The Final Blogdown

Okay, so this is not going to be my final blog, but it will be the only one for some while, so unless something big is coming up, don't expect any more postings. We only got one piece of writing done this week, we spent to much time talking and we did do another piece except it's for this library competition on Paraxis.org. And it was not finished so, eh.

        He was a lot bigger in person

Pino stared at the boy, sure he wasn't exactly tall, 5 foot single digits something, but he wasn't short either. Pino was expecting five foot at tops, stupid lying prince.

" How d'you do squira." Asked Pino, the young man looked across the counter ans fidgeted with various gidgets and gadgets for sevral seconds, trying to build suspense,

"I want something very, specfic, from you." Stated the young man, his voice as cold as ice,

"Pinochino's cana get, or make, anything of gadgeteering and small scale engineering industry, so what do you wan'?" Inquired Pino, the young man turned to stare at  him,

"Information" he said, his cold attitude of his demener literaly made his breath cloud up. " About Charming's Location." Pino gulped down his breath, this was going to be a bad day.

Very short, I know but hey that's the world. As I said I don't having anything foing on and the writing is on for a while, and I don't have ideas of what to write down here, so, oh wait. I advice on watching a tv show called The Cape, it's good old fashion crime fighting without any super powers, enjoy,

   the sad blogger,

              

                  I

Blogging time

Iowa, Iowa, Iowa! I don't know why I just wrote that, but hey! Who gives a fiddelers hair!? Not much happening this week, but Kinsale Artweek was on, *Sarcastic voice* YEAH!
Now, onto this weeks writings;
 This first one was based on a picture of sevral cassettes. Read this on Transformers to understand the story, a little.

Vant looked down at the cassettes.
" You think we should build our spy drones like cassettes?" He asked, Dr.Zog nodded.
"Small, but enough mass for a robot." He replied, with a sincerity that told Vant Zog wasn't joking.
" There is one major fault with your master plan," Commented Vant in a condisending tone, Zog put his head forward and smiled in underserved hope. " No-one has used a cassette for, oh, A Thousand Years!"
Zog pulled back in shock, awe, horror and an emotion that I can only describe as Cinnamon-like.
" But, But Sir!" He Stummered;
" I don't care for excuses! We have plans, so stop delaying them!" Roared Vant.
" But, this was in the original show. The one your plans are based on, they even made toys of the cassette-bots!" Zog replied in confusion, Vant was stunned for a second, and then started to laugh; Of Course! Why didn't I think of it before, TOYS!

The next one is a poem based on some non-sense words;
Red Sab-Dyte
A Forgottern lake,
A Mountain Lost,
In all the ages of man,
no battle is as famous, or as lost,
At the valley between the mountain of Sab
and the crystal lake Dyte,
lays a field cloaked in Veridian grass,
And that lone warrior
Said it's beauty was lost,
to waves of red,
and hills of the dead,
He was the last,
who gave the field's name,
Sab-Dyte,
And between that Lake and Mountain,
that battle has only one name,
Red Sab-Dyte.

This one was based when we where each given a piece of paper, and had to choose an object in the room, and write on the paper a question that object would ask if it could talk. We then folded the paper and handed it to the next person. They wrote the answer to their object's question on the paper and then handed it to the third person who wrote a poem based on the two now revealed lines, here's my poem:

Am I alive?
I'll never know for he's too far away and I have no legs,
And I cannot yell or whisper,
and he never comes here to listen,
or maybe he can't,
these chains bind me,
and I can't stop the rats,
only the heat of the furance will stop them,
as all to often I catch one,
and kill it,
and cook it,
Noble men would call it Savarery,
I call it survival,
But in the end why do I try,
I'll never be released from this pit,
and those who both could and would free me,
are either imprisoned or lost,
so if you read these lines,
never give up your hopes in this pit,
but never raise them either.

