Sunday, 7 December 2008

Sweet Revenge

Alright, I’ll admit it.
I’m a revenge guy.

And no, I’m not the good kind of revenge guy who bides his time and waits for that perfect moment when said revenge is sweet and appropriate.
No, I’m the giddy revenge guy who tries to get his revenge as soon as physically possible and finds himself taking it way too far.

Now, let me start by explaining that I live in one of a series of one-man flats with walls about as think as a sheet of paper. Everything I say can be heard in the next room so clearly that I might as well have my phone conversations with my girlfriend IN my neighbour’s room. But of course it’s not a huge problem, because everyone who lives here understands the situation and is mostly very quite for that reason.

I haven’t touched my Rock Band drums since I have moved here. I don’t have my TV or my stereo too loud, and I talk in a quiet-ish tone.

Now, on Friday night at about 6, I found myself trying to finish a Script Report for university when there seemed to be some kind of really loud gathering moving down the corridor. A large number of echoing and building voices were moving towards my room.

“Please go past! Please go past! Please go past!” I thought.

And they did, straight past my door and into the room RIGHT next to mine. The next half and hour consisted of me trying to work but failing due to the large number of people in the next room talking loudly and breaking my concentration. Now, I don’t know weather you have noticed this, but the more people involved in a conversation, the louder every individual gets. It’s starts at regular volume but eventually someone talks over you, and you increase your volume to allow the others to hear you over them. This process repeats until your conversation isn’t so much talking anymore, more like shouting.

And with all the noise coming from over the wall, I was unable to concentrate.

“That’s ok.” I thought.
“I will do something else till they all move on to the club or where ever it is they are going next. I’ll distract myself with Xbox live and get back to work later on.”

And I did. I played on my Xbox, headset on, mostly unable to hear the noise from next-door. At about 11’ o clock I stopped. Partly because I had work to do, and partly because someone on Xbox live would stop whining like a girl because I killed him one to many times.

I took off my headphones to discover to my horror that not only were the voices still their, but they were louder, greater in number and they had started to play music.

As they got louder I got more desperate, by 1 O' clock I gave up my attempt at doing work and decided I would go to bed and do it in the morning. But sleep wouldn’t come; I was in a surreal situation, lying in bed my eyes tight shut but hearing a party as clearly as if I had sleepwalked into the middle of it and curled up on the floor.

By 2 O’clock the singing started, loud chants and cheers came from the room.
By 3 O’clock the banging started, the seemed to have found a brilliantly amusing game of bang on the walls.
By 4 O’clock they opened the window, and the noise carried and doubled.

Finally I became furious with rage I jumped out of my bed, a demented look on my face and attacked the wall dividing the rooms. I punched and banged repeatedly on the wall as loud and as hard as I could several times.
The party fell into silence, and the music stopped.

“Success!” I thought.

But then came a deafening, roaring wave of laughter followed by the music starting up once again and the singing recommenced.

“Damn It”

By 5 O’clock two people had left the room and moved to the hall. A couple, a drunk arguing couple whose voices carried right through the crack in the bottom of my door. I contemplated going out there brandishing a large meat knife and screaming about noise in an attempt to scare everyone into shutting up. But logic kicked in.
The party would be over soon… and the person who actually lived there would be trying to get some sleep.

Demented and enraged revenge would be MINE.

And sure enough, at quarter past five the music stopped. By half past the last stragglers had said their good byes and the door opened and shut for the last time. Leaving I presumed, the flats actual occupant, all partied out and looking for a good sleep.

Well tough fucking luck, love.

I felt a sudden urge to play Rock Band, and the drums came out. But the loud rhythmic banging from the little fisher price style drum kit didn’t make nearly enough noise. I turned to my stereo and put on some heavy metal and turned it all the way up to 11, my speakers up against the wall, the wall I sheared with the enemy.

By 6 I had decided that throwing a bouncy ball at the wall between the rooms repeatedly in time to the death metal now raging from speakers was a good idea. “That would be a decent way to keep that fucker awake” I thought.

By 7 I was moshing out, jumping up and down, banging on the wall and shouting.

By 8 it was time for Knock-a-door-run.
I giddily knocked on her door and ran back into my room, unable to hear her answer over my loud music.

