tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20037672516136523592024-03-08T11:15:12.595+01:00Spontaneous Spewings of the MindLevihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-87065178439112733892012-04-02T23:35:00.004+02:002012-04-02T23:35:48.290+02:00RalphBack again, and since such a long time. I love how I keep forgetting about my blog, and coming back to it with renewed hopes, only to find myself in the same state of disappointment two months later. Nonetheless, here's a new short story I started working on. It's still in a very premature age, but I'd like to hear your thoughts on it. Now I know there are still mistakes in it, but I'm a very disorganized and young writer and I simply couldn't be bothered to go through it again. Shoot me.<br />
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ralph
peered through the mail slit in his front door as he tentatively caressed his
own left hand. It was an old habit he picked up during his junior years and
never felt the urge to unlearn. He enjoyed stroking the smooth skin on the back
of his hand as he gently fondled with the slender bones lying underneath. Sleek
streaks of cloud were lazily edging across the pale blue sky. The sun was high
in the sky, glaring down relentlessly on the already dehydrated earth. Everyone
apart from Ralph had their sprinklers out on the front lawn in a desperate
attempt to sooth the grass’s suffering. Ralph did not really care for grass.
Ralph did not really care for anything except for a few simple pleasures he
gained from life. One of these pleasures was spying on his neighbors through
the slot in his front door. <br />
Ralph lived in a two story suburban home his parents had once owned and in turn
passed along to their only child after being raped and murdered by a group of
black kids who were still in high-school. The boys were found at the scene of
the crime; however they were excused of the crime due to lack of evidence. So
is life. Ralph wasn’t really troubled by the turbulent string of events. It was
during a hot summer evening that he had heard the news. Two bulky police
officers with equally stern faces had visited Ralph’s residence to pass on the
terrible news. After patiently and rather peacefully hearing the two police
officers out, Ralph showed them the door, persistently reassuring them he was
going to be alright and that he needed time to think. The moment the two men
were squeezed out the door, Ralph ran upstairs to his parents’ bedroom,
undressing as he went along and letting his clothes lay where they fell. Once
in his parents’ bedroom he stood still in front of the closet mirror. There he
remained inspecting his own naked body and eventually losing himself in his own
eyes until six in the morning. That night Ralph was reborn.<br />
Ralph held no grudge against his parents’ murderers; in fact he was actually
quite glad they had freed him. Ralph’s parents had been role model parents,
providing their only son with a strict upbringing combined with much love and
affection. They had made sure Ralph did well at school and respected his
classmates. They had made sure Ralph got a job when he was fourteen so he could
earn his own spending money. They had provided him with good advice and
supported him in any way they saw fit. The only problem was that Ralph didn’t
need all these things. All Ralph really needed was to be free of any kind of
interference, so he could truly let his true personality come out and flourish.
<br />
Ralph’s parents had not only left him a house in a respectable neighborhood,
but they had left him with a generous fortune. The day after Ralph’s parents’
demise, Ralph stayed at home, where he would remain the rest of his life. Ralph
knew that the days following his parents’ death he would have to deal with
certain people in order to receive the money coming his way and he did see the
people he had to see, but only on his turf. Everyone, even the mortician, was
paid a wealthy sum to come visit Ralph at home to discuss the details. Within a
week every single matter had been dealt with and the funeral had been held.
Ralph insisted on having the funeral held in his own backyard. His money made
sure it happened. During the entire funeral Ralph had watched from the second
story bathroom window, silently stroking his left hand. <br />
Ralph still thought of all these things now as he peered through the mailbox.
He enjoyed pondering over the death of his parents. Even now, twenty-four years
after it had all happened. Sometimes the thought alone would bring tears of joy
to his eyes. Ralph’s vision was suddenly blocked out by a monstrous mouth lined
with jagged yellow teeth, and his hearing was deafened by the shrill bark of a
small dog. Ralph let a low guttural gurgling sound escape his mouth as he
stumbled back, falling on his naked buttocks. One of his nosey neighbors had
dropped by to check up on him, even though he had never opened his door for any
of his neighbors the last twenty-four years.<br />
“Ralph? Is that you? I know you’re there. I just heard you say something.
Betty! Down girl, down! Come on Ralph. It’s been an awful long time since anybody
has laid eyes on you. I can still remember what you looked like, but you must
have changed an awful lot. Is that what it is darling? Are you ashamed of the
way you look? You shouldn’t worry about such things darling. I’m sure you’re
still as handsome as you were, even though you are well into your forties by
now. God darnit Betty! Stay down! I know you don’t want to talk to any of us,
but I never thought you’d stay in there this long. I bet we could help you, if
only you just came out. Wouldn’t you just come out darling?”<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-63796062810640793372011-12-16T18:26:00.003+01:002011-12-16T18:27:10.053+01:00Along the forest trailDear readers,<br />
<br />
Yet again I fallen under school and work pressure, so that my blog has yet to be updated. Well I have a treat for you. I'll keep this intro very short so you can use your time to read the short story I have ready for you.<br />
<br />
Take a look at it and tell me what you think of it. I always enjoy reading your thoughts and ideas.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Along the forest trail</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New";"><br />
by Levi Blokdijk</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New";">William Swoon glanced
over his shoulder, keeping an eye on his nineteen year old brother, Patrick,
who was trotting along behind him. Usually, he would be walking beside him, his
hand holding that of his younger brother so that he would not wander off.
Shortly after birth Patrick had been diagnosed with a severe mental illness,
causing his, and especially William’s, everyday routine to be all but simple.
The only form of speech that Patrick was capable of was producing low guttural
grunting sounds that were nowhere near the sounds <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">normal </i>people made. He walked with a horrible limp, and could only
do so for a limited time before he tired out, and eventually just sat down on
the ground, moaning in a low whiney voice. To make his limp and possible
downtime worse was that Patrick had the strength and build of an ox. He stood
over two meters tall and had the shoulder width of a professional rugby player,
making it impossible to physically restrain him, or get him on the move again,
be it necessary. It was impossible to judge what was going on in Patrick’s
mind, only Patrick really knew, however doctors had given the Swoon family a
vague description what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">might</i> be going
on behind the twisted mask of confusion that Patrick had been wearing as a face
since the day he was born. The doctors suspected Patrick’s mind to be
functioning at the same level of a one year old baby. His state would not
improve, they could be positive about that much.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New";">These attributes
added up to a task only an elder brother could handle, or at least that’s what
William’s parents liked to think. The prominent problem with Patrick was that
once he set his mind on something, there was no stopping him. After years of
guiding his brother around the neighborhood, bringing him places and just keeping
an eye on him at all times, William had discovered the trick to keep his
brother calm and collected was to simply prevent anything from happening before
it had to start in the first place. If William noticed a large puddle his
brother would most likely start rolling in, he would steer them in another
direction far before his hind sighted companion would notice. If William
registered a kid playing with a brightly colored ball, he would distract
Patrick with a biscuit, or any other treat he had on him. William always
ensured that he left the house with a pocket full of goodies for Patrick.<br />
<br />
They were strolling along a narrow
forest path, which was barely wide enough for one person, let alone two, which
ran through the large area of woods behind their house. The two young men were
on their way to their grandmother’s, as they always did on Wednesdays. Their
grandmother, still quite youthful, took over William’s responsibilities for a
few hours every Wednesday afternoon. What made the deal exceedingly prosperous
was that their dear grandmother took over William’s task every Wednesday of the
year, without exception, for as long as William could recall. Because William
had guided his brother along the path countless times before, the journey was slightly
less stressful. William didn’t suspect his brother of being capable of
recognizing things or buildings, but he had a feeling Patrick felt more
comfortable in the forest, where there were hardly any people to distract him.