Not much going on really, I haven't gone to anything for K.A.W. except an ABBA tribute band, who sucked. The warm up band was far better, that band was called the popazettas or something,  but beware they are moe-town!
   The Old Boring one,
                       Me

Late, Again

Sorry this only came out on Monday, but My dad made us make concrete all day on Saturday, which has hell, and not fun at all, but here is my writings from last Saturday;
The first piece started with a single line;
"What's wrong with you" she asked, I stared back at her and turned off the lights in my eyes to give the impression of blinking.
" I could ask the same of you" I retorted she pulled back in shock. "you humans think that you only have the right to rule since this is your plaent so you rules. But what happens when you go elsewhere, hmph?" She was stunned at this statement and stumbled  in her words for an answer. "the simple fact is you humans would declare war, or genocide, or an alien holocaust, might in it's form, and might makes right." I continued.
"No, No we wouldn't" replied the blonde female human. "Thats what you would do. Thats what you're doing here!" Her voice was more raised in fury. " And now you've started to fight amongst yourselfs!"
"Now you're proclamation is wrong, Sentinal Prime isn't a Decepticon, just an ally of my father." She was clearly shocked at this, I gave a grin. " Oh, Oh yes, A Decepticon has a dad. Well get this missy, Megatron is my father just as the human male that spawned you is yours. But unlike you, I know when to sever connections. So until we meet again, remember this name, GALVATRON!"

The next one is particular type of character describing the room where out writing class is in. I got a young woman from an Amazonian tribe;
  The space was closed, and nothing was open, unlike home. The greens and browns of my homeland where replaced with white and beige and a brown more red then I was used to. Sevral branches ran across this space's canopy rather then the canopy growing forth from it. I could see sunshine through what seemed to be empty space, but were actual cold, solid air, it disturbed me not abit, but alot. but more light came from these gold encased orbs that were half-way between a star and the sun in their magnitude of light. No animals except a small black jaguar like creature walked in this space. A tree trunk emereaged at one corner and rose up in a gap in the canopy, with strange flat branches sticking out, almost inviting me to walk on them. sevral bushes like things clustered together, the outer ones reached upwards at one side and the central ones having no such growth. It was odd as the out ones in one group had hides like animals while the other group has no such foliage and looked like the insides of branches. This is truely strange realm.

The last piece is a person describing a movie they saw to a friend. The movie was Pan's Labarynth and the character is a Homeless Alcholic (read it out to get a better idea of how it is supposed to work);
 So I was *Hick* wandering these streets and then that gothe shel*Hick*ta, thought *glug,glug,glug* it would be nice to show is that movie, whatisi called, *hick*, oh yeah, Paens Lebreonth. *hick* what do ya' mean I pre-nincing it wrong, it toesn't matter, ya know 'hat I'm talking abouttt annie-why. You've gotta see it nate, your missing doubt *hick*glug,glug,glug*. It's set in World war 2 Spain and this little girl who's moving with 'er mum do their new hime withe the moutvers new 'usband. *hick* But I won't ruin the pot, but she meets this haun. *glug,glug,glug*. What do you mean what is a laun, it's a 'alf goat halv man naturn spirit-thang, *glug,glug,glug*. Annie-why need I regress, *hick*, this faun sends the little girl on free taskes to complete her dezintie, *hick*, I'm not 'elling you her dezindie, you have to watch the film to find our, so I won't tell you the turd task, *glug,glug,glug*, no it doesn't invoble s'it or skewers *hick*, but the virst task invovles getting magic 'olf bols inta toad *glug,glug,glug* what d'ya mean what's deir colour, I said it waz told, and *ugh(falls asleep)*


Hope you enjoyed those, not much going on (except concrete making) but I decided to give you guys a little treat; a report on the newest Transformers film, it is CRAP. It's got plot holes so big the whole cast can drive through them without any problems, and there where so many potential things they could have made the film great, like having it be seen through the eyes of a young decepticon, ( The first writing was based on that idea) or some other awesome idea. Also to much human action, Michael Bay must realise that Transformers is about giant robots, not humans.

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNN JJJJJJJJJJOOOOOOOOOOVVIIIIIIII

Sorry about that, it is however necessary, after all I went to the Bon Jovi concert on Thursday, which was possitivly awesome, but we had to wait two and a half hours between entrance and when Bon Jovi starting to sing. There where two bands before them however, Fallen Drakes and Vintage Trouble. The first was Okay and the second was far better, but not Bon Jovi good. Any way your not here to read about that, your here for my writing course work, I hope;
This first one is poem based on five words which I'll highlight, and underline, the in this Gold.

