Where I'm From

Where I’m From

I am from my friend’s house, from Sony and kicking people off my trampoline.

I am from the messy room with the debatable carpet.

I am from gathering chocolate eggs in the backyard and repetitive clumsiness, from Charles and from Imogen, I am from Duckworth, I am from Nicklin.

I am from meals ate on the couch, and fast-food in the car.

From, “Don’t spill that,” and “clean that up.”

I am from a family of atheists who get dragged to church by my grandparents.

I am from Burton-on-Trent and other random English cities, I am from anything fried to nothing else.

From the time I threw my brothers’ necklace into the Ocean, and the time I threw my dog at him. From the time I threw a block of ice at my sister’s face, and the time I threw my sister at a block of ice.

I am from the countless photo albums on the shelf and the pictures on the living room walls. I am from the footage of my first steps, and the hours of kicking people off my trampoline recorded on video.

Dearly Devoted Dexter Book Review

Book Review

Max Duckworth

Dearly Devoted Dexter by: Jeff Lindsay

Publisher: Vintage Books

Genre: Crime Fiction

Where I Got It: Amazon.com after reading the first Dexter book, (Darkly Dreaming Dexter).

One Sentence Summary: Dexter Morgan is not your regular blood-splatter-analyst; he is a serial killer, but he only kills bad people but a new killer is tearing through Miami with a series of gruesome murders and only Dexter can stop him.

First Sentence: It’s that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge-K car of Dexter’s hypothetical soul.

First Chapter Review: The first chapter of Dearly Devoted Dexter is great. After sinking your teeth into the first three paragraphs, you’re left on the edge of your seat or whatever it is you might be sitting on. It perfectly expresses the scenario in a way that is: humorous, suspenseful and informative at the same time. You are lead on to believe that Dexter is about to kill the first victim of the book when he is just playing Hide and Seek with his newly found step children.

It introduces you to the books general theme quite well; a serial killer bound by rules (taught to him by his late step-father) and family (his long-term girlfriend and step-children). It makes you want to read more and more and more and more.

Verdict: A FANTASIC read for fans of the show (on Showtime and CBS), those who enjoyed the first book and people that want to experience quite possibly the best book ever; it’s just as good as it’s show.

Cover comments: We see a chopping-knife laying in a bed of rose petals behind the words: Dearly Devoted Dexter written in blood-splatter. It’s elegance matches its content; as does the ‘New York Times Bestseller’ banner along the top, the comment, “Morbidly funny” taken from a review and a sticker at the bottom, informing you that this is indeed what the HIT Showtime series ‘Dexter’ is based on.

Wordly Wise: Quaker-Daker

Marshmallows, Black Ops and an Earthquake

Yes, I am so glad that I took the day off. Ha, while my colleagues were working away at the office; here I was, on the verge of ‘prestiging’ in Black Ops. My roommates mid-day snoring wasn’t even audible over the sound of freshly-baked bullets ripping apart any n00bs getting in my way. YES!! One more kill, ONE MORE KILL!!

Bleep, “NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” I screamed as the power went out. I was about to prestige; every moment was crucial. Now I’ve lost all of my data from that match—I had just deployed attack dogs as well.

But now that the TV was off- I could hear stuff from outside. What was that? Screaming?! I rushed to the window to see what was going on. The street was ripping open…RIPPING OPEN!! I was jolted backwards as I saw the gap widen. This was an earthquake!!

I remained calm; us people of Japan are adept when it came to earthquakes. I woke my roommate –Jeremy- up as we assumed our usual drill—grab the PS3, one game, one DVD and a copious amount of one specific type of marshmallows, then throw ourselves into the least capacious room of the apartment—the closet.

The ground was really shaking now; we had to hurry. “NO NO- Wait!!” Jeremy screamed as I grabbed the Black Ops case (our usual safe game). “If you’re going to save a game, make it Gran Turismo 5.”

“No Jeremy! In the event of an earthquake we select one game, one DVD, and one specific brand of marshmallows and the game we save –the only game we save- is Black Ops.”

“Oh- stop being so fastidious; I’m saving Gran Turismo 5! And guess what—our ‘safe DVD’ is my pre-order voucher for Black Swan!”

“A voucher!? Are you out of your mind?! I have calculated the optimum survival mass for earthquakes! The cases even everything out, I’m just trying to facilitate both of our lives…and you’re decelerating my breakthrough rate!”

“Breakthrough!?! The last ‘breakthrough’ of yours was buying coasters! And one more thing-“ CRASH!!!! Our building started violently shaking becoming ever more fitful. I was shaken off my feet and tried to grapple with the table to maintain my footing; I felt pang of pain as I fell to the ground.

“I’M GETTING GRAN TURISMO!!!” Jeremy screamed at me. Now the crashing sound was over-powering everything else. I could only think one thing—TO THE CLOSET!

