This one was set last week and should have been put up in the same week but, alas, I forgot, didn't I? Classic Pete. Enough woefulness, however, lets move onto the assignment.
This (last) week we had to rewrite the following excerpt in our own style however we liked:
"and you tell me my other self will you answer me at last I am tired of you I want you I dream of you for you against you answer me your name is a perfume about me your colour bursts among the thorns bring back my heart with coll wine make me a coverlet of the morning I suffocate beneath this mask withered shrunken skin nothing exists save desire - Philippe Sollers (1936 - )
The piece above was type exactly as it was given to us - no punctuation, no sentence structure, no sense but with some close reading and a thesaurus I managed to come up with the following entitled "My Other Self":
You ask my other self
The one which answers words
Why I dream of you many times
Despite being tired of you
Give me your name
A wish upon my mind
A possible demand
Who am I writing of?
Against your wishes
I want to dream of you
And the thorns
Which are a perfume to me
Your colours
And your wines
Are bedclothes covers
Over me in the morning chill
Your mask suffocates me
With desirous skin
Which exists in this world
Nothing but shrunken
And withered to grey dust
--------------
When read in class it generally received good comments, especially about the first verse and final line. Another piece of writing I was quite happy with. Sadly I don't really know what it means, the words just came out after reading the extract. Oh well.
Strange isn't it? When I started uni just 6 months ago, I hated poetry (still do at times) but now a lot of my assignments are written in a poetic style. Maybe I'm a sell-out/fraud?
Showing posts with label university. Show all posts
Showing posts with label university. Show all posts
Monday, 7 March 2011
Sunday, 20 February 2011
Semester B - Week 2
This week we had to take a significant day in our life/lives and create three pieces out of it: a poem, dramatic treatment (stage script) and fictional treatment.
As I'm not a fan of poetry, I put this back to the last minute but it seemed to come out okay, I suppose seeing as poetry is usually just written in a style which may people may call bollocks. After this post I'll be sticking up part two of this week's assignment and hopefully by the end of the night be able to stick up part 3 so here it is:
Lying on a bed
Travelling down a hallway
With tubes in my arms
And parents by my side
Sending me soothing words
Nervous but excited
Tired but awake
Curious but knowledgeable
And aware of what’s to follow
After I fall asleep
Waiting in a room
Surrounded by tools
A needle points towards me
And gently enters my arm
Before I know it, I’m asleep
Finally asleep
Surrounded by surgeons
It’s time to start
Cutting things open
With a sharpened medical blade
Move forward 4 hours
Eyes flicker open
Wondering where I am
I’m in a hospital ward
Sterile, white and cold
Gosh, I’m in G.O.S.H
Surrounded by fellow operationees
All attached to machines
Making strange noises
Bleeps and buzzes and hums
With wires in my head
And tubes in my arms
I’m unable to move
From this bed with locked wheels
And plain white sheets
Parents arrive at my side
Ask if I’m okay
Not okay but alive
But still extremely tired
And able to sleep for a day
I’m lying in bed
On my road to the cure
Of an epileptic life
To be free from worries
And able to have more fun
The road is long
This is just the beginning
But I’m willing and ready
To be attached to a machine
For the long week ahead
As I'm not a fan of poetry, I put this back to the last minute but it seemed to come out okay, I suppose seeing as poetry is usually just written in a style which may people may call bollocks. After this post I'll be sticking up part two of this week's assignment and hopefully by the end of the night be able to stick up part 3 so here it is:
Lying on a bed
Travelling down a hallway
With tubes in my arms
And parents by my side
Sending me soothing words
Nervous but excited
Tired but awake
Curious but knowledgeable
And aware of what’s to follow
After I fall asleep
Waiting in a room
Surrounded by tools
A needle points towards me
And gently enters my arm
Before I know it, I’m asleep
Finally asleep
Surrounded by surgeons
It’s time to start
Cutting things open
With a sharpened medical blade
Move forward 4 hours
Eyes flicker open
Wondering where I am
I’m in a hospital ward
Sterile, white and cold
Gosh, I’m in G.O.S.H
Surrounded by fellow operationees
All attached to machines
Making strange noises
Bleeps and buzzes and hums
With wires in my head
And tubes in my arms
I’m unable to move
From this bed with locked wheels
And plain white sheets
Parents arrive at my side
Ask if I’m okay
Not okay but alive
But still extremely tired
And able to sleep for a day
I’m lying in bed
On my road to the cure
Of an epileptic life
To be free from worries
And able to have more fun
The road is long
This is just the beginning
But I’m willing and ready
To be attached to a machine
For the long week ahead
Thursday, 10 February 2011
1st writing of semester B
And so it has begun. Semester B, a time for us to fall asleep in lecture halls, listen to lecturers ramble on and do the odd piece of work. Having finished one piece already, I get a strange feeling that this semester may be a little harder than last sem. but, by the words of Daft Punk: Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger.
