Wednesday, November 02, 2011

A quick writing exercise

Writing words and singing songs, he did anything to take his mind off it. Nothing worked. There in the back of his head it niggled at him. He ran a bath, he did some gardening, he cooked some meat and masturbated but still it was there. Eating at his brain. He wanted a cigarette but he had quit. What a time to quit. The stress was mounting inside him as he thought about what he had done and what he must do. He couldn’t block it out now. He had focused on it for a second and now it was there. Prominent in his mind he could not escape it, but what to do. He searched the cupboards for a smoke, anything to relax his mind. He found a bottle of rum. He skulled it down, the liquid burnt his stomach but did nothing to calm his mind. He found a smoke and lit it. He went through it in just over a minute and was already looking for another. It would not do. He had to face it, deal with it some how. He walked back to the room. Slowly. Not slow enough for his liking. He reached the room and opened the door. He had hoped the door would block it out; shutting the door would shut his mind to it. He was wrong. He stood there staring, a blank expression on his face. He wasn’t feeling anything, not because he was emotionless but because he didn’t know what to feel. Maybe it hadn’t sunk in yet, he said to himself. It was a lie. He knew it was a lie. He could lie to everyone else but one thing he couldn’t do was lie to himself. Not while staring at all that blood. There was so much, too much. He would have to clean it. He had never cleaned blood from a carpet before. Why did the carpet have to be cream coloured? He was ill equipped to deal with this situation. He wanted to call someone, but whom could he call? He couldn’t tell anyone or he would have to kill them too. No, he was on his own for this one. He snapped out of his reverie and went to the shed to fetch a shovel. It was dark; it hadn’t been dark when he had done the deed. How long had he avoided it, and how long did he have before his crime was discovered? He fumbled in the shed before grasping the shovel and carrying it to a suitable plot in the back yard. He dug a hole. He dug it deep. Much deeper than was necessary but he didn’t want the smell seeping out, didn’t want the rain uncovering it. Hours later he dragged himself out of the hole and returned to the room. It was starting to stink or was he paranoid? He couldn’t tell. With the body gone would the smell remain? Was he doing all this for nothing? He had thought of saying it was an accident. He accidentally hit her on the head ten times with a ballpoint hammer. Who would believe that? Even he wasn’t that stupid. He had let her get to him and he had lost control. Not for long, just long enough to kill her and splatter her blood all over the room. He stood there staring at her lifeless body again. He didn’t want to touch her. The rug. The blood soaked rug. He wrapped it round her body and picked it up. It felt so light in his arms. A body shouldn’t be so light. He took it out the back and dropped it in the hole. There were no tears. No remorse. He went back to the room and scrubbed everything. Even when the blood was gone he kept scrubbing. He could still smell it. That rotting decay of dead flesh, it was stuck in his nose, even when he breathed through his mouth the smell still haunted him. Eventually he collected the cleaning rags and took them out the back. They too went in the hole and then he filled it in. He sighed in relief when the job was done now all he needed was a story. Something believable. He went inside and sat down. He waited for someone to come. No one did, he woke when the sun was high on the horizon. There was a knocking at the door. It echoed in his head. The alcohol he had consumed last night had given him a headache, along with the knocking was a ringing in his ears. All at once every memory of the previous night came rushing back into his head. What he did and what was dead. He got up and walked to the door, he creaked it open and looked outside. Police. His mind instantly panicked. How could they know? They just stared at each other, him and the policeman. The policeman looked down, in his hand was a jacket. He handed through the door and said something but the words got lost. He couldn’t hear a word of it; he just looked at the jacket that was now in his hands. There was blood on it, his wife’s blood. Oh cruel fate, he had killed her dog to gain more of her attention and had sent her out so she wouldn’t know that he was hiding the body. Now he would never see her again. Never confess his crime to her or his love for her. He hugged the jacket and something jingled. He heard it. He searched through the jacket and found it in a pocket.
A new collar for the bloody dog.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Phantom 25th anniversary

October 9th
State theatre, Sydney, Australia

It comes upon me when I least expect it. This urning, burning inside of me. Today however I knew it would find me. Today of all days, but I denied it yet again. I saw the 25th anniversary screening of the Phantom of the Opera at the State Theatre. I've noticed some small changes added to make the sequel seem more believable, not lyrics or anything, just body language and that makes all the difference. Now I have seen both Phantom, and Love Never Dies with Ramin and Sierra in the lead roles. They have beautiful voices and I enjoyed witnessing it. Although filmed last weekend it did not air in Australia until today, and now I find it is 25 years to the day that Phantom was first performed. It must be fate, I wasn't even going to go, I knew I'd have to go alone, and giving my sleeping habits it would have to be the late session, for Which I would have to rise earlier than usual. So I didn't book, and then something niggled at my ear, something telling me I belong there. I know I don't really belong anywhere, but I listened to the voice in my head, booked a ticket, got quite a good seat considering I left it late, the seats on either side of me were empty, I must have inadvertently chosen the more expensive seating area. No matter, I did enjoy it, but as always watching any production of it leaves me feeling empty and with an urge to break something. Not sure why. I quite enjoyed seeing it alone. I will have to go to more things alone.

