When always falling out of moving cars,

The fading stars smirk awkwardly inwards,

Syntax errors cover the windows,

Everyone ducks for comfort and shelter,

A one night stand with a one legged care,

Mixing broken hymenites with purgatory gazes,

A broken sigh of heaving traffic lies,

Flies that glitter drowning in the ointment.

Fade to coloured snare rush bringing blood rush,

While always slipping onto razor covered floors,

Full to the brim with viral virtuosity,

A paragraph breaks into sharpened shards,

All cuts and scrapes and grammatical gristle,

They soldier on in queues for queues sake,

Preserve a common little cesspit culture,

Human waste that glitters on anointment.

Most mornings when I have nothing to do, I sit and flick through television. Today was no exception, as I sat down, squinting blurry-eyed at my idiot box. Unlike most days however, I felt venomous. After my daily fix of children’s programming I decided I was awake enough to research some current affairs. First stop- BBC’s “Breakfast”. What was the hot topic then? The Zimbabwe elections? The mysterious feet washing up on the shores of Canada? The Lisbon Treaty? No, don’t be so stupid. Today’s most important topic was how to make the perfect cheese sandwich. I mean, I know it’s a serious topic and people are divided over it, but I think they handled it well, definitely a matter of urgency and importance. Well; everyone already knows about Iraq and that the Government are often cheeky chappies right? Why run the same stories just because they develop a little bit? What we do not know, however, is how much butter to spread on to keep our bread moist but not overpower the cheese.

Okay then, my sarcasm is about as well hidden as a giraffe in Siberia, but it raises a serious point- when did everything become so bloody trivial? Last time I checked the information age was in full swing with access to all sorts of knowledge and materials easier than ever. Pretty much every advanced country has access to the World Wide Web and it's seemingly endless supplies of information. I know that I’m a bitter cynic who thinks everything is made of bullshit and lies, but I generally think the internet is a great thing…partially. The chance of falsities and Chinese whispers aside, the web is probably the most liberating thing to come along from an educational standpoint. If you know how to check your sources properly you can learn almost anything you want at any time. If you want to study classic literature, learn how to deconstruct Dali paintings, or just learn the best tips for gluing together Airfix kits, it’s all here. However, instead of being the revolutionary wave it rightly should be, human nature weighs in and turns it all to piddle.

For everything worthwhile; there’s ten more sites dedicated to Orlando Bloom’s latest fungal foot infection, or Angelina Jolie’s latest pick and mix baby. The horror of all this is that most folks lap it up. Now, I’m no killjoy. I like to have fun with the internet as much as anyone. I enjoy a good laugh on Youtube, various message boards and like to keep in touch with friends, but I still see the net as an opportunity to better myself. Instead of learning about the way politics and history and the world works, we learn about Britney’s cellulite. Instead of forming opinions we form vapid, useless blogs all about how cute the shit from Primark makes us look. It’s like a disease that’s spreading fast. The source of infection started in the glossy magazines, the type with lots of pictures and as little text as possible. The infection spread to the already garbage tabloid newspapers. Populist clap-traps like the Sun and the Mirror have more celebrity scandal and trivial pieces on Britain’s favourite pie, than actual news these days. The final victim is television news. Most major networks are a shadow of their former selves, a sad juxtaposition of daytime chat and news that isn’t really that newsworthy.

If you don’t believe me see for yourself. I saw more stories on the latest movie releases this morning and about cheese sandwiches, than I did actual news. Then; in between all of this, they bring out some D list wannabe or a so called ‘cultural expert’ to talk about the same pointless guff that they’ve been hammering on about for the last hour. I know, I sound like a party pooper but I’m not. I like a bit of a laugh just like anyone. In fact, here I think I should give a shout out to one of the only news programmes that still keeps their feet on the ground. Which one? Why, Channel 4 news of course. Just last night I saw Channel 4 merge their professionalism with light hearted humour. The case in question is the much debated Lisbon Treaty, although Channel 4 delivered the facts in an informative way, they threw the boot in and referred to Monty Python’s classic “Dead Parrot” sketch, comparing it to the treaty. This really put a smile on my face and I thought; ‘why can’t it all be like this’? Sure, they had experts on the show, but they were discussing the economy, not Kate Moss.

