A Fancy Way of Saying Not Much or 'David Tries Being a Third Year'

Well internet, I'm annoyed.

And I'll tell you for why. I'd call him JJ, but that unfortunately makes him sound cool, and in my opinion, so far, he is not. I am talking about the so-called master wordsmith James Joyce.

I'll be honest, I'm 40 pages into the 900 page leviathan confuse-athon and so far I am just that. Confused isn't the word, I may be confuzzled to say the least. My lecturer said to me in a meeting with him, that it was his personal opinion that Modernism (and James Joyce is the main flag-bearer for that particular critical theory) was a fancy way of saying not much at all. And I'm inclined to agree.

I understand modernism, I understand the movement to create new ways to tell stories. Without modernism we wouldn't have Catcher in the Rye, or Dracula, two stories told in ways which were previously unheard of. Catcher in the Rye, like Ulysses, the book I am struggling through, written in a stream of consciousness way, Dracula written as a series of letters and diary entries. A style which I found gripping and interesting, and it's why these are two of my favourite books.

Ulysses though. It makes me angry! Joyce makes so many claims as though they're gospel truth. And I understand why he writes, as in to get people to think about things, namely irish home rule and British imperialism at its time of writing, but this is hidden amongst so many other subplots and asides it's almost impossible to keep up with. In the first page alone I was confronted with three different ideals and preachy statements concerning religion, a quest for paternity and something else which my brain can't even start to remember. The only way these themes were brought to my attention was by consulting the notes.

'Stately, plumb Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: - Introibo ad altare Dei'

Would anyone like to guess what you're supposed to get from those opening lines to this book? Just a man having a leisurely stroll down the stairs to have a shave. Why he's so lazy he hasn't even done up his dressing gown? That crazy mo-fo.

While this is happening in the story, I am suppose to ignore this point, i.e. what is actually happening. Instead I'm supposed to remark on the crossed mirror and razor which makes a mockery of the Catholic church and the catholic mass as he creates a mock worship in his shaving routine. Therefore there's a distinct anti-religion theme. I'm supposed to take his ungirdled dressing down as to meaning that he's walking down the stairs naked, as in, displaying his penis. His ease with which he displays his penis is mean to represent his affinity with Neitzsche's Superman, the übermensch. The ideal representation of how a man should be. This is meant to lead me to the two main character's quest for their paternity, though Stephen Dedalus has not even been introduced to us yet. Then there's something else of importance about the fact that he used Latin frivilously. I can't remember because I can't fit anything else in my head.

That was six lines!

And sure, you can say 'but David, you're an English student, you're supposed to do this to any book.' And I'd agree, and I love doing it, but not to every single line, to a series of completely unrelated preachy points. I disagree with preachiness on all levels. My dissertation is centred mainly around this point. I dislike being told what to believe and what is good literature. I don't think this is good literature. I don't think good literature should include a vital notes section without which you miss the point of the book. And the notes are extensive. As in about 300 pages worth. 300 pages explaining the incomprehensible words in this stupid book!

I like finding the meaning in things, and I think it's impressive that so much can be put into a book. But is any of it necessary? Did I need to have all of this shoved down my throat by James Joyce? I don't think so. I think you get much much more from books written by John Green. I mention John Green a lot in my blogs and in life in general and there's a reason for that. His skill is to create a fantastic story with gripping characters which you can read in a day because you literally can't put his books down. You feel like any moment you're not reading his book is a moment wasted. When I pick up Ulysses, with a veritable groan I feel my heart sinking as I know that in about half an hour's time I'm going to have a headache and then find that I've only progressed 3 pages.

Interesting characters are vitally important to literature. I personally find it interesting to see the author through his characters. And what I see through the high and mighty, douchebag that is Buck Mulligan, and the reserved 'perfect man' that is Stephen Dedalus is the two sides of James Joyce, neither of which I like. Both of them preaching in their own ways.

It's an interesting story that books used to be sealed, and you had to break each new page as you progressed through the book. The vast majority of copies of Ulysses which have been found from it's time of publication were not broken in beyond page 50. As in no one could get through it. Did they miss out? I don't think so. They probably went and read Dracula, had a thumping good read, and then if  they wanted they learnt some really interesting and vital points about feminism and other things contained importantly within pages, which, insultingly at the time was seen as 'Tesco's Top Ten' literature. The 50 Shades of Grey of its day. And yes, times change, but really, 50 Shades of Grey is a steaming pile of horse manure. Dracula is a really good book. And yes that's my opinion. However I wouldn't be high and mighty enough to say without doubt that every person in the world must read Dracula. I highly recommend you give it a try but I don't think anything is vital literature. Least of all Ulysses.

So now I struggle on, because I must read about why James Joyce believes that boys playing sports and learning Classics in England led to World War One.

I shit you not. Page 41, here I come. *waves flag of sarcasm*

I Like to Pretend My Dressing Gown is a Cape or 'David Tries Culture'

As my title proclaims without shame or holding back, I enjoy mornings where I can wear my dressing gown because this means I can use the tassley thingies to hold it behind me as I come down the stairs as though I am wearing a cape. This means for about four seconds I can pretend to be Darth Vader, or preferably Thor from the Avengers. I have this preference for two reasons.

1. I am a comic book nerd
2. I dislike baddies

However, that is not what this blog is about. Actually, imagine if it was socially acceptable to wear your dressing gown outside, in the real world where people live. Everyone would use their tassley thingies to wear capes and pretend to be Thor, sure we would get teased by the Iron Mans of this world, but I do believe if we all had a cape the world would be a much happier place. Wars would end, arguments would settle and most importantly we'd all be superheroes.

But as I said, anyway.

I would really love to tell you that these strange asides that occur in my blogs are premeditated and that I'm clever enough to make my funny look spontaneous. Unfortunately I am this weird and these things just occur to me!

It may surprise you to learn that a 21 year old man who pretends he's Thor in the mornings went to the Tate Modern the day before yesterday. Believe it or not, I did, and hilarious moments were captured on film by my good friend Jocy as both me, her, Stu and Amy tried to figure out what any of the paintings hung in the gallery actually meant.

My favourite explanation of a painting was Stu's description of 'Curves and Circles' by Paule Vézelay:

According to Paule, the painting represents floating in an atmospheric space. We didn't even read this off of the placard next to the painting because Stu's description is so accurate. This painting is clearly a depiction of the squiggles in your vision which you can never really focus on. For that I must thank Vézelay, this is what they look like. What they are? Who knows, one of life's many unanswerable questions. If you have any idea what they actually are then please leave a comment! Also what are hiccups? I feel as though if you know what causes random squiggles in my eye you might be able to tell me why I hiccup a lot. 

