Monday, 17 December 2012

Getting The Movies Game Up And F**king Running

... on a Windows 7 64-bit system like my beautiful HP Intel Core i3 blah-blah majesty, that gives every game made before it the cold shoulder. Like The Sims 2. Did I tell you about my The Sims 2 pain? Well I won't. It hurts. I dread to think what fuss it will make about Restaurant Empire.

I have searched the web long and hard for answers, and by stringing together bits and pieces, I finally found the answer! The Movies runs! YAAAAAY

So here I'll post the full step-by-step guide hoping that I will A - help someone else in need and B - not miss anything out.


1. Insert The Movies disc into computer. DO NOT AUTORUN or some (Library not registered) message or another error comes up.

2. Go to CD/DVD drive, right click, Open In New Window. Right click on The Movies(TM) (it’s says Windows Installer under ‘Type’) -> Properties -> Compatibility -> Tick ‘Run This Program In Compatibility Mode For’ and select ‘Previous Version Of Windows’.

3. OPTION A: There re two ways to do this bit. Either copy files onto hard drive: My Computer -> right click CD/DVD drive -> copy -> paste in Local C disc whatever. Then, go to the Setup.exe file (under ‘Type’ it says ‘Application’), right click and Run As Administrator.

(the following method is easier)

3. OPTION B: Go to CD/DVD via My Computer. Right click on it (it should show the Movies game icon) and Open In New Window. From there, simply find the Setup.exe file (it might just be ‘Setup’, type is ‘Application) and Run As Administrator.

So, two different ways of saying essentially the same thing.

4. It will ask for your key code, install, ask if you want to register, install Windows Player 9, or DirectX 9. Finished installation and makes a shortcut on desktop.

(this is the fuck-up.)


5. Double clicking the My Computer CD drive brings up a compatibility issue window – click ‘Run Program’. Then it will (probably) say: "Library not registered" or “Cannot locate The Movies(TM) CD. Please insert the CD and restart application.” So, naturally, I try the Desktop shortcut. This does more or less the same thing, even though I haven’t removed the CD after I installed the game.


6. Right click desktop shortcut. Properties -> Compatibility tab -> Select ‘Run this program in compatibility mode for:’. Now, most people advise Windows XP (Service Pack 3), failing that, Windows XP (Service Pack 2). However I got the same ‘cannot locate CD’ BS.

Yahoo! Answers: Issues With The Movies On Windows 7

7. You must set compatibility mode to Window 98 / Windows Me, then right click shortcut and Run As Administrator.

AND THEN IT WILL RUN. At least, it did for me.

After so long, IT WORKS! I AM JOVIAL!!

Star x



Wednesday, 12 December 2012

12/12/12 & Tribute To

A Banner I was using a lot on the Forum. 

It's the last time the date will be the 12th of the 12th of 2012 in my lifetime. The next time will be in the year 2112, when all of us are dead.

SO, to celebrate that very joyous and happy tone, let's reminisce.


Without The New B5 Online forum, I wouldn't be the writer I am today (whatever the fuck that means, but you get the point.) When I was most inspired to write, I was part of a great community that consisted of a bunch of motivated, hilarious and intriguing people - who I'm sure exist in the world somewhere and aren't paedophiles (LOL) - my point is that I don't personally know anybody like the Forum Girls in real life. Which might be insinuating that I didn't have a life back then, I don't know.

My 'Forum Days' feel so, so long ago, but there are some things I remember as clear as day.


The recurring topic - and point - of the forum. This boyband has done more comebacks than Diddy, though admittedly they only changed their name once - to Audio. -sigh- I shake my head and slap it and cringe and vom.

The point is, their comebacks were rarely successful after they left Badboy Record (Diddy's label) and it was a shame, as they kept trying and were making progress. Of course, until they renounced R&B and started doing all the shit that's making Usher and Black Eyed Peas more these days. Yeah.

I will never deny that 'Put Me On', 'Erica Cane' and 'Ice Cream' were songs so great that compared to the rest of their album, you wonder if they were on crack when they recorded it. They were like Drake - when they were bad, they were REALLY bad, but when they were good it was like, 'Well durh! Where have you been hiding the last two tracks?' B5 had personalities that were so perfect for crafting stories, plus they kept contact with their fans through various social networks. And after all, they were the source that brought the Forum gang together.

Stories and their Writers

This is the part where I sound geeky and nerdy, but it's kinda important to me so stfu.

Roundabout the time the forum started up, there were some people doing stories that EVERYBODY loved. There were so popular and constantly being 'BUMP' -ed. ('bump' means they want to to write more.)

by SavageSwagg, or Jahmoni Nicole as we knew her after. I don't what  WHAT it is about this story that was so addicting, but it was probably because its twists were so good and unpredictable that you couldn't stop reading. I keep refreshing the story in my head so I don't forget it.

-There was this one story that was a Twilight fanfic with B5 in it. Loads of people loved it and I remember it being somewhat interesting. It was written by Pink Bandana Stories. (I would be so pissed after writing a story that good and then finding Fifty Shades published... fail)

Since then, there have been so many things that I've read and loved, or that have inspired me. Some of them, I remember more than others.

-Part Of The List,
by... IheartBryanBreeding or something? I'm pretty sure her name was Emily. She wrote in a very special way. Even when the story fell down, she engaged you.

-Something about Anaconda and buns
Kasey wrote that one. God, can't even remember what her screen name was, now. But the story was SO. FUNNY.

-What I Want
By best friend Lola wrote that one. God, she is hilarious. I loved that story because I could hear her voice in it. Also - sorry Lo - it was kinda predictable, which made it fun to guess in advance.

-Divine Drugs
by intenseSOUL, who was actually Hassana (I'm pretty sure. Could've been her twin Rashana, but pretty sure it was the former.) This story was so full of potential that I read it over several times. RANDOM FACT, but that was what inspired my Kiss Kiss Bandits in the very first place, but you would never guess because it did a lot of evolving. Then after, her 'Bossits' story reminded my of KKB, which was quite ironic.

by wtfitsRissababe aka RISSA!!! Oh, what a shitload of fun. This one was the BUSINESS. So much drama, I could barely take it. Aye, Karissa was good, and she knew it.

Man, what else was there? I can barely remember.