This went on, and on and on.

At 11 O’clock I was tired, I had done no work, and I was hungry. So I sat down to eat some cereal happy in the knowledge that despite not getting anything done, I had gotten sweet revenge.

I heard footsteps moving down the corridor, they stopped outside my neighbours door. But instead of knocking… the stranger inserted a key.

“No way…”

I jumped up and swung open my door to find my neighbour outside her room, trying to get in.
She hadn’t been there. She must of left with everyone else at 5:30.
It was all for nothing, my revenge had never been had.
My heart sank.

She noticed me and actually apologised for all the noise the night before, she said she would never let it happen again.

I felt even worse.

Tragically, I realised that in my moment of insanity I had really gone to far, I had overreacted. It was just a party after all; we have all done it. And it’s not like she was intentionally trying to keep me awake, and its not as if it has ever happened before or will happen again anytime soon.

I feel like I really learned something, I guess I’ll be thinking twice before taking revenge in future…

Unless it’s that bitch again.
Then she’s going down.

Anywho, thanks for reading.

-- Dan

Saturday, 29 November 2008

Funny or Offensive?

A friend of mine who shall remain nameless for legal reasons (Frankie Buttons) recently updated her blog, which I won't name here so not to redirect my traffic. (http://foxeyfrankie.livejournal.com/).

Who am I kidding? Frankie IS my traffic.

Anywho, she recently posted about how she sometimes make's Joke's on subjects that could potentially offend people and her concerns that she does this quite alot. (http://foxeyfrankie.livejournal.com/161255.html)
She wanted people to respond with their opinion's on the subject and being honest with you even though I wanted to respond I refuse to sign up to "livejournal" on principle (And out of laziness). So instead I'm just gonna use my blog, because I'm already registered here.

Before I respond to her points, I must admit that in recent years I have noticed that the line dictating what is and isn't in good taste has become more and more blurred. To the point now where I don't believe for a second that a comedian like Frankie Boyle would of been popular 10 years ago. The climate has changed as people have adjusted to the idea that ANYTHING can be funny in the right context. That is mostly due to how desensitized we as a people have become to the horrors and terrible things that happen in life.

Anywho, getting to my response, I don't think that anyone should feel constrained when it comes to the content of their Jokes. I mean, a joke is just that. The purpose of it being to make someone smile or laugh. It does of course depend on a few things things, like the way you construct the joke and what context you put it in. But as long as you are mindful of those things, then say what the hell you want. Anyone who is offended is clearly an ignorant cunt who doesn't have a sense of humour, and people like that deserver to be nothing but offended.

Being honest though, I don't know why I'm am bothering responding to Frankie’s post when the perfect response already exists in the form of a George Carlin stand up segment. For those of you who don't know George Carlin, you should feel terribly ashamed of yourselves right now. So hang your heads in shame, finish reading this blog and go look him up, buy his DVD's and go visit the mans grave to apologise.

Here is his thoughts on the subject. (And anyone who doesn't want to read it, you can listen to it here: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=3av_qRR_DWc)

"Ohhh, some people don't like you to talk like that. Ohh, some people like to shut you up for saying those things. You know that. Lots of people. Lots of groups in this country want to tell you how to talk. Tell you what you can't talk about. Well, sometimes they'll say, well you can talk about something but you can't joke about it. Say you can't joke about something because it's not funny. Comedians run into that shit all the time. Like rape. They'll say, "you can't joke about rape. Rape's not funny." I say, "fuck you, I think it's hilarious. How do you like that?" I can prove to you that rape is funny. Picture Porky Pig raping Elmer Fudd. See, hey why do you think they call him "Porky," eh? I know what you're going to say. "Elmer was asking for it. Elmer was coming on to Porky. Porky couldn't help himself, he got a hard- on, he got horney, he lost control, he went out of his mind." A lot of men talk like that. A lot of men think that way. They think it's the woman's fault. They like to blame the rape on the woman. Say, "she had it coming, she was wearing a short skirt." These guys think women ought to go to prison for being cock teasers. Don't seem fair to me. Don't seem right, but you can joke about it. I believe you can joke about anything. It all depends on how you construct the joke. What the exaggeration is. What the exaggeration is. Because every joke needs one exaggeration. Every joke needs one thing to be way out of proportion. Give you an example. Did you ever see a news story like this in the paper? Every now and then you run into a story, says, "some guy broke into a house, stole a lot of things, and while he was in there, he raped an 81 year old woman." And I'm thinking to myself, "WHY??? What the fuck kind of a social life does this guy have?" I want to say, "why did you do that?" "Well she was coming on to me. We were dancing and I got horney. Hey, she was asking for it, she had on a tight bathrobe." I'll say, "Jesus Christ, be a little fucking selective next time will you?"

