I'm walking alongside the beach of Fuengirola, on my way to a ' plaza '. The reason for this is that I have a date with a Finnish girl. She had insisted we meet somewhere closer to her house this time which makes me slightly nervous as I will be entering unknown Fuengirola territory. “One.” I count.
I have parked my car near the train station, which is actually a considerable walk away from my destination. Why? Well, I believe that once you find a good parking spot you should stick by it, regardless of where you have to be. “Two.” I count. It's 20.15 on a Tuesday night and I'm looking great, the weather is what you could consider perfect (there's a slight breeze and it's about 22 degrees). I'm passing bars, most of them are fairly empty. It seems all the tourists have left the country and the Spanish are slowly returning to the surface, like the disgusting little creatures they are. I guess that's why there is a hostile feeling surrounding the night.
“Three.” I count. As I'm walking a woman comes my way, I could describe her looks in detail but I don't want to. Let's just say she was around seventy years old, thin-wet-white hair hanging down her face, a nose like a potato you wouldn't like to see on your plate, lips like two worms that haven't had a decent meal in months, eyes so far into her skull- shadow hides most of them. All of this on a face that looked like a badly drawn cartoon skull which was recently crushed with a hammer and re assembled with super glue by someone who doesn't have a clue what he's doing.
Her mouth opens (I wish that didn't happen because the few teeth she had left weren't very nice at all.) and she begs- ' Por favor señor, Por favooor, un poco cambio... '
Just my luck, this had to happen to me. A god damn beggar, slightly annoyed I put one of my hands in my pocket and grab what I think is a coin and some old shop receipt. Her eyes light up like two diamonds and it seems this woman has just received the boost she has been searching for all this time. “Gracias, Oooh gracias!” She starts screaming, “You are an angel sent down from the heavens, your kindness will never be forgotten!” She suddenly reaches underneath her long coat and reveals two small, half frozen children. “¡Mira Maria-Josephina y Carlos-Juan mira, mira!, Este hombre es un ángel!” She screams with tears in her eyes whilst falling to her knees and arms reached out at the sky. I'm about to throw the trash in her hands when I suddenly spot that I'm actually holding a €100 bill and my car keys. No wonder this broad was going ape-shit. “Oh, my mistake” I say, whilst pocketing the items again. I'm trying to regain her attention in order to explain the error but she's  beyond hysteric. She's clapping her hands excitedly to the two children who are now dancing with their hands in the air singing- “We will be Ok now! We will be Ok now!”
“This is ridiculous,” I try to interrupt,- “Listen guys- There has been a mistake... Oh God, this is pointless.” I walk away.

“Four.” I count. As I'm walking, I start to notice the area is becoming more and more alien to me. I quickly take off my jacket to accommodate the nervous sweats that I know will come any second now. I knew I should have stopped at Bogards or the Karaoke bar for a Chivas Regal 25 first. Why didn't I trust my gut feeling on this?! I quickly look at my watch, too late to run back there, maybe I can find a decent bar on the way to the plaza... “Five.” I count. I'm looking around nervously, scanning the area for any sort of establishment that could potentially serve me a decent drink. “There!” In the distance a bright red neon sign proudly reads: 'The Thirsty Hoe'. “Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven!” a whole nest of them here.
I feel like shouting- "Go fuck yourselves with your 'Hashish, hashish' you losers. I'm not your friend and I'm too cool for your lousy drugs, fuck off back to the jungle."
I don't say anything, avoid eye contact and move straight through the group inside The Thirsty Hoe.
I was expecting to open the doors of a sleazy little Spanish bar, with a few pool tables and perhaps  a gambling machine or two. Instead there are a dozen steel cages hanging from the ceiling with semi naked Russian girls locked inside of them. It's complete chaos. Some of them are dancing, some of them drinking vodka straight from the bottle and one teary-eyed girl screaming- “Get me out of here Mr, get me out of this hell!”
“My god! Now that's what I call a show!” I scream excitedly as a door man collects my coat and walks me towards a couched VIP area centred in between three cages. A blonde waitress, walks up to my table and says- Hello, my name is Sonya, what can I get for you Master?
-'Whiskey-Cola and quickly.' I tell her.