EDIT: I REMEMBERED ONE!! (Well no, I went on the KKB forum)
-Living With The Enemy,
by Carmela!!!! Can't remember her screen name but who cares? It's CARMELAAA! To be honest, I think I preferred Deadly Kisses and that awesome one about Zion. But LWTE had so many memories attached to it. Aw man. Nostalgia.

-by brygirl or something - aka Chante. She had one that was really good but I can't remember it's name. I can only remember 'Masquerade', which was another one she did that wasn't AS good. Damn.
EDIT: I went on the KKB Forum - it was called BEAUTIFUL MONSTER!!! Hehehehehehahahee

-Love At First Sight
my Forum homie Kamaria (b5grl01 or something?) had this one that was like a modern day Midsummer's night's dream, without the supernatural faeries and that. It was really cool and I distinctly remember Carmela and I threatening her to finishing it (something about a N!gga Be Cool stick...?)

And then of course...

Writers and their stories

First, I just  HAVE to say,

- ChilosaSwagg aka Shaire !
Probably shouldn't be saying this, but all of her stories were my favourites, so I guess that single-handedly makes her my favourite writer on the Forum. It's a little depressing how good she is. Anyway. She wrote;
- The Dirty
- List Of 31
- Without An Eraser (WAE)
- Lottery
- And another which she never finished =( All my favourites.

Man, I wish I could remember all of the rest...
Ah I do remember one of them!

She also had a really edgy way of writing that was very very awesome. She wrote;
-Blend In

And they were just as inspiring as Shaire's. There were many more who I'm not doing justice. There were some talented peeps on there. By the time the forum shut down, it wasn't even about B5 any more (no offence B5, lol).

People who will forever stick with me

Mainly for showing faith in me when I had none and just being crazy and cheery and brightening my day. I use most of their names in my fiction so that I never forget them. -ahem- Shoutouts:

Kamaria, Nicole, Carmela, Chante, Shaire, Camara, Adrienne, Tally, Marie, Crystal, Miya, Chawntae, Tie,  Jasmine, Hassana, Rashana, Karissa, Lani, Rosie, Brianna, Portia, Stephany, Aaliyah, Alei Charisma, Nina Marie, Jahmoni Nicole, Yari, Kasey, Erica, Nay, Shakira, Janice, Nikki, Tiara (Tiarapahpiin) - and I don't care what ANYBODY SAYS - Kandi, whoever she really is. Thank you for the memories, guys.

If I've forgotten you, leave an anonymous comment underneath and shout yourself out!! Hey, that would be as exciting as hell.


Okay, reminiscing done. About an hour until 12/12/12 ceases to exist. Better use it to catch up on overdue University essays. Or some SLEEP. Ciao.

Peace, Love.

Star xx

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

Meditative Reflective Depression

Did I become so deeply depressed upon realisation that I cannot be saved? I am only a little person, a human being, an insignificant among thousands of disgraceful, disgusting and evil others. I am pathetic; I cannot help become uselessly upset when the slightest harsh word is said to me. I cry over my own uselessness and lack the courage to die, where I might be happy.

I am so pitifully naive that I have probably unconsciously turned a blind eye to every time somebody has teased me, been racist towards me, spoke lies to my face that I simply accepted as truth, because it is so hard for me to imagine that people can be so cruel. But when it is staring me in the face, I unravel. I cut, and bleed.

I look at the picture above to transport me.

It would be so nice, just for a moment, to escape there, and not worry about money, my constant studying for bullshit educational purposes, friends, family, my purpose in life, my mortality, and my shortcomings as a human being. It would be so nice.

Star xx

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Sylvia Plath - Sheep In Fog

The hills step off into whiteness
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them

The train leaves a line of breath
O slow
Horse the colour of rust

Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening.

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

By my favourite poet, the talented Sylvia Plath.

University is clearly not for me. I will endure, because I will be in a better position when I come out than I was when I went in. But all of that is presuming I will still be alive and breathing when I come out.

I'm trying to write again. A friend, Carmela, inspired me to do it. We'll see how it goes. I may even post something on this blog... for once.

Star xx

Friday, 19 October 2012

I Keep All Of Your Kisses

i keep all of your kisses
on the back of my tongue.
to taste you slightly,
when hunger strikes;
you say,
let's sleep naked tonight -
just to see what happens.
-- cont. by Sarah, from the blog Bears For Hugs (

... I have no idea why, (seeing as I cannot relate to this poem at all,) but this really moved me. It's as if it's trying to jog up a memory I do not have. It's quite likely that it's reminding me of something I wrote, once...

... I wish I could remember what it was.


Star xx

Sunday, 30 September 2012


At the beginning of September, my mother got really cross with me about something and called me a 'Little Shit'. I had a really hard time getting over it. She doesn't normally talk like that and she's never called me anything like that before. I think my 'clinical depression' had stretched her thin and I was certain she hated me. I hoped she was mad enough to gather up the courage to kill me, because I'm too scared of pain to do it myself.

AT the time, I decided to wholeheartedly bury myself into the task of looking for laptop to get my mind of things, everything, if possible. My research has led me to conclude that:
  • I REFUSE to buy anything Samsung (our netbook is Samsung and although the loyal thing has served me well, I loathe it. The speed of the processor is as slow as death)
  • I will ONLY buy HP or Toshiba (wishing on a star for a pink Toshiba to fall into my lap)
  • My sister (we shall call her Azure) advised on an Intel Pentium processor (had NO idea what that was until recently and that alone makes me feel all smart and technical) which has narrowed my search down to mainly HP laptops
  • Between £200 and £500-ish pounds, the model that looked best was a HP G6, hey hey hey.

Over the last few days, I have learnt more about laptops than ever in my life. So here is the next issue - any laptop I get MUST be able to play The Sims 2 and ALL expansions, or I'm not interested.
  • graphics card for most HP G6 laptops with Intel Pentium processor are Intel HD graphics card
  • was told on the HP helpline that this should play Sims, but internet research had told me otherwise
  • apparently Intel are not know for their graphics because most of their products use an Integrated Graphics card

So. Integrated Graphics is when the graphics card is not seperate by itself, but instead built directly into the motherboard. And what the fuck does that mean? Well, it means that it has a small amount of RAM available and so takes some of the main system's RAM, which means the main system has less. Which is a bad thing, because it means the system's performance (possiby the video or graphics card as well) will be lower, and that's bad if you have a burning desire to play The Sims 2.

Additionally, The Sims 2 was intended to be played on a PC, not a laptop.

