The Clog of a Bunt

Songs of Amaze(ment...)

2010-01-29T09:57:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the crappy pun as a title.
I decided to do a little music hunting on iTunes today, and was pleasantly surprised to find Hadouken! have released a new album. Music For The Masses was released 25th December, and I had no idea. Proves how much University drains my "up to date-ness". Either way, the following video is their song Mic Check, and one of my favourites from the album:

Definitely worth a listen. I would write a humorous and in-depth review, but I really can't be bothered. I just suggest you take a listen to it yourself. If you like grimey dance music fresh from the underground scene then you'll love this album. Wonderful.

Another song I've particularly fallen in love with is this wee gem:

It's a beautiful song; very relaxing and well written. Again, I'd review their album which I got today, but I can't be bothered. Sorry for the rather lame, rushed post but I really wanted to spread these songs and get the two bands more listeners because they're definitely worth the money.

Take care guys,
Sam.

Words you've never heard before.

2010-01-27T09:53:00.001-08:00

After a pretty productive day of slaving towards my Psychology degree, I came across a new word - cormorbidity. This addition to my vocabulary influenced me to explore further and find new words that nobody (or nearly nobody) has heard of or used. See how many you know from my list below (and be honest!).

Here we go:

Comorbidity: The state of having more than one disease at a time. Depression is a very common disease with regards to cormorbidity. For example, people with Alzhemier's very often suffer from depression to; they are cormorbid.
Morbidity: Having only one disease? No, think again. I fell into this trap; morbidity is a "diseased state" or "being in a mentally unhealthy state". So by logical reasoning, if you're cormorbid, you must be morbid as well. How morbid...
Eructation: "The process of releasing gas from the digestive tract through the mouth". Yep, that's right, burping. Next time we meet, we should definitely have an eructation contest.
Confabulate: Women do it way too much. That's right, ironing! Oh wait, no, there's no such thing as a woman ironing too much... I meant chatting. According to the Daily Mail, too much confabulation causes cancer!*
Abstemious: Something student's definitely don't do. It means to moderate levels of drinking. Shakespeare, however, used the word in a play to mean 'moderation of sex'. Not happening, bud. Mmmm, budweiser...
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Now we all know the man who made the word "lisp" with an "s" in was, undoubtedly, a bellend. Wait till you hear this though. Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words. I shit you not, Google it! I saw this and just had to include it. I might make another list: "words that HAD to have been created by an evil warlord smashed on whiskey".
Crytoscopophilia: I'm certain that we all do it. It's the urge to look in people's windows as you pass by. We've all done it. You walk down the street, innocently take a peek through the window - gazing aimlessly at the living room of some random's house. I think this term is used for those who are obsessed with it though; people who just cannot pass a window without peeking in at Mr. Jenkins watching Country File. Not that I know Mr. Jenkins. Or watch him. Or know what Country File is...
Encyclopaedophile: Nope, there isn't a new neighbourhood sex offender called Encyclo. This actually means someone who is sexually attracted to, or has sex with, books. Kudos for anyone who brings this up in natural, daily conversation**.
Cruciverbalism: The art of finishing crosswords to their full extent. Or even just being a fan of crosswords. Whatever floats your boat.
Liripoop: Nope, Liripoop is not the sewage that is unfairly expelled into the river Liri in Italy. Nor is it the excrement from my friend Liri***. Rather, it is the small tassle that hangs from a graduation robe or hat. Let's hope me, and my fellow student friends, will be playing around with lots of liripoops in the next few years!

and finally Tittynope: The use of this word in a crowd will certainly raise eyebrows among the crudest folk of the bunch, but joke's on them! The word means any scrap of food or drink that is left behind. Those pea's you couldn't quite stomach? Tittynopes. That froth at the bottom of your pint glass? A tittynope. The fingernails of your latest victim? Tittynopes. You get the picture.

I hope reading this hasn't left you in a morbid state!
Sam.

*They don't really. Just a joke I kind of stole from a Facebook group, explaining how the Daily Mail believe everything you can possibly think of causes cancer - including tap water and babies.
**Without simply saying "I learnt a new word of this sexy guy's blog last night!"
***I don't actually have a friend called Liri, I'll just clear that up now.

Celebrity Heroes?

2010-01-25T10:18:00.001-08:00

I was watching an episode of Hell's Kitchen USA today on ITV Player, and came to realise that I actually have a massive man-crush on Gordon Ramsay. I know he looks like a horribly burnt and scarred hippo, but he's such an amazing person, with talent oozing out of every orifice. I therefore decided to blog about my Celebrity heroes; people I admire for their talent and success. What would make this post more enjoyable is if you comment below with your heroes, and tell me why you love them so much*.

Without further ado**, here's my celebrity heroes (in NO particular order).
Feel free to let me know if you agree or disagree:

Gordon Ramsay:
As mentioned before, I find his success overwhelming. He went from a nobody to a footballer, then from a footballer to one of the world's most famous and loved chefs. There's something about his stubborn, kick-ass personality that makes him all the more lovable. His reality TV shows actually have a purpose, unlike rubbish such as Big Brother. You need TALENT to win his shows. When he's not screaming at morons in his kitchen, he's a lovely person. To sum up, he's talented, successful, kind and doesn't take shit from idiots. What more can you ask for?

Tom Hanks:
I'm going to struggle to keep this at a reasonable length. For those who don't know, Tom Hanks is my favourite actor. I have nearly all of the films he's ever made on DVD, his autograph on my wall at home and his biography. I adore this man. Similar to Ramsay, his talent just radiates from him. I don't care whether you like him or his films, he is one hell of a good actor. He makes it look so effortless; he is an acting machine. Like an unstoppable force of entertainment. Let's face it, he voiced Woody in Toy Story. Need I say more?

Kate Winslet:
I would certainly marry this woman if she was nearer my age. She's like the female Tom Hanks in my opinion. Her acting is incredible, and she seems to just improve with time. Her latest film, Revolutionary Road, was mind blowing. She's (apparently) a really friendly and kind person, and I can kind of tell that from interviews with her etc. She's also married to a pretty awesome director (Sam Mendes, who directed films like The Road to Perdition and American Beauty). The perfect movie-making couple. Wonderful.

