Geektitudinal writing (and process)

[Instead of posting another “I totally meant to get this up within a week of the last one, but life got in the way” bit of rubbish, I ‘ave decided this: I am requiring myself to post on here once in any given two week period, and when I do post more frequently — which I will try to do — I will consider those bonus posts… fun fact: I originally was going to use the word “bi-weekly” to describe my intended posting habits, but then I got hung up on the notion of “Wait, does that technically mean once every two weeks, or twice a week?”… so I looked it up to alleviate my confusion. It turns out bi-weekly can mean EITHER twice a week or once every two weeks… hence my confusion. English can be really stupid sometimes, I mean, we can’t even decide how our godsdamned words work! Anyway, prefatory note finished.]

Some time ago I posted a little bit of excerpts of writing I do. That one was rather laser-focused on the little moment that come to me out of nowhere, and having nothing in mind to do with them, I sort-of insert them into little beta-test characters I made years ago. They tend to be contemporary-time bits that I find funny at the moment, but don’t fit into my other writing — my longer writings lean heavily toward the fantasy genre.

I hadn’t put a lot of thought into that until I read a comment by a good friend, she comments here as DizzyBee (I used to teach and learn along-side her at MSU. She’s a clever lady, you should read her stuff), wherein she mentioned that I could “work it into some kind of a story within one of the romance genres. Clearly, it’s a contemporary scene, and I can see it happening in our 21st century, but …  I feel like this could be a period piece of some sort”. I loved the idea (and commented as such, if you want to take a looksey on the previous post), and that got me to wondering why…

In my writing process (why is this infernal computational contraption telling me that’s grammatically incorrect? To the depths with you, machine!)… Where was I? Right, writing process. Anyway, I find it difficult to write fiction that is contemporary, or maybe “not fantastically inclined contemporary” is a better way to put it. The reason for that, I think, is that contemporary times are hard for me to want to inhabit fictionally because I already inhabit them “really”. I don’t have the fun I have, jumping away from “the now”. Rest assured, friend, that I realize that there are always ways to turn things ever so slightly in a way that makes thinks different and fun, but having a story that takes place “now”, makes me strain much harder for something to find something interesting to show my reader. I love the feel of different time periods. It just gets me going. If I find myself looking into the Renaissance, Victoriana / Neo-victoriana, Medieval stuff… or even something futuristic like Cyberpunk, or its many, many derivatives, I find myself more able to think, “Let me show this idea/concept I found interesting, it’s pretty cool. Check it out.” And along with that I can put characters, settings, and story lines that drive a narrative.

That having been said, I figured I could show you lot an example of the kinds of hooks and turns I put in my writing that are seeded in personal interest. I am unabashedly a fan of Role Playing Games (think stuff like Dungeons and Dragons for a point of reference, but — once you get into that community — there is a surprisingly large amount of differently themed rabbit holes for one to travel through). I’m also a huge fan of comic books — with a particular emphasis on comic book superheroes. I used to keep more on-top of comics, but I will admit that, fan though I am, I’m not the most up to date individual (keeping current on comic books costs money, more than I have). So a friend of mine likes to play a D&D type game wherein the players play superheroes instead of dungeon-crawling knights and what have you. I found that, while to some degree the general theme of superheroes is fun enough, I like to combine my interests. So I started creating characters that are ripped from the pages of myths and literature (sort of like Thor in Marvel Comics is the Thor of myth).

One of the funnest characters I used was Robin Hood (for reference sake, I’ve been into Robin Hood since I was a kid, you know what I’m talking about)… but how does one make Robin Hood fit into a modern-day superhero story? There are many ways one could do it, but mine was to make him an immortal… moreover, some legends (mostly the older medieval stuff) suggest Robin Hood is the offspring of a pagan nature god… I also thought it might be fun to have his backstory mix with Arthurian legend (maybe he achieved the holy grail like some of Arthur’s knights)…  but it would be no fun and leave no room for expanding the character if I lined all this stuff up, so I made a bunch of story threads like these that can allow me to expand in different directions (also, I know this is a little clichéd, but I wrote him that he can only remember from the late 15th/early 16th Century onward). How does he fit in a modern context? My thought was that, in a less depressing Alan Moore‘s Watchmen-esque world where superheroes exist, these major heroic figures of English folklore would work for the nation of England (so there’s like a hyper MI5/MI6 branch of the English government that is full of superheroes). For added drama, I made The Sheriff of Nottingham an Immortal figure too, and while he isn’t a bad guy, his relationship with Robin is strained at the best of times… I also decided — this was for more humor’s sake — that this organization, called The Queens Guard, actually answers personally to the Queen of England (So the Queen of England becomes this sort of M-in-James-Bond type figure on top of being the Queen of England).

I could go on and on about this stuff, but I actually want to get this long-delayed post done. So, I’m going to say that if anyone wants to hear more about this stuff, mention it in the comments or whatever. It may even be something I return to with other posts, as you can tell it’s something I’m passionate about… but for now, All of this was really just a preamble to me posting some more of my writing up here. Here you will the results of me being inspired enough by the aforementioned games that I actually wrote a little story snippet about this version of Robin Hood that I made (if you want anymore details about the story itself, feel free to comment on that as well — as I’m sure some details a crystal clear to me, but wouldn’t be to you… I will say this though, a “Mariana” is mentioned: she is the daughter of Robin Hood, presumably by Maid Marion):

{Commencing short story snippet ***Be warned, the language gets pretty salty***:}

“Ian, I need to speak with you…” he spoke as he was entering the court, which was all but empty save for Nottingham.

