Sebastian, issue two

First few paragraphs of this can be seen:

http://adventuresofasuburbanstreetposse.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/sebastian.html

On this morning the alarm was allowed 5 dulling rings before he begrudgingly swung his arm with an accurate blow to the ‘snooze’ button. This was followed by the usual morning denial, as Sebastian asked himself whether he really needed to get up, before concluding the same answer he always did – yes – and removing the covers with a sigh.

He put on his dressing gown and mechanically walked down the stairs in the same steps he did yesterday and the day before. When your life revolves around the same routine, over and over again, it’s drilled into your hard-drive and robotically becomes all you’re used to. Eventually all you’re used to becomes all you dare to do, and the thought of leaving what you know so well is utterly absurd. If you live like a robot, you will become a robot, as Sebastian was oblivious to oh so well.

When he reached the kitchen, clean but for a few pots and pans waiting to be dried and sentenced back to their rightful place, he reached to his right and turned on the lightswitch without looking. He then turned towards the cupboards on his left and removed a bowl - a dull blue and something you’d expect to find as state regulation kitchenware in a Communist regime. He bought it from a car boot sale 3 years ago and always ate breakfast from it.

After pouring himself the Supermarket value equivalent of Rice Krispies, whatever they were called – he never read the packet - he sat himself in his chair at the four person table in his dining room. It was 5 to 7 and he mused to himself about the day ahead and what exciting endeavours it might entail. He wondered whether Carly had replied to his email about his departmental budget and where he might go to lunch that day. He then decided he would go to the café he always went to, although it wasn’t really a decision; it was more of a reaction.

When you do your times-tables enough, knowing that 7 multiplied by 8 is 56 isn’t mathematical logic – it’s just a reaction. It’s something you know, as a fact, and something you wouldn’t challenge because you know it’s right. You don’t need to re-examine the logic because you’ve examined it before and you still trust it and don’t see why it need be changed. It was the same for Sebastian and going to that café for lunch: a long time ago he’d asked himself where he wanted to go for lunch and he thought the café looked nice, nicer than the canteen at work some of his colleagues went to and nicer than that bistro down the road. He didn’t see why any of this had changed, and when he asked himself what he wanted to do for lunch, he wasn’t really asking. He just followed the logic he always had; that logic he trusted and that had never let him down, that never changed.

Confident in this reaction, Sebastian cleared the table and went back upstairs to shower and get dressed. He had no lingering regrets about his decision and as far he was concerned that was the issue solved for the day, another little victory in a day of tiny hurdles.

What happens when I fill out an application form for a freelance writing site.

Describe a hop bush:

A "hop bush" is an affectionate term for a well-known children's game, which involves locating an item of foliage, and "hopping" over it, so to speak, in a manner designed to provoke frivolity amongst participants and spectators alike. At times, the bush in question may be excessively large, and the bush-hopper's resultant fall into the complex of wood and greenery has been known to result in a jovial sense of slapstick humour. The method favoured by today's younger generations involves an additional stipulation of the unwritten set of rules; the bush must be private property, generally belonging to a prominent public figure, or at least somebody in a high tax bracket. Devoted bush-hoppers will meticulously research their target on Google to establish that their activity is justified. Once the bush has been hopped over, in a manner not dissimilar to a bunny rabbit's preferred method of transportation, those who participate in the festivities will feel like they have suitably shown a proverbial middle-finger to the establishment.

List the steps to roofing a house:

Step #1 - get a house (note: preferably one with no roof - the presence of a roof can cause insurmountable complications in a roof-buidling situation)
Step #2 - purchase a large amount of bricks, mortar (note: not the time-honoured item of heavy artillery) and a ladder (note: one can also choose to purchase thatch, but this leaves the homeowner susceptible to attacks by Big, Bad Wolves)
Step #3 - put bricks on top of the house, and stick them there with mortar. This can be achieved via the twin arts of putting and sticking. The ladder will be of valuable assistance to the act of one's ascension to the hightened level of the roof.
Step #4 - repeat the above step for a number of days.
Step #5 - build a chimney. The absence of a chimney can be of great inconvenience to Father Christmas, and nobody likes a Scrooge. This involves bricks and stuff.
Step #6 - hey presto! You now have yourself a roof. You've left the bricks to dry and now, no longer will the upper storey of your house be as frosty as the current economic climate, and aircraft-bound voyeurs will be hindered in their peeping-tommery as their vision is eclipsed by a nice, confident roof, made out of bricks and mortar and ladders. Congratulations. You've made it in the world.

