And then he entered the room, suddenly...or did he?

The bottle of wine lay on the ground dripping frantically onto the ground, slowly pouring out the remnants of its livelihood onto the hardwood floor. The puddle of wine gained mass and the slight force of gravity on the minutely uneven floor caused the circle of red to trickle towards the white apron. The apron was balled up into a makeshift pillow under the head of Leroy Smolsky. He lay fast asleep upon the apron with his hands between his legs and the backs of his calves squished firmly against the backs of his thighs. He lay in a scrumpled ball on the floor, trying to conserve warmth as he slept. The wine menace snuck its way across the landscape to reach its inevitable target. The terrain between the wine and the man-ball was littered with crumpled paper, beer bottles, clothing and cigar butts. The wine precariously flittered around various objects as the path of lowest potential energy revealed itself. The puddle of wine was becoming a river. The initial pool now transformed into a tributary of terrible taint. The dark red stream oozing ever closer to the poor unsuspecting buffoon who snored quietly amidst a forest of garbage. The odd banana peel gave the floor an even dirtier feeling. Not to mention the lone piece of half-eaten pizza that was a Germany distance away from the relative North America that was Leroy. The ever persistent wine kept its snakelike action as it began to branch into multiple streams, dictated by the slight imperfections in the floor. The tiniest of deviations from a planar state in the floor caused the wine to follow its course. Leroy could always blame the floor or even the man who installed the hardwood or even the architect who designed the building or even the school that trained the architect or even the country that built the school or even the world that created the country or even...who was left? No one, I'm sure but let's continue. Where were we? Ah yes, the wine. Inching its way closer, the wine was now on the threshold of Leroy's personal space. Like a wooden horse at the gates of Troy, the wine now approached the event horizon created by Leroy's body. The overweight man caused a distortion in the floor's existence. The floor became bent around his body, due to his mass. This was part of the reason that the wine flowed toward him. He was to blame after all! His existence itself was the cause to his misfortune! A breakthrough! But alas, Leroy is ever on the floor. With the wine perched on the verge of soaking into the white apron inevitably waking Leroy up, causing him to swear loudly, causing the woman in his bed to stir, causing her to question her location and ponder how she got there, causing Leroy to remember the previous night just seconds after the woman in his bed did, causing a furious fight that fosters hatred in both parties, causing Leroy to do something he regrets, causing Leroy to distort the world around him, causing all the problems in the world to cascade down upon him like a waterfall of agony, causing him to wake up and swear loudly, causing him to start the cycle again.

There's Leroy, all alone on the floor. Two disasters about to befall him. Mayhaps if the boisterous and arrogant neighbour, Richmond were to knock on the door at just the right time. In his swede sport coat, elegantly faded jeans and designer shoes Richmond could put an end to all of this. He could check his watch and see the time is 8:54am and decide to grab a coffee before he ventures out into the world. The sunlight would stream into his apartment, it would sneak its way around dust in the air in a fraction of a second. An onslaught of photons would set the stage for this drama as Richmond checked his sugar tin and realized he was out of the white, crystalline substance. Here it is, the potential redemption of the mess next door. Richmond's apartment stands in stark contrast to his neighbour's. The very definition of order is personified by Richmond's apartment. After all, without order, what are we?

Richmond never knows how vital his role is. How he could save everything. It is not known. Does it happen?

Does Leroy ever wake up? More importantly, can he wake up without the wine staining the apron?

He is doomed, his salvation rests on a well-dressed man's dietary desires. His damnation rests in the crimson swirls on his floor, creeping like the hand of Death to grab him and drag him to Hell. His salvation and end also lie in the olive and pearl-white entanglement in his bed. A slender leg and a mash of cotton contained in a silk sheet. He was never the instrument of his own salvation. He is always the tool of his demise. He is always on the floor. He is caught amidst the chaos that surrounds him. He hears and sees nothing relating to the man next door, the woman in the next room. There is no sound. There breathing is silenced over the torrential roar of the wine, dripping onto the floor, making a mess.

I Recommend "The Invention of Lying" Because I Enjoyed It

I was on a plane and decided to tickle my fancy with the onboard entertainment; particularly a movie called The Invention of Lying. I anticipated that the movie would be a lark and I would bother everyone else on the plane with my raucous laughter and chronic knee-slapping. However, from essentially start to finish there was not even a whisper of laughter from my lips. My knees were not even CLOSE to being slapped and everyone on the plane had an enjoyable flight.

Except for me.

I was so disappointed at what I had assumed would have been a hilarious movie.

