Twilight: for readers who think having a plot was soooo last year....

To make this clear to anyone who have only just started to read this blog (and that will probably be all of 3 people), I DON'T LIKE TWILIGHT. Really don't like it. I won't go so far as to say I hate it......actually, I will go so far as to say I hate it.

So, for your enjoyment (or unenjoyment (if that's a word) depending on whether you agree with me or not) I will show a lovely short comic to illustrate why Twilight should not be called "literature".

http://antitwilight.deviantart.com/art/KellyNoel-Twilight-SUCKS-81082622

Oh, and for anyone who agrees with me, you can go here fro all your Twilight-sucking needs. http://twilightsucks.com/

Ah. Hmmm. Right. Ok.

I don't really know what to write, actually. Ummm....


Ummm....


Ah! I know!

Some little kids from up my street just called me an asshole. I was cracking up and they got really annoyed. It was soooooo funny. I don't really know why they called me an asshole. Meh. Kids don't make sense sometimes.
Lol.

Revolutionary

This is the first draft of my short story. You know? The one that I said was about street racing. Well, it's not anymore. It's set in the French Revolution in 1790. Main character is called Pierre De Leurs. But I won't give away any more. Here it is.



Revolutionary

By Matt


The four grey, stone walls enclosed Pierre De Lèurs. Candles softly lit the small interrogation room. Pierre watched the flickering shadows dance across the ceiling as they illuminated his hard features. There were no windows to the outside world, so he could not tell what time of day it was.

The year was 1790. France was in a state of turmoil, after King Louis XVI was thrown out of the palace, and a revolution had begun. Pierre was in the thick of it, fully supporting the king and rebelling against the new regime, along with a few other supporters.
Pierre had been captured and taken to the new government’s headquarters in Paris. Now he was awaiting interrogation by one of the leaders of the new administration, a man named Goustav.

Pierre was snapped out of his trance the sharp sound of a door opening and then slamming shut again. When he opened his dark green eyes he saw that Goustav, accompanied by two rough looking guards, had entered the room.
Goustav was strong, had a firm build, and was quite tall, which added to his frightening persona. If you saw him in a dark alley at night, you would run in the other direction. His appearance helped to make sure that no-one stood against him for long.
The guards took their place at the back of the room just behind the brae wooden chair where Pierre was tightly bound with thick rope. The guards, who each had a black powder musket, were just within striking distance of Pierre.
Goustav stood in front of Pierre and stared him down. Pierre blinked first, and Goustav let out a chuckle.
“Pierre, is it?” questioned Goustav. “So you are the one who has been causing all the trouble?”
Pierre said nothing. Goustav glared at him with his deep brown eyes, and then signalled to the guards. One of them strode forward and swung the butt of his musket into Pierre’s head. It made contact with a crack.
Lights danced and popped in front of Pierre’s eyes. His head felt like it had been split in two. Blood dripped down from the large cut now imprinted onto Pierre’s skull and made his black hair become matted with the crimson liquid.
“When I ask you a question, you answer me,” said Goustav. “Or there will be consequences. Now, let us try this again. Where is the headquarters of the rebellion?”
Pierre’s head throbbed with pain. “Don’t know. Couldn’t tell you,” he answered.
Immediately the guards acted. One of them twisted the chair holding Pierre around to face themselves, then the other one punched Pierre in the stomach, again and again, until Goustav signalled for them to stop. The guards stood to attention and moved back to their places.
Pierre tried to breathe, but couldn’t. The brutal blows had completely incapacitated him.
“Are you getting the picture now, young Pierre?” said Goustav menacingly. “You don’t talk, we hurt you. You do it enough, and we kill you.”
Pierre finally got his breath back and glowered at the vicious leader. He had no choice; he had to cooperate to some extent. But he was loyal to his other rebels, he would hopefully not succumb to the punishment and reveal where they were.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” said Goustav. “Where are the other radicals?”
“Places. Probably somewhere in France,” answered Pierre. His reply dripped with sarcasm.
Goustav tut-tutted. “Wrong answer.”
Once again the guards came forward; and this time they would not be gentle.



Pierre could hardly see. Both his eyes were now black, puffy and swollen. He thought he might have a broken elbow. Every part of his body was screaming in protest at the ruthless beating it had taken.
“Judging by your uncomfortable expression, you seem to be in pain.” Goustav’s observation was an understatement.
“I am going to make you an offer,” said Goustav. “And I would strongly advise that you accept it. You will accept it, or face death. And not by guillotine. Something slow, and painful. Very, very, painful.”
Pierre wasn’t in a position to argue. “What is it?”
“If you tell me everything, locations, people, records…I will let you go, and pretend that you were never part of the rebellion against this new regime.”
Pierre was torn. He was in a massive amount of pain, and wanted this to be over. But he didn’t want to betray his friends. He did not know what to do.
“You have thirty seconds to make up your mind.”




Four days later, Pierre walked down the concrete steps from the building he had been held in into a large courtyard. Many hundreds of people were gathered around a sort of wooden stage. Except instead of actors, there was only a guillotine.
There was a man standing on the scaffolding with his hands tied behind his back. He gave Pierre a pleading look. Pierre looked away with shame.
Suddenly the crowd went slient. Then he heard the shrill shriek of the blade falling towards the man’s neck. He was dead. A roar went up from the gathering. For them, this was entertainment.
Goustav clapped his hand onto Pierre’s shoulder. He flinched. He hadn’t heard him walk up.
“You did the right thing, you know. No-one could have stood up against us for long. You did him a favour by making the end quick.”
Goustav gave Pierre one final glance, then walked away. As the crowd slowly receded and left the courtyard, Pierre felt alone.
He did the right thing?
Pierre De Lèurs wasn’t so sure.





