March 25, 2011 § Leave a comment
When I was 20, I was with a guy who’d take me out to pubs for lunch and dinner all the (freakin’) time. Now, I do enjoy a decent, cheap chicken parmy, or a $10 steak when the mood strikes, the cash is strapped or the restaurant is an uncomfortable distance away and I’m in heels. But once, twice or three times a week can take its toll. After all, there are only so many meat, chip and salad combinations one can handle until it all starts tasting like heart attack.
I like to call this time in my life my steak period (like Picasso’s blue period, but with pepper sauce). Before this, I rarely if ever ordered a steak at a restaurant thanks to a father who thought shoe soles were the pièce de résistance of cow meat. Of course to impress the guy, I was all up in this steak business. ‘Oh I loooove steak’ I’d exclaim to him, withholding tooth ache memories of spitting chewy gobs of meat into napkins at the dinner table. After my fifth or sixth pub steak I began to, however, develop a refined taste for the meat, proclaiming that one may only have it medium rare to enjoy the full rich iron-y flavour, and refusing to put sauce on it for fear of sullying the taste and insulting the all important chef.
Recently I became a vegan. It is vegan month and I told those around me that I wanted to do it just to see. Curiosity was my calling, I am after all a writer at heart; what is writing without experience? Of course this was all bullshit. To be perfectly frank, I did it to lose weight. I’d been looking for an excuse, a quick fix, a something to trigger some shift in my body without just starving myself. With the intensive restrictions of veganism I thought no one, not even myself, could persuade me to take a bite of that chocolate cake temptation. Extraordinarily, I was right.
March 17, 2011 § Leave a comment
To Dear Anonymous,
I write to you in distress, for I am most ashamed to the point of remorse over the offence I have caused you. It seems my loquacious nature has taken possession of my senses and my apologies are quite overdue. I understand now your deep irritation over my use of the words ‘lol’ and ‘gonna’. To even call them ‘words’ leaves a bitter taste in my mouth I can not conceive of describing to you. To use ‘words’ such as these on the internet of all places for the world to see brings myself, my family and my dear friends only true, unrelenting embarrassment, let me assure you.
I do understand your point of view. There is absolutely no need for brevity in an age where technology acts at lightning speeds and working at a slow and careful pace is the only means to stave off idleness. If we write too quickly and send words electronically then we will soon run out of things to do, grow corpulent and succumb to flatulent, undignified deaths. It is un-Christian. You are also assuredly right to say that these internet abbreviations, such us ‘wanna’, ’bout’ and ‘roflcopter’, are bringing about an undignified death to the English language itself.
February 8, 2011 § Leave a comment
It sounds incredibly self-involved, but every time I’ve sat and fatasized about jumping into a time machine, it hasn’t been to go back and slay baby Hitler or save a few of my ancestors from a brutal witchy barbeque. In fact, aside from the numerous and somewhat worrying Louis the XIV fantasies, much of these sci-fi dreamscapes have involved my sitting on a silver seat, in a playground talking with my nine year old self.
Recently I read a blog post written by a mid-thirties journalist about what she would tell herself were she able to step back in time to her childhood. Not to copy her idea or anything (OK, to copy her idea), but I’ve decided to write a list of the things I’ve always wanted to tell my little, naiive prototype. Brace yourself, because this might get emotionally indulgent (and just a little bit gross).
February 7, 2011 § Leave a comment
When I was 6, my favourite book was ‘The Ballerina Mystery’, a choose your own adventure book by Jamie and Laurie Pascal. The premise was fairly simple, you are a young Ballerina competing against your best friend and your worst enemy for the Prima Ballerina title in an upcomming performance. And of course the story unfolds into the usual betrayal, lust, kidnapping, death, falling through a door into a boat of midgets and getting lost at sea, forever.
I must have read the book twenty times in the space of a few months. I leafed through the pages so vigorously the book can now be found next to my bald, bearded barbie doll in the victims of my childhood section of the garage. The reason for this was not because ‘The Ballerina Mystery’ was ‘The Great Gatsby’ of children’s literature, but because I only ever got lost at sea once.
December 16, 2010 § Leave a comment
I have a secret fetish for disaster movies. I like to call it disaster porn, really. There is nothing like sitting with a bucket of popcorn watching millions of people get crushed under a mammoth tidal wave. It sounds sick, I know, but watching thousands of people pointlessly sprint from a barrage of burning meteorites gets my adrenaline pumping more than any disastrous ‘Saw’ sequel ever could.
What fascinates me most about these films is watching human behaviour. While most people dismiss disaster flicks as mental candy, I like to focus on the exploration of how people might behave when faced with imminent destruction. Some people run, naturally. Others stay and fight (and die in a mass yet strangely comical explosion). Some are heroic, others cowardly. And the rest are ants CGI’d in simply to be crushed under the heavy foot of gratuitous schadenfreude.
November 26, 2010 § 1 Comment
When I was 18 my social life went nuclear. By that I mean it exploded so furiously that it killed everything within a hundred kilometer radius and coated the outer-rims in the fresh, green gloop of radiation poisoning. While I still suffer under a mutant form of social anxiety, with extra arms in places arms should never grow, I find the warm green glow I’ve been left with an odd comfort, like a battle-wound I can horrify the great-grandchildren with in days to come.
June 16, 2010 § 10 Comments
There’s an interesting phenomena that comes about when trying to make the transition from film to video game. I like to call it ‘crapification’. It is when the film industry attempts to cash in on the flourishing and extremely lucrative gaming industry by trying to squeeze a video game release into the gap between post-production and cinematic release. That’s a possible 6 months to make a game when it usually takes years to churn out something even remotely worthy of play.
These games are then overtly marketed to the kind of people who aren’t even sure why people play video games in the first place.