I've now finished my project about Sony Erriccson's Xperia Play mobile which got me a little food money but nothing huge. Oh well, the owner of the site I found the ad on made me a featured writer.
I'm also about to begin writing for another publication which apparently sends out it's work to hundreds of other publications. Is this a potential for more work? Who knows.
Now that I've written a fair amount, I'm going to stick a blog up with links to every piece (those which are still not yet online I'll post up with words.
Annnnnnnyway, moving on, here is my first piece for the semester in which we had to write about how we get into our emotions as a writer, what is the strongest of our senses and the earliest smell we can recall.
Enjoy!
---------------------------
To tap into my emotions as a writer I try to think of past events such as a family member suffering from alchoholism for two years which almost caused my family to break apart.
On another occasion I may be angry at something, and using this feeling I’ll put it onto paper in the form of a diary entry or scribble in a notepad and look at it at a later date and use the words to write something.
Another way to get into my emotions is with music. Being an eclectic listener, I’m happy to listen to almost any genre which suits my mood (currently some Saxon and Gary Moore*). Many songs which were released in the 90s and early 00s (Most notably, Daft Punk‘s ‘One More Time‘) will bring out a feeling of euphoria.
Like many people claim, my strongest sense is probably smell. I can usually remember if something smelt like a piece of fruit or how a certain area had it’s own smell. I can only remember someone’s voice or accent if it is very distinct or sounds like another person’s voice. However, most of the time I don’t take too much notice of a voice.
The earliest smell I can recall is that of rotten eggs. Not the best of smells but one that’ll undoubtedly stick in my mind for a long time due to it‘s strength and how many times it happens.
The smell came at the same time of year, every year, without fail. It would be a hot summer’s day (does anyone remember what that felt like?) a week or so before the summer holidays would kick in and all the 16 year olds would be leaving so, of course, they used this to their advantage. The following became something which we knew would happen but we didn’t know when.
So what was this advantage? It was that of being able to crack open a month-old egg and causing the whole block to smell of said rotten eggs without the risk of being expelled from the school for a length of time.
It would always be on a hot day when a group of us would be sat on the wall, eating what we once thought constituted lunch when, after a while of eating a smell would begin to emerge from one of the blocks. The smell would continuously get worse until it came to the point that we were running in the opposite direction, trying to get away from it. If you’d like to know what we had to suffer with, take a walk past the flats being built of Gallion’s Reach retail park. You’ll then be able to feel how we felt on those once-existent hot, summer days.
*Guitarist of Irish band Skid Row (not the 80s thrash band), Thin Lizzy and solo work who was recently found dead. May a legend R.I.P.
-------------------
To criticise my own work, I'm going to say I'm not too impressed with it (however, it is better than a piece I had to write about pensions whilst incredibly drunk) but I am happy with it and using this as my finalised piece.
Just for a treat here is some Gary Moore followed by Skid Row:
I've now finished my project about Sony Erriccson's Xperia Play mobile which got me a little food money but nothing huge. Oh well, the owner of the site I found the ad on made me a featured writer.
I'm also about to begin writing for another publication which apparently sends out it's work to hundreds of other publications. Is this a potential for more work? Who knows.
Now that I've written a fair amount, I'm going to stick a blog up with links to every piece (those which are still not yet online I'll post up with words.
Annnnnnnyway, moving on, here is my first piece for the semester in which we had to write about how we get into our emotions as a writer, what is the strongest of our senses and the earliest smell we can recall.
Enjoy!
---------------------------
To tap into my emotions as a writer I try to think of past events such as a family member suffering from alchoholism for two years which almost caused my family to break apart.
On another occasion I may be angry at something, and using this feeling I’ll put it onto paper in the form of a diary entry or scribble in a notepad and look at it at a later date and use the words to write something.
Another way to get into my emotions is with music. Being an eclectic listener, I’m happy to listen to almost any genre which suits my mood (currently some Saxon and Gary Moore*). Many songs which were released in the 90s and early 00s (Most notably, Daft Punk‘s ‘One More Time‘) will bring out a feeling of euphoria.
Like many people claim, my strongest sense is probably smell. I can usually remember if something smelt like a piece of fruit or how a certain area had it’s own smell. I can only remember someone’s voice or accent if it is very distinct or sounds like another person’s voice. However, most of the time I don’t take too much notice of a voice.