It was a warm mid-summer morning and sunlight was pouring through the treetops,
creating a similar effect to that of a disco ball. Patrick was overwhelmed, his
usual vacant eyes now bursting with life as they darted all over the forest
floor, obviously intrigued by the millions of spots of light that danced on the
forest floor. The distraction caused Patrick to slow his pace, so William stopped,
maneuvered around Patrick, and starting walking behind him so that he could
gently nudge his brother along the path. It took Patrick some getting used to –
he kept peering over his shoulder with a profound look of disbelief on his
face. Each time William urged his brother along, Patrick would respond with a
nasal grunt. William knew, from previous adventures, that Patrick didn’t really
mind, but that he was just playing with him. He could see the smirk on his
brother’s face each time he turned his head. <br />
<br />
The young men were in a hurry, well,
William was in a hurry. Patrick was never in a hurry for anything. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why should he be?</i> William thought to
himself as he looked at his watch. It was already close to quarter past eleven
in the morning, and there grandmother was expecting them at noon. The journey
took them a bit over two hours, if all went well that is, and they had left at
ten in the morning. William didn’t enjoy being late for his weekly appointments
with his grandmother, because every minute he was late was deducted from his
alone time. And every minute of William’s alone time was vital to his sanity.
William wasn’t fond of hurrying his brother along, but if it meant he could
spend time alone, then it had to be done. Another thing William didn’t like was
thinking of his brother as a burden, but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself
from labeling his brother that way. The idea would just slip into thought from
time to time, and there was nothing William could do about it. <br />
<br />
Deep in thought, William pushed
Patrick a trifle too hard just as Patrick was stepping over a root protruding
from the damp earth. Patrick started to fall face forward to the ground, his
arms swaying back and forth like a cartoon character would swing their arms
when on a ledge. William reached out to grab his brother, only succeeding in
lightly grazing Patrick’s shoulder as he fell forward. There was a thud and
Patrick lay sprawled, face first in the dirt. The momentary freeze of William’s
thoughts was accompanied by the physical barrier to move. For a brief moment he
felt utterly terrified, unable to apprehend what had just happened. The hope of
ever arriving on time had been shattered by his absent-mindedness. He felt the
bonds loosen and he knelt beside his immobile brother. By now he should already
be squealing like a pig William thought to himself, but Patrick was strictly silent.
He didn’t make any sound at all. William gently placed his hand on Patrick’s
left shoulder. ‘Patrick, hey Patrick’ William whispered. Nothing. ‘Patrick,
come on, is everything alright?’ He knew Patrick couldn’t understand what he
was saying, but the way he said things could soothe Patrick from time to time,
just like the words of a trained dog owner could calm down a dog. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Was he unconscious? Was it a game he is
playing? Is he going to hit me?</i> The different scenarios rushed through his
head as he kept trying to roll his brother’s massive body over on to his
side. <br />
His brother’s face started moving. He was slowly moving his head around so that
he could look at his brother William. His nose was bleeding and his face was
caked in mud. William could see small pools of tears forming in the corners of
Patrick’s eyes. He was now completely sure they wouldn’t make it on time, they
would probably arrive two hours late. A sharp feeling of dread grabbed hold of
him.<br />
‘Don’t worry William, everything will be alright in the morning,’ Patrick said
in a completely normal matter-of-fact voice.<br />
Alarm bells went off in William’s head. It felt as if his head was going to
explode into a million pieces. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What had
just happened?</i><br />
‘P-p-patrick, w-w-what d-d-id you j-j-just say?’ No response. ‘Patrick, did
y-y-you j-j-just say? If you c-c-can, do it again!’ squawked Patrick, his voice
rising as he ended his last sentence. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patrick
had never in his life spoken a single word, and now he had managed to produce a
perfectly clear sentence. This might change everything. Maybe Patrick could be
taught to learn how to speak. Maybe there was a certain way of activating
Patrick’s brain, making him capable of doing all kinds of things. Maybe I could
be the one to teach him, I mean, why not? </i>William’s thoughts were running
wild again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No time to stay put here
thinking about all of this. </i>William would have hours to figure everything
out, as long as he got Patrick to his grandmother’s house. He managed to get a
grip on himself and started to yank on Patrick’s arm, which didn’t prove to be
necessary. Patrick had already started to get up on his own. At first he just
stood there, staring at the dirt on his clothes, arms and legs. Then, after
grinning at William he headed down the forest trail they were on. William
needn’t have said anything to get him going. He had done it all by himself. This
was another thing that struck William as unbelievable, but he was keeping his
thoughts under control, knowing that his mind would be clearer and more capable
of thinking about everything when he was alone. William followed his brother
down the path, feeling a new man. <br />
The pace they were walking at had improved immensely during the following ten
minutes. Patrick’s usual over obvious limp was now hardly noticeable. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Am I imagining all of this, or is it really
happening? Nah, it can’t be. I clearly heard what he said, and now it’s even
like he never had a limp. What a miracle.</i> William could feel his thoughts
wandering, although he knew he should just stick to the task at hand. The thing
was that Patrick was making his task so much easier now that his thoughts could
roam freely, to a certain extent. Patrick didn’t seem to be distracted by all
the different plants around him, nor did he seem bothered by the sharp light
that was still falling on the forest floor.<br />
It was now a quarter to twelve and they were within a short distance of their
grandmother’s house, and the end of the forest. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Soon we will be home. Soon I be alone. What? That doesn’t make any
sense. It must be all of the action. Action man, yeah those were wicked. Stop
it. </i>William’s thoughts felt like they were falling apart, as if his mind
was on an expedition, exploring itself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stop
it, damn you. We have to reach grandmothers. Then you can think. Focus. </i>He
managed to silence his thoughts, focusing on the back of his brother’s head.
Minutes later they started up again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sunlight
good. Very good. What? Butterfly! Butterfly! Fly on the air. What’s happening?
Leaves… leaves… leaves the head. Stop it! </i>William had started shaking. He
had a very bad feeling about all of this, as if his whole world was morphing
around him and there was no possible way to stop it. His feet kept doing their
work though. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make it to grandmothers.
Everything be alright. Perfectly fine. Yes. Yhhheeesssssssssssss. STOP IT! </i>The
distance started becoming larger and larger between the two young men.
William’s feet had started to feel alien, as if he wasn’t the one giving them
the messages to do what they were doing. As he looked down at his feet he could
see his light foot slightly turned inwards, making it more difficult for him to
keep up. From his feet, he peered up at Patrick, who was now at least ten
meters away. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Slow down. Downwards.
Stairs. Hairs. Pairs. Wow! Rabbit! Ha-ha! Rabbit go bounce bounce.</i> William
stopped dead on the path, staring at a brownish rabbit which was bouncing along
parallel to the forest path. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patrick
ahead. Moving away. Rabbit. Fur. Bouncy. Must catch it. Play with it. NO!
Follow brother! Make grandmadders houws. Catch up to bradah. </i>William’s eyes
were darting between his brother and the rabbit. A warm sweat had broken out
all over his body, drenching him. Patrick was now already out of the forest.