The Tate Modern, aside from having a whole two floors closed, the viewing of which would have totted up to a grand total of £45 each to see the three exhibitions we would have greatly liked to have seen. Has an excess of two things for me. Peculiar nudes and bodily functions.

Yes, great artists see it a great necessity to capture moments such as farting and weeing on canvas for the world to see. Why Picasso? It was not on my bucket list to see any woman fart or wee. Let alone at the same time, let alone a slightly podgy one with her nose in the wrong place! There was also a painting of a man with a champagne glass reclining on a couch with a very smug look on his face as if to say 'yes, this is my penis, enjoy.' What disturbs me is that this was a painting of that particular artist's student! I think he was holding a champagne glass. Maybe my mind slipped that in, just to add a touch of class to that most peculiar painting.

After being informed among other things that a cart represented a goat and that several lumps of what I can only describe as poo were actually representations of primordial animals. I think primordial, primeval maybe? Those animals which became bigger animals because of evolution. Don't say I'm not informative. Anyway after seeing all these things and as our meanings of paintings became better and better, I had an idea. I think that under every painting in any gallery there should be a little notebook, and on that notebook an art-enthusiast can record his or her own meaning of the painting. Then I would collect all this information in a book and I'd get rich. But still, capitalist ideas aside I think this is a good idea. I find it very interesting to hear what other people think of art, be it paintings, books, films or indeed anything created by someone else.

Needless to say our favourite part of the gallery was the giftshop. Me and Amy got pens in the shape of pencils! I kid you not! The rubber is the clicker and a pen nib comes out of the front! Our minds were more than blown. I wanted so many books though, I really wish that the Tate Modern shop was my library and I could just sit in there all day flicking through books on modernism getting increasingly more confused yet intelligent. 

If I reached any conclusion as I was strolling round having a laugh with my friends about art, it was this:

I think art should be difficult, I don't like paintings which show just a grey blob. Or not even a blob, just a canvas painted the one shade of grey. I think art should show some degree of talent. Not something I can do on microsoft paint *cough* Kandinsky *cough*. People might disagree with me, please do via the comments bit, I just think if there's a message you want to communicate via a painting, fine, just do it in such a way which shows a bit of talent. Look at Picasso! You wouldn't call his work the most difficult looking but I'd defy any unartistic person to replicate a Picasso to the same standard.

I decided though that I have two favourite artists to add to my list which only included Van Gogh up to that moment. The first is Patrick Caulfield who Jocy showed us at the Tate Britain on a previous adventure. I think he just makes art in a very interesting way, half cartoony and half realist. I also like Magritte, no Matisse, no Magritte, the 'Ceci n'est pas un pipe' one. I like confusing myself and to be able to say 'a representation of a representation of a representation' in circles of upper class people before running away twiddling my moustache and cackling as my new identity as 'the Confuser' appeals only too much to me. Oo I could have a cape with a question mark on it.

See the cape did have a point.

Patrick Caulfield - After Lunch:

Rene Magritte - Ceci n'st pas une pipe:

I feel I should explain why I like Magritte's paintings so much. This one in particular, people would say 'it's a pipe' but it's not a pipe, it's a representation of a pipe. I hope this impresses people as much as it impresses me. I think it's a stage of postmodernism. There can be a painting of an easel looking out of a window with a painting of the view through the window. Of course there is no view through the window because it's a representation of a window, therefore the painting in the painting is a representation of a representation, and then the whole painting is actually a representation of this whole confusing extravaganza. I'm going to go and do some painting.

My friends Jocy and Amy are amazing vloggers on youtube, I'd highly recommend giving them a watch:

Jocy - http://www.youtube.com/user/AccioJellyBean

Amy - http://www.youtube.com/user/amzyydoodles

I Contradict this Snobbism or 'David Tries Blobbery'

I really hate snobbery.

I could end it there really, it'd be the shortest blog ever but heavens to Betsy it would get my point across!

Who was this Betsy woman by the way? If you have any ideas or answers a cheeky little comment would be much appreciated!

But anyway, snobbery. On the plane back from Spain a couple of days ago, I was having a chat with my friend Ryan about it and during the chat I wondered what the opposite to it was. The feeling of looking back up at the people who look down their noses at you. I've experienced snobbery on many occasions in my life. Instances jump out at me in the past few months and I've come to find the worst kind of snobbery comes out of the blue.

When I went to the London Book Fair for example, the amount of people, in their clean cut, boring coloured suits who would look down their noses at me was off the scale. I was just wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt and some green chinos because following the crowd is fun.

It's strange that you can even experience snobbery for doing things like that. I like chinos! Well maybe that's a bad example, I don't like them as much as I did, I started to get the impression I was dressing like a member of One Direction and immediately found some jeans. I especially reject chinos and indeed any long trousered leg shielding device during this mini heatwave we're now having in England. See Mr Cameron! Drought! This is what it feels like.

Anyway Ryan and I discovered there was no word for those of us who looked back up the noses of judgement. I'd like to suggest blobbery because it sounds funny, but it has nothing to do with chubbiness so maybe it needs rethinking. But anyway, snobs come in all shapes and sizes and it's strange to me that while it may have been at some point, it has nothing to do with class distinctions.

Class interests me in a big way, and I'll always jump on such a question if it's one of my chosen eight in an English exam. It's why I really love George Orwell and have many differently covered copies of 1984. It is a love of Orwell which has subjected me to my subject on many an occasion. As an English student I feel as though (from my experiences of talking to snobs) that my favourite author should be someone like Gabriel Garcia Marquez or someone equally nichéy. Orwell, due to the unfortunate fact that Animal Farm and 1984 are on GCSE and lower school syllabuses, people would view my favourite author with a certain degree of 'oh you haven't really tried have you.'

I contradict this snobbism. Why shouldn't my favourite writer be one who writes deeply interesting stories and essays in such a way which is easy for the reader to pick up. I love that you can see Orwell's thought process as he writes. I love how the books are clearly great stories but also hold another intellectual level to them. I always disagree when a book is just the message and not the story. I'd also say my other favourite authors are Anthony Horowitz and John Green. Snobbery would probably dictate that they're 'below my level' or something equally ridiculous. I dare you to read a John Green book and not come out seeing the world in a slightly different, improved light. The clever thing which always amazes me about a book and I've more than likely said it before, is that the reader can get different things out of it depending on who they are. 1984 epitomizes this. Look how many other books cite 1984 as their main influence. I bought 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami purely based on the fact that I thought it might have something a bit Orwellian about it. (1Q84 - 1q84 - 1984) And also Waterstones and Amazon kept on recommending it to me.