The thing that’s most shocking is, as I mentioned before, we live in the information age and an age of opportunity. This means that journalists have incredible chances, in regards to keeping abreast of everything that’s going on in the world and delivering it back to the people. The fact that this is being squandered is a sad thing as, from a journalistic standpoint, it’s an actual DUTY to deliver truth to people. Instead we get peddled bullshit with a slight hint of real news, just to satisfy advisory boards. However, the people get what the people want, so it all rests on our heads. That won’t matter soon though; as the glossy section of our brains will engulf anything else that matters and then the party will really get started. Just imagine the day when all war is over, all natural disasters stopped. Imagine the day when we don’t have to watch people suffering on the television. They’ll still be there of course; it’s just that Keira Knightley’s face reduction will be the only thing that matters. That, my friends, is true progress. Who said ignorance wasn’t fucking bliss? 

You can find more articles, just as bitter and twisted as this one, at www.myspace.com/madandenglish . Coming very soon.

Current Mood: aggravated

55 fiction is basically just short fiction that consists of 55 words of less. All these below are exactly 55 words and serve as an experiment for a project that I have in mind for the future.


With the wires trailing across the floor and the shattered pictures gazing on with glass filled eyes, Henry bit his tongue. As warm fluid filled his mouth and trickled down his tar-caked oesophagus, he let out a wry smile. Counting to five, he drew breath before jumping. They say the final step is the hardest.

The cigarette had long burnt out and the rot had already started setting in. Twenty years wallowing in shit and she had finally snapped. She pulled out the hacksaw and tenderly separated arm from socket, the first time they had parted in forty years. One for the road she thought, stuffing it in her bag.

The ground starts to blister as the hum gets louder and louder. Eyeballs burst, ear drums ruptured and madness is abound. The warning should have been enough but now things have to go further. As the unearthly cry rumbles across the globe we observe from our nest of safety. Everything is dying, and rightly so.

The only thing running through my mind was the concrete beneath the overpass. For all my life I’ve always wondered what would happen if I had the guts, if I had the reserve to attempt to be something more worthwhile. Today I found out, God didn’t give me legs and certainly didn’t give me wings.

I like to think of myself as a giving person. I hate to see those suffering. That’s why I started working in medicine. The chance to save people every day is overwhelming. Today I helped another patient. I feel so warm inside as I stand over the bed, smiling as the life support fades away.

He was glad they fixed the pipes. The water started running smoothly from the tap and he smiled. A week without water had been a terrible inconvenience but everything was better now. As the water level rose he undressed quickly. He turned the taps off tightly to prevent overflow and locked himself inside the tank.

It gets boring writing labels all day, that’s what I do. The warehouse is huge, almost unfathomably huge. We look after valuable things, things that people have lost. Strangely they never come back for them. I stick some labels on the new jars, purely for reference of course, I mean most limbs look the same.

There’s an old saying, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” I’ve always lived by that and always been a gullible person. I’ve been ripped off a lot in my time by a lot of different people. Now they’re gonna have to rip out their teeth to identify the bodies.

In a single second, anything can happen. The Spark knows this and he knows his purpose. He wants to destroy. He needs to destroy. The smell of gas is getting too tempting and he’s almost ready to yield to the moment. Dreams of burn victims and wailing alarms fill his head and then- its time.

You know who you are.

You are the headlight at the end of my tunnel,
Hope on a razors edge staring right back,
I'd play chicken 'till my wishbone breaks,
Feeling public affectionate blisters inside.

Clipping limbs to stop escape or ache,
Frozen hearts kept in our burning throats,
I'd scream safety words into the night,
Tender jackboot toothless twisting smiles.

Grinding powdered soul into your hand,
Thrown into the wind and lost forever,
I'd vomit out paradise for just a moment,
But your gaze cuts like embittered scalpels.

If I could put a shattered finger on it,
If three words had never died,
If sense wasn't rotting in the garden,
If I could just say no. 

Yeah, Im not dead you fuckers. Sorry to dissapoint.


Time drifts inside,
Hourglass turns back in spite,
Another pointles twenty four pickup,
Forty two and still no luck.

Back in the box,
With wasted images spilling out,
Then time again for hands on clocks,
And every second stabs.

Purposefully lacking,
Backing onto to eternity,
The ticking and the tocking,
Binding every moments string.

And houses made of decks,
And decks still sinking under,
And atrophie of phantom limbs,
All locked so silent here within.

With true depths never plundered,
No minutes left for sin,
Another tossed asunder,
No chance of air- here under.

Was it staring at me?

Who?

You all know who. The bogey man. The shadow in the corner of your eye; the lone, quivering hair that stands up on the back of your neck. We all think about it now and again, especially if you’re as neurotic as I am. While in the bathroom, I tried not glancing at the mirror in case it was behind me. It’s a basic childhood fear that stays with us all really and was triggered in me tonight by reading a book (more on that later). But it all got me thinking, can a person drive themselves mad? Most likely, in most cases its usually ourselves and inability to cope with our ever changing environments; which can trigger us into running round Asda at 4 in the morning, trying to ram passers by with trolleys and warning them about the killer vampire gnomes that Maggie Thatcher is going to unleash on us all. 

