Poetry Infatuation

* Portfolio From Last Semester *

2009-09-18T15:00:00.004+01:00

The Length of Love

Warm greetings, neat house,
colourful windmill in a pot-plant by the door,
children’s paddling pool, half-full.
Three sets of shoes by a welcome mat,
swing-seat on an American style porch
tantalisingly ominous,
like the friend who always egged you on
to eat the worm experiment.

Warm smiles, gestures,
smells like baby rice and flowers,
Rusk crumbled on a kitchen floor.
Snack. Coffee. Conversation.

A baby monitor turned on, silent.
She tells her man to bring the baby down.
There is a creaking,
bumping,
he hums quietly to her.

His noise fills the kitchen,
joining homely, satiating smells,
the relaxing whirring of some machine
in another room.
My cousin is cradled in her arms,
oddly distorted mouth,
ugly face,
unreal.

I cannot understand,
smile warmly all the same.
My cousin with her happy face
lies, inanimate.
She will not grow or change
or die. In twenty years of my own life,
her absent breath, her foot-and-a-half long
body will still be here.

I stare,
she stares back.

Do Fish Dream Of Scaly Sheep

The creature is staring, eyes shimmering with reflections of light.
Danger! From out of my hiding place, blunt teeth bare at me.
A second creature, bigger, towers over the bowl as I swim.
The little one (a baby?) strains its arm to sprinkle in the food.

Cloonk.

OoooOaAauuuUUuoOooo.

I sink, plummet, spin off until I cannot move. The bowl shatters.
The world is closer. The smaller creature is leaning closer, reaching out.

‘MUMMYYY!!’

The creatures shriek reaches me, its sound penetrating my head.
In the midst of chaos and noise I, alone, am quiet. Detached.
I watch myself sink into a smaller bowl, a vibrant mesh of scales on clay.
Water rippling over me, I sink all the way to the ground.

Male Pride

With just a bit of extra care you’ll find
a man’s pride will enlarge to twice its size.
Some people say that pride can make you blind,
to waste your life away and fantasize.
A man’s pride can’t be tied or sacked or squashed,
re-sized to fit, chopped down a bit or lost,
it is a finite counterpart to life
and one which, when abused, will have its cost.

There is no prize for pride, no nice reward,
instead a stork will leave a little gift
- A fag burn on your pride - a rusty sword
- a present that will leave you sorely miffed.
Get out that greying cum-stained sock and pray
that not one little bastard will have stayed.

No Shoes in the Kingdom of Souls (or soles)

Where are you going?
Where are you going with no shoes?
I am going to find a friend.
going in circles - the wrong direction -
shivering on bare legs.
I am trying to keep walking,
keep upright.
I am a chilly bug in my
half-a-dress,
bear-hugging the wraparound words

‘Where are you going?
Where are you going with no shoes?’
Wandering through Liverpool town
steadily getting colder
feet getting wetter.
Picking up strange, obvious men
who ask me

‘Where are you going?
Where are you going with no shoes?’
Go home – get some sleep –
put some shoes on.
These strange men are no company,
in their flaking shadow of an existence.
I ask myself

‘Where are you going?
Where are you going with no shoes
no tights – no jumper
or coat?’
I am an icicle draped in skin.
The inside bites.
And keeps reciting

‘Where are you going?
Where are you going with no shoes?’
Drifting like morning before it paints the sky.
I am dark blue by black as the
not-so-silent night passes.

I am going.
I am going with no shoes.

Comment from Alicia Stubbersfield: You were a great asset in the workshop group, contributing thoughtfully and perceptively. your commentary reflects this thoughtfulness and the clear, imaginative way you approach your writing. The poems are varied, imaginative and show a range of poetric form + content. There is evidence of an individual voice and they are a delight to read.

Mark awarded: 75% (1st)

Comment from Janette Stowell: Mark agreed (I love these poems!)

I'm pretty happy with that outcome for my first year. You may agree... xx

* Scream *

2009-09-18T14:54:00.001+01:00

Scream at me,
just scream.
Scream as loudly as you can
at me,
for me.
So I can hear that scream
and know that scream
from other screams.
So scream the loudest scream you ever screamed
and stop.
And let me scream
at you.
My loudest, baddest, highest scream.
One constant haunting noise.

If we had no words to utter
in the silence of our lives.
No words to break the rhythm,
speak out, communicate.
That scream would be those words
we didn’t have.
All the things we couldn’t say.

So scream at me,
just scream
loud and,
high and,
let it last as long as your breath,
so I can hear that scream
from other screams,
your primal howl,
at me,
for me,
to know that sound
that cannot lie.
Wordless passion breaking through
for me to see.
I love you,

scream at me.

* My Ouchie *

2009-06-03T08:39:00.003+01:00

Oh how I hate Macdonalds coffee mugs :(

* It’s in the Beard *

2009-06-03T07:39:00.002+01:00

Dear Charles,
the brain needs a beard.
So you;
the best beard in the business,
can stroke while-you-think.
Stare, fascinated, at ladybird porn
and take notes.

It’s been two hundred years
since your life.
I cannot grow a beard like yours,
I’ve tried!
These beardless days are dark and dodoless;
filled with electric evolution
and prosthetic limbs.
Chainsaws closing in on forests.
Endangered species list evergreen,
flowering.

Others imitate your genius in vain,
stuff animals – observe their shape.
These copies do not know
it takes half a lifetime for a good beard to grow.

Not being Archimedes
you retained your dignity.
Not being Freud
you retained your sanity.
Not being Descartes
you grew a fine beard
that clung to you while
your faith slipped away.

Gods beard was far too pure to care.
It’s safe to say
you loved your fluffy facial hair.
Choosing to study finches
simply because
they found a nest in your beard,
lived there for years
as you stared down your crooked nose
into their home.

This poem is for a workshop I'm doing here in Liverpool - it is to do with Darwin 200 and combining it with performance poetry - this is one of the poems I will be performing in a group of people from 14 and older around Liverpool and once in London.

Im so excited! Its not until September for actual performances though xx

* The Munster In My Room *

2009-01-23T16:33:00.003Z

My room munster... I knew it was there and I found it!!!

Sexy, huh :P xx

* More Food And Gone-Off Potatoes *

2009-01-23T16:23:00.002Z

* Scissor Happy (Poem) *

2009-01-17T13:52:00.006Z

Their Shock
As I snicked off the first lock
I snapped their faces
Framed it.
Placed it on a mental mantlepiece
For fun.
Soon they would accept what I had done.
I care about the second glance,
The extra stare
And the anonymity of wacky hair
No questions asked.
Just faltering
The prejudicially raised half of a monobrow,
And walking past.
But in that single moment
That scissor happy shock
They looked - they saw me - and they forgot.

* Scissor Happy *

2009-01-15T03:29:00.004Z

I chopped off a lot of my hair today

It must be therapeutic... I wonder why I do it ...?

* Cooking, Cracking and Alcoholism *

2009-01-09T18:10:00.008Z

This is slowly turning into a cookery blog...

I have resolved to cook more meals and eat more healthy foods. I started with sausage and bean casserole on wednesday then had the rest for soup on thursday and cooked a nut roast (very very yummy) for me and my flatmate Katie (we are the only two back already) and then today I made the slightly less difficult sweet and sour quorn pieces and rice.

Oh it has been good. Though I then went on to make tablet... which turned in a kind of toffee tablet concoction. Yummy.

So yerse, I also bought the other day, a pomegranite, a bag of physalis and a coconut. Yes a coconut. We couldn't figure out how to open it... then we read the instructions but still didnt know. we cork screwed it, stabbed it, bashed it, hammered it with the pokey end of wooden spoons. In the end I decided to go slow and easy, making a hole big enough for it to get through. The 'milk' tasted absolutely disgusting. I do not say this lightly. Revolting.

The flesh inside was almost as bad. I wonder ifd there is a way of cooking it so the taste is minimised or sweetened... like coconut jam...

So yes. That is my news. I will leave you with a poem I wrote, which goes thus:

The Temptations of an Alcoholic

There it sat,The magniscient conglomeration
Of emotions,Perched on the periphery
Of a conscious barrier
A full glass – nymphet of a drink
Eden in a pint glass – tempting me.
It drank me,
But how could I renegue upon my good will…

So there it sits,
An empty glass.

xxx

* Poetry From My Course *

2008-12-09T16:59:00.003Z

The first poem I wrote when I got to liver pool was:

Obs+Dis #1

There’s a jaundice yellow wristband
Winking at me from across the room
As the windows glitter with light.
I sink slowly down in my chair,
The harsh, rough tug of old jeans
And tight constriction of a stiff, unwashed jumper

And as I sit here, nestled between
The nervous shuffle of legs and
The hum of engines outside.
I think of home; of jaundice yellow dresses
On burly men.

Even the water is straight.

