Nataku23147 #CBR4 Review #01: Real World by Natsuo Kirino

Wednesday, January 4, 2012 -- 4:05 pm

Genre: Fiction 
No. of Pages: 208
Publisher: Vintage International
Other: translated from Japanese

This is the first book by Natsuo Kirino that I have ventured a read through, but many blogs that a frequent has suggested her more recent books.  This piqued my interest and when I saw this novel in a used book store I decided to give it a go.  First off, let me explain a bit (or perhaps, a lot) of the plot:

The story follows a group of vapid and egocentric high school girls (Toshi, Yuzan, Terauchi, and Kararin) and a young, fairly idiotic, narcissistic and, at times, very smelly Japanese high school boy named--er, Worm (I don’t remember his actual name just his nickname).   The story revolves around the days following Worm committing matricide by bludgeoning his mother to death with a baseball bat.  The narrative jumps around in time, depending on who is the narrating voice, but it starts when Toshi, unknowingly, hears the murder take place and becomes the only witness to Worm being at the scene of the crime. 

After Worm steals Toshi’s phone and bike, he goes about contacting all the girls on her cell phone contact list.  Becuase he's desperate like that, I guess.  Despite his obviously social awkwardness and the horrible crime he just committed, Worm somehow gets many of Toshi’s friends to aide and assist him in hiding from the police.  Throughout the books each narrator discusses their willingness or unwillingness to corroborate with the murderer and as a result also delves into and an introverted analysis of their own duplicity.  Each character seems to be hiding the person they believe themselves to truly be under a mask of a societally acceptable behaviour.    

That sort of sums things up… rather poorly.  But nevertheless, that is the overarching plot of the novel.  I must admit it was not quite what I expected namely because the back cover said that book would be “psychologically intricate and astute… a searing, eye-opening portrait of teenage life in Japan unlike any we have seen before.”  Good marketing Vintage, I applaud you, because if this is an eye-opening portrait of teenage life in Japan then I feel profoundly sorry for the youth of that country. 

Every single one of the teens in this book were so excessively self-centered that instead of seeing the horror of the brutal murder of a mother by a son, they sympathized with the murder as they all too have thought of murdering their mothers or envied him because he was so free from the pressure of having to study for exams or applying for university.

Holy bageezes!  If the amount of pressure you are putting on your youth to always get the top grades and get into the right school drives them to murderous thoughts and actions then there is something incredibly wrong with society.  Don’t take me for ignorant to the set-up of Japanese society, I actually have been fascinated with Japan from an early age and was driven to studying East Asian culture during my University degree.  So I know a thing or two about the set-up of the Japanese culture and Asian family-dynamic, it’s because I know a bit about the society that I had such a hard time understanding this books blatant sympathizing with the murder of a family member.  Is the modern youth of Tokyo pushed so far to their limits that their human compassion has erodeded almost completely away?  Is the entire generation, the book is supposed to be speaking of, boarder-line or complete psychopaths?  Because that’s what I was picking up. 

Each girl stated, in no uncertain terms, that they couldn’t blame Worm or didn’t think they needed to tell the cops about the murderer they were speaking to because it wasn’t any of their business.  Even the one who was a key witness placing Worm at the scene of the crime.  And why does the boy think it is okay to murder his mother?  Because the mother thought the son was a peeping Tom so she moved them to the suburbs.  To set the record straight, the boy was a pervert and has some serious sexual repression issues.

So my conclusion, based on this book, is that the portrait that Natsuo Kirino wanted to paint of Japanese youth is that they are so shallow they cannot think beyond the now and of themselves.  They all seems to obsess over sex so much that they either sleeping with anything that pays any attention to them or internalize their desire to the point of raging frustration (this one may be spot on with teens in general). Also there is a whole platoon of disgusting Manga and chat rooms laden with prevent men available to the youth of Japann (this one is also true).  And lastly, the parents of this vapid, self-centered generation of youth are just a shallow and self-centered, only they are also neglectful and force their children to grow up too fast. 

Holy bleak outlook, batman.  I’ll give it 2 and a half reading cats (half a reading cat?! how horrid!) out of 5.  Really it wasn't bad but it wasn't a super compelling read.