My next question was, WHAT IS RAM? The best answer I got was; RAM is like a blackboard. When your system wants to open a program or application, it opens it up on the blackboard of your computer and wipes it clean after. So if your RAM is really big, it's like a really big blackboard that you can open loads of files on, and you can do more things at once. Which is great.

So I had a browse on Very dot co dot uk, and found a laptop...
  • HP (G6 model)
  • Intel Pentium
  • Between £200 and £500 (it cost about £300-and-something, it was on sale.)
  • Purple
  • 4GB RAM
  • 750 memory

It all looked very promising, but something small was niggling at me... this laptop did not have a number pad. It's not really a very huge deal, but after using the Samsung netbook without a number pad, I can tell you that I DO NOT LIKE IT. Also because I use asterisks as my signature sometimes (being Star, durh) and it gets tiresome to keep pressing 'shift' before '8'.

But the other alternative didn't look much better; it had a number pad, but was a darker shade of purple, and the mouse pad was slightly on the left-hand side. That irked me just as much.

Then, I had a revelation. WHy was I limiting myself to Intel Pentium? I knew why I wanted HP (it's a good make), a certain price (I have a budget), and a certain colour (I am peculiar), but I had only narrowed down the search to that specific result because the advice to get Intel Pentium had been given to me by...

AZURE! That little rat. I phoned her up and she explained that Intel Pentium had loyally served our family for generations (two). But whilst doing my research, Intel Core was voted to be the most favourited processor. Then I went on the Intel site and they gave me a very handy guide. I think it went something like this
  • Intel Core i7 *****
  • Intel Core i5 ****
  • Intel Core i3 ***
  • Intel Pentium **
  • Intel Celeron *

As for the processor in my netbook, Intel Atom, it didn't even make the list. I wonder why! What a joke.

I decided that i3 was the one I wanted - why not? I didn't need anything hardcore, I wasn't video editing or using Photoshop, I just wanted to check my emails, type my stories and play The Sims 2. Despite reading online that it might not be the one to choose if I was going to play games, The Sims 2 isn't THAT demanding, and Intel graphics are are said to have vastly improved in the last few years. An i3 laptop (I've decided to go for a nice red) costs a whopping £499 pounds, only £1 within my budget (damn).
  • HP (G6 model)
  • Red
  • £499
  • 1TB memory
  • 6GB RAM
  • 15.6 inch

Upgrading to i5 is £50 more, which is tempting, but seeing as I have already spent £70 on books for university, and I haven't even bought all the books yet, I have decided it is a luxury I can REALLY do without. And I also think I'll wait until my laptop is on sale.

That's my findings so far. I feel quite proud that I found that all out by myself, when previously I had no idea what I wanted and began my search by putting 'good laptop' into Google (bad idea).

This is just one thing I found to distract myself, I will need to find a few more... saying that, I reread a favourite manga of mine, Immortal Rain, but I think that topic is for another post. Wait until I tell you how much I just spent on a set of manga books... =s



Tuesday, 25 September 2012

The Sad Truth

I can't sleep. I feel so upset that I just want to close my eyes and rest so that tomorrow will be here, but I can't sleep. The more I am aware, the more I'm just lying here, thinking about what it upsetting me - and the more I can't sleep. It's a vicious cycle that has robbed me of good sleep for the last few days, now.

I feel wrong. I feel like I'm not wired properly or something, like there's a part I'm missing that most people have, simple things like being able to go out, and have fun and not worrying about what other people think, and simply living life day by day without constantly thinking about killing yourself. Thinking back, I'm not even really sure I have ever been 'right', even when I was younger. I didn't think about it then, I was happier and carefree. But I have always been different. The fear that I will always be an outsider is a big part of why suicide haunts me.

What's so stupid is that I know I will never do it; commit suicide. I am scared of disappointing my Mum and I'm also scared that it will be painful. But what worries me is killing myself by impulse, or by mistake.

I am cutting myself again, even though I promised my therapist I wouldn't. My promises don't mean much now anyway - there was a time when a promise made by me was law. I am disappointed in myself for being weak, and distressed that by being weak I am disappointing people who are trying to help me, like my Mum. I don't think she knows what to do, any more. Maybe she doesn't care. She loves me, but I am never happy nowadays and I guess I don't really know how a Mum of six is supposed to deal with one clinically depressed daughter either.

Because I have been self-harming and I have been so upset, tension makes my body ache, and my cuts hurt whenever I sit, lie down, stretch, so on. I'm glad to feel them, because it distracts me from destructive thoughts, and in that brief moment my mind is blissfully blank.

I don't know how to stop myself thinking. I have asked countless people for help; my friends, my family, and mental health specialists. I feel like they have abandoned me, even when they are around, because they don't know how to deal with me.

The sad truth is that I don't know how to deal with myself.

I desperately need to find a constructive way to distract myself from my thoughts of unhappy or embarrassing situations; thoughts of whether or not I have made the right course change; thoughts of how much I hate myself and everything that I am, my face and my name; thoughts of suicide and sudden panic-attacks - without cutting. As long as I live, I must find the answer. If I don't, then that is of no consequence, because I will obviously be dead.


Monday, 3 September 2012

Katy Perry

I have no care for this woman, but she has a habit of featuring in pictures that are aesthetically-pleasing.


Friday, 24 August 2012

Monday, 20 August 2012

Neef Fresh (Fashion)

Neef again. I do adore her.

Star xx

EDIT: I have recently become aware that some of the pictures have disappeared.... *shrug* Oh well. Not my problem.



Sunday, 12 August 2012

Gunslinger Girl Anime Verdict (Review)

Some stuff has happened... yeah, can't say any more than that. All that needs to be said is that thankfully, I'm getting cognitive-behavioural therapy for my depression, and I'm not cutting myself any more. Really. I mean it this time. Anyway, the music of Gunslinger Girl season one always cheers me up...

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven't seen GSG, you shouldn't be here. You should be on Netflix watching it or borrowing the manga from your library.


A few weeks ago, I watched the anime from start to finish over two weeks, when I was feeling quite shit and a bit concerned that I am a little bit in love with death. One thing that really got me was how well the politics was laid out in season 1; in my stories involving the government, I have a tendency to 'haze through' quite a lot of political stuff but Gunslinger Girl had urged me to sharpen up my act. The story for season 1 was so gripping, and the back and forth of narrative in the first couple of episodes was excellent, it made perfect sense the way things pan out and fall into place. It adds intrigue to the whole Adolescent Girl Cyborg Assassin-type thing.