I'm useless at ignoring consumer advice. Or shop assistant advice. It's not even advice it's just sneaky and aimed at poor susceptible people like me. I was in Subway the other day for instance and I was being good, I only got a 6", but right before I paid the shop assistant asked me 'do you want three cookies for 99p?' And I stopped, briefly considered before replying, 'yeah I do actually!' I'm useless, if a shop assistant offers me something I'll more than likely accept. Maybe it's a British thing.

But anyway snobbery. The one that really gets me is music snobbery. Musical prescriptivism gets right on my tits to coin a phrase from my cockney heritage. Obviously everyone likes different things, but it's people who tell other people, as Dara O'Briain says 'don't listen to these sounds in your ears, they are the wrong sounds, you must listen to these sounds.' And I'm 100% with Dara there, why should I listen to those sounds? I'm perfectly happy here listening to Keane and while I may not personally like Tinie Tempah for example, I wouldn't go and say someone should stop listening to Mr Tempah in favour of Keane. I am willing to give things a try, and I'd hope people would do the same because Keane are bloomin' great. I love expanding my musical horizons, and if I'm honest I'll always go backwards into musical history to get something new. I absolutely love the blues for instance. You know you get those singers whose voice or playing guitar or whatever they may be doing with music really seems to connect with you. Maybe it's just me being all romantic and silly but when I listen to Eric Clapton I go into a bit of a zen mode and I might have some sort of epiphany or idea. I don't know what it is about particular musicians which do this. I hope other people experience this. If you do then please leave a comment, nice to know I'm that little bit less weird if there's two of us! Also comment to recommend me music! I'm always looking for more stuff. Particularly modern stuff. Anything but metal, just don't get it! Actually no, even metal, turn me, I'm really easily convinced.

It's all part of my personal world view that people should be able to like/do/love/be whatever they so desire. I really don't like the feeling of being judged for the way I choose to live my life. Because I like living my life and I'm really proud of what I'm doing with it. I don't think it's very human to think that you're somehow better than someone else just because of the things you like. I do believe you can be a better person in but one way, and that's treating other people nicely. I'm really honestly not paraphrasing a bible quote there. That comes from me, and that's the conclusion I've arrived at over recent times. Really, it's the only important thing and I think snobbery is a big old contradiction of claiming to try and do that.

So snobs, stop it.

See I've just had an idea for a book. Thank you Keane.

This Blog Might Break Your Head, I Apologise or 'David Tries Being Intellectual'

As the title clearly states, this blog may well break your head, so for this I must apologise sincerely. I include this as a disclaimer at the beginning to save me from any libellous cases involving brains falling out of your noses to escape the realm of mindfuckery I'm about to embark into.

Oh no I swore, should I swear? I don't see a particular problem with swearing personally as long as children know, that like drinking, driving, sex and everything else a bit fun in the world, it is age appropriate. However I would like younger people to read this. So I'll change it to mindfickery. You know what I mean.

A third blog in three days! I'm on a roll, and as before it's not because I've physically left my house and tried anything new. I suppose I've just tried a new way of thinking about something as I sit here musing in the morning about life the universe and everything, as is my usual routine. I've recently been doing some reading for my dissertation, which concerns the literary canon. (The collection of books which educated professor like folk deem it necessary to be taught in schools, Shakespeare, Austen, Aristotle etc) My thinking being, is this necessary and what attributes in books qualify them to be added to it. By the way, that's all approved and kosher, no stealsies.

What a power trip! Imagine being the guy that chose that! I won't go into my own dissertation topic, otherwise I'd probably be in danger of plagiarising myself. Imagine failing university because you plagiarised yourself, the ultimate shooting self in foot/peeing into wind/slapping self in face. Indeed the ultimate form of any unpleasant, embarrassing activity.

I don't think I'd be a good canon chooser, or Lord of Literature or whatever they call themselves. The power would go to my head. I'd start adding 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt' to be studied at university level as post-colonialist literature. The bear is the foreign other which must be hunted and we're not scared! At all times is must be noted that the native people must catch a big one, meaning that they must exorcise the largest foreign influence from their nation before it takes over in a country-wide bear epidemic. It'd be like Planet of the Bears and they'd store honey in the Statue of Liberty. Honey being our identity.

I've gone off on one. But my surreal rant does paint a picture of what I actually want to talk about. It is frightening that little old me, sitting in my living room, watching Friends in my dressing gown, superman trousers and bed hair, could think up a completely fabricated reading of a children's book that thousands of children read ever day. What if I did become a Lord of Literature, Master of the Canon and I decided that 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt' was post colonialist literature, and was a warning about foreign influences. Maybe it was a 1984-esque foreshadowing of middle eastern terrorism encroaching on our shores. Now that's a complete load of rubbish, but if I had enough people behind me and enough teachers and lecturers teaching the same thing, this idea, this anti-foreign people idea could be planted in the minds of the next generation of children. All because of this charming story of bravery by Michael Rosen.

This is a scary idea. And I'm afraid I must refer again to the vlogbrothers. While watching John Green's vlog on people's perception of Islam this morning something clicked in my head. He said that we are taught about Christianity and Judaism, but our teaching on Islam is limited at best. He didn't say this, but surely this means that Islam is an easy target for people to fear and victimise. Because we don't understand it, as is an unfortunate trait of our own humanity. John also said that we are taught in schools that 'our history' is the story of christianity in europe, whereas our actual history is a history of people in the world. The idea of religion and different sects of the big old confusing cookie jar of life that is religion.

Now I've always been a straight chocolate chip man, and the trying of any other cookie was a fearful image for me. The very thought of a white chocolate chip and macadamia?? Madness. But I tried it, and god it's good. I hope you see my metaphor. I'm not saying try other religions, or indeed try no religion at all, but I'm saying, full understanding is the key to everything. How many arguments in the world, big or small, from playground to nuclear war, are based around one or both sides not having full understanding of the other. I'd be willing to bet most of them.

Picture the scene, nameless London suburb, street corner, Cherise and Tiffani are having an argument in their tracksuits because Cherise is squeezing Tiffani's boyfriend Jorel (who is Irish and his name is actually Seamus) for money for child support for their baby, Kai. Tiffani has no idea that Jorel fathered Cherise's baby so she hits Cherise because she thinks that she just wants a slice of her boyfriend's Irish ass. If everyone in the situation understood, and didn't lie to one another, things could probably be sorted out.

Ok that humorous, hideously stereotyped picture is a bit silly but I think it illustrates my point. We're not lied to in schools exactly by saying that our history comes just from Christianity, but a certain level of the truth is withheld. I know why, someone upstairs has deemed it too complicated to teach the youth of the world that our existence is multi-faceted, complicated and ultimately mindfickery.

There are a certain amount of factors against my argument. John Green for instance was more than likely talking about American schools. I do not know the level to which we are taught about Islam in this country, because I'm old and can't remember. However if this is true of american schools, then surely recent history has taught us that understanding of the Islamic faith is nothing short of vital to the education of young American minds.