“Oh, Hob,” Nottingham said surprised to see Robin, “Admiral Britannia said you were going to be in Sherwood today. Did you hear that Nottingham University is going to add a new field of literature…”

“I don’t give a damn about that right now…” Robin cut him off, “I need to speak with you about this little project of yours – the Saint George.”

At that, Nottingham faltered, quickly recovering, “Hob, I don’t know what you’re talking…”

Once again Hood cut him off “ ‘Steeth you don’t, you son of a bitch!”

“Wait, how did you know?”

“Don’t be so surprised, Ian” Robin spoke, fuming, “My associates in Tampa Bay said they came across box containing…”

“Hob, I could court marshall you for bringing this up in a public forum.”

“I’m not finished, Ian! I wanted to know what you were up to, so I broke into your office…”

“Christ, Hob!”

“I saw the papers, Ian. Explain yourself.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Eventually Nottingham broke it, “Look Hob, I…” before he could finish, Robin clenched his fist and punched him in the eye.

“I had that coming. I understand, but…” again, before Nottingham could finish, Robin swung again. This time, Nottingham ducked the punch, “Hob, listen, I’m trying to tell you…”

“How could you?” Robin swung a third time, but this time Nottingham caught the punch, then returned with a chop to Hood’s throat. Robin staggered back, and paused to gasp for air.

Nottingham, now clutching his swelling eye, spoke “God damn it, Robin! I’m trying to tell you it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

Robin, finally catching his breath, retorted, “The hell it wasn’t! You always wanted her back.”

“Rob, the project was failing and…”

“Did you even think about…”

“You?” Nottingham cut him off, starting to lose his patience, “No, I felt you’d have that covered.”

Hood recoiled a step, “…And what about Mariana? This could…”

“It was her idea, you bastard. Did you even talk to her about it?”

“I’m her father. I know what’s…” Robin faltered, “You had no right.”

At that, Nottingham lost what little cool he had left, “I had no right?! No right?! Listen here, you self-righteous prick. Mariana came to me when she saw the project wasn’t working. She said she had a solution. Her studies in genetics led her to a candidate she was sure would work.”

“And when you found out who it was, you were only too happy to accept.”

“No, Gods damn it. I loved her too. I told Mariana it was a bad idea.”

“Like hell! You wanted her back. You always resented that she chose me.”

“Fuck you, Hob.” Nottingham turned, starting to make his way out of the court.

“You could never accept that she wanted to be with me! And now you’re bringing her back, just to prove a point. You just want to get even, you son of a bitch! You’ve got no right!”

At that Nottingham stopped, quivering with rage, “ Alright Hob, you want a fight? You’ve got it.”

Turning around, he continued, “No right? I had every right, you bloody cunt! I fought for law and order at home every second of every day while Richard was gone – playing at war. I kept what little order could be had while that bastard John was raping everything he could out of the country – and if it weren’t for me, he’d’ve been doing the same to the woman who became your wife.”

Incensed, Robin charged, “Bastard!” the first punch missed as Nottingham dodged.

“And then you came back,” Nottingham continued as he caught Robin with his knee and grabbed around his back to pin him in place, “with your dashing roguery,” hitting Robin again with his knee, “and swept her off her feet.”

Hood shook Nottingham off, “I was saving the people,” Robin landed an uppercut, busting Nottingham’s lip and causing him to stagger back, “from a dictator you were powerless to stop.”

“I didn’t need your help,” Nottingham feinted left, then connected with his right, breaking Robin’s nose, “and I didn’t need you to take her away from me, and I didn’t need you to get her killed!”

“Marion chose me, you idiot!” as he shouted, Hood unsheathed his sword. In a simultaneous action, Nottingham drew the gun at his hip. Both at the others throat, they panted, waiting for the other’s next move.

“Ahem,” came a small voice from the entryway to the court. In walked the Queen, who had been walking down the hallway, deep in discussion with Admiral Britannia. At the sight of the Queen, both turned away, full of shame.

“I am not amused,” she said, walking down the carpet leading to the throne. She gave a signal to Admiral Britannia that their discussion would continue later as she proceeded.

“Yes, Mum.” the two responded, still sheepishly looking down.

“You are to explain yourselves immediately,” she said sternly, “Nottingham?”

Nottingham paused for a moment. As he looked at the Queen, his black-eye and cut lip were already beginning to heal themselves, leaving only a few drops of blood on his lip, “…Sir Locksley and I were having a fundamental disagreement regarding the continuance of the Saint George, Mum,” as he mentioned Locksley, the sickening noise of Hood pushing his nose back into place could be heard.

“I have approved of Nottingham’s supervision of the Saint George program, Locksley… What is your objection?”

“The primary subject, Mum.” Hood spoke after sniffing in a drop of blood that was trickling out of his also already healing nostril.

“I was unaware that The Saint George had progressed to that point” she spoke to Nottingham, expecting an answer.

“Yes, Mum. I was coming here to inform you of that when Sir Locksley and I…”

“…began brawling like schoolyard children?” the Queen offered.