This was the first time I have ever witnessed an Orchestra elevated and behind the stage, as oposed to in the pit in front of it. This was perhaps done to make filming easier, either way I think it was a brilliant concept, as was the screen work featured in the background set, it wasnt over done, it was just perfect. I did find it amusing That the phantom had way more prosthetics in this than in LND, time heals all wounds I guess. The close up shots were breathtaking, and the music still rings in my head, but then again, thats where the music belongs.

It has been 6 days since I quit smoking. It's not the nicotine I miss, it's something to do to pass the time, something to occupy my hands. Something to stop me wanting to strangle the little screaming shit that is on this train with me as I make my way home. I got to Sydney early, I walked round smoke free well enough, glaring at other people as they enjoyed the luxury of cigarettes. Intermission of the show was strange, I knew when intermission was and I knew where the toilets were, having been to the State Theatre before, I had the advantage and I took it. Although I was seated down the front I was still second in, and thank god, cause the line was huge by the time I left. But what to do with the other 17 minutes. I sat in my seat, alone, staring round the venue. It is a beautiful theatre, the chandelier is said to be one of the oldest and most expensive in the world, though examining it as I did, it is in need of repair. I last saw Paul McDermotts Scree in that theatre, I did like it, but I loved this a hell of a lot more. Having gotten out of bed before 1pm I was somewhat drowsy, either that or the gold plated water I bought was drugged. I found myself lightheaded and getting vertigo from the Albert Hall aerial shots. Those in the back of that theatre could not have seen much. Much better to see it on film. There is a pirate version on YouTube or there was, it won't be there long, but still I think I will by a copy of it when it is released in December.

So now I find myself on a urine scented train, chewing on gum to take my mind of cigarettes... IT'S NOT WORKING!
it's dark out, 10pm and I know I have no drink in the house, please let a shop be open. I guess I find myself enriched by the days experience, but I'm not really sure, the phantoms life so resembles my own that every time I see it now I seem to feel little hatred and loathing after, I always assumed I was unique, but no. Everything has been done before, even our pitiful little lives. Forgive me, lack of nicotine has made me bitter hence the reason the gates on my house are permanently locked and the doorbell has been disabled. No visitors welcome. I am in no mood to entertain guests, if you disregard this advice take note that I've spent many years thinking about ways to get away with murder. You have been warned.

To sum up, FUCKING AWESOME SHOW!!!!!


Sent from my iPod

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The unemployment market.

Never before have I felt so dejected with myself. Looking for work has to be the most confidence crushing experience I have ever partaken in. Made worse by everyone around you offering to help get you menial work where you will end up homicidal or worse, suicidal. You must smile politely and say you’ll look into it. Then there are those that pressure you about said menial work;
“Why haven’t you applied yet,” or,
“A job like that will go quick, you don’t really want to work do you?”
It takes every ounce of your being to refrain from saying, “if I take that job I’ll want to top myself in a week.”
Do these people even know you? Perhaps not as well as they should. How I tire of being greeted with, “so how’s the job searching going?” If it were going well I’d be at work, you ass.
The job market itself it really depressing. You must have 5 years experience, be fresh out of university, oh and not be too old. These people don’t want employees: they want a miracle. Lets just disregard the cost for a moment. I don’t see the point of doing 6 months of university to get my masters, if I still can’t get a job in the field because I don’t have field experience. Give me the job on a temp basis and I will do the course at the same time, believe it or not, I can multi-task. Then there’s the cost, clearly I am unemployed, hence I am looking for a job, I do not wish to throw five thousand dollars away on a course which may not even guarantee me a job upon completion. If it did guarantee me one, I would sign up today. Still that would mean six more months of unemployment and no stable living arrangement. Which has already driven me insane.
Every day I look at the job market, various sites, I don’t want to limit my options, and every day I walk away from it dejected. I apply for countless jobs, I have rewritten my cover letter and resume numerous times and still I don’t get a single reply. I did get one, of rejection, from a company I offered to work for free for, just to get a leg in the door. They must have sensed my pitiful desperation and did the decent thing but actually responding. Ahh even a rejection is better than no reply at all, at least then I know someone is reading something of mine, I’m not just sending my resume out into the ether a million times to be lost in the world of cyberspace forever.
I want a job where I can incorporate my writing skills; I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I have a bachelors in humanities and can easily get into a masters course in anything, but I need to know if it will further my career to do so.
What I find most upsetting is everyday I search for a job and yet everyday I am called lazy and a bludger because I don’t have a job. One of the many reasons I want a job is to escape the abuse from others, but being career minded, I wont settle for shit.
Getting a job is only easy if you are willing to do shit work for peanuts.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Coming soon

