Updated only when you aren't looking.
Monday 29 June 2009
Saturday 27 June 2009
Tomorrow
Apologies for my absence, I've been moving house. As I'm moving from one place into the great unknown, this involved packing up every item I own, every single piece of consumerist crap, into my car. Not only that, it also involved cleaning the house top to bottom to try and get our damage deposit back (wishful thinking). I would have felt bad sitting writing these love letters to you, darling internet, while my flatmates soldiered away like the manly, stoic sonsofbitches they are. I didn't actually do any of the cleaning, you understand. I just tried to have a little less fun while they were doing it. Because I'm essentially a hero. A fucking hero.
So, a blog post tomorrow, and one they day after. Hurrahs! Unless you're losing interest, obviously. Then it's not such a big deal. But I'll hate you a little.
So, a blog post tomorrow, and one they day after. Hurrahs! Unless you're losing interest, obviously. Then it's not such a big deal. But I'll hate you a little.
Thursday 18 June 2009
Multiples
Let’s talk writing for a spell, specifically: character. Even more specifically, let’s talk Jamie Maddrox, the Multiple Man. He’s the handsome looking but biologically impossible gentleman depicted below.
I’m something of a comic book nerd, a classification that has grown less derogatory in the last five years. The success of several big budget superhero films has led to a revitalised interest in the characters (although unfortunately interest in the original form- the funnybooks themselves- has increased only mildly). Their position in pop culture has also shifted a little, thanks to the development of ‘nerd cool’ and how many teenage girls fancy Seth from O.C. Admitting to knowing a little bit about comic books is no longer social suicide. Did you get all that? Comic books are cool, everyone says so. I’m really working on re-establishing my cred after the “I play strategy games on the internet” debacle a few posts back.
Multiple Man has been a relatively minor character in Marvel Comic’s X-Men books for nearly thirty years, who has become more popular in the last decade- getting his own miniseries, and now finding himself as the principle character in the ongoing X-Factor. Jamie Maddrox is a mutant, born with a strange abilities beyond those of regular humans. In Maddrox’s case, he can produce complete duplicates of himself that share his personality and intellect. His body creates new ‘dupes’ after absorbing kinetic impact- Maddrox normally creates new dupes by clicking his fingers or stamping his feet, although strong impacts can cause him to create dupes unintentionally.
In his first appearances, Maddrox’s dupes were exact copies of the original (Jamie ‘Prime’). Although he could not control them, they generally had no objection to being re-absorbed by Maddrox, as their new knowledge and experience would also be re-integrated. Maddrox has sent dupes all over the world, acquiring new knowledge that would take several lifetimes for a regular guy to accumulate. He has therefore ‘lived’ several lives, held hundreds of jobs, been a secret agent, a Shaolin monk and an Episcopalian priest.
Over time, however, Maddrox’s powers have developed in a slightly more schizoid direction. The constant re-absorption of memories has left some confusion over what Maddrox has actually done, and what his dupes are responsible for. Some of his dupes have clamoured for more independence, refusing to be assimilated into Jamie Prime. Most recently, his powers have begun to have an alarming side effect- the dupes that emerge are no longer complete copies of his personality. Instead they represent a random side of his psyche- his sense of guilt, or lust, or bravery etc. Maddrox has sent a dupe to talk down a suicidal colleague, unaware that the dupe typified his sense of the perverse. The dupe succeeded in calming the jumper down, and then booted him off the roof himself, just for the yucks.
But Joshua, I’m going to pretend I hear you cry, what has all this to do with character? And thank you so much for ruining the entire story for me!
Well, my sarky friend (I do apologise for having both sides of the textual argument myself, this blog has me drunk with power), I shall tell you if you cease your needless interruptions.
It has taken the character of Jamie Maddrox more than twenty years to develop this interesting spin on multiple personality disorder. A little ironic then that the character of the Multiple Man could be used to represent shit characterisation in general. Jamie Prime might be a superbly realised character, but his dupes have become increasingly flat, one-dimensional.
It’s easy to boss the characters you create around. The poor chaps can’t fight back, after all (at least not with the threat of the delete button staring them in the face. I like to bring some drama to my creative process). So you can make their personalities suit the situation you create for them, and dictate their attributes as you see fit.