I dove into the closet just like I had done so many times during my time spent in the world Black Ops. I pivoted to see Jeremy on the other side of the apartment; scrambling desperately for the Gran Turismo 5 manual.

“Get in, get in, get in!!” I screamed at him as he then fumbled for one of the controls. He dived into the closet as I did.

“Was that a Mason dive?” He asked, “Because it felt more like a Captain Woods dive.”

“Shut up.” I told him but before I could shut the door; I was forced to watch the back wall of our apartment grow massive cracks that preceded the floor’s collapse—taking the wall and our ENTIRE game collection with it: Black Ops, our controls and I’m pretty sure my Blu-ray Matrix trilogy box set with it.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!” I screamed; the apartment violently ripped open and we remained blinded by the solar glare- no natural light ever makes it into ‘the gamer’s lair’. After our eyes adjusted, we could see the ruins of Sendai; basking in the sun under the azure sky.

“RUN!!” Was all we could hear from the streets below. I ran over the the massive, gaping hole that used to be ‘the gamer’s lair’ to see a black wave forming at the horizon.

“Is that a—is that a-?”

“A tsunami? Yes. Grab the car keys…and TWO types of marshmallows.”

TO BE CONTINUED…IF YOU WANT; I’M INDIFFERNT TO BE HONEST SO YEAH. IF YOU WANT A SEQUEL THEN JUST COMMENT. WELL, THAT’S ABOUT IT.

TO BE CONTINUED…

My Booky Wook by: Russel Brand Review

Book Review

My Booky Wook by: Russell Brand

The first memoir I read this February was ‘My Booky Wook’. When I first heard we would be reading memoir in class I knew I had to get my hands on a copy of it. My mum had a friend that was in possession of it so while everybody else was reading ‘Eat, Pray, Love’, ‘The Diary of Anne Frank’ and other mind-numbing books like that; I was reading a comedic master piece.

The very name ‘My Booky Wook’ indicates a sense of humor that foreshadows your enjoyment of this memoir. If you don’t know what Russell Brand is capable of (humor-wise), then the title should tell you what you are in for.

Growing up in Essex, London, Russell Brand wasn’t living the good life. After being walked out on by his Dad (who he admired greatly and only saw rarely) he was left living with his mum and horrible step dad. You could argue that Russell Brand is…different. As you read ‘My Booky Wook’, you feel like you are living with Russel, descending into sex, drugs and alcohol addiction right next to him.

As he grows into adolescence, Russell falls in love with acting and the thrill that came with stepping up on the stage; knowing that this was his destiny. Upon arrival to his local drama school, he devoted almost all of his time to acting and stand-up comedy; whereas the fraction of time that wasn’t spent focused on acting was focused on drugs.

After drugs start consuming his life, Russell’s acts (stand-up comedy) become acts of self-destruction, including such actions and cutting himself on stage and smashing glass jars against his head. It took a couple of months before he (along with his friend) was expelled from Drama School. At this point he was knee deep in heroin and problems, one example being breaking into a hospital (while on heroin) trying to find and steal fetuses.

It took a while for studios to pick up on the humor being the destructive exterior of Russell. MTV chose him to be a host for their show. This resulted in a somewhat mediocre level of fame but something to quench his current need for fame and attention. But of course, he was fired after a short while due to his…habits.

It takes someone outstandingly hilarious to make things as despicable as trying to steal fetuses to something as sad as growing up with a borderline abusive stepdad both hilarious and touching. The book is organized in narrative form, stuffed with tales of his coming to age, to rise to fame, to funny tales that his self-abusive behavior bought upon him.

The whole book is just about a man who is coming to terms with his substance abuse and his dying need for love, but told in a way that makes you laugh and (nearly) cry, learning who he is and trying to figure out why everyone (from people in the street to celebrities) is trying to get away from him.

I am never usually a fan of memoir, or anything nonfiction in fact, but this was thoroughly enjoyable and one of the best books I’ve ever read. Whether it’s a combination of British humor (to which I am very familiar) or just seeing one of my heroes from TV in action; I LOVED IT. And so should you, that is if you can cope with the vulgar details and English (as in England English) words.

While reading this book, I viewed it as more of a comedy than a memoir so my favorite lines are ones with comedic value. My favorite one (which I ending up nearly rolling off my bed with laughter was after reading) was, “No Matthew, you’ll be sleeping on the brown.” Referring to a dreaded blanket that was living in his closet while his friend Matthew was spending the night at his house. Other funny lines included, “just one hour into filming and he’s already refusing to come off the top of the van”, this was referring to Russel (heavily intoxicated) climbing on top of their RV and not coming down. You can fall in love with almost every line- almost every word in this book, but I’ll let you chose your own favorites.

The bottom line is that you just read this book; it is perfect in every single way. I have the sequel and can’t wait to read it. Ten out of ten, BUY THIS NOW.