“Yes,” Nottingham replied, looking back to the ground.

“It does not surprise me that Locksley has discovered this intelligence before you had the chance to inform me,” at this she looked back to Hood, “You have an aggravating way of… obtaining hidden information.”

“Yes, Mum” was all Hood’s reply before he too looked back to the floor.

“Well, I am curious to know… What is the basis for this courtly unrest?” at this, she waited. After a sufficient pause, she added, “Locksley?”

“The primary subject is… is…” unable to finish his statement as intended, he stated, “unacceptable.”

“I see. Nottingham, if you will be so kind as to finish with your original undertaking and inform me of the identity of this newly established primary subject.”

He brought his gaze back to her and began, “Mum, the project was taking a down-turn when… It was brought to my attention that a prime candidate could be introduced with positive results. Upon that advisory, I made the decision to commence the program with said subject.”

“And this subject is…” the Queen replied, beginning to lose her patience.

“…Marion Fitzrobert” Nottingham spoke after pausing, with a seeming pain.

“Oh,” the Queen responded, somewhat stymied. After recovering, she continued, “And the program has commenced?”

“Yes, Mum.”

There was a long pause. The Queen deliberated, resolved, then spoke directly to Hood, “Locksley…”, she stopped and more sensitively continued, “Robin… As a matter of unquestionable national importance, I cannot halt the Saint George program. I am truly sorry.”

“Yes, Mum.” Hood replied, somewhat less firmly than he intended.

“Nottingham, your lack of sensitivity, as well as failure to keep me abreast of these developments will not be without consequences. However, due to the necessity the Saint George program, your punishment will be suspended until a time I see fit,” she spoke with a very severe tone.

“Yes, Mum.”

Unexpectedly, a thought came to the Queen, “Is Mariana aware of this development?”

“It… was her expertise and advisory with which I made the decision to commence” Nottingham responded.

“Interesting…” the Queen replied, “I shall need to speak to her, and you, as soon as possible, in private.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“… Your Majesty,” Hood spoke sullenly, after a great pause, “I apologize for my breach in decorum, in both this matter and in my next actions, but… in light of recent circumstances…” he began to proceed haltingly, his voice wavering as he spoke, “I would like to request a leave of absence.”

“Indeed. Your unconventional request is accepted, provided we are informed of your date of departure within twenty-four hours, and your return in…” she deliberately left space for him to reply.

“Not necessary Mum, I shall be leaving within the hour and will be keeping your Majesty and Mariana informed of my location weekly.”

“Duly noted,” she spoke matter-of-factly, and began to exit the court with Nottingham. Before making the final steps out, she turned back and spoke again in uncharacteristic sensitivity, “Robin… Please, return soon.”

{End transmission}

I hope you found something enjoyable in there,
~BK~

Somewhat More Bookery Reviewage

{A Preface: So, while I’m not going to go into details (because I’m not going to be that self-indulgent with this thing..yet), the last week and a half was a bit crap for me and that’s why I didn’t post. It’s not a very good excuse, and I intend to do better, but there you have it for now}

Alright, on to the point. While this week was not tremendously creatively fertile for me, I figured that was a good excuse to do some book reviewing (as I’ve already done a movie). In the past couple of months I’ve burned through a scad of quite good books… they make me want to be creative again, and I’ll tell you why with each one.

Ocean at the End of the Lane
I loved this book. I’m a huge fan of Gaiman, and this book has everything that makes me such a fan. This book is dark and supremely creepy in mood and tone, but at the same time it is told in such a warm and comforting way. It’s characters are these glimmering beacons of hope placed in a surprisingly haunted tale about the loss of childlike innocence. You are creeped-out by the story they are in, but by god you want to hug all of the protagonists. This book is, I would say, not quite as good as Gaiman’s Neverwhere, but ever so slightly better than Graveyard Book and Stardust (which I still love, mind you). I love the Hempstock family in this book, they have this charming mix of folksy magic and scientific specificity that makes them amazing as supernatural figures. And the end of the story is so damn heartwarming, even as it is tinted by loss…

I will always strive to achieve the warmth of Gaiman’s writing, even if I’m not as interested in achieving his level of creepy. I probably wouldn’t mind giving him a hug in real life, if I ever get the chance.

Ready Player One
Ernest Cline has done something rather remarkable that I may have a hard time explaining to a person whose childhood was not as thoroughly inhabited by video games and pop-culture as mine. The novel is fairly light cyberpunk, and it is focused heavily on making references to eighties and nineties geek culture — video gaming in particular. The idea is that the internet and massively multiplayer games like World of Warcraft have become ubiquitous in society. More succinctly, the internet as a concept has been enveloped within a massively multiplayer game called The OASIS — which is powered by the ultimate in haptic simulation technology (basically it’s the followthrough on all that cyberpunk virtual reality of movies like The Lawnmower Man, without the telekinesis and with far less horror). The vast majority of society has given up on slogging through the day to day grind of reality and has instead jumped into the cyberpunk-like cocoon that is the OASIS , and for reasons that you can read in the novel, it is closely connected to the video-games and movies of my youth… It would take pages and pages of blog entries just to try and detail all the references. The main plot is a pretty strong young-adult questing/romance story, and I greatly admire that Earnest Cline found a way to make geeky references into a pretty solid sci-fi romp. The only problem that I have with it is that its references are sometimes a bit further back than my youth, and I’d’ve liked some references to video games that existed past the eighties (he really glosses over most references that link to a time-period further along than the Atari)…

Again, he does do an incredible job, and you could easily shrug off my minor criticism(s) as nitpicking. He did something no one ever thought to try with geektitude and pop-culture with a great degree of success… and that makes me want to try something new as well.