William could see that he had stopped. His face, barely visible, pointed straight
at him. William had stopped looking at the rabbit, now drawn towards his
brother’s eerie gaze. Patrick was smiling. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bastard.
Help me. I wwwant ouwt of this. Help. Help. Help meeee Patwick. </i>William
collapsed to his knees, still only capable of looking directly at his brother’s
face. Only seeing the smirk little smile on his face. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gawd Paaattricckkkkk… helppppppp… miiiiii… Mi no undrrrstaanndd. </i>William
collapsed on his side. The sight of Patrick’s awkward smile still burnt into
his membrane as he slowly closed his eyes. And then everything went black.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New";">Patrick woke up in a hospital bed. He had had a very
vivid dream, but he had already forgotten nearly almost everything. His head
lulled to the right and he tried to bring his left arm up to his mouth, which
were dry, but found out that it was impossible. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Duhhhmmm ugh ugh. </i>He thought as his vigorously tried to move his
arms, and then his legs. Sparks were going off in his head, sparks being
sparks, for they could not be called thoughts. Impulses would be a better word
for them. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Duuhhmm durr arrhh ugh</i>. <br />
‘Ah, good, you’re awake. We were afraid you wouldn’t wake up. See, you’ve been
asleep for over two days. Your parents have already gone home,’ said the doctor
standing next to Patrick’s bed. He was wearing a long white coat, with his
credentials on a simple plastic card which was stuck to his coat pocket. He was
holding a clipboard with all of Patrick’s specifics on it. <br />
‘Urgh! Durmmm! Bluuhhh!’ proclaimed Patrick, now looking up at this new figure.<br />
‘Well, I’m afraid actual speech will be impossible Patrick. Personally, I don’t
think it will be any use telling you what happened, but your parents insisted
on me telling you about what happened three days ago, and I am a man of my
word. Now, listen, or just lay there, and I’ll tell you what happened.’<br />
‘Ugh? Graghhh’ <br />
‘Three days ago, you and your brother William were walking through the forest
directly behind your house. Both of you were on one of your usual trips to your
grandmother. Halfway along the path something happened, well, something
triggered you to do something. Something horrible. Apparently, you had picked
up an awful large rock and you proceeded to cave in your brother´s head with it.
You murdered your brother, Patrick. A hiker found the two of you, both covered
in blood. Your brother was lying face down in the dirt. You were lying next to
him, on your back. Your entire arms were covered in blood and you had them
behind your behind. The person who found you said that there was a strange
smile on your face, and the police confirmed this when they arrived at the
scene. After examining you at a hospital, the doctors concluded that you had no
physical damage on your person, and thus sent you here. Your new home. Now, I
know you don´t understand, or probably don´t even remember doing it, but as I
said before; your parents insisted on having me tell you what had happened.’ <br />
‘Uhgh mmmrrr’ <br />
‘Now, I’ll be back later. I see that you are still a bit weary. Goodbye for now
Patrick’ the doctor finished. He replaced the clipboard and swiftly left the
room, leaving Patrick staring at the ceiling with the corners of his mouth
trembling, as if he were trying to hold back a smile. </span></div>Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-90901285966672193092011-10-08T22:24:00.000+02:002011-10-08T22:24:54.919+02:00My absenceDear readers,<br />
<br />
During the last months I have been busy teaching, working, attending classes, and various other daily tasks. What makes my current situation all the more frustrating, one of my various college classes has forced me to create a second blog - one I post journalistic pieces on, which I am required to do for class. This has caused the current neglect I am treating my blog with.<br />
<br />
I still enthusiastically write fiction, and this seems to be the only place I can truly put it out there for others to read. In the time of my absence I have written a few short stories. Some better than others, but that's hardly relevant. I will post these stories shortly, and various journalistic articles for the people interested.<br />
<br />
Point is: I'm incredibly lazy, and it's something I plan to work. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll descent into madness, brought on by a profound feeling of self dissatisfaction.<br />
<br />
Be patient and you'll all have something to read during the upcoming days.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-47788286479375983742011-05-07T14:34:00.000+02:002011-05-07T14:36:26.397+02:00Quick intro for my new novel (if I ever get enough time to really start on it)<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New";">My name is Thom Greenson, and I have found reason to start the telling of my tale, if I were to be bold enough to call it a tale. There is no specific reason for me to even be telling it in the first place, nether the less I feel the urge to do so. Listen, if you will, to the story I have to tell. <br />
I am currently twenty-four years old. Most people would call me a young man in the prime time of his life. Time seems elastic and everlasting; for me there is no end in any near future. The days drift by, leaving me with nothing more than mere memories, for there is many a day to dawn, and possibilities are endless. Why dwindle on the past when anything could happen the next day? Carefree one might say, but that isn’t quite precisely how I would describe it. My life is different. The memories of past events come back each day to haunt me, sometimes leaving me clueless, filling my mind with despair, trying to figure a way out. I remember things being different, when I was a younger man. Recollecting the exact age is difficult. Things seemed to change so swiftly, it was like somebody had pressed the fast forward button on the remote control of my life, fast forwarding it to current time. I can watch the film, an autobiographical film, but all the frames, my memories, are sped up. Pinpointing an exact date for when things started going wrong would truly be an impossible task. <br />
To tell a tale, one must start somewhere, otherwise the tale wouldn’t ever be able to be started. Therefore, my tale starts at home, or what was home at the time being, when I was a young twelve years old. My parents and I were living in a two bedroom apartment in a town called Brigdeton. It was a small town, with no more than five hundred inhabitants. We lived in a house above the local, and only, grocers. Mornings were accompanied by the strong scent of baked bread. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><br />
Thom's tale will be about all of the frustrations of teenage life, and certain events in his life that have had a largely negative effect on his life.<br />
<br />
Let me know what you think, and whether or not I should continue along this line of thought. I have left it in it's true form, without correcting any mistakes. I just want to give you guys a general idea of what I'm working on. I'll be posting my other idea for a story soon.</div>Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-35916223930103499392011-04-27T14:32:00.000+02:002011-04-27T14:32:23.523+02:00The sad story of a writerSpring has just hit the Western shore of Europe. The days are long, and filled with a lot of drinking and smoking. The wonderful weather combined with a ton of school work has left me with very little time to work on my blog. I'm very sad to be saying this, for one of the things I love most is writing. Whether it be horrible, bad, or even good at times, I enjoy it. I have been working on a novel believe it or not, so I will hopefully be posting the first chapter of it soon. Now, I know some people wanted to read the second part of 'Desert Tales' and I will be finishing it some time soon, I just don't want to give myself a deadline for it. I more or less just lost interest, which is a shame. However, I WILL finish it.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-46570020452645999342011-04-11T13:19:00.000+02:002011-04-11T13:19:01.062+02:00DelayedHello followers,<br />
<br />
Circumstances have delayed my continueing of 'Desert Tales'. I have been pre-occupied doing a lot of school work and regular work to pay the bills. The second part of my 'Desert Tales' should be out by the end of this week. I hope you can all wait!Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-30459230615425757042011-04-07T13:21:00.000+02:002011-04-07T21:38:14.854+02:00Desert talesThe long stretch of desert highway was covered in sand. The wind was sweeping it up, playing with it, and then letting it fall in what looked like a pre-decided pattern. I had been staring at the same desert wasteland for hours, and I had fallen into a trance. It was as if I wasn't perceiving everything that was in my line of vision. My thoughts were wondering off like children after a hectic day at school. I just couldn't follow any line of thought. I was very much aware of my grave situation. The problem was that I just couldn't care about it. I remember feeling this way when I was a small child. It was as if my body and mind just had enough of a certain situation and therefore decided to stop functioning. There were times I thought I'd never come back from this state of being. The actual thought usually awoke me though. It wasn't working now. I felt I was getting close to a panic attack, but I still didn't move or start thinking about a solution.<br />
