The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Now, I’m back after watching Doctor Who, eating my tea and discovering the loss of one of my cold caps. Hmm, I'd been thinking that I had to go to the dentist soon?

But back to the show: it was fast paced, humorous and served as a good introduction to the Doctors new assistant Martha. I’d thoroughly enjoyed it!

And the hospital scene set on the moon, with a little old lady as the baddie.

Yep, nice touch, Doctor Who is back!!

A new season of Doctor Who starts tonight.

I am a fan, yes.

last year at the first Dr. Who at The Cavern, the first little expo there, I met Debbie Watling, a former assitant from 1966 who I adored, still do.

I've been watching it since the first one in 1963 ..my favourite tv show

first cheating fiancee and second Love was twenty years ago.

second cheating fiancee and third Love was ten years ago.

but, it still often feels like yesterday...

the effin hand has tendonitis, raynards and arthritis in two fingers.

for the last couple of days the left wrist has been giving me intense pain.

and, no jokes please?



(okay, arn't I lucky I'm right handed!)

I have a Heinz 57 tower, my 'clean machine' and a lil bady Dell Latitude CPt

and have just acquired an Acer, to be brought to my spec, by my friend.

One thing I've learnt so far here: and I'd imagine, elsewhere ~ people do not always have the open minds and heart they profess to have; nor do they contribute, as they maintain they will.

and to be blunt, a lot of people, in general, are wankers, who expect, but don't deliver.



that saddens me greatly.

The parents have gone to Hospital, where my Mothers having her injection in her neck to stabilise its movement, as she has every three months. Warm as it is of late, my left hand is really hurting right Now and I'm wearing my woollen glove: and believe me, it does make typing difficult.

Since I was young, 'a few' years ago, the character of Ghost Rider was one of my favourite comic characters.

Nicholas Cage is one of my favourite actors..

I read this critique, I have to see..



Ghost Rider



Review by Chris Tookey



Verdict: Comic-book garbage, lovingly recycled.



(three stars, out of five)



Normally, you can expect any movie that wasn’t shown to the American critics to be abysmal, but Ghostrider is an exception.

I can see why it has leapt straight to the top of the U.S. box office, and it will do the same here.

This is trash aimed principally at teenage boys, but it’s high-quality, Marvel comic-book trash: cinematic in scale and manufactured with visual panache.

I much prefer this kind of unpretentious entertainment to the dreary self-congratulatory solemnity of Oscar bait such as Babel.

As a movie inspired by a comic-strip, Ghost Rider is not on the level of Spider Man 2, but it is a definite step up from Daredevil and several long strides up from Elekra, writer-director Mark Stevens last two forays into the genre.

It’s also sufficiently aware of it’s inanities to be enjoyable as camp.

Ghost Rider stars Nicholas Cage in a wig he seems to have borrowed from the younger Sean Connery. Cage is Johnny Blaze, a daredevil motorcyclist with a bizarre liking for the Carpenters – maybe it’s because they share his liking for the middle of the road.

The reason Blaze survives accidents which would kill anyone else but him or Richard Hammond is that as a teenager he sold his soul to the Devil, who turns out to be Peter Fonda with a weird plasticated skin, giving a vocal impression of Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry.



Johnny’s sale of his soul – in order to save Dad from cancer – but Blaze has to pay his dues by becoming the Devil’s debt collector. This involves roaring around on a motorcycle, transformed into a burning, skeletal special effect who punishes muggers with an on-the-spot death penalty.



Really, it is unclear how this behaviour fits in ethically with his status as an employee of Satan, but it makes him an arresting sight (imagine Dixon of Dock Green played by Ozzy Osborne). As one heavy-metal fan puts it after witnessing his undead vigilante act: ‘It was an edge look, but he totally pulled it off.’

After the hellish shambles that was The Wicker Man , the talented but taste-challenged Cage needed to do something quickly to revive his career, and here he falls back on the zen Elvis act he first tried out on Wild At Heart.

Occasionally, he pulls of his shirt to reveal a chest even more Impressive than that of the luscious Eva Mendes, playing opposite him as his childhood sweetheart, turned hotshot local TV reporter.

Sadly, the script doesn’t see fit to give her a personality, merely a succession of partially unbuttoned blouses.

But why does she go to Blazes?

Thinking people may find it hard to discern what she sees in the biker from Hell., who has a less than blazing intellect and the conversational powers of Wayne Rooney.

Perhaps it’s his teeth, which appear to be the ones Steve McClaren rejected as just too blindingly white?

Teenage boys, however will flock to see this movie in their millions, and won’t be bothered that it doesn’t make a scintilla of sense, romantically or theologically.