There is an underlying unease in this room.
An inescapable tang of sweet perfume
Damp fingers, rubbery skin.
I like the view, the shadows
The distinct male voice from a distant room.
The bored glow of electric lights
Casting a shadow from my ring-binder.

Cant quite sit still.
I left my heart at home.

The next poem was one of our assignments about makeup - it could be any kind of makeup and I chose plastic surgery. It was written in response to a poem Roger McGough wrote called 'In Vain'.

Becoming

What beauty is there lain
In dormancy behind the bleach-blonde strands
Of damaged hair
What naturalty is left?
Are you as hollow as your ghastly mouth?
Or plastic as your gloss
And peeling tan?
‘Why do you donne that shade of red?’
The tortured locks scream on your head.
And in your skull where was a brain
Heat magazine will take the strain.
Your breasts enlarged to twice their size
Bewilder.
One nose enhanced to flesh on bone
To suit a botoxed face.

What beauty is there lain
In you who cannot find herself inside
You’ve had it nipped and tucked away
In shame.
(The memory was fat and lame).
There is no beauty left to purge.
The corners of your life converge,
The thinning of your soul is done
And finally you are
“Someone”.

For my Observation and Discovery module, we had to go on a residential to a house and grounds in wales caled Gregynogg - It was absolutely gorgeous out there, apart from being miles away from anybody else. The trip was to aid inspiration for our writing. Ironically, most people drank so much that they wrote less then they would normally. I ended up writing about the same amount.

The first piece was written from inside the wardrobe in our room.

Cubby Hole

My cubby hole that’s not a cubby hole
Lamp resting between my knee and the wall
Intrusive light overpowering the six dimensions
Three on three reflected one to the other.
Shadows broadly fallen to stumps of anti-light.
Awkwardly cramped in with a clustered happiness
Welling in my chest.
The light pervades my eyes and crowds the space
Takes every corner for itself
Save one near my bum where no glow can reach.
There is an earthy, grounded, satisfying feeling of this place
As though it has been through non-being
Hardly used over the time it was installed.
The new wood rubs like creaky paper on my thumb
Scratches indicate some better use.
The lamp emits a heat
Hot air filling city lungs
Not fresh from parks of wildebeest or horse manure
But clogged with saturated asthmatic barricades
Miasmic breath meets country mystique
And melds.
Sheep smell funny up close.

And lastly, my latest poem I wrote in class about my morning routine (not that i have a morning routine)

That Morning Feeling

Night lingers through the morning
Clinging onto its place in the world
Hiding between the cracks in curtains
And, like the chicken carcass on the table,
Finally gets discarded.
The blanket tries to be soft,
It fluffs out, rough to touch
Leaves detritus behind that look like pubes
Curled up, wiry and magpie black.
It is so old it almost creaks
Like a mangy dog nobody wants to stroke.
Unraveling.
Scrunched up it looks like a soft,
Harmless fabric organ.
Grab my fob key, bag, handle
Fling open the door, the desk smooth
As I wipe off the strands of black.
Handle, cold, imprints on my sleepy hand.
It’s nine thirty and I’m out the door,
Fingers sliding over each-other
From fat deposits.

* Food *

2008-12-08T15:18:00.008Z

Since living away from home, food has become very important to me. When starting out I would only get the nicest looking food and if it came with an offer then I would get more. As time went on, I relised that it was not al that important to have fish and nice meats and the best turkey slices and the fluffiest bread. I also realised that it really was not important to have eggs and cheese.

I have also realised that while food is essential to life, it is also a luxury and so when I started out, I bought at lest £50 of food a week and most of it was crap, like cheese strings and pizza and honey and butter. Today I went out and finished off my christmas shopping and bought a train ticket home so out of the £70 I had, there was about £10 left over. Because this has been the first time in three weeks where I had money for more than just 27p noodles and 13p swiss rolls, I was able to apprecitate the supermarket a lot more and to realise that my personal relationship with food was excessive and unhealthy. I looked at the aisles now in a different way and managed to buy a whole weeks worth of food for £8.50

so I went from this:

to this:

A healthy change in the run up to christmas...

yup....

I cant help thinking that my efforts are futile :P ~xx

* Based On True Events (The Evolution Of Horror) *

2008-11-12T14:16:00.003Z

Horror has now entered the realm of the ‘real’ - to truly scare us it must be plausible and based on true events. It started with the “Blair Witch Project”, where will it end?

It seems that we are no longer scared by rabid zombies, bloodthirsty vampires, werewolves or aliens, where only six years previously, the zombie evolved out of the slow paced heart feeding letches roaming the night and into the fast moving, viral attack on the world in “28 days later” and “I Am Legend”. Horror seems to have four main branches – psychological thriller horror (Silence Of The Lambs, Red Dragon), fantasy (30 Days Of Night, Underworld), comedy horror (Scary movie, Slither) and gore horror (Braindead, Chucky), most popular in the 80s and 90’s. But now with the recent boom of horror films about ‘true’ events, there is another branch to support ‘true horror’.

True horror ranges from the Blair Witch Project, where it was thought to be real and shot in a real way, to the “Exorcism of Emily Rose”, based on a court case in America but changed somewhat to suit Hollywood.

Such is the evolution of horror, changing more than any other genre to suit the needs of their audience. We cried out for gore fests, they gave us disgust, we asked for psychos they produced “Creep”, “The Ring” and “Saw”, now we scare only from that which could happen and recent films seem to be more of an endurance test than anything else – see how long you can go without looking away or being sick into your popcorn.

Horror has always been a favourite for sleepovers and Halloween, none more so then “the Exorcist”, though more for comedic value now.

Of course there is also an ongoing craze in horror to overstep the rating boundaries with films that are so hideous or vulgar that they are banned. Any banned film automatically receives all the attention and free advertising boom it needs to gain that ‘cool’ kind of notoriety. Once they are accepted, people love them because they “push the boundaries of morality”. They gain respect and cult status and although some of the films are pretty decent, many are regrettably average.

The evolution of the horror genre fits whatever phase society is going through at the time. Films get old quickly, change quickly, viewers move on quickly and minds have to adapt quickly. In order to scare, one must be aware.

* NaNoWriMo *

2008-11-02T15:40:00.002Z

I am taking part in nanowrimo this year along with the thousands of other people who have all signed up. their motto is quantity not quality and with just the 30 days of november to write your novel in, its no wonder they take this approach...

so far we are on the secong day and i have written, thus far (only really started today) 500 words... I must write a lot more than that in this challenge :P

www.nanowrimo.org

Me xx

* Ahh, Student Life *

2008-10-20T20:47:00.003+01:00

Yup, its my attempt at pancakes...

Or at least the first plate was. For pancakes I agree, I am no good at making them flat, but I am fabulous at making pancake blobs, if ever you need a pancake blob, I am available because mine are the bizzle! This plate was not realy an attempt, the little one was just me flipping it around in the pan so it was like a soft ball and the second was - 'I cant be bothered to even try'.

They did taste good though

Student food: Deliciously messy xx

* Consumed *

2008-10-13T18:55:00.003+01:00

* Chicken Egg Fun *

2008-10-01T18:55:00.006+01:00

I just like this toon :)

This is a piece of writing I did in class yesterday, I got the most random thing and had to write about it, so I did:

It’s a thing. More specifically it is a strange thing, a white, orange and black thing, a thing with two holes in it and the residue of a sticker on its rear. It needs a name. I think I will call it Mable, it looks female. Not overtly female perhaps, not a stereotypical femininity but a more internal one. Or rather it would be if it had an inside. I think this thing is female, but I may be wrong. It could be a man, though I see no signs of masculinity, just as I see no signs of femininity. I do not think it had a mother. Little Mable, she is two of my smallest fingers in height. The characteristics of a cartoon chicken stare blankly out from the upper end of an off-white egg-shape on ‘feet’. Mable looks like she should be attached to the end of a long stick and tied to a catapult. There is a concave way about her. She is bald. This cant be a good sign. Breast cancer? Or maybe she just felt like emasculating herself. I think I like her. She has some of my own qualities; pasty skin; big mouth; orange feet… Well okay not orange feet but I do have some very nice orange heels.

Mable has never walked. She is a plastic being. She has plod, pleyes and a plain and pleet and a great big plouth in the centre of her egg-shaped hody… That’s head/body to you who do not know about silimplifications. I think silimplifications are quite fitting in this scenario – Mable is a rather silly instrument. I wonder who made her, who thought her up. What transcendental idiot thought ‘I know, lets makea chicken egg bigmouthed holey stand thing’ and which company decided it was a good idea? As much as I like Mable, I hope that company has been liquidised and used as something useful – a new FOPP for instance. I could imagine Mable turning into a film star whose films end up on the shelves of the resurrected FOPPs whose name lives on forever. If only she was able to act. I have a feeling tht she would be a stiff actor, not a very varied range of expressions, see. I fear that this Mable, this lovely, simple, honest Mable will end up curling into a lump of blackened plastic at the bottom of a landfill site.