Read Me Some Books to Edumacate Myself

Thursday, November 10, 2011 -- 3:54 pm

I have not been reading much of late, at the beginning of the year I said I was going to do this reading challenge and read a whole bunch of books but alas, I went for about 4 months straight where I didn't pick up a single book.  It was pretty disgraceful actually; I pride myself on my love of a good book.  So as part of my recent initiative, titled: Coleen Smarten the Fuck Up and Do Something Productive with Your Life, I picked up reading again.  Mostly I have been reading Book Club books but there were a few others.  In line with my buddy Brenna's Blog, I shall review those books.  Oh yes, get ready for some SPOILERS.  That’s right, you heard me.  I have no qualms about spoiling the shit of things.  No complaining.

First off the bat, I finished a series by Scott Westerfield known as the Leviathan Series, the last book of which is called Goliath.

Scott Westerfield is an interesting writer.  I think the most interesting thing about him is the fact that, in all of his book series, his main character is primarily female.  Considering he is a male writers I find this fact very unusual, but good.  More writers should focus on characters that are not their own gender; I think it would force them to see things in a different lens.

So far, I have read two of his book series in their entirely.  The Uglies, Pretties and Specials Series and the Leviathan Series.  Both were good overall but they were pretty easy reads and... shamefully located in the young adult section of the bookstore.  Why is this shameful?  Well it looks creepy to have a 20 something year old wandering though that section of the store.  But what’s even more disturbing is that I often feel that people will associate me as "one of those Twilight reading adults".

Let’s get this shit clear: I will never read Twilight unless it turns out hell is real and I end up going there for being so damn sinful and unrepentive.

One fact about Scott Westerfield’s writing style that annoys me is that everything he writes is a Trilogy.  I mean seriously, why do writers have to make every book part of a trilogy?  Well, for the money, I guess but I like is so much better to have everything wrapped up in one book.

Now for the actual book review: This series is considered an alternate history that takes place in the years leading up to the First World War.  In this alternate history Charles Darwin went all super genius scientists and took up gene splicing and genetic modification in addition to his other illustrious past times, namely the discovery of evolution and banging his first cousin.

Wait what?

Yes that’s right, in real history; Charles married and had children with his first cousin Emma Wedgewood.  Even more ironically, the man was so smart that he understood that marrying his cousin wasn’t the best of ideas.  Throughout his life he wrote scientific papers of inbreeding and the genetic ramifications of marrying within ones family.  Yet he has 10 children with if cousin/wife.  Some of whom died of childhood illnesses (probably because of that nasty inbreeding thing).  But all this is beside the point, none of this incredible fun trivia about the Father of Evolution was in this young adult series.   Obviously Westerfield wanted to stick it to the non-evolution believers out there and went full steam ahead with the idea that Darwin was the best thing since electricity.

Perhaps Westerfield has himself a man-crush on Charles...

 That Sexy Beast of a Man
And can you blame him? Look at those sexy sideburns and that cravat, no man wears a cravat better then Darwin.

Again back to the book!

The series follows two characters, Prince Aleksander, the made up and inserted-into-history illegitimate (cause his mum was a commoner, gasp) heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne.   For those of you who weren't history Minors in University, this would make Aleks the son of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  Franz Ferdinand is that band with the catchy song "Do You Want To?".

The answer to which is nein (cause they speak German in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, look how much we are learning!  We are having some serious fun folks!).

Franz was the guy who is given then fame of being reason that WWI started when it did.  What did poor old Franz do to start a war that caused Millions of deaths?

Well he got himself shot, in the head, by some pesky sniper.

This act lead to a whole lot of those silly "we attack you if you attack our friends" treaties to go into effect and thus almost all of Europe and the world into War.  Well, except the States who sat on their idle hands till they felt they had squeezed enough money from everyone.

 


Shit Is Gonna Get Real

 

I am going into way to much historical detail for a young adult series book review, eh?  Oh well, it happened, deal with it.

Aleks isn’t the only character the book series follows, the other is a commoner and supposable likeable British gal names Deryn Sharpe, she wants nothing more in life then to throw away early 20th century convention and be part of the British Air force, despite the fact that she’s a measly little 15 year old girl.  So she cross dresses her way into the Air force and though many acts of heroism and a lot of acts of stupidity, she makes her way through the series pretending to be a dude and not the really flat chested girl that she really is.