The villains of the piece are Blackheart (Wes Bentley), who’s the son of Satan and looks like a slightly more clean-living Pete Docherty, plus three elemental sidekicks who obligingly attack Cage on by one, so they can be destroyed spectactularly, if rather repetitively.

After 85 minutes of these assaults Cage sighs: ‘Is this thing ever gonna end?’

The sentiment will be shared by some grown-ups. The appeal of the movie is far from intellectual.

But, I still had a grudging admiration for it.

Ghost Rider does capture the macho thrill of riding a powerful motorcycle and saving a girl who might look confident but still needs to be rescued from bad guys every now and then.

It’s witless, but shrewd in the way it celebrates the superiority of masculinity over sensitivity, action over verbiage and courage over sense.

It’s probably no accident that it kept reminding me of that other very physical world of football. Ghost Rider is like a Roy Keane sliding tackle. It’s brutal and hardly a thing of grace or beauty, but it’s undeniably effective.

I've been busyon a sunny Sunday, which is why I'm hyper Now and not asleep.

Beside which I have BST blues.



British Summer Time: the clocks go foward and put your internal clock outta wack.

..bad news. As I learnt. You are not the best judge of your work. You are your own worst critic and rarely will you see how good it is.

it's why I seek reflection from others, when making a judgement, about most thing, but particularly my writing.

after all, how can I tell if someone else will like something I've written?

I can't.

just my opinion. But, until someone finds a btter theory, it's a good one and works for me.. my writing and drawing are important to me, as a means of expression and creativity.

And talking of wheelie-bins, as I had; ours are green for rubbish, grey for recyling and brown for garden waste: saying that, we mulch anyway.

And I'll be quick, the clocks go forward tonight.

*cough*

My parents put them forward last night. Just a mistake. But, they left them that that through the day, after all, it would have been likeke doing them twice.

But, it was a tad confusing, looking at the clock through the day and detracting the hour to know what the time was!

I was reminded that at least one of the pictures on my portfolio could lead to it being suspended, or deleted, as their was a nipple showing.

We were, or had been talking a drawing here ..an illustration. Art.

But, notice that was past tense.

I followed the rules and self-censored my work, by removing it, instead of desecrating it with airbrush.

Why I'm annoyed?

An illustrative nipple is deemed offensive, whilst images of self-harm and harm to others are not regarded as such.

Yes, I'm talking of the moving gifs, of eyeballs being pierced and wrists being slit ..correctly.

That's okay ..all of it.

While an illustrative nipple is deemed offensive ..whatta world.

I just had to censor my portfolio, I'm livid.

I was reminded, by a Senior, politely, then a stenoriun wouldn't like the nipple on an illustration of mine: an effin cartoon.

So, I self-censored my work by removing it, instead of air brushing.

If you can't show real art ..there's something seriously wrong somewhere.

it was used by Tommy Hanley.

a 1940's radio comedian in Britain.

it was something he said at the end of the radio show 'ITMA'; (It's That Man Again.)

first one went off with best friend.

second one overlapped me, as she had others before me, after saying "Don't worry, I'm not like all the others."

she knew I have issues with trust and

she had been.

also, my best friends knew she was cheating and didn't tell me 'as we didn't want to hurt you Neil.'

then, much later, through confidence class,

I learnt that what you can't change, you must accept.

that'd been my life lesson.

I'm content, yet still frustrated about the unemployment.. that said, I've just applied for another job and maybe, just maybe, I'll here something positive about it. Maybe?

Either way, its voluntary work today ~ and, would you believe, I've now got keys for the church, where we serve our meals.

I try to write.

I'm getter better at Hangman, but these games are the only times I've been competitive, except for a lesbian in a bar and we played pool and kareoke together.

we also fancied the same girls.

but, 'dogfight'!

as soon as I think I'm being competitive, I just lose my edge! Arrghhh..

I couldn't answer 'yes' if I were pressured into it.

and then, if someone did, I'd say 'no' out of sheer spite.

just being thoughtful.

I'm being helpful tomoprrow.

so, I'm mulling in a mellow manner.



Hmmm ..I like the sound of that.

And, everything is conservation and reclamation Now, which is a good thing, obviously. We need to conserve this planets resources.

So, yesterday we got a third wheelie-bin, a grey one, for paper and plastic and tins.

So there they sit in the back, the green one for the household rubbish; a brown one for garden rubbish and the grey one that arrived on Wednesday the 14th

And then, the next morning I’d looked out the front window to see a white truck and another set of fellows leaving a grey wheelie-bin outside the bungalows on our block.

Talk about invasion of the wheelie-bins.

