Adeste Fideles! Tis the season, mind...

I guess I always expected myself to write something about my favourite holiday in the whole world/beyond: Christmas. However as I lay in bed last night, it was then I realised that I can’t write about Christmas like everyone else is going to, I would destroy my own holiday.

Just like every other Christmas editorial, I expected myself to sit down and write on one/many of the Three Christmas Arguments:

- Commercialism
- Religion
- Political Correct-ness

As I realised a few nights ago, I most definitely have an opinion on all three. But what I realised last night was that NONE OF IT MATTERED!

(Or more importantly, writing it would be hypocritical)

For writing (and even THINKING) of ‘opinions’ on how EVERYONE should spend Christmas is EXACTLY against my way of thinking towards Christmas! My mindset of Christmas is to enjoy it in any way that ‘floats your boat’. And as was pointed out to me some nights ago, by expressing my opinions…:

I AM TELLING PEOPLE HOW TO SPEND CHRISTMAS!!

Which lol, is in direct violation of the ‘Tom wants to avoid being a hypocrite’ Act of 2003. So it doesn't matter what I think on the opinions of Christmas; it doesn't matter that there are people that hate it, or don’t believe in it, or rebel against it, or love it, or quietly dread its coming; the fact is that I PERSONALLY love it the way it is, and will enjoy it to the fullest!!!


I LOVE…

I love the 1950’s nostalgia I get from singing Christmas carols (love hearing old American jazz crooners sing the word ‘Israel’…one of the simple pleasures of life)

I love thinking about my year, thinking about my family and friends; a beautiful full-stop to another year.

I love the brilliant contrast between dry Bethlehem and snowy New York

I love the ancient stories of the Middle East mixed with the lovey-dovey emotions of children’s television

I love Midnight Mass, I love ‘The Panel’s Christmas Panto’

I love swaddling Jesus (the raw picturesque beginning of a new era, the only time I can believe a human being can be born pure without the taint of the rest of us) and jolly Santa (the whimsical beauty of sitting awake at night listening for his sleigh *sigh* still gives me tingles and a smile thinking of it :D lol)

I love getting presents (seeing what random-ness my parents can cook up lol *rolls eyes*) and I love giving them (the look on peoples faces…God, I’m tingling again)

I love the symbol of the star, the symbol of snow.

A church choir singing the two part harmony of ‘Child of Mercy', Bing Crosby’s whistle solo in ‘White Christmas’

I love the nativity scene and the little party that follows (how I wish I could have seen it…), I love the crappy Christmas movies that show :D

I love Christmas, Xmas, Jesus’ Birthday, December the 25th – In the end, it doesn't matter what it is…to me its always been magic and will always be.

Our Father - Movement 6

But deliver us from evil:

(croons)The pendulum swings,
and brings,
a new generation of King.
And you see ‘his royal highness’,
was just another minus ;)

For he who was everyone’s passion,
now finds himself slightly out of fashion
The King is dead
Long live the King. (/croons)

The old jazz singer sits in his house…a stranger in this decade. I don’t belong here, like a fish in a desert.

My voice used to croon; now it coughs up blood.
My dancing made women swoon; now my legs are lead.
My eyes used to wink at the crowd, now they’re wrinkled and dead.
My lungs used to be able to support a trumpet, now they can hardly support my body.
My mind used to be as quick as a match, now it cant differentiate reality from dream.

DING DONG
Doorbell.

Package.
Open.
Gasp.

A piece of paper is inside…it has a small phrase written on it. Somewhat familiar…then I realise. It is me.

Suddenly im back in the club. Im singing again, about things that used to be both frivolous and serious at the same time.

(croons) If that isn’t love, it’ll have to do
until the real thing comes along ;) (/croons)

The muted trumpet sooths my soul, my silky voice softens my heart, the jazz guitar makes me marvel, the 3/4 time makes me dance.

The package is from me.

I throw the paper to the ground, and I start to waltz with nobody in particular. My legs work again, im my young self. I’m waltzing with a beautiful woman in a chandelier-lit hall…what else do I need?