Derren Brown:
Now this one is very interesting. People seem to think they've "figured" Derren Brown out. Now, since I last checked, Derren Brown keeps many of his secrets to himself. Furthermore, many people I've discussed his feats with have never met him... but they still know that everything was a set up. I think not. This man has a vast amount of experience in magic, illusion, misdirection, psychology and showmanship. He doesn't "set things up", he pulls your pants down and lets your genitals fly free - by that I mean he makes a complete mockery of people who are willing to believe it's all a scam. If sceptics would take the time to read into his life and what he does, they'd realise he DOESN'T claim to have magical powers or psychic ability. He is just an extremely skilled illusionist. Yes, the illusions are fake but the psychology and effect is, indeed, very real. As they say "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." So shame on all of us, I guess...

Jonathan Rhys Meyers:
The Tudors. August Rush. Bend It Like Beckham. The Children of Huang Shi. Alexander. Only some of his incredible TV/Film highlights. This man is very underrated. One day, I promise you, he'll be huge. He had no prior experience of acting when he was spotted in a pub and asked to audition for a film in Ireland. Unfortunately, he didn't get the part, but was encouraged to pursue a career in acting. Now he's in one of the UK's most watched series (The Tudors) and does a bloody good job of playing King Henry VIII. If I could marry a man, it would most certainly be this guy (Tom Hanks is a little old for my liking, I'm afraid...) Just wait, Jonathan Rhys Meyers will be a BIG name in cinema in the next 10 years.

***

So there you have it for now.
Feel free to comment, agree, disagree, tell me your celebrity heroes.
It'll make this post very rewarding for me :)

Later!
Mr. Eddy.

*I'd prefer it if you'd not type something like "I <3 ROBERT PATTERSON BECAUSE LYK HE'S SOOO HAWT AND I'D TTLY DOOO HIM MANZZ". I mean heroes for their talent, not due to looks and suchlike.

**I thought it was spelt "adue" or even "adieu". Upon researching the subject, I found that ado is actually the correct way to spell that word. Ado means "delay/bustle". You learn something new everyday, huh?

Trust me, I'm a Doctor (or will be...)

2010-01-23T19:13:00.001-08:00

After a heart to heart with some very close friends today, I'm starting to think coming to University was a very good choice for me. I've explained (okay, well ranted) my thoughts to them, and in the process my head has been cleared. I'm pretty sure I have a direction for my life at the moment, and although I dream of doing other, less realistic things with my life (don't we all?), I can't say I'd be unhappy to end up where I'm planning at the moment.

Before you die of suspense... here's my plan:
1) Get my Psychology Degree at a 2:1 or 1st class level.
2) Get some work experience in the Clinical Psychology field for 1 or 2 years.
3) Go to another University to get my Doctorate in Clinical Psychology.
4) Find a job in the Clinical Psychology field as Dr. Samuel James Eddy.

I think I could get used to that.
Depending on my financial status, I may also move to America to work. It's well known that Americans demand Psychologists much more than other places in the world[1] so I'd be paid a lot more for the work there.

Anyways.
I have a clear head, a happy soul and a future - finally.
SPoK

[1] Americans, as you probably know, tend to over exaggerate, and think they're suffering from Chronic Depression just because the post didn't arrive that morning. Therefore, I'm certain they need many more Psychologists for therapy and stuff. On less stereotypical grounds, the country is MUCH bigger, and so the amount of people requiring mental help will be higher. Excellent.

Saepe intereunt aliis meditantes necem.

2010-01-21T19:04:00.000-08:00

An ancient quote by Phaedrus, a Greek living in the ancient civilisation of Thrace. What does it mean?

Those who plot the destruction of others often fall themselves.

I'm very worried a bunch of friends are in this predicament at the moment. Without spewing a bunch of boring life stories, I'll simply just confirm that revenge in this case, would seem okay. My friend who is angry has every right to be, and the situation she faces is pretty weird. Not only has she been dropped in the deep end, but so have some people quite close to her.
Referring to my quote though, I'm feeling like the method of revenge that is planned can only lead to more misfortune and, ultimately, the destruction of the "revenger and revengee*". I'm hoping neither parties are subject to this.

Sam.

*Supposedly, revenger is a word but revengee isn't. In my humble opinion, it should definitely be included in the dictionary, as many people are "revengeed" every day. Yes, I also made that word up, so sue me.

A picture paints a thousand words.

2010-01-17T17:56:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd just start the post with a piece of art that has always fascinated me. It was painted by Salvador Dali, for anyone who is interested in delving further into his art.
I will hasten to add that the painting does serve a purpose, other than simply pretty decoration. In many ways, the piece of art is how I feel my mind is at the moment. In the painting, there are very obvious images. For example, there is no denying the main element of the picture of the piece is time, or clocks. However, they're not in a traditional form. I doubt many people have seen a melted clock, and if you have, I'm curious to know where.
I have main ideas and goals in my head. Similarly, they are very distorted and not forming as clearly as my goals have in the past. I know they're there, but for some reason I don't know what they are. It's surreal, just like Dali's work. I'd like to show you another image to highlight another prominent thought in my head at the moment:

At the moment, I feel like I'm hiding a very important aspect of my personality. I know I've made a bad move in not disclosing it like I should have. Everyone at home knows, but I've neglected my responsibility to tell many people at my new home. There is one person in particular I want to talk to about this so badly, but I'm not sure of their views. I can guarantee with every penny I own, that this person would never guess in a million years I'm talking about them. They WILL read this post.
I'm sure you've got a vast number of strange ideas in your head now. But I ask you to take one further look at the image above. What do you imagine is behind that bright white circle? I'm assuming most people will think of a male face, possibly quite well groomed? What if it is a female? It may not even be a human face underneath; a horses head maybe? It may not even be a face, or living! We all have an innate "curse" of assuming things we know nothing about.
Now imagine I am the figure in the image. From the above, you will no doubt have some strange ideas of what I'm trying to hint. I beg you, don't fall prey to the curse. What's behind the white circle for me, is most likely not what you assume.