<br />
Reese had been a good friend of mine for as long as I can remember. I remember going to primary school, teasing girls and licking at dripping ice creams. I remember skipping high school to go out back and smoke some of Reese's cigarettes he had nicked from his mother. I remember our last day at high school. I remember Reese's first, and last, girlfriend. I remember a lot of things, but not how long I had actually known the guy. Quite funny really thinking about how long I had known Reese while his corpse was rotting on the same desert highway I was standing on. His shirt had been torn off and I could see the fresh wounds on his upper body. The flesh hadn't started rotting yet, but in this horrid desert climate, it would start rotting sooner before later. The only piece of clothing they had left on him were his boxer shorts, which were stained with all the bodily fluids a post-graduate could imagine. He was lying face down on the road, his long sandy hair scattered across his sun tanned neck. His blood had dried within an hour, and flies were now drinking up the small puddles that were still relatively liquid. <br />
<br />
I had just sobbed for the first hour. After that I just stood there, staring my Reese's corpse. I just couldn't take my eyes off him. The was completely indulged by the horrific scene and I wanted to punch myself in the face for it. Here I was, staring at my friend's lifeless body and I was actually interested by it. I was startled by the, what seemed to me like, sudden setting of the sun and I snapped out of my trance from hell. At first I just glanced around me. Then I started to think. There was nobody to be seen close to my position. No cars had passes in what had to be hours. Resources were minimal. My throat had been parched by the relentless sun. I greedily grabbed my canteen and gulped it down. I started to feel a bit better, then I realized that was the last of my water and my mood sank to an even lower point. I checked the contents of my pockets. I was carrying a cell phone that had no battery connected, two lighters, some loose change and a pocket knife. I discarded the change and pocketed the rest of my belongings.<br />
<br />
Reese only weighed about eighty-five kilograms, but hauling his body to the side of the road felt like a whole day's hard work. I knew the right thing to do would be to bury him, but I also knew that it would cost me another hour or two. I needed to get out of this place as soon as possible. I had stayed far too long. Religion hadn't been something Reese, nor I, had ever cared about, so I just gave his body - which was now face up - one last look and then I started heading east. Following the highway would be a foolish thing to do, so I veered off and walked through the rough sand instead. I did want to keep the highway in my sights, so that I could spot any oncoming traffic. I couldn't care about what was coming from the west, because what I was looking for had headed east.<br />
<br />
The desert had starting cooling off after the sun had set. My flannel shirt and jeans would keep me warm enough for the coming hours, but I wasn't very sure I would manage so well in my current gear closer to midnight. The wind had picked up, which meant my tracks were being covered by a fresh layer of sand. I had this much going for me. Walking in the desert had worn me out. My body was starting to ache all over. The horizon hadn't changed. There were small bushes throughout the desert, with the scarce small tree. How they survived in this god forsaken climate, I have no idea. Apart from the minimal vegetation, there wasn't much to see. Except there was something to see. About five kilometres in the distance I could see a cloud of sand lifting. A few moments later I could hear the roar of a V8 engine. Something had discoursed from the road and was heading in my direction. I froze, and my mind started racing. They had seen me, there was no other possibility, they must have. Time appeared to slow and I was in an enlightened consciousness. There was nothing on my left, and on my right it wasn't much better. The only cover I could find was a strange rock formation about two-hundred metres to my right. Without hesitation I bolted for the rocks. The sound of the car's engine was growing dramatically louder. All the sounds in the desert seemed to be amplified by the lack of natural sound. It was a pick-up truck - the same pick-up they had brought me and Reese out into the desert with - and three men were standing in the back of the truck. Before I realized what they were holding, they opened fire. The roars of their semi-automatic rifles was deafening. Rocks near my feet exploded into a thousand bits and the dust flew in my face. When I fell to the ground, it felt like something had grabbed my leg and pulled it from underneath me. A pang of pain forced its way up my left arm and I tried to scream, only my throat was too dry to create the right sound, and my scream came out like the cry of an infant. There was a tremendous burst of sound just above my right ear and I was sure my eardrums had popped like freshly baked popcorn. My vision was filled with what looked like chimney smoke, and then it filled with a fabulous bright orangey-red colour. When the smoke lifted, there was no pick-up truck to be seen. What had replaced the truck, at three-hundred metres, was one of the best things I had ever seen. The best way to describe what I saw was to compare it to a plain crash. There was a large hunk of twisted and scorched metal. Scattered around the hulk were smaller bits of metal. The only colour I could make out besides the dark colour of scorched metal was red, the colour of flames and bloody human flesh. That was the last thing I saw before everything went black.<br />
<br />
I had awoken from what felt like the worst dream I'd ever had. I tried to open my eyes, but everything stayed dark. My nostrils flared and I could smell something that was like a mixture of wet fur and rotten meat. The place I was lying in smelled of decay. My vision was severely impaired by the lack of light. There was a dirty mattress beneath me and a glass of, what looked like, clean water. I gulped it down and got to my feet. I hit my head on the ceiling of what seemed to be a cave of some sorts. Whilst I stood there cursing, a door opened and light burst its way into the dark and damp cave. There was a silhouette of a man standing in the doorway.<br />
"Follow me if you want your revenge," grunted the man. He then turned around and walked back outside. Who was this man and how did he know I was after revenge? Had he seen what had happened? Was he the one who had saved me? These were all questions I asked myself, despite already knowing the answers. Sometimes intuition was too strong to be ignored. I vaguely recognised the man as well, which made the whole situation even more abstract. The man had saved my life, so I might as well do as he says I thought to myself as I walked towards the door.<br />
<br />
When I stepped outside the desert sun hit me like a freight train. I had been out for at least one whole night. This was bad, very bad. The man who had presumably saved my life was sitting on a chair smoking a cigarette. He looked as if he didn't care about his surroundings, and that sitting in the middle of a desert was the most casual thing to do.<br />
"W-wh-who are you?" I uttered. He turned around and stared at me. "You know who I am lad." He was telling the truth. I knew exactly who he was. He was the one responsible for Reese's death. I broke out in an intense sweat. My arms and legs started shaking, I wasn't sure how long I'd still be able to stand. I'm done for, I thought to myself. This is the end.<br />
"I'm sorry for what I did to your friend, but you have to understand if I didn't do it then they'd just kill your friend themselves after finishing me off. I had to do it. At the same moment, I did come to my senses and I started planning the plan I've recently set in motion. I'm planning on taking them bastards out, every single one of them, before they can continue what they're doing, and you're going to help me. That is, if you want to of course." He had said this in a voice that was not quite a whisper. I resented the man in front of me for what he had done to my best friend. I did believe every word of his story though. It was one of those clear moments when you are just one-hundred percent positive that somebody is telling the truth.<br />
"I could tell you more about how I ended up joining the guys you've previously met, but that would just be wasting more precious time we do not have. Do you understand?"<br />
"Yeah, I g-g-guess so." My voice still hadn't fully recovered and I couldn't help coming across has a stupid kid.<br />
"Ok, first things first. Let's get armed, then we're heading off east. Follow me."<br />
<br />
To be continued...Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-35217666114545657972011-03-31T14:30:00.000+02:002011-04-03T23:15:13.719+02:00The way homeThe sun was rising over the tall buildings to the east. I could not only feel the morning dew now, but I could see the drops sparkling in the morning sun. Everything felt fresh and alive, and the smell was only sickening me. I had been out drinking with a few friends of mine the night before. We had camped in the same patch of woods I was now sitting in. We had come out here in three different cars. There was only one car left now. And I was the only person left. My friends had decided to go into town at around two a.m. I didn't feel the same urge to go as they did. I was enjoying myself out here in the woods. They had taken most of the booze and left me with a six pack. It was all right though, because by the time they had left I was already quite drunk. The reason I felt so depressed wasn't that my friends had left me alone here in the woods, it was because I knew I had to go home eventually, and explain myself to my parents. So, I was just sitting here. Sobering up and thinking about what I was going to say to my parents. I didn't want to show up very early, although I wanted to be home before dinner. Dinner time usually calms a family down, or at least I think so.<br />