* The Splitting Of The Baobab *

2008-09-30T18:26:00.005+01:00

Three baobabs grow upon a world,
Abandoned, deserted,
Roots sunk right to its core.

This world is lost to their grasp
Soon it will not exist, but float as debris
Among the stars.

The baobab roots cut deep inside
They stretch out endless, tall and wide
No planet vast or small can hide…

just a little rhyme :) xx

* My Friend, The Abbey *

2008-09-30T18:21:00.001+01:00

It knows me, that hallowing bell
Runs life through stone
I sit in the chair, gesture
Talk to a face in the farthest corner
Whispers carried to the vicar
Stubbing candles.
I live in the fizzle of wick from oil filed sentiments
Prayer rack flickering for the hard shadows.

Back room faintly whispers
Black to black to purple scarf
She is a childhood friend who I still visit
When the holidays appear
I have missed her through the lonely
Discontinued bells of fakery
She calls like will-o-the-wind
A cal from the corseted wild
Perpetuating stone soul.
Ridge folding through the ceiling
Crumbling,
Shrinking from archaic lies.

* Just A Note *

2008-09-12T11:57:00.004+01:00

My mum got a note from my sister, Avila, who is soon to turn eight. On the front it said -

To mum,
love Av

She picked it up and thought 'how sweet, how lovely of avila to think of me' she grinned inside, smiled to herself and with an outward breath opened the note.

It was a birthday list.

* Breathless *

2008-09-10T00:01:00.005+01:00

Inside me is this sweeping, euphoric feeling
Of beauty in my heart.
It stands alone, untouched by some
Devastating metal hand.
Nature not receding from the road but arching
Over it, an angelic passage through the trees
I am delighted, swinging my feet.
I know what happens next.
I love the motion of my lolling seat,
Leaping shadows of the moonlight overhead
I watch with soft content.
For I am two months past three
And nothing bothers me.

Inside me is this current of nostalgic intimacy
Spinning through my mind.
This tunnel closed around me - an artery.
Revive that childhood vision of beauty
Still untouched by men in orange coats and hats,
No metallic churning of wood.
We are no longer similar.
The way is not the same as before
My legs do not dangle over a spacious rift
But rest on the floor. Grounded.
Shoved up against the sharp end of a bag.
I know what happens next, I am quietly excited
Bombing down that country road
Childhoods clammy hand clasped at my throat.

xx

* Self Storage *

2008-09-09T23:56:00.004+01:00

If I am outside but cannot stay
Then I will have to store myself away-
In a box, in a garage, in a whitewashed street,
Tucked out of sight from my head to my feet.
So even if you look at me,
Inside this box I cannot see-
Beyond this corrugated cardboard wall.
I am inside. My world is small.

xx

* Laxatives, The Secret Of Women *

2008-07-10T17:36:00.004+01:00

(The first of my "Lucy on -" series)

There are great numbers of extraordinary beauty products for women these days, each designed to feed off a womans need to prune and show off her beautiful feathers to surrounding chimps. Her eye catches hair removal crean, anti-wrinkle, anti-blemish but fall ever so completely on laxatives. The tragedy of the warming fat, the terrible curse of the larger woman goes into override. And there they are, half the world too fat, half the world too thin and redressing the balance is insufficient. To idolise a starving child is something only a mind as falliable, a place as disillusioned and a world as corrupt as a humans could bear to produce, let alone multiply.

And who could blame the human? Oh no! its the magazines, the television, as if the media is incontrolable and the people behind it are merely insignificant puppets who have no abilities and insufficient knowledge to break such a terrible spell.

* 20,000 words mark!! *

2008-07-04T22:06:00.014+01:00

So I've kindof realised this is in no way going to be spectacular, but all I want to do with this novel is figure out how to write a whole book. Then once I have written the whole book, completely finished it, then I will have a rather more clear idea of what has to be done, the difficulties with writing a whole novel. And then I would write another one and see if I can over-come these difficulties.

So far the problems I have had are:

I should have written an outline or a brief plan or at least known the direction I was going with it.
The sheer time needed to write it
The need to discipline myself and knowing how to do that without instruction from someone else
Being side tracked
Not writing for ages and forgetting what I had written.

I have three more ideas for novels, however, and one of them has a vague plan, the other two have detailed plans that accompany them so that should not be a problem in the future, however I do need to think about time and discipline - I'm terrible at sidestepping necessities.

Grr. Anyhow, yes, 20,000 words! (exactly)

Milestones:

01,000 (completed)
05,000 (completed)
10,000 (completed)
12,500 (completed)
20,000 (completed)
25,000
37,500
50,000

* Richard *

2008-06-30T20:54:00.007+01:00

R*I*C*H*A*R*D

Richard.
One great big personality
Smiles, oddities, imperfections,
But so very human.
Excited, bold, mesmerising,
Reclusive.

The last of the eccentrics
Waiting desperately for
His weekly bonfire night
Growing his beloved beans.
He should be buried right there,
In his vegetable patch.

If you remember his new shoes
Squeaking as he walked
Or the morning walk up
The drive to collect his paper
The faces he pulled,
The things he did.

If you remember his radio,
The large strange contraption
Strapped to his head each morning
To listen to eternal news
And play with his numerous
Dental implements.

The morning glass of fizzy orange
On a square of untouchable green,
His health food drinks, teas,
Taken like important medicines
The carrot juice alongside three boxes
Of double cream tiramisu.

If you remember his walks
Strangely educational as you
Jump your way into someone else’s field
And moo at their cows.
Discussing rare birds and
The recent news on habitats.

The CD of bird song worn down
Bird feed, ladybird house
Put on the big black boots
And who knows where we’ll go
Riding other peoples horses
Or watching for baby deer.

If you remember his study
The drapes of webs
The floor of debris and dust
Closeted in with thousands of figures
Occasionally emerging to grunt
Then go back in.

If you remember his last days
Staying true to the Richard we always knew
Wearing the oxygen mask as a hat
And trying to smile
Or mumbling about a scotch egg
At the dinner table.

We all know him in our own way
Struck by a moment in time
Pick your favourite memory
And smile at it, talk to it.
He is just that little bit
Unforgettable.

Thats really all I have to say on the matter - x

* BEARDS Night *

2008-06-28T01:03:00.005+01:00

I should start where I left off - my exams are over!!! Yay, I have written and modified about twenty poems since last friday, my sister looks like an alien and smells like sick (sorry Nelly but you do) my dad and caroline are tired recks, I got back from Brizzle on Wednesday and went almost straight to my leavers day, from then I took my well deserved £50 deposit and spent it on food, a birthday present and a new top. Then we proceeded to eat supper at Fat Leo's and went out clubbing (donning new top). Went to two clu8bs (incredibly managed to blag my way past two sets of bouncers - I love those guys - and drank well over 20 units and so was dead fun to drag home. lol. I danced for about 2 hours (an hour in each club) and mostly on my own :P so I was a drunk dork, dancing to her own music. Then walked home bare foot.

So needless to say the excessive inebriation was not too good a move the night before a reading... I slept for about 9 hours in total, picked the kids up from school and then drank a lot of orange juice and ate some strepsils (my throat had gone on holiday). Went out again then came back and ate just in time to walk (exhausted and sore footed) to the Jubilee Library and sit for an hour and a half listening to people read their coursework, which I'm sure was great, but after a while, the most interesting thing was the stand which was swaying on the podium. Then after watching Steff and Ellie go up, it was my turn. I went up with Emilja but Caitlin wasn't there so a different Lucy took her place and I was the first to read. For the first poem I said 'In this, I'm a man' and looked up in time to see Ellie giggling away in her seat. I read them out (according to everyone elce) really well and then won (I say won... really it was pot luck out of three) and took my prize... a nodding Bard imported from Seatle:

And a generous £30 of book vouchers to spend on more of them awesome poetry books I love so much - or perhaps to spend on next years reading list - get a head start... anyhows, so yeah, I'm happy - its one more thing to add to my great and wonderful already loaded (yeah right) CV :D

* Mouth to Mouth (review) *

2008-06-18T21:33:00.003+01:00

This film is based on an interesting idea which in the right hands could have been a wonderful film. Its an indie film, of course it is, but I have seen a good few indie films and this really hits rock with the director. I mean Alison Murray, I'm sure she knows a lot about being a teenage dropout but she doesn't know much about making a gripping film.

Its got some pretty good casting, about six of the people cast were okay actors and that includes Ellen Page, it didn't really push her the way a film and a good director should, as as we have all seen - she can do a lot better!

The film was shot as though Murray read about every effect you can do with a camera and thought - I'm gonna use them all! It went light for no reason, it didnt accentuate a feeling or to show an emotion, it wasnt intimate or innocent it just was and in my experience, ever shot should be justified, from the first to the very last.