Sam.

P.S - I'd like to reassure you I haven't murdered someone or anything ridiculous like that, so don't worry!

SpokDance (I'm totally normal)

2010-01-15T07:31:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone, and welcome to 2010.

I decided we wouldn't faff around with words and rubbish with this post. Rather, let's dance. Let's dance and celebrate the wonders of the new year.

There is too much depression in the world. I say you all laugh at me, at my expense, and if you like what you see, maybe you can learn the SpokDance.

Enjoy,
SPoK

Only for them.

2010-01-06T17:06:00.000-08:00

I was recently scouring through my old computer, looking for files that might be of use. In particular, I was looking for photographs from a few years ago that I want on my laptop. Whilst looking through my files, I came across a Word document with this poem in. I must have written it when I was about 15, but it really made me think. Thought it'd make a nice post. Let me know what you think.

I care not for myself, but for them.
My despair masked by my smile.
I grit my teeth and carry on.

The weight is increased and my arms shake.
My mind is clouded and my vision destroyed.
Like the souls of the dead, I walk on.
Like the man with no home, I walk on.

I lost my purpose, like my mind.
Beyond retrieval, I'm derailed;
my tears as companions, my being impaled.
I wish I could return to the wonderful past.
Where my ignorance was grand and my future was bright.
It all crumbled like a landslide on my body.
Murdering by bliss.

I care not for myself, but for them.
I wish them happiness and joy,
Whilst I hide my own fears and hate.
Like the shadows, I disappear for a while.
Like a cold winter's night, my body freezes;
He's gone and I'm alone.

Had I noticed before, would I still be here?
Three years with no signals.
I'm blinded and weak - naturally.
My one reason to plough through sabotaged in front of me.
The pieces like souvenirs of my hate.
I'm happy inside, I think.

Should they remain happy, my fears will still reside with me.
People think I'm alive.
I am.

Sorry if you fell asleep during that, just thought it'd provoke thought for those of you who like that kind of thing.

Au Revior, 2009.

2009-12-29T17:43:00.000-08:00

I will warn you in advance this post is pretty "ranty" and possibly a bit depressing to read. It's more of a way for me to reflect on how bad my year has been rather than telling a story to people who 'care'. It genuinely presents how I'm feeling right now, and may appear messy and disorganised. If you really want to read, then feel free. If not, I won't hurt you... I promise ;)

I kind of promised myself I wouldn't post anything depressing on here, but since I want to wish 2009 away, the time calls (according to a certain Alex Waldron, this blog is shit anyway... haha). I can't say I'm sad to see 2009 off. It's been a pretty tragic year for me, in many ways.

The lives of many young and wonderful people have been stolen this year. Not just of many celebrities (1 of them died yesterday as well, RIP James Sullivan), but also of one of my closest friends. I can only use this to help myself grow stronger in preparation for 2010. I would, obviously, much rather have him with me in 2010, for he would help me be much stronger than his death has. He's escaped quite a cruel world, and in some ways, I feel he's the lucky one. My poor dog narrowly escaped death recently, and for that I'm forever grateful to the vets who managed to save him from falling prey to cancer.

2009 saw my parents separate, and my Dad leave home for good. For personal reasons, I don't particularly want to share the experience over the internet, but just know I love my parents both more than anything, and Dad still keeps in very regular contact with my family.

University has been a major part of life this year as well. For some, that might seem like an amazing thing, but I don't really want to carry on lying. As much as I love the people there, and the course I'm doing, I feel it's just not right. I don't feel my future lies with the path I'm taking. I don't feel like I'm following my dreams, because of the pressure I have to make something of myself. I'm pretty torn, and it's made settling in at University quite tough. Sometimes I wish I could just get a job and live with my family, but I'll just become a bum.

Money-wise, I have been very poor this year, and struggled to make ends meet. Thanks to Uni, I've had to borrow money not just from Student Finance, but from my own family to pay my rent. Another reason University is causing me more trouble than I think is worth. I lost my job exactly 1 year ago, and have lost a lot of money thanks to that. I know the recession has hit hard for everybody this year, and seeing my own mother struggle broke my heart. I just wish she could have everything she wanted, but I'm pretty powerless.

I could sit here for another hour writing everything that's upset me this year. I honestly can't be bothered though, and considering I wanted no rants or depressing posts, this is very naughty. To summarise, 2009 has been horrific. I may seem happy, goal-oriented and carefree, but inside I'm a mess. A real mess. I'm hoping that 2010 will help me discover what I really should be doing, and see my family get the happiness they deserve: in particular my Mom, Dad and Nan.

2010 is my last chance to put everything right.
Fingers crossed I can work things out.

Thanks for reading if you had the courage!
SPoK

EDIT: 30th December, 2.09am.
I just want to add a small tribute to Dom here. The few sentences above doesn't represent the pain in my heart from losing him. There will forever be a part of me missing; a part of my young adulthood lost somewhere. He should be at University now, making everyone proud. He should have loads of new friends and a fresh start at life. Instead, we're left here with only the memory of how happy he was. I have no idea what is in store for us once we have passed away, but I hope that he's got exactly what he wanted - a way to escape the cruelty of life and to find happiness elsewhere. It's the least he deserves. Dom, I only wish you could see the pain we feel and the ocean of tears that's been created from your actions. I hope, with all my heart, it was worth it. Take care, and I promise I will never forget what you've done for me. It's a lot more than I reckon even you would have guessed.

I can only remember the times you were happy.
A beer in hand, a smile on your face and the world as your oyster.
I'm sorry I couldn't stop your pain, but now my punishment is my eternity of sorrow.