I hadn't gotten any sleep but I wasn't feeling too bad. My shirt smelled of sweat and my shoes were destroyed. I vaguely remember crawling over a rocky outcrop a bit further up the hill. Back then I had still been enjoying myself. In general, a twenty-two year old should have no problems coming home drunk, or after a night of drinking, but with my parents it was different story. My father had been an alcoholic two thirds of his life and he had finally managed to sober up. And once he was sober he even took up a religion. My mother was very pleased, because she did not have to take all the crap my father would give her when he was drunk. I think I preferred my dad being a raging drunk. That way he used to leave me alone and let me do whatever I want. Now, the only thing that gets him going is when he hears about me drinking alcohol. And, of course he would find out about tonight. I had spilt beer in his car, I had been up the whole night and he knew I was going out with friends. <br />
It was approximately 9 a.m. now and I felt like getting out of this place. I removed all the empty bottles from my father's car and got in. At first I just sat there, thinking about where I should go, then after five or ten minutes I started the engine and drove off. I was heading for a park I knew. A lot of good looking women walk through there on their way to university or whatever. It didn't take me very long to get there, traffic was light. I parked the car in a abandoned car park behind some office buildings and walked around to the park. On the way I stopped at a newsagent's to pick up some cigarettes. I then proceeded to the park. I looked at my watch and saw that it was close to ten a.m. Once I entered the park I bought a hot-dog from a vendor and found myself a nice bench to sit down on. I wasn't a very big park, but there was a pond in the centre, which was a very nice touch. There were ducks in the pond. There were three or four trees I could see and about a dozen benches like the one I was sitting on. The park was full of people going to work or school. I have no idea why it was so busy at ten in the morning. Maybe because it was Friday, I don't know. The first five minutes sitting on the couch I devoted to eating my hot-dog and smoking a cigarette. <br />
An old lady interrupted my peace. "You shouldn't be doing that young man, it's bad for your health!" said the old lady. She was wearing a dress that looked like it was as old as she was. Her hair was long, and I could see bare patches on her head where there was no hair at all. Despite her ragged looks, she did come over as a nice enough person.<br />
"I know ma'am, but I enjoy them nonetheless. Didn't you smoke when you were young?"<br />
"In my day, everybody smoked. But those were different times young man. You should know better."<br />
"I know."<br />
"Well it doesn't matter. You should do whatever pleases you. Young people these days!"<br />
"Thanks for the advice though, I know I should stop eventually. But I can't really commit myself to quitting. And plus, I've got other things on my mind at the moment."<br />
"Young people these days..." And she just walked off.<br />
I had no idea why I had just said so much. Usually I don't have much patience with old people, but I thought, as long as I'm buying time I might as well talk to people. And what I had said was true. I did have other things on my mind. <br />
I sat there smoking for another two hours. Nobody else had bothered talking to me in that time. I had seen a few good looking women though. I had dropped out of university myself just a few months ago. I couldn't really adapt to the whole lifestyle, or it might just have been a bad choice of majors. I don't know really, all I can remember is just hating the place. I'd rather be doing a thousand other things than going to school. It was close to midday now and I wanted to do something else. I didn't want to go home yet, but I wanted to do something else. I had made up my mind on what time to arrive home, and I still had a good three hours left before I even had to start heading home. I used the public toilet building adjunct to the park and then headed back to my father's car. <br />
I unlocked the car and got it. I found my cellphone on the floor and picked it up. I had missed twelve phone calls and I had about twice the number of unread messages. I really hate cellphones to be honest. Sure, they're handy from time to time when you want to get together with friends, but usually I was just annoyed by how it was interfere with things I was doing. Most of the time I just enjoyed be left alone. I threw my cellphone on the back seat and turned on the radio. The first station I chose was playing an awful song by Katy Perry so I changed the station. I had to change the station four times before I got something decent. It was a station playing The Doors and my mood slightly improved. I started the engine and drove off. I wanted to go to the beach and just hang around there before I had to head home. I could use some nice fresh salty air.<br />
Whilst I was on my way to the beach, Neil Young was interrupted by a special broadcast. It was something about a family of three being shot dead during a burglary. I didn't want to hear any bad news so I just turned the radio off. It was close to one o'clock when I reached the beach. It was a pleasant enough day, but not really beach weather, so the beach was more or less deserted. I parked the car and headed towards the board-walk. I walked along the board-walk until I couldn't see any buildings any more. I took off my shoes and left them on the board-walk. I wanted to feel the sand between my toes. I found a nice little spot close to the shore line and sat down. I lit another cigarette. In the distance I could see a figure walking towards me. It was a person with a dog. When the figure came into range I could make out more details. It was a middle-aged woman. She didn't look too bad for her age. When she walked by me, her dog started sniffing at my feet.<br />
"Sorry about that. He can never help himself," she said.<br />
"Don't worry about it."<br />
"What are you doing out here alone young man? If you don't mind me asking that is."<br />
"Oh, not much really. I just don't want to go home right now."<br />
"I know what you mean. It's a lovely day isn't it?"<br />
"Yeah, it's great."<br />
"Mind if I sit with you?"<br />
I didn't mind at all. Up close she was quite attractive and she had some of the best tits I had seen the whole day. She was wearing a simple t-shirt with a sports bra underneath. She also had some denim hot pants on. Her legs were great as well. <br />
"Go ahead," I replied.<br />
She sat down next to me. Her dog had wondered off towards the beach. She started fiddling with the sand between her legs.<br />
"Would you like one?" I asked whilst holding out my pack of cigarettes.<br />
"Sure, it's been years since I've smoked. But I feel like having one right now." she replied.<br />
After smoking in silence she made her move.<br />
"So, since you've given my something. Maybe I should return the favour."<br />
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought to myself that this kind of thing only happens in films or books.<br />
"What do you have to offer?" I stammered.<br />
She then took of her shirt and bra, revealing some great tits. She then bent over and unzipped my pants. I could go into more detail, but the bottom line is that my mood was lifted to a point I never thought it would reach today. After doing the deed we said goodbye and both went our own ways. I was one lucky bastard. Nothing could bring me down after what had just happened so I headed towards the car. It was close to three o'clock now, so I headed home. The trip seemed very short, and I was probably grinning the whole way home. I still couldn't really believe what had just happened, but I rarely felt so happy. I was still grinning when I turned my car into my street. I was still grinning when I drove by a group of people all huddled together deep in conversation. I was still grinning when I drove by my neighbour's house. I stopped grinning when I stopped in front of my own house. Our yard was taped off with yellow police tape. Now, telling my parents about drinking the previous night was the last thing on my mind.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-13062524469237532492011-03-28T17:16:00.000+02:002011-03-29T01:49:19.668+02:00ShortsHello there. For years now I have been practicing writing and I would like to share some of it with you guys out there. I will be writing some short stories on my blog for all of you to enjoy. Feel free to leave criticism or comments.<br />
<br />
The breeze sure was welcome. The last few days had been so hot, it was very difficult to keep my clothes dry from sweat. Even the slightest movement drenched my clothes in sweat. It was all right now though. I was sitting under a tree reading a brand new copy of 'People' magazine. It's not that I like the magazine, but it was the only thing I could find in my stepfather's caravan. I was staying with him and my mother for the weekend. My stepfather was al lright, I guess, but what really bothered me was I couldn't really talk to him. He always treats me like as if I was a ten year old. I'm actually twenty-three years old, and the only reason why I'm still living with one of my parents is that I just got back from a two year trip around Africa. <br />
