Burn After Reading

With the Coen Brothers at the helm, and an amazing cast, this movie seemed like it would be a fantastic piece of film.  Yet, something went wrong.  Now sure, such high expectations may've caused me to assume it would be really really good... but even without all the weight that both the Coen Brothers and the cast hold, it just didn't do it for me.  The plot was all over the place, but didn't really seem to flow; and it wasn't one of those "the plot is meant to be crazy" sort of things, or a "digressive plot" movie: the plot was just weak or non-existent.  On top of that, there wern't any really memorable scenes, lines, or jokes.  Sure I laughed throughout the film, but that is to be expected from any comedy; yet my laughing wasn't a side spliting, red faced, tears in the eyes laughter: it was a chuckling or "that was funny" sort of laughter.  Perhaps the confusing ramblings of this unstructured review will somehow represent the confused ramblings of this "dark comedy."  And don't think that if you read this a few times you will really "figure it out".  The same can be said of this movie (though I only saw it once... that was enough for me).  If you really had high hopes for this movie, tone them down a bit before you see this film.  Or, you could stay home and re-watch The Big Lebowski.  Of course, that's just my opinion... and I'm not Dennis Miller.

September

I must say that I really enjoy these new Microsoft commercials with Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Gates.  My Dad told me about the one in the shoestore, and I've seen it a few times.  Then tonight I saw two new ones while watching [adult swim] where the duo stays with a random family.  I dunno what these commercials will lead to, but whatever it is, I'm excited.  And I think they are way better than the "I'm a Mac, I'm a PC" commercials (though ironically I am writing this on a Mac).

I have been working on stories recently, and am hoping to start submitting one story to a magazine every two weeks.  I do not plan on publishing stories here: I had been working on an old story that I wanted to publish on this blog, but then I decided it had potential (and the title happens to be "Potential") and I submitted it a few days ago.  However, if there is a story that just can't seem to please any editors, but that I feel really strongly about, I may put such a story up here; or any sort of flash fiction, like the two stories I have already put up here ("Fifty Two" and "Sodium and Tempura").

I have tried to put more structure into these blog posts over the past few months, but I have found it has led to less postings, since I must structure them before submitting.  I feel that I may move away from this, and turn this blog into more personal ramblings, such as this current post which I am writing while half awake at 2 AM.  I spend a lot of time structuring and editing stories to try and perfect them, so why do that as well here?  Instead, I hope that this new format, based on my own format, may lead to an increase in posts, and them possibly an increase in fanbase.  But either way, the main person to please is me, since I am, afterall, the one writing all this.  So, good night, and good day.

- Liam Connolly

Book Review: Amanda Stern - The Long Haul

The Long Haul by Amanda Stern is the first of several novels I will be reading this semester for my Contemporary Fiction Craft class at Georgia State.  This is Stern's first novel, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.  The story concerns two main characters: the unnamed narrator, and her boyfriend, called "The Alcoholic."  Throughout the novel, both characters struggle with their addictions: he to alcohol (obviously) and she to him.  The novel is made up of a series of chapters that could be seen as short stories on their own, similar to Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting (which I happen to have reviewed months before).  Each chapter jumps in time to a different point in the couples relationship.  I found much of the dialogue in the story to be incredibly realistic and modern: some of the discussions could be heard on campus, word for word.  Also, the narrator's love-and-hate relationship with her boyfriend is done beautifully, and goes back and forth just as much as any young adult's feelings do.  At only 142 pages, this is a quick read, and highly recommended.

Movie Review: Pineapple Express

Last night I saw Pineapple Express at the Starlight Drive-In theatre in East Atlanta.  This was my second time seeing the film, and I enjoyed it just as much as the first time.  I have been a big fan of this new group of films that revolve around producer Judd Apatow, and this movie was yet another winner.  I didn't enjoy it as much as some of his others, such as Superbad or 40 Year Old Virgin, but there were still many many hysterical scenes throughout.  I also found it interesting because this movie seemed to be more ridiculous and less realistic than some of the other movies.  Also, it took a classic "stoner movie" and added in elements of action films and even karate to make an all out entertaining picture.  I would recommend this film to anyone who is a fan of the Apatow era, or anyone just looking for pure entertainment.

Movie Review: Wall-E

I have seen previews for this movie for the past couple years, and never really had much interest in seeing it. However, a number of friends said that it was a fantastic movie, and given the fact that Pixar has impressed me thus far as well, I decided to check it out. The beginning was a little slow for me, though still entertaining. My friend Chandler had told me that it is just like an old silent movie, which was interesting: though since I am used to modern movies with lots of dialogue, it was a little tough to get into. But once the story started to unfold, I thoroughly enjoyed the film, which represents a shocking and yet fairly believable futuristic dystopia. Also, as I was informed by friends, Pixar did new things in this movie that have never been done with digital animation before, such as making shots have in-focus and out-of-focus elements, to represent a real camera. While it is a children’s film, it is very entertaining for adults aswell, and I was very satisfied by the end of the movie. This is definitely the best movie I’ve seen in theaters this summer – though I have a feeling The Dark Knight will top them all.