I should have been there.
ALOT of love from Sam.
xxxxxx

WhoHub

2009-12-22T08:28:00.000-08:00

I was recently sent an email from anonymously about a website called "WhoHub". I have absolutely no idea how they got my address and sent me the e-mail, but "a friend" apparently recommended that I join the site.
So, off I went to investigate, half expecting to be taken to a website full of viruses and torture. To my surprise, the website was awesome. It's meant as a tool to connect creative artists from all kinds of fields. It works by using an interview-style profile. Essentially, you choose the areas you're proficient in, such as writing, and then you're asked many questions about that field. Eventually, all the questions and your answers are bunged on a profile and voila!
It might sound boring, and like those fucking annoying MySpace and Facebook quizzes, but this website does it properly. You can search for other people that have experience in your chosen fields, and I found that quite inspiring to be honest.

So if you're the creative type, and this sounds interesting, get your candy-ass over to whohub.com

And if you love me enough to learn more about me, then visit my profile by clicking here!

Yours WhoHub-ly
SPoK

Bring me the Horizon - Suicide Season Cut Up.

2009-12-19T08:18:00.001-08:00

Here's my 'review':
This album, quite simply, is a work of Electronic art. "Electronic?!" I hear you cry. Yes, Bring me the Horizon have abandoned their rather frightening screams and heavy guitar riffs to produce a non-stop, energy enthused slice of sex. Admittedly, the album is a re-release of their last album, "Suicide Season", hence the name.
I give credit to the BMTH boys quite wrongly though; the remixes are done by a number of incredibly talented upcoming Dance artists. From track one, I was stunned by the awesome beats and crazy electro melodies. Right through to the end, I promise you'll find it difficult NOT to get up and shake your ass, or at least bop that lil' head of yours.
Tracks such as "Chelsea Smile (remixed by KC Blitz)" and "The Sadness Will Never End (remixed by Skillrex)" are personal highlights for me. If it wasn't for some of the raw screams and lyrics, these songs would definately be hitting the clubs, I have no doubt about it. Being a metal fan as well, this album for me is just orgasmic. I'm actually going to have to clean my pants if I listen to this album again. The lyrics are fantastic, and also eerily passionate, if not explicit! For example, in "Sleep With One Eye Open", the lyric 'best friends means forever, cunt!" always give me wee goose-pimples. Mixed with the groovy Electro talent of M. Shawn Crahan, track 11 is a particular contender for "Most Powerful Spunky Mess In Ya Pants of the Year Award 09".
So although I have no doubt the next BMTH album will see the Rotherham boys return to their terrifying metal roots, I urge any fan of Electro, Dance, Dub or House music to check this little beauty of a dance album. I can imagine fans of Enter Shikari and the like will especially bum this album. The all familiar mix of dance and metal is kicked up 100% in this unmissable, practically unheard of musical masterpiece.

Let me know if you agree!

SPoK

Shattered - sneak peek part II

2009-12-18T07:58:00.000-08:00

Hello wonderful readers.
I've decided to post my next chapter just in time for Christmas.
This is the present you can open before Christmas, because I'm that lovely.

Don't expect any more presents though, because quite frankly, there are none!

Anyway, before I post the chapter, I wish you all the Merriest of Christmases.
I wish you the happiest of New Year's.
I wish you seasons greetings and good tidings.
I wish you get all the presents and gifts you requested.
I wish you all the seasonal love and togetherness.

And I wish you'd get a life and stop reading blogs...

Here's the chapter, numbnuts.
Yours wonderfully, Mr. Samuel "Spok" Eddy.

Chapter Two
An Unwelcome Feeling.

