Saturday, 29 May 2010
Now I had more dark thoughts circling in my head, was it from a store I had bought from perhaps the one named after a well known Rain Forrest? Or was it from when I won that short story completion online for which the first prize was £40 and my story (see two entries ago) would be printed in the e-magazine of the website? That darn e-zine hadn't been emailed to me yet and I was unaware of any payment from them so I had to investigate. First stop my bank via my online account, I knew this would come in handy one day but alas no joy. I entered what I perceived to be my password (it's one I use often, I know not a good idea) but after doing so I was confronted with another message telling me that my online banking service was frozen.
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Thursday, 20 May 2010
I was trawling the big Movie Studios websites (Warners, Dreamworks, Fox etc) to discover the latest greenlit films and casting news when I discovered something that has annoyed me somewhat.
Currently in development at the moment at the big studios, not including production companies like Lions Gate who have made about eight Saw movies, just counting the big studios there are about sixty sequels and over twenty remakes or reboot's in development alone.
There is even more in current production and post which leaves me wondering, has Hollywood ran out of originality? When I was younger some of the movies which are getting sequels or remakes would have made me smile but as a 28 year old some of them are a bit puzzling.
For instance do we really need a sequel to Super Troopers or Rounders.? Or a remake of Fright Night or Child's Play? Here's some of the others that are greenlit some good some bad.
Ghostbuster 3, Underworld 4, Wolverine 2, Bad Boys 3, Wildhogs 2, Hancock 2, Zoolander 2, Terminator 5, Die Hard 5, Scary Movie 5, Hairspray 2, Jumper 2, Enchanted 2, Hangover 2, Iron-man 3, High School Musical 4, Cloverfield 2, Beverly Hills Cop 4, Zombieland 2, Austin Powers 4, I Robot 2, Independence Day 2 & 3, Monster Inc 2, Evil Dead 4 (this I don't mind), Jeepers Creepers 3, Hobbit part 1 & 2, Star Trek 2, Bond 23(possibly), Alien (prequel), Kick Ass 2, Kill Bill 3, Sin City 2 & 3 and so on.
Spiderman, Child's Play, Fright Night, Judge Dredd, Hellraiser, Dune, Footloose, Robocop, Superman, Escape from New York, Knight Rider, Airwolf, Logan's Run, Death Wish, Westworld, The Birds, The Warriors, Near Dark, the Dirty Dozen and so on.
Is it just me or a lot of these titles from the eighties and late seventies? And a lot of sequels to Will Smith movies? Look I loved a lot of these titles first time round but some of them were of their time and won't fit in to the modern era of Cinema.
The Housebound Writer
Monday, 17 May 2010
Saturday, 15 May 2010
Wings of Change
By Andrew G. Carson
As he lay there bound by pain and damp by way of a Misty Scottish rain, James Batchelor had many thoughts running a competitive marathon through his mind. Was this the end to his legacy? Was this what he would be remembered for? After all he was the man that aged nineteen climbed Kilimanjaro in Tanzmania all nineteen thousand three hundred feet of it. He had conquered the great Kanchenjunga in India all twenty eight thousand, two hundred and eight feet of it just two years later.
He then moved onto Rainer and McKinley in the US, Logan in Canada and Popocatepetl in Mexico before the age of twenty four. Later he moved onto his greatest accomplishments in the form of Lhotse, Makalu and the pinnacle of all mountaineering.... Everest when he reached her peak on the dawn of his 30th Birthday. Six months later he conquered K2 in Kashmir to round off the set and equal the great climb of his hero Sir Edmund Hillary a man, a great man he had the privilege of meeting only a matter of weeks before his death in 2008.
To go from all these great achievments to finding himself sat in a puddle filled with his own blood pouring out of the various wounds occupying his twisted lower limbs. Seated at the foot of a Scottish mountain for which he didn't even know the name of. A mountain he would call a mud hill, to him this was no mountain and for this to be the mountain that finally beat him in the deadly game of chance was unacceptable.
The thought of the World wide roasting he would experience at the hands and mouths of his rivals was bad enough but the ridicule that would be unleashed upon him by the British tabloids was enough to make him hope he would remain unfound, he was almost praying the reaper would pay him a visit first.
The fact atop this mountain there were sheep grazing was not something the great James Batchelor could find amusing no his ego would not alow that. He had been the greatest mountaineer of his generation this World had to offer leading him to be compared to his hero by a great many people not just the lazy tabloids or the trying to be hip broadsheets but by many in the mountaineering community who regarded his immense talent only matched by his immense self opinion. After all he had been known to boast to all within hearing distance that he conquered all the big climbs by a younger age than any other a statement that although may have been true was still far from modest and not in the nature of the greats that had preceeded him.
James stared down towards his frayed blood soaked rags covered legs both of which were visibly broken, bright white bones brighter than he could ever have imagined they could be stabbing through defeated skin and tattered trousers. No doubt in his mind that his pelvis was also the result of the two to three hundred foot drop. He had climbed bigger mud hills than this when he was thirteen, hell by the age of fourteen he had climbed Ben Nevis these silly little Scottish mud hills didn't impress him these were biginner climbs no match for the best of the best that he was.
