My all-time favourite movies are as follows, in order of merit:
1. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy
2. V for Vendetta
3. Closer (the one starring Natalie Portman, Jude Law, Julia Roberts, and Clive Owen)
4. Batman Begins
5. Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith
6. Memento (the movie that went backwards)
7. Spiderman
8. The Matrix (the first one, not the other two)
Great stuff. Anyone who can appreciate theatre should see these.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Past
Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm a history student. I keep remembering past experiences.
It almost seems that I can recall things on command, in an instance, instead of waiting for them to emerge through the muddled fog of human consciousness.
And so even as Arsenal redeem themselves at Highbury against Wriggle Atheltic and crash to Barcelona and lousy refereeing, I can't care less anymore, because I can just sit there and wonder at where my mind has wondered off to.
Sounds like wool-gathering, but its not. I plunge back into the past and it seems all too real.
You're in the Vehicle Commander (VC) cupola of the Bionix 40/50 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. It's the smell that hits you first, the smell of grease and weapon oil and outfield dust and vehicle diesal exhaust and the stink of your own body.
Then the weapons- large and lethal- the 40mm automatic grenade launcher mounted on the left, and the 50 calibre heavy machine gun on its right.
You're gripping the cupola control stick and shifting it ever so gently, and the weapons systems are ever-so sensitive to your grip. They swing back and forth and up and down, muzzles menacing every sector you rotate the cupola towards.
You control the vehicle's driver through your helmet microphone- giving those sharp verbal commands.
The 23-ton armoured beast lurches and roars its way into the jungle.
An RPG ambush!
Turn and charge the vehicle, open fire with the 40 auto grenade launcher and then the machine gun- CHATATATA-WHAMWHAMWAHMWAHMWAHMWHAM-and the side mounted machine gun opens up too. You squeeze the trigger button on the control stick like anything, feeling the raw power as the weapons fire with yellow flashes and thunderous roars.
The stench of cordite is overpowering, but you have to keep your eye on the targeting sights trying to see the bastard so you can nail him, take him out with your hail of grenades and massive bullets. It's not that simple- the vehicle is lurching through the potholes and bouncing up and down, you have to fire in bursts to walk your rounds towards the RPG bastards in the bush, trying to report back to your platoon commander over the radio about what the hell is going on, trying to give orders to the section behind and side machine-gunner, trying to go on full auto blast as you near the RPG position, and there's this massive calmness about it all that you have to possess when guiding the vehicle or it'll go into the ditch and you're dead meat.
Gosh. What an adventure that was.
It envelops me.
I live in memories. I have no future.
It almost seems that I can recall things on command, in an instance, instead of waiting for them to emerge through the muddled fog of human consciousness.
And so even as Arsenal redeem themselves at Highbury against Wriggle Atheltic and crash to Barcelona and lousy refereeing, I can't care less anymore, because I can just sit there and wonder at where my mind has wondered off to.
Sounds like wool-gathering, but its not. I plunge back into the past and it seems all too real.
You're in the Vehicle Commander (VC) cupola of the Bionix 40/50 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. It's the smell that hits you first, the smell of grease and weapon oil and outfield dust and vehicle diesal exhaust and the stink of your own body.
Then the weapons- large and lethal- the 40mm automatic grenade launcher mounted on the left, and the 50 calibre heavy machine gun on its right.
You're gripping the cupola control stick and shifting it ever so gently, and the weapons systems are ever-so sensitive to your grip. They swing back and forth and up and down, muzzles menacing every sector you rotate the cupola towards.
You control the vehicle's driver through your helmet microphone- giving those sharp verbal commands.
The 23-ton armoured beast lurches and roars its way into the jungle.
An RPG ambush!
Turn and charge the vehicle, open fire with the 40 auto grenade launcher and then the machine gun- CHATATATA-WHAMWHAMWAHMWAHMWAHMWHAM-and the side mounted machine gun opens up too. You squeeze the trigger button on the control stick like anything, feeling the raw power as the weapons fire with yellow flashes and thunderous roars.