I wonder if I’m dreaming. I’m half expecting to wake up in Drama again, mindlessly gazing at some amateur performance that might cut the grade if a toddler had scripted it. I’m not though, am I? Instead, I’m very much wide awake; listening not just to the cacophony of noise in my head, but my Mom’s occasional sniffling. I’m feeling disturbed. I keep having images of Debbie happily driving down the motorway, Razorlight exploding from her CD player. She’s smiling, singing along and unaware of her fate. Then from out of nowhere, a huge lorry just hurtles straight into her. She knows nothing.
We finally arrive at the hospital. The school is only a maximum of ten minutes away, but today it felt eternal. My Mom rapidly grabs her back and slams the door. She’d murder me if I ever did that! I’ll chase her up on it later; she’s not escaping her hypocritical behaviours.
I’m not crying anymore, luckily. I’d hate for everyone to look at me and think I was a fanny. I’m strong normally, but surely I have an excuse? Still, it’s no excuse to be caught off-guard by friends; I’d never live it down if they saw me cry. Great friends I have, right? I feel Mom clasp my hand again. This time, her fingers are cold, steely, almost like all the blood had been drained from them. I’m surprised when she slams her bag down on the counter, and talks to the receptionist in an aggressive manner.
“We’re here to see Deborah Reeves?” she asks. It’s such an innocent question, but her tone is menacing.
“Hello Madam,” begins the receptionist, “are you a close family member of Mrs. Reeves?” Uh oh, not a good time to hinder Mom’s progress, I can assure you.
“No. We are not,” retorts Mom, “I am her best friend of 32 years, I’ll have you know. I demand that I see her! Right now!” I’ll be honest with you; I’d be fucking terrified if I was that receptionist now. She’s about two wrong words away from having her neck snapped. The receptionist looks incredibly uncomfortable, before looking down at me. Before she opens her mouth, my Mom reads her mind and replies:
“My son, Theo. He’s also a close friend of Debbie and her son.” The receptionist fidgets. I can tell she has something to say, but she doesn’t want to.
“I’m afraid, Mrs...”
“Miller”
“Mrs. Miller, that I can only allow you to visit the patient. Your son must wait here in the reception for your return.” Like a small child wanting attention, I tug at Mom’s sleeve. When she looks at me, I pull a distraught face. Being honest, I don’t have to try. I’m genuinely upset; I’m not sitting in a reception with diseased cunts whilst Clay sits with his Mom feeling like his world has just crumbled before his eyes. There’s just no way on Earth. I’m desperate.
“Theo will be accompanying me; it’s not wise to leave him here alone.”
“But Mrs. Miller...”
“There will be no further discussion,” interrupts Mom. I’m extremely impressed; my Mom can be a bitch when she needs to!
“I simply do not have the time to waste arguing with a receptionist. Which room is she in?” I realise how snobby Mom must sound. The receptionist looks exhausted; I can barely blame her. I’d go mental if I had to deal with frustrated customers like her all day. The receptionist sighs.
“She is on the ground floor, emergency room 4B,” she reveals, “You just need to take the double doors behind me and walk straight to the end. Have a good day Madam.” She is defeated. My Mom’s extreme willpower broke her down and mindfucked her. I can see from her face that she’s glad we’re ‘dealt’ with. She won’t be messing with Mrs. Sian Miller anytime soon, that’s for sure.
Before I know it, Mom seizes my hand and hauls me towards emergency room 4B. It’s almost like I’m in a movie; everything is slow motion. As I pass emergency rooms 1A-D, I glance inside. I don’t even know why, but I’m drawn to the small panes of glass allowing me a peek. There are too many doctors and nurses and surgeons and consultants dashing around the corridors, barely in the rooms enough time to do much of use. Emergency room 2A, 2B, 2C, 2D, 3A... I’m feeling more unsettled as I count up towards 4B. Maybe I should have waited in the reception with the defeated lady?
We arrive at 4B. Mom lets go of my hands so she can bury her head in her own. I’m scared. I’m seriously scared. Mom opens the door and enters; I follow closely behind. I can see Debbie, and she looks terrible. I burst into tears. So many tubes, drips, monitors... I wonder if she’s even really alive – or just relying on the computers and tubes that invade her body. What’s most disturbing is that I can’t even see her face. It is entirely bandaged, and drenched in blood. It’s like a scene from a horror film, and I’m living it.
Through my heavily watery eyes, I can see Clay sitting on a chair. His face is vacant. He is simply staring at the blood-drenched bandages of his poor mother’s face, with no expression or emotion. He looks empty. Unsure of what I should do, I drag a spare chair next to him and take a seat. I’m not sure where to look. Do I look at Debbie and face having nightmares for the rest of my life, or try to break Clay’s traumatic gaze? As I think, I notice Mom leaving the room again. The sound she makes pierces my soul. Her cry is from the heart: full of despair and desolation. The sight of a once beautiful woman in this state has broken my Mom into pieces.
Clay remains blank. I can see through his eyes that his whole world has just ended; he has been ripped apart inside and destroyed. I feel more tears escape, and just wish I could end this awful nightmare. Suddenly, he places his hand on my leg. How am I meant to react? Like a dummy, I just stare at his hand. Almost like it has a mind of its own, my hand makes its way to unite with Clay’s. I feel so comfortable. I feel my heart beating quicker, and my hands, independent of my mind, squeeze tighter around his. My other hand now moves over to his leg, and rests itself upon it. I feel slightly anxious invading his personal space. We’re close friends though, it’s fine.