Triela (voiced by Caitlyn Glass, who also voices Kazuho in Nabari - !!!) is my favourite character. Her image is perfect, she looks so smooth in her sharp suits, and admittedly she has given me a slight thing about pigtails now. She has so many dimensions to her and is an incredibly complex character in how she's kinda dominant around the other cyborgs but softer around Hilshire (I prefer to call him Victor, heh). Her backstory was as tragic as HELL. It was so sweet and equally heart-wrenching that she thought Rachelle was her mother. Man, that was rough. How STUPID were Hilshire and Rachelle to go rushing into unknown territory like nobody's business! Jeez!


My second-favourite would be Claes, whose matter-of-fact tone, constant calmness and intellect I adore. I LOVED her little bit of action in the season one episode where she acts as a decoy for a political figurehead's daughter, and gets in her moment of Kick Ass. Plus, her connection to the song Scarborough Fair wasss... pretty much perfect.
L-R: Triela, Henrietta, Rico

Next would be Henrietta, whose devotion to Jose and simpleness is effortlessly sweet. Her image (the school uniform) suited her so well, but I couldn't help but felt that falls down when she's standing beside Jose and he's saying he's a reporter. Then why the hack have you got a schoolgirl with you?! (Obviously we know why, but if I was the enemy I wouldn't let him through my door either. It's weird). I couldn't help but read what happens to the Henrietta-Jose fratello in the manga on Wikipedia, and I couldn't BELIEVE how it ends for them. I wanted to sit on my arse and wail. How effortlessly depressing. And it was scary that in the manga, Jose loses his affection for Henrietta and has her 'reset' without regret or remorse, despite that the conditioning was messing her up inside. Man oh man.

Second-least favourite is Rico, who seemed a bit mindless, and although that is explained in the story, is does make her character a bit boring. BUT, I do love how she's portrayed as loving every minute in her new body - they only talk about it in her episode, but through the entire series you can see it, she's always balancing on things, skipping, swinging her legs, waving her arms, and the like. Very clever. (I found it kinda shit how her handler - damn what was his name again? I always forget! - uses her for his revenge. She doesn't mind, but that only makes it creepier. OH YEAH, his name was Jean. Jean Jean Jean. I'll remember.)

I liked Angelica least, because despite her deterioration, with the memory loss and all that (it's depressingly sad), she's just really annoying. Marco's quite harsh to her and she's always eager to please. It's a strange relationship.


I found it unique that it was set in Italy, that all the charaters had well-chosen italian names and the soundtrack was perfectly suited for the setting. Sometimes it's weird and a little bit funny when one character asks another 'Don't you speak Italian?' in English, and I remember that realistically, leaving out that its a dubbed anime, they would be.

In tGunslinger Girl's first season soundtrack, my favourites were all of the TEMA's; I, II, III, IV, V, and VI, Chiesa, Pauro, Ansia (reminded me of Elsa), Ti Amo (made me think of Henrietta and Jose), Malinconomia, and Costruzione. So many. It was a beautifully authentic sountrack (bravo, Toshihiko Sahashi) although I must say above all, my favourite was the opening theme, The Light Before We Land by The Delgados.

As for Il Teatrino, WELL.

It deifinately had it's ups and downs, In terms of plot, five stars. The addition of Pinocchio was perfect timing, his charater was even more complex than Triela, which somehow also made them a perfect match despite that they were rivals. And the back story behind Flanca and Franco was GREAT. Weaving that all into the hype about that bridge, it was pretty amazing.

But the animation in Il Teatrino was HORRIBLE... Herietta lost her adorable, timid sweetness and became an overflowing mound of giggles and hugeee brown eyes. Likewise, Jose lost his graceful, respectable look and became a joke, Hilshire was worse than a joke, he was COMEDY - and Triela lost that mature, kind of inner-complexity look with her blue eyes being so damn big. As for Angelica, Marco, and Raballo in Claes' flashback, my God. Unbelievable how characters can be shattered.

However, some characters really, and I mean really benefited from the animation change. It suited Rico perfectly. Franco and Flanco were given such life - in season one they looked a bit dead. So yeah, it had its pros and cons.

But otherwise, Il Teatrino was great. The soundtrack wasn't as good as season one as the tracks weren't very Italian in an authentic sense, but they gave a great sense of atmosphere - Main Theme, Jiken, Sentou, Rome Shigai, Restaurant, Kanashimi, even the new opening theme Tatta Hitotsu no Omoi, which I hated when I started watching season two, but loved by the end, since they changed that terrible opening animation. A particular favourite of mine is Scarborough Fair, which was my favourite song from the Il Teatrino, only succeeded by the closing theme Doll (sung by both Lia and Tada Aoi). Even though I loved the version of Scarborough Fair used in the episode and the version Claes played on piano, Tada Aoi really did it justice too as her accent gave the words a unique sound.

Well, its all on my iPod so no complains from me :)

So, next port of call - I'll need to get the manga omnibus as soon as possible, because I have no idea who Petrushka is and I would quite like to find out. I almost hyperventilated when I saw that a Playstation 2 game had been developed for it as well - and hyperventilated again when I saw the price. Imported, you say? GET OUTTA HERE. I could fly to Japan, buy the game and come back and I STILL would've spent less than what Amazon and eBay are suggesting. Please.

Star .


Wednesday, 8 August 2012

Sylvia Plath - Tulips

By my favourite poet.

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free -
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.


Tuesday, 7 August 2012

The Unlikely Suicide

Something I wrote.

Star. x

The Unlikely Suicide

Part One: Death As Your Companion

What would make a person do it?

...commit suicide?

My aunt used to say there is nothing in life that is bad enough to make a person want to take their life. After a her son died, she altered her philosophy slightly, instead saying that there is nothing in life that would give a person the right to take their own life, even if they want to take it, even if they have nothing left to live for. My aunt was Christian. Was. She’s dead now.

What would make a person choose to die?

My mind is deteriorating. It’s not hard to tell; I feel myself getting weaker every day, powerless to stop it. I sleep for four hours, I am tired. I sleep for eight hours, I am tired. I sleep for fourteen hours, I am tired. I drink coffee, I go running, I trail the city late at night, and I am tired. Nothing thrills me, nothing snaps me out of a daze and reminds me why I’m still here, there is no adrenaline burst, no buzz, no break, no epiphany, only this continued, aching tiredness and a simple disinterest, or would that be uninterest?