The earliest smell I can recall is that of rotten eggs. Not the best of smells but one that’ll undoubtedly stick in my mind for a long time due to it‘s strength and how many times it happens.
The smell came at the same time of year, every year, without fail. It would be a hot summer’s day (does anyone remember what that felt like?) a week or so before the summer holidays would kick in and all the 16 year olds would be leaving so, of course, they used this to their advantage. The following became something which we knew would happen but we didn’t know when.
So what was this advantage? It was that of being able to crack open a month-old egg and causing the whole block to smell of said rotten eggs without the risk of being expelled from the school for a length of time.
It would always be on a hot day when a group of us would be sat on the wall, eating what we once thought constituted lunch when, after a while of eating a smell would begin to emerge from one of the blocks. The smell would continuously get worse until it came to the point that we were running in the opposite direction, trying to get away from it. If you’d like to know what we had to suffer with, take a walk past the flats being built of Gallion’s Reach retail park. You’ll then be able to feel how we felt on those once-existent hot, summer days.
*Guitarist of Irish band Skid Row (not the 80s thrash band), Thin Lizzy and solo work who was recently found dead. May a legend R.I.P.
-------------------
To criticise my own work, I'm going to say I'm not too impressed with it (however, it is better than a piece I had to write about pensions whilst incredibly drunk) but I am happy with it and using this as my finalised piece.
Just for a treat here is some Gary Moore followed by Skid Row:
Sunday, 6 February 2011
More freelance stuff and the return to uni
So, as the title suggests, I've scored myself a little bit more freelance work - writing 3 pieces about medical schools/universities. Done one piece and waiting for feedback but I was happy with it so hopefully that's another tenner in my pocket. As the weekend is over I should be getting three more pieces from Pension Calculator (he did mention having plenty of needing to be done) and by placing some ads here and there online I'll hopefully be gaining some interest - persistence and cockiness can sometimes pay off, ya know?
I might stick up a post with links to every piece I've written just in case anyone is slightly interested in childs' savings news or pension advice. Or maybe you want to know about Bristol Med School or the city itself?
Part 2 of this blog is one of the better halves. Why? Semester B begins tomorrow which means more assignments and a weekly update of this blog (unless they give us something rediculously stupid). I'll also be able to use profanities in the work - being a big boy and all that crap (see what I did there) - and complain about the lecturers and time-tables (only one 9am start this time though).
Right, I'm just babbling now.
To finish off I'd just like to say R.I.P to Gary Moore - legendary guitary, I mean guitarist, of Skid Row (the Irish version before it was sold to the 80s metallers) and one of the classic line-ups of Thin Lizzy. Anyone who has heard his works will know what I mean. If not, here is the great Parisian Walkways with the also passed away Phil Lynott:
I might stick up a post with links to every piece I've written just in case anyone is slightly interested in childs' savings news or pension advice. Or maybe you want to know about Bristol Med School or the city itself?
Part 2 of this blog is one of the better halves. Why? Semester B begins tomorrow which means more assignments and a weekly update of this blog (unless they give us something rediculously stupid). I'll also be able to use profanities in the work - being a big boy and all that crap (see what I did there) - and complain about the lecturers and time-tables (only one 9am start this time though).
Right, I'm just babbling now.
To finish off I'd just like to say R.I.P to Gary Moore - legendary guitary, I mean guitarist, of Skid Row (the Irish version before it was sold to the 80s metallers) and one of the classic line-ups of Thin Lizzy. Anyone who has heard his works will know what I mean. If not, here is the great Parisian Walkways with the also passed away Phil Lynott:
Saturday, 29 January 2011
So, My Egg Nest may have taken me back (and more)
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of checking my emails and finding one from the site I was writing for which had an invoice with it for the previous work I've done. This email also mentioned that the boss of the place sends out payments on the last Friday of the month. Although that would have been nice to know two weeks ago, I'm just glad that I may be back on the writers team.
However, now that it's the weekend aka no work time I'll probably have to wait until Monday for any more correspondence from/between the site and, hopefully, said correspondence will involve some links being sent with articles for me to make a bit of money from which will, without much doubt, go towards Lucozade, cheap alchohol, clementines, travel around London for writing inspiration and snooker. Happy days may follow.
Along with this, I was recommended another site by a friend which is looking for marketing people to try and get local companies advertising on the site/magazine thing so I'm also applying for that job.
It seems that since starting university, I've written more articles, assignments and blogs than I did in school. It all goes on the C.V. I suppose.