Hancock and Dujardin

I saw a midnight showing of the new summer superhero movie “Hancock” a few nights ago. The previews made this movie look to be very promising: Will Smith as a superhero who drinks way too much and causes havoc because of it. I was also excited about this movie because of the originality of the idea. The first half of the film lived up to the hope, and featured a great mix of action, humor, and dramatic scenes. However, the second half of the film was a complete failure. While I won’t give away any of the plot, I felt like the second half of the story was poorly written, and didn’t do the movie as a whole any justice. All in all, this movie is a tough call since it is half great and half terrible.

I also recently finished reading “We’ll To the Woods No More” by Edouard Dujardin. This is an obscure French novel originally published in 1888, and according to the introduction it didn’t receive much acclaim and became a “forgotten novel.” However, it did receive recognition a few decades later when James Joyce discovered the novel and said that it inspired him to develop and perfect his stream-of-consciousness technique. As a fanatical Joycean, I had to check it out to see how it relates to Joyce’s work. This is definitely as stylistic read, since the story overall isn’t too exciting (though it isn’t necessarily boring). The work is written from first person, in the present tense, and follows the internal thoughts of a young man walking around Paris one evening as he waits for and ponders about the woman he loves. It is not difficult to follow (especially if compared to the stream-of-consciousness masters that came decades later) and can be quite interesting and a bit humorous at times. Now, as I said before, it is a stylistic read, and I found as I read along I was wondering if the story would ever reach a “climax,” or if it would just drift from here to there aimlessly. However, when I got to the final chapter, I was really blown away, as many of the seemingly unimportant events suddenly have a lot of relevance. Also, since it is told completely from the narrator’s mind, the reader can figure stuff out which the narrator hasn’t figured out yet (and perhaps never will). Also, the book is quite short, being less than 150 pages. I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in modernist and stream-of-consciousness writing, especially fellow Joyceans; or, anyone interested in French love stories; or, fuck it: anyone that wants to read.

That is all for now. I am hoping to put a story up soon (though I have been saying that for a while and still have not followed through). Have a happy Fourth!
- Liam

You Don't Mess With the Zohan... Because He Makes a Bad Film

Movie Review: “You Don’t Mess With the Zohan.”

I saw this movie about a week ago, and was not impressed. While the premise of an ex-Israeli super soldier who becomes a hairdresser sounded very bizarre, I’m a huge fan of Adam Sandler, and consider him to be one of the top comedy actors from the 90’s generation (probably second only to Jim Carrey). However, even with Sandler at the helm ― in both the fact that he was the lead actor and also that his production company Happy Madison released the film ― the movie was tough to get through. In fact, much of what was funny about the film was just how bad it really was. It was filled with stereotypical jokes about Israelis and Arabs, and tried to turn a two-thousand year conflict into a comedy premise. Now I’m all for comedy, but I don’t think the Israeli-Arab wars are the right thing to joke about. On a plus side, there were some humorous cameos, including: Chris Rock, Henry Winkler, Kevin James, John McEnroe, Mariah Carey and George Takei; also, Michael Buffer, the guy who says “lets get ready to rumble!” before boxing or wresting main events, had a small but significant role, and Dave Matthews plays a racist hillbilly. I’d wait until this gets released on DVD; or better yet, wait for it to be shown on television.

Journeys to Macondo, Baltimore, and Rome

I have finished reading “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” the magnum opus of Nobel Prize winning Columbian Author Gabriel García Márquez. The novel follows the history of Macondo, a fictional town, through seven generations of one family. It incorporates many elements of magical realism, a style which Márquez is quite famous for, that allows ghosts to appear and magic carpets to fly in an otherwise “normal” world. It is written ― as Márquez himself discusses in an interview at the back of the book ― in a style that sounds like family members sitting around the dinner table reminiscing about old tales. The makes it a fairly fun and interesting read, though I found that at times it did seem to drag on a bit and I wasn’t sure where the story was leading. But all in all, a very worthwhile read, as well as an interesting way to expose oneself to Columbian culture.

I have been watching two HBO series on DVD the past few days, both of which are highly entertaining and extremely addictive. (I may have to check myself into a clinic once the DVDs run out). The first is The Wire, which was recommended to me by my friend Chandler (who is returning the favor since I got him hooked on LOST). The show is set in Baltimore, and follows the dark world of narcotics from many different points of view, similar to the movie Traffic. It is very interesting to see a plethora of characters, each with very interesting and unique stories, that range from high ranking police chiefs and judges all the way down to drug addicted bums and street thugs. I started watching the show yesterday, and have already watched six episodes (and most likely will watch a few more before the day is up).

