Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Blog - "Three Shoes"

As strange a start as I can think of to a dream is one that starts at the end, then rolls backwards to the beginning. It's odd.

To go from the beginning, or chapter two as I've come to think of it, we begin with me following a friend of mine - I won't name names but she does have red hair - through what seemed to be an open air tunnel or some sort of concrete trench. There were search lights out, but they weren't looking for her; they were looking for me. I was following her somewhere safe. Why I was being looked for, I'll never know.

We got to where we were going, which, to my surprise, was my flat. During this point, she kind of turned on me, saying that this guy she was sleeping with wanted to talk to me, and was coming to me as we spoke to ensure that I didn't escape. Usually, this would mean nothing to me, as I'm not particularly enamoured of this girl, and have no fear of anyone she might decide to put out with. Somehow though, I ended up terrified, ended up shoving on my shoes the wrong way around, sticking an extra shoe, the right way, on my left room, and trying to flee from the room.

This is where said dream gets utterly stupid. Right outside my door was Kenny Dalglish, Liverpool F.C. Manager, and one of his players, Lucas Leiva. They showed their disappointment in me, for some reason.

At this point we skip forward, because the dream did, to my escape, months later. I don't know how I escaped, but I know that I blamed the man on the floor below me for not bothering to help. As he put it "I didn't know they could do torture like that with machines". Lovely. I run out into the street to get some distance between myself and the building, stopping to lay down in the dark two streets away and finally, after months, change my shoes.

As I was laying there, I was passed by my original female oppressor, with two more women coming with her. For some reason, I raised my arm as if lifting something, and became invisible to them. As they passed, I became aware that it was all my Mother's fault.

I also dreamt that an episode of The Office was being filmed in my office. Not sure which is weirder.

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Blog - "Brainstorming Outside The Bubble"

With the Graphic Designer I want being ever elusive, the reality of the amount of work ahead of me is beginning to close in, and the whole money thing is starting to pop up. This is problematic. I've always called money The Universal Motivator due to it being the only thing in the world that can make anybody do something for you. I don't mean have sex with your french baguette or anything stupid like that either; I mean actually do what they call their career for yourself.

Thing is, I'm doing all these for some money myself. I don't have all that much.

With the completion of Dej√° Vu just two weeks away, I've been stepping up the game for my ad campaign recently. I've done a lot of work towards it, as has my associate, a Mr. Richard Norfolk, local to me and greatly experienced in the area. We have a lot of ideas, some clever tricks and plans, and yes, I've had to part with some cash. I really wouldn't want to have to lose something close to £400 for one A4 bloody poster, especially when I'll be intentionally advertising said poster, and thus their work, to every single person I possibly can.

This thing is proving to be more trouble than it's worth so far. I'm nervous about it all, and I'm nowhere near close enough to feel near done.

Thankfully, help is at hand in the marketing arena. Mr. Norfolk and I have already started to design what we hope will be a unique and interesting advertising experience for all involved. It's taken a lot of brainstorming, and a lot of paper has been carelessly discarded in the name of work. Brainstorming has never been so fun, and involved fewer bubbles. I've never been a fan of the whole brainstorm around a bubble thing. I don't want a million options; I want one concerted plan.

Now I've got something of a plan formed, I'm suddenly feeling much better about everything. Life doesn't seem so scary, and finishing the book becomes much easier.

Though there's still going to be plenty of money changing hands. A shame, but hopefully, for £1 a novel, people are still going to do that buying thing.

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Short - "Lost In Translation"


There have been many odd days for the world of global news, but today just about takes the biscuit.

With the word of war constantly being mentioned on both sides over the Falkland Islands, the British government is said to have taken an envoy of peace to new Argentinian Minister Carlos Savella. Savella, new to the world of Politics, and with very little English to his understanding, issued a statement shortly afterwards. Argentina declared: "Give us the Falkland Islands or we will launch a massive nuclear attack on your tiny country and bum your women."

Greatly concerned by this news, the United Kingdom called on allies in America, India, Russia and China in order to gather the necessary numbers to deter any potential nuclear strike. Aware that any action on their part would result in millions of lives lost from their own people, Argentina put out an immediate response: "I don't care, Hippos," they are reported as saying in a press release aimed at Downing Street. "Hump some cheese."

Uganda, in a surprise comment, chose to join the fray with: "Argentina, you so gay. Terrorism start at home."

With the world on the brink of nuclear war, resistance fighters in Argentina have reported to the world authorities that they have bombed the home of Carlos Savella, and greatly apologise for any issues raised. Unfortunately, this was action taken too late, as a dozen 12kt nuclear warheads had already been launched.

In other, unrelated news, popular Interpreter Ulrik Mastev Regent, formerly in the employment of the governments of both Argentina and Uganda, was arrested today.

"Suck my Cow, space monkeys!" he instructed as he was being handcuffed. "Donkey wallets."

Rumours suggest that the world has finally gone mad. The Pope was unavailable for comment.