A fellow over the road collared one of the fellows, to politely assure them that a delivery had already been made.

My little Mother had stood at the window and given a thumbs up, to indicate that we’d already had a grey bin delivered.

So, the ones dropped off were picked up.

But, as I write this, a thought occurs to me – we live at the end of the road.

Did they start dropping off these new grey wheelie-bins off at this end of the road, or the other?

My father got a new car. Strange, he isn’t normally an impulse buyer: although saying that he has been looking at motor-price mag’s of late, now come to think of it.

Anyway, my personal drought ended: and it was good.

Thing was, I had been in Wallasey and had to be in Bromborough and had just missed the bus.

And I’ve walked it to there and it takes two hours or more, since time number seven and the left knee went at Bromborough Village.

And I had to get back, to phone my friend, to call round about nine, to watch the ultimate episode of ‘Heroes’, for awhile.

So, I figured, I had to get home. And eight was the deadline, really.

And I’d missed the bus. The answer was simple: walk.

But, that meant walking through Seacombe, Wallasey. My like, most unfavourite place in the Wirral. I don’t like the place, at all.

But, the walk had been done, as it had to be. I had so get home.

So I walked, enduring the not-o pleasant sounds from young feminine mouths, as I don’t dress like them, I walked onto. To the station.

And the end of the walk, spent with a thumping heartbeat, I reached Hamilton Square Station, having conquered a dragon; and faced paranoid thoughts of death at every corner; having had a quick ‘toke on the way.

And I’d got home, to watch ultimate episode of ‘Heroes’, for awhile with my friend.

we all have reason to complain about Life.

I feel the skill is not doing so and trying to work through our problems.

so says He, who has been told 20 years ago, he had manic depression.

Now though, my attitude is a little different: simply because I don't like moaning to others and boring them.

I'm applying for a job today, looking for jobs, enjoying writing, doing gardening, going for a walk, reading a little; doing my voluntary work and visiting VR when I can.



I look forward to using my time constructively.. there you go, my plans for the week.

Friday I went to Wallasey, well nearer New Brighton, to go for a drink with a friend and her husband, on her birthday. While there several others joined us she knows, one of whom I’ve not seen in years. And boy, did she and I talk, non-stop, for ages.

Grant you, I got home before the idiots came out to play: but, I’d had one really good evening.

Then, this Saturday I went to Hunts Cross Liverpool and a friend from the project picked me up and took me back to his, where his Mrs.

a Chinese young lady, cooked the most filling, tasty meal in ages.

Then we’d taken a walk round Calderstones Park.

That was two excellent days in a row: anyone might imagine I was developing a social life.

it's taken me all day to get ready, to go for a pint. Geez, I'm far worse than any woman that I know for getting ready!!

in response to a comment about being thrown off VR like a bucking bronco, it was suggested I got measured up for an e-gun, which I thought hilarious.

would you believe, I have a book that used to be my Fathers, called 'Triggernometry'

it teaches how to fast draw!

The story under its original title (French) originally appeared in the magazine ‘Metal Hurlant’ about twenty years ago and was reprinted in ‘Heavy Metal’ awhile later, which was when I became truly hooked on the story, for it’s art and the story, which I’d ended up reading completely out of order: until I’d collected all its part.

Other than ‘Sin City,’ it is only film I’ve ever seen that is so faithful to its original source material: perhaps it is because the artist himself was so closely involved.

As for 'The Immortal' ~ excellent movie.

As stylish as 'Sky Captain' and 'Sin City' and like 'Sin City,' it was faithful to its comic source.

You should see the original: geez, it must've taken the artist 20 years to bring that to film.. loved it.

This morning I had to do first aid for my mother who was having a really bad asthma attack: not fun ~ not my Mum.



So, once I had the opportunity to do so, I'd watched Jake West's, 'Evil Aliens.'



I would recommend it to anyone who liked either, 'Razor Blade Smile' or Troma films like, 'Street Trash.'

just been out to the back garden, to take a picture of a lunar full moon, an hour and a half later.

the result is quite good and will be in my portfolio, in 5 minutes.

I tried to take pictures.

I often take them of a full moon.

But, I went out as totality was begining.

It's a clear night.



It was impressive.

At the end of a pretty good blue sky day, I ended up trawling the net, as you do: and I came upon http://www.freakingnews.com

I only went there for five minutes ~ and then and hour and a half later, here I am.



Geez, to anyone who likes imagery, that site is addictive!

..it's sunny as I type. My Mother is having her hair done and nattering away.

Gawd knows where my Dad is, hiding I guess.

And, I'm looking forward to voluntary work ~

time to lose the beard, I guess..