Quintessential Mutterings In The Sonosphere

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  • Boiling Point (AET)

    We in the UK have been in the midst of a heatwave; supposedly, this June was the warmest June on record, and every day I have been sweating in areas that have never sweated before. I’m not going to go into graphic detail, of course. You may be eating a sandwich or having some soup while reading this blog, but all I will say is that my body has been like an inflated paddling pool with a puncture. Now, in hot weather, people may venture to the pub to get themselves more dehydrated with beer and cider. I do like a beer, I like many a beer when the night is right, but it has felt too hot to drink, and when I try to have a drink, I end up having a couple of sips, I actually enjoy, and everything afterwards is just dismay and regret. Another thing people like to do in hot weather is go to watch a band play or go to a music festival, like what many a champagne socialist did last week at Glastonbury. Of course, it isn’t my intention to get overtly political on this blog, but if I were a musical artist, I would rather want a crowd to remember my performance for the music and not for a chant demanding the death of someone or a group. I understand Glastonbury is one of those festivals where artists have the freedom to express themselves, but express yourself with the music you play. Don’t turn it into a political rally for the left or the right, just play some good fucking music.

    So, rant over, back to the point of this blog. I decided not to go and watch any bands or live music, which left me with the third option I had to pass the time, which was to watch the football. I have been following the newly revamped FIFA Club World Cup, and in all honesty, I have enjoyed it. I was sceptical at first, with the mindset that most Europeans came into the tournament with that it was a pointless tournament that no one would take seriously, and it only exists for FIFA to line their pockets. While yes, I still believe that this tournament was created as a cash grab, which has severely backfired by the look of things with FIFA probably going to take a loss on the tournament barring the DAZN *cough* Saudi *cough* brodcasting investment, this tournament has actually been quite intresting mainly due to the Brazilian teams doing quite well in the tournement and some real shocks. Botofogo beat PSG, Flammengo beat Chelsea and gave Bayern Munich a tough game, and they are the two Brazilian teams who have been knocked out; the other two are in the quarter finals. There is also Al Hilal drawing with Real Madrid and knocking out Man City out of the tournament, despite Man City being touted as one of the favourites. And all these shocks are happening despite the European teams, who have been playing against strong teams in most games. With all these shocks, I was trying to find a reason why all these shocks were happening. Is it just luck, or is it just that these teams are more suited to the climate of an American Summer?

    One of the main talking points of this tournament has been the weather. Most of, if not all, of the games have been played in temperatures over 30°C, which, for a sport where most of the players are running around for 90 minutes, just isn’t healthy, even if you are a professional athlete. And instead of playing most of the games at night, which would be more sensible and what all the MLS teams are doing in their league matches at the moment, games are being played during the afternoon, which is the hottest part of the day, mainly due to making the tournament more accessible to a prime time European audience. And then, of course, there is the lightning. America is a hotbed for thunderstorms, and at least half a dozen games have been suspended due to nearby lightning strikes. The worst example was the Chelsea-Benfica match, which was suspended for 2 hours with the match clock at 86 minutes (I know Benfica-Auckland City was a longer delay, but the game wasn’t as deep in the latter stages as this one was). Now is this foreshadowing what will happen next year when the national teams play their World Cup in the USA next year which will be played around the whole of America and its variety of different time zones, and not predominantly on the East Coast, which has been the case this year.

    Now, this won’t be the first time the World Cup is played in North America. The 1994 World Cup in the USA is the most recent example, while Mexico hosted the World Cup twice, in 1970 and 1986. In 1994, there was a heatwave and temperatures in some games reached 40 degrees, and games were still being played during the daytime to suit the European audience, and it was the same with both of the Mexican tournaments. Do I believe America should not be hosting the World Cup? Well, in my belief, they can, but they would never do it during the winter months because of the snow threat and the American Football season taking up all the best stadiums and FIFA will not allow them to have games at night as that would affect European viewing figures and it will not maximise revenue. If this Club World Cup is anything to go by, I am now incredibly sceptical of next year’s World Cup and believe that FIFA need to put the welfare of the players and teams before they line their pockets, otherwise things might reach a boiling point.

