Mattalogue; Living the Xbox Live 'Life'.

A couple of weeks ago I waved goodbye to the greatest thing that happened to me since left handed can openers. No it wasn’t my collection of classic sitcoms, rather a certain someone sodded off the Italy for a month to teach kids how to swear in English. Half way there and I’m still experiencing withdrawal symptoms, it’s quite jarring talking to someone nearly every day for 8 months then suddenly stopping. Like suddenly becoming deaf the day before a new Maiden albums out.

So what did I do the day after she departed for the great boot shaped former empire? Blub uncontrollably? Sit in the dark covered in Vaseline while looking at pictures of her? Write a whingey blog/poem/story?

Nope!

In fact I did something rather more telling and nerdilicious. I got Xbox Live.

Yes that’s right, I finally bowed to the ‘man’ and paid money to unlock something already installed. Although that’s par for the course with an Xbox. If you so much as want to change your name it’ll cost you, then as soon as you press the ‘confirm’ button, hey presto! There it is! Normally I don’t like laying into Bill Gates, it’s the equivalent of shooting the morbidly obese kid at paintball. Anyone can do it and joining in leaves me devoid of ammo for the less obvious targets. Like a passing Ant McPartlin –if you’re too young…look it up- or that guy who’s allergic to paint. Not that I'm bashing the Xbox itself. It has games! It's just been her first anniversary as my official play thing, maybe we can squeeze another 12 months in before she gets a red ring.

But anyway! On with the story, my first xbox live experience took place on none other than Red Dead Redemption. If you’re one of the 2 people who doesn’t have it (the other being the blind kid…he tripped up and fell down a mineshaft) then I highly recommend it for the single player alone. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll rage at the half thought out Scrappy character you play in the end.

So there I was, in the vast expanse of the American west with nothing on my side but a donkey and a pistol you couldn’t kill a rabbit with. For the first few times I played, I totally avoided other people. It appears that even on Xbox Live I’m an anti-social smegger. Whenever someone came towards me or invited me to join their ‘posse’ I would scarper away, my donkey placed firmly between my legs. Of course, anti-social tendencies didn’t prevent me from making a couple of enemies.

I was casually minding my own business, taking pot shots at two gangs beefing it out over a ‘Zebra-Donkey’. Don’t bore me with the biological impossibilities. All you need to know is it’s awesome. So naturally, while the two sides were duking it out, I snuck up and stole the donkey. Big mistake.

One person seemed to take offense to this, and spent the rest of the session chasing me down with their ridiculously over powered arsenal. Taking back the ‘Zebra Donkey’ didn’t seem to be enough for them. Like Richard Kimble I was hunted down across the United States, and this person was Tommy Leet J0nez. Eventually the chase ended the only way it could. By me pressing ‘quit’ and making myself a cup of tea.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. If someone has marked themselves as an ‘Underground’ gamer…get the hell out of there because they WILL be a douche. I really want to try out COD fer 2 on Live too, however I'm slightly intimidated by the fact that people use mics in the game. I find there to be something quite creepy about shooting virtual people in the face, then hearing the voice of a nine year old telling me to "get out of [his] town" or just opting for a frustrated banshee screech.

Needless to say, I’m looking forward to returning to Uni. I’m pretty sure I’ve done more work this summer than I ever did last year. But hey, next years gonna be different. The grades actually matter. Which means I’m much more likely to fail. Oh and the small matter of that special person returning. I should probably bathe.

Mattalogue; Summer, Elephants and Green Buttocks.

Summer! The season of music festivals, BBQ’s, 90 minute movies with 88 minutes of explosions and 2 of gratuitous cleavage shots and of course shirtless men. It’s an oft’ referenced cliché of us Brits, if the sun makes an appearance for more than a minute you’ll find us all outside. Leaving nothing to the imagination, pale spare tyres squeezing themselves out of tight tracksuit bottoms. Desperate for their fix of UV.

I’ve never found tans that appealing myself, which is irritating because I always wind up with one, even when I didn’t want to. No, especially when I didn’t want to. I’ll never forget when I came back from my Christmas Holiday in South Africa, people at school were amazed (and perhaps just a little bit jealous) that I had a wonderful golden tan in January. I say ‘wonderful’ it stopped quite abruptly just above my elbows and just below the knees. But I’m pretty sure they have to as part of a British law.