Upon the yonder hill,
what secrets of men lie hither,
too many questions unasked,
screams of the universe's smallest sliver,
the warts of the past,
the rose of scandel,
Things that matter and not,
all mixed together, like stew in a pot,
questions no-one knows for,
like do jellybeans have mind,
or rats their own language,
and can cats stand on two legs
if bacon is involved?
Maybe Yes, Maybe nay,
but hay?
who really gives a f***

This next one was inspired by a picture in a ladybird book for children. The picture of sevral Pylons streching into the forest and was in a book about England's electricty supply;

Pylon after pylon stretched through the forest for as far as any eye could see. Maxim smiled or grinned, he couldn't really tell. You know you have to know exactly what you do at every moment or when you do something big you'll coc-

  And then The Writer died. Ernest Bloodhound sighed, got out of his seat and walked to the desk infront of his. The Writer haid was slumped on the type writter, which churned out random letters before stopping at the end of a line, it was one of those old typewriters that you had to push a gizmo to go for the next line. Ernest sighed as he pulled out a flare gun and shot into the air. All the authors un the room turned to the centre, too The Writter's desk. After a second or so sevral detective and meds jumped down from the roof on their ropes and started their work. Ernest tried to remain calm, but The Writer, the government's greatest author dead. All the world's authors would be in shock. From the day they had finished their state essay they had been chosen to write novels, pamphlets, movie scripts and the like, whether government commission or of their own free subject choice. And The Writer was the best ever, and as No.1 he sat in the middle of Warehouse Alpha and now his love of writing and Lady-bird easy reading books had come to naught, how was modern ltrature going to be judged? On the guide lines of the writers before the modern empire! Ernest sincerly hope not.

The last two pieces are two hiakus that where supposed to be opposities of one another, based on frostbite and burns;

The Breath of Winter,
Oh be gone ye jaws of cold,
Leave me be frostbite

The Fires and Sun,
Unleash that horrific blight,
in burns of the skin.

   Hope you enjoyed those, and sorry about this being three days late but it was just that I kept losing my drafts of this blog and it is pissing me off, so I'll just write this off and finish.
 The Angry Blogger,
                 Me

For once on time

After the last two posts it's now nice to getting back to a regular deposition in timing of blogs. And I nearly missed this as my parents decided to dig a whole, great, effing great.
 Here is the writings, the first part is messing with syntax of the writing, or the order of the words, the sentences I messed up our the first three sentences;

The Bear Roared Loudly.

Jack subsequently died of freight and Charlie Green head exploded.

The night was Chilly and so was Hal.

Roared bear the loudly.

Fright of Charlie, head and Jack exploded? Green Subsequently.

Chilly so? The was and! Night was Hal.

  Was fright loudly, subsequently Hal! And head so night of roared? The green bear, Chilly the Jack was died exploded.

  Hal and fright was, Chilly so Exploded? Died of Jack loudly! Charlie Head so; green bear the, night.

This next one is a poem based on an item in the room, try and guess the item;

  I flare and die,

My job is simply to melt away,

I’m given a flaming heart,

So that they may see,

But I see those glass bulbs,

They shine, but not by some wicked flame,

Oh, what a sick life I’ve got,

If only I could scream, my spine is incinerated,

My flesh vaporised,

If I could only scream, there would be no poetry,

Or romance, or light in a powercut,

Only my scream as I’m burnt away,

To be the slave of flame,

A single flame, the single thing I know,

Who is likely to have a shorter life then me,

For I’m a voice bound in my own flesh,

Wax.

This third piece is an  deep detail of a character, it's a little odd, thats what it is;

A spidery frame, thin arms stretching forth from his t-shirt, which hung from his forth like a flag, he was just that much skin and bones. His Denims had thin legs but even those failed to exaggerate his features, for only his legs where skinnier then his main body. His feet where uncovered and scared from walking over stones, but their considerable length out did his legs which where short and squat compared to the rest of his lanky body. His face was continuing with the thin theme, and his moustache was twirled like that of a mad genius. His hair was short and only the strength of it’s red colour differentiated it from the cut of soldiers. His eyes where deep set and his nose long and extended, it’s hook extremely exaggerated. He had side burns which went to his chin, which was completely bold. His face was beset with wrinkles by the bucket load, and his teeth, well, they where perfect, all white and crisp, they looked more like pearls then teeth.

This final writing is we wrote one or two word on a piece of paper, hid the words and passed onto the next person. The Italics are mine, the bold is Ellen's and the normal is Virginia;

The Neon dream fly a yellow void.

The forgotten hot air balloon cooks a sleepy maze.

The blue tree wanders a translucent chair.

