ok
i now have a new special blog site, set up by my brother
it's basically the same as this one, except with a cooler html
http://stevenpillemer.com
Monday, May 14, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Monday, May 7, 2007
Prologue
A novel will frequently begin with a prologue. The prologue establishes something that becomes an integral part of the novel as it weaves onwards from it's first chapter. In the Da Vanci code, it's when the weird old secret service grandad of the French Translator chick gets whacked. It sets something up, for the reader, that reveals certain information to him that is beyond the grasp of the main protagonist.
I am currently in the opening chapter of the next phase of my life. Unbeknownst to me the prologue is occuring elsewhere in the world and I am blithely unaware of it. Some situation, some person, some reality is occuring somewhere that I am about to inadvertantly step into. I, the protagonist of my life, have no clue as to what this shall be.
You the reader do not either, because in the novel of a life the only objective viewer are aliens or God or Big Brother depending on what set of conspiracies you choose to believe to explain the unexplainable nature of the universe. Perhaps it is a book unread. Certainly Dawkins would say it is so.
Chapter one progresses with tying up the odd ends of my life, leaving Cape Town, packing boxes, not really saying goodbye to everyone I should have said goodbye to and receiving slightly petulant e-mails, smses and face-book messages to vaugely inquire into the rude nature of my behaviour.
In Chapter One the status quo of the protangonist gets set up as well as what he expects. Or she. In this case he.
London. What do I expect?
Mm.
Those tube station signs.
That's about it. The rest is a mystery.
Ooh, and British accents.
I am currently in the opening chapter of the next phase of my life. Unbeknownst to me the prologue is occuring elsewhere in the world and I am blithely unaware of it. Some situation, some person, some reality is occuring somewhere that I am about to inadvertantly step into. I, the protagonist of my life, have no clue as to what this shall be.
You the reader do not either, because in the novel of a life the only objective viewer are aliens or God or Big Brother depending on what set of conspiracies you choose to believe to explain the unexplainable nature of the universe. Perhaps it is a book unread. Certainly Dawkins would say it is so.
Chapter one progresses with tying up the odd ends of my life, leaving Cape Town, packing boxes, not really saying goodbye to everyone I should have said goodbye to and receiving slightly petulant e-mails, smses and face-book messages to vaugely inquire into the rude nature of my behaviour.
In Chapter One the status quo of the protangonist gets set up as well as what he expects. Or she. In this case he.
London. What do I expect?
Mm.
Those tube station signs.
That's about it. The rest is a mystery.
Ooh, and British accents.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Competitive vibes
Ergh. My brother convinced me to add my blog to Amatomu which is like a blog ranking rating system, and now I feel obliged to write more on it, because I'm competitive. Not in like a sports kind of way though. I don't like to run fast, or shoot well, or y'know, hit things.
Except walls, but only when I'm feeling really frustrated.
Or want to have some cool knuckle bruises to impress chicks with.
See, now I'm just showing off.
Women, man... my new show did it's first preview last night and opens on Friday. The preview went well, people laughed, even at the bit where someone threatens to cut out someone else's tongue. I always get worried when using excessive violence as a source of comedy, but hey, they say the essence of comedy is someone else's misery, and people laughed it up.
And then at the end, in one of the sad monologues, this group of girls sitting around a table all started crying. It was awesome.
I like to make girls cry.
Now I'm just showing off again.
Stupid competitive blogging vibe, it makes me act out.
Except walls, but only when I'm feeling really frustrated.
Or want to have some cool knuckle bruises to impress chicks with.
See, now I'm just showing off.
Women, man... my new show did it's first preview last night and opens on Friday. The preview went well, people laughed, even at the bit where someone threatens to cut out someone else's tongue. I always get worried when using excessive violence as a source of comedy, but hey, they say the essence of comedy is someone else's misery, and people laughed it up.
And then at the end, in one of the sad monologues, this group of girls sitting around a table all started crying. It was awesome.
I like to make girls cry.
Now I'm just showing off again.
Stupid competitive blogging vibe, it makes me act out.
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