After reading in the magazine for about five minutes I was already sick of it, and I started playing in the dirt with a stick. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular when I was approached by a young girl. I only noticed her when she blocked out the sun with her body. I looked up at her and she simply just stood there for a good minute or two. After our strange staring contest I broke the silence. "Hello?" <br />
"What are you doing?" asked the girl. She was about eight years old, and she was sporting a queer little smile which made me quite uncomfortable. "I'm trying to stay out of the sun, that's all really", I replied. "What are you doing out her? Shouldn't you be at school?"<br />
"It's summer holiday silly. I don't have school right now". She was right of course. I hadn't gone to school for at least three years and I had no idea when the summer holidays started or ended. <br />
"You'll have to excuse me. I had no idea you kids were already on your summer holidays. I'm Jeremy, what's your name kid?" After asking my question she just ran off. I just sat there, dumbstruck, watching her run off towards the trailer park. After she disappeared I couldn't stop thinking about why she would run off like that. After giving myself five minutes to think about it, I dismissed it as a kid just being a kid. I can't remember how I thought when I was a kid, so I guess this was the best I could do. I rummaged in my pockets and came out with about seven bucks in small change. I counted it twice and then stored it back in the front pocket of my jeans. I stood up, leaving the magazine under the tree, and headed towards the town centre. I hadn't smoked in two years, but I could really use a cigarette now. I had been without work for two weeks and I hadn't been doing much. I needed a distraction.<br />
It took me no longer than an hour to reach the place I was going to. The afternoon was coming to an end, and so was the insane heat. I had started sweating like a madman, but I felt OK. I was still confused about the young girl, although it wasn't bothering me as much as it did when it had just happened. I went into the corner shop and bought myself a pack of luckies. The guy behind the counter was a real prick, and he showed completely no interest in me, but it didn't bother me too much. After buying my cigarettes I went out front and took one out. I lit my cigarette and sat down on one of the benches in front of the shop. I sat there smoking cigarettes for a while, admiring the street. The town centre wasn't very big, but it had the necessary things. A barber, a small groceries, a tuck shop, a jewellers and several other small businesses. The town centre really was only a single street with a few alleyways.It was never very busy either, which made hanging around quite peaceful. After I'd smoked two cigarettes an old lady walked by. She was talking to herself and I was praying to god, although I don't believe in god, that she was pass me by without trying to start a conversation. I was lucky and she just mumbled by, lost in her own world. <br />
Moments later, I saw the kid I met by the tree. She was standing across the street in the entrance of an alleyway next to a sports shop. She was staring at me again. After making sure she was looking at me I decided to go over to her. I crossed the street and just before I came in talking range she bolted in the alleyway. I started after her in a slow jog. Not really knowing why I was following her. It made me feel like Alice following the rabbit. Once I was in the alleyway, she was nowhere to be seen. I walked to the end of the alleyway, which came out on another street that was parallel to the street all the shops were on. The buildings on this street were all co-op houses. The young girl was standing on my side of the side-walk. <br />
"What's up kid?" I asked her, and all she did was giggle. <br />
She turned, and without looking, she started to cross the street. Before I even fully registered her displeasing giggle, the young girl was smashed to bits by a speeding pick-up truck. I instantly knew she hadn't survived the accident. A lot of people say that when they've experienced something terrifying, they just freeze. This didn't happen to me. I walked up to the spot where the pick-up had finally stopped. I went around the front to take a look at the damage, at this point I wasn't really thinking at all. It was as if my body was functioning on its own. The car itself had only a mildly damaged fender. Bits of hair, skin, clothing and bone clung to the most damaged part of the car. The amount of blood was not near as much as I would have expected, but nonetheless, the picture was pretty gruesome. The corpse, for it was most definitely a corpse, was completely unrecognisable. I remember just standing there, staring at what was left of the kid, just as she was staring at me the first time we met. <br />
I don't think I will ever completely understand what had happened that day, but I'll never be able to stare at a kid again.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-61130632288791237952011-03-25T02:17:00.000+01:002011-03-25T02:28:55.808+01:00Some screenplay writing<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Hey there guys. I have been working on a screenplay idea with a friend of mine and I really wanted to get your opinion on what we have written so far. It is a bit old, and I doubt we are going to continue with it. I just thought you guys might be interested in it. Before ever completing a script I would like to do more of these short bits. Leave any tips you have for better scripts. Oh, and because I copied the piece, the whole format has changed. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Julius Bakker</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Screenplay by Niels Greven & Levi Blokdijk</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">2010 Draft</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" /> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">FADE IN:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">INT. BAKKER’S HOUSE – JULIUS’ BEDROOM – EARLY AFTERNOON</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The room is messy. Clothes lay scattered around the room. Wardrobe, computer and an average sized TV are present. A young man is lying in bed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We’re watching JULIUS wake up. He picks up a t-shirt laying on the floor and puts it on. He sips water from a plastic bottle and then slowly walks towards his window. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS (V.O.)<br />
It’s hard to say when it all began,<br />
but if somebody would ask me to start<br />
somewhere, today would be the day.<br />
Not that I knew it at this moment,<br />
but I would find out soon enough.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
JULIUS opens his curtains and finds a pack of rolling tobacco. He plucks a rolling paper and starts to roll a cigarette. Whilst rolling his cigarette he stares out of his window enjoying the view of his average American neighborhood. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS (V.O.) (CONT’D)<br />
My power obsessed dad thought it would<br />
be a good idea to name me after somebody<br />
that had achieved greatness in the hope<br />
I would follow in that person’s footsteps.<br />
My mom went along with the idea just because…<br />
well, let’s just say she doesn’t like coming<br />
between my dad and his <br />
(sarcasm)<br />
‘ideas’. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS lights his cigarette and notices a group of young men luring a cat and then kicking it away. The young men then start laughing of joy.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS (V.O.)<br />
Oh look, there’s Johny. A perfect model<br />
of the way a man should be. Masculine, <br />
intelligent and not the least bit immature.<br />
How I would love to be part of his posse.<br />
It’s a shame that during high school I joined<br />
the chess club instead of devoting my time<br />
JULIUS (V.O.) (CONT’D)<br />
to more character building enterprises like<br />
beating up kids for their lunch money. <br />
<br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS finishes his cigarette and puts out the butt in an ashtray. He notices his father in the backyard fiddling with the lawnmower. His father is obviously enraged.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIES’ mother screams from downstairs.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">DENISE<br />
Julius, could you come downstairs for<br />
a moment. Your father has thrown one <br />
of his fits again. You better come<br />
downstairs.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS<br />
What the fuck now?<br />
<br />
DENISE<br />
Watch your mouth Julius! And come<br />
down here before it gets worse.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS (V.O.)<br />
Yes, that’s me. Julius. Named after the<br />
(sarcasm)<br />
great<br />
Julius Caeser. If only men of power<br />
had been given regular names.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">INT. BAKKER’S HOUSE – KITCHEN<br />
<br />
DENISE<br />
Good morning early bird Julius. <br />
<br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS opens the refrigerator and looks in and grabs a plate of food. He starts eating eagerly.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS<br />