And lastly…

Equal Rites
I had read Colour Of Magic some time ago and loved it, Pratchett has a way of being bafflingly insightful and outlandishly funny. His books are the writings of a man who is so genius, he is now literally losing his mind (I hope that doesn’t come off too jokey, because it desperately saddens me that we are losing this treasure to humanity). Anyway, The Light Fantastic, was good, but aside from a satirical re-imagining of Conan the Barbarian in his old age, that novel didn’t do quite as much for me. Equal Rites though, blew my hair back. The whole plot is a satire that plays with the notion of women’s rights issues (you know, like the ERA , and such-like). I want to make it abundantly clear, Pratchett is skewering those against equality for women, not the other way ’round. The plot focuses on the fact that, on the Discworld, only men could be Wizards and only women can be Witches (though the concept of Warlocks seems to prove troublesome as they’re very Witch-like men). Characters make arguments like “The reasons Wizards can only be men are ‘self-evident’!” and similar nonsense, and when he puts that argument into a fantasy setting, the hilarity and absurdity of similar, real-world arguments really shows. There are some awesome characters, like Granny Weatherwax (a witch of the Forrest who disdains the fact that her teeth wont fall out, nor can she grow a wart — because in the witching community, such maladies are instant credibility) and Eskarina (a girl who, at birth, mistakenly had a ritual performed upon her that would make her wizard). All of the support cast, for instance the stodgy, vaguely sexist professors at The Unseen University, fill out the story brilliantly… and no more than five pages went by in any given reading session wherein I wasn’t pummeled into laughing by Pratchett’s razor-sharp wordplay or wit, such as:

• “The lodgings were on the top floor next to the well-guarded premises of a respectable dealer in stolen property because, as Granny had heard, good fences make good neighbors.”
• “She was already learning that if you ignore the rules people will, half the time, quietly rewrite them so that they don’t apply to you.”

No nitpicks come to mind for me on this one, but I daresay some people might not be down for Pratchett’s crazy appositive-laden humor (I am also an unbridled lover of even the “lesser” books of Douglas Adams)… and maybe not everybody digs word-play like I do, but this book turned the hell out of my crank. I want nothing more than to even faintly glow of a similar wit in my own writing.

So there you have it. Another review, this time of a somewhat less pictographical medium. I’ll to get my next post up sooner.

~BK~

(One of) My Worlds of Words

So, my last post kind of went on and on (and on) with a movie review… and I dig that, but I also said that some of my own personal creative works would be poppin’ up from time to time. The Sholay review only had the slightest hint of connection to my creative stuff. I think I was trying to cram too many thoughts into one post really. I’ll try not to make this one “hugenormous”… (no promises, if you know me, you know I can jabber. It’s one of my endearing-yet-occasionally-annoying quirks.

I’m going to post some snippets I have written here, but I’d like to preface this with a bit of explanation: when I was younger, I would sometimes look at my writing and think I was doing something well — maybe my dialogue wasn’t strong, or this or that kind of description was lacking oomph — I chose what I think was an interesting way to deal with it. I decided to make some, well, test characters, I’ll call them. I originally wrote dialogue between a male and a female:

Braddock Kingsman (a sort of witty, faintly more attractive, everyman version of myself — hence a name vaguely resembling mine)

and

Ruby (I don’t think I’ve ever given Ruby a last name. She is — in essence — a sort of amalgamation of every woman I’ve ever dated, been a friend of, or been close to in any way. For this reason, her personality is sort of a quirky mosaic… but it does generally have consistency).

The idea of using my own stock characters for writing exercises began, and eventually became ingrained in me. Whenever I had moments where dialogue or descriptions I found charming came into my head, if they weren’t particularly fantastical or science-fictional, I would give them to Brad and Ruby. Eventually, of course, I had moments that didn’t fit a male-female conversation… So I added some other characters:

Brock (I guess I wasn’t in too creative of a mood, because “Brock” is just another shortening of Braddock. Brock as a name still fits though, because he’s meant to be kind of jocular and sort of a good-hearted scumbag… I shouldn’t say that fits, as there isn’t really link between the name “Brock” and scumbaggery, but it just works for this guy).

Kinks (also called Kink, or Kinky. She is called this because her last name is Kinkel… It is also a case of mild nominative determinism, as Kink is a free-spirited — overtly sensual — woman (though sexuality tends not to be a very conservative issue in my writing). She has a habit of regretfully cheating on significant others, but more often than not has open relationships.

It is perhaps of note that none that these characters are “bad”, they just often tend to make bad decisions — which of course makes them incredibly fun to write.