The fact that the educational canon is limited is a flawed and dangerous idea. The fact that anything can be taught in a certain way with the right amount of twist and backing is a terrifying idea. In my view, the literary canon is in some way necessary. Personally I read the likes of Shakespeare and then went on to look at others around him which aren't necessarily taught at schools. Because I like reading and it interests me. In schools though, where things like religion are concerned I think full understanding is completely and utterly vital. I could argue about the whole teaching evolution vs teaching the story of Adam and Eve thing but I could go on forever and people will stop reading. You get my point though I hope.

In short, understanding things before we rush off and argue about them is so important to the human race.

I hope all of that made some form of sense, and if you'd like to comment on anything I've said, please do, I'd love to hear what you think.

John Green's vlog: http://youtu.be/TpcbfxtdoI8

I'd Like to Call Him Tony Stark or Mr Weasley or 'David Tries Being Opinionated'

Alright I didn't actually technically try anything new for this blog. Being a bit naughty I know, but hey, it's raining (again *) so I thought I'd communicate a thought I had this morning.

I often think about the future. Most of the time nowadays this involves all of the pointless, expensive things I would like to have but unfortunately do not possess the money to attain. The things I'd like to have aren't always so superficial. Recently as a previous blog mentioned (David Tries Being Productive) I've had a renewed thirst for gaining knowledge. It might be to do with watching the vlogs of Hank and John Green on Youtube. If you've not read the novels of John Green then I'm sorry you must, get your bottom to Waterstones, skip whatever work/school/day you had planned and have a read. He is one of the best writers on earth in my opinion and I will very much enjoy Looking for Alaska which I've saved for my upcoming holiday. The brothers live far apart and communicate with a vlog a week to each other. These vlogs are not only hilarious and celebratory of the existence of nerds and geeks and everything in between, but I find them very thought provoking.

Hank's last one for instance was about the recent controversy about states in America making gay marriage illegal. I'll leave a link to Hank's vlog at the end because he can communicate his thought's a lot better than me. I'll give it a go though.

Who decides that someone can't be who they are? That's just Nazi if you ask me. There are so many ridiculous arguments against being gay and I cannot understand the thought processes behind them. Arguments like 'it's unnatural' and 'it'll devalue the idea of straight marriage.' How and how? Natural is what people do with their lives, everything is natural because we are natural, and people are gay so gay is natural. There, take that nay-sayers, logic defies hate. Unnatural behaviour if you ask me is killing someone, that's unnatural, mugging someone of their livelihood, that's unnatural. Hating against someone for what they believe and love, that's unnatural. And devaluing straight marriage? Because celebrities getting married only to divorce five minutes later doesn't do that.

And the biggest thing which people say is 'God hates gay people.' I'll save my personal religious views for another day. Lets just say I'm not affiliated with any religion in particular, I believe in something but not in a conventional sense. Agnostic if you want to label me I guess. I have looked in the Bible though, and at the passages people interpret as anti-gay, and they're so flimsy it's ridiculous. I'm not insulting a religion, please don't think I'd do that, but I don't like people interpreting things to breed hate. Tell me, what's the difference between this and people interpreting the Qu'ran to blow up a building? I DO NOT question anyone's right to believe in anything, or indeed a right to believe in nothing. I question the sense in doing this to a so-called holy text to contradict the big message a little later in the same text. 'Treat one another as you would like to be treated.' How would you like it if the government made being straight illegal?

I apologise I'm getting on my high horse. I do have views though, and I'm not having a moan, well I am. I just think hating is nonsensical and predominantly an occupation of nasty small minded people. In David's world we would be able to like what we like, believe in what we believe and love who we love. It really annoys me when we as the human race appear to take a step backwards towards achieving this equality which everyone, hater or not apparently strives to achieve.

Now liking what we like, that's what I really wanted to talk about today. I hope I won't now devalue what I've just said. Maybe it's good, normal service has been resumed. I guess I did try something new today then! Communicating views like one of those proper blog people. I feel like I've been initiated.

Anyway, as I was saying before I was distracted, and it supports my mini-rant in a way, being knowledgable and understanding things is celebrated by the vlogbrothers, and I certainly aspire to be like them. Reading books on modernism for instance for one of my modules next year is something that I complained about only about a year ago, but now can't get enough of! I want to talk about people like Jaques Derrida and Jean Beaudrillard with conviction and knowledge behind me. And it makes me very happy when someone like John Green refers to someone like that in a vlog and I know who they are. If you don't know who they are I urge you to do a bit of research. Especially Beaudrillard, if you like artsy stuff in any way shape or form I think you'll find it interesting. Look up his 'four stages of postmodernism,' it'll leave you confused but enlightened at the same time! Or maybe I'll blog about it in the future. Actually I think I will, stay tuned!

What I really wanted to talk about today, which seems a bit unimportant now, was my perfect image of my future that I had this morning. It includes me sitting in a library in my future house. I've always wanted a library. One with big windows overlooking fields and trees and shelves groaning with books with rolling ladders. But not just books, I'm secretly obsessed with comic books.

Well not really secretly. It's something else I've noticed in thinking about our right to be who we are, and watching vlogbrothers that I have a right to like what I like in life and be proud of it. I went through school being downtrodden and mocked for wanting to learn things and for being a nerd, and it was this that broke me a little bit and why I'm only regaining my confidence with myself now. I'm glad I have, because I can now say, 'yeah I'm a geek' and 'yeah I go to bed reading Spider-man and Tintin.' I love comics, I think they're hugely under-appreciated. I recently went to see the Avengers with Stu which might have spurred on my love for them somewhat.

I just think, as a story writer myself, the fact that these writers and artists can keep stories going for literally thousands of issues, drawing on all corners of sci-fi and fantasy is amazing. How they keep on thinking of fresh ideas every week is admirable and aspirational and I'd love to emulate them in my own writing life.

Therefore in my library with my rolling ladders I want a whole stack of comic books all lined up in order because I'm a bit OCD with shelving. Not just comics though, I've recently taken the dive off the musically intellectual high board. This might sound poncy and pretentious, but I've recently been trying to get into classical music and I intend to move onto opera. I was inspired by Britain's Got Talent believe it or not. You might have seen it, look up 'Jonathan Does Opera' on youtube and you'll find him. He sang Opera with his girlfriend Charlotte on BGT and I was completely and utterly blown away. He was singing in a different language but he brought an emotional response out of me. So I'm now very interested in exploring the classical strand of music. I really want to go to the Royal Opera House wearing a suit (because you have to) and feel jolly well clever.