A good part though the first book Alek and Dylan (that’s the male spelling of Deryn, haha no wonder no one figured it out!) meet up and become reluctant friends.  Since this is a book clearly aimed at impressionable post-Twilight young adult women, Deryn is simultaneously a strong and intelligent (and brash/uncouth) individual and hopelessly in love with our upright and slightly snobbish, but redeemable, Prince Aleks.

How will they be together if he is a royal and she is a commoner girl pretending to be a commoner boy?  Woe is them.

As I read the book I could already see the Alternate Universe Fan Fiction being written.  Oh the Fan Fiction will be dirty, this I know.

Anyways, this book adds a new character into the series that should actually be the best thing since buttered toast.  None other than Nikola Tesla.

Who is a super sexy man. Wowza. He’s my historical freebie, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

 

In this series Nikola helped the Germans stay on the path of machine glory against those pesky Darwinist who manipulate animal DNA and create wacky spliced creatures.  But after the Germans attacked Serbia, Nikola’s homeland, he turned to the Darwinist side and decided to build a machine that could destroy whole cities from thousands of miles away.

Our protagonists Alek and Deryn, who are aboard a giant flying whale (yes, you read it right) are part of the English force sent to get Nikola to his machine, called Goliath and end the war for good.  Well la de da, isn’t that an ambitious task.

In general, I find that the Steam punk fad seems a bit quirky to me, the genre tends to make grand and illustrious leaps in scientific discovery that really don’t belong in the Victorian era.  My case and point, the whole Darwinist movement is based on the idea that people in the early 1920’s can so readily manipulate animal DNA that they can create and crazy flying Zeppelin like Whale ship… thing.  That is filled with other animals that are used like weapons.  Bats would fly into oncoming planes and vomit out metal bits to blow them up.

My problem was that idea that animals, whether genetically manipulated or not, are completely expendable.  That’s not okay with me, not at all.  I know it is just a book with a quirky premise but I think that society would have a hissy fit if this happened.  Especially in the 1900’s common, we are talking about an age that would take breaks in the middle of fighting on holidays… the use to actually do that.  I don’t think this would at all fly.  England was a pretty religious place back then too, science would not have prevailed.

As for the love story element, well it was pretty teenagish, which was to be expected.  It’s the same old story, you know the one:

Boy meets person who he thinks is another boy.

Boy and Boy-girl become best of friends despite their radically different places on a rigid and structured society.

Boy-girl thinks boy is pretty snobbish, but falls for him anyways.

Boy is oblivious to the fact that boy-girl is in fact a girl and not a boy.

Boy starts having confusing thoughts about boy-girl.

Boy-girl has many, not confused, thoughts about boy.  She wants to bone him.  Something bad (but this is a young adult fiction book so instead of bone they say kiss, but I know what their quivering loins really want).

Lots of stuff happens and lots of poor animals die, and Germans, lots of Germans die too.

Boy-girl reveals to boy that she is in fact Girl.

Boy is ANGRY!  But realizes, with relief, that those confusing feelings are not so bad now that Boy-girl is just a girl.

Boy and girl fall and love.  Boy renounced his throne, they go off an become British spies.

Blah blah blah.

 

I give this book zero bats out of a lot of bats (because they killed them all in the book) and 3 stars out of 5 for being entertaining enough.

Holy fuck that was a long review.  I’ll do the rest later… and shorten them considerably.

Hot Man Fridays (on Saturday)

Saturday, November 5, 2011 -- 1:01 pm

Today’s Hot Man has a bit of an air about him, there something both simultaneously erotic but unsettling about this good looking chap.  You will know him from many blockbuster movies like Inception and Batman, I personal know him from my reoccurring equally unsettling daydreams.  If you do not know who this fine gentleman is then you are dead inside and need to watch better movies.

It's Cillian Murphy.

…But there is something off about him, eh?

Cillian is very good looking, don’t get me wrong, he’s Irish and has these model like cheek bones which give him this just gorgeous face.  But there something about his… eyes, you know.  They give off this… how do I word this?

…serial killer vibe.

“So you’re saying this is why I keep getting type casted as a crazy villain or distant and impersonal business man?”

“Yes, buts its okay sweetie, cause your still hella good-looking!”

 

If this were real life I would be consoling him right now.

