A Little Story, About The Failure Of A Man On The Inside.

With one last draw of the crooked cigarette, he found himself looking out the window. Inspiration comes easy to those who are dedicated, new too or in a budding area of interest. But this was his 105th title, ideas were stale. Ideas that got him through his early 20's and into his late 30's were no longer there, was he getting old? He sure felt it.

Granted there was a surplus of things he wanted to say, true he was still considered New York's greatest author on this topic. If you could call him an author.

As another cigarette was lit he leered at a poster on the wall, the sunlight through his one bedroom apartment was just enough to cause the glossy finish to create a reflection. A reflection of himself, he was tired, years in the biz had been very unkind to him. Oily hair that was receding, skin that not much better. His eyes were sunken and very grey. He remembered when they were dark, how did they become so grey, was this healthy? Who knows. His health wasn't the highest of his priorities.

Parties, drugs and women, were all that this industry had brought him. Sure he had his pick of any fresh faced girl at any of the closed door gatherings that were constantly being held around his over crowded city. Even if he left, the parties were always there. Was it he that found them, or did they come looking for him. He thought it was a little of column B and alot of column A.

He knew it was wrong, but he thought it would help him out of the rut he was in. 3 oversized lines and a pot of coffee and the distinct feeling of agitation is rife through his rotten body. For he is sick. He knows it. The doctors told him to take it very easy and possibly retire to a calmer industry. This was all he knew. He was good at it. "Was" being the operative word.

The agitation was unbearable. He decided to go for a 3 smoke walk. In his youth this would do the trick. He would end up at a bar on the second cigarette and find himself inhaling a whole packet by the time they kicked him out. It got the job done. He would be inspired.

These days he wasn't as lucky, his increasing emphysema and frail immune system often meant that the elevator ride was far too laborious. So with that in mind he walked out onto his rickety and half constructed balcony. The ash tray was overfilled and full of water from days of rain that had drenched the apple of larger proportions. The local birds had tossed a few cigarette butts around while he had taken one of his mandatory afternoon naps. He cleaned them up. He shook really bad. 

How did this happen to him? Was America to blame? Was it his fault? Who did this to him? The System? The Industry? The girls? The booze? These thoughts swirled his head has he inhaled another dark drag of taxable nicotine. This was their fault. They got him hooked. They gave him the job. He didn't ask for it. It was their fault. They had to pay.

With this renewed hatred for his work he took to his rusty typewriter. 12 hours. 3 Grams. 14 pots of coffee later, a wired man punches the period mark, this time at least. His hands tremble so much he almost tears the final page as he removes it from the typewriter. This is not good. But he knows there is only a few hours before he can sit down and be at peace. No one will hound him for a new piece for a while. This will give him a chance to look after himself. He knows he is lying. 

Under a cold shower he tries to plan for the day that is after his 2pm meeting. He visions, with cold water pouring on his brow, taking a walk to Coney Island and eating ice cream. This used to make him so happy, but these days happiness was far from his person. What else should he do? He would ask you. If he could trust you. The shower hammer is bad in this building, it makes him irritable. As the final water droplet comes out of the shower head, it is clear he needs to leave. Around the apartment is a cascade of worn clothes, a smell test aids his decision. Once he is ready. He leaves. Work under arm.

The sun is his enemy, everything is his enemy. Children race by on bikes, he hates their youth. Old ladies smile at him on the street, he snarls. Elderly people make him sick. A religious man offers to save his soul. He doesn't need a soul. 

There is a clock above a furniture building, he has 25 minutes. He proceeds to walk into a bar, he feels a beer might calm his nerves. It used to. He was tired of everything working in the past.

The bartender apprehensively serves a beer. Blood shot eyes and a severe case of tremors make it hard to serve this man a beer. 25 minutes was not enough to finish the beverage. Not this time. Not in his state.