The paper, Now forgotten on the ground, reads:
For the Kingdom, the power, the glory are yours
Now and forever.

Our Father - Movement 5

And lead us not into temptation:

BANG the gun goes. The race has begun.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

The track stretches out in front of me; no obstacles or twists…but one will occur (it always does in the end).

Footstep, footstep, footstep

FACT: A professional 100m sprinter takes 35 and ½ steps to complete a race.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

Before the race, dad took me aside. “It’s not the end result that determines who a person is; it’s how he gets there”.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

I see the podium, and in a flash I see what winning looks like. A golden woman, oozing of sensual power. Accentuated curves, hourglass figure…a goddess. She wants me…and im going to comply.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

The track guides me on one path, leads me towards my goal. There is no straying from my path, the white lines keep me focused on my goal. Starting to pant.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

“Tom!!! Tom!!! Can we have a moment of your time? Just take this microphone…speak into here, yeah. Ok rolling…So Tom, how does it feel?”

“Ever since I was a kid I’ve wanted to win…I guess I’ve done that now. It all came from belief in myself and my abilities *winks* and a good grasp of the rules”

Footstep, footstep, footstep

In the game of life, there is no winning…only prolonged ‘not-losing’. The aim of the game is to go as long as you can without losing. However, its only when you lose that you finally get to look at the rulebook…

Footstep, footstep, footstep

(The temptation? Well the temptation is to try and lose early so that you can get a glimpse at the rules…)

Footstep, footstep, footstep

Opponent is breathing hard next to me. Its just us on the track. He is my rival. He’s going to win. Then again, he has forgotten that winning races isn’t about running.

He starts to falter (thy drugs are quick) and he trips and falls. I am the only one who can win. I AM A WINNER.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

I’m an old man, watching the tape of this race. I see him fall over, and I don’t smile like I used to. I look at my legs, bandy and wrinkled with age. I thought I was a winner…I guess I was wrong.

Footstep, footstep, footstep

I see the podium again, I see winning personified again. It’s the sensual woman, moaning in the pleasure of the win. She’s at the finish line, screaming out my name. She opens her legs and cries for me to cross the line.

And I’m going to comply.

Footstep, footstep, footst-

Our Father - Movement 4

And forgive us our trespassers,
as we forgive those who trespass against us:

“C’mon pussy, what are you afraid of?!” he spat.

His red eyes blazing like his red hair. I’m not a pussy…then why cant I do it? Why cant I go into that house?

“All you gotta do is go in there, and take Old Man Furletti’s guitar” he said. “He’s 90, and its midnight; he aint gonna give you any trouble! Just get in there faggot, I wanna play that thing!”

Of course, when he put it like that…

I climbed the fence, past the withered plants and the unkempt grass. Past the ancient garden nomes, past the shrunken and hollow guard dog who was failing at his job, past the old shutters concealing old windows that didn’t want the sun to shine on them (even if there WAS sun…)

The door wasn’t locked, its owner came from a time where you didn’t need to lock doors.

I found the guitar easily; it was the only thing in the dilapidated house of any value. In the middle of the room, like it was a shine to be worshipped. It was as dilapidated as the house; worn away by love (just like everything else).

I grabbed it and turned to go…but there was the Old Man in the doorway. He stood there in a singlet and boxers, a withered being. Totally defenceless, open mouthed at the trespasser in his house. His gaze unnerved me…

CRASH!! ROCK THROUGH THE WINDOW
(glass shatters everywhere [the night is pierced])

The only sounds now are of the faint laughter out on the street and the deafening roar of the Old Man’s gasping and whimpering. He still didn’t move towards me; his face a myriad of misery. His emanciated chest heaves up and down as he sobs inside.

I move toward the new hole in the window, to escape with his guitar…and then I look back.

A single tear drops from the Old Man’s wrinkled eye.

The drop
hits
my soul.

His sorrow is inside me; HE is inside me, my very soul. He grabs at my brain and shouts “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” (the voice sounds like a droplet of water on a dusty floorboard). He shows my brain my actions from another point of view, he changes my view on everything; effects my very personality…he has complete control over me.