    This Sunday, I will be releasing chapter 2 of Rocky Beach, where we will meet Ebenezer Goode and get to understand why this Bloodless group want to destroy him. Until then, I would like to thank you for reading this blog, and I hope you have a great rest of the week.

  • Rocky Beach : Chapter One

    Below is the first chapter from my crime drama fantasy. I have adapted this from the scripts I have been trying to complete since last year. I am currently on Episode 5 at the moment but it has been a struggle to complete. Hopefully, by the time I reach Episode 5 here, I will have finally completed the story. Hope you enjoy it!

    *

    Where does it all end, in the thunder and the rain that smothered the village of Little Dursley? This rain was the beginning of a spontaneous storm; apparently, it was supposed to be tame with a slight breeze. With this storm, the people of Little Dursley were conflicted. The village comprised mostly of a large farming community, primarily focused on the production of wheat and barley. With this rain, the soil would be fed, and very fortunately, the crops were collected that afternoon. This rain, however, would delay the next round of seeding by at least a week, with the soil being flooded. With that knowledge, where else to drown the sorrows than at the local watering hole, The Black Horse.

    The Black Horse had stood for many a generation. The fathers of the fathers of the fathers of the locals were accustomed to The Black Horse’s comfort and the safe haven that had been built throughout its existence. Albeit a small pub with no garden and only a couple of opaque windows, the venue had heart and life. The same could not be said for the Landlord.

    Basil Chalkley was not a local; he was not descended from the livestock. Basil was actually a Londoner; Islington, to be precise. While he had been to many a pub before and dined on the tipples they had to offer and understood the functionality of a pub, he had never thought of being in charge of one. In fact, the idea of having his own would’ve been a dreaded thought in the past. The prospect of working in a hospitable position where he would have to listen to the bullshit tales and have to interact with the people who told them from where he had previously been employed was at first daunting. But as the years went on, Basil began to enjoy his time at The Black Horse. Of course, some nights would be rather challenging, and this night was no exception. With the knowledge that the farmers who drenched themselves with ale and cider would be hesitant to leave due to the knowledge that the rain would cancel any work for the rest of the week, Basil had to make sure the pub closed when it was supposed to. Firstly, to adhere to licensing laws that were set at 11 o’clock, and lastly, so he would not run out of supplies for the following day.

    With the clock about to hit 11, Basil went to go and ring the bell to signify the last orders. The people at the bar stared at Basil as he made the walk to the bell. Their stares were not those of anger but rather those of a beggar. Before Basil rang the bell, one of the staring folk intervened. “Basil, come on now, can we not stay here for longer? It’s not like there is any work tomorrow”. Another member of the contingent intervened, “Yeah, have you seen the weather out there? You can’t send us out in that”. Basil, however, was having none of the pleas from the folk and rang the bell to signify closure. He responded bluntly, “You might not have any work tomorrow, but I do, and I understand the weather is bad, but you all had no issues walking here in the rain, so why now do you?”. With this response, the folk knew they weren’t getting another drink; they had been conditioned to Basil’s staunch stance on closing times. The people started to leave in clusters until the pub was empty.

    Basil poured himself a glass of whisky and took a moment to reflect. As he did, there came a knocking at the door. Basil at first ignored the knock, believing that this will drive the knocker away. The knocks persist, and it’s the persistence that got a response from Basil. “We’re closed, come back in the morning”. Even this does not stop the knocking, and now Basil is concerned. Pulling from under the bar a baseball bat, Basil headed over to the door armed. Near the door, Basil questioned the knocker, “Now this better not be a joke or anything, who are you?”. Suddenly, a wheeze came from the other side of the door, the sound of a call for help. It’s at this moment, Basil decided to open the front door and await the fate lurking behind it. There on the floor, Basil saw an injured man with a wound around his stomach. The blood was pouring from the wound and flooding the steps outside the pub. Basil looked at the wounded man’s face and gets the greatest shock. “John?”