The sound track was good, I'll give you that. And some of it was quite hard hitting, but I find it difficult to believe that I just watched a film where two people died in the course of an anarchist group trying to find freedom and I dont care about them. It wasnt believable, no grief, no dispair, no anguish. I wasn't reeled in, I didn't feel their pain and so I didn't believe in its reality.

It is that typical film made by someone who wants to tell their 'incredible story' and just got out of art school. It tries to fit too much in to the plot when a good film can focus on both plot and the dimension of the characters. The ending was excruciating and I cant believe I just spent £15 on this film.

* Top Ten *

2008-06-16T17:25:00.005+01:00

...Favourite films! Just thought I would share them with you all :D (I recently found the joy of pictures!)

1. Breakfast on Pluto - favourite film, has withstood the test of time and never fails to make me happy over and over again :)

2. Matrix (et al) - still astounding, the quality, the subject, fantastic film - I am part of the Matrix era, the children of matricity

3. Wings of Desire - Beautiful film which plays with colour and black and white and it’s funny and uplifting and lovely and very, very, favourably German!

4. The Crying Game - one of the great British films that evokes the rare pride in me that I am British!

5. Brokeback Mountain - stunning film both visually and with all their performances, touching subject, very moving.

6. The Garden - My favourite film by the man who has been dubbed the poet of the cinema, he captured my heart and I only wish I could have met him, he enthrals me with his visions of worlds and ideas - truly brilliant (very analytical)

7. Junebug - slow moving, political, feminist, historical, American, impoverish, funny and interesting tale simply of roots and identity.

8. On The Edge - for some reason, although it is not popular and certainly not well known or well loved, but represents the darker side of humanity. A film I truly love, but not particularly for cinematic viewing.

9. Pirates of the Caribbean (et al) - oh the Depp!

10. Arizona Dream - romantic and touching, wonderful rhythm to it, strange, fantastical and like a spike Milligan poem; amusing, but deeply disturbing.

how many have you heard of?
how many have you seen? ~x

* Of Mats And Rice *

2008-06-15T18:49:00.006+01:00

Revising is making me go a little crazy.

apparantly 95% of all animal experimentation is on mats, rice and pigments, but continuity is most apparant with privates... :S

But look - animal use in the usa is researched by Mukerjee... thats evolution is motion, that is! I love Darwin. Apologies to Mukerjee - it is rather a cool name.

Oh, but the best case study ever: - Dr. Quick, the diabetic went hyperglycimic and attacked a patient!

Ahh the fun you can have with the infamous mixture of sleep loss, stress induced mania and tea. ~x

* Louis Takes His First Step Towards His Dream Of Motherhood *

2008-06-13T01:45:00.005+01:00

My brother, 2 almost 3, decides to take his first steps as a modern woman and puts his child rearing interpersonal skills into practice - had to share this moment with you!

Louis and Alice have both grown up in as neutral an environment as possible, both play with dolls and cars and dinosaurs and both will hapilly have any colour, although Alice does prefer pink and wears a lot of pink clothes. There are also subtle differences too, which are interesting to watch, for instance, while Alice is the more dominant, Louis is the most physical. And while they both play with dolls - Alice will usually look after them and Louis will usually chuck them around.

However!

On the phone to my dad he told me that when Alice and Caroline and Fen were all out, Louis picked up a doll, lifted up his top and held the doll against his nipple saying 'want milk baby?' and then put it to sleep under a blanket.

Now tell me thats not the most adorable thing you've ever heard! And as mon papa rightly said - Louis is rather in touch with his feminine side - Please be gay, please be gay!

lol. is it weird to want my brother to be gay? ~x

* Genetics vs God (an explanation) *

2008-06-12T09:00:00.003+01:00

I think I meant to base this story on the failings of religion, particularly on Christianity, to discuss the dynamics of evolution, of the massive man steps and of God, of religion and how it never moves on, just stays in one place. I enjoy writing about topical issues and thought I would share this with you.

So I reckon I thought (while writing it) that the mum was a jehovas witness or strict Catholic and the children both had lukemia and therefore would be refused a bone marrow transplant to save them. The children are 14 or 15 and so still under her care. They are from the north, liverpool/leeds/yorkshire and the piece is best read with an accent.

Not written for any specific purposes and took me about half an hour to write and ten minutes to edit.

Leave a comment if you want to know anything else

Hope you enjoyed it :) x

* Genetics vs God (short story) *

2008-06-12T08:52:00.008+01:00

Genetics vs God

My brother and I, we’ve been trapped all our lives in this rift between science and God. Our mam says that those men running the hospitals need to realise that God has his own reasons why we are like we are. The doctors say it’s a simple genetic defect, that we was born funny and that we need to be set straight or we will surely die. I sometimes think they must be right or why would we be connected to so many machines, making us like robots, charged up, because we cannot cope without those machines. And our mam would let us die because of God. Why would God make us wrong, let us become like this.

I’ve seen the vicar, read the bible through and all they can tell me is sins and cleansing. What sins are these that are so bad as to debilitate us, cripple our bodies? If those doctors can save us, then they can do a better job than God. And so what if we are abridging the gap between the power of man and the power of God - isn’t that evolution? Life isn’t meant to stand still and gather dust, stagnating and choking in its own decaying sin. Shouldn’t it grow and evolve and change?

Mam says we should not be afraid for we would go to heaven and sit with God, take supper with him. Mourning the lives of the sad sinners down on Earth, but we have the right to protect our birthplace and save our loved ones.

My brother wants to save me and I want to save my brother, he understands me, understands how I feel because he feels the same.

And our mam, she cries for us and thinks we canny hear the tears banging on the ground like silent, heart-splitting drums. Her sorrow hits her so hard; sometimes I think she may forsake her God for us. She never does, but it remains the hope that keeps me going, the hope that she might love us more than him. But sometimes it’s the hope that pains me in the night, which courses through me, waiting for that call, the words to come out. Some nights it’s so unbearable I hardly sleep. I’ve heard her talking to the doctors when she thinks we sleep, talking about her husband, how he died. She describes how she wished that we had gone with him so she could mourn him. She fancies we were never meant to be, how we were wrong and she could see this wrongness in us and how it was because of her youthful passions. She fancies she was never meant to have children.

We live this clinical prison for too long, to pay for her mistakes, we live as God’s revenge to reprimand her for her lustful practices. That somehow having her husband die then spending half her lifetime devoted to the church was not enough. We, her wretched children had to die. Genetic defect. Genetic rejects.

My brother and I, we’ve been trapped all of our lives in this rift between science and God. Hell-bent children, waiting to be freed.

* BEARDS *

2008-06-11T14:14:00.006+01:00

The Best English Awards are approaching, for the 26th June and once again I am the only person nominated for an English award without actually studying English. This year, however, my mum has decided to grace us with her presence, so that makes it even better :)

My poems were chosen by Andy to show the variety of work I have been doing over the last year, but really, it doesn't come close. I have written short stories, 15,000 words of a novel and over forty poems... But you know - its all cool. Three poems to show off my ability. One is Post Wolfenden Euphoria 1967, which I posted in * Portfolio * and the other two are:

Flashbulb Memory

Your toys still scattered, strewn across a home
There are these stickers on a cupboard door.
Two small, blinded, windows set in stone
Some decomposing yellow rug was sore
On feet long gone, left home, grew up with time
But captured, on a lovers teeming brain,
Her first romance would always be sublime.
Remembering his stickers through her pain,
His arms were like two blinds covered in fur,
The yellow rug an image of his skin.
Those tiny details suspended for her,
A photograph she buried deep within.
And still the stickers on the cupboard door
Will lie here to remain forever more.

and

Eczema

Itchy scratchy
Scritchy scratchy
Itchy ouch-y
Blotchy skin-y

Nails scratching
Scritching gadgets
Cant stop thinking
Itchy magics!

Angry rashes
Itching flashes
Disturbed skin is
Scratch-o-tastic.

Hokay... yeah, so thats cool, just wanted to share it with you :) x

* Little Green Pig Perfrmance *

2008-06-11T13:01:00.005+01:00

Yesterday was the Little Green Pig performance night. It was a great night, Avila (my first sister, 7) kicked off the night with two of her poems she wrote in France. We performed our sisters poem to sporadic laughs and then my 'Balloon' poem, which is pretty much a poem for children.

Sisters

Being my sister’s sister
Ten years for a gap in between
One of us is seven
And one is seventeen
She likes making magic
She likes making toast
But we both like Harry Potter
And our Nanny’s Sunday roast.

Being my sister’s sister
We try to get along
But other sisters intervene
And then it all goes wrong.
We talk about Newton and Darwin
Monkeys and apples and stuff
Sit on the sofa discussing
Until we’ve had enough.

Being my sisters sister
Has its ups and downs
Its ins and outs
It’s smiles and frowns
Each a sixth of our family
Trying to say our bit
Sister of a sister
That’s it!