I should be angry that I can’t even summon the energy to live life to the fullest, being young and perfectly healthy, but I can’t even feel that, so I bought a will and last testament last Tuesday. I don’t know what for, even if I had somebody to leave something for, I don’t have anything to give them.


When my sister was almost dead, she said strange things, things that seriously scared me and paralysed my shoulders and fingers, but at least she never told me she was ‘tired’, which in itself would have been more symbolic than me saying it. My sister was vibrant and full of energy that she transferred to me on a daily basis. I curled up at home with books, but whenever she was around, she filled me with daring.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m being called...” she said suddenly, on the last train home after a night out. I had my eye of the drunk at the other end of the carriage and hadn’t really been listening, instead wondering if I should’ve kept my personal alarm in my pocket instead of my handbag as he stumbled towards us. “... called to... the other side.” The words only half-registered. Once the drunk passed us, swaying and stumbling his way to the other end of the carriage for no apparent reason, I relaxed and tried to catch up with the conversation.

“To the... the what? Sorry, say that again.”

She had a vacant look, her body swayed with the rattle of the train. Her bare shoulders hunched upwards slightly, tense. “They want me there.”


“Aunty. Nana. They want me with them.”

I stared at her. As disturbing as it was, I didn’t want to think that she was ‘going’. Leaving the realm of the living. Bloody hell, she’s my bloody sister – I don’t want to face up to the fact that any day now she might burst an artery. And yet, she never seemed concerned. If she was scared about dying, I wish she’d done something appropriate like cry, so I’d at least have known she was being sombre and not having a moment of delirium. Instead, she only gave a sad little smile, but after a short sigh, a sparkle was back in her eyes and we didn’t speak about it again. A light coughed tickled her. Suddenly a violence took hold, and instantly her hand was at her mouth, a Kleenex tissue acting as a barrier. I noted how good she was getting at getting a tissue out quickly, but when I saw splotches of blood as she put it away, I couldn’t see anything good about anything.

Considering that she rarely gets sick, it didn’t actually seem like much when it first started happening. The coughing, fainting, bleeding. It happened sporadically so no one thought it was a big deal. But I knew. You’d just be able to tell, wouldn’t you? That your time was near...

Actually, no. Our whole family was oblivious for a long time. By the time warning lights switched on, my sister’s life-light was beginning to flicker off. Almost every day since, her coughing, bleeding and fainting was a regular occurrence.

With a start of fear, I realised that a stranger was sitting opposite us in the carriage, silent and foreboding, but he looked as if he was behind a sheet of fog. It didn’t make sense to explain it in any way, but if I had to, I’d say that he looked a little... blurred at the edges, like some ghost, like he wasn’t really there. I assumed the person was male because of their build, but thinking twice, I guess I never really knew. I inspected him out of the corner of my eye in the bored way you do when you’re on the train with nothing else to focus on but curious little people that you’ll never meet again. It was only after about twenty minutes that I remembered that the whole reason we’d gotten onto this carriage was because it was empty. Only one person had gotten on after us – and that was the drunk.

So who was this?

Suddenly I was on edge. Casually, I leaned over to my sister. “You know the guy in the long black –” What was he wearing? I just couldn’t tell. The more I looked, the fuzzier his image became. “- coat,” I made up, “- when did he get on?”

She sat in silence for a long time, before she looked at me. Her eyebrows were knotted in that way that could be scathing, condescending, expectant or confused, depending on the shape her mouth made to compliment her eyebrows. This time, her lips pursed, giving me a weird but ultimately confused look.


I frowned, wondering if I was going to have to explain something very simple to a very dumb girl.

“You mean the drunk?”

I tutted at her irritatedly. “The drunk isn’t even wearing a coat.”

“Exactly.” She said, with the small incredulous laugh she makes when somebody has proved her point. “So what are you talking about?”

I looked back to the figure, and almost choked. I looked back to my sister Olivia, now wearing a concerned look. Then I looked across the carriageway again, but the person who sat there was the same person who sat beside me. I was looking at two versions of my sister.

There have been countless depictions of Death over the ages. Personally, I quite like the one of Lucifer, the angel too bright and yet too cunning for Heaven. I never cared much for the big mound in the willowy cloak and a scythe in a hand of bones, but I don’t think my own depiction was much different from that. I suppose, being finite human beings, we can only work with what we know. Saying that, where my subconscious decided to come up with a shimmering black figure, I don’t know. And why Death has such an attitude, I will never understand.

I was doing my normal washing-up routine, going through the motions without actually caring whether or not the cutlery was clean. The sponge rubbed over utensils made in China, hand-painted crockery, and gadgets that make cooking easy.

As I slid the sponge over my favourite cooking knife, a black-gloved hand covered mine, the feel of leather sticking to my hand via friction, and the tip of the knife moved instantly to my neck, the tip gently resting against where my adam’s apple would have been, had I been born male.

“It intrigues you, doesn’t it?”

The voice was soothing enough to fall asleep to, too low to be female, too melodic to be male, too gentle, too quiet, too piercing to be human. It filled my head. Despite all of its beautiful qualities, it sounded like noise – like the faint crackle you hear from a radio, an untuned TV, or an ancient record player where its needle is about to translate plastic into music. It was that ongoing static, an awful drone that made me grit my teeth. A migraine threatened to fall.

“You’re curious. That’s natural.” The hand gently pressed my own, making the tip of the knife do a little less resting and a little more poking. “Remember when... you first learnt to swim? Surrounded by all that water? Remember... how happy you were at not only learning a new skill... but feeling like you’d entered a new world?”

It was the only childhood memory I’d had of my whole family being together on an outing, including both sets of grandparents before they passed. I’d never forget.

“How comforting would it be to let yourself be consumed by that liquid again... blood running down your neck and soaking your clothes... covering yourself in it... learning the skill of release... entering the world of sleep. You look tired, Saellie. Would you like to go there?”

“Yes...” I sighed, my eyes drooping. The gloved hand moved the knife to the left side of my neck, just under my chin, and lightly traced a line from ear to ear with the tip. “I am very, very tired...”

“I know.” Death said gently. “You should sleep. You’ll feel better.”