Then I thought  more about the bogey man. Am I the bogey man really? Or are our parents the bogey man. Are the things we see and do the bogey man? Does it all add up into one disturbing little picture that’s so different between everyone and yet, so similar. It doesn’t really bear thinking about, certainly not when I’m almost touching midnight. I’m sure everyone has their own opinion anyway….or doesn’t give a shit. Either one really. So what triggered me was the immensely funny ‘Dawn of the Dumb’, a book by the immensely talented, albeit pessimistic Charlie Brooker. His insights delve between real life and television and somewhere in between. I urge anyone to buy it though, as long as you have more brains than the contents of a 25 pence mix bag. Don’t even think of whinging about how pricy paperbacks have become, I fucking know. It’s still better value than a DVD and if you shop around you can probably get it for cheap of Amazon. Don’t bother with Tesco’s though as it is in no way a bestseller so theres no chance of picking it up for a pocket friendly 4 quid. If you REALLY can’t afford it, just nick it from a high street book specialist. However, doing so may result in said robbery going horribly wrong; resulting in you killing a part time sales assistant with a copy of the Guinness Book of Records and having to spend thousands on plastic surgery when your mug appears on Crimewatch UK; thus a paradox is created in which it would have been far cheaper to buy the book in the first place and all you get to show for it is an eventual buggering. In prison.  Im waffling more than I was when I started though and that’s saying a lot so I leave you with a nice little thing I once heard off the Simpsons.

What is mind? No matter.

What is matter? Never mind.

 Today I got bored. Thus, I decided to vandalise Wikipedia. Enjoy.

Sickle cell stopwatch shootist,
Dying of guilt and various colour saturations,
Drowning in a temple of false prophets,
He walks down the holed up plaster parapet,
Clutching straws and holding back tears,
Bringing back the essence of nothing.

Empty spaces in his vision,
Patchwork soul rips in winds of war,
Loveless and lingering around the gallows,
Holes in shoes and holes in self respect,
Swings from beams and swings on the wind,
Taking back the essence of something.

Current Mood: crazy

 Sealed and air free,
Cracked and released,
Bringing down complete strangers,
On moving beasts of metal.

Touched deep in my soul,
Pushed into blacker holes,
Anti-matters and anti-cares,
Kiss the floor and feel relief.

Theres no bad blood,
Just a torrent of mistrust,
Swims leisurely 'round me,
Out of orbit and out of my mind.

Breaked or broken?
Unfixed to the wall,
Called out true intentions,
Pushed out true directions.

Current Mood: aggravated

The following is a review written as an assignment for my course. However, it is soon to be published in the next couple of days at http://the-usher.com enjoy.


El Topo (1970) 

Starring: Alejandro Jodorowski, Brontis Jodorowsky, Jaqueline Luis

Director: Alejandro Jodorowski

Running Time: 125 minutes

Certificate: 18 

Pros:

• Beautiful cinematography and a fantastic soundtrack.
• Unlike anything that has ever come before or after it.
• Fantastic storyline with hidden depth.
• A wealth of fantastic characters that add towards the film’s classic appeal.

Cons:

• Definitely not everyone’s cup of tea due to the high level of surrealism.
• Multi faceted storyline may confuse some viewers.

“Too much perfection is a mistake.” 

A mysterious gunslinger (Jodorowsky), aided by a small child attempts to avenge the massacre of a town. However, his quest for vengeance turns into a quest of self discovery and enlightenment when he rescues a mysterious woman who leads him through the desert to confront four gun masters. As our anti-hero proceeds through each new challenge, his mind is awakened to the dark shadow that has loomed above him all his life. It soon becomes clear that El Topo must do all he can to cleanse himself of his former sins. However can a man with such a bloody past really change his ways for the better?  

In 1970, Alejandro changed the face of cinema forever; unfortunately the rest of the world still hasn’t caught up.  

El Topo is a film of epic proportions and has a story to match. The core storyline tells an interesting; if not down right peculiar story of one man’s obsession and subsequent yearning for redemption which plays out with great pace. However the themes deployed in the story including the many spiritual and moral subtexts are what really make El Topo shine. Some truly memorable moments play out in the script such as El Topo’s showdown with the four gun masters, his showdown with his female alter-ego and his meeting with the bandit leader. All these moments are drenched in psychodelia and metaphor, giving a general feeling of confusion about the whole film. However the pacing of the script is so fluent that what could have just been chaos is turned into organised chaos. The most remarkable thing about El Topo’s story is that it works on so many different levels. On one hand it can be an entertaining, albeit, strange tale or it can be a giant allegory packed with allusions to every religion and philosophy under the sun. 

