The Internet is Boring...

...and I haven forgotten how to blog...

...and the NinjaPirate's blog layout makes my eyes wiggle if I read it for too long...

...and the Random Kitty-Cat's blog mad e me do stupid quizzes for half a bloody hour...

...I should be studying Lukes' theory of power.

Amaranth

She stands on a mountain top, watching the wind beat the snow against the rock. Her world lies out before her and she rules it all...

1602 Reprise

Gave in and ordered Neil Gaiman's 1602 from Forbidden Planet's website. Why, when I have no money?!

Also ordered Alan Moore's Writing For Comics, which is something I would love to do and is dotted somewhere in my list of 'Life Goals.' That and script a computer game, have films made of my books and altogether try and write in as many possible media as I can.

But, more to the point...

WHY DO I KEEP BUYING THINGS!!!!

On a plus, Free Comic Book day was last week so I don't need to go buy any more comic books.

YAY!

Coraline

Months ago I paid £40 for a signed copy of Coraline. That means that Neil Gaiman has touched it. I am not a freak. He is my hero, I'm allowed to get excited. It's also signed by Dave McKean, who is also a very cool guy. But I digress...

While waiting for Donnie to get home from work last night (yes, I am that sad that I can't sleep until I know he's home safe), I picked up the book, thinking, I'll just read a little. Just to keep me awake...

103 pages down the line, I realised it was 2am and I was working at 9:45 the next morning. Frantically, I put my book down and buried my face into my pillow.

Then came the moment where I had to decide whether or not it was safe enough to take my £40-touched-by-my-hero copy of the book to work. Wrapping it in a Forbidden Planet bag to protect it from rain, marks and other such disasters (!), I placed it carefully in my bag. Come my lunch hour, I hurried my KFC and washed my hands (to avoid smudges and smears, of course!), then settled down with the dark and mysterious world of Coraline.

I nearly cried when my lunchbreak came to an end and I was only 12 pages from the end. Then the bloody bus got through every light and almost nobody got on or off, thus getting me home in about 10 minutes for the first time ever. It took me until after the dinner dishes were cleared away to finally get my last 5 pages read and finally close over the hardback cover, placing the book back into the safety of my bookshelf.

Awesome book. It has the quality of a children's story but the depth and darkness of an adult mind. Gaiman is a genious when it comes to tone and atmosphere, as I'm forever trying to tell my tutoring kids. Every sentence feels rich yet never overdone. The scene with the children in the mirror was a piece of beauty and the pages in the theatre had me genuinely scared.

It was somewhat reminiscent of MirrorMask in places, what with the whole parody of reality idea and the young female heroine with mother issues, but still gorgeous. Again, the Dave McKean art present in both.

The film comes out this year or next over here, I can't remember, but Henry Selick is directing; the man who brought Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas to life and did a fantastic job at it. It looks like it's going to be awesome and seems like there might be a 3D version of it, which I very much want to see since I missed 3D Beowulf.

Anywho...will no doubt be reporting more when I hear more.

Trailer can be seen above and it looks gorgeous. That is because NEIL GAIMAN IS A GENIOUS AND I HEART HIS BRAIN.

I Don't Believe that Anybody Feels the Way I Do About You Now

"Aha! Well I have 4 forfeits so get on with it!"
"AHA! I have 23!"
"Shut up and do it, man!"
*shocked face*
"AND STOP DOING THAT RIGHT NOW!"
"But it's a great face!"
"No, it's not! Now get to it!"

Laughing and shaking his head, he picks up the guitar and messes with some chords. Plays a few notes and asks me Turned on yet?! I shake my head, grinning, lying reclined on his bed, with my chin resting on my hands, watching his fingers dance. What about now? Only a little. He grins and gets up, raiding his desk for a capo and Teeheehee-ing as he fixes it to the frets. I know exactly what he's doing but ask anyway, to which he replies another Teeheehee.

Months ago, I told him that this song makes me melt. That it sends a pleasurable shiver up my spin and straight back down. It's one of these songs that paints a picture of kissing by candlelight in my head. It's one of my "sex songs". You know those songs that are just made to make love to?

He places the plectrum between his teeth - which I instantly remove, because I know he'll choke himself - and starts to pick away at the strings.

Wonderwall by Ryan Adams.

I'd like to tell you I smile coolly and just nod along but I don't. I lie back and close my eyes, teeth resting on my bottom lip. My body quakes and I look up at him. His eyes rest on the guitar then he turns away, staring off into space. I try to imagine what he's thinking as my feet slide up his headboard and my knees tremble. Words dance around my head and I have to stop myself from singing along because I swore I'd never let him hear my awful singing voice. I don't want the moment to end and my body heats up as he plays; the sound of the strings and the sight of him playing, driving me wild.

The song draws to a close and he stops, one hand slipping from the guitar to touch my face, fingertips tracing my cheekbones, my jaw, my lips.

"Well, you turned on now?"
"Teeheehee."
"What're you like?"
"Wanting you terribly right now..."

What's New Pussycat?

I met with Miss Kitty yesterday for coffee (hot chocolate, of course). She brimmed with pride as she offered me a cookie with Oreos that she had made herself. She's a clever cookie with her clever cookies and I realise how much I'd missed out on as she catches me up with her Kitty-shaped life. I smile as she dips her cookie into her coffee and I gulp my hot chocolate and build myself up to the trip to Borders' Narnia-esque toilet. I recite the bathroom code in an American accent like the Starbucks man once told me and Miss Kitty laughs that oh-my-crazy-friend-Emma-when-will-she-ever-learn-to-be-normal laugh and it makes me laugh as I disappear to find Mr Tumnus in the ladies.

Later, we venture out into the rain for our trip to the writers' group. It's torrential. I mean torrential. We scramble under one tiny, rusted brolly, asses sticking out either end, soaking through. Poor Miss Kitty's boots fill up, due to her lack of trouser leg and my jeans wrap tightly around my ankles, ruining my guitar shoes.

Above us the sky flashes purple. Frikkin' awesome.

Tiny Moments That Made Me Smile Today...

1) The fact that the Astonishing NinjaPirate didn't flinch as I pulled down the neck of his t-shirt, untucked his label and took a mental note of his t-shirt size.

2) That he walked me down the hill to see my advisor of studies and didn't mind when she wasn't in and he'd walked all that way for nothing.

3) Waking to a text from Donnie - about a magical, musical bakery where the baker wears nothing but an apron - that he'd sent me while I was asleep.

4) Making a date with Miss Kitty. I miss her.