Short Story Time

The following is a short story I composed for the sake of completing something. Recently, I have expanded the concept and begun to turn it into a novel:

Left Behinds and Belongings
“Every day, I see this! And every day it gets worse.” A pair of worn, spotty hands shake, palms up, in frustration. “These kids, they…they just leave their garbage on the seat…like it’s somebody else’s job to clean it all up!” He flusters about in his place.
“Calm down already, Mikhail, it is barely eight and you’re already in a huff.” Geni said this as he removed a worn thermos from his pack, which had been tucked beneath him for the duration of the train ride.
“I am calm, I am calm. I just, I cannot take the way children here treat things. It’s always ‘I want this’ or ‘I want that’! Never ‘hello sir’ or ‘hello miss’ or ‘can I take your jacket sir?’.” Mikhail’s hands continued to tremor.
“Well children here are different, Mikhail. They have privileges.”
“Bah! Privileges! You earn privileges; you do work to get privileges. They watch television and eat, and run around like rioters. These things do not make privileges, Ignatova.”
Geni Jurekovich Ignatova was a man in his early fifties, and an easy-going one at that. He had moved to the States from Kasimov, a burg just along the Oka River, when he was twenty-six.
“Again,” Geni made a gesture with his hands for emphasis, “things are different here, okay? They do not have as strict of morals as we did.”

Mikhail again brought his palms up to show the extent of his exasperation,
“Morals? This man speaks of morality? Ha! All Americans do is talk about their morals! Their entitlement.”

Geni met Mikhail Vissarionovich Bezuhov in a diner on the 1100th Block of Western Avenue in the winter of 1983. They were sitting in booths across the aisle from each other. Geni overheard Mikhail talking about a one Mr. Anatoly Ofonasii, whom Geni went to primary school with. As it turned out, Mikhail was from Gus’-Zeheleznyy, a town not more than twenty-five kilometers from Kasimov. From that day forward they had done a great many things together.

“Age has made you bitter; a cynic.” Geni condescended over his spectacles.

“Ha! When you are old, you earn the right to become a cynic. At that stage in your life,” he brings his fingers to his eyes in a pronged, horizontal peace sign, “you have seen enough things to make you understand how horrible it really is to be alive.”

Mikhail, now at the age of sixty-two, was a bit older than Geni and had a certain proclivity for being a curmudgeon in times of nuisance. When he was younger, Mikhail was more of a free spirit. He had been one of those fellows at a bar who insists on becoming a close friend to all present, warmly embracing each patron with every successive sip of ale. The bartenders were welcoming as well. His manner was not that of a lush, but as one who has zest for the life they live.

“Perhaps, but at what age do you earn the right to be a pessimist?” Geni pointed a triumphant index finger at a high-45

“You earn the right,” he paused, “to be a pessimist,” another pause. Geni looked at him with mounting anticipation. “When you grab hold of your life,” Mikhail scrunched his hands into fists, “and pull your head,” he thrust his fists back with great conviction, “out of your ass.”

Mikhail, after finishing this, burst into a wild laughter which lasted about five seconds. Geni had a smirk, but refused to issue such a guffaw as Bezuhov did.

“And now who has the scowl, Geni?” Mikhail gave him a hearty slap on the back.
These were the best moments for Mikhail. Yes, they weren’t necessarily entirely authentic in their make-up, but beggars can’t be choosers. It seemed that he would only return to his once jovial state when insulting someone; when he satiated his morose appetite.
“Come on! You were just telling me how unpleasant I am, and now you yourself are being a grumbler.”
Geni did give a chuckle, but barely a titter, and sighed, “Sure, fine; okay.”
Mikhail’s smile slowly slipped from his face, supplanted with his usual grimace. He dug his hands deep within the pockets of his pea-coat and slumped back against the window of the train car. A few moments of silence passed when Geni spoke up.
“You see? Misery is your business Mikhail. You’ve nothing to say unless it is to belittle another.” He retrieved his pack from beneath the seat and tucked the thermos into it. The train slowed and he got up, slinging the pack across his shoulder as he did so. He picked up the garbage on the seat opposite to he and Mikhail. The train halted and the doors opened in the usual hurried commuter fashion.
Geni turned his head to Mikhail and said, “Poskolku delaete svo krovat, takim obrazom budete spat.”
The doors closed as Geni made his way down the platform to the stairs as Mikhail sat, defeated, and with a look of trouble smeared on his face. The words had stuck, and not just the final ones, either. He began to stare at the passing urban landscape in a contemplative awe. The car rattled on down the track, headed to who knows where.