The main talent on show within El Topo is Jodorowsky himself. He plays a believable figure and his inner conflict and personal change is absolutely convincing. The other supporting actors range from talented and unique to dismal and ten a penny. Another striking feature about El Topo is that many of its best performances are delivered in total silence. As with cult sci-fi hit ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’, El Topo has a very spartan use of dialogue. Jodorowsky himself has often stated that he only uses dialogue in places images can not tell the story completely. It’s this approach that highlights the truly sterling performances within the film, with fantastic body language, especially among key characters. This also happens to highlight El Topo’s gorgeous aesthetics. In short El Topo looks fantastic.  

Beautiful landscapes juxtaposed with surrealist imagery have an extremely poignant effect within the film creating a bizarre world reminiscent of nothing before. Throughout the film Jodorowsky also wears his influences on his sleeve as we see moments reminiscent of Brunel and Bergman shining through the director’s unique vision. Any gore enthusiasts will also be pleased to hear that El Topo has a layer of gritty realism underneath its far-out aesthetics too with blood practically flowing off the screen, particularly in the early chapters of the film. However the violence and sexual content of this movie never overshadows the beautiful cinematography that makes El Topo a true assault on the senses. 

El Topo is not a film that will cater for everyone. Many have accused the film of trying to be all things to all people and in a sense, it does. There is so much going on in this movie that it is never truly appreciated until its third or fourth viewing, but when things click, it’s clear to see that El Topo is a much overlooked masterpiece and quite possibly one of the most important films of the 20^th century. This is what cinema was meant to be before Hollywood stuck a muzzle on it. However, if you’re bored of the same old thing then El Topo may just be the old dog that can teach you a few new tricks.

Feature Rating:

***** 

DVD Extras

Picture and Sound

The film is presented in a 1.33:1 aspect ratio with a Spanish Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack (Subtitled). The transfer of the film is phenomenal and probably one of the best restoration jobs ever put onto DVD.  
 
 

Bonus Features:

Commentary from Director Alejandro Jodorowsky

Presented on the DVD in Spanish with subtitles, this commentary is a fantastic insight into the film. Aside from talking about the story behind El Topo, Jodorowsky gives insight into his rationale behind some of the films more confusing scenes, making the viewer’s job much easier. Jodorowsky also delves into the symbolism he used and goes into detail about the reaction towards this film on its initial release. The most striking thing about the commentary; is that it is truly entertaining and informative and really earns its place on the DVD. Anyone who is interested in the deeper aspects of this film will greatly appreciate this commentary. 

2.0 English Dub Track

The dub is purely on the DVD for completists’ sake as the film is without a doubt best viewed in its native tongue. However, the dub track on offer is so hilariously over the top and melodramatic that it fits Jodorowsky’s masterpiece very well. This at least makes the film worth viewing with this alternate soundtrack at least once. Watching with the dub however, will negate the beautiful 5.1 audio mix; which will be substituted for a decent stereo track that pales in comparison to the beautiful sounds of the original mix. 

‘Jodorowsky on El Topo’ featurette (6.57 mins)

This featurette consists of a short interview with Jodorowsky, in which he talks about the history of El Topo and how it was received by the world. Although the interview is very interesting Jodorowsky mentions a lot of this already on the feature commentary, which turns most of this feature into filler. 

Theatrical Trailer (3.55 mins)

The original 1970 movie trailer is shown here, in an unrestored presentation. This feature is interesting to watch just to see how remarkable the restoration to the actual feature has been. 

Overall:

While low on extras the quality of the ones contained make the package worthwhile, especially Jodorowsky’s stellar feature commentary, which is probably one the best recorded. The main draw to this DVD is the astonishing new transfer and sound which is nothing short of miraculous. The amount of work gone into preparing this film for redistribution was obviously monumental. As such this more than makes up for the lack of other decent extras and still makes the disc a worthwhile purchase, with what is in essence, one of the best remasters of a film since the first Star Wars movie in 1997.

DVD Rating:

*** 

Im sick of jumping ships,
Just to swim towards a black shore,
Im tired of escaping this,
Just to end up in a bigger cell.

All keys have bigger locks,
Wrapped with bows in bigger boxes,
Outfoxed, outclassed and so obnoxious,
Concrete blisters on the wavelengths.
All words devoid of meaning,
Nice detatched with higher cielings,
Broken, bottled and still boasting,
Thoughtless gifts scattered on the pavements.