He would be nestled deep in my arms until he was passive and compliant then I would snap on some handcuffs and take him into my  secrete chamber where I keep my good looking men (as of now its pretty empty, cause when you have rock hard abs you tend to be in good  shape and can normally outrun me).

I know what you’re thinking and he is probably thinking the same thing.

“If I hadn’t been so damn good looking,
I wouldn’t have been kidnapped
by this mad woman and locked in this dungeon.
Damn my beauty!  Damn it TO HELL!”

Seriously though, look at this face don’t you just want to kidnap it and keep it for your self in a dungeon in your basement and have your  wicked wicked way with him?
Hmmm?

....I though so.

Hot Man Friday’s

Friday, October 21, 2011 -- 10:23 am

Many months ago, in a drastically inappropriate move, I decided to brighten the day of Friday for some former co-workers by starting something called Hot Man Fridays.  The essence for HMF’s is that I post pictures of some hot men… sometimes in relation to a theme, and just type whatever comes to my mind about the person/pictures/or random topic that comes to my mind when I see a picture of the Hot Man. 

I decided that Hot Men should not be limited to the capacity of a chain e-mail and that I should share this momentous event with the small world that reads my blog, so without further ado, copy and pasted from that e-mail chain is the first of an ongoing series called HMF’s.

 

 

Fear not ladies for Hot Man Friday’s have returned!

Now let’s just take a moment to really revel in the praise and relief you are un-doubtably throwing my way.  I can feel it my little ones.  Oh I can feel it.

Anyway, since I apparently take requests, Christina has asked me to feature the lead singer of the red Hot Chili Peppers…..

 

…..whose name I have forgotten.  In fact I don’t care about the name of the hot men featured on Hot Man Friday’s, only that they are hot and men. 

....Though if you get me tipsy, perhaps women but that’s normal, right? … How about we don’t go there.

So anyways, Hot Nameless Man, I salute your pensive face and slightly oily skin.  It looks delicious.  Yum.

Christina let me know that this Hot Nameless Man has been a long time crush of hers.  Despite the fact that he is a matured specimen of a man.  Al she care about is that he remains hot and a man. 

This got me thinking about my long-time hot man crushes and only one stood the true test of time.

Sir Patrick fucking Stewart

 

Perhaps the most amazing Star Ship Captain of all time (which opens up a whole lot of fun sexual metaphors), he’s also British and well educated.  You can just imagine yourself sitting in high backed leather chairs, having a flirtatious yet engaging intellectual discussion.  Follow by an intense …work out session… by the roaring fire on a soft bear skin rug locked away in your winter cabin located in the deep and isolated English woods….

I even remember the exact moment that I fell for Sir Patrick, back in those days he was not yet a regale knight but just an actor on one of the best Science Fiction show of the early nineties.  He was dressed in riding gear… and the pants, well, they were quite tight you see.  He also wore a shirt that flowed quite nicely too, it looked silky yet gave him an air of casual elegance…..

It was a magical moment. 

To this day, Sir Stewart remains a long-standing Hot Man in my repository of Hot Men and I doubt that will ever change.

So to all the old (er) Hot Men out there, I salute you.

  “Engage!”

(I mean look at him!  He’s fully clothed but still gorgeous!

In fact I couldn’t find a picture of him shirtless,  feel betrayed by the internet L)

To send you off, I am linking this hilarious video of Patrick, playing and alternative version of himself, in a British show called Extras with Ricky Gervais (who is not hot, but funny).  Watch it when you can listen to the sound, and watch it all.  Captain Picard demands it!

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fg_cwI1Xj4M

Unreasonable Satisfaction with a Meagre Mediocre Mundane Life

Friday, September 9, 2011 -- 11:47 am

My work.  What can I say about it?  Well I have what is quite possibly the most awesome job ever.  Except for professional kitten snugglers.  No one can beat that job.

One of the most awesome aspects of my job is the fact that I get to write and develop policy, and the fact that by doing those two things, that I actually have a job that has something to do with my university degree. 

Now, I know that many people go to university in hope of doing a job that has some relation to their degree, but that is either a pipedream or something that people in medical professions only get to actually experience.  The Liberal Arts degree is essentially a stepping stone into …something, what is that something you ask? 