Currently I’m in the town that time forget once more, doing errands for relatives. My Grandmother likes to think she’s the matriarch of the family, the alpha female elephant. Strong, intimidating and with unquestionable leading skills. However in this plane of existence we call ‘reality’ she is in fact more like the Tick attached to the aforementioned elephants nipple. Perhaps the best description of her is “Hyacinth Bucket with cataracts”.

I’d say the customary “but I digress” around about now, except I don’t really have anything to digress from. Life at the moment is great, I have a loving family, a great girlfriend, equally fantastic friends (never let it be said I’ll not include them now I’m ‘in a relationship, I’m not that pathetic) food in the cupboard and most importantly…24 hour internet access.

I’m only one step away from perfection in my life right now; air conditioning in every room of this damn sweat box of a house. If I didn’t know any better I’d say Satan himself was taking a summer break in the foundations of the house. Oh wait, make that a possible two steps away from perfection – it’s not natural for your buttocks to glow green under low lighting is it? Not that mine do…just a friend of a friend was asking y’see.

Mattalogue; All Change, Except For The Underwear Department

So as a handful of people have pointed out to me over the past couple of weeks, it’s been awhile since I updated this thing. And believe me, it’s not from lack of trying. There have been at least 5 attempts at applying the shocky-paddles of life to the heart of this blog. Each with varying levels of failure.

But since the last post things have changed, alot.

Firstly the major change is I’m no longer a ‘singleton’ as I have been irritatingly referred to in the recent past. Yes that’s right, I’ve found someone crazy enough to want to call me their boyfriend. But all self deprecation aside, things are going well and I feel like the luckiest man on earth.

Another thing that's changed is that I'm now typing this on a shiny working laptop. That's right...Reggie is -much like the career of Jim Davidson- dead in a tatty bag. It was a fitting end for a piece of technology who bought nothing but frustration and third degree burns. So yes you guessed it, his death involved...much frustration and third degree burns. He also took my pictures/songs with him. May he rot in Silicon Hell. The bastard.

The final piece of change in my eventful life is that I've finally left our temporary residence for a year. Floffle Quash. Rather tellingly a house named after a random assortment of letters seen on the back of a Chav-mobile wasn't the easiest to live in. Sure downstairs prison toilet (so named because it had a lock on the OUTSIDE) exploded and flooded a good portion of the house. And okay, maybe most of the rooms had a unique 'mouldy' décor to them. But it was still my home for many months and I feel rather empty knowing I can't go back without getting a court order.

It was hard leaving that place behind, so many memories formed over the course of a year. And the male bonding, oh, the male bonding. 40 minutes spent batting a balloon around one of the bedrooms in a little triangle. These truly were the hardcore-raving-Vikingesque nights I'd heard tale of before coming to University.

Another odd thing about our house was the 'spot of doom' situated just behind the T.V.. A black mark on the wall which grew as time went on. Unlike its suspiciously similar brother on one of the latest episodes of Doctor Who it hasn't nearly killed James Corden. But I'm still willing to give a try. Go on James, touch it. It'll be funny...'cause you're fat.

That's all for now I believe, I'm sure you were waiting with bated breath for quite awhile for such a riveting update on my life. Now that I've moved out I officially consider this time 'the summer holidays' what thrills and spills will I encounter during this long period of rest? Sunburn? Anger at the o.t.t. displays of jingoism while the World Cup goes along? Getting a job? Stay tuned for more exciting adventures!

Mattalogue; Delving into the Land of the Poisoned Skies

So after a real world shake up, I've decided to dedicate my free time to writing the first in my End of the Road 'series'; Land of the Poisoned Skies.

It's gonna be tough, mostly because I'm easily distracted at the moment (oh the problems of writing on an internet enabled laptop) and I'm starting to wonder if I've made the plot too dense. Especially considering it's my first venture into the world of non-short story writing. Though it could be worse, the fifth in the 'series' -Revelations- deals with the end of the world from the perspective of the two men that cause it (not to mention other side characters). One of them the Machiavellian head of state in an foreign country and the other a self destructive assassin. Which in turn is actually a flash back by the assassin as he lies recovering in a bed in Botswana and begins to realise he's not safe even in the middle of nowhere. I don't think I'll be seen for several months.

Of course, thanks to my usual brand of pessimism (which has been reinforced, hard) I don't think this is going well. After all, I started work on the first chapter -entitled The Great, Unwanted Gift for the moment- and immediately decided that such a manoeuvre was worthy of my first non-emo blog post in awhile.