There you go. Did you like it? It's only a first draft, but I'm pretty happy with it. :)

Anyone who is a regular reader of this blog (and there will probably only be one person) will have realised that I have deleted 2 previous posts. I did this because they contained some sensitive information that, if it got spread around, would be the end of my social life as we know it. Basically social suicide.

P.S I'm also pissed. Firstly becuase it already got leaked. And second......Tim got an iPod Touch. Before me. I hate my life. (Not really. But at this second, yeah.)

It is official....

I have a new favourite song.

It's a cover of a Michael Jackson song, and I liked the original, but I love the cover.

It's "Beat It" by Fall Out Boy featuring John Mayer (he does a guitar solo in the middle). It's soooooo good. I'm listening to it right now actually. The solo is AWESOME!

Very good. Fantastic. Love it.

Ah. Right. Oops.

Maybe I should've. It sounds good.


No, I don't know what I'm talking about either. So tough luck. We're both stumped.

Crap. Crapola. Crap attack. Crappiness. (How many variations are there?)

Just one of those days. You know. A day that's not bad when you look at bits of it, but as a whole, yeah, it's pretty CRRRRAAAAPPP.

I won't go into the details, because there are none. It's just a big lump of crappy Monday. Yesiree, no doubt about it. (Where did that word come from?)

Oh, and monkeys. (I said it was only mostly not going to have monkeys, didn't I?)

Rules. I hate rules. Dammit.

So apparently, blogs are not for pouring out our feelings and thoughts onto the World Wide Web.

What are they for then? Monkeys?

I don't care. I'm going to post whatever I want.

But not monkeys.

Mostly.

Soon.

Soon I will be releasing my all-new action packed short story. About street racing.

It's for school.




Soon.

Why do I need a title anyway?

Just a couple of hours ago I saw Transporter 3 with Jason Statham. It's pretty good.





Maybe I should write something else.




Nah.

Apparently no-one cares

Apparently no-one cares about the world's ugliest cars. So I won't talk about them. Next post will NOT be about cars. Mostly.

I've been Touched

There have been many innovations of technology in my time (nearly 14 years). When I was born, the Internet was just getting started, when I was 4 the first iMac changed the computer world forever, when I was 6 the very first iPod came out. And now, there is a new revolution.

The iPod Touch.

I am so amazed at the amount of apps available for it. You can play air hockey, use a lightsaber, play drums, pop bubble wrap, train your brain, race a car, blow up stuff, and so much more. It is the coolest piece of tech around at the moment.

I want one.

This has got to be...

The worlds ugliest car: The Subaru B9 Tribeca. See it here: http://www.netcarshow.com/subaru/2006-b9_tribeca/1024x768/wallpaper_04.htm

Another contender could be the Ssangyong Rodius: http://www.netcarshow.com/ssangyong/2004-rodius/1024x768/wallpaper_03.htm

The Kia Soul. This has no soul, just like the devil, its also just as ugly:

http://www.netcarshow.com/kia/2010-soul/1024x768/wallpaper_04.htm

And the Chevrolet Aveo might not be the ugliest, but it it the worst designed. I mean look at the Chevvy badge just shoved between the grilles as a sort of afterthought.
http://www.netcarshow.com/chevrolet/2008-aveo/1024x768/wallpaper_05.htm

I never want to come within 50 km of any of these cars. They should be burned at the stake, and the designers should be tortured for creating such......minions of Satan. Why can't all cars be beautiful? It's not that hard. The worlds best looking car? Thats here of course: http://www.netcarshow.com/aston_martin/2009-db9/1024x768/wallpaper_02.htm

According to the government, there's nothing healthy about a tan

Swimming carnival was today. My house won (yay). But the only thing wrong.....is sunburn. I hate sunburn. I got some more today. There was no shortage of sunburn at the carnival, no-siree (where did that word come from?). The thing is, I'm really white. So I don't tan. I burn. Badly. So from a week or so I actually look darker, but then it peels, and I'm back to my usual self. Ugh.

I hate the sun.

(i dont actually, cause otherwise we'd be dead if there was no sun.....)

Swimming. The sport of men. Or not.

Ugh. I just rembered what's tomorrow. Swimming carnival. Ugh.

It's not that I don't like swimming.......actually come to think of it, it IS that I don't like swimming. Don't get me wrong, I love going to the beach and messing around in a backyard pool, but laps......no, thank you. Especially since my school makes swimming compulsory in Term 1 and 4. Term 4 is better cause its mainly Life saving, water polo, etc. But Term 1 is just laps. And more laps. And then even more. Ugh.
I only have to do freestyle for the carnival, but even then.......there's really only one word for it.

Ugh.

Can't think of a title...

Girls. A gender I will never understand. Let me explain.

Just yesterday I asked a girl out. Now, before you ask, she said no. But not like you're thinking. Anyway, I had liked her for a while, but she didn't like me.....not in that way anyway. So what I want to know is.....who the hell is a guy supposed to get a girlfriend? The odds of a girl liking you at the same time as you liking them is about 1,000 to 1. I'm thinking that it takes at least 10 girls before you find one that likes you back.
Also, if a girl does like you, she won't do anything about it. So you'll never know, you'll never get a chance to ask her out, so nothing will happen. ARRGGHH!!


High school is hard.

GLFIT

That's right, I am a God Loving Freaked-out Insecure Teenager, and loving it! Welcome to my blog, and this will be my random thought puddle. Get it? Got it? Good. :)