And finally, semester B starts in just over a week. After a long 2 months Christmas holiday it'll be good to get back to work as, other than be ill, write articles, play snooker, read and sleep, I've had little else to do and no routine. Saying that, I believe it's not long until we have yet another reading/drinking week.
My life: the epitome of shits and giggles.
However, now that it's the weekend aka no work time I'll probably have to wait until Monday for any more correspondence from/between the site and, hopefully, said correspondence will involve some links being sent with articles for me to make a bit of money from which will, without much doubt, go towards Lucozade, cheap alchohol, clementines, travel around London for writing inspiration and snooker. Happy days may follow.
Along with this, I was recommended another site by a friend which is looking for marketing people to try and get local companies advertising on the site/magazine thing so I'm also applying for that job.
It seems that since starting university, I've written more articles, assignments and blogs than I did in school. It all goes on the C.V. I suppose.
And finally, semester B starts in just over a week. After a long 2 months Christmas holiday it'll be good to get back to work as, other than be ill, write articles, play snooker, read and sleep, I've had little else to do and no routine. Saying that, I believe it's not long until we have yet another reading/drinking week.
My life: the epitome of shits and giggles.
Monday, 10 January 2011
Beckton/UEL publication submission (non-academic)
This is a piece of writing I submitted for a new site about to pop up called ldmimpact.co.uk. It is a detailed review/information piece about the area I'm currently living in which is Beckton and UEL. Hopefully, if it's good enough, it'll be considered for online publication. Fingers crossed.
------------------------
Beckton, a place of Asda, retail parks and an academic arena known as The University of East London, Docklands. Being a student and resident of the aforementioned university, I have the pleasure, and sometimes displeasure, of the looks, sounds, smells and weather of this small area.
As I look out of my bedroom window on the second floor of Redbridge House, also known as the Yellow Building, I can see a big green building of the same size covered in windows. We call this place Shepherd House.
If I look to my right on the other hand, I can see the flowing water of the docks and a feeble, leafless tree being attacked by the high winds of January.
Beyond the docks is the London City Airport. Some might consider it a noisy place, especially when the planes start up their engines at seven in the morning. I, however, am used to the roaring of those flying machines. Due to this “skill”, I can continue my daily doings (I would say routine but what student has one of those?) and even sleep through the roar.
We then have the path beside the buildings which often smells of illicit substances and has kids riding their bikes up and down. If you’re lucky you might get involved in a 2am snowball war.
Outside of campus is the Docklands Light Railway, commonly known as the DLR or Cyprus. Outside of that there is very little of interest other than the community centre which many of us believe teaches the skill of graffiti and beyond (if anyone can confirm this, please get in touch) and a chemist. However, we can’t forget the newsagent’s slash off-license which provides us poor students with the pleasurable park bench cider and Polish beers.
Those who are fans of the smell of eggs will be glad to know that by standing outside of Templars, aka party, house you can have yourself a nice whiff of said smell. Those who aren’t fans of such should prepare themselves. I find a scarf does the job just fine.
Some people seem to be slightly unwise in these buildings as, at this moment in time, I can see through many windows, although unfortunately, nothing interesting is happening. If we’re lucky though, the view directly opposite from the kitchen shows another kitchen. I’ve found in the past that owners of the other kitchen are fans of three males dancing at the window.
When it comes to tenants in this place I often have the pleasure of catching my flatmate attempting to sing ‘Arabian Nights’ in its original language. From the repetitive wording, I’d say he is unsuccessful in that department. Keep to your sports, Tino, singing doesn’t suit you.
Would I recommend this are as a place to live? Yes and no, depending on what you’re looking for. If you wish to live in an uneventful place, seemingly in the middle of nowhere but with three retail parks nearby, Beckton is your place. If you wish to live in a lively area, keep well away.
---------------------------------
That's it for the first piece of writing. I've also contacted another person in regards to some writing but so far he hasn't replied.
From this point on I'm going to start sending out pieces for publication in the hopes that I can get some work further than the assignment submissions office.
I'll post up when I get notice of whether it is due for publication or not :)
------------------------
Beckton, a place of Asda, retail parks and an academic arena known as The University of East London, Docklands. Being a student and resident of the aforementioned university, I have the pleasure, and sometimes displeasure, of the looks, sounds, smells and weather of this small area.
As I look out of my bedroom window on the second floor of Redbridge House, also known as the Yellow Building, I can see a big green building of the same size covered in windows. We call this place Shepherd House.