Secondly, I have been re-watching the mini-series Rome. I watched both seasons when they first came out a few years ago and highly enjoyed it. The second time around, I have got my roommate, Steph, into it as well. The first season takes place from Caesar’s conquest of Gaul to his assassination. There is a whole range of characters, and each of them is interconnected in unusual and fantastic ways which keeps the viewer on their toes the whole time. Also, seeing as it is HBO, there are numerous scenes of heavy violence or erotic sex, many of which do not seem to have much relevance besides pure entertainment. Nevertheless, the show is a fantastic representation of Rome as it was during the birth of the empire, and remains fairly accurate on a historical end (though, as with any historical show, a lot of people complain about some of the inaccuracies: but my love of Roman history runs very deep, and I find it quite enjoyable).

Finally, I have been working on a few short stories, and I am hoping to put one up here within the next few days, since it has been a while since I put a story on my blog. I also hope to submit a story or two to magazines in hopes of publication.

- Liam

Summer Poetry Discussion, The NBA and two Sonnets

I have never really considered myself to be much of a poet (though I did like the poem I published a few posts ago: L’expulsion du Norman des Farm Lands de Georgia). [As an added side note, I have noticed I’ve begun to use parenthesis and what not in my recent blog posts… this is something I am trying to get rid of in my creative writing, because classmates noticed I did it excessively in one of my workshop stories during Fall ’07 {in fact, I even had a double aside, as I am doing right now}]. However, I would like to become more of a poet, and have thought about taking the Intro to Poetry Writing class at Georgia State in the Spring (my final semester) if I can. I recently realized, while laying poolside, that I do not know much about poetry or the history of poetry. Since then, I have tried to find a book about the history of poetry, but have been unsuccessful. I was never a fan of poetry in my younger days because I never really understood it. Even now, I much prefer prose to poetry. I feel that much of modern poetry seems to be jibberish: people feel that they can write whatever they want in stanza form, and they call it “poetry.” Maybe that is why I have strayed away from writing poems for the most part. Now, I am not bashing poetry as an art form by any means; many writers I love are poets, including T.S. Eliot (my favorite poet), Charles Bukowski, Shakespeare ― even Joyce and Proust, my two favorite writers, both released some poems; I am also a big fan of epic narrative poems (my favorite being Dante’s Divine Comedy). What I am saying is that I wish I understood more about its history and development: thus, I have yet another project for this summer.

I was going to lead into some poems of my own, but I will postpone that to write about an article I just read on Yahoo News (one of my main sources of news, along with Wikipedia, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert ― the regular news is just two depressing, and I guess I don’t care enough; also, I rely on word-of-mouth to find out about “important stuff) about the NBA. Apparently, an ex-referee came forward and claimed that many games, including the finals, are rigged by referees. Examples include making bogus fouls to change the games outcome, or not fouling star players to keep them in the game and fans in their seats. Now, I am not much of a sports person at all: in fact, the only event I truly enjoy watching is NCAA’s March Madness, and the Olympics when they come around; I don’t even watch hockey anymore, like all loyal Canadians should (but please don’t report me, as I would like to keep my citizenship… haha). However, such a thing as rigging sports games so that they always go to seven game series in the finals or anything like that just seems like total bullshit. It’s already bad enough that many players are drafted right out of high school (and I’ve even read some are getting drafted earlier than this!) and only managed to pass their classes because of their academic abilities ― and yes, things like that have always bugged me, seeing that I have very little athletic talent and much prefer the arts; in fact, that was one of the reasons I despised Roy Barnes as the Governor of Georgia and was very happy he wasn’t re-elected (though I will say that my interest in politics is about equal with sports). It is examples like these that make me so uninterested in sports, along with the various players’ strikes that seem to come up every couple years. Apparently a seven figure salary just isn’t good enough for doing something most people (myself not included) dream of doing.

But, enough ranting about uninteresting subjects: back to poetry! Last summer I took an overview class on British Literature, which of course led to the discussion of poems, and more specifically sonnets; two of the most prominent sonneteers we studied were Shakespeare and Petrarch. Because of this, I was inspired to write a few sonnets of my own, which I thought were quite good at the time. I re-read them tonight, and chose the one that I thought was the best, and also most relevant, and then decided to revise it in order to see how my writing has changed over a year. Now, I will publish the two sonnets, and show the comparison. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

The Summer Sonnet
June 30, 2007

In these days of summer, I’m mourning
The cooler temperatures of days old.
Because when I wake up in the morning,
My body cries out for a room that’s cold.

