Winter is Coming

The memories of softly spoken, cold tomb stones in a cemetery broken and now the door smashed open and in pours the snow, crystals of ice too delicate to know… but I kno… Why can’t I forget? ..


Rate your MP – apparently in more ways than one…

Stumbled across a site the other day, linked by the BBC news page but doesn’t seem to be getting that many hits. Then again the site always seems to be struggling to someone is on there..

Check it out, its where you rate MPs in terms of how attractive you think they are.

Is it infantile and maybe in bad taste? Yes. Are you curious and going to have a look? Yes.

The Death of Supermania – Smallville Part II

But then they took it a stage further and decided to replace Chloe with Supergirl. And this is how they did it:

And it just continued from there… this character was written worse than Lois and considering that was so bad, it really made a statement.

Eventually they just failed.

And what do I remember of it all? An actress who featured in an episode called Skinwalker. That is all the memory I take with me.

The Death of Supermania – Smallville Part I

So it was the final of Smallville a couple of weeks ago. I thought about doing something for the end, but the ending was so bad I was simply not motivated. Nothing much has changed, I still don’t feel motivated about it. So why am I now writing this? Because there are a few things that were good about the concept, but the series ended badly and the new film will go the same way.

Let me explain.

Firstly what did they get right about Smallville? Lana Lang. Here, this should help illustrate my point:

They took things in a new direction and they used someone who took over the screen. You would basically watch this show to look at this girl, how she would help Clark get on with things. Then it got a little old, by season 5 people wanted something new. And her character had been transformed into the new version.

She became too much, not a character but an actress on screen. The one things that they got right they made into something else. And then, they made the ultimate mistake. They decided that the problem was she wasn’t exciting viewers anymore. So, they decided to get someone else.

And this is how they introduced Lois Lane:

It was bad enough that they wrote her character like an idiot and it made no sense according to main story that she knew Clark in high school.

Someone show me how to use the gf2..

I have tried. I read the manual. I looked over all of the reviews I’d seen before I bought it, again and again, and now I’m trawling the net trying to get this sorted before I have to go back to work next week.

I need to master it by the Seventh of May. This is something like a mesage in a bottle, but any help would be nice.

Or at least before my girlfriend masters it – we are a little competitive about these things!..

The Game of Thrones

Earlier this evening I watched the HBO’s pilot for The Game of Thrones. I had no idea it was set in a fantasy world. Had no idea it was based on a book. Had no idea it would be that good or that complex. Or that Lena Headey was in it.

But it made no difference. It resonated. I saw what they were trying to achieve and I loved the craft of trying to communicate that to the viewer. Of all things to be a writer, you need to have something to say. Something you want to share. Something worth sharing. But is an ideal enough for this?

Around me at the moment there are vast moving cyclones. Anytime I pick up my phone or read an email it’s an element of it all. This is my work phone and my personal phone. My work email and my personal email. It’s like that scene in The Day After Tomorrow when all you see is 20 tornados in the background and you know the reporter is gonna get hit by something. (Turns out it’s a billboard).

Furthermore I’m used to it now. It used to be a problem not being able to switch off but now it’s a gift. The fact that I’m always processing information, always with a vice like grip on the facts. Always trying to find a solution.

And right now I’m playing my part in a game of thrones. Colleagues at work jostling for position. Families looking at what the best options are and seeking compromise. And somehow me. Do I want to do that article in the Mercury or not?

And I don’t know. But if The Game of Thrones has taught me anything it’s that you can’t see every angle from the pilot. You have to wait and see how the series plays out.

The only thing that’s certain these days is that Lena Headey looks good on TV and is still rocking the accent. Sometimes knowledge like that is enough. Sometimes..


Sons of Man and Quantum Physics..

All credit to original storyline and concept to Opus Cosmos – this is simply something we discussed – a re-telling of the story….

Sometimes a song sneaks it’s way into your mind. Crouches in the corners and then snakes itself around the furniture, dust covered objects and suddenly, its there, all you can see. Other songs stumble into the room like an oaf, knocking over items and shouting at you until you can’t hear anything else. It was difficult to have seen it sneak in, the sun was shining, the weather was good. Bob Marley would have required a disguise not to get a mention. The two men had planned this for as long as they could recall, and finally having struggled through their graduation, they were as far from home as they could afford to be. Bob was still somewhere in the background of the bar when Xavi and Pablo clinked glasses together and drank Tequila as if it had been the first.

“I’m glad we made it to Cancun man, sunshine, tequila and women worth more than a mention… yo bro, snap out of it” Pablo threw him a glance in response and sighed. “Yeah man, very true.” Xavi looked around the bar, trying to decide how to compare it to the images from the brochure. That had seemed like such a long time ago. He glanced at Pablo staring at the table, running his fungertips over the etched surface as a blind man would study brail. Pablo winced thinking he had caught a splinter – Xavi laughed at him, slapping him across the shoulder to gain his attention. Somewhere in the background there were the sounds of rolling waves.

Xavi caught the eye of the waitress emerging down some stairs at the far end of the bar, opposite them. He motioned for another two tequilas, she smiled obligingly and laid out empty glasses on the counter as she began to pour. She turned around to cut some slices of lemon when Xavi peeled his eyes away to survey the room. The air con wasn’t functioning very well – he thought of returning upstars to the hotel complex but upon seeing the waitress coming over with their drinks thought maybe not. He saw Pablo staring at the waitress and thought definately not.

Pablo had no idea what he was saying. Three classes of spanish in high school had been enough to convince him that real latino women were to be found in Mexico – not in classrooms. He spoke what he could to the waitress, this was a rare occasion where slurring his words slightly seemed to have a better effect on his attempts. It didn’t matter that he didn’t understand what the waitress was saying either – her accent was drizzled with tequila itself. She was a temptress, forty years of knowing what young men find alluring had made her an expert. Pablo had bought her four rounds and hadn’t even begun to notice it was having no effect on her. She disappeared upstairs for a moment and his eyes wandered after her. When they returned to the table, Xavi and he had been joined by another.

“You boys having a good time? You’re not from arond here are you?” It was something a club bouncer would say. And this mexican was huge. He was the type you’d see on billboards on the way to a resort showing you how workers had built a damn, or mined for gold or wrestled alligators. This Mexican could have been the bouncer to Hell’s gates themselves. Beads of sweat ran off his brow and down his arm. Xavi glanced around the room. There was no sign of Bob. Maybe he had headed off to find the ocean.

Pablo mumbled something. The timing was terrible, his eyes were following the waitress descending the steps. Maybe an optical illusion, maybe on purpose, maybe the alcohol and no one else knew – but the skirt looked shorter and the blouse tighter. Pablo let out a gasp that ended as a hiss. The Mexican bouncer at the table reached for his Corona and took a swig finishing it. He slowly but noticeably changed his grip to that he could bring it down anywhere in an arcing motion. Xavi and Pablo took a step back, Xavi about to make apologies for a misunderstanding – Pablo still standing transfixed with the lust in his eyes bathing the image of the waitress. Footsteps surrounded them. Shadows cast on the table and neither had to turn to confirm it was the Mexican’s friends from a corner table. For a moment there was silence.

Please check out the Opus Cosmos page for the original piece..

because words should move you…