Except you can’t keep doing it. Or at least, you really shouldn’t, you dullard. People are infinitely adaptable, but those adaptations are based on the consistencies in your persona. These different sides of you exist in different proportions; you are not as brave as you are maudlin, as optimistic as you are sexually charged. The dupes sent out by Maddrox only really have one character attribute that defines their existence. That doesn’t work for anybody else.
It’s certainly tempting though! If you’ve got a plot niggle to work through, or you want to create a certain atmosphere, why not simply shift up the ratios in you character’s psyche? Make them a little more courageous, if you want them to navigate a dangerous situation to spur the action along. Got a big romantic resolution on the horizon? Shame your protagonist seems like such a shallow, insensitive prat. Why not add a little in, or take a bit away?
The result is your fictional avatar acting ‘out of character,’ something literary criticism has generally identified as a BAD THING. Good (or at least famous) writers constantly talk about characters dictating the narrative, and this seems to by why. When you create a person in print, you are aiming for Jamie Prime- the original, rather than a series of dupes, dominated by traits that are convenient, rather than convincing.
I included Multiple Man in this post because he fits in cleverly with my point, but also because he’s a well created character, despite the obvious inconstancies in his psyche. His dupes might be one dimensional, but that flatness is carefully controlled as part of the plot, rather that simply to allow it.
I’m something of a comic book nerd, a classification that has grown less derogatory in the last five years. The success of several big budget superhero films has led to a revitalised interest in the characters (although unfortunately interest in the original form- the funnybooks themselves- has increased only mildly). Their position in pop culture has also shifted a little, thanks to the development of ‘nerd cool’ and how many teenage girls fancy Seth from O.C. Admitting to knowing a little bit about comic books is no longer social suicide. Did you get all that? Comic books are cool, everyone says so. I’m really working on re-establishing my cred after the “I play strategy games on the internet” debacle a few posts back.
Multiple Man has been a relatively minor character in Marvel Comic’s X-Men books for nearly thirty years, who has become more popular in the last decade- getting his own miniseries, and now finding himself as the principle character in the ongoing X-Factor. Jamie Maddrox is a mutant, born with a strange abilities beyond those of regular humans. In Maddrox’s case, he can produce complete duplicates of himself that share his personality and intellect. His body creates new ‘dupes’ after absorbing kinetic impact- Maddrox normally creates new dupes by clicking his fingers or stamping his feet, although strong impacts can cause him to create dupes unintentionally.
In his first appearances, Maddrox’s dupes were exact copies of the original (Jamie ‘Prime’). Although he could not control them, they generally had no objection to being re-absorbed by Maddrox, as their new knowledge and experience would also be re-integrated. Maddrox has sent dupes all over the world, acquiring new knowledge that would take several lifetimes for a regular guy to accumulate. He has therefore ‘lived’ several lives, held hundreds of jobs, been a secret agent, a Shaolin monk and an Episcopalian priest.
Over time, however, Maddrox’s powers have developed in a slightly more schizoid direction. The constant re-absorption of memories has left some confusion over what Maddrox has actually done, and what his dupes are responsible for. Some of his dupes have clamoured for more independence, refusing to be assimilated into Jamie Prime. Most recently, his powers have begun to have an alarming side effect- the dupes that emerge are no longer complete copies of his personality. Instead they represent a random side of his psyche- his sense of guilt, or lust, or bravery etc. Maddrox has sent a dupe to talk down a suicidal colleague, unaware that the dupe typified his sense of the perverse. The dupe succeeded in calming the jumper down, and then booted him off the roof himself, just for the yucks.
But Joshua, I’m going to pretend I hear you cry, what has all this to do with character? And thank you so much for ruining the entire story for me!
Well, my sarky friend (I do apologise for having both sides of the textual argument myself, this blog has me drunk with power), I shall tell you if you cease your needless interruptions.
It has taken the character of Jamie Maddrox more than twenty years to develop this interesting spin on multiple personality disorder. A little ironic then that the character of the Multiple Man could be used to represent shit characterisation in general. Jamie Prime might be a superbly realised character, but his dupes have become increasingly flat, one-dimensional.