The first step off the barstool was the hardest, but once he started moving it got easier. He was proud of himself. He was feeling better. This was cause for celebration. He lights another cigarette. Instantly his demeanor  falls, he feels lethargic, teary and generally ill. How did he think it was going to make him feel? He spent so many years trying to make himself feel better. If he was tired, a line would make it better for a while, this inturn made him anxious, so a line and a cigarette was his answer, this mad him feel worse... he was now out of breath and suffering severe anxiety. A beer and and a shot of heroin, or rolling a joint would fix this, but that made him tired. Coffee anyone?

A security guard of a rather large build asks him who he would like to see. Mr Peter Swanski was the managing director, he disliked Mr Swanski very much. Peter was the son of the late Jonathan Swanski. Peter was ruthless, unkind and very dictatived by youth. You could tell by the garbage he was putting the company name too. Jonathan was more into the classic nature of the business, he thought that the audience should be led into the story. His son, Peter thought that plot wasted the audiences time. 

As the elevator door opens on level 38, he runs into a fellow colleague. He looked much worse then he remembered. The industry had been just as unkind to him, if not worse. This made him feel better, and more confident about his work. It was a cruel way to treat a person you had known for most of your glory years, reveling in the lime light as equals, but times had changed. They were enemies. Enemies fighting for the scraps. With a kind handshake and a promise to reconvene at another time, the two walk in opposite directions. "Fucking loser" is simultaneously muttered. 

Gretel Harger is the secretary for Mr Swanski Jnr. She is small, with a girlish laugh. She dates men who tell her she is pretty, loves believing in crystals and the hidden energy they possess. She has 2 brothers, one who is in jail for rape and the other one a heroin junkie returned from the war and now lives in a bunk house in the back of colorado writing death threats to little old ladies in the local community... he doesn't mean it. He is a hero. Scumbag.

As a childish message is conveyed to a sniffling man through an intercom that was worth more than his apartment, he is called into the office.

Rejection.

His work was rejected.

Who gets rejected as a writer for porn flicks.

Obviously he did

Fucking loser.

Hope On High.

As things appear on the news. The hear is not to far from sinking. We are faced with nothing but a pure abolition of what could be right. It is a dark period.

Spilled Over.

By Paris Hitler.

As the cigarette left my fingers, and the deathly cloud of exhale was drawn from my lungs.

I found myself in a spoil of turmoil.

Somewhere that I had been before.

It's the lack of non walled outfits. The lack of a new tomorrow.

With out fear. With more love.

We are toiling for nothing and achieving less.

This must be hell.

But in the dark, and striving minion. Something finds a way to shine.

Hope.

Hope.

Hope.

I has no reason. It has no formula.

But it is all we have.

I wrote this after I saw the following images. The Daffodil is the mountain flower. It appears as a shote, some make it. Some don't. The ones that do. Are seen below.

Why It Was So Hard.

The Difference Of Opinion.

The Balance Of Two Mindsets.

Does anyone feel that the true meaning of Yin and Yang is in effect, I mean, if you are in Sydney at the moment you would of seen the chaos that the Pope Benedict created. Sydney turned into a receptacle of do gooders all looking for a reason to pray. The Pope got on the plane today, leaving our city with a similar comment to the one given by the previous Olympic Commissioner left. Now, let's get dark... Sydney this week hosts none other than Belladonna! The woman who made bodily cavities a useful and convenient storage device. I really think someone should of organised this a little better. Don't you?

PS: I thinks its great.

PPS: Pope BennaDICt. 

PPS: Belladona. They look the same, and the previous prolly best describes Ms Donna's career.  

Dark Knights And Open Story Lines.

Last night was beer and skittles. Lets face it, you know it, I know it... but I spent 100 beans on beer and skittles. I have no regrets. None.
For I went and saw the Dark Knight, the new Batman saga installation. Let me say it lived up to all I expected, the gadgets, the dialogue, the acting and most of all the evolution of what seems still a juvenile Gotham City. In saying that, I feel that most, if not all characters are in a developmental phase. The movie picks up where Batman Begins left off, the Bat is now on top of his game as far as personal emotional hang ups and is now a taut figure in the eyes of the justice system and a conjure of fear for the plethora of small time crooks and mobsters. Where we see Gotham in this film, is a different level of crooked policing and a much more organised group of sinister mobsters. The thing is, there is not much difference between both camps, but there is a high disapproval for what the Bat has done for Gotham. 