If I look to my right on the other hand, I can see the flowing water of the docks and a feeble, leafless tree being attacked by the high winds of January.
Beyond the docks is the London City Airport. Some might consider it a noisy place, especially when the planes start up their engines at seven in the morning. I, however, am used to the roaring of those flying machines. Due to this “skill”, I can continue my daily doings (I would say routine but what student has one of those?) and even sleep through the roar.
We then have the path beside the buildings which often smells of illicit substances and has kids riding their bikes up and down. If you’re lucky you might get involved in a 2am snowball war.
Outside of campus is the Docklands Light Railway, commonly known as the DLR or Cyprus. Outside of that there is very little of interest other than the community centre which many of us believe teaches the skill of graffiti and beyond (if anyone can confirm this, please get in touch) and a chemist. However, we can’t forget the newsagent’s slash off-license which provides us poor students with the pleasurable park bench cider and Polish beers.
Those who are fans of the smell of eggs will be glad to know that by standing outside of Templars, aka party, house you can have yourself a nice whiff of said smell. Those who aren’t fans of such should prepare themselves. I find a scarf does the job just fine.
Some people seem to be slightly unwise in these buildings as, at this moment in time, I can see through many windows, although unfortunately, nothing interesting is happening. If we’re lucky though, the view directly opposite from the kitchen shows another kitchen. I’ve found in the past that owners of the other kitchen are fans of three males dancing at the window.
When it comes to tenants in this place I often have the pleasure of catching my flatmate attempting to sing ‘Arabian Nights’ in its original language. From the repetitive wording, I’d say he is unsuccessful in that department. Keep to your sports, Tino, singing doesn’t suit you.
Would I recommend this are as a place to live? Yes and no, depending on what you’re looking for. If you wish to live in an uneventful place, seemingly in the middle of nowhere but with three retail parks nearby, Beckton is your place. If you wish to live in a lively area, keep well away.
---------------------------------
That's it for the first piece of writing. I've also contacted another person in regards to some writing but so far he hasn't replied.
From this point on I'm going to start sending out pieces for publication in the hopes that I can get some work further than the assignment submissions office.
I'll post up when I get notice of whether it is due for publication or not :)
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Just a quick heads up.
Just to let readers know I won't be posting as often as I used to for the next 2 months as semester A is finished and as a result we are not given any assignments to complete (excluding a 1500 word essay about what I've enjoyed this year).
However, as I now have more time on my hands I will be able to begin writing more freely for a while which means more stories as opposed to academia. Unfortunately posts will be infrequent as some stories and songs take longer to finish than others.
The blog will continue to live on though so no worries there.
- Pete :)
However, as I now have more time on my hands I will be able to begin writing more freely for a while which means more stories as opposed to academia. Unfortunately posts will be infrequent as some stories and songs take longer to finish than others.
The blog will continue to live on though so no worries there.
- Pete :)
Monday, 6 December 2010
Week 8 - Write a 3 Haiku and 50 word story
Quite a simple little assignment in which we were required to write a 3-line haiku (short poem consisting of 5, 7, 5 syllables), absolute piece of piss and then, in part two, we had to write a story of only 50 words, no more, no less.
So here they are:
Part 1. - 3 Haiku
Walking down the stairs
Falling on a razor wire
Bones break with a crash
Part 2. - 50 Word Story
I slipped on a pair of industrial gloves and picked up the corrosive acid. Using a metal syringe I sucked up a small amount and walked towards my victim with a smile on my face. As I stood above him and pushed the plunger he released an ear-splitting scream.
* A quick word of note here: I kind of cheated in this one as this was a very small extract of something I'm surrently writing. However, this extract is heavily edited and nowhere near as long as the original which I would have put in had we more words.
**********
As mentioned, I'm still working on my story and currently on 783 words with an approximate aim of around 2000. I've got the next part in my head, just need to write it down now. Keep checking this space.
So here they are:
Part 1. - 3 Haiku
Walking down the stairs
Falling on a razor wire
Bones break with a crash
Part 2. - 50 Word Story
I slipped on a pair of industrial gloves and picked up the corrosive acid. Using a metal syringe I sucked up a small amount and walked towards my victim with a smile on my face. As I stood above him and pushed the plunger he released an ear-splitting scream.
* A quick word of note here: I kind of cheated in this one as this was a very small extract of something I'm surrently writing. However, this extract is heavily edited and nowhere near as long as the original which I would have put in had we more words.
**********
As mentioned, I'm still working on my story and currently on 783 words with an approximate aim of around 2000. I've got the next part in my head, just need to write it down now. Keep checking this space.
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