Whilst I wait for my well deserved drink to arrive I look around, There's a man sitting on a stool with the bar tender, he's pointing at one of the cages (the one with the crying girl in it.) and hands the owner a thick envelope whilst grinning. On my right a small group of people are sitting in a more shaded area exchanging briefcases and I over hear one of them say- 'So two more truck loads of brunettes by Friday then?'
My drink arrives and I make myself comfortable, the stereo system is playing a song by James Brown titled 'Try me', only they have swapped the original music and replaced it with one of the harshest most industrial guitar riffs I have ever heard. What a discovery this place. I light up a cigarette to compliment the drink and close my eyes in complete bliss. Don't fall asleep now though Alex, don't fall asleep, don't do it, don't fall asleep. I fall asleep.

Immediately I start to dream, I'm running through Fuengirola. Running? No, I'm sprinting! I'm not so sure why but I don't really question the situation because after all - It's a dream and I'm  curious to see how this plays out.
As I'm sprinting I notice that the reason for it is most likely the T-Rex behind me, breathing down my neck. Running at around 55km/hour I change direction towards the sea, which is a good choice because I'm convinced those guys can't swim. Look at their little arms with those cute little paws... No, a T-Rex can't possibly swim with those things. Unfortunately for me I happen to be wrong on this, another one appears from the water. Jesus, he must have swam all the way from Morocco. Who would have thought? As I'm wondering how all of this is possible, the one behind me launches an attack with it's mighty teeth which I don't block because that's impossible. Instead I get ripped to shreds. Even though I'm ripped to shreds I'm somehow still alive and able to see. I'm now inside this dinosaurs stomach and there's a band there recording a music video. This typical video with some angst riddled front-woman screaming in the microphone. The lyrics are about baby seals getting their heads crushed by men with sticks. On the left of the lead singer there is a guitarist playing the bass and on her right a bassist is playing the guitar.  Behind them all, on a platform there's a drummer and instead of a standard drum kit he's playing on five replica seals which are being smashed to the beat. There is also a horse positioned in between the band, who's simply staring at the camera, chewing some grass. As the song builds up to a dramatic ending the lead singer spits out the lines: “And I'm telling you, oh ye oh ye, I will fuck your face like a seal, baby baby!” The guitarist and bassist are singing the back up lines – “Like a seal, like a seal, like a seal!” the horse starts barfing all over the drummer, the music starts to fade out and the front-woman gives a close up to the camera, looking angelic and pouting her lips.
“That's a wrap!” I scream.
The band congratulates me on a fine directing job and says they're looking forward to seeing the finished product. The horse walks up to me and asks- “Master, would you like anything else?”

I wake up and find the waitress standing over me. She repeats the question - “Master, would you like anything else?”
- 'No Sonya, I'm good for now. Go away.'
- 'Sure thing.' She says.
I finish my drink and light up a new cigarette, what am I doing here anyway? Why the fuck am I sleeping on a red leather couch in a goddamn Russian S&M dungeon? I'm going home.
Suddenly it hits me, I had a date! I look at my watch 23:39pm. Jesus, I'm already 2 hours and 39 minutes late. I wave Sonya over.
- 'Master?'
- 'No nonsense Sonya, a whiskey-cola and quickly.'
Sonya sprints to the bar and prepares me the drink in record time. Once received, I in turn, drink it in record time.
Listen Sonya, this was great but I'm not paying right now, put it on a tab or something. John Dubov is the name. Remember that name. I'm a very close friend of N'goko aka the 'Senegal-Machete', that's all you have to know at this point.
Sonya starts shivering in her boots and bows to me. I grab my coat from the doorman, who must have over heard my final words because he is on his knees holding the door open for me. I leave The Thirsty Hoe.

A few minutes go by before I finally reach my destination- The plaza. I'm looking around scoping the area. In the distance I see someone curled up on the floor in a corner, looking slightly uncomfortable, cold and well, genuinely miserable. “There we have my date.” I mumble as I walk over and say- “Okay, okay, I know I'm a little late but there is no need to exaggerate now.” There is no  reaction so I continue. -'You don't look so well by the way, awful clothes also. “Hello?! Hey, God damnit!” I kick her in the back. An ugly woman's head looks up at me confused and whines- 'Cambiooooo cammmbiooo, estoy muy frio aqui, muy friioOOOoooo!'.
This wasn't my date, this was that ugly beggar from before. I'm staring at this creature in disgust as she is whirling around on the floor, crying, drooling, filthy... someone behind me goes- 'Hey Alex, why are you holding your lighter against this woman's clothes?' I look around, my date -The Finnish Girl is standing there holding a cup of coffee with both hands.
-'No reason.' I say.
I grab the coffee from her and drink it in one go. Before she can ask me what the hell just happened I grab her tight and tell her- 'Do you have any idea how pretty you look tonight?'
We kiss.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Diary:

Entry I - This Date : [link]
Entry II - Karaoke Bar : [link]
Entry III - The Gym : [link]
Entry IV - Alien Territory : [link]


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

I'm standing in the gym with my hands covering my mouth- staring silently at the free-weights which are piled up in a corner. The reason for this is that mere moments before I saw a spider with a body the size of my fist crawl in between there. More disturbing than it's enormous size was the fact that it had a mysterious (and fairly intimidating) red mark on its body, in the shape of what appeared to be a hand with it's middle finger up.
'It probably means it's poisonous' I agree with myself.
Spiders aren't exactly my favourite creatures, I mean- to tell you the truth I think they are pretty  terrifying, I don't trust the way they move.

I carefully start moving the weights around with my foot, which is one of those things that you know you shouldn't do but for some reason you can't stop yourself. Nope- not under there. Maybe this one... Fuck me! There it is, I hear loud 'hissing' (?) and it starts to run, it's multiple legs moving in ways nature never intended. It climbs a wall and suddenly screams in a surprisingly low voice- “Fuck you asshole!”
I can imagine some of my trusty readers are currently facing some doubts regarding the extent of truth involved in this brand new journal. I don't blame you, it's powerful stuff. Nevertheless- all very true. I mean, I may have made up the “Fuck you asshole!” part but I'm only doing that to make it a little more colourful.

Anyway, I decide to start the work out and thirty minutes into it a man enters the gym. He sits himself down on a machine designed to strengthen the upper leg muscles.
-'You may not want to sit there' I say. 'I saw this enormous spider near there not too long ago man.'
-'What?' He replies. He takes his earphones out of his ears.
-'I said that I saw a spider the size of your head near there, I wouldn't sit there if I were you.'
-'Ho ho ho' He laughs.
-'Seriously man, it looked pretty dangerous.'
-'I'm not scared of little insects.'
-'A spider isn't an inse...' I try to say but he shows me his earphones moving back to his ears in a way that suggests he's not interested.
What a dick, you try and warn them and they brutally ignore you. I'm thinking to myself that this man is most likely an IPod user, only IPod users are this retarded. Suddenly there's a ringing sound coming from his pocket. The man quits the exercise and smugly takes an IPhone out of his pocket.
I knew it, those Apple users are all the same.
I'm forced to listen to some conversation he's having with some bitch called Penny.
' Penny,' He says. 'How many times do I have to tell you, I won't come back to you and those little monsters you call our children. It's over. All over.'
I'm trying to ignore it all when I suddenly spot the spider walking over his foot and up his leg.
-'Excuse me, em Penny's ex husband is it? I ask.
-'Hold on Penny, some weirdo is talking to me here.' He says.
-'Ye, sorry to interrupt but do you remember that spider I mentioned before?'
-'What of it man, I'm on the phone. Can't you see that?'
-'Well, it's currently sitting on your head, making fairly hostile gestures with it's legs.'
The guy makes a throwing away gesture at me, followed by this really annoying shaky hand thing, some kind of sarcastic – Oh, I'm so scared.

A few moments later I'm standing together with two cops looking at the man laying on the floor with a quarter of his head missing. Blood splattered all over the machine he had been sitting on. Some on me also.
-'So why did you kill him?' One of the cops starts.
-'I didn't.'
-'Don't be touching my balls!' The other cop screams aggressively, spitting all over me.
-'Balls? What?!' I ask confused.
-'There's a dude laying here with his big head smashed up like a rotten tomato, and it's only you in this gym! It doesn't take a god damn detective to figure out what happened here mother-fucker!' He points his machine gun at my face. 'You want some of this, ye?!'
-'Easy Juan, easy.' the other cop says in a soothing way.
-'Sorry, Carlos but these kind of fuckers really get to me you know.'
-'Listen, Carlos, Juan,' I begin'- I think we started off on the wrong foot here. I can tell you what happened if you give me a few minutes?'
-'I'm giving you two minutes.' That bastard of a Juan says, whilst looking at his watch.
-'Ok, well so there was this spider here and...'
-'Hold on.' Carlos says, let me get my sketch pad out so we can make a sketch of this “Spider” fella, Italian I presume? Did he speak with an accent? Mob? What did he look like?'
-I Don't know where it was from really, Spain I presume, Although it could have come over on a boat from some other country or something, you never know that... Em, accent, I don't know, he only hissed at me. Anyway, really huge, gross body, big hairy legs and some kind of red sign on it's back... Kinda.. Euh... Like a hand with it's middle finger up.' I lean into the drawing of the potential suspect Carlos has been drawing. There's a rough sketch there of a big, angry, unattractive Spanish male, with hairy legs and a 'fuck you' middle finger tattoo.
-Like this? He asks.
-'Well ye, but he had 8 legs...' I say.
There's a moment of silence where everyone is staring at the sketch before Juan suddenly flies to my throat screaming- “I told this mother-fucker not to screw my balls!”
There's a full on fight going down on the floor, Juan biting my face screaming- “You're lying, You're fucking lying!” Carlos is trying to pull Juan off me by his legs screaming- “Not again Juan, Not again Juan!” And then there's me pressing my two thumbs in Juan's eyes, screaming – “You blind fuck, get off me! Get off me!”