The mobsters are angry at their flailing plans, and the police are angry because the mobsters are a high source of input into a fiscal and attention hungry law enforcement outfit.

No one is happy.

Then, in comes the Joker, the only one who sees the current predicament as a source for abnormal and anarchistic excitement. He cares not for the mob, he cares not for the just. He just wants everyone to see that they are all absurd... and hopefully drag them into his personal delusion. Boy, does he do a great job. 

Acting wise, this movie is phenominal. Heath Ledger is simply amazing, and with the death of him still ringing in the ears of the world. It is fitting that he went out with this role. For, if you see this as a cruel statement, if he overdosed naked in a new york apartment after a role of more sentimental touch. His death would be seen as a disgrace. But out goes the anti-hero, and God bless this world for having them. They really do point out the realistic burden society puts on its entertainers. God bless you Heath.

Christian Bale is at his all time best. I was talking to a close friend who is an avid movie buff, and I was in complete line to say that he is of the exact prestige of actors like Johnny Depp. He is as involved with the Batman as he is with the wealthy tycoon Bruce Wayne. I don't know if it is just me, but American Psycho really added to his exuberant performance of the head of Wayne Enterprises. He is the perfect cast that has the ability to switch between both figures.

Gary Oldman, as Commissioner Gordan, is amazing. The movie takes him from his Lieutenant position and shows the evolution to the Commissioner role. One would think that once the honor was bestowed he would be the fast talking Gordon we all know from the original Batman series... But thank heavens it doesn't. Where this saga has amazing strength, and when I say amazing; I REALLY MEAN IT, is the growth of all the characters, it is not in a step by step format like a university graduation, where the character graduates to the next phase of maturity, they have to earn it, and watching the characters fill the shoes of the final stage of character growth is an awesome ride.

Where the movie takes a weaker twist is the development of the Two- Face character. This interception appears about three quarters into the movie. Some see it as a rushed addition to the plot, that the Two Face is a weak and very unmannered depiction of the comic version. After speaking extensively with the said close friend, we came to a consensus, after about 12 beers, that this was the stepping stone for the the precursor film, and with out giving too much away I would like to predict the next Batman Installment (note: for those who have not seen the movie, please cover your eyes right now as certain explanations will destroy the movie for you.)

Ryan and Aidan's combined prediction of the next Batman flick: The end of the movie sees a confused and agonized Harvey Dent (Two-Face) take hostage of Gordon's family at the place where his beloved Rachel was decisively murdered. Harvey blames Gordon for what has happened to his face and also for the loss of his true love. He makes Gordon choose his most loved family member, so that in an act of cruel desperation, Harvey attempts to make a brutal execution in front of the Commissioners own eyes, as a payback for his inevitable loss. The family member is the son. His prized son. Dialogue is exchanged between Dent and Gordon about how they will now be even, whilst the boy is trembling and apologies from Gordon come as sincere as any, in that situation. Gordon plea's with the estranged lawyer and makes little to no ground. Batman arrives, and after a struggle manages to rescue the boy but in the process push Dent off a heightened landing. When the dust settles, a bruised and battered Batman, in the company of his son, tells Gordon that Gotham does not need another vigilante, and in an anti - heroic measure accepts the blame for all of Dent's insanity driven crimes. Gordon reluctantly accepts the offer, knowing that in the grand scheme, Batman can take on any adversary, but Gotham needs to remember Harvey Dent for the good work he had done, prior to his accident. As Gordon makes the call, police are now ordered to pursue the Bat,  but as this call is made, the Son screams "He Didn't Do it!"