I leave…he breaks the guitar two nights later after spilling beer on it, trying to impress some slutty chick.

How can I ever forgive myself?

Our Father - Movement 3

Give us this day
our daily bread:

I check my watch…its broken. Ha.
Im sitting down, but I crane my neck to see out the door.
3:20pm, that’s when she comes by.

…waiting…

I need to see her every day; just that glimpse keeps me going. It refills my canteen on my journey.

Of course she’s not mine, but for that moment (just that split second inside 3:20pm) I look upon beauty in its rawest, most innocent state. Like staring into the sun…burns me up (yet shines on my soul).

Its not love, but it’s the closest thing I got. She makes…wait, shut up!

…thhheeeeere she is…

That angelic girl walks past the door. Her stride, her fragility; I want to protect her even before I hear what I’ll be protecting her against.

Lol what would I protect her against? She’d protect me.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen her…I feel myself again. My mana, my life-force. I am rejuvenated and at the same time, left with barely the energy to move my head back to its original position

To wait…

…for the next 3:20pm.

Our Father - Movement 2

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
on Earth as it is in heaven:

:) the world smiles.

Sunny light shines down into a beautiful room, white from top to bottom. The reflections give the room a glow; like it was sent by God himself. Everyone walks around with smiles on their faces, nobody is ever sad. The world is perfect, there is no crime or hate or fear; only the love of life itself. There is no lust, there is no need. There is nothing but eternal bliss, and perfect harmony.

Imagine all the people…living…life…NO

NO I WILL NOT LET THIS BE I WILL NOT LET THIS BE LET ME OUT LET ME OUT.

:) In a perfect world there are no imperfections; this is logically implied.

HAND ON EARS I WONT LET IT BE HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME

:) All your needs are accounted for, you are a valued and important citizen. Please return to using proper grammar; thank you.

DIE GO AND DIE FUCK OFF GET OUT OF MY HEAD KICKING SQUEALING GUCCI LITTLE PIGGY I WANT EMOTION AND LIFE

:) All your needs are accounted for. Since your departure from life, you have had nothing but paradise. You have followed the commandments; you have earned your place here in paradise. Please return to using correct grammar.

LIFE IS IMPERFECT CANT YOU SEE CANT YOU CHANGE IT I CANT EVEN SCREAM OR CRY LET ME OUT:) This is not life.I WILL DESTROY THIS PLACE I CANNOT LET IT EXIST GOD LOVES HIS CHILDREN GOD LOVES HIS CHILDREN…

…yeah

Our Father - Movement 1

Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name:

"…oh God…"

Stomach.
Lungs.
Soul.

The bullet left a hole in my body, a history of its short lived life. My hands, shaking, tried to hold myself together. I cried.

The man holding the gun wasn’t a picture of confidence, this wasn’t the movies. Fear in his eyes. His breathing was heavier then mine, his heartbeat louder…I dunno, maybe that was MY heartbeat. Didn’t matter.

Blood.
Life flashes before my eyes, like its running out of my body:

Kid with a toy, believes he is superman.
I wish that they’d swoop down in a country lane, late at night while im driving.
I love you (I don’t).
Smell of frying bacon in the morning.
Taste of a beer after a hard day.
Feel of warm soft lips on yours.
Not happy Jan.
Coca-Cola.
Jazz music.
Warmth of a slender hand on your chest.
Laughter so hard it hurts.
“Hmmm…tastes like chicken”
Accomplishing dreams (failing dreams).
Watching internet cartoons.
Making somebody laugh.
Uncomfortable silence…
…
…yeah…
Looking at her.
Crisp cold mornings.
Looking down the barrel of the gun.
The sight of the finish line.

Cough *blood*.
No more life to flash before my eyes. I look up towards my killer.

He has the ultimate power, the power to take life.

He took.

Plans for Paradise (Lost)

Here are my plans for making John Milton's classic Paradise Lost (the story of Adam and Eve + the fall of Satan; all told in a dramtised way) into a big-budget Hollywood Blockbuster!