We wrote it together and practiced it at every opportunity. I think the performances went well and they were quite well recieved too, I kept getting people come up to me and tell me that they enjoyed the poem. I felt special :) lol.

It was a perfect length, with a really neat interval in between the two groups of children and Michael pointed out afterwards that it was far more interesting then some school night he had been to, like the dorothy stringer performances or childrens dance performances (not being interested in dance). And it was not too late - having young children in the audience. Also - great venue choice - my college. Well, only for twelve more days then nada... finito... off to uni :D

I thought I should post sope pictures of my new sister, so here they are.

My dad and brother with the new sprog:

Alice with her new sister:

:) ~~ x

* Birth Day *

2008-06-06T12:04:00.003+01:00

Just wanted to take this oppourtunity to welcome the little gremlin child of:

Fenella Rose McDonagh McClean

into the world and wish her luck with it. Fen was born in the early hours of twenty to seven this morning to the delight of her parents and to the horror of her siblings, Alice and Louis, when they realised she was actually out of the tummy (they're only 4 and 2).

Weird name, huh! And she was born in their living room - you know, I recon Caroline is getting more and more like my mother... Weirdo's, both of em.

So my new sister has been born and I cant see her until after my exams... unless I can persuade dad to let me go up if I do my work. Ahh well, she was not born on either my birthday or the 22nd of any month so she is an outcast in so many ways, but you know... I'm sure shes cute. Or maybe not. New born babies are always so fat and ugly and they cant see and they just spend all their time pooping and throwing up over your shoulder. Nice! Well I wish staz and caz luck with their third child under five - its going to be absolute hell for them, but its their problem now, isn't it.

Bah - gotta go work, aurevoir x

* Portfolio *

2008-05-30T11:53:00.007+01:00

So, I was thinking I would do a more serious post - I am leaving my beautiful home here in Brighton to go to Liverpool and study Creative Writing and Liverpool John Mores University. I'll be living with four strangers in a flat in a 'student village', which is exciting but also quite scary.

For my place at the university, I had to complete a portfolio of work, which is supposed to demontrate my ability in writing and the quality of writing I produce. It was exciting, and I'm going to mention now - of course they accepted me!

Task One - Monologue
Write a monologue to be spoken by one character, in any situation of your devising, on stage.
Length: Maximum 300 words.

Man stares into a mirror, he is home alone and devising a way to break up with his girlfriend.

“Jenny, I… Um, well I was thinking maybe we, if we could take - like - a break or something. Jenny, darling… No - sweetheart… I don’t think this, us, is working. No, too humble. (pause) - Jenny, I don’t think I can carry on in this relationship, it’s… Well it’s just not working. Scrap that. It’s just not going anywhere. Damn - (sigh) - come on man! it’s just a chick, yeah, just a chick like the rest of them. (pause) - Ok, right - go. Jenny, I can’t see you anymore. It’s not working, yeah, and don’t be all innocent, it’s you too… No, she’ll shout at me. (pause) - Again. Jenny, honey, I… can’t see you, I’m seeing someone else. - I have a fiancé, no, wife and… three children… they live in, um, New-Zealand. And your just a bit on the side. In fact, I slept with your best friend… your sister… No, brother. HA! Jenny, I slept with your mother, yeah, so, like… I don’t want to know you anymore - it’s just too weird. Ow, my eye. Okay - (rubs eyes) - No. Look, Jenny, I just don’t like you anymore, I cant, I just cant. Why is this so difficult? Okay - for real… For real for real, come on, okay - so:
“Jenny, I can’t see you anymore, it’s just… well, I’m not in love with you. Never was. Truth is, Jen, that you and me, we don’t suit each other. You’re a girl and I’m. Well… Well I’m not, quite. I’m not ready for commitment like this and I’m pretty sure you won’t be, cos the truth is… The truth is…
“I’m a eunuch.”

Task Two - Poetry
Write a poem on a subject and in the form of your own choice.
Length: Maximum twenty lines.

Post Wolfenden Euphoria 1967

That solemn day to mark a nation’s pride,
Meant that I did not have to pay a fine
For loving and adhering to his will
And to this unrelenting heart of mine.

We snatched a waltzing dance around the room,
Where yesterday we’d not have been so bold
And later, while out walking in the street,
I took my blushing partner’s hand to hold.

The government, it took a daring leap
Though some people seemed rather left behind.
I took a beating twice, outside our house
Bore it in scars, but kept my peace of mind.

The earth, eternal building site of life.
It won’t accept two people’s sounding voice.
Morality wiped clean our dirty slates
And gave to us the gift of sexual choice.

Task Three - Prose
Write a paragraph of prose fiction (maximum twelve lines) beginning with the sentence, 'He/She always had to be dressed this way'.
You are not expected to tell a story in such a short piece, but simply to give a 'taste' or snippet from a longer story, providing some situation which offers a context to the first sentence, in a way that will interest a reader.

Based on the picture

She always had to be dressed this way, right up until her death, a mere two weeks after this photo was taken. But the clothes were the most unremarkable thing about her. What puzzled most was her sadness, her sense of age beating through a face no more than twenty-five. Indeed, just standing there, one would be excused for thinking she was dead already. She kept company with a good mannered enthusiasm but never wavered from that haunting image in her head; an image that aged her so. Dwelt on the past, she became the past and soon became part of the house, collecting dust.
“Henry, darling, could you fetch me some water, I’m ever so thirsty.” I kissed her cheek tenderly and left for the water. I missed my wife, but I suppose she was lost with our first child.
When I returned, she was dead. Finally silent. Finally the physical semblance of what she had been dreaming of. That night, I wept alone.

Task Four - Language Exercise
A) Choose any English word that interests you.
B) State what it is that interests you about this word.
C) Find out all you can about this word and write a brief account of the history of this word and its use, or uses, in English.
Length: 150 words.

In the end, it was a toss-up between two words, but as all were expecting - ‘almost’ came in second. My word therefore, is ‘rambunctious’, not altogether used with any manner of frequency. The dictionary definition states: difficult to control/ boisterous/ exuberant. I find it to be the perfect word to describe my siblings in their collective form. From what I can find out about the word, it was coined during the nineteenth century from US English and widely acknowledged to have come from an alteration of rumbustious, and probably originating from ’robust’, but that cannot be factually confirmed. It has no roots in old English and it seems to have appeared mysteriously, alongside other now commonplace words such as ‘scallywag’ and ‘rip-roaring’. It is used mainly to describe out-of-control crowds or groups of people who are typically boisterous and unmanageable. But it is also a word whose use has diminished among young adults and youths.

Task Five - Statement
Write a brief statement explaining:
(a) why you are applying for this course; AND (b) what you have to offer fellow students.
Length: maximum of 250 words.

I aspire to be a professional writer. The earliest piece of my writing, a four-year-old’s poem about travelling, I salvaged from my mother a year ago but I only became serious about writing when I started attending a creative writing course at my college in September, 2006. Since then, I have had four poems published and was the only person nominated for an English award without studying English. Beyond that, I have only my love of writing. I feel that this degree will give me the tools I need to go out and achieve my goals. I am not a student who needs much to get me going - I will be as focused and imaginative in a blank room as I would be sitting inside a pyramid in Egypt.
I am a very prolific, enthusiastic writer and I would bring that enthusiasm and commitment to the course and my encouragement to fellow students. I have written stories and poems from loose and abstract writing to concise poetry such as sonnets and other closed verse. I am also able to engage in many different styles of writing and work well in a group environment. I enjoy giving others feedback and would happily contribute in that way as well.

Yep, so thats my thrilling portfolio - wish me luck for the future!

* Lets Get Ready To Rhumble *

2008-05-16T20:24:00.003+01:00

yeah... I just felt like reviving their hilarious music career :D

Does anyone else get the feeling that ant and dec are an item?

x

* I Feel The Need *

2008-05-08T23:16:00.002+01:00

...to tell you all about the most recent news with regards to my story - 11,060 words - round of applause?! lol

well I'm over the moon because the my first novella I wrote (the only novella I wrote) was only 7,500 ish words, and I have surpassed that, making this the single longest story I have ever written :D

yup...

I dont really have much elce to say, except occasional reported incidents of madness -

Ten reasons to live:

O I slung a banana skin at the bin and failed again
O There is something quite peculiar about drinking soup straight from the tin at the back of my sociology class
O The other day I soaked my jeans in my friends drinking water to stop my knees from burning
O The sun should die... >:
O I saw a drunk tugging at a bamboo fence
O I ate a worm in a lolly at the weekend with my friend as a dare, while watching Son of Rambow (amazing film btw)
O I bought a newspaper and didnt read it
O I bought some cufflinks from a marketplace
O I sewed up my jacket which is falling appart (I can sew? I suppose textiles paid off then)
O My dad is flying back from Vienna (yaay)

* Short Play *

2008-04-28T18:55:00.004+01:00

I have decided to do a short play based on the theme of darkness :)

Encased

Opening credit sequence (one minute)

The opening credits start in a scene of a silent room. A girl (Abby) is sitting next to her dad on one sofa. A sister is in the corner playing with a toy and all you hear is her humming. The opening credits start.