For the first time, Clay moves. When his eyes meet mine, I’m shaken out of my mindless gaze. I’m suddenly aware of our proximity, but my hands won’t move. It’s almost like the damage is done; if I move my hands, I’ll just look like I’m uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn’t want that? I feel weirdly upset as he withdraws his hand from my leg. I have no idea what to do. Do I leave mine there? Like a clueless, socially deprived loser, I decide to withdraw my hand also. For the first time in my life, I actually want to hug him. I want to feel him close to me; I want to reassure him and make everything better. I can’t.
I’m just feeling odd now. I’ve never felt this way before, and as I look at his face, I realise how amazing he is. If this had happened to me, I’d fucking break down. Here he is though, calm and collected. He isn’t crying, moaning, or whining for attention. He is just keeping to himself. I would do anything to be more like him. He makes me notice my own flaws; he is perfect, regardless of what I like people to think.
I’m slightly uncomfortable at my revelation, and decide to break the social silence.
“I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what to say.” Clay doesn’t even bat an eyelid. There is only the beeping of the life-support machine to spare us from total silence. I wonder if he’s even paying attention. I’m not sure I would if I was him.
“Thanks,” he finally replies, “I don’t expect you to say much Theo. I just need you here, to know that you’re with me. I need to know that you care enough to stay. I just...” Before he can finish, he buries his head in his hands and cries. I’m left in an uncomfortable position again, and find myself reaching out to hug him. At least I get what I wanted – a hug from the most amazing guy I know. My admiration for him is so high at the moment. I never even realised I was capable of such levels of respect for anybody. He’s my hero.
I can feel his tears on my shoulder, the wetness of them drenching my jacket. He squeezes tight as he lets out more sobs, and I’m honestly shocked. Not shocked because of Clay, but because of my physical reaction to our intimacy. Like a small girl, I can feel myself blushing. I’m in a completely foreign situation at the moment. I’m hugging my best friend who is distraught by the looming death of his mother, whilst also feeling arousal at the closeness of our hug? Without thinking about it, I push him away from me. His eyes widen; he looks angry.
“What the fuck man? I’m only asking for your fucking support you selfish twat!” he spits furiously. I’m so embarrassed I could crawl away and die. This is the weirdest day; my mind is exploding with so many emotions.
“Clay, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that, I really don’t,” I lie. “I’m just as crushed by this as you...”
“Crushed, Theo? You tell me you’re fucking crushed when your Mom is lying on a hospital bed dying in front of you. You tell me you’re fucking crushed when your best friend can’t even touch his best friend because he’s too homophobic and self-centred to put stupid shit aside to support him. Just fuck off Theo. Fuck off!” I’m completely speechless. He’s misinterpreted the situation entirely! I feel like I’ve just been humiliated in front of the whole world, even though it’s just us. Conquered and disgraced, I leave emergency room 4B. It’s definitely for the best. If I stay in there, he’ll just ignore me and get even more pissy than he already has. I’m not angry at him, I’m angry at myself. Why the hell did I push him away? Why did I feel so warm and excited just because we were hugging? For once, I feel stupid. I can’t answer my own questions.
I notice that Mom isn’t actually outside the room anymore. Where on Earth has she gone? I’m not in the mood to go exploring the hospital. This is all too much for me. I decide I’m going to wait in the reception, along with the defeated receptionist. I dawdle past the Emergency Rooms I spied on before. If I was a dog, my tail would be hugging my stomach; I’m feeling low, crushed and above all, embarrassed. I’m a fucking idiot. As I walk back through the double doors, I notice Mom is actually already in the reception. She looks like a small child who’s been crying for hours. Her face is red, puffy and shiny from the tears which have drenched her skin. I take the empty seat next to her.
“I want to go home, Mom.” I murmur. She is totally silent. After a brief pause, she stands up and rummages through her bag. I can hear her swearing as she delves deeper inside, the bag nearly consuming her head. She swears a few more times before pulling out her car keys. Without a word, she points to the door. I’m assuming she also wants to go. I stand up and head towards the exit, my Mom following me closely behind. I can tell tonight won’t be fun at all. You see, when my Mom gets upset, she goes through a few stages. There’s the emotional crying stage, the ‘I want to be alone’ stage, the totally silent stage (which she is at now), then the “fuck off or die” angry stage. When she gets home, she’s going to be a real bitch all night. Fun.
When we reach the car, I clamber inside. I have no idea what to say. “What a lovely day” doesn’t quite fit. “What a shit day” is asking for trouble as well. I decide to join my Mom in total silence. As the engine starts, I feel my eyes becoming heaver; crying knackers me out so much. I begin to drift off, and the noise of the car moving becomes a soft hum in the distance.