The sharp pain in his pelvis was the only thing now keeping him awake and possibly alive as the blood loss from his lower extremeties had now become excessive. 'Why God, why me? What the hell did I ever do?' James asked aloud. 'I will spit on your face if this is how you end me, I will spit on your face.' Lashing out at a God he doesn't even beleive in James lay in a puddle filled with a mix of Scottish rain and Kiwi blood and was loosing his mind, his eyes loosing focus.
How long had he lay here? How could an experienced climber like himself loose there grip so readily? Why the hell did he pull his car over in the pouring rain? Why did he jump the small roadside fence? Why did he walk the steep incline too the foot of the mountain and begin to climb unaided? What did he have left to prove to himself? He found himself pondering as the icy rain eased off he closed his eyes and quickly faded away to slumber.
James awoke to a voice echoing in his ears but as he opened his eyes he could not find the owner through the haze. He found the sharp pain in his pelvis had now faded to a dull twinge. 'Mister can I help yae?' the voice shouted once more. James realized the voice sounded like that of a child's. 'Are yae all right doon there?' the voice inquired. James looked skyward to the heavens and found that above him on a small ledge maybe five hundred feet up stood a boy of maybe ten years of age.
'I need help, get an adult'. James replied as loud as he could. 'My Da is away tae get 'em rescue guys.' The child shouted down with relief in his voice. 'How did you get up there?' James asked with a now evident rattle in his raspy voice. 'I climbed up wi' mae Da.' the youngster replied with great glee in his voice before turning around and disappearing from sight.
Time passed strangely for James as he awaited his rescue from the boy and his "Da", time almost seemed to stand still. He contemplated what the boy had said about climbing up with his father and James found himself remembering back to his own childhood when he too climbed mountains just like this one with his own father. The joy he experienced from those adventures led to the development of his passion for the bigger climbs and to discovering the legacy of his Hero Sir Edmund Hillary. The flashbacks also unvieled to him the day he told his father that his lack of skill was holding him back from his destiny and that he no longer needed him on his climbs.
Remembering that moment caused him more pain than any caused by his various injuries, how could he have been so stupid? How could he have let his ego get so out of control all those years ago? James found himself remembering back a few hours to the questions that had flooded his mind, why the hell did he pull his car over in the pouring rain? Why did he jump the small roadside fence? Why did he walk the steep incline to the foot of the mountain and begin to climb unaided?
He now knew the answers to those questions it was due to the fact that twenty two hours earlier he had watched his father's coffin lowered into his final resting place without James ever getting the chance to tell him how sorry he was for all the things he had said. He never got to tell him that the fondest memories he had of his entire life were those spent with his father climbing those mud hills.
James looked down at his mangled lifeless lower limbs knowing that he would never walk again let alone climb and knowing this he smiled, he smiled knowing why he travelled to this mountain. He knew why he stopped his car. He knew why he jumped the small roadside fence. he knew why he walked the steep incline to the foot of the mountain and began to climb unaided. He did all these things because this was the first mountain his father brought him too, the first mountain they climbed together and the first mountain upon reaching the top his father had told him how proud he was of him. He came to this mountain because he wanted no needed to hear those words once more.
The Housebound Writer
Thursday, 13 May 2010
The only thing that could make this work out is the fact that Kurt Russell is rumoured to be starring alongside Adrian Brody in Rupert Wainwright's WACO, a film retelling the 1993 stand off between the U. S Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives and Branch Davidian cult leader David Koresh. So fans of this duo can only hope.
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Monday, 10 May 2010
This may seem totally in the opposite direction to my previous diagnosis but hey the one before that was epilepsy and before that was a stroke so they are getting closer to a realistic reason for these seizures. Saying that I will have to now be placed on a waiting list to see a Neuro-Specialist and UK NHS waiting times are famous World wide for their length (possibly 9 months) but optimism is what I’m going with on this one not my usual pessimist attitude, optimism reigns supreme.
That being said the fact that she doesn’t hold out much hope for the seizures stopping, I mean stopping full stop merely cutting the sheer number down to a couple a week or something like that but hey I’ll take anything at this point as I’ve had upwards of six, seven a day at times and I’m a big guy, REALLY REALLY BIG GUY when I fall I fall hard, I’ve had enough broken bones, concussions and a dislocated shoulder to prove that point.
But alas optimism is what I’m going for on this one, optimism reigns supreme.
The Housebound Writer
Saturday, 8 May 2010
When I have my seizures he runs to find someone and barks at them and leads them to my location just like Lassie or the Littlest Hobo would on TV.
The difference between Oscar and Lassie or the Littlest Hobo is Oscar is nuts! Now I don't mean nuts in a funny way I mean nuts full stop. He will attack the ironing board when it is brought out of the cupboard, he will attack your feet when you get up to answer the phone. He rips the mail to pieces if you don't shut him in another room when you go to collect it, he barks for ages when someone visits the house who he has never seen before and so on.