Not to say I dislike summer days;
On the contrary: I enjoy them quite.
My mind flashes to times of leaves and hays,
When outside weather didn’t cause a fight.

The cool weather opens my mind quite wide,
And nature it right at my fingertip.
But now I must do all my work inside
To avoid the sweat that makes it slip.

These summer months are fun and free indeed,
But cooler times are when I feel I need.

Summer Sonnet ‘08
June 10, 2008

Within these days of humid heat I mourn
The cooler temps of days not long ago.
‘Cause when I wake up in my bed at morn,
I wish the sticky air would just let go.

I would not say I dislike summer days;
To contrast, they bring me much happiness.
But yet I dream of times of leaves and hay
When the weather was not in such a mess.

The thought of cool weather cheers up my mind
And makes the hot weather seem bearable;
But yet I know that these thoughts will soon find
The place where good thoughts become terrible.

And so I will return to summer heat
With sweat pouring the way down to my feet.

Summer Heat with James Gatz, Marcel Proust, Punk Rock and More.

As seen from my title, I recently finished “The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I won’t even attempt to do a book review, since I’m sure most everyone has already read it in high school. I remember when I read it in high school (or at least pretended to) I was not a fan of the book. Because of that, I found it annoying that it ranked #2 on Modern Library’s Top 100 Books of the Twentieth Century, ranking inbetween two books by my personal favorite, Mr. James Joyce (the list can be viewed here http://www.randomhouse.com/modernlibrary/100bestnovels.html). However, upon reading it the past few days, I really enjoyed it, and was glad I gave it another shot. I think it also helped that I just finished a Maymester class on American Literature 1914-1945. However, that being said… I still don’t know if I’d say it is #2. I don’t think I would rank it in my top ten books I’ve read. But, if you haven’t read it, then you should… after you read “Ulysses” by James Joyce, that is.

I also recently finished the second volume of Marcel Proust’s novel: “In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower” (also translated as “Within a Budding Grove”). In this volume, Proust deals with the theme of young love over the course of 500+ pages, in both Paris and the vacation resort of Balbec. It introduces many characters that (according to the introduction) will become very important during latter parts of the novel; each time he introduces a major character, he does it in a very clever and sometimes unusual way. Another theme which is common in many modernist works and also really stood out for me is the idea of a build up to something great that doesn’t get resolved and turns out to be a let down. Proust introduces this theme early on when the narrator gets a chance to go to the opera to see his favorite opera star. The narrator is extremely excited (much like modern rock fans would be excited to see their favorite band for the first time) and cannot wait to see her sing; but when he finally gets to see her, he is thoroughly disappointed by her performance and does not see what all the fuss is about. This theme continues to reoccur throughout this volume, and I have a feeling it will show up in later volumes as well.

Speaking of music, I went to see Los Angeles punk band X along with the Detroit Cobras a couple weeks ago at the Variety Playhouse in Little Five Points. My friend Alix, a long time friend who I have only recently started hanging out with again, told me about the show, and we went together. I was really excited to see the Detroit Cobras as an opening act, because I have been a fan of theirs for years. They are a Garage Rock Revival band from (as the name implies) Detroit. I found out that they do not write any of their own material; instead, they take old songs from the 60’s and turn them into rock n’ roll/ punk versions. They were fantastic. Then came X. While they have been around since the mid 70’s and have obviously lived a hard life, they put on a very powerful show that blew me away. They played song after song that got the audience to go crazy and sing and dance along. Also, I was somewhat surprised at the fact that myself (being 21) and Alix (being 20) were on the younger end of the audience; in fact, at one point someone even said to us “you look a little young to be X fans.” Sure, it makes sense that people who liked them in the 70’s would still show up now, but I was moreso surprised that there were not a lot of newer, younger fans. If the new generations cannot listen to good old school punk rock, I feel that society is doomed (hahaha).

The above section of this post brings what I feel a change in my blog writing; and by change, I mean an expansion. While I had intended this blog to focus on literature and writing, I realized that I should not limit myself. If I expand it to music, movies, food, and whatever else, maybe I can get more posts out, and also build up a bigger fan base. This change was largely inspired by my Dad, Paul Connolly, who recently decided to start his own blog (which can be seen here: http://paulsnetwork.blogspot.com). So hopefully this change makes this blog more interesting and readable.

Finally (for now) I am excited to say that I will be spending a week and a half in Paris at the end of July and early August. I don’t have much to say about it now, but I will definitely make sure to blog that extensively once the time comes. Also, as far as summer trips go, I will be in Iowa for the University of Iowa’s Writing Workshop the weekend of June 20th. I am very excited about this as well, and will write on that when the time comes.

That is it for now. Until next time.

