Thoughts of an Anarchist

You! EMPLOYEE! Do you feel involved in the changes taking place in this blog? Do you? HUH?

Well, I think you should. And as none of you know what my last blog was about, I am here to give you a challenge:

Question One

a) Having read the review, I want you to create your own idea of what the series I reviewed could be like - a synopsis, brief character descriptions, your own review, whatever. You may use for stimulus the past blog, and this picture:

(for a bigger version, you may click here. 

IT MUST INCLUDE SEVEN OF THE FOLLOWING THINGS:

• a sugar bowl
• orphans
• fire
• the Snicket siblings
• a schism
• a desert island
• several storms
• mushrooms
• horseradish
• eyes
• Carmelita Spats
• the Queequeg
• puttanesca sauce

b) What interesting acronym could the letters VFD stand for?

c) If there’s nothing out there, what was that noise?

Do it, do it!

Points will be given for originality, funniness and imagination.

Most original answer, as always, gets a prize, no matter who you are. Do it!

love you all too much,

Abs x

The End is here. 

 ”We are like boats passing in the night - particularly you.”

I am talking, if you don’t know, about Lemony Snicket. Book 13 - The End - was accquired by me on Monday, in an unfortunate circumstance which involved a treacherous waiter, a small herby crouton, a paisley tie and a Very Fatty Dinner. I wrestled the bear in order to pry that which G had recommended to me, and found a small book, along with Friday’s shell, some wool from the sheep, a selection of pages from the books Kit Snicket arrived on, and a picture of Count Olaf in drag, to better help with Mr Helquist’s illustrations.

The End - a phrase which here means ‘the final book in A Series Of Unfortunate Events’ - was one of my most eagerly anticipated books this year. As is the norm with me, it was not the main characters I found myself more directly interested in, but more my own takes on the minor characters… the Snicket siblings, Jacques, Kit and Lemony; Duchess R, only mentioned; whatever happened to Esme?; Monty, o Monty, I mourn you still; on that note, Dewey! OH GOD, DEWEY!; Beatrice.

And I still haven’t got The Beatrice Letters.

But man, is it me, or did it throw up more questions than it answered?

SPOILERZ FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ACTUALLY CARE (contains quote!abuse)

We don’t know about the sugar bowl - although it’s obviously in the pond, yah? Dropped there by the crows in The Penultimate Peril? But do we know why it’s so important, except for the fact that sugar should be as bitter as wormwood, blah, blah blah…  OH, BRAIN THOUGHT:

He gave a large, shuddering wheeze, and continued to read. ” ‘We’re attempting a botanical hybrid through the tuberous canopy, which should bring safety to fruition despite its dangers to our associates in utero. Of course, in case we are banished, Beatrice is hiding a small amount in a vess-” 

Yes? In a what? In a ‘Vessel For Disaccharides’… a sugar bowl, anyone?

Oh. Having checked Wikipedia, it seems that other people have already put forward this theory. Bum. At any rate, that would explain a lot… “Considering that: A) Lemony had just been referring to the piece of evidence that would inculpate Count Olaf  for the fires for which Lemony himself had been accused, and B) a sugar bowl is one of the ingredients in a tea set, it seems that one possibility of the sugar bowl’s contents is that they are the pieces of evidence which will exculpate Lemony Snicket and incriminate Count Olaf, making it necessary for the noble side of the schism to get the sugar bowl to make its contents public, and for the wicked side to get the sugar bowl to destroy it.” (from Wiki).

Does Lemony have something to do directly with the Medusoid Mycelium, which is what horseradish dilutes and cures? I seem to remember something from The Grim Grotto about the ‘Snicket Snickersnee’.

Lemony is probably my favourite character. Gah!

It has finally been revealed that the Beatrice Baudelaire thing in The Hostile Hospital was not a red herring, but she actually was the Baud’s mum. This makes me very happy, as I have been ’shipping’ them like crazy for ages. HOWEVER if Beatrice was once upon a time pursued by Olaf, and his true love is Kit… then… my brain hurts.

And speaking of Olaf… HE DIED?! WHAT THE HELL?! But I suppose it was the best death he could have wished…

We never learnt the true story of VFD. I would love to hear more, if Lemony Snicket ever writes again… Daniel Handler has hinted this may not be the last we hear of his alter-ego, and since his life has been so touched by VFD, and the idea of stories going on and on…

In conclusion… I have mixed feelings on it. 