Not all of my writing has these designations, but I generally try to fit any random moments into a framework with these characters. Sometimes I only randomly come up with a line or two, and have yet to designate them to characters . Also, I often have little sort-of meet-cute-esque situations, wherein there is a discovery of romantic interest in one or other party, or similar events that may contradict one piece or other… So, I guess I have a lot of alternate versions in some of these stories… Maybe they’re parallel universe versions of the same stories…
Upon looking back through my personal archives, I have discovered fully more than six pages of material in this short-fiction universe of my mind. Instead of throwing it all up here willy-nilly, I’ll try to give you some of the more polished morsels — remember though (as they say in the up-town) “The first taste is always free..” (I love how ominous that sounds, just not sure what I’m really attempting to imply):

~~~ Commencing Short Fiction Sampling~~~

Bit 1 (Brad and Ruby):
The door to the apartment creaked slightly as she leaned on it, fumbling with her keys, one hand on the knob. After the fumbling was through, the familiar sound of the key’s insertion into the lock was the only noise. She turned the latch, opened the door, and – after a brief second of looking at her room beyond the door – slightly tipsily made her way into the room. Brad – equally, though perhaps a touch more so, inebriated – was following her closely, but not uncomfortably so. She tossed her keys into a small bowl on an end table by her couch designated for that purpose and turned around.

“You know, I’ve never been there before…your friends seem cool.”

“Well, that might’ve been because they were half in the bag when we got there.”

“I suppose so. What did you want to do now?”

“Well, I guess we coul…” he began absentmindedly, but was interrupted by her kissing him. He was surprised by that, but his mild shock was soothed by the warmth of her lips and breath. She was beginning to move her hands up to the top button of his shirt. After the initial intensity of the kiss eased, he pulled himself together, and leaned back a little, breaking off the kiss.

“Hey,” he spoke calmly, or at least gave it his best, “I know this seems like a good idea… and I’m all for it, but I’ve had a few drinks, and you’ve had a few drinks, and I just wanted to make sure this isn’t taking advantage of you. Are you sure you…”

He was cut off again, this time she had grabbed a fistful of his shirt with both hands and pulled him in for a much more aggressive kiss. Afterward, she let him go, to see his reaction. She looked at him with a questioning smile.

“… I’ll take that as a yes,” he managed, barely. Then a thought occurred to him and he pulled away again.

“One more thing… How do you like your eggs?” The question caught her off guard, and she looked at him puzzled, “…You know, for tomorrow morning?”

“Talking is one of your finer points, Sweetie. This time, though, you should let it go.”

She pushed him back. He stumbled, then fell on the couch. She then straddled him and kissed him on the neck. He looked back, knowing where it was going, and said, “Scrambled then?”

At this, he took the initiative and kissed her, putting his arms around her back. She gave a pleasant giggle, and they proceeded. After a while, they took a long enough break to make it into Ruby’s room, and continued.

~

Ruby awoke with the sun filtering through the blinds of her room, the warm light making her room very comfortable. Her sheets were pulled over her chest and tucked under one arm. The sheet was cool to her touch, and gently hugged the naked curves of her body. Her other arm was lazily draped across the other side of the bed. It took her a minute to realize that Brad wasn’t in the bed next to her. She looked around the room, but saw nothing. Pulling the sheet around her, she got out of the bed. She opened her bedroom door and looked around, wondering if there was a note or something.

“Brad?”

Almost immediately after she spoke, a loud clatter came from the kitchen area with a startled exclamation.

“Oh hey, you’re up,” as he talked he was picking up some pans and random kitchen accouterments he’d knocked over in his surprise, “I was just making us some breakfast. You did want scrambled, right?”

She had made her way to kitchen while he was cleaning up, and made an approving giggle at his question. He was fully dressed and busily putting the last bit of the randomly displaced kitchenwares in their proper place. She leaned on the door frame and rather marveled at him for a minute.

“How are you even… aren’t you the least bit – ?”

“Hungover?”

“Yeah…”

“Actually, no. I don’t really do the whole hangover thing, except with wine – cheap wine especially – and champagne, for some reason…”. All the while he was talking, he was making up a couple of plates of breakfast. He had managed to cook some pancakes, eggs, and bacon – as well as set up two charming place settings at her kitchen table.

“Brad, this is… Wow.”

“I hope you don’t mind… when I woke up, you were still so soundly sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. So I figured we could have a nice breakfast. I stepped out to the corner store for a bit to get some stuff. I did use your milk though, I can buy some more if you like.”

“And you did all this?” she said, surveying all the food on the table as well as the place settings.

“Yeah. I guess it’s a force of habit, my parents used to run a Bed and Breakfast… I couldn’t get the recipe for Pancakes out of my head if I wanted to, not to mention properly setting tables.”

“Well I suppose that does wonders for keeping a girl hooked?” she said with a hint of mischief. While speaking, she went to the table, and he pulled her chair out for her as he replied.

“You know, I never really thought about it that way. Although, while we’re on the subject…” he paused a second, thinking of how he wanted to continue, “we haven’t really made clear here exactly where we’re going with… this.”

She lifted her eyebrows as she picked up her fork.

“I mean,” he said, “are we going to do the ‘couple’ thing, or will you just be using me for sex?”

She had obviously not been expecting that, and her face showed it. Before she could respond, he smiled and added, “I’m perfectly happy with either.”

She was stunned for a second, recovered her smirk, and replied, “Well, I guess that depends on the quality of the pancakes”.

Bit 2 (Brad and Ruby):