L’expulsion du Norman des Farm Lands de Georgia

A Poem

“Invertebraes n’ont pas spines
Parce que ils sont sans épines,”
Says Wilhelm the Norman.
“Et ils ne parlent pas correct.”

“The cunt of a fish
Prolly don’t taste the same
As the cunt of a femine,”
Says the peach farmer
Who still dares to eat
The fruits of his labors.

“Qui mange cunt,
Quand felines sont available facilement?”
Répond le man
Avec le plan
And a belly fulla wine.

I saw that Norman once before,
Smokin’ a fag
(Lung cancer or homophobia:
Which is it, man?)
Sans the attitude
With a wrinkled chemise and cravat.

“Shave the beard, you cunt!”
Yells the peach man,
“And stop being so fuckin’ explicit!
Why don’t you grow some balls,
And enjoy some high culture?”

Five Stories in May

I have recently been working on three new stories, and I’m also going to work on revisions for two older ones, which brings the total to five. But now I am unsure where I should send these stories. I haven’t put up a story on this blog in months; however, if I publish a story here, then I cannot send it to a magazine for publication. So maybe I will send those stories out upon completion, and then work on lesser projects for the blog; or I will publish older stories, maybe with some revision.

I have been trying out different styles, to try and see which ones really fit me the best. One is Joycean stream-of-consciousness, a style which has fascinated me for a while. I have also been writing in an almost “romantic” sort of way, which seems a little old fashioned for modern times; yet I feel that it could still work in the right instance. And I have been working on one story which I am writing in what I would call “dramatic prose monologue”: the style used by Camus in “The Fall” or more recently Mohsin Hamid in “The Reluctant Fundamentalist.” It’s a fun style to work with.

Anyways, that is about all I have to say here. It is early, and I still must eat and get ready for the fifth day of my Maymester on American Lit 1914-1945.

Review of “Beautiful Children” by Charles Bock

I finished this book yesterday on a friend’s porch in Charleston, and since it is a new novel that was published in January 2008, I thought it would be a good one to write a review on. I decided first to check out people’s reviews of it on the Facebook “Books I’ve Read” application, and from what I saw people had mixed reviews, which is how I felt as well. This is Bock’s first novel, and it’s pretty impressive when this is considered.

Bock does a good job of creating a group of different characters, and then interweaving them together. It’s almost like the backstories on “LOST,” only not nearly as intricate. Each chapter, or at times each sub-section of chapters, follows one of these characters throughout one day/night in Las Vegas; or at times the narration flashes back to give the characters back story, or flashes forward to tell what happens after the main day/night in the book. I found it interesting that the narration styles tried to mimic the characters themselves: the mother of a runaway boy’s sections sound like those written by a woman whose life has crumbled; whereas the narrations that follow an anarchistic girl have a nihilistic, underground feel. At many times, this narration style worked well. However, at other times it seemed to be inconsistent: in one section that follows a young man who lives on the streets or with his girlfriend and works for a porn-video distributor, the narration is filled with cursing and racist remarks, which I felt mimicked his personality; but in other sections following this same character, the narration is not at all as “nasty,” and there doesn’t seem to be much reason for the change. But overall, I enjoyed this narration style.

While the alternating narration styles were quite interesting, I felt that there were too many characters in the book. Bock continued to introduce more and more characters as the book went on, which I have no problem with; however, these new characters seem to take over the space that the old characters would’ve had in the novel, which led me to wonder what happened to the old characters. One example can be seen in a middle-aged comic book artist. He takes up a large part of the first third of the novel, and seems to be very important to the story. However, after this, he is barely mentioned, and only had 2 or 3 paragraphs that follow him for the rest of the book. I did not understand why he was introduced early, built up so much, and then just abandoned. All the characters connect somehow, which is quite interesting, but I felt like Bock could have done without giving the backstories on very minor characters who have little or no relevance to the main plot of the story.

While there were some other things I had issue with, overall I enjoyed this book. I wouldn’t consider it “great,” but I can see myself re-reading it somewhere down the road; maybe next time I will appreciate it more. While I criticized it at times while reading, I couldn’t help but want to know what would happen next, and the 400+ pages went by quite fast. I will definitely keep a look out for more work from Charles Bock in the future, and I recommend his first novel, “Beautiful Children,” to anyone interested in a good contemporary read.

Review of “Trainspotting” by Irvine Welsh

I have never really written a review of a book before, but I figured it’s a “literary” thing to do, and seeing as I intend this blog to be literary, I figured why not? I just finished reading “Trainspotting” by Irvine Welsh, and though that it would be an interesting first review since it’s a contemporary novel, and yet (I would say) is fairly well known.

