Tag: #Rubbish

Reasons Why I Could Never Write Movie Reviews

*A Personal Amusing Musing*

 

I go to the cinema more often than I should, I adore the solitude, the time to escape the mundane and plunge myself into a tale. I adore the darkness, the ice cream and the size of the screen. I watch a whole range of genres, but mostly Horror, Marvel/DC, Action, Thriller… Basically anything with explosions…

… I’m enjoying my work on my blog, the way it skips from the short scenes of a progressing story, merged with my dreadful poetry and random thoughts, with a sprinkling of rants to spice things up a bit occasionally. Several friends have suggested that I could use this space here to add some Movie Reviews to accompany my passion for the cinema. I can’t do that.

I don’t like movie reviews and I hardly ever read them, I like to form my own opinion with an open mind, I don’t like to know the story before hand, I go on the strength of ‘trailers’ which means I have sat through some weird shit before now, because I wasn’t really sure what I was letting myself watch. Though that is really half the fun at times! A movie review – at the end of the day – is but one persons view alone.

I have noticed that reviews are written in a certain tone of voice, quite similar to professional bloggers, or at least those who take their blog far more seriously than I. A review needs to be carefully written in order to avoid spoilers… This would be my first hang up, I would want to write about the story instead of Mr Fame Pants dreadful acting.

So I would possibly unintentionally let spoilers slip.

I don’t see films as acting – I submerge myself into the tale so much that I forget I’m watching Mr Fame Pants working and I see the character instead. Problem number two – I couldn’t judge ‘acting’… I am very easily entertained  (I think this is because I do not own a TV) so basically everything is awesome…

I think should I write a review, it would run along the lines of overwhelming enthusiasm an overdose of the word ‘awesomeness’, unintentional spoilers and a summery which is based on whether I would buy it on DVD or not…

Lets face it, I’m not good at being critical, I prefer to be emerged, I forget to look for ‘Easter Eggs’ I never scoff which an unimpressed “As if!” … Because it’s a movie – it is designed to be beyond real, to be fantastic, emotional, larger than life and make believe…

I think I’m too dipsy to write a clear review as I can get too excitable, I always have, I could not sit still in my seat as a child because I wanted to jump into the screen and throw myself into adventure. I believe my movie obsession fuels my love for writing and I am fascinated by the whole process from idea to story to screenplay to screen (and all the little steps in between) Yes! I do judge a film against a book – if I have read the book that is – But I can accept that a film is another persons translation  upon the book and everybody see stories differently in their minds.

I can’t write a film review – I prefer to collect experiences and each film I watch at the cinema is another experience to treasure.

 

Anne Harrison 10.11.16

Part 10 – A Twist in Fate

The Secret of the Stone…

 

Kane had, as a child, been conscripted into the Royal Army when his village was destroyed. He remembered little of his previous life and to this day served loyally to a King and Country which was not really his own. Many troops shared the same story, indeed, it is frightfully similar to the history of The Guardian Hara was desperately trying to save. Though he had been labelled a deserter, if anyone knew Kane had picked up the glittering stone, he would be classed a thief and punished as such.

He had sprinted off after The Prince when he had bolted in fear as the child of the prophecy had been consumed by the black tar…

…  That’s enough of a recap there folks …

It was at the point where he caught up with The Prince, bent double vomiting and trembling with fear, still clutching the blue stone, so tightly in his grip, it cut into his palm. Blood ran down the back of his hand and tarnished the blue glow. Syn felt a subtle vibration in his jerkin pocket… The red stone hummed softly against his chest, calling to the blue stone, crying with a forlorn tone that the young soldier felt emotionally. Suddenly fearing that The prince could sense a similar sensation… If he did, he displayed no outward sign of realisation and indeed went back to the camp on jelly like legs demanding wine and the attention of his favorite concubine.

So Kane withdrew back to his bunk among rows of tents, awaiting orders, desiring solitude. Shortly before the order to disband the camp came through, he had a few precious moments alone to view the stone he had collected.

It was smooth, deep red, like a rich claret, a deep inner glow radiated from the heart of the stone. It was warm, but it had been against his chest and it still vibrated, but ooh so softly. Like the sleeping soothing purr of a kitten. He smiled, cleaning off the dried stain left over from the tar.