So I want lots of records of classical music. I might have mentioned it before, I collect LPs, I just love them. I love all things classic really! That's why I write with a fountain pen. But records I think are special. First of all they baffle me. How do they make sound?? They're grooves in a bit of plastic! And the sound's far and away better than any other way of listening to music. I'm sure others who know the difference between speakers would argue, but to my ears vinyl is best.

And also I'd like some Burt Bacharach and Bob Fox, an amazing folk singer I discovered in Warhorse. Bacharach though is because of Mr Gallagher's influence. I defy you to go listen to 'Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head' and not smile. So I want records in my dream library, and a gramophone to play them on. I can read my comics with my music with a nice cup of tea and a packet of bourbon biscuits.

Then I could do some writing and read some books on theories of stuff and paint a picture. Tell me that doesn't sound like a perfect hate-free place to be?

I also want a hamster, he can roll around in a little hamster ball and keep me happy. I'm easily pleased. He'll either be called Tony Stark or Mr Weasley I haven't decided yet.

That's right ladies, all of this is single.

If you'd like to comment on anything then there's a box made just for you below this post! Or if you'd really like, give me an email as my super-special email account just for my readers. OhBloggingHell@hotmail.co.uk.

* Today is the 14th May 2012 and the weather outside looks like this:

According to the good people in our government here in Great Britain, this is called a drought. I know, we voted for them. Oh wait... **

** I do understand that we are only technically in a 'drought' because last year we had a really low rainfall and as a result of this the water levels we have to use have to be brought back up again. Therefore we have to be thrifty with our water usage. But still! Is it that hard to give this particular situation another name? This is quite clearly not a drought. A drought is something I associate with sun and hot and sand and the start of Order of the Phoenix! We thought of a name for Twitter we can think of a new name for this!! Watergate! Oh no that's a thing. Droughtgate? Oh that doesn't really solve the issue. I'll get on it.

Hank's vlog about gay rights: http://youtu.be/PD-INsIbVcw

Some kind Super Shampoo! or Superpoo? or 'David Tries Being Sensible'

I'm afraid I've lied to you dear reader, I have been in no way sensible. God knows I tried but I'm just too much weird to manage it!

It all started so well. I tried wet shaving yesterday and oh my god was it worth it! I've always been a dry shave and stubble trimmer kind of guy, but I just thought the other day 'you know what man-skill I really should master?' Of course I speak of the wet shave. It's featured so much in our TV culture, the father that teaches the son how to carve the hair from his face using a series of razors. Is there any more manly moment in the world? You might as well spit from a car, powersliding around a racetrack set on fire with vodka. Even that pales in comparison to using whatever Gilette-Fusion-Power-Stealth-Awesome-Sex-Device that you've decided to use to tidy up your face fuzz. Some consumer advice, the Gilette Fusion Stealth Power is actually a waste of money, do as I did and buy the Gilette Fusion Pro-glide. I know, it sounds a bit nancy but when you hold it and you feel the weight and man is with razor then you'll know you've made the right decision.

And the shaving gel! I've never had a more amazing substance on my face...that came out wrong. What I mean to say is, it starts off as gel, until you rub it in, and it explodes into some kind of crazy lubricating foam stuff! That's soap you idiot! I hear you cry but trust me it makes soap look like last season's chinos.

Anyhow, with this highly successful new thing tried and a beautifully closely shaved smooth face, I tried very hard to continue my sensible(ish) week by going to the gym this morning. I'm going on holiday next week with my friends and I'm determined to do something over the next few days about my takeaway belly. This means of course that I am now aching. What worries me is that the game of Kinect Sports I had with Stu and Simon last night has made me ache more than the gym. Either Microsoft has created the world's greatest fitness device or I'm doing the gym wrong.

I was quite proud of myself as I grabbed a Subway on the way home. (Only a 6 inch, getting a footlong after the gym would have been a bit like painting the wall of your living room a delightful shade of magnolia and then weeing all over it) I then had the world's greatest sit-down on my return and considered what to do with the rest of my day.

After watching Glee and League of Their Own, horror struck me. There was something I was supposed to do today. I was missing out on an opportunity that every man woman and child in the universe would hate me for passing up. If you have not done what I've just been to do then I implore you, go and do the same! There is still time.

Today in the Sun, there is a free UEFA Euro 2012 Poland-Ukraine Panini Football Sticker Album. Football stickers are one of my favourite things ever. Or they were when I was a bit younger. When the Sun Dream Team emailed me yesterday (I'm 2nd in our house league by the way, not bad) about this once in a lifetime deal, I was very much so excited and decided to not make a fool of myself and pass it up. Which is why I'm glad that the album is sat next to me on the sofa and I plan to get a job for the soul purpose of completing it. A feat which we all strive for but few manage.

My trip to Sainsbury's therefore was where my sensibleness or sensibilitude if you will (new word, use it wisely) promptly disappeared. It hadn't started well since I was only going to get a sticker album. But somewhere between watching Glee and dramatically miming Noel Gallagher songs on the walk there I went a bit mad. I shouldn't really be allowed to go to Sainsbury's by myself. Yes I bought milk and 48 Weetabix, a sensible breakfast option...

Just a quick aside, what is the point of Shredded Wheat? What a diabolical waste of breakfast! They're hollow for God's sake! Ian Botham tells us about their nutritional value from inside them, I've seen it on TV! But they're just so dull! I'd rather have Ricicles and no one wants Ricicles.

Anyway, I then bought Shampoo as I was out. A new Herbal Essences one, this once promising 'Renewed Colour' or something along those lines. (Really straight honest) An idea struck me as I browsed the brightly coloured hair-oriented delights that I maintain are in the aisle which clearly says 'Men's Toiletries'. All you girls are being so manly with Herbal Essences! Anyway, I suddenly thought, what if I combined Seductively Straight, with this colour one, with the one which adds volume! A shampoo I've always steered clear of, the last thing my tangled mess of hair needs is volume. But surely, if I combined it with the other two I'll have hair rivalled only by David Tennant and David Ginola! I could merely flick my hair and the ladies would flock around me in bikinis! I wouldn't even need Lynx. I'll have some kind of Super Shampoo! or Superpoo! Oh no, maybe not. It's a thought anyway.

I implore you to find a stranger man than I.

My trip to Sainsbury's was met with a small fail however. I did also attempt to buy a hanging basket of strawberries because I really like strawberries, but the item was recalled and the self checkout machine freaked out so I followed suit and ran away.

Some things even I won't be judged for and trying to buy a recalled hanging basket of strawberries is one of them.

The Monster Ate all my Cards! or 'David Tries Climbing a Magic Mountain'

No I'm not on an acid trip. Well what I tried was very trippy but I've not consumed anything adverse. I'm talking about a video game sadly for those of you who see video games as pointless and silly. If you're going to play one though and there's a PS3 anywhere near your current vicinity, I'd recommend hopping onboard the Playstation Network and spending £9.99 of your hard earned pounds and pennies on this game.