I’m not a bird. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">DENISE<br />
It’s not early either. Before you finish<br />
your breakfast go and see what your father<br />
wants.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS<br />
Sure.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">EXT. BAKKER’S HOUSE – BACKYARD</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS’ father is constantly swearing whilst looking at his broken lawnmower. JULIUS exits the house through the backdoor. His father notices him approaching.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">VINCE<br />
(angry)<br />
The thing’s only a week old. Fucking <br />
piece of shit! <br />
<br />
JULIUS<br />
(obviously irritated)<br />
That’s what you get for buying things <br />
on sale. It’s always a rip-off in the<br />
end. <br />
<br />
VINCE<br />
You think you’re helping you little<br />
smart-ass? The thing cost me more <br />
than you’ll ever make in a year! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A beat.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">VINCE<br />
It’s got to be the blade! I’ll need a new<br />
one and you’re going to get it for me boy.<br />
<br />
JULIUS<br />
(still irritated)<br />
It’s your lawnmower. Get the bloody thing<br />
yourself.<br />
<br />
VINCE<br />
(enraged)<br />
What do you ever do around this place? <br />
Nothing but lounging around, smoking cigarettes<br />
and coming up with bullshit things to say! It’s <br />
about time <u>you</u> did something for your parents!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS<br />
What kind of blade do you want then?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">VINCE<br />
I need a 32 inch Dixon low lift blade.<br />
You got that?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS<br />
Yeah, yeah. A 32 inch low lift blade.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">VINCE<br />
(annoyed)<br />
Dixon!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS<br />
Yes boss. I have my mother’s genes, <br />
not yours.<br />
<br />
VINCE<br />
(angry again)<br />
Get out of my sight before I really get<br />
pissed off! I don’t want to see you again<br />
until you have my blade!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS (V.O.)<br />
Arguing with an enraged father is like<br />
swimming upstream. It just wears you out<br />
and you’re better off stopping before you <br />
get started. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">EXT. BAKKER’S HOUSE – FRONT YARD</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The camera is centered on the front and zooms out when JULIUS comes out. The camera then loops around and follows JULIUS whilst he exits his front yard and starts walking down the street. Children are outside playing with toys. JULIUS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">JULIUS <br />
<br />
</span></div>Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-10697768604821506862011-03-24T19:59:00.000+01:002011-03-24T19:59:41.378+01:00CultureCulture, culture ... culture. Culture has always puzzled me. We are all living in a very technologically advanced world, yet the differences between countries is still immense. If you were to take the time travelling across Europa alone, you would come across many different people abiding their own cultural background. Even though, these people all have access to telephones, internet and even the mail, to come in contact with different inhabitants of our planet. Yet, all these countries still have their own individual culture. Each country has their our national form of music, way of dressing, language, art, architecture, humour, etc. You would say, in such modern times people would stop trying to form their own groups, but actually achieve as a whole, on a planetery level. He all have the resources to do so, yet all these different countries cling to their culture as if it were their first born child. I am not necessarily saying I am opposed to countries having their own culture, for culture creates a certain diversity which can be very interesting at times. But, I am surprised that we all do have our own individual cultures. Where does this mindset of having to be different from the others come from? It is only standing in the way of dealing with major international problems such as war, poverty, hunger, polution, largely increasing number of people, just to state several of the many. Now some you might say this is not true, and it might not be. But, I think culture is keeping us down as a race.<br />
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I would like to leave it at that, and ask for all the people who have read this to give their opinion. I want to get a discussion going, for I am very interested in what you guys think. People with questions or ideas can comment on this blog.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-51203042422696687892011-03-19T21:39:00.000+01:002011-03-19T21:39:36.485+01:00Continuing...So, with my previous blog I stated the difference in the things we like. Now I know my previous post might have come across as a bit lengthy and for that I apologize. As I want to finish of this line of though, I will keep this blog short as well.<br />
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What got me thinking though is that fact that our brains are so similar, yet so different. An example; When I look watch a film I pay attention to all kinds of things. Like the way the sets have been created, the use of special effects, acting, camera angles and I could go on for a while. Whilst watching a film I ask myself certain questions on what the director must have been thinking of when he made certain choices, or how brilliant some script writers are. On the other hand there are other people. These people simply watch a film and do not give it a lot of thought. Afterwards if you ere to ask them in depth questions on the film, they would be unable to answer your questions. Now, this is just one example. I will give you one more; I see two people sitting on a bus together. They are having a conversation, whilst using their phones to listen to music without having to use earphones. They are using horrible language in front of children, and it is quite obvious the other passengers are annoyed by their behaviour. I can not help but to start thinking about what happened in these people's lives that led to them show such poor social behaviour. I take several facts into consideration, such as ethnic background, age, gender, possible schooling etc. Now I am pretty sure a lot of people just perceive what is happening and choose to give the young people a harsh look, and most likely curse them in their own minds and then just leave it at that. These are just two examples, but I could name several hundreds. And the examples do not stop as simple social conduct problems, but I mean such differences as most of us experience on democratic nationalities. A very good example are politics. All these different individuals with their own little parties all have their own ideals. It is very obvious that the way human beings think varies in many possible ways. This line of thought led me to thinking about <i>why </i>humans think in completely different ways. This thought of <i>why</i>, led me to start thinking about our future, and that is what I was trying to say in my previous blogs.<br />
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My conclusion on the <i>why</i> is very vague, for I am no expert on the matter. I should do more reading on human thinking patterns when I get the time. But things that came into mind are mainly the upbringing of a person. Whether or not the individual has been challenging to think about problems as a child. Other matters such as talents, and the expertise level of a new born child. There are several more factors, but I do not want to go writing them all down. All these factors are of importance for a human being when developing a cognitive approach to every day life.<br />
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Now, at our modern day and age there are huge differences in the way we think. And to come back on evolution, I believe that the next main step for our race, is for our minds to evolve. Eventually, in an ideal situation, all human beings will have the same cognitive capacity as one another. Only when this happens, will we ensure the survivability of our race.<br />
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I hope most of you have been able to follow my blog on the matter. I am quite aware I have made spelling and grammar mistakes, and I would like to take these few lines to apologize for them. When writing about my thoughts I am not fond of going back on them and making alterations. This may confuse the reader when reading my blogs as one. Just take that in mind when you read any of my future blogs. Thanks for your time, and please comment and keep reading.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-10322206593172263782011-03-18T15:49:00.000+01:002011-03-18T15:49:05.523+01:00Continuing on last night's thoughtsA few weeks ago I was watching television, something I very rarely do. Television is something I try to avoid, for it is simply boring as hell to me. The amount of advertisements, the uncountable reruns of certain programs and the main reason why I dislike television is the way everybody presents themselves. Nearly every single person in the television business. The way reailty programs show people who should most definitely not represent reality is quite sickening to me. Although, the people might actually be close to what reality is for most, but not for me. It is quite funny though, that there are so many reality series. The sad thing is though, that these programs exist because there is a market for them. People do actually watch these programs, and that is what worries me.<br />