Anyway, on a heavier note 2010 seems to be a cursed year for the Metal genre. If we consider the final days of 2009 as a part of this year we've had; The Rev (who unfortunately is from a band which is a fave source of hatedom of so called 'metal-heads', despite the fact that most of the metalbands they worship adore them), Peter Steele, Ronnie James Dio and now Paul Gray pass on. All of which were very talented individuals who brought alot -and in some cases everything- to their respective bands. Especially Mr Dio.

I'm sure most guitar players are shitting themselves right now.

And if you don't agree with me, you sir, are a Fallout Boy fan!

Mattalogue: The Trio of (impending) Fail

So over the past few weeks and blog posts I’ve grown more and more confident with letting people see my ‘stuff’. After all, it’s not used to seeing the light of day or the eyes of people I’ve not paid off to compliment it. At first I thought they’d laugh and judge me, maybe even call me names behind my back.

But innuendos aside, I’m not entirely sure why I’m feeling more confident, if anything the quality of my writing has gone down during these past few months. Perhaps it’s the anonymity of being able to fling my ‘work’ up here and then duck and cover. Maybe it’s the fact that only a handful of people actually read what I put up. Who knows?

Tonight is my last night in Leigh for the foreseeable future. Which is probably why I’m feeling generous and willing to divulge some ‘character info’ from my ‘project’. The previous sentence is perhaps further proof how un-confident I actually am, whenever referring to my ‘work’ I always find myself using ‘’. See? There I went again! Perhaps it’s an attempt to distance myself from what I’m writing just in case people suspect I’m crazy/shit.

But what is this thing your working on? I hear one person ask.

Well, in as broad a sense as possible, it is about the end of our world as we know it (and I feel fine…sorry) from 3 very different perspectives. That of a normal person in highly unordinary circumstances, a sociopathic nihilistic clone and a human hating Dinosaur who’s only in it for revenge.

Wow…I managed to sum up something I’ve been working on for almost a decade in just one paragraph. I’m more surprised than that time I found myself doing a stupid cutaway gag ala anything ever done by Seth MacFarlane.

But onwards! So that’s a brief summary of the lead characters Nathan (everyman/boy) Dephchare (clone/subject of Vicarious Student post awhile back) and Stryka (racist Dinosaur). Of course, there are a few more characters than that. For example, there is the policeman Samuel Carmilie who fills the spot of the only sane man, until of course, he actually goes insane. There’s also the shallow designated love interest who makes Edward Cullen seem like a well rounded likeable character. But don’t worry, it’s intentional.

I’m going to have to admit here and now, I’m quite proud of Dephchare and Stryka. They are two of my most prized creations. Dephchare represents that dark side of humanity, the ruthless ‘kill or be killed’ spirit held within every real life psychopath or businessman, taken to its extreme and drenched in grotesque charm. Stryka on the other hand is much harder for me to explain in just one blog post. Not that I’m giving the characters or myself more credit than they’re due, but it’s quite hard to explain the history of a 700 year old non-human in just a few sentences.

Oh and there is also an unspeakable abomination inspired by experimentation with sleep deprivation, strong cheese and my own mental instability, which takes the form of The Harbinger.

And all this is just in the first instalment! You lucky, lucky folks! So basically this entire post has been an attention whoring attempt to garner your interest when I eventually decide to make some headway on the first of my End of the Road project. Tentatively entitled Land of the Poisoned Skies.

Till next time! Adios!

Extract; No Place Like Home

“Look at the hill on the horizon” Nathan said, tired of giving exposition “I’d point, but…y’know” he raised his hands to point out to Vaughan that he was still handcuffed, in the vain hope that he’d be freed. “Okay, I’m looking” Vaughan growled, his eyes barely focused on the mound that lay a mile ahead of them. Its surface was of a bare black soil and a few trees dotted the perfectly flat peak. He saw nothing else, save the grey sky which stretched far beyond the hill. “You’d better not be fucking with us” he snapped, while in his pocket he reached for the small device designed to activate the shock collar. He also gave a subtle raise of the eyebrow to Carmilie, telling him to be prepared.

“No sir” Nathan replied, trying his best not to stutter and betray his nervousness. He coughed and tried to regain his composure, “now, look back at me” he continued. Irritated, Vaughan turned his gaze back to his prisoner, he fantasized about clubbing him to death right now, no one had to know. The shame and terror of a nation could die right now, in the middle of nowhere. In a pool of his own blood, unable to defend himself. Karma. But instead protocol beckoned.