He opened the door and was rather surprised by what he discovered. It was her, but not like any other time he had seen her. He had been fumbling with the less-than-fully-functional door latch in the process of opening the door when his line of sight fell to her. She was wearing what he could only think to describe as “an evening gown”. He knew she would’ve used a different term, as his was undoubtedly wrong for it, but that was forgivable – as he had never exactly been a scholar of women’s fashion. Her dress was dark green and shimmered in the porch light. It was strapless, ended somewhat below her knees, and left her shoulders bare but for a shawl. It vaguely reminded him of T.V. shows from the 50’s. She seemed whimsically unconcerned by the fact that the shawl was unevenly placed on her shoulders and dangling dangerously close to the ground. As his eyes took in her visage from her brown hair – obviously done earlier in the evening, but now slightly disheveled – to her matching green, toeless heels, he noticed that her finger and toenails were painted to match her shawl. He failed to notice that she was leaning on the outer door frame as he opened the inner door.

After some time standing there with his mouth faintly agape, he managed to get out ,“Hey, you look… er…” before returning to his ever so slightly astonished gaze.

“Right then, you can close your mouth now. I know, I look… Oh, stand still a sec,” she had walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder for balance as she took off her shoes, “Ugh, those were an awful choice. Anyway, I know. I look overdressed.”

She was still using his shoulder for balance as she started to rock back and forth on the balls and heels of her feet and flex her toes.

“I was going to say ‘you look amazing’,” he said after finally regaining coherent speech capabilities.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well…”

“I’m just messing with you. Thank you, Brad,” She said sincerely, then hugged him, and then stopped on the balls of her feet long enough to kiss his cheek. She then side-stepped him and entered the house, making her way through the foyer.

As he turned around to follow her, he paused, “Wait, did I miss something?”

She turned back around and catching sight of his cheek said, “Oh, sorry about the lipstick…”

“What?” he looked to the mirrored door of the cabinet he was passing, and noticed that her lipstick had smeared on his cheek and began to wipe at it with the shoulder of his well-worn T-shirt, which caused her to chuckle.

“No, you didn’t miss anything,” she said after her laugh subsided, and then clarified, “I just figured I’d come by and see you.”

“Well, I’d gotten that far already.”

“Then why ask?”

“Well, you see, usually we talk, we kid, we walk around, we bullshit, we watch movies, we even cuddle sometimes… but you’re never particularly clear about –”

“Look, Brad. I like you – unusually much, for a guy who’s a bit of a stuffed shirt…”

“ See that? Mixed signals.”

“Let me finish: I like you. I really do, you’re charming – in a completely unintentional, and surprisingly cute way – but I’ve had some issues with being too impulsive. I’ve soured kind of a lot of friendships… This is going somewhere, and I know I’m being a bit unfair, but please, will you bear with me – for a while – just till I can get my head on straight?”

After a moment’s pause, Brad spoke, “Wow… you just said a lot of things there. I mean – you just packed so much information into so few sentences. Impressive really, but I do want to see where this is going, and I’ll bear with you as long as it takes… as long as it doesn’t involve real bears, that’s not what we’re talking about, right?”

“You see, that was devastatingly cute,” she said. She was clearly on a mission and did not let the comment break her stride.

Following her Brad asked, “Er… where you going, Ruby?”

“…To your kitchen.”

“Will it bother you if I tell you I don’t have any food?”

“Not a bit, I assumed you didn’t.”

“So, are you going to let me know where you were earlier this evening, that required such a lovely dress?”

Bit 3 (Brad and Brock ***WARNING: I scrubbed some salty language here***):

“Yeah, I get it man. You don’t want to f*** something up. This chick is a good friend and you don’t want to… uh, sh** where you eat, maybe? Is that the right context for that expression? Oh, who cares? You know what I mean.”

“You really think so?”

“What are you, high? Of course not! This chick likes you… not like, moderately into you… She’s digs you, and she even knows what a damned weirdo you are. Go for it.”

“I’m not going to just…”

“Look man, before you even say it… I’m not saying ‘f*** and forget’ her. I mean, you’ve got a chance to connect with her, dude. You don’t get many chances at that kind of relationship… Yeah, maybe it goes up in flames, but maybe it doesn’t. Who knows?”

“This is coming from a dude who brags about his conquests…. like the laundry room story?”

“Hey, if those girls have any dignity whatsoever they’ll return that nightstick to that cop, and never speak to me again… and I wont blame them. But they weren’t exactly looking for a deep connection, dude. They were looking for a good lay with an ass****, and I was there to provide.”

Bit 5 (Some Brad chatter-blind dialogue):

“Hey, has anyone ever told you that you have really white teeth… I mean like really, really, really white teeth: like Snow White, but without the dwarves, because that would be kind of creepy with them in your mouth – probably mining for gold or something – Hi-ho… Oh, I should also mention that I’m working on a new thing: awkward compliments for humor’s sake, I probably should have started with that.”

Bit 6 (Clearly Brad and somebody… maybe Ruby?):

“Tell you what, how about I buy you some lunch and you can tell me about your date?”

“Wouldn’t that be a sort-of personal conflict of interest for you?”

“What, because I’m romantically interested in you and you’ll have none of it?”

“In a nutshell.”

“Nonsense. The way I see it is this: maybe you’ll come around, because you know how good of a guy I can be if I ever make any progress on being less, well… but even if that never happens, you still mean a tremendous deal to me as a friend. You rank exceedingly high on my list of favorite people.”

“…That was actually touching, Braddock,” she said with a bit of an awkward laugh, “I don’t know how to respond to your sincerity though.”

“Let me make it easier for you to go back to thinking of me as clever, funny, but still a bit of a pig. Maybe someday, if I remain your sounding board and shoulder to cry on for long enough, you’ll get drunk and decide to throw me a bone whilst simultaneously trying to feel better on a rebound.”

In an effort to stifle a bit of a laugh, she frowned after a slight pause and wryly said, “That’s terrible. You should feel awful.”

“Indeed I should, and know that I would never wish relationship turmoil on you, but it’s the only way that I see that working out for me.”

Bit 7 ( my most recent addition, likely an exchange between Kink and someone — perhaps Brock… WARNING: this one deals with topics of an intimate nature in a conversational way):

“To answer your question, I would describe myself of a rather fluid sexual persuasion.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Here, I’ll explain it like this: you know some people are amibidextous? Well, I could be called ambisextrous.”

“Meaning…”

“Some people can use either hand to full efficiency, with no dominancy… I can use either hand to pleasure a member of either sex to full effect… with occasional dominancy, if so desired.”

“…Oh. Cool.”