Tell us about your favourite website:

[the site I'm applying to] is my favourite website of all time, for a number of reasons. For a start, the generously large text boxes provided in their application form are a beautiful sight to behold, almost as beautiful as the beige background that adds a wistful sense of gorgeous melancholy to proceedings. When I said "a number" of reasons, I meant "two". Two is a number, and thus I was entirely justified in my phrasing of that sentence. Perhaps I should have said "an even number" and narrowed down the criteria, but that doesn't have the same catchy ring to it.

What makes you a better fit for this position than other applicants?

I'm not aware of the other applicants, their merits and foibles; in fact I think they could very well all be infinitely better than me. One of my virtues would be that I'm very prolific - for instance, I recently wrote a novel twice the length of War & Peace in the time it took me to drink a cup of tea. However, the tea had gone rather sour by the end of the decade. Another literary endeavor of mine was compared contemporaneously to the 'Gonzo journalism' of Hunter S. Thompson's Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas. The only reason you won't have heard of it is that, when I went to present it to the publisher, I realised that I'd merely taken a large arsenal of psychedelic drugs instead of actually writing the novel.

Revised best movies of 2011

Howdy, I've now finished my exams (which I will never speak of again), and written the first draft of my screenplay (more on that some other time) so I feel I should devote some more time to getting back into short-form writing. For a start, my list of this blog's favourite movies of the year 2011 was, simply, a big old load of bullshit. A film like Horrible Bosses was enjoyable fluff, sure, but Top 10 material? No way! Here is a Top 15, with some little blurbs by the movies I neglected to watch by my self-imposed deadline for the last one.

15. The Ides of March

Written by George Clooney, Grant Heslov and Beau Willimon

Directed by George Clooney

14. Horrible Bosses

Written by Michael Markowitz, John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein

Directed by Seth Gordon

I did like this one! You don't see Kevin Spacey much these days, do you?

13. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Written by Bridget O'Connor and Peter Straughan

Directed by Tomas Alfredson

12. Submarine

Written & Directed by Richard Ayoade

11. Super 8

Written & Directed by J.J. Abrams

10. The Rum Diary

Written & Directed by Bruce Robinson (I like how the "written & directed"s are starting to come thick and fast. I prefer a director to write their own films)

9. 50/50

Written by Will Reiser

Directed by Jonathan Levine

I'm always surprised by how many films I like that involve the acting of Seth Rogen. Here he's Joseph Gordon Levitt's best friend, and Joseph has cancer. Will Reiser wrote a great script based on his own experiences, which compensates for Jonathan Levine's pedestrian straight-off-the-TV directorial style. At times it feels like a generic tearjerker, but I think this film's deeper than that. A good one.

8. Blackthorn

Written by Miguel Barros

Directed by Mateo Gil

7. Drive

Written by Hossein Amini

Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn

Hey, the director spells his name like Nicolas Cage!

6. Red State

Written & Directed by Kevin Smith

Any long-term readers of this blog will be well aware that I hate, hate, hate religion, and Kevin Smith's best film since Dogma*, while not exactly concurring with me, puts forth a pretty good case for how belief enables despicable people to do despicable things. Sure, it can lead people to, say, philanthropy too but, frankly, I find it hard to sympathise with somebody who needs an imaginary friend and an ancient book to tell them to be nice to people. As a defiantly anti death-penalty type, I too find it hard to mourn the death of any religious fundamentalist, as they're definitely closer to their God than ever before. I literally became furious at this thought-provoking film as it occured to me that figures like Michael Parks' fire-and-brimstone preacher actually exist, and no doubt would gun down heathens searching for sin if they could. Of course, in the hilariously anti-climatic and very well-written all-but-final scene, Smith puts forth a far better argument than I feel able to at the moment, which culminates in a simple "fuck these people." 