“I’m going to tell you something, and you need to listen very carefully” Nathan’s voice was barely a whisper above the rustling of the long grass which waved at them from their left, while the stagnant pond to their right did nothing but offend their nostrils with its various smells. “On top of that hill is a large Naval Camp from the forties”

Vaughan smacked Nathan across the face with his shock remote, “don’t waste my fucking time boy!” he spat as his victim fell to the floor. Dust flew up around them as Nathan hit the ground. “Sir! Sir!” he heard Mr Carmilie’s voice ring out above the throbbing in his head and the pain in his chest as Vaughan kicked him in the ribs. His aggressors body eclipsed the sun as he stood over him. Suddenly the kicking stopped as Vaughan was pulled away from Nathan. “Look sir!” he could hear Mr Carmilie shouting, but his head was ringing too much for him to care. He just wanted to lie in the dust and await his execution.

Vaughan was about to reprimand his underling the second he’d placed his hands on Vaughan’s usually immaculate suit and forcibly turned him to face the hill. It was then that he saw it. Sticking high above the tree-line on the aforementioned hill. It was a series of large buildings including what looked like a red brick tower. Even from that distance he could make out the corrugated iron roof, it was semi-circular like a small-scale aircraft hangar.

“There’s no way that was there before” Vaughan spluttered to Carmilie. Nathan pulled himself into an upright position and smirked at the two men’s faces, both wide-eyed and the perfect picture of Hippos at feeding time. He saw the familiar shape of HMS Gosling through the trees and a shiver rocketed up his spine. He knew what lay in the decrepit building, the horror he was about to unleash on Mr Vaughan and Mr Carmilie, deep down he felt it would be retribution.

Mattalogue; Back to the Dark Ages

So a few weeks back our Washing Machine did the dishonourable thing and killed itself right in the middle of washing my favourite shirts. Luckily no one was harmed. Sadly enough, rather than going out like a warrior, in a hail of explosions, blood and bullets, it did the deed a different way. Like a middle class Emo kid whose mother had just refused to buy him a box of his favourite brand of cereal. It simply locked itself and drowned in its own lumpy grey bile.

It was because of this and one other unspoken reason that I decided “fuck it…time to go home”, so I hopped in my time machine, set the dial to 1392 and went to Leigh.

Now, some people don't believe me and my fellow escapees what this genetic cul-de-sac really is like. I've always maintained that if the world were to ever need an enema, Wigan would be the place to insert it. With that in mind, Leigh is the piles of the arse hole of the British Isles. It's so insignificant that it's not even the main subject of a metaphor describing it.

Of course, I don't blame the town, its done well with what it's had (i.e. nothing), constantly robbed of resources and credit by its neighbouring overlords, the pie eaters. We do try though...every so often we're able to gather enough dry wood (mostly stolen from Astley) and construct a giant Wickerman with which to burn a virgin (mostly stolen from Astley) to appease the Gods of the borough council.

Occasionally they give us shiny new benches for our 'parks'. I say 'parks', they're really just Dogging facilities.

It's quite an interesting town, considering there is less facial variation than a PSone game. Which is why I've set 2/6 of my 'project' in this lovely little hovel. After all, where better place for a sociopathic clone and racist Dinosaur to have their first contact with modern day society than this place? Of course, by the time the narrative leaves the town it is some how even worse but that's for another blog post.

I'm spending the next few days in my Grandparents old house, a rather spacious terrace which commands lovely views of the Marsh Playing Field (or as the Wigan town council wanted it to be known, the Marsh Playing Car Park) and the Pataks Curry factory.

Although I complain, I quite enjoy my days in this house, its been in the family for nigh on a hundred years so I always manage to find new and interesting items which have been stowed away in a dusty drawer or plonked precariously on a bookshelf. Before I started Uni I actually found "Fly Fishing by J.R. Hartley". Of course, I realise that reference is probably lost on most people my age, but still. I had a massive fan/nerdgasm.

I'm currently looking out the window and amazed at how nice a day it is, the sun glinting off the corrugated roof of Pataks and ASDA is almost blinding at certain times of day.

As I mentioned earlier, 2 parts of my 'project' (namely, Land/World of the Poisoned Skies and Filling the Void) are set here, which is why I'm planning on spending at least one day wandering the town looking for decent events/places to note down and use. That's the upside of being in this town, never a dull moment.

I should probably leave it at this for now, I can see they've almost finished the legs of the Wickerman. Soon I'll be called up for a raiding party into Astley, better don my horned helmet and box of eggs.