It’s easy to boss the characters you create around. The poor chaps can’t fight back, after all (at least not with the threat of the delete button staring them in the face. I like to bring some drama to my creative process). So you can make their personalities suit the situation you create for them, and dictate their attributes as you see fit.
Except you can’t keep doing it. Or at least, you really shouldn’t, you dullard. People are infinitely adaptable, but those adaptations are based on the consistencies in your persona. These different sides of you exist in different proportions; you are not as brave as you are maudlin, as optimistic as you are sexually charged. The dupes sent out by Maddrox only really have one character attribute that defines their existence. That doesn’t work for anybody else.
It’s certainly tempting though! If you’ve got a plot niggle to work through, or you want to create a certain atmosphere, why not simply shift up the ratios in you character’s psyche? Make them a little more courageous, if you want them to navigate a dangerous situation to spur the action along. Got a big romantic resolution on the horizon? Shame your protagonist seems like such a shallow, insensitive prat. Why not add a little in, or take a bit away?
The result is your fictional avatar acting ‘out of character,’ something literary criticism has generally identified as a BAD THING. Good (or at least famous) writers constantly talk about characters dictating the narrative, and this seems to by why. When you create a person in print, you are aiming for Jamie Prime- the original, rather than a series of dupes, dominated by traits that are convenient, rather than convincing.
I included Multiple Man in this post because he fits in cleverly with my point, but also because he’s a well created character, despite the obvious inconstancies in his psyche. His dupes might be one dimensional, but that flatness is carefully controlled as part of the plot, rather that simply to allow it.
Wednesday 17 June 2009
Cassetteboy and more
New post tomorrow about comic books. So, y'know, get ready for that shit to drop.
In other news, the 'Blogs I like list' is filling up a bit, but not so fast, and not with any direction. Help me out, people? And check out the cassetteboy videos on youtube if you'd like a relatively simple but well produced giggle.
In other news, the 'Blogs I like list' is filling up a bit, but not so fast, and not with any direction. Help me out, people? And check out the cassetteboy videos on youtube if you'd like a relatively simple but well produced giggle.
Tuesday 9 June 2009
Redecorating
Well, it's certainly brighter in here now! I swear this is the last time I crib off Tom Nash's blogging notes, but the old layout was a little claustrophobic, with a lot of wasted space. There really aren't enough blogger templates to go around! Now the posts can spread out a little, and it's a bit easier to read, I think.
The sad fact is that I'm too much of a luddite to come up with a template of my own. I know the tools are out there, and it would be lovely to have a design that was unique, but in the mean time, I shall settle for this snazzy number.
To all those with better than poor computer skills, any help would be much appreciated!
The sad fact is that I'm too much of a luddite to come up with a template of my own. I know the tools are out there, and it would be lovely to have a design that was unique, but in the mean time, I shall settle for this snazzy number.
To all those with better than poor computer skills, any help would be much appreciated!
Monday 8 June 2009
The decay-dance
I plan to wax a little philosophical in this post, largely because I can’t think of anything funny to write about today. I ask two things in return: your thoughts on the topic below in comment form, and something amusing to talk about next week, I’m drowning here, people.
*****
It turns out, if you’re planning on staying out all night, doing a load of drugs, drinking a load of beer and dancing till you feel faint, a gurglingly spicy curry is not the best repast to begin with. I worked this out on Friday night as I boogied away to Jack Beats, trying to ignore the ominous rumblings from my protesting insides. Luckily the music was tip-top, enough to distract me from the A-level chemistry experiment taking place in my tummy.
I wasn’t the only one suffering, although my friends seemed to be coping better than I. It’s no secret that I have the stomach of a beaky pensioner, and I wasn’t particularly surprised that out of a fairly large group, only I had donned the garb of Sir Burps-alot. It got me thinking, though. (I get introspective when intoxicated. I can also dance and ponder at the same time, a talent of which I am immensely proud but am yet to successfully incorporate into a job interview.)
I was ruminating on the subject of decay, specifically wondering why my body chemistry was being less obliging than other peoples. Your digestive system is largely based on decay, as the bacteria that reside in your stomach tract happily get to work on your victuals. Although the concept of your meals getting progressively more mushy inside your intestines is not necessarily pleasant, what struck me is the necessity of decay in creation. You get the good stuff out by breaking other stuff down (hence why I was getting drunker by the minute).