  Not much going on but the Leaving and Junior Cert have finished, so I won't get to paid for sitting on my ass anymore. But I just drew mazes, which are as hard as hell, MAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I've been watching a Youtube series called legend of Zelda Abridged by Adamwestslapdog, I give you a link to the first episode, here. Unfortuantly the sequal series was never continued, which sucks.Not much else going on but if anyone wants me to comment on something leave me a comment,

    the unemployed couch potato

 

One week no Blog

'Ello, 'Ello, sorry about no blog last saturday but I had no writing, also not much was happening. The only thing was that the Irish state exams started on Wednesday last week, and I've been sitting outside the test rooms to make sure no-one cheated in the corridors, which if I had not been writing my first novel, I would have gone mad. The novel will be called The Silver Viper and will be a (sorta) Science-fantasy, and I'm not going to be putting up any of it so you'll have to wait for it, but I'm also not sure about how book copyrights work, so I'm not risking anything, I'm really sorry! But enough chit-chat,  time for this week's writing;

       This first one is speed writing with the title of DEATH OF THE CLOWN;
The circus was burning down, and Mr.Bam-Boom-Boom grinned an evil grin. All the little children would cry and ask questions, the animals would run wild and maul people, the midget would be crushed and that one clown would have his face melted as his wig burned, oh yes, sweat vengeance, sweat, sweat vengeance. He has now paid for that malicous act, and Mr.Bam-boom-boom would be freed from that one memory, he just had to do an evil laugh.
      Dr.Elk stared into the padded room as the patient laughed madly. Poor case, a child genius traumatised by a clown, a jar of high quality pickles, sevral carrots and three hundred issues of the Empire magazine and now has lived for three years inside the Asylum, unaware of the world around him and stuck in some sort of dream.. If it had been thirty years Dr.Elk would have 'removed' him, a waste of space, life and resources.

This next one was inspired by a map of Oxford done in Ye Olde Style:
   Caydis looked at the public map on the outside wall of the tavern. He was amazed how all the temples, Villas and colleges where scattered over the back of the islands of Calicon. Calicon was a city built on a archipelago between the sea and the great Lagoon of Eaan, and streched between two pincers of land that seperated the lake and the ocean. Only the palace and  the Senate where not in the posh area, but on one of the pincers of land. Caydos touched the map with a finger and the area he touched enlarged and showed the street in greater detail. By a building marked South Western Tram Station was a smaller building simply called Guild-House 'Iron-Angels'. He touched a small button on the bottum left corner which changed the map from streets too the layout of the tram line. Which he studied and smiled, like the guide said; Bosan port row had a tram to the Soutn Western tram station, but where was this stop? Caydis turned to face down the street and see four post with clocks not alligned to the proper time, that must be it.

    This one was inspired by a picture of a disected worm;
The worm was hungry, it's jaws gnashed themselves, he had never had a set of jaws before, but then again, he had never thought of anything before. His primative and primal mind was content with just eating and digging, but no more. Not since that voice had changed him, that sweet soft femine voice, with only the very slight undercurrent of an undertone of the most diluted form of the weakess anger ever to exist. He was changed, now he had scales, and jaws, and claws, and fangs, and horns, and a tongue, and a brutal intelligence, an itelligence with one food source, one duty, humanity. The voice had told him the world had suffered by their wicked, greedy and unrelenting hand, and now they must, DIE! It saide their meat was a sweat as compost but he didn't care, no longer a mortal beast, he had a new, unsatified craving, one all consuming hunger of a desire, the screams of man-kind.

This one is a mutliple person piece, my line is normal, Virginia is bold and Ellen is italic;
   The sun was shinning, today would be perfect for a good day for eating Ice-Cream, which is why he ate Fondu. It was so sweet, he thought he was going to melt like candy-flan. The Sweet goodness seeping into the open wounds on his lips mage him laugh in delight.

 Who enjoyed those? Well your kinda of sick if you do, or I'm deluded about humanity. But not much going on but I got my test results, all A's except for Irish and English, I'm awful at Irish anyway, so you might ask why I didn't do well in English, I'll tell you. Not to be insulting to my English Teachers, but the english course is like a lobotomy with club. It's not good for the creative world, also it's killing of the poetry business, and it has no real purpose, but I think it should be focused on Journalism or Report writing, honestly it would be better as people would be getting marks for a skill they'll need in their lives. The only other thing I've been doing is playing a video game called Spectrobes Through The Portals, does anyone else play it?
    The Dark Turnip Eater,
                             Me
              

I am really, really, really, really sorry about being late, again.