The stench of cordite is overpowering, but you have to keep your eye on the targeting sights trying to see the bastard so you can nail him, take him out with your hail of grenades and massive bullets. It's not that simple- the vehicle is lurching through the potholes and bouncing up and down, you have to fire in bursts to walk your rounds towards the RPG bastards in the bush, trying to report back to your platoon commander over the radio about what the hell is going on, trying to give orders to the section behind and side machine-gunner, trying to go on full auto blast as you near the RPG position, and there's this massive calmness about it all that you have to possess when guiding the vehicle or it'll go into the ditch and you're dead meat.
Gosh. What an adventure that was.
It envelops me.
I live in memories. I have no future.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Inexorable
Forgive the hysterical rants. The debilitating instability of emotions descends all too often upon me. The thing is, its not the current emotions I have per se but rather the memory of past emotions that re-ignite the current ones.
Memories, memories, memories.
They trap you, yet they teach you invaluable things.
Enough of this.
Truly, ignorance is bliss.
Someday it will all make sense. That's my honest hope. That's the one genuine hope I have.
Memories, memories, memories.
They trap you, yet they teach you invaluable things.
Enough of this.
Truly, ignorance is bliss.
Someday it will all make sense. That's my honest hope. That's the one genuine hope I have.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
A Day of Black Paralysis
Remnant /Resistence
Your hope is broken /We shall stand
You must let go /We stand or fall
We cannot hold this /You cannot run
We must fall back /You have come too far
Remnant /Resistence
You will be our doom /The only choice: Victorious Aut Mortis
You have no chance /To the last
We cannot do this/ Victory or Death
The battle is lost /To the very end
Remnant /Resistence
Why do you stay your course/ We have nothing to lose
The cost is too great /It is too late
What price we have paid /You cannot turn
We cannot win /We end this in Honour
When I look into your eyes
There's nothing there to see
Nothing but my own mistakes
Staring back at me
Tell me please,
Who the fuck did you want me to be?
Was it something that I couldn't see?
Never knew this would be so political.
And please, I'm still wearing this miserable skin
And it's starting to tear from within
But it's obvious that doesn't bother you,
so please
Why I stayed with you
Just push away
No matter what you see
You're still so blind to me
I've swallowed all your answers
I've swallowed all my pride
You've used up all your chances
Can't keep this all inside
I've lied
To you
This is the last smile
That I'll fake for the sake of being with you
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie
So please don't keep telling me that it's ok
I don't buy all the shit that you say
And quite honestly I'm fucking sick of it
so please
if I cut off this nose from my face
Then I wouldn't feel so out of place
But it still wouldn't be quite enough for you,
so please.
Your hope is broken /We shall stand
You must let go /We stand or fall
We cannot hold this /You cannot run
We must fall back /You have come too far
Remnant /Resistence
You will be our doom /The only choice: Victorious Aut Mortis
You have no chance /To the last
We cannot do this/ Victory or Death
The battle is lost /To the very end
Remnant /Resistence
Why do you stay your course/ We have nothing to lose
The cost is too great /It is too late
What price we have paid /You cannot turn
We cannot win /We end this in Honour
When I look into your eyes
There's nothing there to see
Nothing but my own mistakes
Staring back at me
Tell me please,
Who the fuck did you want me to be?
Was it something that I couldn't see?
Never knew this would be so political.
And please, I'm still wearing this miserable skin
And it's starting to tear from within
But it's obvious that doesn't bother you,
so please
Why I stayed with you
Just push away
No matter what you see
You're still so blind to me
I've swallowed all your answers
I've swallowed all my pride
You've used up all your chances
Can't keep this all inside
I've lied
To you
This is the last smile
That I'll fake for the sake of being with you
The sacrifice of hiding in a lie
So please don't keep telling me that it's ok
I don't buy all the shit that you say
And quite honestly I'm fucking sick of it
so please
if I cut off this nose from my face
Then I wouldn't feel so out of place
But it still wouldn't be quite enough for you,
so please.
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