He's simply just nuts but the truth be known I wouldn't have him any other way. I don't want a well trained Lassie or Littlest Hobo when I can have a nutball Oscar who is after all an incredibly loyal pet and a great friend, also did I mention he's completely nuts!
Thursday, 6 May 2010
With my busy life of doing nothing, getting up at the crack of lunch time and having numerous seizures I forgot to get the right to a postal vote and when I was going to brave the trip to the local primary school polling station I felt to dizzy to go. The rest of the household headed out leaving myself, my Gran (who had remembered to get a postal vote) and the dog behind, moments later I had a seizure and fell over the banister landing heavily (see pictures on site for reasons) on the staircase. When I came too I was left completely breathless and badly bruised but thankfull that this happened at home and not in front of a group of hesitant voters.
The reason I decided to entitle this entry '10 ways to kill your blog', was a rather simple one to grab your attention and then hopefully hold onto it with this rather personal of blog entries. I do have one tip to avoid killing your blog and here it is:
Don't write for anyone other than yourself, don't tailor make your blog for what you believe to be it's target audience and just write what you want to write about and if you don't get the big numbers at least you will have appeased your own inner reader.
Those people who tell you that this is a business and you've got to write about this and have that widget, you know what I say screw 'em and just be yourself.
The Housebound Writer
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Scottish Liberal Democrat leader Tavish Scott (good Scottish name) will campaign in the Scottish capital city Edinburgh and so will Scottish National Party leader and current First Minister of Scotland Alex Salmond who will be taking in numerous areas all over the country to try and win support back for his party after their failed bid to get the PM debates taken off the air.
The Conservatives will focus their efforts on the Dumfries and Galloway area with David Mundell(?) vigorously campaigning. Labour's Jim Murphy and Douglas Alexander will be heading to Barhead, East Renfrewshire.
South of the Border Prime Minister Gordon Brown, Conservative leader David Cameron and Lib Dem leader Nick Clegg have made their final plea to the public before voting on Thursday's election gets under way.
Gordon Brown said 'Only Labour could take the country forward and would always be on your side'.
David Cameron said 'A victory for the Conservative party would bring hope, optimism and change'. He also urged voters to 'trust their better instincts'.
Nick Clegg said simply 'This election is our chance'.
The polling stations open on thursday at 7am BST and close at 10pm BST.
And that's enough of that thanking you
The Housebound Writer.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
James untucked his favourite author's latest and opened the book to the marked page and began to read the horrific tale, lips mimicking speech and with one eye on the quiet disserted street ahead he paced on towards his destination remembering tonight he was getting to study with Macy Blair the girl he has had his eye on since high school and tonight was going to be his night to make his move.
Macy first came to his attention while they were teamed together by their science teacher as lab partners and for the next two years James spent every moment of those classes trying not to look like a fool in front of her or be caught when he was staring from behind his notebook.
James felt more confident now than he did as a fourteen year old scrawny kid but he new from past experience Macy still obtained the power to make his hands run sweaty and his lips run dry. She had come back into his life after nearly a three year absence, she was partnered with another girl named Laura Greenwalt in fifth year and James was demoted to sneaking sideway glances towards her in class.
But yet again they were partners in the lab as Macy herself was now attending university after taking a short break from her studies to travel around Europe backpacking with friends. The difference this time James conveyed to himself was she needed his help to catch up with the rest of the class as she was finding the time she took away from her studies had seriously affected her attention span and had come to find herself falling rapidly behind the rest of the students in the class even the mature student Isa Fonty, a sixty three year old divorcee who was trying something new.
Physics was not something to try on a whim thought James but to his astonishment Ms. Isa Fonty had grasped the subject with both hands and now fully owned it. Her growing knowledge only matched with her growing self esteem which she had found sorely lacking after she discovered her husband of thirty eight years had had an illicit affair with an ex girlfriend of their twenty three year old son.
This had come as a shock to dear Isa as her husband had always been an incessant bore of a man or at least he had been as far back as she could remember and he had never been described by anyone as a Robert Redford in the looks department more a Danny DeVito even the blind man at the fountain knew that. He was neither handsome nor rich so to what this young bimbo of a lass saw in him she knew not but she was in a way indebted to her although she would never tell her such a thing but she was indebted to her for giving Isa her life back and giving her a new found passion, Physics.
James was distracted by thoughts rushing through his head of how to broach the subject, he couldn’t just ask Macy at the beginning of the tutoring session as she would only say yes out of some sort of guilt. Maybe he should wait till the end and then ask her as she is leaving if she says no he can play it off as a joke and then quickly and hopefully hiding his embarrassment he can high tail it out of there with no one the wiser.
If only he could be as heroic as the mysterious Jack Elmry of Bradley M. Hawks series of Killer Winds novels, he fears no man nor beast and always gets the girl. James thought to himself that in the real world Jack Elmry would probably be locked up in the nut house for believing in the beasties of the night but in the novels he was the greatest modern day literary hero in James’ eyes and possibly millions of others. How does Hawks create such vivid characters James wondered to himself as he continued his long walk along the bare Civil street which stretches down to the town’s high street and down to the public Library and James could feel his hands begin to sweat.