“But... I don’t want to die.” I said, and suddenly it was like I was fighting for breath. The hand didn’t tighten its grip, neither did it release its hold. It seemed like an age before my fingers uncurled; the soapy cooking knife dropped into the sink with a loud clang and clatter. A tiny bead of blood had appeared on my neck.

“Oh...” I leaned over the drain, feeling as if the last bit of my sanity had escaped down that dark hole. “What is happening to me?”

“Don’t be alarmed. That is what life is all about... discovering how effortless, how pointless it is. Meaningless. Futile. Aren’t you tired?” the voice prompted again.

I turned to look at the figure. It seemed to be male, but I couldn’t be sure. This time, it really was wearing a long black coat, with black leather gloves and boots, a smart grey fedora hat, and a startlingly white mask, with a small red tear of blood painted underneath one eye. No mouthhole, no nosehole, and eyeholes were black pits. It seemed to fade at the edges, like before. The less I concentrated on it, the clearer it became. The more I tried to focus, the more of a phantom it became.

“You’re Death. Right?” I said, touching the back of my hand where I’d felt it’s leather glove. Unbelievable how real it had seemed. Just another indication that I’d finally lost my mind.

“If you say so, Saellie.”

“Sorry, I didn’t ask that correctly. Are you Death? That’s a direct question,” I added, sensing another nonchalant answer.

“I am if you say so, Saellie.”

I couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at its remarkable attitude. “So... you want me dead, is that right? You want me to die? Yes? No?”



“I only want you to realise what you want. What you really want.” Death tiled its head forward, its mask narrowing horizontally. “You want to kill yourself. That is what you want.”

“So... you do want me to die.

“No. You are not listening. There is a difference between dying and killing yourself. Killing yourself guarantees that you will die, but dying does not necessarily mean that you have killed yourself.”

Oh fuck. I've conjured up a fucking psychopath.

“You conjured me up. You are the psychopath.” Death pointed out.

I was shocked into silence by the truth of it. I don't know what came over me, but words spurted from my mouth like blood from a wound. “I don’t want to kill myself,” I whimpered, glancing back at the knife in the sink. Soap spuds slid of it and dispersed at an achingly slow pace.

“That is what everyone expects you to say.” Death nodded once. “And you are scared of pain, like everybody else. But I am here to help you.”

“You’re here to help me... kill myself, then.”

“No,” Death whispered, although saying that is odd because its voice always seemed to be a whisper. But in saying this particular phrase, its voice took on a chilling quiet I hadn’t heard before. “You are still not listening. I want you to realise what you want. And you want to sleep...

This was worse than I’d thought. 
There is nothing worse than having a mind that creates someone who talks in circles. I’ll have to get my doctor to up my dose of anti-depressants. 

“That’s a good idea,” Death said, its masked face jerking up as if suddenly animated. “They will help you. Whenever you feel bad, take one. If you still feel bad, take another. Two hours later, take another, just to be sure. It’s just like taking painkillers. After a few hours, you’ll be fast asleep. You won’t feel a thing. They really work, those anti-depressants. Don’t they?”

“I won’t overdose,” I told Death coldly, wondering how my mind could have thought up such a morbid creature. I must have, because no-one else can see him. Him, it, I’m not even sure if it matters. “Although I’ll consider it, if it means I won’t have to listen to you.”

There was a silence in which Death was still. I wondered what its face was like behind that mask, if it had one, and if it was smiling. “That was all I wanted...” it said.


Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Gunslinger Doll

My favourite girl, Triela :) (Claes is also awesome.)

There's one thing I still don't understand, and that is how I can continue going about my day to day business, pretending to be happy, pretending to be sane, forcing myself to get up every day, when I'll be dead in about forty years and nothing I did will matter to anyone.

Unbelievable how people can live for a couple decades and die quietly, completely insignificant the whole way through. How rare is it for someone to be so important or have made such a contribution to thousands of people's lives that they are immortal through time? I just don't get it. I don't see the point. But I guess that's why I'm going to counselling, and you're not.

I'm still an avid watcher of Gunslinger Girl on Netflix, and I must say, the story idea, the plot, the characters, the setting (beautiful, beautiful Italy) not to mention of course the amazing soundtrack (my favourite song is TEMA I, I think) is incredible.

I was completely unimpressed that the animation changed in the second season, Il Teatrino, doubly unimpressed that The Light Before We Land was no longer the opening theme, but Gunslinger Girl is just too good to stop watching. Ironically, I was given a compelling end credits theme instead in season two, called Doll.

It is a very beautiful song and also, somehow, very sad, maybe because I could relate to the lyrics... they made me feel so raw (being in my current situation) that as much as I love the song, it upsets me to hear it.

Itsuka kiite hoshii kono omoi mo
Kotoba ni wa naranai kedo
Chikara no kagiri o furishibotte
Ikite iku koto o shiru kara

Chorus Translation
I want you to ask about how I feel someday
I don’t express it in words
But I muster the extent of my strength
Because I know I’m going to live

Thinking about what's happening to me now (without going into the morbid details) and thinking about those words, they make me feel relieved and sorrowful at the same time (it's a weird feeling); relieved, because 'I know I'm going to live', bitter and sad, because what's the point in living if I have to suffer?

(Above) I found a version by Aoi Tada, and her voice is very sweet and simple, like it could have been Gunslinger Girl Henrietta herself singing.

Then I found Lia's version, the one they used in the end credits, whose voice is noticeably stronger and more unique. I think I'm leaning more towards hers (below).

I wish someone could help me.


Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Gunslinger Girl latest drug. (Triela is my favourite. (Though Rico has the best name.))

^ Best theme tune ever.


Monday, 9 July 2012

Lady Of Sorrow

I Seem To Be The Lady Of Sorrow.

Dark Star x

Sunday, 8 July 2012

Fifty Shades Of Lame

I will not be reading Fifty Shades Of Grey.

This is not because I am embarrassed at reading erotica (I'm sorry but George R.R. Martin took it there. I thought I was just getting a fantasy book... anyway, nothing moves you after him and Jackie Collins) and it's not because I think I'm too good for the books... it just doesn't interest me. Take away the erotica and all that's left is a romance. I'm not interested in romances unless there's something else to the plot, something substantial, hence why I don't mind supernatural romances. Even Twilight - yes, it was written badly, but the vampires gave it an edge so different to normal romances, and look where that ended up. Hey hey hey.