“Who are you?” it was a whisper inside his skull “I don’t know your hands.”

Kane nearly dropped the stone in shock, but instead clutched it tighter…

“Kane.” He muttered, glancing around nervously.

“Kane … Hummm… You have a Golden Soul Child…”

He went to say something… but the whisper halted him…

“Someone is coming”  She hissed…

 

… At that point the order to decamp came through

 

Anne Harrison 09.11.16

 

The Two Year Gap

So… I found something I posted from 2014,  which I have already shared with you all recently…

Wow! I have changed, or at least I feel as though I have changed… I read through my old words and I see the old me as I was, tubby,  insecure,  anxious,  fragile,  dependent…

I still have issues with anxiety,  but I have developed independently enough to understand that the ‘what if’ situations I play inside my head are all figments of an over active imagination.

2016 has not been kind to me and my family, but I strongly believe the old me, the one who wrote those words,  would have struggled with all this shit…
Trust me,  it is a struggle,  but I know I need to be strong for others now and not my old selfish insecurities… Me, me, me…I, I, I… Can you really escape that personal torment and focus on others…  Was I really that unbearable?

I realise that what I wrote was so close to the point where everything changed,  that I really was on the path to where I am now… I also know I still have a way to go yet.

I have come so far in two short years…  That I’m looking forward to next Monday!!

 

Love Anne 02.11.16

Part 8 – Twin Stones

The Dawn of the End of the War.

She was dead – A rumble of shock issued through the troops as they slowly recovered from the nauseous dark tar. The Prince had been recovered from his flight, reunited with his companions with the captured jewel. Arrangements were made swiftly to decamp and march home to the capital to the King. Runners were sent ahead in a relay to announce their return and the triumphant news.

The captives were rounded up as the military encampment was packed up around them, there was some debate as to whether they should be slaughtered and left with the rest of the rubbish, however the Prince concluded that they would be more valuable sold as slaves back home, those that survived the march. Hara was among the women, she had already guess the fate of the young woman she had raised and protected from a small child. Her heart was broken, torn and she struggled with her grief, attempting to hide her tears, shuffling along sadly with her fellow female captives. She questioned her ability to walk the distance to the capital, her old legs and swollen feet pained her so each step caused her hips to crack. Best to die here in the same field as her precious girl, an old woman would not be worth much on the open market.

As the male slaves were forced to work, carrying equipment and supplies, Hara craned her neck with some hope she could catch a glimpse of the Guardian, if they had let her live, they would have kept him for fighting stock. At least, that was her speculation… She watched with anticipation…

… But it was the Priest who noted the old woman and ordered her over… Hara had half expected this, she stood out (beyond her actions) clearly she was no peasant nor farmer, her robes, her facial tattoos and her age would identify her as a Witch, a Soothsayer, Wise Woman, Hag… However you wanted to label her, The Priest knew exactly the truth of her nature.

“Your prophet is dead.” He sneered at Hara. “You’re a remnant of an old time, you have no place here, in society, in the capital. You’re a child of the wilds and smell bad too.”

Hara sighed and raised her chin, swallowing back the angry lump in her throat that held bitter words she desired to snap back, instead she remained silent.

“But I am a scholar of the old ways and I’m going to make you a simple, singular offer.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Work for me, I shall employ you as my maid, but in reality, I should like to probe your wisdom.”

“Do I look like a maid?” Hara cracked a smile, she had met religious fanatics before. They either saw her as a threat or a curiosity.

“No… but if I chose a ripe farmers daughter, they would consider me a pervert.”

“One condition.”

“I’m listening.”

“There was a man with us, a soldier, what is to be his fate?”

“The deserter?”

Hara nodded.

…

 

Anne Harrison 31.10.16

Part 7 – Prince of Fools

The Misconception of Regal Entitlement…

The young Prince Regent gasped with astonishment… Then erupted into a low sinister chuckle, causing both his companions to turn in concern and two guards wisely backed away. Before anyone could react he reached forth and plucked the gemstone from the girls chest.

“It is Mine!” The Prince clutched the gem tightly…

“What have you done? You fool!” The Military Commander, took a step back, bumping into his Religious companion, who make a sigil of protection with his two fore fingers and pressed the tips against his forehead.