It was just, wow! Is my response to it. I wish I could have filmed me playing it, because from my housemate's reactions it was a funny sight to behold. It was first brought to my attention by the humorous tweets of Dara O'Briain. Who I'd recommend following if you don't already, a very prolific twitterist. And an avid gamer if the hilarious section of his last tour is anything to go by! I remember annoying the people  around me with my hysteric cackle. He communicated the frustrating annoyance of stabbing at your controller and hitting 'toggle maps' or how every game in the world has a different button for 'crouch'.

Anyway, based on this, I trust his gaming judgement. I'm not a huge gamer, I have somehow collected all three main consoles over a number of years but if I play for longer than an hour I get a headache because I'm an old man. So my relationship with video games is - I like them and I'm always impressed with the latest advances in them, but I'm not on them all the time.

This was something a bit special. It's made by ThatGameCompany who have only made a couple of games before, a reportedly equally trippy Snake-like creation called Flow, and something that looked a bit airy-fairy by the picture on Wikipedia called Flowers. Journey took my breath away and my decision to buy it was based on a reply tweet from the big man himself! I asked Dara 'Journey yea or nay?' and he replied 'Journey, definitely yea' So about an hour of download later I was playing.

It's so different to any other game I've ever played. First of all the graphics are stunning. You take your simple cloaky character through a series of locations, I won't ruin it for you but you start in a desert and lets just say when you get to snow your breath gets taken away. I got very into it, apparently making scared noises and getting very sad when a monster attacked my little man who can't attack back! It was very cruel of the monster I thought!

It's so hard to describe, the only real objective is to journey (surprise surprise) towards this mountain, it shines and you want to get there. The vast majority of the game is moving towards shiny things. I'm not selling this very well. It only takes about an hour and a half to complete but it's genius, there are only a few controls, and you're never entirely sure what you're doing but you carry on playing and then you get to the end (SPOILER) and it catapults you straight back to the start and I'd play it all over again. I suppose they're probably trying to make some kind of profound statement about life but I'd play it again just for the mouth-dropping scenery and you never know something else might happen this time! What if there are different journeys and different ways to get to the mountain?! What if I can get my own back against the scary dragon monsters that attack me and eat my shiny jumping cards? (You get the ability to jump by absorbing this floating pieces of magic (probably)).

Or alternatively you can give your online playmates a jump by standing next to them. This is the other amazing thing about Journey. It's all online, everyone who plays is put into the same world and you journey together and sometimes help each other to get past obstacle. You can't talk you just help each other, and you can't hurt each other. I felt I should play the Beatles or the Grateful Dead, throw on some tie-dye and start swaying singing kum-bay-ya.

In short, I climbed the magic mountain, and I'd do it again.

I am this geeky, but I got a reply tweet from Dara O'Briain, worth it.

Oh and I also joined Pottermore, duel me! SeerWatch8159. A blog for another day when I figure out how to defeat Quirrell and Voldemort.

Does Anyone Love a Horse That Much? or 'David Tries Spontaneous Theatre'

The answer to that question, worryingly, is probably yes, but thankfully this blog isn't about that. I didn't go to see Equus.

I've had tickets to see Warhorse for a couple of weeks, luckily I saw a ticket on Seatwave for £25 and I thought why not? I've wanted to see it since it came to the National Theatre. We've all seen the adverts, the impressive, slightly eerie puppet horses, the world war one setting, the reports from other people that it made them cry. That's like catnip for David. Most things make me cry, apart from Schindler's List for some reason. Of all the things! Marley and Me? tearsville, Up? cried like a baby, but real life horror? No, shocked definitely but no tears! I felt quite bad to be honest. I think I was too shocked to cry, and that was true watching this as well. But I'll come to that.

The other day, while I sat at home with Michael watching David Tennant in 'The Minor Character', a monologue by Will Self that some intellectual chap decided to put on television to confuse the audience of great britain, I got theatre fever. I was going to see Warhorse in a couple of days so I could probably wait, but as the Family Guy fanfare graced our TV I started idly searching the National Theatre website to see if I could use my entry pass. Something I'd highly recommend if you're between the age of 18-25! You can get into National Theatre productions for £5 if there are seats left! Well worth it!

I first of all booked to see One Man Two Guv'nors in a couple of weeks which I've very excited about. I then stumbled across something called 'The Pitmen Painters'. I don't know why it appealed to me. I like painting I suppose, I bought 3 canvases today from my favourite art shop in Berwick Street, Soho. Something about this play drew me in though so I read the synopsis. A group of miners in Newcastle in the 1930s start to go to an art appreciation class to try and better themselves intellectually and challenge the stereotype of the working class. The reviews said 'hilarious' 'touching' 'everyone should see this play' and see this play I did!

I used my entry pass because the play also ended today! Which is a sad thing because the Pitmen Painters was absolutely amazing. I've never laughed so hard in my life! The five men who took the class were all so different and the acting was incredible! I later found out that the play was written by the same guy who wrote Billy Elliot, Lee Hall, and funnily enough who also wrote the screenplay for the recent Warhorse film! I very much enjoyed my spontaneous trip to the theatre and I'll be doing this a lot more in the coming months. I find when I go to London I always find more things I want to see and do, and I've found that trying new things has led to quite a fulfilling way of life. I think I'm experiencing the same thing Danny Wallace did when he wrote Yesman, which I recommend to every person in the world! Saying yes to things does lead you to good stuff! Like when I finally send away that scratchcard for a sexy haircut and a river cruise.

The play got me thinking about art, I hate to going all pretentious, but it was a central theme of the play that the art the miners created was a personal thing for them and it was a message that they wanted to send people and their paintings being in galleries for people to see was important to them. I realised that if one rich person buys a painting and hangs it in a dusty corner of their mansion then that's selfish! I think art (if the artist wants it to be seen) should be for everyone, so they can all read a message from it. One of my favourite lines from the play (imagine it in a humorous geordie accent) was 'how are we supposed t' naa the meanin' if ye don' naa the meanin' of meanin''. The miners just wanted to know the message behind each painting as the artist put it down and it was the professor's job to teach them that each painting has a million meanings depending on who's looking at it. This is what I think about any art, paintings, books, music, films, the message is what you get out of it, and I love how a million different people can read something a million different ways. That's why I like galleries. I'm a geek.

On my way home, taking a slow, rather romantically wistful and thoughtful stroll through the rain nudging my way down the Strand, I decided to stop at the menus outside a few restaurants. I wouldn't go in by myself, that'd be loserish, but I like to stop and read the menus to make myself hungry. I like to think it gives me an adventurous air of someone richer than myself. So I stopped at a few until one caught my eye, it looked new, it looked tasty, it looked exotic to me. So I stopped and spent a good few minutes studying the menu.