~~~ End Fictional Transmission ~~~

Alright. I hope that was enjoyable. Let me know what you liked (would want to see more of), disliked (would like to see less of), or thought of while reading (responses good or bad are welcomed and encouraged)… It will likely affect what I decide to post and when, crazily enough… Heck I might even bust out on of them newfangled polls they say I can make at some point. Thanks for reading, friend.

Basanti, don’t dance in front of these dogs! [Basanti, In kutto ke samne mat nachna]

So I figured it’d be worthwhile to get this party started with a textbook example of the type of of the type of movie-review-that-inspires-creative-ideas posts that I presume will be defining this Blog…

So, I recently re-watched an international flick that I have a lot of love for. While I generally tend to lean toward Samurai films — those of the Kurosawa-esque persuasion(some of my favorites being Yojimbo  and Seven Samurai, which may get their own post later), the Zatoichi flicks, and the Samurai Trilogy tend to rank high in my book — I am also unabashedly a fan of some lesser-known-to-an-American-crowd international cinema as well.

[Side note: In just mentioning these Samurai flicks I have realized that I could probably also bore you to death with going on and on about Kung Fu/Wuxia movies ’til I was blue in the face, and you were blue in the ears, but I want to try and not get too far off point in my ramblings this early in my Blog’s life]

All of that, however, is not what I wanted to talk about today. You see, I like to chatter about movies — and narratives in general — with friends. For now, I’m going to talk about some other international cinema. My predilection towards “absorbing all storytelling” often forces me to make my friends watch movies they haven’t seen so I can have conversations about them — thoughtlessly forcing academic discussions about movies on my friends is one of my grievous and sundry flaws. I like to think the fact that these movies are actually viewed in a movie theater makes up for some of the elements of abuse. One such friend is Austin Voll (If’n you want me to de-link this, brother, let me know), and one such film is:

You have no idea how ridiculous, awesome, ridiculously awesome, and awesomely ridiculous this movie is…

I originally watched Sholay years ago when my brother was taking an international cinema course while getting his bachelor’s degree in Media and Theater Arts (it would be fair to call it a Film degree), and I fell in love with the flick. It is both charming and cinematically/culturally impressive. I am not only a sucker for watching movies in general, the movie also appealed to me because I am also a huge fan of learning about other cultures — and this charming Bollywood movie is actually a pretty big deal in Indian culture in general.

Now, I’m no expert on the subject of Indian movie culture — nor am I anywhere near an expert on Indian culture in general — but I like to think of myself as a pretty worldly dude, so I’ll try to relate the movie’s significance in a way Americans can understand…  I think a reasonable way to try and understand it is this: when we try to explain culturally significant american movies, think about how in the U.S. whenever Thanksgiving and Christmas roll around, you cannot escape a viewing of The Wizard of Oz and It’s a Wonderful Life on cable, respectively… or come Christmas time in England when families gather around the T.V. for the yearly viewing of The Great Escape … that’s the kind of pull Sholay has in India. To this day, you’ll see bumper-stickers or hear people quoting Sholay like in India comparable to when American people throw out a “Merry Christmas, you ol’ savings and loan!” or drop a “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”

The movie, beloved and worthy of attention as it may be, is not without its problems. I’ll air those out first before I leap to the good stuff. Firstly: the movie is thee hours and fifteen minutes long… while I’m not a stickler who demands short movies, there is probably a good hour of chuffa — sometimes the camera lingered, and there was excessive time spent on side-stories with comparatively small relevance to the overall plot — that could’ve been cut. Secondly, by nature of the film being a Bollywood flick from the 60’s, you should know that the production value is at times a bit hard to look at, people are often firing guns with the only indicator being that ricochet sound that is in so many movies with gunfire.

That said, it’s still a great movie. Among its most beautiful of qualities is that it is an early and excellent example of a Marsala film: sometimes it’s a Western, sometimes it’s a Romance, sometimes it’s a Comedy, sometimes it’s a Tragedy, sometimes it’s a Musical, and there’s even a part toward the end where it basically becomes a Kung Fu flick for a bit. The genres are generally mixed pretty admirably, and many of the individual parts are surprisingly strong — even when they’re over the top.