But when you're me, a young writer living in West London who used to write fanfiction and struggles with putting science fiction or fantasy books together, and then you find out that E.L. James has a bestselling trilogy with the film rights already snapped up and SHE also used to write fanfiction, and SHE lives in West London and she based her book off of TWILIGHT (?! Unbelievable shit!) Well. It was time to have a sit down and find out what the hell was going on.


Fifty Shades tops 1m Kindle sales

Racy publishing phenomenon EL James has seen her debut book Fifty Shades Of Grey become the first to sell more than one million copies for Kindles.
Online retailer said she has already become its best-selling author of the year and the book is the biggest Kindle ebook yet.
James - whose real name is Erika Leonard - has had colossal sales for her erotic fiction books, with the paperback version of her debut achieving the UK's highest weekly sale for a paperback.
Amazon said the Kindle edition of Fifty Shades was outselling the print book at a rate of more than two to one.
Her trilogy of saucy Grey books was published in March. The film rights have already been snapped up.
Gordon Willoughby, director of EU Kindle, said: "EL James's books have become both the fastest-selling and the best-selling series ever on Kindle - that's an exceptional achievement for a debut novelist and we're excited to see her pass the one million sales milestone."
The print versions of her books - the others are titled Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed - take the top three places in Amazon's bestseller lists.

According to Wannabe A Writer by Jane Wenham-Jones, it's okay to have Writer's Jealousy. Honestly, Fifty Shades Of Grey is not a book I would want to be famous for writing - it's not my style - but it's also the fastest selling fiction book of all time, surpassing even Harry Potter (- !!) so E.L. James must be doing something right.

Working in a bookshop, it's hard not to notice that I'm selling one of the Fifty Shades trilogy books every five or so transactions. It's literally flying off the shelves. At the start of the day, the shelf is full, at the end, there's barely a few copies left. And yet, the highest reviews on Amazon only gave it one or two stars, claiming it to be badly written. I can't help but share the ones that most amused me.


10,274 of 10,659 people found the following review helpful
 Did a teenager write this??? April 15, 2012
By meymoon
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase
I really don't like writing bad reviews. I admire people who have the courage to put pen to paper and expose themselves to the whole world, especially those writing erotica. Having just finished this book, however, I feel compelled to write a review.

About half way through the book, I looked up the author to see if she was a teenager. I really did because the characters are out of a 16 year old's fantasy. The main male character is a billionaire (not a millionaire but a billionaire) who speaks fluent French, is basically a concert level pianist, is a fully trained pilot, is athletic, drop dead gorgeous, tall, built perfectly with an enormous penis, and the best lover on the planet. In addition, he's not only self made but is using his money to combat world hunger. Oh yeah, and all of this at the ripe old age of 26! And on top of that, he's never working. Every second is spent having sex or texting and emailing the female character. His billions seem to have just come about by magic. It seriously feels like 2 teenage girls got together and decided to create their "dream man" and came up with Christian Grey.

Then come the sex scenes. The first one is tolerable but as she goes on, they become so unbelievable that it becomes more laughable than erotic. She orgasms at the drop of a hat. He says her name and she orgasms. He simply touches her and she orgasms. It seems that she's climaxing on every page.

Then there's the writing. If you take out the parts where the female character is blushing or chewing her lips, the book will be down to about 50 pages. Almost on every single page, there is a whole section devoted to her blushing, chewing her lips or wondering "Jeez" about something or another. Then there's the use of "shades of". He's "fifty shades of @#$%% up," "she turned 7 shades of crimson," "he's ten shades of x,y, and z." Seriously?

The writing is just not up to par, the characters are unbelievable, and the sex verges on the comical. I don't know what happens in the remaining books and I do not intend to read them to find out. But given the maturity level of the first book, I imagine that they get married, have 2 perfect children, cure world hunger, and live happily ever after while riding into the sunset, as the female character climaxes on her horse causing her to chew her bottom lip and blush fifty shades of crimson. Jeez!


8,678 of 9,034 people found the following review helpful
 Bestseller? Really??? March 25, 2012
Format:Kindle Edition
I enjoy erotica and heard so much about this book that I had to give it a shot, but I'm five chapters in and just can't take it anymore. This has to be the most appallingly atrocious writing I've ever seen in a major release. The pseudonymous British author sets the action (such as it is) in Washington State... for no reason than that her knowledge of America apparently consists of what she read in "Twilight"... but the entire first-person narrative is filled with Britishisms. How many American college students do you know who talk about "prams," "ringing" someone on the phone, or choosing a "smart rucksack" to take "on holiday"? And the author's geography sounds like she put together a jigsaw puzzle of the Pacific Northwest while drunk and ended up with several pieces in the wrong place.

And oh, the repetition...and the repetition...and the repetition. I'm convinced the author has a computer macro that she hits to insert one of her limited repertoire of facial expressions whenever she needs one. According to my Kindle search function, characters roll their eyes 41 times, Ana bites her lip 35 times, Christian's lips "quirk up" 16 times, Christian "cocks his head to one side" 17 times, characters "purse" their lips 15 times, and characters raise their eyebrows a whopping 50 times. Add to that 80 references to Ana's anthropomorphic "subconscious" (which also rolls its eyes and purses its lips, by the way), 58 references to Ana's "inner goddess," and 92 repetitions of Ana saying some form of "oh crap" (which, depending on the severity of the circumstances, can be intensified to "holy crap," "double crap," or the ultimate "triple crap"). And this is only part one of a trilogy...

If I wrote like that, I'd use a pseudonym too.

Like some other reviewers, what I find terribly depressing is that this is a runaway bestseller and the movie rights are expected to sell for up to $5 million. There are so many highly talented writers in the genre... and erotica is so much more erotic when the author has a command of the language and can make you care about the characters. For examples, check out the "Beauty" trilogy written by Anne Rice under the pen name A.N. Roquelaure, or any stories by Donna George Storey or Rachel Kramer Bussel. Just stay away from this triple crap.

