Detached

Autumn, the leaves fall at the slow sleepy gentle pace of our love-making,

What used to be fucking that cliché now embodies.
Bodies convulsing in this Indian summer’s

heat, under that absurd duvet from your
childhood, and you’re still attached.

To me and to it.

Outlet, December 2010

My proudest poem for creative writing.

Outlet
A breath of conscious thought
Jolting me into reality
Electrocutes my circuit veins.
How quickly I pull my hand away,
But that tickle lingers.
My flesh is reddened-raw.
The heart struggles to escape its prison.
Tears splash into my wiry hair
As the scream reverberates.
But it’s done more good than harm.
Pain, another Life Lesson learned.

Hades Shadow, December 2010

The sonnet assignment for creative writing. Get kinky with it ;)

Hades’ Shadow
You are but a shadow dancing in light
Disappearing in the darkest hour.
Whilst I lie alone in the dead of night,
I cannot elude your siren power.
This addiction to your bitter-sweet touch
Is beyond what my poor heart can withstand.
I am in anguish from living as such;
While I watch the ebbing hour-glass sand.
I loath what fuels this eternal flame’
For it burns with insatiable desire.
I forever seek to escape this game
Yet at every turn I’m engulfed by your fire.
        Because I remain victim of your spell,
        Faithfully, I wait, at the gates of Hell.

Sweet Demise, December 2010

Another piece for creative writing.

Sweet Demise 
He escapes into the dark night
As black as his liver must be
To purchase a long necked idol
And worships with clasped hands, eyes shut.
Salty water baptizes his cheeks
As he kisses what is holy.
The liquid burn ignites his soul
Relief floods throughout his body.
Finally he is born anew. 

He knows these nightly prayers are false.
Promising only a moment,
And the façade is quick to fade.
But at least it’s a chance at bliss,
However short lived it may be.
How can he not give thanks and praise
To the sweet spice of sacrifice?
It has to be a gift from God.
It’s been his only connection. 

When the sky becomes a medley
Of pink, purple and golden hues;
And birds sing melodiously
To thank the sun for its return
He does not stir, idol in hand.
His limp body of gray and white,
Will not be found for days on end,
The silent pretense of his house
Gave no alert to the neighbors.

There was no one left to notice
A man’s shameful whiskey downfall.
But in the end he wasn’t wrong,
His prayers had finally brought him
One step closer to meeting God.

The Horror of Fear, November 3, 2012

Fourth British Horror paper, don't ask me what happened in between these one's my memory falls short. I don't hate it though.

The Horror of Fear

Professor Leicester’s essay, “What’s a Horror Movie?”, discusses the concept of defining, “the discourse of horror,” by the repetition of certain, “elements, whether words or images or bodily motions or institutions that can be used to signify horror (the affect), because they’ve been used that way before” (2).  Michael Reeves’ Witchfinder General (1968) conforms to these criteria of “horror”. Based on its basic content of gore, rape, the perceived supernatural, and screaming women it can be discerned that this movie has clearly, “seen other horror films”.  While the movie does mirror its predecessors, it also serves as its own form of, “the mirror stage,” to its viewer by mimicking repetitive human nature, thus, “convert[ing] the image to, and treat[ing] it as, a body capable of being desired or feared” (Leicester 13, 15).  Witchfinder General (1968), based on real events, is set in a time of great upheaval during Britain’s civil war, and genuinely reflects the way people react during times of political unrest.  The witch hunt performed by Mathew Hopkins and his sadistic assistant, John Stearne, exemplifies the results of powerful people using fear-mongering as a control device.  Actual witch hunts took place around the world until the late 18th century, causing several innocent people to be tortured and killed.  Witchfinder General (1968) depicts the cruelty that had been administered to the accused during the scenes in which the priest, chained and imprisoned, is brutally abused in order to coerce his “confession”, as well as the “public trial,” where he and two women are thrown into a moat as a test of witchcraft.  Beyond the disgust and discomfort that the “elements of horror” cause, the film illustrates the frightening reality of human vulnerability to manipulation.