This concept is hardly new. So says Wikipedia: “Decomposition refers to the process by which tissues of dead organisms break down into simpler forms of matter. Such a breakdown of dead organisms is essential for new growth and development of living organisms because it recycles the finite chemical constituents and frees up the limited physical space in the biome.” Even Wikipedia is quick to point out the positive aspects of decay, as basically there’s not enough shit in the universe to go around, and so recycling of resources is necessary. Plenty of people take comfort in the fact that even in death, their constituent atoms will find a new arrangement as another part of the universe. Not me though. I never plan on dying.
The fact that we are here at all is also down to decay. Every atom that exists in your body has existed for millions of years in thousands of other forms. All the heavier elements that currently reside in you were formed under intense heat in the hearts of stars, and shot out into the universe in the violence of a supernova. To quote Bill Bryson (as everybody should), “You are literally made of stardust.”
Decay is part of creation, therefore, but it’s not all gin and roses. The sad fact is that no system is immune; nothing is impervious to the forces of entropy. Everything breaks down eventually, and this means that no beautiful thing will last forever. Every object, every shaping of matter sentient life can devise will eventually fade away, which is a sobering thought. Nothing is permanent. And some things, clearly, are worth preserving, and existence will be all the poorer for their eventual loss. It seems increasingly likely that even our universe will one day sputter out, leaving nothingness behind. This is more of a bugger for me than for you, because as previously mentioned I plan on still being around at that point.
On the other hand, plenty of things do not deserve eternity. The universes tendency towards atrophy means that anything evil also has a limited shelf-life. Dictatorships need to be toppled, evil challenged. But if light ever truly goes out in the universe, what is left will not last forever. And maybe next time things will work out for the better. Decay means that we have a chance to try again, if not as individuals than as a species, and if not as a species then as a universal collective. 'Nothing last forever' could also mean 'nothing ever ends,' depending on how you chose to look at it.
Speaking of wickedness disappearing, I finally managed to sweat off the curry, and busted moves of increasing freshness till the sun came up. Something wonderful ended, was replaced by something slightly iffy, and provided the fuel for something even more wonderful (seriously, you haven't seen me dance). If that’s not an inspiring message, I don’t know what is.
*****
It turns out, if you’re planning on staying out all night, doing a load of drugs, drinking a load of beer and dancing till you feel faint, a gurglingly spicy curry is not the best repast to begin with. I worked this out on Friday night as I boogied away to Jack Beats, trying to ignore the ominous rumblings from my protesting insides. Luckily the music was tip-top, enough to distract me from the A-level chemistry experiment taking place in my tummy.
I wasn’t the only one suffering, although my friends seemed to be coping better than I. It’s no secret that I have the stomach of a beaky pensioner, and I wasn’t particularly surprised that out of a fairly large group, only I had donned the garb of Sir Burps-alot. It got me thinking, though. (I get introspective when intoxicated. I can also dance and ponder at the same time, a talent of which I am immensely proud but am yet to successfully incorporate into a job interview.)
I was ruminating on the subject of decay, specifically wondering why my body chemistry was being less obliging than other peoples. Your digestive system is largely based on decay, as the bacteria that reside in your stomach tract happily get to work on your victuals. Although the concept of your meals getting progressively more mushy inside your intestines is not necessarily pleasant, what struck me is the necessity of decay in creation. You get the good stuff out by breaking other stuff down (hence why I was getting drunker by the minute).
This concept is hardly new. So says Wikipedia: “Decomposition refers to the process by which tissues of dead organisms break down into simpler forms of matter. Such a breakdown of dead organisms is essential for new growth and development of living organisms because it recycles the finite chemical constituents and frees up the limited physical space in the biome.” Even Wikipedia is quick to point out the positive aspects of decay, as basically there’s not enough shit in the universe to go around, and so recycling of resources is necessary. Plenty of people take comfort in the fact that even in death, their constituent atoms will find a new arrangement as another part of the universe. Not me though. I never plan on dying.The fact that we are here at all is also down to decay. Every atom that exists in your body has existed for millions of years in thousands of other forms. All the heavier elements that currently reside in you were formed under intense heat in the hearts of stars, and shot out into the universe in the violence of a supernova. To quote Bill Bryson (as everybody should), “You are literally made of stardust.”