Im bored of biting lips,
Just for tongues to give the ghost,
Im done with hiding it,
Just to keep myself from hell. 

Current Mood: bored

 Something of a conclusion to a story I started waaaay back.

The Deception of Spring: Boot Leather Bill.

Mister No Name walks with no shame and plants his arse right down on the stool. He’s been coming here for over a month and he still wears a Cheshire spawned smile. Self righteous bastard. There’s a Bono-esque cunt if I ever saw one. He loves the attention though. He’s telling them all that he’s going to start his ‘new life’ in a couple of weeks. He was saying that a couple of weeks ago. Boy be full o’ shit that’s what I think. No one listens to fuckin’ old Bill though. I’m just a sad, old, twat; ending his last days at the bottom of a glass. I pick up me glass tankard and grin. Watching the little shit through good eye, the glass of the other reflecting in the dim neon coming from a sign behind the bar. I look at me cracked and dirty finger nails. It’s been months since the boys got to taste any blood and I’ve been harsh on ‘em. Well mister no name is going to give ‘em a lot of fuckin’ pleasure I can tell you that. I wait for another couple of hours, while he gets shitfaced and I sober up a bit more. He stands up and says goodbye to everyone around the bloody bar. The daft ponce thinks they actually like him. I follow him out into the cold and the rain, he’s too off his head to realise something fishy is going down.

I follow him down into the tenfoot and he stops for a piss. I level him with a right handed lightning bolt and he crumples like a sack of shite. I give him a couple of hard kicks to the more tender parts of his stomach before I pull out my baby. I open her up and lick the blade before I crouch down and invade him six or seven times. I hit organs and empty space and sure enough I hear the cunt splutter. I lick the blade again and walk off calmly. Good night mister no name.

*

I feel the blood trickle out. The only thing cold on this night. Nothing new is starting. It never will. My eyes fix to the blue back door of one of the houses as I start to feel warmer and comfortable. So easy to just drift off. So easy….. Then there is blackness and the feint sound of sirens. Then. There. Is. Nothing.

*

I have a halo sticking in my eye. It’s ring shaped as you’d expect and it has a dull, yellowish-white glow. The smell of disinfectant runs up my nostril and makes me more alert...

I'm no artist,
But this heart bleeds black tar,
Hung up like my brightest sky,
Landscape like a field of stars,
Like landmines in the dark,
The dogs can smell the fear,
Rabid rampant ready for war,
No meat until the killing time,
Hides new moods on horizons,
Pantomime and fire to baptize,
Heralding dawns of the free,
Dirty demos kratos shedding old familliar skins,
Leather hide briefcases,
Papers of passionate hatred,
And a laced up boot snagged on the wire,
We look into the mirror but it always turns away.
How can our trust be wearing thin?
They always keep us safe. 

Speaker pushes,
Fuzz faced and displaced,
Lying dead on cobblestone,
Miles from salvation,
Minutes from the bite,
Catch like trapped door beetles,
Blue and black berry juice,
Through cracks and grates,
Mix through shit and sinews,
Fluidic finesse and drift,
Going back to the mouth,
The winding womb of life,
Choke on tongues and pupils dim,
Fingers twitch with nails scratching,
Baton bursting brain on brick,
Games of primary colours,
Claret fountain of misfortune,
Laced up with rope burn,
Jackboot crushes.
 

Focus until blind,
Out of focus and in a rut,
Feel it inside,
The cotton wool is firmly stuck.

Have a quiet word,
Cracked pursed poison lips,
Fumbling for light switches,
The great illusion always there.

Just hurry up and choose,
Or you might have time to think,
Dripping snake entrails,
Pacts with horns and hoofs.

Stringed harps surround,
No angels to be seen though,
Loch Ness liberty,
Go back to sleep.

Masks out for the start of something,
Calling on the stabbing months eyes,
Talking cheap and dirty,
Wash your mouth out or you'll die,
Take a pill of fear,
Take a handcuff to desk,
Just sit back and smile,
They will do the rest.

Touch the smile that cracks like bones,
Under tanks of cutthroat freedoms,
Grab your positivity,
More than can shake the screen,
Hands up,
Forhead touch,
Back down,
And down,
And down.

Phermone blitz,
Like sledgehammer hits,
And I cant remember identity's face,
Spinning brains,
Swimming games,
Monsterous... anything but tame.
Cut and paste,
An ideal day,
Turned upside down and crushed,
Touch paper to flame,
Circles of pain,
And eyes blur to the symphony,
Inner change,
Loose change,
Won't change,
Not for days.