REVIEW: RocknRolla

RocknRolla (2008)

A Guy Ritchie Film

Ever since marrying Madonna some time in the nineties, Guy Ritchie has let his work become infested with the inane mythos of Cabala and the horrible acting of his then-wife, much like Warren Beatty. Now that he's dropped the alligator skin baggage, he's come back into the fictional world that made him famous: The London Crime World.

Unlike previous gangster entry, 'Revolver', RocknRolla jettisons itself onto the screen with snappy dialogue, pitch-black humor, and a bounty of four letter epithets powerful enough to make the FCC spontaneously combust.

The acting is pretty sparky as well. Each character is believable, even those of Mr. Chris 'Ludacris' Bridges and Jeremy Piven work well within the framework of the plot, and the oft generalized cockney thugs seem fresh. The cinematography is jumpy in a good way, throwing in an occasional fancy camera trick amid all the cuts to add some style and flavor. Soundtrack wise, the namesake of the film is well represented with such bombastic tunes as "Rock & Roll Queen" from The Subways and "I'm a Man" from Black Strobe.

Normally, a complex plot would seem to be a draw for a film, espescially for one with aspirations at box office success, but in this case it works. Guy Ritchie succeeds again with a plot of so many interweaving tales that they become circular and thus any action's implications are never immidiate, building suspense the whole way through. In a nutshell, however, it concerns conflict between Old School gangsters from London and New School gangsters from Eastern Europe.

The one draw of the movie is that it is a little too stylistic and lacks a certain depth. However, if one goes to see a Guy Ritchie movie for intellectual provocation they must be ignorant of the world around them or shot up on novacaine.

Were I to sum up the contents of this flick, I'd quote the opening lines:

"People ask the question... what's a RocknRolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, other the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a RocknRolla, oh, he's different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the f*****g lot."

Top 10 Horror Films

Though the following list is written in no specific order and the films selected are my own personal favorites, each work listed is terrifying in its own right:

1. Invasion of the Body Snatchers

For every chuckle the original 1950s B-Movie incurred with its silly storyline and insinuation of Pod People, the 1970s Donald Sutherland-helmed remake rebuts with great gusto. It should be noted that the tone of this film is far different from the subtly anti-communist original and supplants it with a viral pandemic more fitting of modern times. If the first two hours of the movie don’t frighten you, then the last three minutes most certainly will.

9. Se7en

Though the trailer makes it seem more traditional popcorn fare or nineties-suspense-junk, the movie itself is chilling in its grotesque depictions of each of the victims with the most frightening coming at Sloth. There is a twist ending, but not one that takes precedence over the whole film. What makes this movie so effective is its general grime and unpredictability.

8. Don’t Look Now

Yet another seventies Sutherland entry, but this one veers far into the territory of the surreal and has gained most of its publicity from a far too graphic opening sex scene. Though one should not let the simple beginning of the work distract them from what has to be the single scariest ending in all of cinema.

7. An American Werewolf in London

Fresh off of Animal House, John Landis ventured into horror with a seemingly campy werewolf movie. The thing is, it’s one of the best and scariest ever made. If the still shocking effects can’t pull you in, then the frightening fever dreams of the main character and apparitions of his victims can.

6. Nosferatu

Some would say that a silent film can no longer be scary. However, I beg to differ with this especially eerie piece which flourishes on its lighting, lavish set pieces, and arresting acting on the behalf of Max Shreck. One particularly notable bit is Nosferatu’s arrival and infiltration into London which has some of the most arresting visuals in the film.

5. Candyman

Set right in the heart of Cabrini Green circa 1990, Candyman inspires paranoia and dread with an undefeatable antagonist, spiraling madness of the main character, and a haunting score by Philip Glass. The film also opens with a breathtaking overhead crawl across the streets of downtown Chicago.

4. Mulholland Dr.

The trailer may betray the nature of this film as more of a murder mystery or crime drama, but the nightmare-like efficiency with which David Lynch executes a scene concerning ‘The Man Behind Winkie’s” allows it to become the single scariest sequence I have ever seen or heard of.

3. The Twilight Zone

The film is generally tame throughout and offers not more than average jolts or shivers along its duration, but the real showstopper happens within the first eight minutes with some of the most comedic actors of the time, Dan Ackroyd and Albert Brooks.

2. The Evil Dead

Director Sam Raimi has far outshined the name of his debut feature with movies like Spiderman, but this still remains my favorite horror movie for many reasons. The acting is bad and the lighting is subpar, but the efficacy of the scares in this movie had even Stephen King jumping when he saw it in theaters.

1. The Shining

Speaking of Stephen King, this adaptation of one of his best and earliest works, while straying far from the source, creates its own psychological hell-hole littered with iconic and disturbing images. While many are familiar with the film and its select infamous scenes, a little known fact regarding it is that Kubrick altered the plot so as to introduce a subtext involving White Men trampling the rights of native Americans.