*UPDATE*: Thanks to the many other perturbed readers who have shared their own choices of the most annoyingly overused phrases in this masterpiece. Following up on their suggestions with my ever-useful Kindle search function, I have discovered that Ana says "Jeez" 81 times and "oh my" 72 times. She "blushes" or "flushes" 125 times, including 13 that are "scarlet," 6 that are "crimson," and one that is "stars and stripes red." (I can't even imagine.) Ana "peeks up" at Christian 13 times, and there are 9 references to Christian's "hooded eyes," 7 to his "long index finger," and 25 to how "hot" he is (including four recurrences of the epic declarative sentence "He's so freaking hot."). Christian's "mouth presses into a hard line" 10 times. Characters "murmur" 199 times, "mutter" 49 times, and "whisper" 195 times (doesn't anyone just talk?), "clamber" on/in/out of things 21 times, and "smirk" 34 times. Christian and Ana also "gasp" 46 times and experience 18 "breath hitches," suggesting a need for prompt intervention by paramedics. Finally, in a remarkable bit of symmetry, our hero and heroine exchange 124 "grins" and 124 "frowns"... which, by the way, seems an awful lot of frowning for a woman who experiences "intense," "body-shattering," "delicious," "violent," "all-consuming," "turbulent," "agonizing" and "exhausting" orgasms on just about every page.


2,291 of 2,357 people found the following review helpful
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase
Oh My, I mean really, Oh my, oh my, oh my......No readers, I have not just been whipped (pardon the pun) into a bosom heaving wreck by the size of my partner's "impressive length". I have in fact, just dragged myself through to the final page of this ludicrous nonsense and found myself almost speechless. Almost...

The main character, Christian Grey, is quite obviously deranged. This does not however, deter Ana, who for some inexplicable reason, has spent so long with her head in a book that she has never looked in a mirror and noticed that she is a "total babe". A "total babe" who also happens to be a 21 year old virgin. No, Ana, in the space of 3 weeks, falls so crazily in love with "Mr Grey" that she manages to bypass the whole deranged thing and instead concentrates all her efforts on a) going from virgin to porn star faster than Hussain Bolt off the blocks and b) deciding whether to let him hit her with stuff. As you do.

As for Mr Grey, obviously, readers can't be allowed to see him as simply a deranged, manipulative psycho so let's give him smouldering good looks, a few zillion quid to throw around and hey, and this is the clincher, the ability to love art and music (y'know, like Nazi's do in the war films). (Note - the bit where he plays the "haunting" piano piece, semi naked, with his eyes closed actually made me laugh so much that I almost wet myself - in a non-orgasmic way. Check it out....enjoy! ). As if that wasn't enough he also has a personal and financial interest in saving the world from famine. Just that old world peace and cancer to sort out and then hey, job's a good `un. I mean really, how did the world ever shamble along without him? So what made this beautiful, charismatic and talented man so brutal? Could it be a traumatic childhood perhaps? Why, yes I think it could...yaaaaawn....

So, the 2 beautiful people come together (Oh my, another pun) and the rest of the book is basically about Ana wondering if she should let him hit her with stuff and then letting him hit her with stuff and Mr Grey wondering if he should stop hitting her with stuff but still hitting her with stuff while she whines on about wanting "more" love and less of the hitting stuff and he whines on about how he doesn't know how to give "more" cos he has only ever hit people with stuff.

In between these nonsensical blatherings they have lots of sex, which, like piano playing, speaking foreign languages and making zillions of quid, he possesses boundless expertise. Obviously. Luckily, virginal Ana also has her "inner Goddess" to guide her on the art of sex play and soon becomes an orgasm machine, chucking them out all over the place in a rampant, fevered haze of lust. So much so that she overlooks Mr Grey's general bastardry and bends over nicely for a few beatings. She is also too enraptured to take much notice his incessant stalking, which would have got lesser men arrested. Oh, and his `feeder' tendencies that, if successful, would have surely added a good 10 stone onto Ana's lovely buttocks which in turn would have incurred the cost of a refurb' to the `red room of pain' when his ceiling shackles needed reinforcing. Luckily he can afford it.

As many other readers have noted, the writing is appallingly poor and, if you removed the sex bits, would resemble a love struck teenager's diary. It's all been said before so I won't dwell on it. I will just say, if you are looking for erotic fiction, look elsewhere, if you are looking for an unintentionally laugh out loud bit of fluff and nonsense then crack open a bottle, put your feet up and prepare to be amused. Personally I would just say that there goes a day of my life that I will never get back. Oh my!



The Fifty Shades trilogy was developed from a Twilight fan fiction originally titled Master of the Universe and published episodically on fan-fiction websites under the pen name "Snowqueens Icedragon". The piece featured characters named after Stephenie Meyer's characters in TwilightEdward Cullen and Bella Swan. After comments concerning the sexual nature of the material, James removed the story from the fan-fiction websites and published it on her own website, Later she rewrote Master of the Universeas an original piece, with the principal characters renamed Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele and removed it from her website prior to publication.[8] Meyer commented on the series, saying "that's really not my genre, not my thing ... Good on her – she's doing well. That's great!"[9]
This reworked and extended version of Master of the Universe was split into three parts. The first, titled Fifty Shades of Grey, was released as an e-book and a print-on-demand paperback in May 2011 by The Writers' Coffee Shop, a virtual publisher based in Australia. The second volume, Fifty Shades Darker, was released in September 2011; and, the third, Fifty Shades Freed, followed in January 2012. The Writers' Coffee Shop had a restricted marketing budget and relied largely on book blogs for early publicity, but sales of the novel were boosted by word-of-mouth recommendation.

Film adaptations

It was reported that Mark Wahlberg's production company was in the middle of buying the film rights to the trilogy[36] until several studios, including Warner Bros.SonyParamount, and Universal Pictures entered bids for the film rights,[6][37] with reports stating that James was requesting to retain some control during the movie's creative process.[38] On March 26, 2012 it was announced the rights had been secured by Universal Pictures and Focus Features[39] Actors Ian Somerhalder and Ashley Benson have expressed interest in acting in the film.[40] In June 2012, it was reported that Angelina Jolie was interested in directing the film and was currently in talks to direct the adaptation.[41] American Psycho writer Bret Easton Ellis publicly expressed his desire to write the screenplay for the film stating, "I'm putting myself out there to write the movie adaptation of Fifty Shades of Grey..."[42]

Did I mention? I didn't give up my day job.
Good thing too. I'm putting this whole writing thing on the shelf.
Once, I thought it was worth the stress, but... that was before I

started cutting myself. I say that now, but I will probably write
something tomorrow.) Anyway, ce n'est grave pas. I'm tired now.
All this thinking makes my head hurt.

Star xx
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