The first thing that is noticeable in “Trainspotting” is the use of the Scots dialect. A lot of people claim that this makes the book extremely difficult to read. While it can be a little tricky at first, I got used to it pretty quickly; once I got into it, I really loved it. I felt like I was reading a book in a foreign language, and yet was completely fluent. In fact, I feel that the dialect isn’t really difficult to read if one sounds out words phonetically in their head. Also, there is a glossary in the back for words that aren’t used by most other English speaking people (two examples are “keks” for underpants and “bairn” for baby).

Another “issue” many people may have with the novel is Welsh’s laxness with grammar. At times, the tense switches between past and present tense. Also, Welsh uses the dialogue dash instead of quotation marks, and many times mixes narration and dialogue within the same paragraph without informing the reader of the switch. While the unconventional grammar can be a little tricky at times, overall I didn’t have problems with it. At times, I would read for pages before it hit me that the tense had changed back and forth multiple times. I feel that this ability to pull the reader in to the point where they don’t notice the problems with dialect or grammar and just focus on the story itself shows how great Welsh is.

The plot development of Welsh’s novel is quite interesting. Several of the chapters in the book had been previously published as short stories, and many other chapters could stand alone as short stories as well. From chapter to chapter, Welsh shifts focus on different characters, moving between first and third person narrations, as well as different points in time. This provides an interesting effect, because it gives little snippets of people lives, which don’t seem that relevant in their own right, but in the overall picture have a larger meaning. Welsh also makes casual references to events from time to time which pop up again later on in the novel. This is definitely one of those novels that can be read again and again, each time shedding new light.

In conclusion, “Trainspotting” is definitely a worthwhile read, and one which I would highly recommend to anyone who enjoys good literature. Also, for anyone who says “well, I’ve seen the movie,” the book is quite different than the movie, and has many more memorable scenes. It is quite interesting to notice the similarities though. At times, scenes in the movie will use different characters than Welsh used in the book. (For example, the scene in the movie where Spud wakes up and has shit the bed actually happens to another character in the book). Irvine Welsh is truly one of the top modern writers of the English language.

Sodium and Tempura

A Short Story

Whoever will not receive you or listen to your words ― go outside that house or town and shake the dust from your feet.
- Matthew 10:14

At 18:16, Abe led the two men out of his apartment complex. He reached the outer door and held it open. Marc Swann exited first, followed by his portly companion Mel Proud. They both wore black suits, and both lit cigarettes as soon as the cool evening air touched their artificially tanned skin.

“So where’re you two off to?” Abe asked as they all walked down the steps towards the sidewalk.

“The Desert Plains,” Marc said. Mel stayed quiet, as usual.

“I hear the food’s good.”

“We’re not going to eat there. The Boss told us to inspect it.”

“You must be puttin’ me on.”

“No.”

“What?”

“There’ve been a lot of complaints,” Marc said.

“You mean?”

“Yeah. It’s gotta be done.”

“You’re inspecting the whole place?” Abe asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“A friend of mine works there.”

“Who?”

“His name is Oscar. He has been a great friend for years.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Marc said. He and Mel put out their cigarettes on the sidewalk, and then got into Mel’s car.

***

The two men reached the restaurant at 19:00. They walked inside, and were greeted by a small, frail looking host.

“Hello, welcome to the Desert Plains,” the man said in a soft voice. “How many are in your party?”

“We are actually here to inspect the restaurant,” Marc replied. He showed the man a forged ID badge which stated that he was a restaurant inspector. “We would like to start in the kitchen.”

“Oh, alright,” the man replied. Marc glanced at his nametag: it read Oscar Haranson.

“Just the man we want to see,” Marc muttered, nudging Mel in the side. “You talk to him while I deal with the chef.” Mel nodded.

Oscar led the two men through the restaurant. There were loving couples gazing into each other’s eyes as they dined on chicken breast, rump roast and mounds of deep fried delights; many of these couples were illegally married through local underground ministers, since the state would never allow such atrocities. The patrons glanced uneasily as the men passed by.

Oscar pushed through the kitchen doors, sending waves of surprise throughout the cooking staff. The two men followed close behind.

“Oscar! What is the meaning of this?” asked the head chef. His voice was flamboyant and feminine. “You are not supposed to bring anybody back here.”

“These men said they are inspectors, sir,” Oscar replied.

“Ah, inspectors!” the head chef shouted sarcastically. “Are we supposed to bow down and kiss your feet?”

“We are just here to see the conditions of your restaurant,” Marc calmly stated.

“Well, all of our food has no trans fat and little sodium,” the head chef said. Mel glanced over at cans of salt stacked up in a pillar. “But I am sure you already made up your mind before you walked in the door.”

As Marc and the head cook were talking, Mel pulled Oscar aside. “Listen,” he said quietly, “things don’t look good here. You better leave now and find somewhere else to work.”