It could be a highly intelligent house husband/wife? 

Or a really opinionated call center worker?

It could even be a future chair to charity volunteer boards that can’t pay their rent because they make no money doing all of their volunteer and philanthropic activities and has compromise their morals and work at corporate Starbucks just to get by?

Well, we shall never really know. 

Liberal Arts degrees are simply a way for reasonably intelligent individuals, who are too soft for the trades/hard labour jobs and not keen on spending then next 15 years in medical/science type school, to get some higher education and do…. something with their lives.  It’s never particular clear what it is these Liberal Arts type people want to do, as Liberal Art majors are usually picked based on:

A)     a whim, “anthropology eh?  That’s the study of people, right? Well I’m a person… how hard can that be?”;

B)       a dream, “acting? That sounds neato and I do really want to make out with Brad Pitt one day”;

C)      the startling conclusion that there was only one or two subjects in High School that the person did really well in and that they did mediocre in all the rest (or struggled though, ahem Math), so why not choose a major that has something to do with that topic?  (This is how all English, Political Science, and History majors are chosen); and lastly

D)     someone you either admire or like has already chosen their major and you just want to copy them because High School didn’t actually teach you how to think critically, only how to follow the pack leader.  This is what my first boyfriend was like.  In the time that I knew him he did three entirely different programs all based on what his “best friend at the time” was taking as their major.  On a related note, he was, and likely continues to be, a douchbag. 

As someone who felt inclined to take Political Science as my degree, (refer to point B as to why I took it (Social Studies was aaaawwwwweesome!!)) all I knew is that I wanted to do something political...ish in nature.  Though I had the horrible misnomer when I was younger that I was taking a political science degree to become a politician, AhHaHAhaaaaa, *wipes tear* I was so foolish and young.

Politicians don’t need political science degrees, in fact I am stretching the considerable knowledge bank that is my mind and I cannot think of a politician that has a Poly Sci degree.  History maybe, but Poly Sci… no.  Medical Degrees, Law Degrees, yes and yes.  I even personally know a former MP who doesn’t even have a High School Degree, but does have money and friends in high places.

What you really need to succeed in the political spotlight is:

A)     a fierce love for yourself (there are no self conscious politicians);

B)      a fierce love for attention;

C)      money (or the ability to get other people with money to give it to you, which is, by far, the most awesome skill to possess, ever); and

D)     time, and lots of it.

Political Science degrees breed a different kind of individual.  A Poly Sci student who wants fiercely to be active in decision making is quickly bogged down by reality.  Those people go into clubs and organizations that model the western worlds governing model, the Model UN and student government being the prime examples, and quickly realize that decision are not simply made by a unitary ruler, but are the result of a long and sometimes arduous process that involves many, many people.  I’m not saying this type of decision making is a bad thing.  It’s not. 

If we had uniform single person decision making as our model for governance, holy baby Jesus, the world would be fucked.   Cause people, individually, are stupid.  Yes, even the smart ones.  Individuals get ridiculous and not well thought through ideas into their mind, normally given to them by their close group of like-minded peers,  and if that person had the power to enact those decisions without the carefully waited advise of an educated and impartial bureaucracy or a counterweighted opposition, things would not go well. 

This brings me back to the point I was trying to make at the very beginning. 

(Ahahah A point!  Finally!)

My point is that after those more idealistic and power hungry people who want-change-and-want-it-now  are weeded out, Political Science degrees help shape the perfect bureaucrat.  These people can still crave a little power; I mean we are trying to prove all those bullies from high school that made fun of us nerdlings for being up to date on current events, loving satirical comedy and being a little weird, wrong.  We just don’t want that power to be subject to the public eye.  The public is mean and is composed of those damn bullies all grown up. 

Instead we want the power to give well rounded and well researched (though sometimes heavily weighted and obviously preferred) options to those in power but not have to choose outright cause that could cost us our jobs. 

We like to develop strategies and frameworks that tell people how to live appropriately but not actually be the ones to tell those people directly how to live.  The bullies can do that.

We like to have meetings with other intelligent people and argue about things and hash them out.  Then we like to record those thought and agonize over the little details for months writing draft after draft of a paper. 