“By the Gods!” His voice was barely a whisper… The girls prone form started to shudder, from the chasm between her breasts, dark wisps of energy pooled forth, like misty tentacles, black and foreboding, they wriggled free, slithering over the trembling girl as her convulsions intensified. Black tar frothed at her mouth and nose, her eyes rolled back into her skull, blood tears ran swiftly… A muffled scream gurgled deep under the thick tar suffocating her, the tendrils smothered her body and gathered the flesh in within itself, mutilating her form, tearing skin from muscle, flesh from bone, the tar eating away the bone, hissing acid scorching the earth.

The stench was repulsive and even the strongest of stomachs gagged, causing heads to spin with nausea. A low dark fog spread out over the ground, turning the earth septic and rotten.

The girl died in wretched agonizing torment, consumed by the blackness, the blackness that was held back from the sparkling gem. All that remained, the single evidence she ever existed, was a sister gem, laying in the sludge. It twinkled, catching the eye of the nearest guard. Those around were distracted, vomiting or had fainted. The Prince had ran with the blue gem in fear of the extending stench. With a thick gloved hand over his mouth and nose, the guard scooped up the dull red stone and slipped it into his pocket. Turning to assist the Commander in Chief to cover up his actions…

“Go after the Prince!” He barked to any guards with enough sensibility to follow any orders. “Stop Him!” He coughed and blinked back acid tears.

“She didn’t deserve that…” The Priest knelt trembling, fumbling among his robes for a holy potion to keep the tar at bay. His muttering prayers accompanied the scattering of the potion, which hissed and smoked as it hit the gore.

“She didn’t deserve that.”

…

 

Anne Harrison 28.10.16

 

Confession of a Chaotic Mind

Lost … Without a Map or Compass …

You know the little story I’m writing – we’re on part 6 this week (though I’m not sure part 5 actually counts towards to plot) You know I have absolutely no idea what I’m writing, where the story is going, or what I’m going to write before I sit down at the keyboard.

It’s all free writing, currently I don’t even have names for the two main characters, I’m not sure from one day to the next if I’m even going to continue with the tale. Isn’t it all exciting!! I mean I’ve not even read through what I have already written, it’s a total mystery to me, but it’s also incredibly fun…

To pick up a thread, to allow my fingers to dance across the keys as my mind just pulls forth words from apparently no where to string together, weaving my silly story from one blog post to the next. Think of it like a ‘Chose your own Adventure’ story, except there isn’t a page to turn to, because it doesn’t exist yet…

*Insert Evil Laugh*

I can ‘see’ them in my minds eye, hear their voices, I know what they’re wearing, even how they smell, but because I’ve not put this into words (yet) none of it exists beyond my little brain… and even when I share my words, who ever reads them will ‘see’ a different shade of blonde, or a darker leather, Elm trees instead of Oak (if I just refer to a tree generically)… Isn’t it all very incredible and interesting…

Generally we (English Speaking) have a mere 26 letters in our alphabet, by arranging and rearranging these 26 letters constantly to form words into sentences, into paragraphs into pages. We can share what we imagine and allow others to mentally translate these letters into vivid stories… Which is what makes writing all kinds of exciting…

Maybe I’m not really ‘Lost …’
…Maybe I just need to lay my own path.

Maybe I’m not really ‘Without a Map or Compass … ‘
… Maybe I just haven’t created them yet.

 

Anne Harrison 26.10.16

Escaping Fiction

Juggling Stones

Sometimes we have to face reality and ask ourselves, what the fuck am I doing with my life? Which pretty much sums up this year, my birthday is approaching and I’m finding that I’ve done nothing on my to-do list apart from adding more challenges to it. I don’t even feel ready to start my New Years Resolutions yet and it’s October! I feel that once I find myself on a roll, something comes along and pulls the carpet out from under my feet. One thing I have been able to maintain (even if I have not always written every week) has been this Blog. Which keeps my love for writing alive and my creativity flowing, sometimes you get my random thoughts, sometimes silly short stories and if you’re really naughty, you get my God awful poetry.

I’m trying to learn another language, having chosen to return to University, this is a  dreadful mistake. I’m a total brain dumb tongue tied confused wreck! But I’m going to stick with it, after all, it is another stone to juggle in my life.