    John used to work with Basil before Basil ever took tenancy in the Black Horse. Together, they were a part of the government organisation of DOMRAC, the Department of Mythical, Radical and Archaic Citizens. Within their job, it was their role to protect the lives of these citizens from discovery by humans while also maintaining law and order amongst the citizens and preventing crime. Basil and John were longstanding members of DOMRAC up until 1995, when the department had a massive overhaul in its staff after an incident involving a radical group of vampires titled The Bloodless, led by the deranged Georgious Mariakas. With Basil being involved in the case, he was ordered to go into hiding by his superiors and sent to the village of Little Dursley for his protection. Even after thirty years, it seemed Basil could still not forget the events of then as he looked in horror at John’s bleeding body.

    Basil dragged John’s body onto the carpets of the Black Horse, brought a towel from behind the bar and applied pressure to the wound. “John, what happened? Speak to me, John, why are you here?” With more strength in his voice, John responded, “I needed…I needed to find you, Basil. They have returned.” Basil, not wanting to return to life he didn’t want to ask John, “Who the Bloodless?”. John looked at Basil with a telling look, indicating that Basil is correct. Basil further questioned John, sceptical, “So how did you find me, you know that I was supposed to remain hidden. I was cut off from the world I was once a part of, barring the occasional letter, of course. Do you know what one of the last ones I read was?”Basil pulled the bat from beside the door where he left it. John grew a sudden realisation that Basil iwas onto him. “It was an invite to your funeral seven years ago.”. John then turned and went to attack Basil, but his actions are pointless as Basil swung the bat and landed shots at John’s head and instantly killed him.

    Basil immediately got some bin bags to cover John’s corpse. The blood would be harder to remove, but Basil just needed to get the body disposed of. The rain is still lashing it down outside, but there is no time to lose. This body had to go. Basil opened the front door and opened the boot of his Range Rover. He threw the body into the car and shut the lid, but as he looked down, he saw a red tinge to the water that was streaming down the drain. As he turns to look behind, he could see the dead bodies of those he had just served a half an hour ago, who begged him to keep the pub open. Basil now knew that danger is afoot; he must get his essentials and leave Little Dursley.

    Basil ran back into the pub and ran to the back and up the stairs to grab some money before he set off. Before he can run up the stairs, he heard a cry coming from the cellar below. He didn’t realise that this could be another ploy to capture him; he just didn’t want any more death to come this night. Armed with the bat and torch, Basil headed down to the cellar. Checking every corner, he saw no threat, but the cry is getting more audible. Basil turned to the beer crates and noticed a shadow from behind them. “Come out, I’m not one of them. You are safe here”. Arising from the beer crates is Charlotte, a young girl who works for Basil behind the bar. She had finished work at 10, and Basil saw her leave. Charlotte came to Basil and cried, “Who are they, Basil? They killed my mum…my sister”. Basil consoled Charlotte, “Look, Charlotte, we need to get out of here now. They are coming after me”. Who are you?” responded the tearful Charlotte. Basil responded, “The Blood…”. Basil’s eye has caught another shadow from behind the beer crates, that of someone lying down. With a closer look, he saw a shoe, the same type of shoe that Charlotte is wearing. A knife is stabbed into Basil’s gut by the impostor Charlotte. From the stairs came the rest of the assailants, looking to hunt down Basil. They are all gathered around his bleeding, dying corpse as Charlotte began to speak for the group, “He will rise, and those in the way will die. Mariakas will make this world our own; he will ascend and rise to his throne. Mariakas will not be stopped, nor his brotherhood. Off we shall go together and destroy Ebenezer Goode.”

    *

    In next week’s chapter, we will join Ebenezer Goode and understand why he is such a threat to the Bloodless. Until then, I hope you all have a great day and see you next time.