“But I need this job! I have a…” he cleared his throat “wife to support.”

“I understand. Your friend Abe Genisi asked us to help you. He’ll get in touch with you about a new job.”

“Abe?” Oscar replied excitedly.

“Yes. Now please, get out of here now.”

Oscar paused for a second to think, and then exited the kitchen unnoticed.

“You people make me sick, you know that?” the head chef continued. His face was flush with angry blood, mirroring the slabs of meat that lay on the table behind him. “Now get out of my restaurant, or I will have the police escort you off the premise!”

“Very well,” Marc replied. “Mel, I think it’s time to leave.”

The two men exited the restaurant. When they reached the car, Mel popped open the trunk, revealing two submachine guns, a few bottles filled with gasoline, and a couple of rags. Mel opened one of the bottles and began soaking the rags.

“You take the front, and I’ll take the back,” Marc said. Mel nodded as he handed his partner a freshly made Molotov cocktail and a gun. Marc headed towards the alleyway that led to the rear of the restaurant.

Almost simultaneously, the two men threw lit Molotov’s through the windows of the restaurant; the flashing flames brought smiles upon their carnal, blood-hungry faces. Moments later, patrons and workers began pouring out of the restaurant, screaming and coughing, covering their mouths and faces. As the cool evening air touched their tan skin, a storm of bullets began mowing down the fleeing sodomites. The two men responsible erupted in orgasmic delight as they squeezed their guns until every last soul was accounted for.

***

Early the next morning, Abe drove by the pile of rubble and bones where the restaurant had been.

“Don’t worry, Oscar,” he said to his passenger, rubbing his shoulder sensually, “I’ll find you a new job.” They drove off together to breakfast. Abe felt extremely happy that the two men had respected his wishes.

March Madness Time Change Spring Forward

Being that it is now Sunday, my Spring Break is nearly finished. I spent much of my break reading Proust, and fiction based on heroin: notably Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting and Denis Johnson’s short story collection Jesus’ Son, which was recommended to me because I wrote a short story originally entitled “Feel Like Jesus’ Son” about ― you guessed it! ― a heroin addict. I have since revised the story, altering its title to “Always Late,” another classic Lou Reed reference; and I’ve also altered the style, based heavily upon Joycean knock-off stream of consciousness. On a related note, I am working on a research paper about Joyce’s use of stream of consciousness: my thinking being that if I am going to use the style, I should know the history and development of it.

Along with heavy reading this break ― and the consumption of large amounts of rum, whiskey and beer — I did work on a few short stories, my potential novel The Village, and even a couple poems. Somehow that seemed a lot cooler in my head then typed up… but maybe someone will find it cool.

Tonight I bought Beautiful Children by Charles Boch. It was published just a couple months ago, and the New York Times Book Review gave it a nice review and it sounded interesting to me. Maybe I will read it soon and review it myself. I would like to publish reviews on this blog… once I start reading faster. For now, a couple of reviews: if you want to read about Scottish heroin addicts and other crazy Scottish people written in English and Scots, read Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh; and if you want to read the genius of Marcel Proust, read Proust. Hopefully these reviews will become more sophisticated as time goes on.

I feel like I had more to write, but a lot of it got lost along the way. Anyways, more will come sometime I am sure, and maybe even a short story or a poem will float along and find itself here. But it is almost 4 AM, due to the time change, and thus I should try and get some sleep, for I only had four hours of sleep last night, seeing as I was up ‘til 4:30 AM reading, and then I had to wake up at 8:30 AM in order to go to defensive driving, which was required so that I can get my license back and drive once again.

3 AM Thoughts

Catchy title, huh? I didn't realize that the story I posted didn't indent for paragraphs. I probably should have spaced out the paragraphs, but oh well. B'oh well. It appears that possibly 2 people read that story... though the "profile views" calculator counts every time I re-view the blog, so maybe it was just me. Either way, a possible 2 people is cool. I have been working on several short stories, as well as reviewing and being reviewed by fellow writer and classmate Jason Crawford. I hope to get a few stories together that I really like, and submit them to some online literary magazines in hopes of being published. I will also try and post more stories on here, in hopes of building up a fan base. I have been experimenting with a variety of writing techniques, as well as expanding my horizons on reading. Reading modern stories which have been published gives on an idea of what is circulating in the literary world. Today I read a short story by my current writing professor Peter Fontaine, as well as previous professor Josh Russell; read "Yellow Jack" several months ago which was a very well written book, so I would recommend it to any people reading this who have not read it. Slowly but surely I work on "The Village" which I hope will be my first novel. I have worked on it on and off for the past year. Other novel ideas have been put on the shelf for now, but we'll see what happens with those. For now, I must sleep. - Liam

Fifty Two

A short story

My Dad is the best lawyer in the whole world. I tell all my friends at school about how good he is at his job. I did not know what it meant to be a lawyer, but Dad told me he helps people fix problems. He said he helps moms and dads who are having problems and arguing a lot. I think that is really nice of him.

