WriteMare Before Xmas: No More

It’s over!
Your email boxes or strained eyes are safe for now. You will receive less from me in the future. Hopefully once or twice a week, so lots less for you to delete.

Strangely the month has been extremely busy and stressful blog aside so it’s been a break for me to write everyday and let off some steam. I hope you dear reader have enjoyed some of the pieces, not all because that is greedy and looking back even I don’t like everything!!

Big props to my Bro Resident Weeble... Oops sorry forgot I was white and middle class for a minute there… think Waitrose… Waitrose and Assam Tea. I’ve enjoyed writing in partnership with the Resident Weeble and reading his pieces for the month, I think we bring out the best in each other creatively and I hope to work on further projects (we even have a play to finish) I encourage you to check out his blog and subscribe if you haven’t yet to fill your email box with some genuinely original fictional pieces, well thought out opinion and information on his on going quest to find the ultimate movie.

Thanks also goes to the owners of Chili and Ziggy and the Piece of Pandemonium who have been supportive friends and readers throughout. That is of course not forgetting my “followers” new and old and indeed anyone who has even read a single word that I’ve written. Means a lot.

Until December.. Geronimo.. enjoy something unrelated but cool… The John Lewis Christmas Ad… embrace the middle classness like never before.

 

WriteMare Before Xmas: No More

(WMB4X) Happy Australia Day

Hello Aussie followers, I know it’s not Australia Day, I hope you have a good one whenever it is. In America today it is Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving whereupon there are crazy sales, turkey hangovers and virgin sacrifices. (Maybe)

Black Friday has it’s origins in the US fiscal system, some say it refers to a stock market crash, others say the term originated in it’s current meaning in Philadelphia describing the mixed traffic queues of sports fans and shoppers in the early 60’s. Black Friday didn’t spread across America until the early 90’s but now it’s here and widespread to the UK largely thanks to US based retailers Amazon, Apple and Asda (Walmart) to name but a few.

Black Friday has precisely the square route of fuck all to do with British culture or consumerism, being as it is ‘as American as apple pie’. Don’t get me wrong I love a deal and I have no problems with crazzzyeee discounts but to call it Black Friday makes no sense. Why not call it a ‘Sale’ or a “Christmas Sale” or “Happy Shop and Masturbate over the low prices Friday” all these names make more sense.

I received this email today.

Screen Shot 2013-11-29 at 22.38.43

I ordered something from BHS once in 2007. Anyone know what BHS stands for? British Home Stores. British Home Stores are having a Black Friday sale. Why? If you enquire about the colour of a jumper in said sale would you have to ask thusly “Hi, What color does the sweater come in?”

I know it’s all a gimmick, to give businesses a boost in the run up to Christmas and to make shoppers think they are getting a good deal when actually, hysteria aside it probably isn’t. We seem to be careering towards becoming the 51st state very quickly, Trick or Treat, Monday Night Football, Fox and now Black Friday. I have nothing against folks from across the pond, one of the things I like the most is the differences between us which amuse me greatly. These differences seem to be ebbing away.

Black Friday, as relevant to Britain as Australia Day or Nelson Mandela day. If we are gonna have it can we at least have the time off work and the deep fried Turkey feast the day before. And if we are sharing traditions, on Black Friday Americans can ditch the pancakes for Breakfast in favour of a Full English with Black pudding or at least learn what “Bollocks” are.


Please visit the Resident Weeble who has a national holiday in his honour in July

(WMB4X) Happy Australia Day

(WMB4X) The Dangers of Writing

I have successfully tossed out some old piece of something which you, dear reader, have been kind enough to read for the past few weeks. Don’t worry the month is nearly up! But blogging/writing is a dangerous business. Here’s why!