The last two chapters made me cry. Cry and wail. The writing was beautiful.

13 chapters, 13 books. 1 extra. That was it. The End. 

However, I have never ever read something as awesome as

“Neiklot?” Sunny asked, which meant “Why are you telling us about this ring?” 

Ever.

“My love flew like a butterfly

Until death swooped down like a bat

As the poet Emma Montana said;

“That’s the end of that.”"

The hills are alive… with the sound of Abbi…

Yes, kiddywinks, it’s time for me to talk to you about folk rock; my favourite names in the business.

Starting with the amazing, one and only,

Flogging Molly.

Irish-Celtic-Punk-Rock! WHAT is not to love about these guys? Devil’s Dance Floor may well be the best song ever; one of.

“Her blood began to speak as she stood right in front of me,
The colour of her eyes were t’ colour of insanity…”

Also, around 40% of their songs are about pirates. They even have a song which has the lyrics “Drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and FIGHT!” I mean… seriously. Folk rock to the extreme. Any group who can pull off the lyric

“I once loved a girl; a child I am told… I gave me her my heart and she gave me her cold.”

Deserve your love and adoration. Right now. Stop looking at me like that.

Dylan.

Of course. How could I ignore him? His voice takes some getting used to, but his new album Modern Times has an upbeat, almost bluesy feel. I couldn’t avoid him when I went to Portsmouth, and ended up taking the album with me.

Best song of his, however, has to be the classic “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” The imagery… man, if I could write half as well, that descriptive writing A* would be in the bag.

I can’t really say much more on him.

Tom Paxton.

It’s a rumblin’ in the land! You can’t get much more perfect than the biting, cutting wit of Paxton, and the bittersweetness of “When Morning Breaks”.

Dad introduced me to him, and I was addicted on the spot. He regretted it, as I wouldn’t stop singing:

“Daddy’s taking me to the zoo tomorrow! Zoo tomorrow! Zoo tomorrow!”

Again…. and again… and again…

Simon (& Garfunkel).

Seperately, these two are beautiful - remember Bright Eyes? The only time I could stand rabbits. And Paul Simon does beautiful imagery in all his lyrics. But put them together and you’ve surely got a force for the good! Like Bob Dylan with a million times better tunes.

On The Side of a Hill isn’t one of their best known songs. But it’s the saddest, simplest thing I’ve ever heard. It is also important to note here that you get some very funny looks when singing “Cecilia” at the bus stop.

“MAKING LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON, OOOH, WITH CECILIA UP IN MY BEDROOM! OH, I GET UUUUP TO WASH MY FAAAACE, WHEN I COME BACK TO BED, SOMEONE’S TAKEN MY PLACE!”

You probably know one of their songs, even if you don’t realise it. Sound of Silence? Bridge over Troubled Water? I Am A Rock?

…No?

I despair of you. Never mind. Let’s try:

Rufus Wainwright.

He is very awesome, it’s true. Who else could possibly write a song called Gay Messiah and get away with it? He has folky influences, if not strictly folkrock in itself. So, so much better when he’s off the crystal meth… Want One: has there ever been a better case for musicians going through rehab? Absolute bohemian bliss.

Grey Gardens makes me tear up; Evil Angel freaks me out, and of course… his cover of Hallelujah.

Seriously.

Has a better song ever been recorded or indeed written? Possibly! WHO CARES, though?!

Steeleye Span.

GAUDETE, GAUDETE, CHRISTOS EST NATUS, EX MARIA VIRGINAE, GAUDETE!

Fairport Convention.

Liege and Lief is in fact the best folk-rock album EVER. All of it rocks, every little bit.

… Shut up, you don’t even know them.

That Guy from the Folk Club Who Sang ‘Will Ye Go To Flanders’ And Made Me Wail Like A Small Girl.

Anyone who says anything similar to “But Abbi, you are a small girl!” will be executed on sight.

I’d do some more, but it’s taken about three days to do this much, so… I also love Peter, Paul and Mary. Whether they’re manufactured or NOT.

My throat hurts and I think I’ve got a cold.

And I have Jimmy’s tie.