After Hopkins informs Stearne that he is finally allowed to inflict pain upon John Lowes, the accused priest, the camera closes up on Stearne’s smiling face and, in accordance with the stock elements of “horror”, the man breaks into maniacal laughter.  A match cut then displays Lowes, chained and bleeding, as Stearne beats him and demands a confession. Hopkins, Tom Salter, and another man watch the interrogation from outside the cell.  Despite his suffering, a weakened Lowes still refuses to admit to any crimes.  It is at this point that Hopkins insists that, “he confessed, you heard him.”  When Tom Salter -out of explicit voyeuristic pleasure, rather than the pursuit of truth- denies this assertion, Stearne, “refresh[es] his memory.”  He grabs Salter’s shirt collar and slams him into the bars that separate them.  Salter immediately revokes his previous position with a frantic nod.  Although Salter has no difficulties watching an innocent man treated with great cruelty, when his own safety is threatened he becomes inclined to protect himself.  He has seen the torment these men have subjected and his terror compels him to succumb to their demands.  Unlike Salter, who stands as close as possible to observe the physical violation of Lowes, the other man stands at a considerable distance from the action.  He immediately accepts Hopkins’ assertion that he too heard the confession.  This man has now seen the agony Hopkins is capable of producing to the accused, as well his reaction to being contradicted.  Beyond any physical threats, the man has now ascertained the magnitude of power these men have within the alleged judicial process.  Naturally, his instantaneous compliance is motivated by his own trepidation at these discoveries.  The scene ends when, with a nod of his head, Hopkins utters a single word: “witnesses”.

Once again, the following scene transitions with a match cut featuring several villagers following the condemned with the intention of being, “witnesses,” to the atrocious treatment of their peers.  As the mob makes its way towards the moat, the camera closes up on three nooses hanging from a tree.  This particular shot serves to represent the preconceived fate of the three, “confessed idolaters.”  During the journey to the destination, the crowd is rambunctious and seemingly excited for the proceedings.  When “Stearne go[es] on with [his] task,” the group’s attitude rapidly shifts as the yells and laughter cease, leaving only the pleading screams of the victims.  The previous enthusiasm for the theoretical swiftly depreciates as reality sets in.  This type of response identifies with the notion that, “failures of repression... make[s] the source of what turns [someone] on and what horrifies [someone] the same thing,” implying that the general group is both aroused and appalled by their own fear (Leicester,12) .  After the alleged are lowered into the water, Lowes and one other woman swim to stay afloat while the second woman sinks and is allowed to drown.  As a result, the first two are considered to, “have the mark of Satan upon them,” while the latter, now dead, is determined innocent.  Hopkins’ skewed version of, “Due Process,” in this scene manages to instill fear amongst the masses.  Those who believe in his accounts of witches and their characteristics will undoubtedly spread their fears by speaking of their “firsthand encounters”.  After seeing the unavoidable results of being accused, others might join the mob mentality as an instinctual method to remain safe from suspicion.  In other words, those who contradict Hopkins’ practices, such as Sara Lowes and Richard Marshall, are susceptible to torture and quite possibly death.

“What a horror movie offers is ‘horror,’ a discursive or Symbolic presentation of what has been previously made by culture in order to call forth horror” (Leicester, 16).  Witchfinder General (1968) uses Mathew Hopkins as a representation of powerful self- serving people who find opportunity in despair.  During times of unease, such as war, citizens can often feel uneasy about their safety.  During the introduction the narrator states that, “the structure of law and order has collapsed, “and the “justice and injustice are dispensed in more or less equal quantities, and without opposition.”  This environment allows for the easy manipulation of frightened citizens in search of some sense of safety.  The need for control causes the people in this film to go along with these witch hunts.  Mathew Hopkins capitalizes on the unease and fear of these people by fostering a greater sense of fear through the public torture of innocent people.  The “horror” offered in this film is the breakdown of society without structured government and law and the loss of morality brought about by such circumstances.

Camera Angles: An Effect on Affect, October 7, 2010

My first paper in British Horror. Erik Bachman said that it was "a promising start to the quarter." I'll hold onto that win forever!

Camera Angles: An Effect on Affect

Director, Val Guest, creates a world that is once again faced with the threat of conquering aliens in his film, “Quatermass 2”.  Throughout the sci-fi horror film, certain techniques are employed to establish inter-film connections to its audience.  When two of the characters first arrive to the scene of paranormal occurrences, the use of a high-angle shot creates a link to a preceding image.  Later on in the movie, when Quatermass involves his detective friend, several film devices are used to establish the point where “the plot thickens.”  In this particular scene there is a shot-reverse-shot sequence in the first person as well as a close up that make this encounter markedly dramatic.  It is with the use of these angles and shot sequences that the characters discover the most disturbing oddities, producing moments that are more noticeable and therefore more meaningful to the viewer. 