To return to Parks, his performance has been praised more than any other aspect of this underrated film, yet he performs an incredible sermon at one point, which has received much criticism for going on and on and on and on. I watched this on the last day of school, so maybe I was too drunk and stoned to notice, but I was sucked in by the power of this man's acting. The length (15 mins or so, I think?) didn't seem excessive. It didn't grind the movie to a standstill. Kevin Smith knows how to write great dialogue and, while the more action-based John Goodman-helmed segment may be more immediately thrilling, not to mention the traditional teen horror setup at the start, there's more power in Parks' disgusting monologue than in anything physically violent.

*I'm just saying that, by the way. I haven't seen any Kevin Smith films that came out between this and Dogma, because I'm told they all suck cock. No! No! No! Wait! I saw that Jay & Silent Bob film. What an awful film that was.

5. The Skin I Live In

Written & Directed by Pedro Almodóvar

I'm such a lazy writer that I'm just pooped after churning out a couple of paragraphs on Red State, but primarily the reason for this blurb's brevity is that The Skin I Live In is a film that must be approached with an open mind. Some of the elements involved in its labyrinthine plot are; a bank robber dressed in a tiger costume, a vaginoplasty, a vendetta of incredible magnitude, medical corruption and the greatest performance by Antonio Banderas one could hope to imagine.

4. Carnage

Written by Yasmina Reza & Roman Polanski

Directed by Roman Polanski

Acclaimed child molester Roman Polanski seemed to release this film casually, with little fanfare. The reasons for this one slipping under the radar no doubt lie in its almost claustrophobic feel for a major motion picture, which comes from the story's origin in the theater. Set entirely in one apartment (ok, I lie; there are some shots of a playground, a lift and a hallway too. Shoot me!), the acting is top-drawer, with Jodie Foster, Kate Winslet, Christoph Waltz (you know...Tarantino's "Jew Hunter") and John C. Reilly. They fight, and bond, and then they fight again and, yeah, mostly they fight. Pretty good movie. It ain't no Chinatown, but he's still got it.

3. Rango

Written by John Logan

Directed by Gore Verbinski

2. Shame

Written by Steve McQueen & Abi Morgan

Directed by Steve McQueen

Not that Steve McQueen. This isn't Bullit. No, no, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. Michael Fassebender and Carey Mulligan are the best actor and actress around, at least of their generation. Yes, they both get TOTALLY FULL FRONTAL. It's a film about SEX. It might as well be a PORNO, eh? Sounds like an interesting novelty, but you don't care when you're watching this film. It's a masterpiece, and tenfold better than Midnight In Paris, but a tiny notch down in preference. Harrowing and stunning and amazing. I could hardly think once I'd watched it.

1. Midnight In Paris

Written & Directed by Woody Allen

EDIT: Oh fuck Kill List! Classic movie.

Note from Jack

Exams -Stop- Trying to revise -Stop- Failing -Stop- Worth a go, though -Stop- Hence no stories for a little while -Stop- Finish on Thursday -Stop- Least Harvey's back to keep you company -Stop-

Over and out.

Exams

As of last Friday, my exams are over.

I know that first year 'doesn't count' and that at school they used to tell us that the step up to Sixth Form is harder than the step up to first year, but I have never worked harder in my life. I have never been one of those annoying motivated cunts who is just able to drum up the effort from seemingly nowhere to put in the preparation for exams, but for the past month or so I was exactly that.

