Snow on snow, on snow, on snow, and so on

So I was in midnight mass, wondering why people still play In The Bleak Midwinter when it is by far and away and without a shadow of a doubt one of the worst Christmas carols ever because of awful lyrics and absolute lack of sense of rhythm, and I felt like writing a short Night Before Christmas-esque poem before Christmas. Problem was I didn't have a plot or anything, except for the very last line, which went as such:

...The hand of my loved one and some festive red snow

That was referring to the fact that there would be blood on the snow, because the person in the poem kills his loved one. You know, because of the Christmas spirit and all.

I got a dartboard and two calendars for Christmas, and some other stuff. I wasn't expecting to get a dartboard. I have nowhere to hang it, and my room is very small so have no room to throw the darts. Still, it's a pretty sweet dartboard. I'll bring it with me to Sheffield in September. (Can't do it now, cos I can't put it in my suitcase). 

Time to watch me some Russel Howard's Good News. Then sleep. I am very tired and the Christmas goose was delicious. 

Christmas Countdown: Say whaaaaaaaat?

Insert Candle/Count Dracula Pun Here (Because I can't think of one)

OK, I have one of three assignments done. I have to hand them in on Thursday. I'm pretty certain' I'll manage. This is what it looks like. Now for a tiny bit of relaxing before I get into finishing this essay on Batman. 

On Friday I'm going all the way back to Cornwall to celebrate Christmas (WOOOO) with my family, but I'll be stopping off at my sister's in Plymouth on the way, and get a lift with her for the rest of the journey. Huzzah, it's almost Christmas. Oh, shit, I need to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Thrills and krill all around.

I want to write an email Christmas card with some sort of story on it, but I don't think I'll have the time. I've been trying to get Scroogical finished for like two years. Bastard thing just won't let itself be finished.

OK, goodnight blog. I'm going to carry on writing by the dim light of my Dracula candle that Wilson bought me the other day, because it was going cheap and its head was almost cut off.

No worry for that anymore, though

Christmas Countdown:  12 motherfuck'n days

Bluh Bluh Black Sheep

Today, I tried to update my blog in Japanese. Then I realised I didn't know much of the vocab or anything and wasn't bothered looking it up. I could have done "今日は, blogが 日本語to try to update が、できません" but that would have looked stupid.

I'm almost done with that wretched animation. I'll post it up here when I'm done. It probably would be if I didn't end up spending all my time watching Whose Line is it Anyway which is still like the best thing on TV, if it was still on TV. 

It's gonna be one of those blog entries where I start it because there's something I wanted to say or something, then I forget and up rambling on. Bluh. I kinda want to write a letter to Future me, like they did in last night's How I Met Your Mother. It would be kurazy. 


I'm going home in a week for Christmas. Woo (but also, shit! because I have no work completed)! I still haven't printed off my ticket. But I have no presents to give to any one and that kind of annoys me. Last year I bought them all in like September, mainly because I happened along a bunch of shit in the shop and thought "well why not. I have money now".  That and the cool tshirt I got my sister was going 2 for £20 and I wanted the Joker one for myself. 

OK I'm going to go to bed, now. Because it's late and last time it was this late I didn't end up sleeping at all, and then I went to bed at 10pm the following night and woke up at half past fucking one. Thrills.

Countdown to Christmas: Oh, I don't know. Figure it out yourself

Sometimes you just wonder

The rain it raineth on the just, And also on the unjust fella. But chiefly on the just, because. The unjust hath the just's umbrella.

Argh, it's four in the morning again. I need to break this habit by Christmas or Santa won't come around and give me presents. That and I'll piss everyone in my house off with my loud music and Buffy episodes.

I totally blame the fact that I have no more early starts and can therefore change my entire sleep schedule and move it forward 4 or 5 hours without affecting my classes or anything. I probably wouldn't recommend it, though. I've been up writing though, and I'm getting a fair bit into Dial M 2 now, which I thought would never take off. That and I've been planning that Lullabies story I told you about last time. 

Things are looking pretty good.

Except for our lessons on Monday and Tuesday. Our teacher barely seems to have a lesson plan, shows us awful videos then lets us go. Today, after discussing our marks individually (leaving everyone else to do nothing in the process), he talked about this film he wants to make about a ninja assassin girl from Leeds of all places who is the Chosen One  and goes to Malaysia. There's no plot. All he said was that he wanted a ninja girl from Leeds who was the Chosen one and that it would have parallel dimensions and people from the future  And everyone was like "Is this man mad or something?" Then we spent half an hour discussing with him what we felt, only if we really told him he we felt about this ridiculous project he wants us to work on then we'd probably have been thrown off the course of something. I was incredibly close to shouting how absolutely fucking ridiculous the whole thing was.

Oh, and it's not set in our world. Apparently not, anyway.

Countdown to Christmas: 3 weeks, 3 days!

The things you just do

I've been up for a little more than twelve hours, which is a bit bad, considering it's almost three in the morning. It's raining, and it's almost Christmas and everything's jolly and nice. I like this. It puts me in the mood for writing. That and Regina Spektor.