Decay is part of creation, therefore, but it’s not all gin and roses. The sad fact is that no system is immune; nothing is impervious to the forces of entropy. Everything breaks down eventually, and this means that no beautiful thing will last forever. Every object, every shaping of matter sentient life can devise will eventually fade away, which is a sobering thought. Nothing is permanent. And some things, clearly, are worth preserving, and existence will be all the poorer for their eventual loss. It seems increasingly likely that even our universe will one day sputter out, leaving nothingness behind. This is more of a bugger for me than for you, because as previously mentioned I plan on still being around at that point.
On the other hand, plenty of things do not deserve eternity. The universes tendency towards atrophy means that anything evil also has a limited shelf-life. Dictatorships need to be toppled, evil challenged. But if light ever truly goes out in the universe, what is left will not last forever. And maybe next time things will work out for the better. Decay means that we have a chance to try again, if not as individuals than as a species, and if not as a species then as a universal collective. 'Nothing last forever' could also mean 'nothing ever ends,' depending on how you chose to look at it.
Speaking of wickedness disappearing, I finally managed to sweat off the curry, and busted moves of increasing freshness till the sun came up. Something wonderful ended, was replaced by something slightly iffy, and provided the fuel for something even more wonderful (seriously, you haven't seen me dance). If that’s not an inspiring message, I don’t know what is.
Clean bill of health
‘Supp fools. Welcome back. Before we begin, thank you for bearing with me while I was away. There will be another post tomorrow to show my gratitude. Secondly, this post may get edited over the next few days, and I doubt I’ll be indicating those edits. The reason: it’s been a busy week and I’m exhausted, and this post might be a little scrappy. I’d really like to fix any problems I find when I read over it later. However, I also want to stick to some sort of schedule with this blog- I don’t want to miss my updates without a solid reason, and I don’t count being sleepy and having left it too late as good enough. So, on with the show.
*******
I return from Thailand tanned, lithe, smug and most importantly: free from hepatitis A. This disease, like other strains of hepatitis, causes inflammation of the liver, but is generally self-limiting and rarely serious. On the other hand, it can lead to fatigue, fever, abdominal pain, nausea, diarrhoea, depression, jaundice, loss of weight and itching (the level of itching is not specified by Wikipedia, which makes it all the more sinister). So hepatitis is clearly no picnic, unless your picnic basket only contains neat vodka, rotten meat and rainwater.
Hepatitis A is not a real problem in most of Europe, because not only is the body capable of dealing with the infection in the short term, it also produces antibodies to stop you contracting the disease again. This is one of the small but myriad miracles that your body performs for you for no extra charge. You don’t even have to ask your brain nicely. Actually contracting hep A is also rare in Europe. It is borne in food and drink, and is largely transmitted by faecal contact, so good food hygiene and clean water supplies can keep it at bay. In other parts of the world, like Thailand, it is more common, but visitors to these countries can receive inoculations to prevent them contracting the malady. Unless, like yours truly, you completely forget and fail to get any injections whatsoever.
My name is Joshua, and I am a hypochondriac. I don’t go to the support meetings because I’m afraid I’ll catch something. I tried to remain nonchalant about the whole thing, but secretly was convinced that I would spend most of my trip prostrate in an under-equipped medical facility, deciding what to spend my insurance money on (it would have been beer and sandwiches, like always).
Despite my medical irresponsibility I came back in perfect health (although I hope your understanding of ‘perfect’ is a little fluid). The realisation that I could have fallen ill made me appreciate my well-being all the more. So far, so yadda yadda yadda. I could’ve got ill, and I didn’t. Big whoop, wanna fight about it? The above story made me realise, however, how little we really have to worry about in comparison to the past, and how little that really matters in the present day.
That came off a little happy-clappy; let me elucidate. In the Western world we are shielded from most of the diseases that plagued all those boring old people. We are protected from the elements, from hunger and… oh, I don’t know, bears and stuff. But without experience of those problems, the relief we might feel at this higher standard of living is reduced. The crap we actually have to deal with is also largely forgotten, as we rationalise the risk in order to deal with our everyday lives. I don’t worry unduly about getting hit by a car (although it’s different for me, I have the reflexes of a cat). I doubt most Thais are kept awake by the threat of hep A.