Abs x

“How about a game of Splong!TM, designed especially for the Mark 5? I have the batons right here. Or perhaps you would prefer the ever popular Guess My Weight In Pigs?”

Abs x

Muse on Sunday were, quite simply, fucking amazing.

I can think of no band I would rather, as Loup put it, have lost my ‘gig-virginity’ to. So… *lights up* Was it good for you too?

Holy hell. Got there, went to get food, got back. QUEUES ROUND TWO BLOCKS, I kid you not. Queued for… a surprisingly small amount of time, saw Jim’s old guitar teacher and nearly - NEARLY! - got tricked into going to the back of the queue by a small Welshman in a fluorescent coat. (Flee! Flee!)

Here is the queue, size of:

When we finally reached the door, another Welshman shouted that LADIES had to queue seperately. They were frisking everyone, saw I was young, and nodded that I could go past. I knew I was small for a reason. When we actually entered the hall, Jim bought stuff and we went off and went to find a place to stand.

We stood.

For ages.

Some really smelly girls came to stand behind us and talked loudly. Then some huge blokes stood in front of us, and I had to politely tap one on the shoulder and say “Fascinating though your back is, is there any chance you could please move a little to the right?” They didn’t knife me, which is always pleasant. Then the Noisettes came on and sang. They were… okay, I suppose. I don’t actually remember a thing about them.

Then we stood some more. Vertigo came on over the speakers, everyone went crazy, it went off, everyone went quiet again. Then, at 9.30…

The black curtain went down. MUSE were on stage. They launched into Knights of Cydonia.

IT WAS SERIOUSLY THE MOST FUCKING AWESOME NIGHT OF MY LIFE.

I have little else to say on it, except that it really was euphoric. Best gig ever. It just - guh.

GUH, I SAY!

Abs x

I think I would be an excellent politician, no? 

Abs x 

I have finished, yes, finished, my maths exams. This makes for me being happy.

2 DAYS TILL MUSE!

Right, right, okay. Otherwise there is little to say.

I’ll try to say something of import later.

Ooh. Except I’m thinking about running for Wiltshire Assembly of Youth. In the elections. Next year. To be elected. As a member.

Thoughts?

Abs x 

I’m going to get a D in Biology but I DON’T CARE. As if Biology matters to me when I have to revise for Maths and learn my lines for the Birthday Party. Go away, Badger.  I thought it was finished, I put a lot of work in, I didn’t understand, and it may have been crap, but I DON’T CARE AND DON’T HAVE TIME to finish it. So there we go. I’ll hand it in tomorrow and you can go ‘NYUH YOU SUXXORS’ as much as you like but I do not care one iota.

As may be obvious from the above, I care quite a bit.

My lip really hurts, and I can’t find the charger for my camera, and my MP3 player broke on the way home. Again.

BUT

I don’t think I failed Maths today, so everything is okay!

Aaaand I’m trying to do work and failing, because damnit I want to be celebrating!

Mediocrity blows, dude.

Abs x 

Online for the briefest of briefs, as I panic over the GCSE Maths exam that is happening TOMORROW HELLO PEOPLE WHY DO WE STILL HAVE HEADS?!

IN CASE YOU HADN’T GRASPED IT

MATHS IS HAPPENING

TOMORROW!

Yeah.

Having my hair cut tonight. Nothing drastic, just a trim. Then I will run around in circles, or ovals, or maybe right angled triangles which can be solved by either SOHCAHTOA or Pythagoras’ Theorem.

If only it was that simple.

Oh, wish me luck. Or just kill me now, by forcing me to bathe in hydrochloric acid. It’s less painful that way.

not squealing,

Abs x

Little or nothing is more dull than revising for maths.

With that in mind, today was fun. And Virtual Fish has been written, apparently. The rules of Fish go something like this:

Throw a stick into the water, shouting “FISH!” or some such thing.
Then Jimmy wins. Whether he’s playing or not. And now there’s a computerised version, thanks to Ben. This is beside the point, because:

WE RIDE WITH KINGS ON MIGHTY STEEDS ACROSS THE DEVIL’S PLAIN!

Tenacious D. The countdown to the PICK OF DESTINY has begun!

And what other countdown has begun, I hear you ask? Well…

I’m going to see Muse. In seven days.

SEVEN FUCKING DAYS!

YIPPEEE!

Abs x