'I must look so cool,' I thought to myself smugly.

I realised it was a Zizzi and shuffled away embarrassed.

Friday the 13th! Poppycock, I said to myself as I returned home that evening, I went to bed eager to return to the Drury Lane area the following day for Warhorse in my drama double bubble.

'Shit, shit, shit, shit' I said to myself and Michael as I did a little run through the living room at 12.30, my shoes in hand as I realised I was due to see the matinee of Warhorse, not the evening production. I'd rather been looking forward to drinking my tea and watching the tantalising prospect of Man City v Norwich which Sky Sports had decided to deliver this very Soccer Saturday (6-1 to City, my hero Noel Gallagher will be skipping round his mansion up north somewhere) I was quite worried I wouldn't make it, my spontaneous intellectual double header was lying in tatters by my new converse on the floor.

'You have time,' Michael said, cooly sipping his own tea.

I hoped I did, I'd been looking forward to this for weeks! I rushed out of the house and stood and paced as is my usual routine by the bus stop waiting for the 490.

Half an hour, that's right, not 12 minutes as the happy, optimistic sign by the bus stop said, half an hour later I found myself on the bus. My trying new things regime was being tested for the first time, I didn't want to write this blog with the embarrassment of saying that I had to enter at the interval because I didn't look at my ticket!

Well I have to say, thank the baby Jesus, Allah and Buddha, and most importantly South West trains for the fast train to Waterloo. I arrived in plenty of time. Sat in my cheap seat at the side of the stage, yes with a safety rail blocking part of my view but you can't complain with the cheap seats!

'It's dramatic isn't it!' I said to the girl next to me at the interval. Well, after chatting for a little bit, my actual opener was: 'Why don't we get ice cream up here?' Genius. And true! I could only drool (not literally, there was a lady present) at the box of Haagen Daas an usher was handing out downstairs. My slightly obvious statement at the drama production being dramatic was fitting though, I was on the edge of my seat the whole 2 hours 40 minutes (yes it's that long). I mean yes I was on the edge of my seat so I could peer over the safety rail, but I would have been safety rail or not.

The puppetry is some of the most impressive thing I've ever seen, the puppeteers who control the two main horses, Joey and Topthorn (going to have to give you a spoiler warning) became characters in their own right and though they don't speak, they give the best performances. How two hunks of metal and fabric who don't talk can have their own little character traits because of the brilliance of two people in a costume and a man controlling the head blew my mind. I wasn't expecting to be able to see the puppeteers to be honest, and if I'm honest, if I was to go again, I'd make sure I was looking directly at the stage, because I think my cheap seats view may have shown me a little more than I wanted to see. It was like sideboob. Although I wouldn't necessarily complain about that, maybe a poor comparison.

Oh I did cry, I told you a lie there at the start, when Topthorn died my eyes started leaking of their own accord. When Joey was about to be put down though, I was too shocked and tense to cry, never in my life have I wanted a puppet to live to the end of the play so much. And I don't say that a lot. I won't spoil that for you though, he is the main character after all.

The quality of the production was incredible, the horses themselves, the rotating stage, the parts of the stage that came away to reveal convincing trenches, more parts of trenches that fell from the ceilings, the gunshots, the smoke, the explosions, it was just incredible and I can't recommend enough.

Oh my favourite character, the goose. There's this puppet goose that a man wheels around quacking happily, and he tries to get into the farmhouse whenever Rose, the mother of the main character goes inside, only the door always shuts in his face and he quacks. Maybe a 'you had to be there' goose.

Oh and the songman! Bob Fox (I'm a nerd and bought the programme) a folk singer comes on with a violinist and assorted brass every now and again with an accordion and sings sad war songs between scenes. They were beautiful and fit so well and I'll be buying the soundtrack.

Oh I almost forgot, there was this woman in my row, she arrived last so we all had to stand up to let her in. Me and my interval friend were in stitches on account of her. First of all, the first thing she did when she sat down was crack open a relentless, this is funny in itself. Then (apparently, thankfully I couldn't hear) she kept on saying 'oh I love this bit' (imagine in a brummie accent) 'oh this bits sooo sad' throughout the play to my new friend's nan. I hope she was her nan not her mum. If either of you happen to read this I'm sorry! Unlikely, I forgot to ask her name!

Anyway, at the end of the play which is the highlight of my week, the actors all came out (including the puppeteers without their horsey costumes) as is usual to take an individual bow. After the actors the two horses came out and reared up dramatically. The brummie woman stood up and started cheering, pumping her fist and going 'wheeeeeeyyy'.

'Must be that relentless,' I said.

What a strange reaction! I mean I know it was dramatic, but the Muppets was dramatic when Kermit and the gang nearly didn't raise the funds to save their theatre, but I didn't cheer for Fozzie Bear! I mean I really liked the horse too, don't get me wrong, but 'wheeey?' really?

My one complaint, and it explains my title. Is that the boy, Albert love the horse so much! And he properly loves it. I've never had a pet so maybe I don't really get the animal love thing. I'm sure I will when I have one day, but even so, he loved it so much. Let me ask you a question, would you go to war for your cat? or your goldfish? or your sea monkeys? If the answer is yes then I'll shush, but have a think, I mean actually run away and go to the trenches in WW1.

I still absolutely loved the play, start to finish, and I'd go see either one of them again tomorrow.

Except it's the FA Cup semi final and my team's playing and I'm excited and otherwise engaged!

Too Doggy for My Liking or 'David Tries the Posh Seats'

No reader, get your mind out of the gutter, I did nothing of the sort. Naughty.

I of course am referring to my trip to Kingston Odeon yesterday to go to see The Hunger Games. And my highly amusing opening joke refers to my only complaint about it. But I'll come to that! (see, you'll keep reading now!)

Anyway, I feel obliged to say that this is your first and only spoiler warning. I find it strange that I have to give this warning. Since the film is an adaptation of a book which has been out for a number of years, I'm of the firm belief that the spoiler-line has been past. It's like someone saying 'oh you ruined the end of Harry Potter for me'. Although saying that, there are films of books like Clockwork Orange and Bladerunner that I haven't read or seen (though I intend to) and I'd be a bit miffed if someone told me how they ended. I was very annoyed for instance when I was reading Lord of the Rings and my brother gave away the ending to me! It took me weeks to get through them!

Anyway I digress, alright one more spoiler warning. There, that'll do.

