and buy it if ur not a fan, and if u haven't read any AMis then you should start with Money or Time's arrow. Another book which deserves mention is Dead babies, another great book. If you haven't read any Amis then you really should.

catch up

I just got back from Wales. That's not a story, it's just a boring pointless fact. So, i've now missed 2 of the last 3 seminars and was hungover in the other way. Apologies, apologies, glances and messed up chances. I'm now going to go on a blogging rampage, starting with the news that my story has in fact been accepted for the Jam, so if you see a copy lying around, pick it up and show it to all the publishing houses and agents you know.

Default deductions.

It has been a couple of weeks since i last posted here so i thought i'd give you guys an update.
The more astute of you will have noticed that i didn't make it to the seminar last week, apologies, i know you all love my presence. our boiler had packed up so i couldn't have a shower and it was fucking freezing and my alarm didn't work cos it was on my phone and that kind of shit.
Life is not looking good in the ten larchwood house right now, as it seems that i could be the only single man left. Many of you will know Jordan and James who do the course, and be as shocked as i am that they have snared women, the elusive tim has been dating for over a year and crazylegs is chasing skirt all over the place. Which leaves me. And i don't know if you've ever gone out with a group of guys who have girlfriends. But it fucking sucks!!!
Maybe i'll be in a better mood tomorrow.

Default deductions.

It means nothing

Starting tomorrow I'm going to write 600 words a day of my first novel. Why 600 words?
Because I'd promised 1000 and it's gradually fallen down. All I've got so far is the title and a sketchy plot line. The title I'm very happy with, i can already picture it in the front of a bookshop with a sign saying _______ recommends and with a picture of a bullfighter and a writer on the front. Now if i sort the plot out and stick to the 600 i might actually see it happen. I'm listening to a combination of Damien Rice, Fightstar, the new Phonics album and Fionn Regan via you tube (whose album i need to get).
I am relaxed.

Put a penny in the slot.

P.S I will buy a drink for anyone who guesses my prospective title.
P.P.S would love to hear anyone else's ideas for titles so...

1984 and other adventures

Somethings been bugging me recently. And by recently I mean something has been bugging me for the last 5 minutes. Maybe you can help me out?

Why is it always 2 + 2 that equals 4?

And before you think that i'm getting all 1984 on you, i'm not. Of course 2 + 2 equals 4, but the point is so does 3 +1. And why is the answer 4 anyway? Why not simplify the work down a little bit more? Why isn't the line 1 + 1 makes 2, or 2 + 1 makes 3? Hell, i think that the majority of the conscious world would even be able to sit down down and work out what i meant if i pushed the saying to 3 + 3 is 6 or, God forbid, 5 + 5 is ten. This is simple arithmetic after all. I even think my three year old sister could manage it, if I could drag her away from The Teletubbies, or the Tweenies, or what ever crap they play the leaders of tomorrow to turn their mind into mush.

So, to summarize, 'I'm the type of guy who can never make 2 + 2 equal 4, not if i can make 5 + 5 equal ten.

As tends to follow

I have no idea how to post a link so here's the story i've sent to the jam. hopefully it'll be published but if not at least you lot can bask in it's brilliance.

I like Allie

I walked into my bedroom and sat down on the edge of my bed. It was night time and the lights were off. I was alone. I looked out of the window and into the darkness. There was a flickering of white light somewhere far away. I closed my eyes.

And then, as tends to follow, it was morning. And with morning came morning’s closest accomplice; my closest friend: nostalgic neuralgia, and hey, all that nostalgia can be a real headache. That morning I was remembering my little sister and the trips we used to take to the lake in the park.

“Ethan,” she’d say, for Ethan is my name.

“Yes Clare,” I’d say, for Clare is her name.

“My teacher told me that in every cloud there lives a thousand fairies.”

I looked out of the window and into the brightness. There were no fairies in the sky, just the sun and the sunshine. That was good. I liked it more when the sun was out. At least when the sun is out there is little risk of there being rain. When the sun is out everybody you see is walking around with a fake smile plastered on their stupid fucking faces. Everyone is smiling like something good is going on, like life isn’t shit and happening to us all. What really scares me though is when people walk around with a smile on their face in the rain; those bastards may actually be happy with their lives, and boy, that really is scary.

Anyway, back to the morning of which I tell my tale. I can’t remember accurately enough the date; but I do know that it was during the incomprehensible part of the year between summer and winter, when the weather has no direct affiliation with bitter cold or beaming sun. I remember needing to wear a thin sweater rather than a thick jumper. That is how I know it couldn’t have been cold that morning. After dressing I walked downstairs and ate toast for breakfast. I ate toast for breakfast every morning.

I sat down on the floor of my living room and reflexively turned on the television, in the same way that I reflexively go to the toilet when I need a piss and reflexively cry when I need to cry. There was a drama on channel 1 about guns and gun crime, or maybe it was the news; with a police officer grimly reporting on the death of a teenager in a quiet suburb, yet secretly smiling at his successful break into television and fame. I reflexively turned the television off, in the way I do whenever I think something painful could be real. After breakfast I left the house. After breakfast I always left the house.

I had been walking for five minutes before I realised just how quiet it was. I checked the time and I remember it being early, but not that early; not early enough for there to be no-one on the streets. There was no one on the streets but me. There was no one on the streets but her and me.

“Hello Ethan,” she smiled, for back then Ethan was my name.

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?”

“No. Who are you?”

“It’s me,” she said, “Clare,” she said, for her name was Clare back then.

“What?”

“Put the gun down Ethan.”

“What gun?” I looked down at my hand. I was holding a gun in my hand. Things were real. I was scared. I would’ve turned the television off but it wasn’t on the television. It was in my hand. I looked back up at Clare, for back then her name was Clare. My name was Ethan and her name was Clare. They made me change the names and the places and the time and the weather, but I promise you I’m not lying this time. My name was Ethan and her name was Clare. Her name is Chloe now. I like Chloe.

But Chloe is dead.

Paint Your Target

When i first read we had to write a blog for Creative Industries I was not impressed. I thought no-one is going to care about the ramblings of an angry Welsh guy, and frankly (with searing and soon to be customary honesty) i didn't want to spend any of my time plodding through streams of other peoples thoughts, loves, ambitions, blah blah blah. But then i got to thinking. I can talk nonsense about myself and (if i was not too tired to misinterpret last Thursday) you guys have to read it. Which is great.
Having skimmed through the blogs already posted by other people in the class i have come to one over-riding conclusion; everything i have wanted to talk about has already been covered. Needless to say this has not put me off. So, in a similar vain to Boothman I would like to talk about Mitchell and The Jam Magazine. During the summer i read a number of excellent books, including David Mitchell's Black Swan Green, Ivan Denisovich by Solzhenitsyn and a number of Martin Amis novels (most notably Times Arrow- A great read). While all of these books were very good i am not going to chat balls like it will change your life because books very rarely do that. However, read The accidental by Ali Smith. That might just do it.
I have just finished writing a short story and sent it off to the jam. It is called 'I like Allie' and I will try to post a link up here.
Now, a quick biography for anyone who hasn't grown pissed off and given up yet. I am twenty and will be when i graduate from university. I have Siblings. I was born in Cwmdare, Wales. I am not from the north. i am not Irish. And I am not the drummer from The Subways. I have great faith in my writing, and like Matt, hope to have something published somewhere by the end of the year. Also like Matt i am having real trouble getting up off my arse and writing anything longer than this blog. Me and Matt are not the same person though we seem to have said the same things.
People generally seem to like me more when I'm being nice.