When the protagonist, Quatermass, enters his laboratory he and one of his colleagues begin to discuss their plans to colonize the moon.  During their conversation, there is a clear view of the structural model that they plan to build as the two men look down upon it.  Later on in the film, Quatermass and his assistant, Marsh, head to the location of the alleged meteorite landing.  It is here that the audience is presented with a similar image.  When the men arrive, a high-angle shot frames what has become of Winnerton Flats.  Several futuristic-looking large steel domes can be seen beneath them. The shot is filmed from behind the two men displaying their distance from the structure, along with their size relation.  At the same time, the high-angle shot has the effect of making to structure appear smaller than it would be from a different angle.  With the size distortion that this angle projects, the buildings look very similar to the model seen in the laboratory.  Because the view is partially blocked by the men, it is difficult to tell how exact the structure is.  The two men look down upon the “factory” as they would look at their own design to create a sub-atmosphere beyond their planet.  Although Quatermass dismisses the likeness as, “a coincidence of shapes,” an eerie parallel has been drawn.

After Quatermass has confirmed his suspicions of alien life forms, he pays a second visit to inspector Lomax to inspire a government investigation.  He convinces the inspector to bring the matter to the commissioner.  Lomax approaches his superior with an air of respect, but a shot-reverse shot sequence leading to a revealing close-up create instant fear.  The shot originally is aimed at Lomax when something clearly catches his eye. Then, in the first person perspective, the camera closes up on the commissioner's right hand.  He seems to be casually scanning over his reading material, holding a pen between his fingers.  What really stands out in the shot is the, “jagged V,” embedded into the skin.  The shot then refocuses on Lomax’s horrified face, then there is one more close up of the commissioner’s mark.  The dramatic angles and shot sequence signify frightening realization of further infection.  The close up of the hand, a small part of the human body, takes up the greater part of the screen.  The shots of this scene mirror the goings-on within the film; what they thought was infecting a small area may actually be a large-scale invasion.

Although, unlike conventional literature, film does not have the opportunity to describe in great detail what it wants to be seen, several cinematic techniques can be used to convey a deeper context to what may otherwise seem like an unimportant scene.  Music and lighting are often applied in films to set a particular mood or tone.  More subtly however, the way the camera captures a film singles out the most important subject matter.  A simple shift in angle can force the viewer’s eye to the most significant aspects of a story.  In the case of this film these methods emphasize the most paranormal moments, which implies that its intention was to zero-in on, “what the film thought ought to scare you.”

Why I write, September 28, 2010

This one is a little newer from my very first quarter at UCSC.  My first assignment for my creative writing class last fall was a response to the question "Why do you write?"  Apart from the bit about knowing no one who cares (I found my people) it is still true.

Why I Write

It is ironic that when asked why I write I am at a loss for words.  I suppose that I write because I rarely have nothing to say.  In a world where spontaneous verbal outbursts are generally frowned upon, writing becomes the only viable outlet.

When I began school it became apparent that the way I chose to communicate would never be understood.  My teachers and peers did not appreciate my “excessive” interest in the randomness of life.  It was only when we were taught to write that I could spend my days expressing myself.  The scratch of my pen was easily mistaken as the execution of times tables.  When I write, I can say anything and everything.

Recently a friend of mine asked me what my ideal job would entail.  After a moment of thought it came to me; I want to talk all day long.  Naturally, she suggested teaching.  But she didn't understand.  I want to spend my days talking about the things that interest me: my everyday musings and observations.  Things that matter to no one, but affect everyone.

I want to spend a four-hour car ride contemplating the invention of the automatic seat-belt. Who came up with this creation?  Were the government and car manufacturers in alliance to encourage car safety?  And why are humans so intent on such simplifications?  As you can imagine, not many people are so fascinated by my boundless curiosities.  But I would suffer greatly without an outlet for all of my questions: the things I need to know and want other people to think about.

So I write.  I write because I know no one who cares.  I write because I know there is someone who cares.   I write for my own sanity.  I write because with my pen I can translate the language of my mind.  I write because it is the only thing I have ever loved.  I write because words are my medium, my art.