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So, back to my point. A few weeks ago I was watching a reality show they broadcast here in the Netherlands. I think it is about several people living in a house, trying to guess each other's secret. It is very big brother like. I was dazzled by the useless conversations the people were having with each other. I could not help but keep wondering why anybody would want to watch this trash, but evidently people do watch it. What this made very clear to myself was that the way people think varies enormously. Me being person A, is completely not interested in the program, for I consider the conversations to be very dull and simple. Person B, somebody else that does actually enjoy the program, is sitting in their living room, watching the program and he/she is propelled by the conversations the people on the show are having. This is a good example of two different ways of thinking. The one enjoys the program and the other does not. A very good example of difference in interests. Difference in interests is something I can accept, for I would never judge somebody based simply on their interests. <br />
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The forementioned example displays differentials in people's interests. Why I gave you this example is because I do not want you to mistake it with what I will tell you in my next blog. I have other pressing obligations at the moment so I will have to come back on it, yet again.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-56428502205326933202011-03-17T23:46:00.000+01:002011-03-17T23:46:25.382+01:00Evolution of manNow, I know the theory of evolution is a topic well talked about, but I would like to add my thoughts on the matter. Now, I do not wish to speculate on the past course of evolution. Much has been said and I am quite possitive most people know what we are talking about when we discuss the theory of evolution.<br />
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What I have been occupied with lately is the future evolution of human beings. First of all I just want to state that I highly doubt the further evolution of man, for I think us human beings will destroy our own race before we can let evolution take its cause and help us improve ourselves. It is just the way we function. There are many flaws in being human. For one, we are very emotionally complicated creatures, and very often act upon these emotions with much thought. The combination of having a brilliant brain capacity and emotions will evidently prove to be a very self destructive one. A second flaw is that no single human thinks in exactly the same way. One might think of this to be a possitive, but I see it as being a major flaw in our existence. If we can not think as one, we will eventually fail to secure our future as a race. This second fact can be perceived in every day life. It can be seen as minor differentials such as the variation of clothing choice, brand choice, social interaction and I could go on. A third flaw can be the modern day cultural differences, which have and most likely will always exist. In the past cultural differences have led to wars of gigantic proportion, and I believe that in the end this will be the main factor in our very own destruction.<br />
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There are several more factors which <em>might</em> lead to our own extinction, but I am not going to list all of my thoughts, for I would rather proceed with the matter at hand. So, lets say that we do not destroy ourselves, and we find a way to survive on this planet for a long period of time. If we were able to survive long enough for there to be an obvious evolution within our race, I truly think it will be a mental based evolution, as opposed to a physical change. Of course there might be small changes. For example our bodies needing less maintanence, our bodily functions adapting themselves to the current state of our planet etc. <br />
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No, I really think our heads contain the most room for improvement. If given time I think we will be capable of doing things we can not even start to imagine. I think our way of thinking will have less variations, and that people will all eventually start losing emotions. Emotions being such a random factor of life, for us to evolve it will be ultimately vital for our emotions to lose importance. Human beings will have to base their decisions on logic, and not on impulses or feelings. The cognitive thought process will most likely improve as well. To explain this concept it is best to compare the human brain with a computer. Computers send and receive date, they translate this data, store the data, copy the data etc. The human brain does more or less the same thing. Given enough time it would only seem logical for our brains to expand on their thinking capabality. This means that all our thoughts will be just that bit faster. You can imagine this being very handy when in conversation with somebody. It will seem as if you have more time to think about what you want to say next, for your brain would be working harder on the matter. If we would let evolution run its course long enough, the outcome could be quite scary. The human brain being so fast that you could calculate possible outcomes of conversations before they even take place. I think this will eventually lead to simplified communication, for everybody would be able to understand each other a lot sooner. <br />
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For now I will have that, it is getting quite late and I can not really focus on what I am typing, let alone what I am thinking. If I have made any spelling or grammar mistakes, I ask for your forgiveness. For I have not taken the time to reread what I have written. <br />
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I will be continuing on this line of thought soon. Feel free to react. I would appreciate any thoughts on the matter.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-710181359418635622011-03-16T18:30:00.000+01:002011-03-16T18:30:22.025+01:00Back alreadyI have figured out how to post now, so my test is a bit irrelevant. And I appologize for that.<br />
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I just returned from what I was doing. It was obviously less time consuming than I thought it would be. I am currently wondering how people will ever find my blogs. I give the site a more thurough lookthrough. Before I just keep spewing random thought which are entirely not productive I will start talking about more interesting thoughts, interesting in at leats my opinion, I have been having lately.<br />
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The internet has always amazed me as how it can be very useful at times, and yet very dissapointing at others. I mean, the amount of trash that can and will be found on the internet is horrifying to say the least. I don't even dare count the useless hours I have spent watching people make complete fools of themselves or say and do things that are never going to help me in any way. This thought has led me to the thinking about the logical course of things. Are we ever going to get out of this human era, where as everybody is wasting their time on pointless occupations, or are we just going to stick to what we are doing. The whole situation might eventually worsen, and this is what I am most afraid of. The introduction on tosh.0 or whatever it is called, has completely worsened the situation. You are now able to simply watch youtube material on your television set. <br />
I have started talking about internet and the progression or degression it will experience in the future, but my worries actually go out a lot further. I am very worried about the state western cultures are in. Every single human being seems to be obsessed with all the wrong things. <br />
It is very hard to express all my thoughts in this single blog, and I am experiencing major difficulties as to how I am going to tackle this line of thought. For the time being I will give the matter more thought, and I will put these on paper (in this case the web obvious) in the recent future. For time at the moment is quite short. It is close to dinner time. <br />
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I am sorry I have not been very elaborate on the matter yet, but I promise you more in the near future.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-12143135852734378832011-03-16T18:29:00.000+01:002011-03-16T18:29:05.189+01:00Just a testMy last blog was not updated, and I have no reason why. I'll just be typing this short message to see if my blog gets posted or not. It may seem silly, but I truly need to get to the bottom of this.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2003767251613652359.post-61767917003470519152011-03-16T17:24:00.000+01:002011-03-16T17:24:50.626+01:00My first blogWhat a strange thing I have been brought into. I have never 'blogged' before, because I never really thought anybody at all would be interested in what I think about. On a whim, I decided to give it a shot. I have been writing in my personal time more frequently lately, and I figured this would be a good way to practice my English.<br />
I am currently short on time, but I will try to blog some more very soon.<br />
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That is it for now.Levihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16544636317135413090noreply@blogger.com5