Jack of all trades – Master of none…I question my intelligence, it would be so delightful to be clever enough to do a degree, yet the more I learn, the further from my reach this imaginary goal appears to be.

I need to *Stop* Just pause in life, look around and take stock of who I am, where I am, where I am going and what I want to do… Because I feel like I’m trapped on a carousal, spinning, dizzy, grasping and slipping … There is so much I want to do, so many stones to juggle, I don’t know where to start and where to finish…

I destroyed my journal as my thoughts were drowning out production, thinking instead of doing. Stomping over the same ground, picking up more stones to juggle as I spin… I could be a circus act, if I had a glittery costume…

Don’t worry… I will carry on with my story shortly, today, I needed to air my thoughts. Maybe I should use my Birthday for a marker point for change? Or is that just tempting chaos? Maybe I should just embrace the chaos with a smile and a wink, safe in the knowledge that life will never be boring as long as there are stones to juggle…

 

Anne Harrison 25.10.16

Part 5 – Irregular Conversation

 

There was very little conversation as night fell and rations were shared. My guardian chose to keep guard, to watch over our slumber, one dog by his side. I couldn’t sleep and so went to join him, sat just above the trees – the sky vast and dark, cloudless with a sprinkling of twinkling stars…

…

“Now what happens?” He spoke without turning to face me.

“What do you mean?” I had no choice but to answer his question with a question of my own, a little taken aback by his bluntness…

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know?”

He shrugged “Well if you don’t know what happens next, I guess we’re all stuck in limbo.”

I nod my head with a long resigned sigh… “I don’t know what to write next.”

There was the truth, my honestly he was seeking, with judgement in his eyes, he turned to face me, I could see him clearly in the nights dull light, because I knew what he looked like, with fine detail. But I had yet to describe him in my story, I hadn’t even given him a name yet. It was all very vague and I sighed once again.

He glanced back over his shoulder to those slumbering in the cave. “Do they know?”

“Know what?” I followed his gaze… “That they are not real, that they are mere figments of my imagination, their torment, their tragedy nothing more than words on a page. Hara, who wears the image of a lady on my bus route?” I thought of the Number 5 bus, the silver haired Asian lady that got on board at the Melton Turn, the way she looked over her round glasses seeking the illusive free seat, how she reminded me of a wise old owl.

“No, I guess they don’t know. I mean, they will continue to lay sleeping until I write the next line.”

“But you can see me, hear me, you know my voice, how I look, my clothes, even my smell… Yet none of this, none of my details exist beyond your mind?”

I simply nodded. “I’m at a loss my friend.”

I don’t even know where we are? Fantasy? Dystopian? A weird Avatar forest like world? In the past, the future… Nothing more than a war, a forest and a handful of characters…

The story had started well enough, a work-shopping story in University class, I had included two endings, one that I have already shared with you all here on WordPress. The second ending, I liked personally, but everyone in class concluded my words should be scrapped… I think I would like to share them again for you, while we sit here under the stars contemplating our future together. I still like them, but they serve no purpose other than to be destined to be scrapped once more…

 

The Soldier

– Trojan – Centurion – Viking – Samurai – Knight – Cavalier – Confederate – Nazi –

Saved the Child

– Messiah – Mother – Innocence – Prophet – Purity – Saviour – Hope –

That saved the Soldier

A frail hope for humanity – a story spiraling throughout time…

download

 

Anne Harrison 20.10.16

Destroying Negative Thoughts

*true story*

 

i burned my journal at the weekend
it was pretty and pink and crammed full of negativity
i tore pages free from the spine
with thoughts in my mind - words cant define

i burned my journal and destroyed my thoughts
self hatred and insecurity plagued the pages
false promises and longing - that were not mine
the constant illusion of perfection

i burned my journal to free my mind
a mind taunted by media images
a mind obsessed with being slim
a mind overthinking

i burned my journal at the weekend
it was pretty and pink and horded black words
i had become a slave to the system
i saw only flaws - i manifested my own hate

i burned my journal and gave hate to the flames
pages curling and blacking
words set free to the fire
that night i actually slept

 

Anne Harrison 17.10.16