What’s really scary? Novelty. I was probably more likely to get run over on my way to the airport than catch a foreign disease. I could scald myself to death boiling the kettle. But introduce a new threat and I was petrified. What is new is frightening, at least in the short term. Swine flu probably won’t wipe out the human race (if this has already happened and you are reading this from the future, I apologise. If I didn’t make it, you can have my Xbox) and as time goes by, the panic will subside. The threat won’t really have disappeared, but anxiety is difficult to sustain without new evidence.
So next time I’m worried about something, I’m going to ask myself a few questions. Is what I’m frightened of really a huge risk, or is it merely something I have yet to encounter? Are my new fears comparably small, compared to what I put up with on a daily basis? And most importantly… is there something I can do to reduce the problem, and have a better time in the process? I mean really, who forgets their vaccinations? What a fucking idiot.
*******
I return from Thailand tanned, lithe, smug and most importantly: free from hepatitis A. This disease, like other strains of hepatitis, causes inflammation of the liver, but is generally self-limiting and rarely serious. On the other hand, it can lead to fatigue, fever, abdominal pain, nausea, diarrhoea, depression, jaundice, loss of weight and itching (the level of itching is not specified by Wikipedia, which makes it all the more sinister). So hepatitis is clearly no picnic, unless your picnic basket only contains neat vodka, rotten meat and rainwater.
Hepatitis A is not a real problem in most of Europe, because not only is the body capable of dealing with the infection in the short term, it also produces antibodies to stop you contracting the disease again. This is one of the small but myriad miracles that your body performs for you for no extra charge. You don’t even have to ask your brain nicely. Actually contracting hep A is also rare in Europe. It is borne in food and drink, and is largely transmitted by faecal contact, so good food hygiene and clean water supplies can keep it at bay. In other parts of the world, like Thailand, it is more common, but visitors to these countries can receive inoculations to prevent them contracting the malady. Unless, like yours truly, you completely forget and fail to get any injections whatsoever.
My name is Joshua, and I am a hypochondriac. I don’t go to the support meetings because I’m afraid I’ll catch something. I tried to remain nonchalant about the whole thing, but secretly was convinced that I would spend most of my trip prostrate in an under-equipped medical facility, deciding what to spend my insurance money on (it would have been beer and sandwiches, like always).
Despite my medical irresponsibility I came back in perfect health (although I hope your understanding of ‘perfect’ is a little fluid). The realisation that I could have fallen ill made me appreciate my well-being all the more. So far, so yadda yadda yadda. I could’ve got ill, and I didn’t. Big whoop, wanna fight about it? The above story made me realise, however, how little we really have to worry about in comparison to the past, and how little that really matters in the present day.
That came off a little happy-clappy; let me elucidate. In the Western world we are shielded from most of the diseases that plagued all those boring old people. We are protected from the elements, from hunger and… oh, I don’t know, bears and stuff. But without experience of those problems, the relief we might feel at this higher standard of living is reduced. The crap we actually have to deal with is also largely forgotten, as we rationalise the risk in order to deal with our everyday lives. I don’t worry unduly about getting hit by a car (although it’s different for me, I have the reflexes of a cat). I doubt most Thais are kept awake by the threat of hep A.
What’s really scary? Novelty. I was probably more likely to get run over on my way to the airport than catch a foreign disease. I could scald myself to death boiling the kettle. But introduce a new threat and I was petrified. What is new is frightening, at least in the short term. Swine flu probably won’t wipe out the human race (if this has already happened and you are reading this from the future, I apologise. If I didn’t make it, you can have my Xbox) and as time goes by, the panic will subside. The threat won’t really have disappeared, but anxiety is difficult to sustain without new evidence.
So next time I’m worried about something, I’m going to ask myself a few questions. Is what I’m frightened of really a huge risk, or is it merely something I have yet to encounter? Are my new fears comparably small, compared to what I put up with on a daily basis? And most importantly… is there something I can do to reduce the problem, and have a better time in the process? I mean really, who forgets their vaccinations? What a fucking idiot.
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