The flick is ostensibly about two good-hearted ne’er-do-well bandit types — Veeru (played by the Bollywood Romance/Action superstar Dharmendra) and Jai (played by another Bollywood megastar, Baritone Amitabh Bachchan, whose meteoric rise to fame got its footing during Sholay) — who get enlisted by a small town leader (called a Thakur — who is also a pretty cool/kick-ass character) to stop the tyranical reign of a psychotic baddie called Gabbar Singh) holding the town under his thumb. I say ostensibly because the story veers and careens through widely differing plot points:

• There’s a high octane scene where Jai and Veeru stop a gang from robbing a train and saved the Thakur’s life.
• A tragic, Spaghetti-Western style explanation of how Thakur wants revenge on Gabbar Singh for killing his entire family.
• Jai and Veeru briefly spend time in a prison that has a charmingly Chaplin-esque, incompetent Warden. Goofy hijinks ensue and humor abounds.
  
• Jai and Veeru are romantically interested in girls from the town. Jai pursues a woman in mourning (she shares a majority of the family of Thakur). Veeru, on the other hand gets romantically entangled with the town cart driver and chatter-box, Bashanti, in many funny, adorable, and heart-warming moments I’ll not spoil here.
• There are a number of musical breaks, mostly for reasons that are surprisingly reasonable (by which I mean with the exception of one, there is a reason in the movie for people to be singing). The only unexplained music break happens while Jai and Veeru ride a motorcycle (with a surprising amount of “ride-dancing”, I’ll call it) and sing, presumably about how cool and freely they live as ne’er-do-wells. One number is sang at Color Festival… I suppose that makes enough sense. The final song-and-dance break may be the most most badass song-and-dance break I’ve ever seen in a movie: unlike, say a Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movie – where Fred Says something quipy, Ginger’s unimpressed, and as Fred walks away he pauses as the music cue hits, signaling it is time to inexplicably dance and sing – Sholay instead has the villainous Gabbar kidnap and tie-up Veeru, then force his girlfriend to not stop singing or dancing for Gabbar’s gang or he will chop off Veeru’s arms. Now that is a dance break! This moment is also what inspired the name of this blog entry.
• And finally, the movie culminates with, and I’m not kidding here, what is basically a Kung Fu showdown… there is one element that makes it even crazier and cooler, but it’s another thing I don’t want to ruin for you. Suffice it to say, there is spectacular unarmed combat.

All of these disparate elements really seem like they shouldn’t work, but they just do… so, so well. Frankly put, I’ve been so enamored of this movie for such a long period that I want to seed references to it in my own writing. Years ago I made some characters in my own writing who just so happened to be gamblers and lovable ne’er-do-wells, nick-named Ace and Deuce (I was young and it seemed cool. I still like them enough to use them, but it became my intention to elaborate on their characters). These characters are pirates (I’ll give those of you who know me a brief break in which to insert a wry and knowing chuckle here)… When the time came to expand their characters beyond my adolescent “this sounds cool” idea, Jai and Veeru quickly came to mind (them as a basis allows me to piggyback on their charm, as well as add some multi-cultural aspect to the characters without beating people over the head with it)… an added benefit as well is that, after I’m done writing the pirate novel the characters are currently in, I could always have a piratical re-imagining of Sholay in my back-pocket if I wanted to write more about these characters.  Perhaps I’ll tell you more about them some other time.

Okay, so I intend for these posts to more about my creative process as well as influences/reviews from here on in (instead of just a coda at the end), but this is the kind of stuff I’m going to try to put up here when I can.

~BK~

A Rose by Any Other Name…

…is just as pretentious.

I guess I wanted to get this ol’ bad boy started by explaining the title. I figure that is a pretty good starting point. You see, it works on a couple of different levels. Firstly, I happen to dig word play. As I imagine my word-play might be a bit obtuse in this case, I’ll explain it to you: Topical Bret Stream is a play on the term Tropical Jet Stream. I tend to be very free-associative in my bloggery, so I thought it would be a solid parallel to draw. I tend to have a thought, and that leads to another thought, and so on — in a very stream of consciousness kind of way. Moreover, just as weather patterns and planes tend to get shuffled around by Jet Streams, so go my thoughts. Often times, a hint of an idea (or topic) crashes into another idea in a way that combines into a larger thought that directs my thinking patterns in a much broader sense. Were I to use literary terms, as my collegiate career has trained me to do somewhat effectively, I would say I think in a highly intertexual manner. I’ll try not to bog this sucker down with too much highly specific vocabulary, but know now that I sometimes get carried away with that stuff.

Some hallmarks of my free-associative thought process is relating topics/ideas/thoughts to great books and movies. In particular, you shouldn’t be surprised if references to some of my literary heroes come up early and often — especially Shakespeare (as you may have picked up from the title entry of this post) and the works of Lewis Carroll (because after-all, in the words of the Cheshire Cat:

is how I generally tend to frame my personal understanding of this oblate orange we cling to for dear life).

Expect some clever, some crazy, some creativity, and cultural references a-plenty– literary, popular, and otherwise — as you surf this tiny piece of intellectual property that is hidden in a dark, yet cozy corner of the World Wide Interweb.

~BK~