The Plot:  After all is said and done, the people of Gotham attend what can be best described as a state funeral for Harvey Dent. Exalting him as one of Gotham's finest. This is the perfect counterbalance of the Two-Face character. One side of him, engrossed in rage and agony over the loss of his true love, and disfiguration of his person, but on the other side... he is revered as the White Knight of Justice. Batman, now more than ever is the darker of anti-heroic figures, is being chased and accused of the murder of 6 people. 3 whom were police officers. Gordon being the only one knowing that he is truly innocent, but has to falsely pursue the Bat to save the face of Harvey Dent, now Two-Face, is faced with an even closer predicament, in the moments when he was asked by the enraged Dent, to decide who was his most loved family member, his daughter and wife were left out. This will create a massive tension. We figure his daughter, will respect Batman more than her father, she will idolize him no end, as she feels her life would be over if the Bat had not of saved her. She resents her father. Her idolization goes through her teenage years, as the movie only shows her and her brother as very young. She will dream of nothing more, and we think this is the format for Bat Girl. The comics tell us that Batgirl wanted to be Batman, with no association to the actual Batman, more something of her own violation. The comics also tell us that she has an accident that leads to her being a paraplegic as a result of her actions. This angers her Father, who is now a very fragile creature (what with the covering of Harvey Dent, The false pursuit of Batman and the now case of his broken daughter), we think this will play a massive role. The anger is too much for it not too. Two-Face grows into his character, with alot more depth. He is now inbuilt with rage and also an honor that has been appointed by Gordon, which has made him hide to salvage his own dignity, a part of the narcissistic face. He becomes darker and darker as the self loathing aspect begins to chew his moral core... every day it gets harder and harder to subdue his dark side. This resentment in-turn, turns back to Gordon... for he made him the way he is... the both sides of the coin. This turns into a violent secretive outburst that sees more people mysteriously murdered... both police and mobster. The Bat has to be blamed... as Gordon has gone too far with this volatile secret. The intensity and anger from Gotham citizens becomes akin to a witch hunt on Batman. The corrupt police and mobsters see this as a way to once and for all rid themselves of the Bat, the Bat becomes weak from the sheer amount of people after him. But here is the twist, the Son... the boy who saw him initially take the wrap for Gordon and Dent's secret now despises his father also, he takes pursuit of a venture to help Batman. Reluctantly we feel this is the inception of the Robin character. The boy tries real hard to convince Batman, who is now on the verge of becoming a villain to clear his name. Expose the now Two-Face, previously Harvey Dent (a man that Batman saw as the future hero for Gotham thru due process cause). The Dent rampage becomes more sinister, taking out more than the law and crime, but now civilians who deem his appearance as ungodly. Batman takes a stance, he also accepts the help of his new sidekick. They work independently and achieve set goals. Gordon who is still after the Bat, appears at a crime scene to find his son has taken the path of the force he is trying to convict. This is all too much.

That is where I will end it, as it makes for the excitement that could possibly purge into the next episode of the saga.

I will try and get a TAB betting tip on this...

But to me, and I hope Aidan....

We have created longevity for such an awesome story.

x 

Bumped Around In A Family Of Seven, With One Car.

It is no different to the time before. I have woken to find myself with the plethora of choice that is a Saturday. No disrespect to any of you other days, but Saturday is like no other for me. The other day that comes close, is prolly Friday. But it is just a pre cursor to Saturday. 

Saturday holds high esteem as it is carefully buffered with the goodness of the end of the week and the possibility of another day of peace the following day. It also presents it self as a day, where you choose your own productivity. I like that.

Today is Saturday. 

Today I am going to visit family in Sydney.

Today I am going to drink coffee that could hold a stick up.

Today I am going to see some friends.

Today I am going to see my dog. 

Today I am going to get the car washed.

Today I might have a look at a new lens.

Today I will probably have to put fuel in my car.

Today I might pull out some tools and give a mate a hand.

Today I put irish cream in my coffee.

Today is a good day.

Enjoy.