Shattered - sneak preview.

2009-12-10T16:41:00.001-08:00

Wassup homies.
Incase you didn't know, I am writing a book at the moment!
I'd like to share the first chapter with you, so you can have a taster of the style.

If you have any (useful) thoughts, then they're massively appreciated.
If you have no thoughts, then enjoy anyway.
If you don't enjoy, then kindly.. erm, fuck off! (Or leave constructive criticism LOLOLOLOL... no.)

Thanks again.

Chapter One
College
I hate alarms. Seriously, I sometimes wish I could transform my alarm clock into a human, just so I can kick the shit out of it! The annoying “beep beep” that fires up so much despair deep within me, I want to cry. I wake up to the same morning routine, which is enough to encourage the calmest people to become homicidal maniacs. Another day in the life of Theodore Miller.
I can always take solace in the fact I am a wonderful, popular and loved person. Many people ponder over their meaning on this Earth. I don’t. I know I’m here to connect everyone, to make friends with anyone and everyone, and as a means to bond other people. You want to meet someone new? You come to me. You want to find someone new to date? You come to good ol’ Theo. There isn’t anyone I’ve let down. I’ve been known to throw the wildest parties imaginable; people from miles away have spent £50 on train tickets just to get to them. You’ll have to come to one to see what I mean.
I sluggishly pull my jeans up, and hurriedly choose a t-shirt that matches. I’m the kind of guy that’s always on time, but leaves everything as late as possible. If I need to be at college for 9am, then I’ll wake up at 8.20. It takes 10 minutes to get ready, 5 minutes to walk to the bus stop and then 25 minutes to get to my form room. Trust me, I’ve timed it perfectly. I run over to the mirror, and look at my messy black hair. For hair that’s so short, I’m surprised it can even look this unkempt. It looks like I’ve shaved my head, but then just forgot to shave it again when grew too long. That doesn’t matter though, I’m very handsome and there’s not a blemish in sight. You might think I’m a bit of an arsehole, but that’s really not the case. I’m just blunt, really. If I know something’s true, then I’ll tell you it’s true. I’ve got high self esteem, but that’s a good thing. I’d rather appear arrogant but feel good about myself. I love the fact that I don’t care; so many people are shattered by their own perception of themselves. I am not one of them, you may have gathered.
I don’t eat breakfast. I really don’t see the point. I’ve been told that breakfast is the “most important meal of the day”, but that’s just not true for me. I can function just fine without it. Plus, it means I get a little extra time in bed; who wants to wake up early just to eat some toast or a bowl of shitty cereal? I hear that it kick-starts your brain – perfect for school! Except for the fact that I don’t do much at school, and I choose not to listen or join in. I do enjoy drawing, and boring lessons are such a great time for me to spew my thoughts onto paper in the form of doodles. Art, for me, is a way to express the feelings inside me; one’s that not many people actually see. People must be mad if they think there’s not an ounce of sensitivity inside of me. I believe that we’re all soft inside, it’s just the way that we choose to portray our inner feelings that changes between us.
Great, looks like Clay is early again. Clay and I go a long way back; we’ve been friends from day one. We’re best friends, but not many people can believe it. We’re pretty much the opposite! I’m handsome, popular and rude, whereas Clay is, well... not that easy on the eyes, shall we say? He’s not really that popular, besides the friends that I introduce him to, and he’s too polite! It drives me insane, the constant “pleases” and “thank yous”. I just wish he’d man up a little bit, it gets on my nerves. The only thing we have in common is our high level of intelligence. We’re genii! To be honest though, it’s our differences that make us so close. He’s a fantastic friend and I wouldn’t swap him for anyone.
The reason I know he’s early is that he’s just texted me: “Hello Theo, I am waiting outside for you now.” Who types out full letters in a text? The amount of times I’ve told him...
I rush outside to meet him. He’ll be arsey with me if I keep him waiting in the cruel winter frost for too long. Sure enough, there he is, standing in a massive padded coat, a scarf, gloves, a beanie and wellies. Even though he looks overdressed, he’s very charming. Of course, I don’t mean in “that way”, but his clothes are very fashionable, and I can expect today the girls might fall for his “cute, nerdy, looks-like-his-Mom-dressed-him” look. It wouldn’t surprise me if it WAS his Mom who forced him to wear every kind of insulating garment available. She’s a bit of a nutcase, but we all love her!
“Hey Theo, how’re you?” he says, looking almost too hot in his Eskimo outfit.
“I’m good thanks,” I reply, “not too excited about walking to college in the freezing cold though, to be honest.”
“Are you mad? It’s absolutely boiling!”
“Yeah, that’s only because your Mom chose your clothes for you this morning!”
“Fuck you Theo, you know I choose my own clothes.” He barked back. For the rest of the journey, we remain silent. I love how when you see other people, you make inaccurate judgements about their personality just by their level of conversation. Surely, if two people speak constantly, they must be best friends? Wrong. The best of friends can remain comfortable in silence. You don’t feel obligated to talk, you don’t feel the dreaded ‘awkward silence’, and you can get lost in your own thoughts without desperately trying to make conversation. Bad conversation.
When we arrive at school, Clay splits off to go to his first class. Unlucky for him, he has Chemistry first thing on a Monday morning. On my way to Biology, I bump into Tom. Tom has been known as “my bitch”, purely because he’s such an arse-licker. He quite obviously looks up to me, and although I understand why he sees me as a role model, he is a little bit creepy. I’ve heard Clay just refer to him as “Creep” before, so that’s what I’ll call him from now on. Not to his face of course, that’d just be mean.
“Theo! I’m so happy to see you. Shall we walk to Biology together?” he says. He has a face I want to smack; the fact he’s bright, chirpy and enthusiastic on a Monday morning definitely enhances the feeling.
“Yes, we shall.” I reply sarcastically. He still speaks like a ponce from the medieval ages. I should have replied with a “Mein friend. Accompany me through this vast courtyard into the foyer so we can at once begin the studies into the human vessel”. I’m too tired for that at the moment.
“Excellent. I had such a good weekend. Did you have a good weekend?”
Shut up! “Yes Tom, I had a fun weekend.”
“I’m pleased to hear this. I got really drunk on the weekend. I was sick. It was fun.” I begin to wonder whether he’s capable of only saying one sentence at a time. It’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself most of the time. One thing I know is that he certainly was not drunk over the weekend. Anything to impress his God, I suppose.
“You were sick? No kidding? You must have had loads to drink.” I reply, sounding so unimpressed that I wonder if he’ll ever realise that I don’t give a shit. I decide I’ll just tune out a for a little bit. He’ll be able to talk forever before he realises I’m not listening. Let’s talk about Clay.
You may be wondering why we call him that. Well for starters, nobody knows his real name, and I’m not joking. Of course, his family know his name, but they’ll never tell anyone. If they did, I’m pretty sure Clay would kill them. He’s told us he doesn’t want us to know his real name because it’s “too embarrassing”. I’ve never managed to milk the information from him. Even when he’s been bordering paralytic, he’s stood firm. One day, he will tell me. I’m his best friend for fuck’s sake, and he can’t even trust me not to laugh? I know his last name is Reeves, but that’s not enough! I’m certain my parents know his real name as well, but they’re just playing along to piss me off. We were born on the same ward, so they must have known.
I think he told me he chose Clay randomly. Pretty cool name if you ask me, I’d prefer it to Theo or Ted. Theodore’s a disgusting name anyway, makes me feel like an ancient prophet or something. I swear my parents were drunk when they chose it. I mean Theodore? Come on!
As well as his real name, he keeps his family life secret. I know hardly anything about his house, his family, his room – everything! All I know is that his Mom’s a bit of a nut job, but she’s very nice. He was bullied quite horrifically when he was younger, and since I helped him become popular, he’s become a reputation freak. He’ll do anything to keep his social status as high as popular. He knows that he’d be nowhere without me, but he tries to come across as a different person to other people. He seems strong, confident and outgoing, when he’s the opposite. I hate people who “front”. There’s no point to being fake at all. I let him get on with it though; it’s his choice at the end of the day.
“I got home, and then I just vomited everywhere. I mean everywhere. It was gross! Mom cleaned it up for me, and I just passed out. It was so much fun!” Damn, why couldn’t I have just stayed tuned out?
“Sounds like quite a night then Tom! On a Sunday as well, you are a rebel, aren’t ya?” Oh good, here comes Zombo, someone who can finally rescue me from this loser.
“Theo, Tom, how you doing lads?” he says, almost as unemotional as me. He’s called Zombo purely because of his blank, expressionless face. Almost like a Zombie, but no way near as cool. He’s a fucking nutcase at parties though; definitely someone to invite if you’re looking for a kick-ass time. I grunt rather than speaking. He’ll understand – after all, it is Monday morning.
“You coming to Bio?” he sighs. I can imagine what was left of his soul just died. Died, and slid right from his arse and there it shall remain. He’s such a waster, but I love him. I nod in response, and make my way to the class. I can’t help but notice the smell of weed that seems to radiate from his entire body. No doubt he’s smoked a lot of it during the past few years; enough for it to have become his natural body odour. I wonder if he’ll even be alive in ten years. Zombo the Zombie. Now that’d be cool!