A while later things have cooled down because everyone got really tired of fighting, that's why things cooled down I mean. Because, people got tired. Of fighting that is.
-'Let's try this once more.' Carlos says. 'So it was an actual spider who did this you say?'
-'Yes and no...' I say. I can see Juan biting his lip until it started bleeding, probably because of frustration.
-'Ok, well explain then man'
-'Right, there was a big spider in here when I came in, I tried to look for it, to kill it or something but it went missing. Then there was this guy that came in, this total asshole, well it was this guy on the floor actually. The one with one quarter of his head missing.'
-'You reckon that's a quarter?' Carlos asks me intrigued. 'It's more than a quarter, I would go as far as to say it's 50% missing. What do you think Juan?'
-'I don't give a fuck.' Juan replies, still a little sour.
-'Ok, well anyway,' I continue, 'So I was warning this asshole here, with a quarter of his head missing... or 50%, all the same for me.  Ye, so I was warning him about that spider but he wouldn't listen, until it suddenly appeared on his (at that point still complete) head. Anyway, so this guy finally notices the thing after receiving a fairly serious bite and completely loses the plot, screaming shit like- “Raaaaaah! Penny, Penny There's a over-sized, deformed tarantula on my big head! Help, Help etc.” Because this guy was freaking out the spider went apeshit also and started biting more and harder causing that dead guy on the floor here to start smashing his head against the machine, in the hopes of squashing the spider or something. It was all very bizarre.
I can hear Juan behind me and he's whimpering - “oh God, so horrible, oh God so horrible...”
Carlos waves him away and turns back to me asking- 'So this spider, did it get squashed in the end?'
Again, there's Juan behind me going- 'Oh sweet Maria, Oh sweet Maria...'
Carlos looks at him annoyed but asks me- 'Well!?'
- 'I wasn't too sure at the time' I say, 'but apparently not because I think that's what your buddy behind me is getting upset about. It's kinda walking on your shoulder right now...' I point at his right shoulder and as he follows my finger with his eyes I can see the colour drain from his face.
There's the classic short silence before Carlos emits an ear destroying: “THAT'S A FUCKING TARANTULA!!!” Before I can properly asses the situation Carlos grabs his machine gun and starts shooting like a crazy person. I drop to the floor for cover and watch as this guy unleashes countless amounts of bullets, screaming “TARANTULA! TARANTULA!” and waving his arms around like an epileptic, destroying just about every singly mirror in the gym, dropping his cop partner Juan with a not so clean head shot, removing about a quarter of his head (or 50% depending on the angle I guess.) and eventually also himself with about 30 bullets to the chest, feet, legs etc.
In short- It's a big mess.
So there I am – laying on the floor, with my hands covering my ears. (for the noise, why else.) laying in a pool of blood in between three dead mofos. It's all very surreal.
I slowly stand up, look around at what used to be a gym, grab my bag and move towards the exit. The spider walks by and says- “See you tomorrow man.”
-'No can do,' I reply -'I have a date tomorrow.'
I leave the gym.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Diary:

Entry I - This Date : [link]
Entry II - Karaoke Bar : [link]
Entry III - The Gym :[link]