He pretty much nails my opinions of the subject in that piece. R.I.P. George, your insights into life will be missed.

What really annoys me though, are people who get offended but quite simply blow it out of proportion and take it too far. Take this news story for example.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article4732048.ece

For those of you who didn't read it, its about a comedian being sent to jail for 5 years for making fun of the pope.
5 Years for a fucking Joke?
There are muggers, paedophiles and all sorts out there.
And they wanna waste jail space for that?
Priorities people.

Anywho, enough ranting, I hope this is a satisfactory response Frankie.
And before I go, I just wanna make one last point.

Anyone else find it suspicious and annoying that Wally (Waldo to you Americans) always seems to end up in a field full of people who are coincidentally dressed in the exact same stripped outfit as him.

Sneaky cheating bastard.

Thanks for reading everyone!

-- Dan


PS: I promised myself I wouldn't annoy you guys with a PS this week so I'm not doing one.

Shit.

Thursday, 27 November 2008

The Directionless Blog (AKA: I wish I hadn't posted this)

Well, since it's been a while, I wanted to write a new blog for you lovely people, but simply couldn't think of anything to write about, so here it is, a directionless blog. Just some thoughts and such.

Actually, while I'm on the subject, sorry its been so long. Had an absolute beast of an essay kicking my ass the last few weeks. Which I handed in today thank you very much. It's quite satisfying to know that no matter how rubbish it is, its out of my hands at this point. Which I admit is quite a backwards way to look at it, but my mind thinks what it thinks.

Any TV I watched this week seemed to be horror in genre. Not intentionally, that's just how it worked out. Of course living alone and watching loads of Horror isn't recommended because every damn noise I hear somehow suggests the start of a zombie apocalypse in my mind. Of course, the sound of the drunken pillocks wandering past my window and shouting soon brings me back to earth... shame really. Those twats would be much more tolerable as zombies, and quieter.

Speaking of Zombies, finally caught up on Dead Set this week. How brilliant is that show? In fact, even if it was dreadful I would tell you its great just because it includes a Zombie Davina McCall. And that's worth its weight in gold. Also, quite liked all the Jabs at Big Brother and all the thick people who watch it. Really fantastic television. Anyone thinking about watching it and not wanting to be spoiled should not read the next paragraph. You have been warned. Anyone who hasn't watched it... why not? Go buy the DVD you fool.


Really enjoyed the build up to the Zombie invasion, because it was set somewhere that exists during something I have seen myself before, that somehow made it a little more real. Also, very satisfying to see that bastard of a producer get torn limb from limb in the last episode. Odd thing is, everyone kept telling me that the ending was awful. So many people in fact, that I contemplated not wasting my time watching it since so many people seemed to dislike it. Fellow Scriptwriters as well. People who's opinion I trust. But seriously? It was a perfectly adequate ending. Come on people, its a Zombie piece. And everyone knows there are only three ways to end a Zombie piece. The protagonist either survives till the world is saved, finds a way to save the world themselves or the Zombies kill/turn EVERYONE and the world is left defeated and Zombie-tastic. Dead Set went with the latter, either killing or turning every character into a zombie. Which works perfectly well. How else could it have ended?


Actually, speaking of Big Brother, I had a brilliant idea about that earlier in the week.
What if, to fuck with the housemates heads, when eviction night rolls around instead of the doors opening and the housemates hearing either cheering or booing for the evicted housemate. What if they heard nothing but silence. Followed by the sound of a single gunshot. Taking notes channel four? I hope so, because nothing short of that's gonna bring back your audience.

Anywho, saw a brilliant license plate the other day. It read "P1MP".
As if that wasn't funny enough, the guy in the car it belonged too was at least 70.

That was pretty weird.