****

With only five minutes to go, I feel like Christmas is approaching. I honestly don’t care that DNA is made from “nitrogen-containing bases”, or that it takes the shape of a double helix, or that the bases Adenine and Thymine complement each other, as do Guanine and Cytosine. I just want to go home! I’m never going to get a job doing anything Biological; my passion lies in art and acting. I’ve always done well at Drama; I don’t try very hard, but I can just act. I can’t explain it. I just do it. I escape away somewhere else when I draw or act, and it allows me to explore all the parts of my mind that require exploring. I’ve often been in the middle of drawing something, and suddenly realised something. Almost like an epiphany; I find myself. Or at least, I discover more about myself. It’s a gift, I’m sure of it. Good job I have Drama next, I fancy a bit of creative time.
Finally, the teacher decides it’s time to give up talking about the ‘importance’ of genetics and dismisses us. I half-heartedly wave goodbye to Zombo the Stoner and head out of the science building. Drama here I come!
“Theo!” somebody shouts from behind me. To my delight, it’s Clay. He’s looking very happy, and very fresh. He smiles at me.
“Hi Clay, how was Chemistry?” I reply, after I break out of my miniature daydream. He shrugs.
“Okay I suppose. How about you come over mine later tonight? I’m too tired to go out getting pissed again”
“Erm, yeah that should be fine.” The truth is, I’d love nothing more than to just go there with him tonight. I’m just trying not to sound too enthusiastic, or he’ll think I’ve skipped Biology to smoke dope with Zombo. Not that I’ve ever done that before, of course.
“Cool stuff, I’ll see you at lunch I guess. I’ve got Maths now, so I’ll have to shoot. Speak soon mate.” He dashes off before I even get a chance to acknowledge he spoke. I’m not feeling right anyway. I don’t mean that I’m ill. There’s just something a little off today, I just can’t put my finger on it. Drama will cheer me up.
As I enter the drama studio, Ms. Koontz stares at me viciously. You’d have thought I’d just killed her family, raped them in front of her, and then burnt their sorry asses. All because I’m 3 minutes late... Damn you Clay!
“Mr. Miller,” she begins, with menace in her voice, “being’s you’ve decided time is not an issue when attending lessons, how about we begin with you?” What? What on Earth is she on about now? I’m starting to think whether her last name could be altered from Koontz to... well, you get the picture.
“Begin with what, Ms. Koontz?” I ask, sounding as angelic as I can possibly manage. I pray it works.
“Your five minute role-play that you had to prepare for this lesson, Theo. We’ll begin with yours.”
Oh fuck! My heart misses a beat and my throat dries up instantly. I can hear the blood exploding around my body so quickly I’m expecting my vessels just to blast open any second now. Think of an excuse, anything!
“Well, Ms. Koontz,” I begin. I cough for ‘dramatic effect’ – or rather to gain a crucial second of excuse plotting time. Come on Theo, think! “I’ve prepared my role-play, but completely forgotten to bring an important prop with me. It’s in my locker, if you want me to fetch it?” She’ll never fall for that, surely? Is Ms. Koontz really that stupid?
“Typical, Theo. For a student who is so competent at Drama, you have an incredible knack for not doing the work. You will not be getting the prop from your locker. Sit down!” I take a seat. I’m not embarrassed, just pissed off. She obviously isn’t stupid then. I should know that by now anyway, the amount of times I’ve had to think of a new excuse on the spot. One day, I’m going to have a genuine excuse, and she won’t believe it. The boy who cried wolf.
As I sit through everyone’s mediocre role-plays (which I’d definitely have disgraced, thanks to my amazing drama talent), I decide just to sit and daydream. Whilst I do, Grace catches my attention from opposite me. I wonder how long I was dreaming for. Grace is my rather beautiful ex-girlfriend, who decided she’d cheat on me with some fucking loser from the year below. Even though I hate her for leaving me, I can’t deny how much I still like her. I don’t think it’s in “that way” anymore, but she’s still a very good friend to me. To my surprise, she’s waving franticly at me. Although I really just want to sit and think, I’m very curious about her odd behaviour. I know that waving crazily isn’t typically deemed as odd, but for Grace, I believe it is. Imagine someone who’s just dipped all their fingertips into a pan of boiling water. That’s the insane image I’m observing at the moment. I acknowledge her waving with a curious face, accompanied by a mimed ‘what?’ She ceases waving like a burnt chef, and points to the door. Still curious, I look over. Oh no. This can’t be good at all. The only time my Mom would ever come into the college is if something horrible has happened. For the second time during this lesson, my heart sinks. I try to swallow, but there’s nothing there that I can.
“Ms. Koontz, my Mom’s at the door. Can I go out for a second?” I ask with a hint of desperation. I can tell she doesn’t believe me, and she makes an extra effort to check the doorway for my Mom.
“Yes, Theo, you’re excused,” she answers, “I hope everything is okay?” I’m praying exactly the same thing.
“Thanks.” I really have nothing more to say. As I walk towards the door, Grace shrugs at me. As she does, she widens her eyes, telling me non-verbally that she has no idea what’s up. I don’t think I want to know either. I open the door.
Mom looks concerned and anxious. I can tell she doesn’t really want to tell me what she’s about to.
“Theo, I have some horrible news,” she sighs “you know Debbie?” Of course I know fucking Debbie, it’s Clay’s Mom. I’m starting to get angry, and with every passing second, confusion is clouding all my thoughts. “Well she’s been in an accident... a really bad one”.
“W... what?” I stutter foolishly. What the hell is going on? The very woman who dressed my best friend this morning is in hospital somewhere? “What’s happened? Where’s Clay?” I blurt out. I feel bad for asking more about Clay than his mother, but I can’t help feel for him as well.
“She was in a car accident on the way to work this morning, a lorry pulled out and took the front of her car off,” she says “and her with it.” I feel my tear glands working overtime at the disgusting image I’ve conjured up in my head. She can’t be dead. She just can’t.
I’m slightly embarrassed when hot tears begin to escape from the pool glazing my eyes. I don’t like Mom to see me cry.
“Is she alive?” I utter, being as optimistic as possible.
“Yes,” she answers to my delight, “and Clay is waiting for you at the hospital now. She has an extremely low chance of pulling through though, Theo. Clay needs your support, and I’m here to drive you there.”
She takes my hand, and begins briskly walking to the exit of the college. What about Ms. Koontz? Drama? Grace? What the fuck is happening? This can’t be real. My knees are protesting; I’m struggling to keep them from denying my weight. It’s like someone just removed my ability to walk. My Mom’s words have crippled my legs.
I can feel the urgency in her grip. The tightness of her unwelcomed clutch on my hand has made my palms sweat like never before. I want her to let go. I’m really not in the mood to have her sympathising and babysitting me. I can get to the car without her holding my fucking hand. I hope Clay’s holding on. He’s not going to take this well at all.
When we reach the car, Mom hurriedly rams her seat belt buckle into the seat and gets the car started. I find myself going into another world, one which hasn’t been shattered by this horrendous news.

Welcome wise people.

2009-12-10T16:25:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone!
I bid you all a very warm welcome to this relatively awesome blog.
This blog is basically a mixture of everything I do!
My friend Lee suggested I use this as a way to keep people informed of progress on my latest book, (working title "Shattered") and hence here we are now!

I promise there will be more than just chapters of a book though.
Maybe you will find humour, gossip, news and my views.
Maybe you won't.

I'm bored already, so let's get on with it, eh?

Yours orgasmically, (is that a word? It really should be!)
Mr. Teddy