Sorry everybody that I'm late with this blog post but, I got hold up on Saturday with some stuff and I don't go on computers on Sunday, partly as a break from the computer, but also to keep the Lord's day holy. YES, I'm religous, get over it.

           Kinsale has a poetry night every first friday of the month in the Kinsale Book Shop and I went their for the first time last week, which was fun(nish). Here are two poems I put forward last friday:

Bitter-Sweet Liberty

Liberty is an honour

Not a taste most are allowed to enjoyed,

And now summer is here,

But I cannot shed even one tear,

For we are free,

But only from freedom,

As summer has risen,

And the testes are gone,

But I’m still alone,

And only a distant memory of a forgotten shadow

Omnipotent Flame

Rising above us all,

Staring it above us on a thrown most tall,

This judge of god, wraith of summer,

Which melts our mind till we are dummer,

Who burns us in a wave of heat,

But gives of the light to ripen the wheat,

Who are we to judge that star?

He is immortal, We are mortal,

Doomed and damned and cursed and vile,

So who are we to judge the Judge of God?

So what do you all think of those two little poems? I'll now put up the stuff from my regular Saturday writing course, both are stream of consciousness style of writing. Basically the internal monologue of JD from Scrubs but writen not a voice over.

Scott watched the fire ball in his hand.
 How I love the dance of Flames, like a hundred people dancing to the music in a disco. How I miss Charlseton's dancin'-'all, it's blaring light, the glory of the DJ box, and how easy the girls fell for me.
Scott sighed his thoughts and threw the fireball at the carriage side making it disapate into smoke.
 I miss home, but I can't go back, it's just ruins now, burnt by my hand. Argh, I never asked for this, not now, not ever. The fire in my hear burns a hole into reality, and sure I've got superpowers, but 40, I won't live long enough to do anything. I'll just be an old withered man ready to die on some street, and I'll won't get any support for my life from government. I must find those shards, I've got two already.
Scott looked at his hand as it imergedfrom his pocket.
They're beautiful, like glowing rubies, but wait why isn't that part glowing? Ah shit, they've cut me again! I'll need a bag for them, or I'll bleed for the fire wing. How I hate my existance, orphaned, cursed, hunted and now cutted. How much worse can it be? Some alien abmomination jumping down from the ceiling and ripping open my guts and eat my liver? I've already had to deal with super natural horrors, why not Sci-Fi? Well at least the walls of this carriage would be painted a nicer colour then grey of teacher. Now if only had some spray cans, Ha!

That was based on novel idea I've got, which I'm starting to think I should write it like that, I would be interesting. The next peice is just some set alone writing, but it's got a hyperlink, so enjoy the video on Cracked!

Craig spat into the chocolate vat.
Why did I do that? It's a cruel expiriment, horrible and no-one will probally notice. It' not like the spitle will survive, the chocolate would be as smooth as ever, as sweet and true. My I'm evil, but they deserve it, I've my whole life for a higher quality of chocolate, and they just scoff it down like the cheap stuff. It's not that I hate the cheap stuff, I just despise the habit it creates, no appriantion of their chocolate anymore and they keep on treating it as the low quality junk, so they deserve what they get. The cheap chocolate us like the stabilizers on a bike to help support the child in their first few cycling trips, not give them bad eating habits when it comes to chocolate. It's to get them hooked to chocolate, Oh wait, that makes chocolate sound like a drug. Should stop watching Cracked videos in how cereal mascots are drug pushers of the cereal, stupidly brilliant Cracked!

I like Cracked, it show you all sort of fun facts like; how to prove if a real man is also crazy, Ten plants that are absolutly insane, the vehicles of real (insane) animals, and six things science can't explain! So now you can reach true (*cough**Cough*) Enlightenment. Also they have classic photoplasty competition's which rock like crazy. I hope you will also enjoy this stimulating critque of modern life that is http://www.cracked.com/, and yes I did just hyperlink it again to emphises my point!

 Last week I had my summer testes and for some reason I just did squat awful;
AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But at least I got holidays, YEAH! But then I had an accident on Wednesday, to which I fell onto the ground and sevrely hurt my lower back ( back, not botox before you say anything.) And I was in cripping pain for the rest of the week, more, well, um;
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Also sneasing hurts as it force me crumple my body ans cause excutiating pain,
  The painful one,
                Me, Myself, and an eye!