  • So We Begin

    It’s always difficult to begin something new. There is never a set guide to follow where everything falls into place perfectly and instant success is guaranteed, because inevitably, there will be obstacles, may it be a task that you just can’t wrap your head around despite having all the instructions in front of you to complete it. Just that one stumbling block will lead to self-doubt about your own ability and make you believe that maybe this task is impossible, and you are being tricked by others who just want to waste your time trying to complete this impossible task. You may have this belief where you will want to prove them all wrong and you will, despite all the persecutions into your character and the blockages they try to put in your way, work your arse off and dedicate so much of your time to get the approval you need and the approval you believe you deserve for your work. This is until you realise that these people are never going to be impressed with you because they are in it for themselves, and you need to work towards completing tasks that will benefit your livelihood and not theirs. That is, of course, one scenario you could find yourself in; not everyone is malicious and callous. Just those individuals who want to bring people down to their low, petty level because they want to be the success story and will take the stories of others just to get close to completing their manufactured one. Those individuals will always have their comeuppance as the plot holes appear and every element of the story collapses, and they end up with no story to tell at all. They will never complete every task and have regret.

    Maybe you might be surrounded by genuine people who, like you, have always had this impossible task and can never find the answer to it. They’ve come close to it before by working together, spending years in each other’s company and enjoying some brilliant times together that they won’t forget in a hurry. However, once they believe they have the answer, something wrong happens, whether it’s an accident or something just comes up, and the answer seems further away than ever before. People move on to try and complete different tasks with the hope that this will lead to the answer they want, but will always look back at that previous task and treasure some of the moments they had and never forget one single bit of it, because they were some of the best days of their lives.

    We all want answers; I’m one of those annoying people would go on a film’s Wikipedia page and find out the ending to the film ten minutes into watching the film. I understand that in the eyes of some, it may seem like a cardinal sin, but I don’t do it for every movie, just the ones that aren’t biopics. It’s not because I want to spoil the films for others; I will always keep the information to myself. The reason why I do this is just to get an understanding of where the story is going. If it is going somewhere that is just mundane and generic, like for instance, the will they, won’t they characters getting together, which happens in every film where romance is a main part of the plot or a fight sequence where the hero beats the villain in combat and everything is dandy and rosy in the end, that does not appeal to me. If the romance was platonic or unrequited, or the hero has to face consequences and leaves the story changed from how they entered it, then that, to me, is more appealing because that adds character and depth, which most mainstream films nowadays don’t have. Those films are catered to an audience who just want to escape their tasks that day and enter a world where they don’t have to think about them. Is that necessarily a bad thing? Not in the slightest. As long as we have a route to escapism, we have freedom.

    So this blog is my route to escapism, the purpose being to motivate me to write on a regular basis, which has always been something I have been rather bad at. On this blog, I will be posting twice weekly. On Tuesdays, I will be posting my thoughts and opinions on different topics and as well some of my previous experiences to the topic in question It won’t be politically charged or going out to attack people who don’t deserve it, or filled with crazy conspiracy theories about how migrants are causing everyone to get dysentery and lower sperm counts. This isn’t X. On Sundays, I will be releasing chapters of a fantasy crime drama that I have been working on for the last year, but have not had the motivation to complete due to personal tasks I have had to deal with which, one day I will be more open about, but today is not that day. Those tasks have many steps to get over before they can be completed.

    To finish this blog, I will go back to the first statement I made: it’s always difficult to begin something new. It is, no doubt in my mind, however, by taking that first brave step into your new task, you have completed the hardest step; the entry into the unknown. From this point, every step becomes easier as you feel more open and more confident in where you want to go and can plan out how you are going to get there. There will be stumbles and rocky periods and times when you feel that everything is going against you. But if this is the task you want to complete, if this is your ambition and one true desire in life, what you have always wanted, you will do it. I know you will, and the people around you who love you believe in you.