- Open with a creation being drawn out on paper, very childlike (like the animation in Yoshi’s Island). Voiceover pretty much quotes Genesis. All done to Jack Johnson’s ‘Do You Remember?’ Constant flashes of the movie, symbolising that we all know the story and how it’s going to end.

- Opening credits have Satan + Fallen Angels + Sin + Death all returning to Hell after war with Heaven. All done to Radiohead’s ‘We Suck Young Blood’. Must have one shot in an Armageddon stylee (all walking in a line towards the camera). They all fly over the lake of fire, and shots of Hell (very detailed landscapes, like a Myasaki movie opening) and also shots of the creation of the Pandæmonium fortress.

- Milton describes angels as always having a look of joy on their faces. Make it REALLY over the top, like one of the drama masks? No mouth movement, no face movement whatsoever; will look really freaky!

- All angels have a chord coming out of their back that leads to God’s throne. When Lucifer and the Fallen Angels rebel, their chord leads to Satan’s throne (on opposite side of heaven).

- The difference between the Angels and the Fallen Angels is that Fallen angels have shaved heads (normal angels have long locks of hair). Also, Fallen angels can move their mouths (they want to be ‘free’ from God’s will)

- All the war in heaven will be done in anime. This symbolises the cartoon nature of the fight; angels can’t die, so every sword cut and gunshot, while still being very bloody, will heal almost instantly. The anime will also make Michael’s cutting of Satan’s chord/Satan’s fall very dramatic and beautiful.

- When Satan leaves Hell to scout out Eden, he will start soliloquising like a film noir character (because that is when he starts to think about asking for forgiveness).

- When Satan tempts Eve, it will be in an old film noir style. Black and white, Eve dressed like a 30’s film star (Monroe type of woman) and Satan like out of Casablanca (because he gets Eve to eat by complimenting her beauty).

- Milton always has angels ‘singing praises’ and that’s all they seem to do, so I want tons of big singing/dancing numbers like a cheesy musical. This couples with those freaky faces of theirs will make it funny and really strange :D

- As for Adam and Eve; even though they are naked, they aren't ashamed of it. To translate that feeling, I want them to have no privates (like Action Man dolls). They can be naked, but I want them looking artificial, so just smooth mounds and nothing else. When they eat the fruit, THEN they can look human.

- Make God know EVERYTHING, and always be on top of things. If this is done in the right way, people will get a LITTLE annoyed by Him, but not too much (which is what Milton sort of wanted). Also have God restrict a lot of things (like when Raphael talks to Adam about free will: “you can choose whatever you like, but choose God”). This can be shown especially with God’s attitude towards the Adam/Eve relationship.

- The big theme of this story is love. It’s Adams love for Eve that makes him disobey. So their meeting has to be done very delicately. God’s attitude is one of worrying about Adam’s lust (seen by Raphael’s warning to Adam about his feelings) so this makes it seem like God is restricting, in some ways, Adam’s love (like how Milton wrote it)

- Milton writes Paradise Lost with Adam being much better then Eve (spiritually, morally, physically etc.). I’m not 100% sure how to approach that, because the last thing I want is the feminists on my back…then again, it IS Eve’s vanity in herself that makes her eat the fruit…maybe they can give me some artistic licence lol…

- When Satan sneaks into Eden past the Angel guards, I want it looking like that bit in Zelda when you sneak past the guards of the castle. Birds-eye view.

- Interesting how Milton has given reason and logic to only Satan and humans, the only beings that sin…

- After Eve eats the fruit she goes and tells Adam. Adam knows what the fruit will do, but he can’t live without Eve, so he willingly cuts himself off from God. This could make for a very dramatic ‘suicide’ scene.

- Interesting point that Milton makes: As soon as Adam/Eve eat the fruit, the first thing they do is go off into the woods and do the horizontal monster-mash (if you get my drift).When Raphael ejects Adam/Eve from Eden, he shows them images of the future (Jesus, war, Cain/Abel, famine etc.) this would be a good place to put some modern images and discussion in (materialism, terrorism, atheism etc.).