Ricky Gervais + Louis C.K. = hilarious [1]

This was the equation that I thought I had but upon rigorous analysis it was actually this equation:

Flaccid Penis + Vagina = Bad Sex [2]

The whole movie was basically like I was excited to get laid only to realize that my sexual partner was not attractive at all but then I was forced to have sex against my will. I just wanted it to be over to see if at least the ending would be good but it was not. Watching this movie was just like constantly thrusting my limp member into a relatively taught cavity without joy for an hour and a half with no sweet release at the end. Then I just felt ashamed and regretted ever watching it.

Where were the jokes? All the comedy was based on actors' reactions to various stimuli thrown into the movie. There were no written jokes or if there were I missed them.

I waited for the movie to get better but it didn't and then it went into a bizarre twist when it started going down a religious route. Mark Bellison's lie that invents the notion of a happy afterlife to cheer up a character who is dying takes the movie down a weird path that I wasn't expecting. A large portion of the movie then focuses on the lie of "The Man in the Sky" and proceeds to make other religiously themed jokes. I was confused, not entertained and soured to the whole movie.

Here's the thing. When I read The Chronicles of Narnia when I was a kid I never knew there were religious undertones to the series. I just thought it was a bunch of talking donkeys killing each other and was totally into it (because I was a kid and followed the relation in [3]). Even though C.S. Lewis intended it to be a religious series of books, I didn't like it for the religion when I was young. I didn't root for Aslan because he was Jesus; I liked Aslan because he was a badass fucking lion who took none of the White Witch's shit.

I wouldn't want to watch a movie that was blatantly pro-religion under the guise of being the next The Hangover.

Bruce Almighty was a similar type of movie. It was shitty for a number of different reasons but one of them was that it threw too much religion in your face (mainly secular, spirituality, Deepak Chopra shit). However, Bruce Almighty was about God. It never made any claims to not be about God. It was what it was in all its shitty glory. If I had known about the apparent large role that religion played in The Invention of Lying (like when Ricky Gervais looked like Jesus) I would have expected something much different.

I was disappointed because I expected a lot more funny and a lot less religious commentary. The only things I can conclude about life/this movie are as follows:

Kids = Dumb [3]

Title of this blog entry = Lie [4]

The Sky Is Crying

I am hesitant to write a blog about real events. It seems that this page becomes more and more an outlet where I can vent some pent-up creativity. I guess that can still be true even if I am writing entries that apply to my daily life but it also seems like my daily life is so uninteresting. However, I have no particularly interesting stories (fantastical) to tell and I enjoy the sound of clacking keys so I will parlay some information about my life.

Teaching,

There, that's it. No specifics. I don't want to make the anonymous users of the internet jealous if they happen to have just completed or (even worse) completed a long time ago a bachelor of education and are looking for a job. I guess I narrowed down the field a bit and probably achieved what I set out not to. But isn't that the way it always goes?

A desire to teach has been rekindled and continues to be around 1:05pm on weekdays but my apathy seems to grow throughout the rest of the day and I find myself thinking that it isn't me, it's them. That attitude doesn't really help anybody and I am only consoled by the fact that a partial few actually do understand some things but that also has nothing to do with me.
I find it scary that in most cases involving students their academic careers are almost completely decided by them. The instructor has very little control in the sense that the marks are there for those who want to get them. I never knew how easy it is to get marks and succeed. However, I know this only as a result of experience so maybe it's not too much of a missed opportunity and more of a right of passage that leads all adults to conclude that all children are stupid, unmotivated and lazy. Two generalizations that are real almost all of the time (don't forget that adults have no souls and have forgotten the true meaning of life).

Book Review

I recently read V for Vendetta and dare I say I liked the movie more than the novel. Perhaps it is because I saw the movie first or maybe it is because the novel was one of Alan Moore's earlier works. Either way, I feel that the movie told the story of V quite eloquently. Obviously there is the fact that without the novel there would be no movie but it should be noted that of all the movie adaptations of Moore's work (remember the V for Vendetta movie came out before the Watchmen movie), V for Vendetta was the best. I really liked the dialogue in the movie and was expecting (and was disappointed when it wasn't there) the long, albeit kind of silly, alliterative monologue that V delivers. I think it had the right effect. I was also surprised about just how crazy V was in the graphic novel that was a little down-played in the movie.
Ultimately, the novel was amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed it but I particularly enjoyed the recent interpretation of the story in cinematic format. I feel the movie captured all the themes of the novel with quite a few aspects of the story altered but still packing the same punch intended to be delivered by the novel.
Well done, Wachowskis. The Matrix sequels are the only blemish on your career. Keep up the good work.

Yours valiantly, vehemently and always vibrantly,
Le double-V