We don’t like FOIP (Freedom of information and Privacy) cause it takes a lot of time to dig up all that stuff when someone makes a FOIP request and now all our pretty meeting minutes are out for everyone to see L

We like to work really hard and strive to do the best thing for the most people and yet get torn down and not recognized for it (the fact that were martyrs for a cause makes us feel special). 

We like having a stable and predictable work week and planning far off into the future (Yeah for Pensions and 5 Year Action Plans!!). 

We are bureaucrats. 

Hear us roar like lions who don’t like roaring directly in the public eye.

Ahhhh yes, I love my job.

Analyze This…

Saturday, July 2, 2011 -- 3:04 am

I had one of my strange lucid dreams last night.

I should take this time to forewarn anyone crazy enough to read my blog that I cannot control who is in my dreams and what occurs.  You will likely be disturbed.  You will likely recoil from the absurdity or think ill of my conscious awake self for what occurs in my dreams.  But you really shouldn't, because I can’t control what my unconscious mind thinks, goddammit!  Stop being so judgmental!

Also, I strongly encourage you to take out your Freudian hats and dissect what this could mean.

From what I remember, the dream started with me and a bunch of my friends staying in this small town.  It was a dusty, hot cowboy-esque town, with one Starbucks and thirteen gun stores.  It may have been somewhere in Texas by the sounds of it.

This was to be my wedding to Sarah Woo.

Yes, its true, Sarah Woo.

Not boyfriend, in fact, he wasn't even in my dream.  Hmmmm I wonder what Freud would think.

I remember being mad about both having to get married as I was mad about that fact that the wedding wasn't how I have been secretly picturing it to be.  The lights, the catering, and the wardrobe were all wrong.

Now, no offence to Ms. Woo, but we were being forced to get married.  It was political arrangement and would help bring soldiers from each of our respected families to the war that was occurring.  Yes a war.  I think this part has been STRONGLY influenced by my reading the A Song of Ice and Fire book series.  Of course the dress and settings of my dream were all modern day (modern western day….), so my mind wasn't trying to correlate to the books too strongly.

So my wife to be, all our friends, and I, were at a jewelry store trying to pick out our rings.  I was in this crazy rage because I couldn't find a ring good enough for my lovely wife.  I had ordered a ring, but the people lost it in shipping.  I kept challenging them to a duel to fight for my ladies honour, but my friends were holding me back and trying to calm me down.

Eventually Brenna, the best man/maid of honour (depending on which gender role I was suppose to be filling), calmed me down and told me to give Sarah the crazy black rose ring that I was wearing and to replace it with the ring I wanted to give her later.  When I looked at my hand a black rose ring was suddenly on my middle finger (go power of suggestion).

I went down onto one knee, right there in the store, and gave her the ring.  Everyone in the store clapped politely and banged their swords.

Yes, stay with me here, swords.  I should stop reading Fantasy novels apparently.

Sarah was being all shy and timid, but took the ring, when she put in on her hand the flower grew huge and blossomed very prettily.  Apparently, dream me has excellent taste in jewelry as everyone was very impressed.

Next thing I remember is that I am preparing for the ceremony.  Despite my rather masculine role in the dream thus far, I am to wear a somewhat traditional wedding dress (though the dress is a rather mute beige color).  I am struggling to get into the dress as I don’t seem to be able to hold it up and zip it at the same time.  Curious that I have a sword but no retainer to help me get dressed.

After a while of struggling and much cursing, I decide that I need a shower.  When the going gets though, I have a shower.  Sounds like University all over again (I was a compulsive shower-er).

I was doing my thing in the shower when suddenly I notice that blood is going down the drain and my hand is slashed quite deeply.  Dream me is rather taken aback from the wound and doesn't seem to know what to do.  I try cleaning the wound in the water and start to loose a shocking amount of blood.  I stumble out of the shower, in my naked glory, and fumble around getting weak from the loss of blood.  As I am wrapping the wound with a tube sock, I have a sudden epiphany.  I hastily got dressed and ran from the room.