I was a fan of all 3 books before there was even a sniff of a film adaptation on the wind, and when I first heard about a well dressed Hollywood type buying the rights to it I must say my heart sank. This was before a certain change of heart I've had recently about book to film adaptations. I used to think that any film adaptation of a book was the worst possible idea and that books were far and away better. I did a module on book to film adaptations last semester though and my mind was changed somewhat for a few reasons. One, that so many films I loved were adapted from books, and two, a film can be as deep and involving as a book can, only in different ways. Maybe it's harder to read into, because (obviously) you're not actually reading into it. While books aren't obvious things and there can be layers of subtext, a film can be pretty much all subtext, and a small image in the corner of the screen, or a flicker in the actor's eye is just an equivalent of an author writing this down for you.

I'm going off on one here, but I was thinking about this as I munched on my salty popcorn in the highly worth it Premier Seats thanks to my Odeon card. I know what you're thinking! Salty popcorn, you mentalist! But I'm weird like that. I'd also choose cake and sweets over chocolate. And my favourite Lord of the Rings character is Sam not any of the cool fighty characters.

All this reminds me of a post I saw on Tumblr about ebooks, in that someone was perfectly happy for their films and music to be digitalised, but their books had to stay on paper because books have a soul. I do agree, a book is a person putting their heart and soul onto bits of paper for the whole world (hopefully) to read. But I think that films and music have just as much soul, it's just communicated in different ways. And this is why I buy vinyl records, and if I had money I'd buy a projector that played proper film reels. But it's also why I own a Kindle, and and Ipod and an inordinate number of DVDs. I love the soul, but I also love stuff and gadgets. I don't think the soul of something can be lost by changing it.

This is why, when I say down in row H, seat 17 (following my ticket and being a good boy) and switched my phone off, I didn't sit there with the amount of fear I usually would have about to view one of my favourite books being put on the big screen. I'm not saying there aren't bad adaptations of books. Sometimes things are made for the wrong reasons, money for instance. This though was different. The Hunger Games was just about perfect.

The casting was excellent, the mood was incredible, the shaky camerawork fitted beautifully and I was gripped from start to finish. Jennifer Lawrence was an amazing Katniss, and Josh Hutcherson an equally amazing Peeta. And Liam Hemsworth was a great Gale, mainly because (as in the books) I didn't like him. I was team Peeta from the first time the competition between the two was put into question. I thought Lenny Kravitz and Donald Sutherland shone in their roles despite their limited screen time (as Cinna and President Snow) Sutherland portrayed President Snow with all the slimy, cold, ruthlessness I pictured him with. It was almost as though someone had looked into my imagination and produced the Hunger Games as I had seen them. Even Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) who I didn't picture like that at all fit in my head. And his speech to Katniss at the end when he tries to protect her from the wrath of the Capitol I thought was one of the best bits of acting in the film. And I didn't think I'd be saying that about old Woody when I read he'd been cast.

In short, I cried, I laughed and I jumped as the Muttations jumped out at Katniss and Peeta. These are the three criteria that I think make the perfect film. I cried when Rue died for instance, and I laughed when Effie said 'THAT IS MAHOGANY', and when Peeta and Caesar Flickerman (Stanley Tucci) started sniffing each other.

In the Muttations I have my only complaint. As my title says, they were too doggy! The horrific thing about them in the books was that they actually had the eyes of the fallen tributes, so Katniss found herself looking into the eyes of a fierce, devilish monster with the eyes of Rue, the sweet little girl she covered in flowers. And maybe this was too horrible a thing to put in a 12A but I think kids can take a lot these days. It would have been tricky to do this I suppose, you don't really study the eyes of people to realise if a dog had them. Maybe I'm nitpicking, or maybe my astigmatism robbed me of this detail.

Apart from this I absolutely loved the film and cannot wait to see Catching Fire when it comes out.

And I would highly recommend Premier Seats, David 1, bum-numbing 0.

Oh Blogging Hell or 'David Tries a Scratch-card'

Hello!
A fine start to my blogging career I feel.

I've always wanted to try my hand at this blogging business, and silly excuses have always held me back. There is no actual excuse though in this day and age I feel to call yourself a writer and not publish your writing in the simplest of ways. Faced by this worrying realisation I decided I'd better get a move on with the whole thing. My biggest obstacle has always been the continual feeling of being stumped as to what to write about. I do write though, a theme of this blog will be my striving to get my first novel published. I spoke to a literary agent not two hours ago at my university and hold her business card in my hand as I blog to you! Well not in my hand, I'm typing, a renowned two handed activity, but it's nearby I assure you!

I have a vast array of things near to me, and it was these and other things which led me to my blog idea, my thing to write about. I realise that I buy an awful lot of things that you'd probably say I don't need being a student of minimal funds. However I continue to buy books, and films, and magazines, and new, unusual exciting foods to tickle my taste-buds. I figured why not write about this! And then move onto other things. I decided that if I could I'd try something new at least once a week and then record my findings in the hope that someone might be interested. Today for instance I bought a GQ magazine, not at all enticed by the sexy lady on the glossy front cover. And the other day I bought 'Photography for Dummies', my latest attempt to be jack of all trades at all things creative. So expect many moody, artsy-fartsy, yet ultimately quite rubbish photos of things around my lovely Twickenham student house in blogs to come!

Therefore my blog will be one of many forms, sometimes book reviews, sometimes film reviews, or food reviews as anyone who knows me will tell you I have a vast array of cookbooks in the hope that I'll absorb some kind of actual cookery talent and create some recipes of my own. Quickly, to encompass my blog's raison d'etre (that's right, I went French on you) ...probably could have worded that differently, but I come to my 'new thing' for today, or yesterday rather.

I digress, yesterday I found a scratch-card in one of my many magazine subscriptions. I'm sure as most magazine readers (and I'm in the 'aholic' category) do, on opening my shiny new Empire magazine proclaiming that I'll be intrigued by Prometheus, a rather cool, yet terrifying prequel to the Alien series, a scratch-card fell into my lap. Naturally I scratched it, and as always I found I'd won. Instead of having a moan as I'm sure my dad would do about scams, I decided to text the number I had been given to see if I'd won £1 million. What a coup for my first blog! A million smackers sitting in my back pocket to spend on all the new things I could dream of!

Alas I didn't win a million pounds, however I did win (allegedly - still skeptical yet ever-hopeful) a trip for two on a posh Thames cruise, and a trip to a similarly posh salon to get a free expensive haircut! Not perturbed by my lack of £1 million, I'm going to follow this up and use the code they gave me to see if I can blog from the Thames, preferably with some kind of supermodel looking girl at my side sipping champagne.

I managed to attract her because of my sexy free haircut.

So I shall keep you posted on my quest to get many nice things for minimal effort or money. Surely the task of any student.

I hope you read this and my following entries on here. Well I guess you have now being at this end of the post!

There, that was rather painless, hope to see you again on here soon.

DS :)