Jobsearch rant.

baby pictures

This has to be said people, BABIES ARE NOT CUTE, they are ugly, I can tolerate baby pictures in small doses, but ultrasound pictures!!! What is wrong with you people? They are ugly enough when they come out, I don't want to see them squished up inside your guts. Think of me! I do. What comes next people? Photos of the sperm fertilizing the egg? I draw the line if its not breathing; I don't want to see it. Honestly, think about it, do you like staring at fifty million pictures of someone else’s brat with its snot nosed face pushed up against something. Of course you don’t, but you smile and say, “Oh isn’t he cute.” Because you don’t want to be seen as a selfish prat, even though you are. It’s nothing to be a shamed of, we all are selfish prats. This woman showing you pictures of little Johnny wetting himself for the first time doesn’t care about you; she just wants you to praise her on her achievement. Well done lady, you forgot to use protection and now look at the little money trap you’re stuck with for the rest of your life.
I have been subjected to pictures of these little money-sucking leeches for most of my life, from pretty much right after I stoped being one, and we don’t care people. Your children are ugly, mine would be too, and that’s why I’m doing the world a favour and not breeding. Then we have to sit there and listen to you talk like a baby to your child. How is it supposed to master the language if you can’t bloody do it? Tell me that. No wonder children are going backward.
Now Facebook, yes that great social network, gives people the ability to plaster millions of pictures of your little birth defect all over the internet, so that millions of strangers can watch little Johnny roll in his own filth. I’m sure the paedophiles love this new craze, but for us law abiding citizens it’s boring people, and the kid usually looks the same in every picture. Not only that, they are all starting to look the same to me, yes they are all ugly, but they used to have unique ugliness, not anymore.
With that being said, you can imagine my disgust to log on to facebook and find ultrasounds of someone’s child everywhere. I don’t want to see ultrasounds from someone I know, and I don’t even know these people. I have an ultrasound. It’s of my gall bladder filled with gallstones. Took me ages to grow those little buggers thill they reached the point of nearly killing me so that I had to have them cut out. I’m proud of them. Do you want to see that? I still have them in a jar; I’ll move it round the back yard and chronicle its life, just like you’ve done with little Johnny. They can watch each other grow. Okay, maybe I’m going a bit far, but so are you people. Think of others and stop showing us pictures of your insides.
Unless you happen to have something weird stuck in there, like a bottle of alcohol or something. That’s something I would want to see.

Love Never Dies - a Critique

WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS

Viewed at the Adelphi Theatre, London, 14/7/10

The problem with any sequel is how to live up to the expectations set by the first. The first in this case being, 'The Phantom of the Opera', which will hereafter be referred to as 'Phantom' and 'Love Never dies' as 'LND'. 'Phantom' was such a phenomenal success that there really was no way to live up to it, Webber adapted the story of 'Phantom' to make a fantastical musical with music so moving it will stand the test of time. 'LND' he wrote himself, I've no doubt that he is a brilliant composer and writes brilliant musicals, but sadly 'LND' was not quite right.

'LND' also had phenomenal music to equal that of 'Phantom', not as dark though, and in some places it really should have been, but the music is still in my head and no doubt will be forever. It truly is that powerful and the actors did a marvellous job of performing it, so there is no questioning its brilliance. There was a slight revival of the music for the song Prima Donna, from 'Phantom', the latter appearance of it in 'Phantom' not the over the top singing appearance. The soft and sweet one as sung by Christine in the chapel on the night of the kidnapping. Just enough to tie the two musicals together, not over the top at all.

The main problem I found with the musical was that the characters were not accurate representations of who they were in part one, I know 10 years had past, but the back-story was wrong.

The back-story goes that, on the night before she was wed Christine hunted down the phantom for an act of infidelity. This does not fit because in 'Phantom', she was not in love with him, she was mesmerised by him, but she was in love with Raoul. It was made clear that she bared no love for the phantom, only pity and compassion. Yet here we find she not only slept with the Phantom, but would also have stayed with him had he not run off before the dawn. I didn't quite understand why he ran off before the dawn, he stated that he was ashamed, of what I do not know, I was sitting in the gods so could not quite interpret that portion of the song.