Samuel Pepys: Yuppie of the 1600s

When one is to read a series of historical journal entries, they expect something profound, weighty, or exciting to bring greater relevance to the source material. In Anne Frank’s diary we learn of a young girl’s maturation under the sadistic Nazi regime. However, when delving into Pepys I was nowhere near prepared for what amounted to gilded banality accentuated by the occasional intrusion of history.

In reading the month of January 1665, I discovered an odd parallel, however. Pepys on multiple occasions details the fashion, monetary status, possessions, or appearance of his friends and colleagues in an exceedingly materialistic way, often focusing away from events to describe status. These repeated incidents reminded me of a book I had read and particularly enjoyed for its striking satire of 1980s consumer culture. The book, American Psycho, uses its egotistical, misogynistic, and insane main character to draw criticism towards the ‘Me’ era fostered by Reaganomics. One of the humorous details of this work is they way in which the main character has a ‘responsibility’ to detail everything by means of aesthetics. This is a prime example of that:

“He takes off the expensive looking Walkman…He continues talking as he opens his new Tumi calfskin attaché case he bought at D.F. Sanders. He places the Walkman in the case alongside a Panasonic wallet-sized cordless portable folding
Easa-phone (he used to own the NEC 9000 Porta Portable) and pulls out today’s paper.”

That excerpt comes from one of the first pages of the work, with the ellipsis removing explicit lines of dialogue from the business shark Yuppie, Timothy Price. What struck me so much about the relation between the two works is that the London of the 1600s is not that radically different from the Wall Street scene of the 1980s. All one would need to do is supplant Wall Street for Downing Street, Brokers for Accountants, CEOs for Royalty, Les Miserables for Vulpone, and Hooke’s Book of the Microscope for The Art of War.

The other parallel between the book, the 1980s, and Pepys’ diary is the general lack of compassion on the behalf of other human beings. Naturally that’s a bit of Hyperbole, but in one instance Pepys shows a complete disregard for the death of a relative, Dr. Tom Pepys, saying that he is little sorry for his passing. Pepys also has a severe disrespect for women, on one occasion, seeing several of them in one day and treating each as a social occasion.

In essence, the point I make deals with Pepys being such an introverted man that he hardly notices the city he lives in is burning around him, going so far as to return to bed during the heat blaze, confident it will not consume his home. He sees plays to seem important, his knowledge is mainly acquired through popular literature, and his profession, while admirable, has been the breeding ground for iniquity for at least several centuries. He was a young urban professional who lived simply to get ahead of the pack, and cared nothing of what he left behind; with the exception of his precious diaries.

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,952325,00.html

25 Random Dealies

1. I am an only child, a position which has both its flaws and benefits.
2. Never have I broken a bone, received a cavity, or eaten radishes.
3. I was highly allergic to eggs as a child, which then transmuted somehow into a severe bee allergy.
4. My favorite color is green, though not for any aesthetic reason, but because enough of my friends and young relatives had chosen blue and I had decided to break the mold by choosing something unorthodox.
5. One of the many things that bothers me are individuals who profess an affinity for the Red Hot Chili Peppers in spite of how redundant they have become with each increasingly similar release.
6. I have met two members of Monty Python in person: Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones.
7. The only movie that has ever brought me to tears is Roberto Begnini's Life is Beautiful.
8. I have asthma.
9. I believe in a select few conspiracy theories which I will refuse to state to avoid suspicion by the still very active conspirators.
10. I am very liberal with my application of certain seemingly unmentionable words, which generally fall under the 'four letter' category.
11. I have an unnatural disdain for Poland.
12. My favorite musical group is Phantom Planet.
13. The sole reason I would not go to Africa, Asia, or South America are the unnaturally disturbing insects that populate the flora and fauna of these places.
14. I have most certainly seen over 500 movies and will most likely see 500 more within the next three years or so.
15. Currently, I am writing several books which fall under these categories: Novel, Novella, Short Story Collection.
16. I am deeply interested in questions of ethics, morality, and politics along with their implications in today's world.
17. The only athletic endeavor which I ever excelled is and was boxing.
18. For a career I would consider the following: Law, Writing, Directing, Public Relations, Stand Up Comedy, Acting, Journalism.
19. I loathe everything mundane and extravagant. My preference lies in mediation.
20. At every second, of every day I strive to find or create humor; be it in the form of satire or flat out farce.
21. I have a severe hatred of only three things: Scientology, Henry David Thoreau, and Twilight.
22. My least favorite Back to the Future Film is Back to the Future 2
23. The only countries I have visited outside the US are Canada and the Bahamas.
24. I don't think I could ever pull off a moustache.
25. I think I could literally pull off a moustache.