Yesterday, I came home after school and Mom was not there yet. She is usually there when I get home, but sometimes she runs late doing errands. Mom usually takes me with her to do errands on the weekends. Dad never comes with us. We have to go to the cleaners and the grocery store and the mall. I am always bored the whole time. Sometimes she meets friends for lunch, but whenever she does she tells me not to tell Dad that we met one of her friends. They are always nice men, so I do not see why Mom does not want Dad to know. But I never tell Dad. Usually after meeting one of her friends, she takes me to the toy store and buys me a new Lego set, which is nice. After buying it, she hands it to me and reminds me not to tell Dad about meeting her friend. I always nod and say yes Mom. Then I go home and play with my new Lego. But I still do not like doing errands.

After I checked the living room, the kitchen, and my parent’s bedroom for Mom, I put my school stuff away in my room. Then I went back into the kitchen and tried to find where the candy was hidden. I am only allowed one piece after dinner if I am a good boy, but I thought maybe I could sneak a few pieces since no one was home. I started looking through the pantry when I heard the front door open. I ran out of the kitchen and towards the door, expecting to see Mom, but it was Dad instead. He never comes home that early. I thought maybe he had a half day at work, just like teacher work days at school.

As he closed the door, he set down his briefcase. Dad had once told me it was very expensive and that inside there were very important things. His briefcase is black and shiny and smooth to the touch. On the outside is a small gold circle with an eagle and some weird words. Dad once told me they were written “in Lat”, but I do not know what that means. He said maybe I will find out when I am older.

I said hi to Dad and he said hi back but he did not sound that happy to see me. I asked him why he was home so early and he said some stuff happened while he was at work. I asked him if everything was ok and he told me to just watch some TV. He never lets me watch TV, so I was surprised that he told me to. But, I happily did as he said and found some cartoons to watch.
As I watched TV, Dad sat at the kitchen counter and drank some of his red juice. It was juice that only adults could drink. Once I asked him if it tasted like apple juice, because apple juice is my favorite. He had said no, it was made from grapes, and it only tastes good to adults like him and Mom and their friends. He normally does not drink any until dinner, but I figured that he was just thirsty after work. He must have been really thirsty because he had three glasses while I watched two episodes of Sponge Bob Square Pants.

My stomach rumbled, and so I turned off the TV and went into the kitchen. Dad was rubbing his head and he looked upset. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I did not want to upset him more. So, I just asked him when Mom would be home and dinner would be ready. He sighed loudly, then said Mom isn’t coming home tonight.

I hope that Mom comes home soon, because I miss her. Dad didn’t say where she is. I also hope that Dad is happier when he comes home from work tonight. For now, I think I will go watch some TV and wait. But first, I might eat a few more pieces of candy. I found a big bag in the pantry behind some cooking supplies Mom uses. I will have to be sneaky though, because I do not know what would happen if I got caught.

Three Months Gone

So I have not posted anything since my initial post in November. I didn't feel the want to blog (?) but I feel now, as a writer, that maybe blogging is a good idea. Maybe someone will find this blog and who knows where that will lead. Probably not. This is not a journal, though I have begun to write in a journal again on a more regular basis recently. I have been writing numerous short stories which I intend to publish soon enough. I may possibly post some on here, in hopes of building up a fan base, and also building up credibility. Then again, I don't think any body has even read this blog. Hehehe! I should think that streams of thought will flow into this moreso. My earliest Xanga entries, from years ago, looked like utter chaos. Yet I feel that there was some possible substance there. The walls of what I was writing were not there... which makes no sense, yet it did in my mind. I didn't worry about spelling and punctuation and all that grammatical nonsense. Sure, I know grammar. And I know when to use it. But the mind does not restrict itself to grammar. Then again the mind does not restrict itself to words either. One can think in pictures and music and smells of all kinds. But I'm not trying to go off on some psychological analysis, seeing as I know nothing of psychology (or believe that I do not). Onwards.

I have read some research is being done about Type 2 diabetes. While I think this is great, it also gets my hopes up and then burns them to the ground, seeing as I am a diabetic of the first order. That is the second time I have used "seeing" which doesn't seem normal for me. maybe it will become a new fad. There we go... good old nonsense. Spelling and typing don't always add up. I feel like maybe a whiskey and coke or just some whiskey sounds good now, but then again maybe it's better if I wait until I am not so exhausted. I need to sleep more.

That is all for now. hopefully this pics up and something comes from it. If not... then that is that, eh? - Liam