Ten years later we find the Phantom in Coney Island, America. A very tacky setting for any musical, but I was willing to overlook that and hope for greatness all the same. The American accent has always bothered me, hearing them sing in that tone; American drawl I call it, I find it excruciating, but it was a fitting set for a freak to hide among other freaks (I do not feel the Phantom or any of the others were freaks, it's how they described themselves in 'LND'. I do not mean to offend any Americans, but knowing I have, I apologise and move on.)

The set; the smoke with horses in it was superb, and mystifying. The screen I loathed, a little of it would not have been so bad, but it was relied upon too much and made it feel as if I were in a cinema and not a theatre. Also anyone wearing black, which included a lot of the main characters, had the projection, which was meant for the screen appear on them. It made them appear almost ghost like, in some places this might have been the point, but in others it did not look right and took ones focus away from the telling of the story. The revolving stage was genius, I've seen these used before and they always go down a treat. It best portrayed the backstage/stage area of Christine's main musical number. I do not believe there was a better way of doing that. Minimal props were used, this seemed rather odd to me, I am not saying clutter the stage, but the best way to show who someone is, is by the things they surround themselves with. Show, don't tell as it were, and there was a lot of telling in it. The moving hair and mouths on one of the props in the Phantoms room was brilliant, I had to look twice thinking I must have imagined it the first time.

Costume. The Phantom as always in his theatrical attire, I could imagine him in nothing else, but thought it rather odd for the weather of Coney Island. Americans were, at the time wearing similar clothes, but in lighter shades. The costumes worn briefly by Meg in the beach scene were spectacular, it wasn't till the third or forth change that I realized how it was done. Brilliant. Shame I couldn't stand the American accent, but I am sure others won’t have that issue. Christine’s dress in her major performance was absolutely stunning, it reflected so well that it glimmered around the entire audience; yes the glimmer even blinded those seated in the gods. Gustave, Christine’s son, wore the same outfit the entire time. At one point he took his jacket off and remained without it for the remainder of the musical. Madame Giry's outfit looked as dismal as it did in 'Phantom', but this felt rather apt for her. Raoul wore a white suit for all but his final scene, which was set at the opera so naturally he would switch to black. No problems there.

The story. A lot of the time is spent unfolding the back-story, it is rather obvious that Gustav is the Phantoms son. This I find tacky. It is a tale that has been done to death. From, 'The Count of Monte Cristo', to 'Starwars'. It seems to be older than a dead metaphor now.
The Phantom we see much more of this time, part of the magic is in the mystery I'm afraid, and that is lost by revealing too much of him. His homicidal tendencies seem to have been completely forgotten by everyone. And in the end we find him as the voice of reason trying to talk Meg out of killing herself. It is out of character.
Raoul's character has been dragged through the mud, he is now a penniless gambler that shows little to no affection for Christine and what he thinks is his son. I am aware that people change over time, but both Raoul and Christine seem to have gone from one extreme to the other. It just doesn't seem accurate. It feels as if the Phantom wrote the musical and he is telling you what he would have liked to have happen, because it just doesn't feel like an accurate portrayal.
Given the back story Christine’s initial reaction to the Phantoms appearance make sense, although we are not aware of the back story at that point so it seems wrong, but then again, so does the back story.
Raoul and the Phantom make a bet as to whom will get Christine, she is never told of this bet, and never actually gets to choose either as she dies in the final scene. So it all seems rather pointless. It is also quite sad.
The character of Madame Giry has had a full role reversal. In 'Phantom', she instigated the goings on of the Phantom and Christine, she was the only one who could have stoped it and yet she watched and did nothing. My original assumption of her logic was this, better he go after Christine than my daughter Meg. However 'LND' shows her and Meg smuggling the Phantom out of Paris and supporting him in his new rise to stardom. Giry seems eager to have the two join, as does Meg, but that is similar to Meg in 'Phantom', so we wont go into it, suffice to say that Meg's character was the only one that ran true. How can Madame Giry be so opposed to something in 'Phantom', and yet so willing for it in ‘LND’? I just don't understand.


Do not misunderstand me, I did enjoy the musical, I just don't believe it should have been a sequel. Give the characters new names and let it stand-alone, it has enough back-story in it to do so. Sadly as a sequel it was missing. Missing the heart, the passion and soul of what it could have been.

The Phantom sang it best at the end of the original, 'It's over now, the music of the night'. If only Andrew Loyd Webber had listened.

Monday, May 02, 2011

For him.

His are the only words I hear
His are the only eyes I see
His tears are also cried by me
His is the only joy I feel
He is the only one with whom I'd want to be
I give my heart and soul to the.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Words run dry as I hear the music die
Once so strong and vibrant
Now gone with nothing but a sigh
Water drips, instruments play
but still the world is quiet
I cannot even bring myself to sing
Nothing breaks the silence.
They say it's my imagination,
But I have not lied
Tell me this;
If music is the soul of life
What happens once it has died?