Abby's V.O. cuts in slowly over the humming. "I never appreciated much, there's a lot to be said for toast in bed and the crick and clack of a plastic Mac but... I never appreciated much"

a pause while a van slams and there are footsteps on gravel. The girl looks up with wide scared eyes.

V.O. "until they took me away.

"The screen goes black and you hear a loud knocking as the title appears letter by letter 'ENCASED'

Scene 1 (approximately five minutes long)

Shot is of a white room and a bed in the middle, never used. A window the other side of the bed with bars across it. The room is plain and drab. The camera moves forwards over the bed and tilts down and there, in a shapeless dress, is Abby.

The room flashes brighter and then darkens to grim grey walls and she is dressed in a bloody rag. tracking the camera backwards, the rest of the room comes into view and it is dank and dirty. Abby wakes.

She looks around the room and hums a little, refusing to sit on the bed or touch the walls, she walks around the cell.

V.O. “Bastards. They think I don’t know, they think I don’t see what goes on inside this place. They want to kill me; they want to kill me for good.” She runs to the window.

Shot changes to through the window from the outside, pointing at Abby's face through the bars and glass. She breathes on the glass and writes 'help', but it quickly fades. She does it again, but it fades again.

A knock at the door and someone comes in, dressed in black robes and the person's face is distorted, like a demon.

Demon: Eat this

Abby: It's worms

Demon: Try it

Abby: You’re trying to poison me

Demon: (comes towards her with a forkful of worms) go on, its delicious

Abby: (Hits the forkful of worms away) No! I don’t want it

The demon goes to the door and more demons appear, tying her to the bed and forcing her to eat the worms. She protests but soon becomes drowsy.

Later, she wakes and vomits up the worms, the room gets lighter and she starts to smile at a bird which is pecking on the window.

Scene 2 (two minutes)

Abby stands by a door as two nurses come out of it. One nurse sighs.

Nurse 1: I had better go tell her parents Jenny

A doctor walks up to meet them and they walk past Abby, without a glance - she is smiling. The first nurse sighs sadly.

Doctor: Not good?

Nurse 1: She died

Doctor: She was only schizophrenic! (Incredulous)

Nurse 1: (scathing glance) she had a reaction to the drugs

Doctor: I see…

Closing Scene (one minute)

The scene rewinds quickly then goes black again.

Hear the humming of Abby’s sister, Michelle. Shot of her playing with her toys in the corner, she looks up suddenly and sees a bird hopping towards her.

Michelle: Hello…

Roll credits

The End

Do you like???

* The Wheeze Breeze *

2008-04-05T12:47:00.003+01:00

We as a nation are spawning an asthmatic civilisation, people rave about what causes it: Food, polution, smoke, a full moon. What I can guarantee is that no third world country is as dependant on inhalers as we are so the question remains - in what way are we killing our future and how do we stop it.

tbc... xx

* Fighting For Breathing Space *

2008-04-05T00:38:00.004+01:00

When walking through town I find myself fighting through miasmic city air and it just makes me want to throw up, its disgusting! Between car emissions, cigarette smoke and stale perfumes its any wonder our lungs dont migrate south for the winter.

I was just walking along and some lorry decides to drive past so I am blasted with the fumes, well okay then. A little further on, three people walk past me, wielding cigarettes, so I held my breath, because its disgusting and as soon as I turn the corner, take a breath and theres a great freaking van, parked but still running. It's a waste and it's killing me. Alas, what can I do, if the governments are relentlessly refusing to halt the genocide then I'm hardly going to fight them with the might of a clean lung and a paper towel, am I.

It's the peoples choice, I know that, I accept that. What I do not accept, is that the people are choosing for me. No, nein, nil points, I will choose my own demise and it will not be lung cancer. Or poisoning by fumes or asphyxiation on perfumes. More likely it will be death my dangerously high mixture of alcohol and men. But seriously, I would rather not have to have smoke puffed in my face while walking past a smoking skeleton. I dont care if it's cool, honey, you've got lines where they don't belong.

Ahh, speaking from bristol, another big city, I am literally just going from starless night to starless night ~xx

p.s. OMG I cant believe that Tosh and Owen are gone! woah, I didn't see that one coming. I mean, although I'm glad Ianto is still alive, I am still upset. :( Oh. Gray was evil... I spose its good they went together, since they had all that history but oh, I'm sad.

* Bristol Springs *

2008-04-03T23:06:00.002+01:00

Tomorrow I am off to the wonderful city of Bristol where mon pater et al lives. Hopefull the roads will not be too busy, but seeing as it will be a Friday and the first day of the 'Easter holidays' (well its not easter is it!), I bet it will be gridlock all the way...

bah xx

* Breakfast Time *

2008-04-02T19:58:00.002+01:00

A challenge from creative writing to write a naturalistic piece of dialogue based on ___ and then I pick an option from the list. I picked 'breakfast time'

Short Dialogue for Breakfast

(Michael is standing in the kitchen while Lucy walks in)

Michael: (cheerfully) Good morning

Lucy: (grunts)

(Lucy proceeds to take out rice crispies, milk, sugar, spoon and doles it all out angrilly, causing items to fall out of the fridge. Spoon in one hand, bowl in the other she turns)

Michael: Can you give it a rest

Lucy: (grunts)

(Retreating into her room, she sits on her bed and stirs the cereal)

Lucy: Too early. You wake me up way too early. Stupid. (crunch)

Alarm Clock: Yeah, well you set me... It's not like I'm alowed to sleep.

Lucy: (crunch) grachkle too early! (crunch)

(Lucy hugs her chester to herself and kisses his head)

Lucy: you never wake me up to early... you just listen.

Chester: Miow

yeah, cos I'm not psychotic... xx

* Stereotypes *

2008-04-02T19:21:00.004+01:00

I wanted to spend some time writing with a more feminine voice so I wrote about being fifteen, but aparantly my idea of being fifteen is 'stereotyped' Oh, of course, how stupid of me, because I had forgotten what being fifteen was like, having popped out of the womb a full grown adult.

So I wrote this piece and I was very unsure of the piece, I thought it was not right to be so intimate with a piece of writing, but then I thought you know, what the hell! Its not like I have to tell people it means so much. And since I am always getting into character, nobody seemed to even think it.

So Andy reads it out and asks people what they thought of it gender-wise and the two feminists pipe up and say - I think it sounds like a girl but only because its based on body image and its so stereotyped. Hello! Body image amongst young girls is a big deal, and it defines many girls, how can you be so off-hand in saying its stereotyped. I didnt over-exaggerate, in fact the body image problems were really the bottom of the list. They go on to tell me its not believable, its not real etc etc. Im sorry, but where have you lived all your lives? Cramped up in some girls school. Mmm, really living it out, there.

Usually I dont get so psyched about criticism, in fact I prefer criticism to 'It's good, I like it' but its just that this sits close to my heart.

Yes, aparantly the whole issue about body image is just some conspiracy to seperate girls from boys.

Freaky xx

* More Easter Revelations *

2008-03-23T18:44:00.004Z

So as anyone who knows me will know, I am incredibly impulsive, and I dont mean it in that offhand way - oh I'm so crazy I just waved at a bird - I mean like if I feel the urge to run into the sea then I will, or if I feel like singing or running for no reason or if I suddenly decide that you look tasty I will chew on your jumper sleeve or something. It's just something I do without thinking about it and I suppose it follows some train of thought, especially since I'm only comfortable with it when I'm with people I know well. So its not random. An impulse is more when I'm thinking about it but its a wonky train of thought, so I will almost be deluded into thinking it will do one thing. I then do it and it has a completely different effect.

Anyways where is this rambling mess leading to Lucy? Well yesterday I watched America's next top model and their makeovers and me being me looked in the mirror and thought - I can pull that off! Lol.

So the impulse lasted for a while, starting with a bath, then taking the scissors into my room, I drew a dotted line around my belly and cut an incision line through the skin, intending to pull out the fat and sew it all back up later so I would be skinny like them. But, of course, it didnt work, so I'm kindof in an institution...

As if..

So in actuality I did have a bath and I did take the scissors into my room and a comb, brushed all my hair forwards into two bunches and cut about four inches off. O.M.G. so I then sought about making a long side fringe for myself. It started off past my eyes on one side, then I did the other. Unsatisfied with the results, I cut a little more off, combed down the front and cut it straight accross, but it turned into a blooming great fringe. Ahh! This was no good, and it was past my eyes - If I was to sport a fringe, it at least should be above my eyes. So I cut some more until it was, then cut to the sides and down. The two sides curled in. I was freaked out at this point because I had just cut off the hair I had grown over the past six months and cut bloody great fringe in front, the likes of which I have not had since I was like seven or eight years old. And I have just cut off all that work it took to grow out the mini-fringe I created a few years back and I cut off all my layers I gave myself last year!