  1. On odd occasion I like to go old school and write. Actually write with pen and paper. It makes me feel more alive, more inspired, more pretentious. So two paper related dangers to begin. Paper cuts and poking yourself in the eye with either paper or pen. Writing happily then the paper cut. Hurts more than writing a bad sentence. On rare occasions it may even bleed making those murder mysteries more authentic. The poke in the eye can also occur, often when pondering a stories climax. At your most concentrated then, blinded.
  2. Alcohol. You are a writer. Everyone expects you to be pissed. There is however huge temptation to drink in order to to find inspiration. Whilst there are exceptions (Stephen King has books he can’t even remember as he was so drunk) almost always everything drunken you writes will be shit, leading to re-writes in the sober light of day. Often nursing the wonder excuse for not writing, the hangover.
  3. Boring others. You write, big whoop. Generally unless you are JK Rowling no-one gives a shit. However in the world in which you live, your project, your blog, your novel is your world. It fills your life. However your nearest and dearest could well be bored shitless by the plight of your protagonist. Something to bear in mind whilst down the pub.
  4. Technical issues. The creative wind is blowing in your sails, you have the idea of a lifetime. It is now that your pen runs dry or your computer crashes losing your idea forever. Thanks a bunch. You will care not a jot that Word has encountered a unexpected error.
  5. Distractions. Unless you are old schooling it up armed with your eye removing biro, you probably write on something that has access to your twitter feed or porn or LOL Cats. The distraction is very dangerous because it stops your flow and makes what you write when you return make no sense. Armadillos…
  6. Disappearing up your own arse. You are a writer, an artist, a visionary, a moulder of hearts and minds. With your pen or trusty laptop you can change the world forever. At least you could if you weren’t in your pants at 11:30am having not written anything and only just worked out how to get the lid off the marmalade. Yet you may fall into the trap of loving yourself, no not like that. You write, you are king. The postman is beneath you, as are your friends. You are a god in your own pants. You will never write any believable characters.
  7. Writing advice lists. You will write on the dangers of being a writer, ending with the last danger being writing lists, thinking how wonderfully droll you are being. You will end the list with a undeserved sense of wellbeing almost stopping mid.


Go and visit a man with a thirst for danger the Resident Weeble

(WMB4X) The Dangers of Writing

(WMB4X) Fiction: The Speech

Debconf5 lecture

It’s a mad world, there are no rules for success despite the multitude of handbooks. One wrong move and you are toast. Invest in the wrong areas or get the wrong people involved and you may as well pack up and go home. It’s hard work, but worthwhile.

It’s all about investing in the future, that is everything. The same in this and any other aspect of life I suppose. Thats not to say if you invest correctly the future will play out the way you planned chances are it won’t, also don’t do this and expect to get any thanks. Not verbally anyway. I’ve been doing this some time now and things have got to the point where everything is expected. Thats progress, moving forward like the sands of time.

In the infancy it was different, but things can’t stay that way forever. It wouldn’t be good for anyone concerned. Besides as time passes you get opportunities to explore new things, more ways to fall flat on your face half the time. You will make mistakes, of that there is no doubt. These mistakes will feel like no mistake you ever made before. You will impact the lives of others outside of your group, sometimes for better, often for the worse. At the end of the day you will just hope no-one dies… And you fools think I say that in jest. You wait.

The man you see before you now wasn’t always alone. In the beginning I had a partner. We made the choices together, united and strong. Investing passionately in our mutual concern, however by year three we couldn’t see eye to eye. So we split in the hope that what we created together could remain strong. It’s touch and go at times as I now find myself observing from afar. We still go to market these days, but not with the strong unit we once had.

They don’t tell you at school how to do this. Not adequately anyway. This work will consume you, often without you being aware of it. You will lose a part of yourself to it, but gain so very much. You learn so many lessons from the very beginning and you never ever stop. Although I’m talking at you today, don’t pay too much attention to others. What’s right for me maybe wrong for you. Invest that time wisely, especially at the beginning. Don’t let your baby try to face that mad world alone.

I am not a success. Despite standing tall before you today. I lurch from one failure to the next in the hope that things don’t meltdown. I attempt to do everything with love and respect but sometimes fail at both. I’m an investor of many things, yet I am no business leader.

I am a parent.


Visit the Resident Weeble…. He’s the daddy

(WMB4X) Fiction: The Speech

(WMB4X) Poem in the Key of Arrgh

Where oh where are my damn keys,
I really need them see,
Have they fallen under the fridge again.
Where can those bastards be?

How can they go astray,
They are less mobile than me,
It’s not like they have gone rock climbing,
Where can those bastards be?

The door is locked I can’t get out,
They have made a prisoner of me,
Am I here whilst they are partying,
Where can those bastards be?

I’ve turned my house upside down,
I have a door but I can’t unlock it,
Now it looks like I’ve been robbed,
Oh, the fuckers are in my pocket.