I stumbled down to the basement. The room looks like a typical cookie cutter house half finished basement, all concrete pillars and unpainted drywall.  I stumble towards the only three men in the room.  Two of the three men are standing on each side of the third man, dressed in chain-mail and yielding long swords.  The third man is reclining on a chesterfield with his feet up on an ottoman dressed in jeans and t-shirt.  I go to the middle man and fall to me knees.  Huffing and puffing I bow down to my knees, “King Robb*,” huff puff, I am looking a lot of blood, “we cannot win this war,” I then clutch his big toes through his socks “we are outnumbered on all sides, no extra troops can win us more then a few battles, in time we will be overrun and our forces will dwindle!  Hear me, My Lord, we will not win this way!” (Even I am impressed with my recollection of this speech but it was essentially the dramatic climax of the dream so that probably why).

King Robb looked at me with a smile on his face, then sat up from his reclining position and put his hands on my face “You noble creature, you think this because you do not know the whole extent of the plan.”  Despite his calm, I was getting panicky and woozy, from my continued blood loss and from my apprehension about the wedding too.

Suddenly the ground started shaking and the foundation of the house was cracking, I was panicking but Robb and his guards didn’t seem too concerned.  He then instructed me to go upstairs and get on with this blasted wedding as we would need those troops soon.  One of his guards grabbed me by the arm and helped drag my now shaking body up the stairs, I could hear the wedding music playing and knew I had to get into the chapel soon.

I rushed back to my room to get dressed and as I was once again struggling into my dress I glimpsed the cause of the shaking foundation: giant lizard robots engaging in battle with steel zeppelins with car sized machine guns.  I just nodded and ate a bagel as I finally struggle my dress into place.  I chewed thoughtfully on the bagel.  I knew I would need my strength tonight for the bedding. (Sorry Sarah)

As I finished my bagel, I made my way over to the chapel awkwardly.  I was wearing chain-mail under my dress and it clanged loudly as I speed walked.  I entered the chapel and made my way to the front, passing 50 rows chalk full of kneeling, praying Tibetan monks.  At the front of the chapel stood a 25 foot tall real life Godzilla in a priests outfit.  I stood beside the pinkie toe of the monster and turned to the front just as Sarah walked in on the arm of King Robb.  Robb was dressed very finely, in a tight and flattering Hugo Boss suit, while Sarah was dressed in Care Bear t-shirt and hot pink sweats that said Juicy on the thigh.

The ceremony itself was very short as Godzilla doesn't speak English, only Monster, and just roared three times and we said ‘I do’.  Instead of kissing we each unloaded a round of bullets in the air from sparkle covered shotguns.  Then we each hopped into a Mobile Suit Gundams and went to join the battle.

 

The end.

* = Yes this is Robb Stark from the A Song of Ice and Fire series, I always took a liking to him despite the fact that most of his story takes place in the background and is barley touched on, I guess I just like me my stubbornly heroic kingly literary figures.

 

I had one of my strange lucid dreams last night.

I should take this time to forewarn anyone crazy enough to read my blog that I cannot control who is in my dreams and what occurs. You will likely be disturbed. You will likely recoil from the absurdity or think ill of my conscious awake self for what occurs in my dreams. But you really shouldn’t, because I can’t control what my unconscious mind thinks, goddamnit! Stop being so judgmental!

Also, I strongly encourage you to take out your Freudian hats and dissect what this could mean.

From what I remember, the dream started with me and a bunch of my friends staying in this small town. It was a dusty, hot cowboy-esque town, with one Starbucks and thirteen gun stores. It may have been somewhere in Texas by the sounds of it.

This was to be my wedding to Sarah Woo.

Yes, its true, Sarah Woo.

Not boyfriend, in fact, he wasn’t even in my dream. Hmmmm I wonder what freud would think.

I remember being mad about both having to get married as I was mad about that fact that the wedding wasn’t how I have been secretly picturing it to be. The lights, the catering, and the wardrobe were all wrong.

Now, no offence to Ms. Woo, but we were being forced to get married. It was political arrangement and would help bring soldiers from each of our respected families to the war that was occurring. Yes a war. I think this part has been STRONGLY influenced by my reading the A Song of Ice and Fire book series. Of course the dress and settings of my dream were all modern day (modern western day….), so my mind wasn’t trying to correlate to the books too strongly.

So my wife to be, all our friends, and I, were at a jewelry store trying to pick out our rings. I was in this crazy rage because I couldn’t find a ring good enough for my lovely wife. I had ordered a ring, but the people lost it in shipping. I kept challenging them to a duel to fight for my ladies honour, but my friends were holding me back and trying to calm me down.