Well, safe to say I'm never doing this again.
What was I thinking? I have way too many stupid pointless things to say to indulge myself with a blog with no direction. You lovely people don't deserve to be subjected to such pointless garbage.

Thanks for reading anyway.

-- Dan "Never Shutting Up" Doolan


PS -
As always, send thoughts to: dan@areyoustilltalking.net
And update requests to: updates@areyoustilltalking.net

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

3:54am

It's 3:54am.
I'm watching my clock mockingly count every minute as I unsuccessfully attempt to fall asleep.
Well, not anymore. Now I'm writing this blog, so I am obviously not lying in my bed watching the clock and trying to get to sleep anymore.
Now I have given in to the harsh fact that I'm not getting to sleep anytime soon.

I'll be honest, I'm a thinker.
Alot of people think that just because I'm a big talker... that that somehow means I'm not a big thinker. I think its connected to the misconception that quiet people are quiet because they are thinkers, they don't externalise thoughts because its all going on in their heads, which must mean that people who talk alot don't have alot in their heads because they externalise all thoughts. But being honest, they are not necessarily mutually exclusive. I talk as much as I do because I think what I perceive to be an abnormal amount. I have to let as much out of my head as possible otherwise I think I would explode or meltdown or something. And as great as it is to know that I always have something to say. It would be nice to switch it off once in a while.

Especially when meeting new people and all they get from me as a first impression is that I'm just a dude who talks more than should be humanly possible. But I like to live under the illusion that even though I talk alot, there is usually a substance to my ramblings. I'm not just talking for the sake of it... but, an illusion is just that. The fact is I probably do just ramble, I appear to have very little control over it.
It's also a problem because it makes sleeping a more difficult task than it should be. On a GOOD night will take me a minimum of 1 hour to fall asleep. On a bad night I don't sleep at all. Sometimes its because they are holding illegal dog fights behind my crack-den of a building and the noise is simply too much. Or sometimes it's my overactive mind again, torturing me into yet another sleepless night.

I think it's the silence. It opens the flood gates. In the day I can let things out in little bursts through talking. I'm also distracted, and that holds me back, keeps my mind at bay to some extent. But at night when all distractions are gone and I'm lying in a dark and quiet room, my mind just goes into overdrive. Suddenly every thought is so potent and vivid that I feel as though I can't really fathom the detail of my own thoughts, but at the same time it all moves through my head so fast that I can't really latch on to any particular thoughts and keep it. It's almost like their is more information running through my head than my head can read at once, I get flashes of all kinds, portions of thoughts that slip away like a half remembered dreams. My overactive mind is an evil thing when it wants to be.

Is it insomnia? Or am I just an idiot who can't keep his mind in check?

God I hope it's not the last one, because if that's the case "not sleeping" is the last stop before my train hits crazy town. Or as my friend Scott once dubbed it "The Land of the Shoelace Impaired".

I doubt it's either. I over think.

I guess that’s just me.

Thanks for reading.

-- Dan

Wednesday, 22 October 2008

The Art of Procrastination.

I have so much too do.
So so so much to do.

I have two 100 page scripts to read, research for a a TV series concept to do, a series bible for said series to write, two 60 page scripts to write, two 2000 word essays and two 2000 word script analysis to finish. But every time I sit down to do any of these my mind goes blank, I have had some ideas, but every time I sit down with the intention of forcing myself into doing any of this work I suddenly remember all sorts of more important things I haven't done yet.

The stuff I'm doing instead IS really important. Honestly.

For example, today I had to make sure I bought those socks I saw the other day but didn't buy at the time because they looked quite thick, but I'm now certain that I need them because you know, winter is coming. You never know, they might be sold out tomorrow. They are mighty fine socks and they are pretty cheap after all. How often do you get a chance to buy nice AND cheap socks? Oh come on, priorities people.

Of course, I also had to keep on top of those dishes. Sure, I didn't feel the need to keep on top of them last month when I had nothing too do and let them fester and pile up until they were growing their own food I found myself eating my cereal from a pint glass I rinsed, but now I have all that work to do they really do need to be done. I can't work in a dirty room can I? What if I smell them or something?