I estimated a while back that I did about 20 hours revision for my A Level end of year exams. This is bearing in mind that 2/3 of them did not have January modules and were my entire year in one horrific sitting. I must have done at least 6 times that for these bad-boys. English, I didn't revise at all. It was hard to revise English because all you can really do is learn quotes, but my memory for those kind of things is, thankfully, awesome and there wasn't much additional memorising I needed to do. And I've never been a 'past paper' guy either; I think it's because if I struggle doing a past paper I'll just terrify myself ahead of the exam. In Year 12 I remember before my English exam I handed in a half-arsed past paper essay effort to my English teacher in the morning, she pointed out the obvious that it wasn't great, and then realising I couldn't revise at all at school I went into a fit of crazy and ran home, but my mum was out and I didn't have my keys so ended up waiting outside my house for half an hour. Eventually I got inside and chilled out for a bit, then did some work. That was my exam preparation, and as shambolic as it was I got the highest mark in the year for that exam so I must have found calm somewhere.

Geography I revised most for, I think. I know a lot of people, including myself, take the piss out of Geography but there's a lot of subject matter to cram in your brain which meant I had to do a lot more work to prepare for it. In both Years 12 and 13 I revised by going through the entire year in one day, which basically involved typing up the textbook and then committing it to memory. 

Everyone looks back at SATS and says they were easy, then everyone looks back at GCSEs and says they were easy and now I'm looking back at A-Levels, thinking how considerably easier they were. 12 hour shifts were never a daily thing for me before, but the sheer amount of stuff I had to know and the sheer amount of stuff that my brain needed serious effort to understand made them necessary. I was working 6-12 hours for a month just to pass these things.

One evening before my Public Law exam I was going through these flash cards (never done that before either) outlining what different provisions of the PACE Act did and I was so mentally exhausted my mind couldn't combine the effort of putting the cards down the right way round. I was learning 200 cases to heart per exam, and I still look at certain names of people or companies and immediately my mind connects them with the case and goes through the facts, only these names are a completely different context. 

This is really fucking hard. I've never been worked like this before and I've finally found that cut-off point where natural talent and bullshit won't carry me through any longer. Everyone finds it, and for me it's here. But I'll be gladder for putting myself through all of this if I can come through it unscathed; a stronger man, an even more pretentious lawyer. Jeff Winger never had to put up with this shit.

And now, I'm bored because there's nothing to do. I've already started reading for next year. But being able to lie-in is a godsend, and I'm slowly sleeping off those working hours.

Sebastian

I've started writing what I hope might be some kind of novel, one day, maybe. It steals from ideas that I've published before, but I guess it's kind of an extension on that short extract I published a while back, Cause and Effect. This will hopefully (and I say hopefully because it would be swell just being able to complete it as a project) be a story about Sebastian, a 27 year old waster who has essentially given up on life in knowing that nothing's worthwhile and how he finds a girl who changes this. There's not much to work with so far, I admit, but we'll see how this goes on and develops. Hopefully it will develop at any rate.

Regardless, here you go:

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In the great conga line of cause and effect, the only choice you will ever make is if you trudge along or dance.

Sebastian had trudged his way through the monotonous school system into his monotonous job in his own monotonous office. The walls, like his life, were bare; void of enjoyment and painted in soullessness. Every morning he would wake up on the same side of the bed he always did to the same ringing sound of the alarm, reminding him he was still alive, in lieu of barely remembering himself. Like Prufrock, he had measured out his life in coffee spoons and he sat himself at the edge of the table: close enough to hear the conversation but never so much as to engage in what they were saying, and far enough away for nobody to notice his empty look barrelling down to his hollow interior.

At 27 years old, he had spent his life getting by on the very least required. He lived his life on the edge of the minimum quartile and, having never pushed himself, stood motionless as the world moved ahead of him, as people got promoted above him and as the friends he once knew raced ahead, leaving him behind in that same spot he’d grown so accustomed to. People spend their lives looking for that feeling of ‘home’; for children it’s returning to their house after a long day at school to disappear into their own little world, for adults it’s that special person with whom they create that shared fantasy of sense of belonging, for Sebastian it was that lonely spot in between his bed and his work, that he knew would never leave him if he promised in return never to leave it.