Woah.

I mean its no surprise that I cut my hair, I do it all the time and I've always been quite good at it to be honest because I know what suits me, but this time I took such a big risk and its this change and I'm not sure how people are going to react at college...

Ahh well - so my mum and sisters got a shock when ~I came out this morning (that fringe wasnt there yeasterday) lol :) xx

* Easter Revelations *

2008-03-22T18:07:00.003Z

Boing boingy boing, hello from the easter bunny who is about to bring you chocolate. Newsflash: - easter is about the pain and suffering that one man went through to save us from our own sins.

The chocolate eggs represent fertility and this is actually a paganisation which the church has adopted. Busted. And the easter bunny probably originated as an easter hare, although I'm just guessing. If not then it's a hallmark creation.

As you can tell I'm not a christian, but how could you refuse free chocolate eggs?

Hokay the title of this post is not really relevant, I just wanted to wish you a happy easter for tomorrow and grace you with a poem which I intend to give to our lovely preist and see what she makes of it. And to be fair she did ask me specifically if I could write something about an observation of the church.

Crucifixion

On Easter, drink the Saviours blood
And eat his swarthy flesh.
You watch him die upon the cross
So he can rise again.

Or wash your hands of conscience
And send him to his death,
Feed vinegar to quench the thirst,
Thorned crown upon his head.

Incarcerated in a tomb
While Mary weeps for him
He rose from death and moved the stone
To save mankind from sin.

Go wet your lips in vinegar
Wash feet in good perfume
Wear a crown of swarthy flesh
And lie down in a tomb.

You reinvent that fateful day
Strive for his perfection
Forgetting all about his pain
Hidden in pretension.

Take that kiss of sweet betrayal
To close your eyes and feel
Fight for those who will deny you
And let the sinners heal.

I tried to make it as christian as I could, but without being subserviant - what do you think? xx

* First Time *

2008-03-22T02:59:00.003Z

Yes-torday was my first ever poetry performance, I read out two poems to an audience of about twenty people (way cool) but still nerve-racking. I read with a couple of people and met a woman called Rosy Carrick who said she could get me into the line up for hammer and tongue, a poetry slam, which is amazing.

So yes, here are the poems I read out :)

Post Wolfenden Euphoria 1967

That solemn day to mark a nations pride,
Meant that I did not have to pay a fine
For loving and adhering to his will
And to this unrelenting heart of mine.

We snatched a waltzing dance around the room,
Where yesterday we’d not have been so bold
And later, while out walking in the street,
I took my blushing partners hand to hold.

The government had coined a daring leap
But some people seemed rather left behind.
I took a beating twice, outside our house
Bore it in scars, but kept my piece of mind.

The earth, eternal building site of life.
It won’t accept two peoples sounding voice.
Morality wiped clean our dirty slates
And gave to us the gift of sexual choice.

House Training

As I find myself increasingly aware
Of my many siblings toilet care
And where they fail their expectations,
We attempt commiserations.
Goodbye dear rug you fared us well
But when our carpets start to smell
And when they wet their bed with glee
Despair is hope to set us free.

Pooing is the worst and this I know
Though it betters as they grow.
Holding faeces in their little hands,
Showing off the power of their anal glands.
You will shrink back in disgust
And so you should, all parents must,
Or your child will think that man
Must show their poo to whom they can.

This child you’re about to bear
Will like to throw up in your hair,
Will choose a chair on which to pee,
Will put food in your DVD,
Will keep you up on every night,
Will just ignore your desperate plight,
Will tear your magazines and books,
And add bags to enhance your looks.

Just hear me out on this okay,
Before you throw your life away,
Get a blasted animal
And practice.

Hokay so thats all. love xx

Copyright L.McClean 2008

* No Hot Water *

2008-03-17T22:44:00.001Z

I WANT A GOD DAMN BATH

* Thong Day *

2008-03-15T23:37:00.004Z

So happy thong day everyone!

And of course, your reading this thinking - what the buck (good show) is she on about, I never got a memo. Well that's because it only applies to me.

When it comes to family, I have far too much of it, I have my mum dad their spouses, I have four sisters, one brother and an unknown on its way, could be a slovene... (Doctor Who reference) then I have 8 aunts and uncles, three first cousins, countless other cousins, 8 grands and great grands, 7 great aunts and I don't even want to think about how many 'would be family members' so when we all get together its a BIG deal. Last time we did it was at a wedding and only my step dads quarter. And that was big enough thankyou.

So anyways christmasses and birthdays are just totally overblown. I mean big! So how does this relate to thongs? Well my nan (step-nan) comes down a lot and shes a lovely woman to be around, but ever since my mum told her I wore a thong, she has not stopped buying them for me.

At first it was totally embarassing, like ew, why is my nan buying me thongs. Then it just grew on me and I guess its her way of bonding and whatever, I'm not complaining. In fact now I look forward to it, especially when I get bored of the last three pairs. Oh! And thats the othewr thing, she always gets them in threes. Its not like they are a three pack or something, in fact she goes out and chooses them specially for me, its so sweet. :D

And some of them are so goreous and sexy

So today, I looked in the bag - facewipes - I knew there was something there! But then came the thongs. Two red 'french style' lacy ones (hot) and this lacy thing which I was like OMG how cheesy - does she not know fashion or is she trying to tell me I deserve to wear cheap-hooker pants. There is a fine line between class and cheap hooker and she just crossed it. So what do they look like? Black and white leopard skin print with black lace trim. I'll wear them, but no way are they my favourite pair. And they say red lace is garish...

Just thought you'd like to know :P ~x

p.s. Worship the Jackness!

* Challenge *

2008-03-13T19:55:00.004Z

So I would like to take this oppourtunity to say that I love taking requests or challenges that people give me, I will do anything with reason, especially if it is to do with writing.

So far, I have just one challenge from people I know personally - That is to write a book in a month http://www.bebo.com/welcome-to-martin check it out! (I'm failing so bad at that)

And every now and then I like to make my own challenges with random words, so I ask someone for a random word and I have half an hour to write one or two poems about it, then if I like it/them, I develop them. Its a good way of getting inspiration when I'm bored or just feeling stuck.

But people are getting annoyed with my constant hunt for a random word.

My friend recently gave me the most perfect website ever, it is a random word generator and its amazing! I am going to try it sometime. http://www.zokutou.co.uk/randomword/

Not today though, because today I am writing the 14,600 words I should have already completed of my novel (its going to be crap!) :D and I have an essay to do for Karen... x

* The Art Of Slinging *

2008-03-12T17:43:00.000Z

In this pamphlet, you will be learning in three easy steps how to sling effectively, and this will go from slinging things as small as an organic banana skin, to slinging something as huge as a genetically modified banana skin.

The three steps are:

1) pinch
2) flick back and
3) release.

In this easy to read pamphlet, your slinging problems wil go from nil to bril in just 60 seconds (figure based on an average reading of 2 competent children - may not be applicable to adults, crack heads, teenagers or the mentally challenged).

Stage 1

This stage is the most complicated of the three so follow the instructions to the word. You may want to ask a child to help with removing the skin as this could be dangerous.

Lay your banana skin out on an appropriate table, adults may want to ask a child for some help. Now locate the end of the banana skin, this is the part which all the arms of the skin spread out of, this may be difficult for some. Once you have located the end of the banana skin, release the thumb and first finger of whichever hand you feel most comfortable with, ordinarilly they will be on the same hand. Now you have your thumb and forefinger at the ready, practice a pincer movement, bring them together then apart again. When you are confident of this maneuver, you may pick the banana skin up with you thumb and forefinger utilising the pincer movement you have just been practicing. Do not let go of the banana skin and raise it in the air so that the arms of the skin are dangling in the air just above the table.

Well done! You have completed stage 1 and I am very impressed with you :D

Stage 2

You will now be learning about how to flick the banana skin back in a stylish manner in readiness for stage three. Stage 2, while not as complicated as Stage 1, still requires a certain level of skill and so you must read this next bit carefully and if you get stuck, ask a child to demonstrate.

Hold your banana skin as outlined in the previous step and practice swinging it gently, slowly at first just backwards and forwards like the pendulum of a big old grandfather clock. This should be in constant flowing motion, try not to get the arms caught up or tangled. Now straighten your arm, relax your wrist (at the base of your hand) and swing your hand from the wrist without moving the arm. Tricky, I know, I would not advise anyone with bad wrist problems, a broken arm or wrist or arthuritis to continue, as it would be inadvisable. Now make sure the banana skin is swinging still pinched at the base.

Fantastic, you're more than half way there!

Stage 3

The very last stage of your slinging training. Only move on to this stage if you are sure that you have mastered stage 1 and 2. Children have been helpful thus far, but it may be difficult to learn under their tutelage any longer, return the child to its parent and say thank you.