I've started another story. As I always say I'm going to actually finish this one. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

It's called Lullabies for the Sleep Deprived which I still can't decide whether or not it sounds good or not. I'm keeping it for now. It's going to be a series of short stories or something about people in this city, who are all sleep deprived and going to this bar and all have issues. It's jolly good fun. 

This segment here's called Things you just do because I can't think of anything else, and it sounds quite Neil Gaiman-y


The band playing was fairly unknown, but their music was pleasant. Jay looked around him at the people in Woo’s. He could recognise most of them; not that he had ever met or seen them before, but because he knew their faces. The same sort of people went into Woo’s, all the time. He knew that. He sketched them all the time. Kept a small diary, more or less. That girl on his left, the one stirring her tall drink with the little plastic stirer that came with it, looking at the people around her suspiciously, avoiding their direct glances. Her hair was cut short, and given streaks the colour of rust. Her eyeliner wasn’t applied very well and he could see faded scars on her arm, where her long sleeves fell back. He flipped through his small book to the pages he had titled “going back to normal”, and tried to draw her, before she turned her back on him because of whatever it was that was happening elsewhere that she found more interesting. Jay hated it when people did that. At least give him time to finish an outline of the person.    He scribbled it out.    The band changed songs    There was the Man with the Past in front of him. He was alone, as well. Most of the people at Woo’s drank alone. The Man with the Past sat and drank a whiskey or a beer, while glancing around him, as if whatever it was from his Past would come back and bug him while he drank. The Man with the Past’s main characteristic was his inability to trust people and his eventual distancing from society’s norms. It didn’t matter what his Past was. It was his Present that was affected, and that was what he shaped himself as. Jay didn't draw people with Pasts much, mainly becuase he would get too carried away and end up making them look like Nick Nolte with scars over their eyes.   There was the the Couple. They were boring. It was the sort of shallow relationship start where both party members would show their love by making stupid kissy faces to one another, and talk in a way that would get them shunned out of everything else. Relationships made people act like idiots. No. It was love. It’s always the love, or rather, Jay corrected himself, the need for love. He smiled briefly at them and shifted in his seat to see the other people in the room. He couldn’t see anyone else very well, so he reached for his glass of vodka-pepsi.   It was empty.   Fuck it, Jay thought. He stood up, put on his coat, pocketed his sketchbook and pencil, and left the bar.


There were about twenty-three years’ worth of memories that Jay could have been erasing at Woo’s. There was nothing he particularly wanted to forget, but it seemed that drinking made things a lot easier. It was probably a good thing he couldn’t afford to do it very often; he probably would have become an alcoholic, which wasn't his style at all.     He decided to walk the long way, because the long way had better lights, and the lights helped him think. He wanted to think

-------------- That's it so far. I quite like it. It's going to involve him meeting up with this ltitle girl who's ran away from home or something, and they form this nice older-brother relationship or something. Then I'll move onto the story about the crazy man who yells things in his sleep.

I'm totally in a writing vendetta mood. I'm gonna hunt down all the unfinished stories, and I'm gonna finish them off. This time .... it's personal.

I hope I get the new Terry Pratchett book for Christmas. I've been putting off buying it for myself for just that reason. It looks absolutely awesome, because it's a Discworld book and I haven't read a new Discworld book in about two years. Am very excited.


Coutdown: 3 weeks, 5 days



I started writing this some time ago, I may have mentioned it in a post at some point. I hope to finish it by Christmas, but I never seem to get any of it done ever and so I just leave it be. SCROOGICAL Ebenezer sat down at his old writing desk When at the door knocked Edmund Harrison, esq. Scrooge opened the door to a faceful of tin Which, when it was shook, made a metallic din “What do you want, I’m a damned busy man!” He battered away the old donation can “We would kindly accept any cash for the poor.” “No,” Scrooge replied, and he slammed shut the door “Something for nothing!” he cried to the wall “All this money I have, I worked for it all. “And they want me to give it – they’re taking the piss! “My old partner’d be sick if he heard about this!” Ebenezer had cash, and he had bloody loads The gold stuff was piling up in his abode He didn’t like sharing, the stingy old git And never would he give a penny of it Bob Cratchet looked up from his book of accounts “Surely you can give them a little amount. “It’s a time for giving, it’s Christmas, be nice!” Scrooge looked at him coldly and cursed once or twice “On the subject,” said Bob, “Can I ask that I may “Be with my family for Christmas day?” “You want a day off?” Scrooge choked on his words He couldn’t believe what he thought he just heard It took Bob some talking, but Scrooge finally caved “You go, but remember your wage will be waved.” The sun soon went down and the old arse went home Put striped jammies on, and a cap on his dome He got into bed, and blew out the light When a clink from downstairs made him sit up in fright His eyes went all wide when he saw the bright shape He watched it walk in, his eyes all agape


It stops here. I have four ghosts to write about, still, and a new funny ending to consider, too. It'll probably take me the remaining 6 months of the year to figure that out. Maybe I'll be done by Christmas next year