Eventually Brenna, the best man/maid of honour (depending on which gender role I was suppose to be filling), calmed me down and told me to give Sarah the crazy black rose ring that I was wearing and to replace it with the ring I wanted to give her later. When I looked at my hand a black rose ring was suddenly on my middle finger (go power of suggestion).

I went down onto one knee, right there in the store, and gave her the ring. Everyone in the store clapped politely and banged their swords.

Yes, stay with me here, swords. I should stop reading Fantasy novels apparently.

Sarah was being all shy and timid, but took the ring, when she put in on her hand the flower grew huge and blossomed very prettily. Apparently, dream me has excellent taste in jewelry as everyone was very impressed.

Next thing I remember is that I am preparing for the ceremony. Despite my rather masculine role in the dream thus far, I am to wear a somewhat traditional wedding dress (though the dress is a rather mute beige color). I am struggling to get into the dress as I don’t seem to be able to hold it up and zip it at the same time. Curious that I have a sword but no retainer to help me get dressed.

After a while of struggling and much cursing, I decide that I need a shower. When the going gets though, I have a shower. Sounds like University all over again (I was a compulsive showerer).

I was doing my thing in the shower when suddenly I notice that blood is going down the drain and my hand is slashed quite deeply. Dream me is rather taken aback from the wound and doesn’t seem to know what to do. I try cleaning the wound in the water and start to loose a shocking amount of blood. I stumble out of the shower, in my naked glory, and fumble around getting weak from the loss of blood. As I am wrapping the wound with a tube sock, I have a sudden epiphany. I hastily got dressed and ran from the room.

I stumbled down to the basement. The room looks like a typical cookie cutter house half finished basement, all concrete pillars and unpainted drywall. I stumble towards the only three men in the room. Two of the three men are standing on each side of the third man, dressed in chainmail and yielding long swords. The third man is reclining on a chesterfield with his feet up on an ottoman dressed in jeans and t-shirt. I go to the middle man and fall to me knees. Huffing and puffing I bow down to my knees, “King Robb*,” huff puff, I am looking a lot of blood, “we cannot win this war,” I then clutch his big toes through his socks “we are outnumbered on all sides, no extra troops can win us more then a few battles, in time we will be overrun and our forces will dwindle! Hear me, My Lord, we will not win this way!” (Even I am impressed with my recollection of this speech but it was essentially the dramatic climax of the dream so that probably why).

King Robb looked at me with a smile on his face, then sat up from his reclining position and put his hands on my face “You noble creature, you think this because you do not know the whole extent of the plan.” Despite his calm, I was getting panicky and woozy, from my continued blood loss and from my apprehension about the wedding too.

Suddenly the ground started shaking and the foundation of the house was cracking, I was panicking but Robb and his guards didn’t seem too concerned. He then instructed me to go upstairs and get on with this blasted wedding as we would need those troops soon. One of his guards grabbed me by the arm and helped drag my now shaking body up the stairs, I could hear the wedding music playing and knew I had to get into the chapel soon.

I rushed back to my room to get dressed and as I was once again struggling into my dress I glimpsed the cause of the shaking foundation: giant lizard robots engaging in battle with steel zeppelins with car sized machine guns. I just nodded and ate a bagel as I finally struggle my dress into place. I chewed thoughtfully on the bagel. I knew I would need my strength tonight for the bedding. (Sorry Sarah)

As I finished my bagel, I made my way over to the chapel awkwardly. I was wearing chainmail under my dress and it clanged loudly as I speed walked. I entered the chapel and made my way to the front, passing 50 rows chalk full of kneeling, praying Tibetan monks. At the front of the chapel stood a 25 foot tall real life Godzilla in a priests outfit. I stood beside the pinky toe of the monster and turned to the front just as Sarah walked in on the arm of King Robb. Robb was dressed very finely, in a tight and flattering Hugo Boss suit, while Sarah was dressed in Care Bear t-shirt and hot pink sweats that said Juicy on the thigh.

The ceremony itself was very short as Godzilla doesn’t speak English, only Monster, and just roared three times and we said ‘I do’. Instead of kissing we each unloaded a round of bullets in the air from sparkle covered shotguns. Then we each hopped into a Mobile Suit Gundams and went to join the battle.

The end.