Oh, and a haircut. I definitely couldn't wait for a haircut. My hair was getting in the way of my forehead, which for all you human anatomy experts out there, is near my eyes. And I definitely can't work with hair (nearly) in my eyes. That's the kind of reckless health hazard that gets people like me, not getting any work done. And my work is important.

And I can't start working without checking my email. What if my tutor emails me telling me I don't need to do all that work after all and I miss it? What a waste of time that would be! Also, while I'm already on the internet it only makes sense to check a few other things as well, while I'm there. Surly you understand that it's just time efficient to check things like my message boards, facebook, news websites, digg, my bank account and this sites traffic reports while I'm there.

And food, no one can deny that I needed to eat. Of course I did choose to put together a three course meal over the microwave meal. Which I guess did waste a a couple of minutes.

So with all that out of the way I guess I can finally get down to work, right?

Oh wait. I haven't updated my blog in a couple of days and that's pretty important, so I should do that too.

Ok. Done.

NOW it's time to maybe get some work done.
Then again... I haven't watched any TV in a while....

Thanks for reading.
-- Dan (dan@areyoustilltalking.net.)


PS - Some people have mentioned that now my blog had moved to its own website that it might be hard to keep track of when I update it. So I have set up an update system. If you would like to recive email updates (and no spam, not from me anyway.) when I update my blog then please send an email from the address you wish to recive the updates at to the following addresss.

updates@areyoustilltalking.net

After that, everytime I update the blog you will recive an email informing you, and this service can be cancelled if you wish, in the same way you signed up.

So as always any thoughts on this or any of my musings on this blog should be sent to.
dan@areyoustilltalking.net
Thanks for reading... again.

Friday, 17 October 2008

Back On That Bournemouth Shaped Horse.

Well, some of you might remember an angry little blog I posted about a year ago regarding the status of me and that whole not going back to uni thing. That was the last blog I posted (Forgetting the articles I posted.) Since then, alot of you haven't seen or heard from me.

Now, I could waste this blog telling you about the last year of my life and bringing you up to date, but unfortunately not only is it not interesting, but its something I really would rather forget. All you need to know is that my life is back where it was last year. Back in Bournemouth and Uni continuing where I left off. And what better way to establish that things are back to the norm than bringing my reader-less blog back?

So, earlier this week I logged onto my Myspace for the first time in 12 months with the intention of posting a new blog, only to discover that apparently there was some kind of nuclear assault on Myspace while I was gone and it had to be evacuated leaving only the Ad posting robots to finally inherit it. Which is my roundabout way of saying that people don't actually use it anymore, migrating to the apparently much cooler "Facebook". Sorry, I guess I missed the "New Cool Trend" memo bout that one. Being honest I am yet to be convinced of Facebooks greatness, but with social networking world you have no choice but to go where the people are. It's either that or you try to get conversation out of the Ringtone Advert on your myspace comments.

So I log in to the Facebook account I set up 2 years prior with the intention of posting my first blog in 52 weeks. What? Facebook doesn't have a blog system? What the hell? I was willing to accept the six hundred thousand pointless applications I was getting a day. But no blog? What idiot thought this was better than Myspace? Anywho, as I have already established I don't really have a choice in the matter. So my Myspace account goes unchecked now, and I find myself trying to check my Facebook whenever I get time. But what the hell, where do I post my blog now? Wait! I know, I could actually use my website! www.areyoustilltalking.moonfruit.com.

What? That's been shut down due to me not paying the server bill? oops.

Well, desperate times, eh? So, I have started another website that will solely focus on my blog. Because as I discovered with my last website, besides forgetting to pay for it, updating it also frequently slipped my mind. So a simple blog was clearly the answer.

And here it is.

Nice isn't it?

Came with a fantastic .net address (Which was cheap and is paid for yearly instead of monthly which is miles easier to remember.) and a cool new E-mail address.

dan@areyoustilltalking.net

So, here I am. Back on the Bournemouth shaped horse. Hopeing and praying that I don't get bucked off again.
Wish me luck and expect more (and better) blogs from me in the future.

-- Dan

Thursday, 16 October 2008

Testing Testing....

Testing, Testing, one, two.
This thing on?

Good.

Erm, this particular post isn't really a blog. More of a test post.
Don't worry, I almost definitely might probably get round to posting a real blog soon.
So come back then.

-- Dan