R101CrewKeys


Find the Key to the universe at the Resident Weebles blog

(WMB4X) Poem in the Key of Arrgh

(WMB4X) The Day of the Doctor

50 years of The Doctor. How the hell do you begin to write anything about that? For once I’m pleased I’m not Steven Moffat. Matt Smith, David Tennant, John Hurt and Billie Piper amongst others a stellar cast. I loved it, absolutely. I’m going to try not to spoil it for anyone who didn’t see it. (Like my blog will be the only place that mentions this) I will mention a few things though.

So many times do you wait for something that has a great fanfare beforehand only to find it doesn’t live up to it? This wasn’t one of those times. This was the TV event of the year if not the century. Surprises at every turn, humour and even rewards for the oldest fans of the show. Also the beauty of a time travel show means you can travel back and “put right what once went wrong” but enough about Quantum Leap.

One of the things I hated about Russell T Davies last ever episode with David Tennant is that Tennants Doctor says “I don’t want to go.” just before he regenerates. This is been a huge annoyance of mine because the Doctors regeneration is not him ‘going’ anywhere. Steven Moffat obviously was annoyed by this too. So he only bloody well went and fixed it. This alone would have made my night but wait there is plenty more.

Billie Piper (Rose Tyler) was criticised on her return to the show in 2010 after a two year absence as Rose’s voice had dramatically changed. Billie said that she had forgotten how Rose was supposed to sound. Cosmetic dental work aside of course. The vocal change did distract somewhat. So I have to admit I was worried about Rose Tylers return. Moffat brilliantly fixed this too.

I have spoken before about Matt Smith’s great ability to play a character much older and more world weary than himself. John Hurt managed to play a younger Doctor superbly, as you knew he would. Brilliantly acted, brilliantly casted.

I’d be a rubbish TV critic. This is a bit of non piece for which I make no apologies. I just didn’t think this would be quite so damn good.

So fifty years for the Doctor. 200 blog pieces for me. Not quite as impressive but a very fortuitous bit of timey wimey.

Dr Who (316350537)


Visit the Resident Weeble. He’s on his fifth regeneration.

(WMB4X) The Day of the Doctor

(WMB4X) Nightmare is Xmas

There were so many things I could have written about for today’s WriteMare Before Xmas (WMB4X) piece. Kennedy, the fact that it’s International Disabled Persons day to name but two. But as I sit here now, not in the greatest of moods. I figured I’d use my melancholy.

I am aware lots of people hate Christmas. Lots of folks really love it too.

Guess which camp I fall in. Yep no surprises. So why am I writing this piece in November, well if shops can have Christmas stock in place by September I can write about Christmas whenever I damn well choose. The shops is a good enough place to start too. I am a single guy, I do my own shopping. Sometimes all I pop in for is a pint of milk, in early September I have to turn into some tinsel hoping, mince pie dodging hurdler just to get a pint of the white stuff. Why? Christmas point of sale displays popping up more often than the penis of an average teenager who is thinking.. about anything.

I wouldn’t mind if it was good stuff either. It’s all tat, overpriced overdraft inducing tat that everyone is guilt tripped into buying.

My house is a Christmas free zone. At least it is until I turn on my TV. Specials from Christmas past, present and future. I know it’s Christmas, I’m trying to avoid it thanks, additionally I know you filmed this in 25 degree heat in the summer in the Kent Countryside, so fuck off, get off my TV and stick your fake snow up your arse. Only safe haven is On-demand.

Work. I hate my job, I hate it at Christmas, pressured into parties with people you want to kill because “it’s Christmas” Also there is the actual work too. No-one does anything, which I have no problem with. However I have to report on people doing nothing by producing stats which people don’t read usually let alone near Christmas. So I have to cover people on leave and produce my normal level of work. Hardly comfort and joy.

Beer. I like a nice pint of real ale in a nice country pub. However around Christmas any pub that is any good is packed to the rafters. Full of occasional drinkers on “house white” or “do you do mulled wine?” again because it’s Christmas. Result being nowhere to sit, meaning no beer for me.

Family. I love my family and extended family which includes my friends. But, no family is perfect, so any fuck ups you have made in the last 20 years, which can be managed or swept under the carpet always rears it’s head at Christmas. Even if it’s nothing serious for you (lucky) there will probably be some git who doesn’t like their present. You spend december walking on egg shells probably for something you can’t even remember. You can’t tell them to fuck off either. Because it’s Christmas.

Christmas blog articles. People with no original ideas writing about Christmas like it’s something special even as early as November….

Jacktapeta


Visit the blog of the Resident Weeble. Send him a Christmas card. I won’t be.

(WMB4X) Nightmare is Xmas