At this point you have practiced the wrist swing, now you must learn to let go at the perfect time to allow the banana skin to gather enough momentum through kinetic energy to soar gracefully through the air and hopefully land in the desired bin. You must hang on to the skin until it reaches the furthest away it can be, then slowly release thumb then forefinger but follow through, do not withdraw your hand straight away. Releasing the skin at any other point may result in stunted flight, loss of arcing or sliging back to yourself which is never advisable.

Try now.

Now review the sling, did it go in the bin? Did it fall short, work out, in your own time, the aeronautics of that particular skin, are the arms too thin, too fat, did you not let it go at the right time, did you use not just your wrist but your arm? Practice the sling again, try with another banana skin to compare performances, try sharpening the end. But most of all - have fun!

Dude, this rocks! x

* The Art Of Slinging Explanation *

2008-03-12T15:55:00.000Z

I just did a really bad banana sling accross the room, it didnt even go a metre, thats how awful it was. Immediately I knew that I had done it all wrong but it was just too late. I had let go while it was mid swing so it did not pick up enough momentum to go the extra half metre to the bin. The tragic end to my long standing dream of a sucessful career in the art of slinging. So like all rejects who have been denied their dream, I thought I would write a short pamphlet on the art of slinging.

so tootles x

* Kids Toys *

2008-03-12T14:04:00.000Z

I dont know about you, but I love those random little kids toys you get in kinder eggs and 'goody bags' and happy meals. I bought a goody bag recently for my sisters birthday (she is going to be 4) and ended up opening it and playing with all the stuff inside - it had stickers and pop up things and colouring boards and one of those colouring pencils that hass lots of different changeable colours in.

So yesterday, instead of doing work, I watched Torchwood episodes back to back, ate a subway and random sweets and played with the stuff in my goody bag. Eep, so fun!

But every now and again I find it is nice to keep up with my inner child and buy a kinder egg and the stuff you get insde them nowadays are so awesome. I have aquired over the last couple of months - a watermark printer, a sticker dispenser with stickers, a flying wheel (wtf), a really good magnifying glass (well plastic), an odd badge thing, a face maker a tape measure, an odd little red creature with extra detatchable face and three fuzzy bunnies. I also have a heart hole punch and rubber, for no reason... And a pencil with a little wooden woman on top, although thats not so childish :P

I just love little things like that, perhaps thats why children like me so much, because I like the things they like... Maybe. Oh speaking of, when I was babysitting, their mum said to me that James (her six year old) had told her that if he had a second mummy, it would be me. I was like - aww, thats so adorable! And I've only known them for about five months, if that. They are the sweetest little kids and so good! I have NEVER babysat for such good children before.

Oh and a little rant from the past few days:

People keep saying to me 'The weather's so miserable lately' or 'What horroble weather' and I have this standard response which is something like - 'not if your a tree' or great to be a worm though. Its irritating that people personify the weather as though it has feelings or that is is conscious. The weather is just the atmosphere, the concentration of the sun on a certain area. And its effect is subjective. I like the rain, I enjoy it and I enjoy wind and snow and thunderstorms, so somebody saying to me isnt this weather dreadful, I'm like - no! Actually I think I might dance.

And they never say that about hot days - oh no, they get burnt, they get sweaty and lethargic, they are sitting outdoors, skin exposed to this great raging carcenogen, but do they complain - do they hell. See personally, I dont like the sun. I dont mind it if I'm in a wood or on a nice walk, but my limit is an hour even then. So dont they go telling me its glorious in the summer and crap in the winter, because they cant see past their own likes and dislikes to accept somebody elces.

Bloody people! Sometimes I think "God" got it right - send in the floods!

Alright so rant over x

* Star Wars IV *

2008-03-12T03:06:00.000Z

Okay so I've never been much of a space nerd and I have never seen star wars before. yes go ahead, shout at me, its a total travesty blah blah.

So I thought today, while babysitting with the boxset in front of me, why not. I mean you cant be a real film fanatic if you've never seen Star Wars. And I never had an opinion on it, half the stuff people say to me flies over my head.

I watched it. I laughed a lot of the way through and reminisced on all the wonderful spoof takes on many of the moments - "Use the forks, the forks!" - I was actually impressed with the timelessness of the whole thing, I mean apart from the hair do's and the tell tale mic intake of old films, it did not seem dated - the special effects were lasting, that space ship, woah! That can't have been CG.

Anyhow I just had to mark my new discovery and eagerly await my babysitting duties this saturday so I can watch the next one :D

Oh and - Chubakka - what a ledge! x

* University *

2008-03-11T18:56:00.000Z

Ach, it feels dead weird getting an email from Liverpool John Moores University saying that my tenancy agreement will be winging its way to me by friday. Friday! Its totally strange being told I'm actually going to have a place of my own, that I'm going to be flat sharing and paying rent and buying toothpaste and toilet roll and butter. Insane!

Im looking forward to leaving home so much, I mean, I practically live on my own anyway - I have and pay for my own internet, I have a computer and I pay for my own phone and make my own food and stuff, but it will be bizarre to wake up and have everything there to go outside of my room and see some girl I hardly know walk past. It's kindof scary if you think about it. I mean, its not like its never happened before, but its so permanent, like I have to clean the toilet and wash my own clothes, get a job and pay rent and budget. Im terrible with money!

My dad suggested that they throw me in at the deep end, that I do everything on my own, until my mum reminded him that he was never thrown in like that and that I would plummet. I need to get registered with a GP and a dentist and a therapist and remember to stock up on my prescriptions and not completely run out of money and not lose my keys and to have spares made and to know where the launderette is and to keep a healthy diet and everything.

I bet my mum and dad would be checking up on my every day. My sister's pretty happy about my leaving though - she gets my room, or half of it. My room is like two rooms but at the moment there is no door between them. It's like a study and an en-suite bedroom. The bedroom bit is staying mine (its the size of a double bed) and it will have all my stuff in that Im not taking with like my computer and my books and DVD's. Then were going to put a door in.

OMG its awesome. I cant describe how much I'm looking forward to it! x

* Fun *

2008-03-10T20:46:00.000Z

Do you like how I designed my blog - you even have the joy of photos :]

Today was a day of joy. I woke up, got some clothes on, made myself tea and watched S1E12 of Torchwood, which made me happy because Jack Harkness (hot!) kisses, you'll never guess, Jack Harkness... And the second Jack Harkness is even hotter than the first. They are stuck in a time shift in the middle of the London blitz, 1940's ish, so when they get up and dance with eachother in front of all these soldiers, who barely know the meaning off the word gay, and they dance and kiss eachother goodbye. So even though I've seen that scene like ten times, it's still heartening.

Then I made another cup of tea and watched the next episode. I love torchwood.

So I was pretty wired from tea and Torchwood glory, but had to go in to college for class, so I get ready, stuck my head out the door and its raining horizontally - uphill. Jesus christ! The winds today were off the scale. Eighty mile an hour winds and bloody bins were being blown into the street. So my mum gave me a lift for fear of death by plastic bin impact.

Got in and was very early, talked to all my favourite people, including two sexy tutors (joke), one bearing a startling resemblance to Dara O Brien - Ha! Then I had a wonderful conversation with him about how pissed off I was at the American government that they will condone a man getting married to a horse, but if two men want to get married it's a problem. Then my Hannah came in, and I call her my Hannah, but she's really MY Hannah. So she came and sat down. Then we were talking about the redeeming features of James bond - I was like, hmm, well apart from his misogynistic tendancies, what is there. Then we go on to how he likes fine food and wine and Tom (who is obsessed with me and Hannah) said - well yes, you would be hard put to find him asking for a stella and a packet of nobbys nuts. Much hillarity ensued.

My next lesson was cancelled so myself and Hannah wondered off, ate a duck wrap each and talked about this and that. Mainly this man that keeps messaging me.

Oh and what is up with first impressions? I dont get it, people seem to be constantly getting it wrong.

Okay so then we walked along the beach for a while (winds still blasting away but without the rain) and we are getting more and more desperate for the toilet, the general outcome of large drinks. We found Tom's number. Me, being me, just could not resist a joke, so Tom answers the phone (tom is this obsessive guy who is clever but socially inept) and hears me and Hannah making orgasmic noises on the other end - well worth it, I can tell you.

So that was my day, enjoy! x

* Introduction *

2008-03-10T19:41:00.000Z

This blog is not really about anything I just thought I would create it and talk about whatever I feel like talking about on it.

Me, well what can I say? Im British, I drink tea and eat chocolate. It's not like I have any particular labels and this isn't a dating site so it's not like I should tell you what turns me on.

I'm 17, and I suppose I am like most 17 year olds. I have my quirks, my up's and down's and intellectually I'm pretty average. I drink, I party, I have fun, I worry about my appearance.

I'm nothing special.

So here's to the blog of a nobody - chin chin x