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

“No, I'm telling you man – This is JB!” I scream at the semi-hot waitress.
She sighs ridiculously long to indicate just how bored and annoyed she is to be standing here having this argument.
-“Well, no offence, but I asked for the Chivas Regal 25, you also charged me for the Chivas Regal 25, and then you serve me JB.
- “What's the difference.” She asks with sleepy eyes.
- “The difference!?...The difference she asks! Oh no!” I laugh in complete disbelieve looking for sympathy and understanding from the couple sitting at the table across from me. I fail to receive any.
I suddenly start sweating and feel some sort of panic attack creeping up but manage to remain calm. I take a moment to prepare my explanation.
- “The difference is that Chivas Regal 25 YO Scotch has distinct notes of apricot and peach throughout, a warm, fruity aroma and a nutty, chocolate and orange palate. It is the ultimate in smooth and balanced Scotch with astonishingly rounded finish. In other words: The most awesome drink you will ever have - A masterpiece! A MASTERPIECE!” I repeat to her good willed, hoping she will catch on to my positive energy.
The waitress says nothing, removes the faulty drink and turns around, back to the bar. From a mirror across the room I can see her rolling her eyes and mouthing- 'Chinga tu madre, cabron'.
“Jesus, what a bitch huh?”  I say with a smile to the couple at the table across from me.
Once again they don't respond.
“Fucking zombies...” I mumble.

I check my phone and like usual there are no messages. I can tell from the corner of my eye someone is watching me so I pretend to open a none existing message and start reading intensely whilst nodding 'Yes' once a while. I put my phone back down on the table and light a cigarette. There is nothing more special than lighting up a cigarette in anticipation of a soon to arrive Chivas Regal 25.
Since I'm waiting for my drink to come back from the bar in the correct form, I may as well describe my surroundings. I'm sitting at a lounge bar called 'Bogards' by the beach in Fuengirola, I'm  sitting here because I have set up a date with a Finnish girl.
Like usual I have arrived an hour early to check out the scene and mentally prepare for the encounter. It's 4 p.m. and the idea that I have an hour left before my date arrives gives me a surprisingly safe feeling. I met this girl a week ago, during a night out. The only minor problem with her is that she is only six-teen years old. Which some people may frown upon considering I'm twenty-three.

A different waitress brings my new drink, correct this time. I smile gratefully and say- “Thanks, that other waitress tried to serve me JB instead of Chivas Regal, can you believe that! JB! She could learn a thing or two from you, she has absolutely no clue.”
- “Ye, that was me.” She says.
- “What?”
I look at her properly this time, the girl was right, she was the same waitress as before.
“Right, never mind. My mistake.” I wave her away.
- “Wow, that's pretty embarassing.” I laugh at the couple sitting across from me.
Once again, no response. I tilt my head closer to them and squint my eyes to get a better look. My god, they're not even real people! They're some kind of plastic fucking decoration dolls!   
Slightly confused, I take a sip from my drink. I get a shiver all the way throughout my spine, it's that good.

I observe the street, people walking by going around their daily business. An over weight man strolls by with an enormous tattoo of an English Breakfast on his back. I concentrate and exercise extreme will-power not to gag, the bacon was drawn in such an unappetizing way. Incredible.
On the street three black guys are standing besides an array of fake goods (purses, CD's, DVD's, sun glasses, bags, etc.) I look over because it's hard not to since one of them is wearing baggy bright orange pants and (now I have to be careful) he's eating a banana with the skin still on. (Many people will start labelling me as 'racist' now, I can just feel it – You use 'black guy' and 'banana' in one sentence and you're considered racist. But that's simply the way it was. The black guy was devouring a banana, sue me. Right next to him there was a stereo system most people in the 80's would have considered old fashioned, it was strangling some sub-Saharan tune featuring a set of ngoma drums, slit gongs, rattles, double bells and the vocals of what seemed to be a monkey in distress.
A few minutes go by as I try and block my ears from this infernal noise when suddenly I spot the black guy looking straight at me. He checks his surroundings quickly and moves my way, holding his pants up to avoid them slipping even lower than his knees.
“Oh, fuck me...” I panic, this guy is going to machete me in broad daylight! I contemplate running away and screaming for help but instead play it cool and take a sip from the Chivas Regal 25.
I'm staring at the table, just don't make any eye contact I think to myself.
He comes right up to me and whispers- “Hey, Charlie – How are u doin my friend? Want some good shit, ye? Best shit on The Coast and best price just for you Charlie.”  
I mutter up some courage and look up at him, he has taken out a new banana from his back pocket and eats half of it with one bite.
- “You want to see the shit my friend, I give you a taste for free.”
- “I'm Okay” I reply.
He ignores what I said, checks the area once again to make sure it's clear and puts half his hand into his mouth. It comes back out of his mouth and reveals a large chunk of banana.
- “a piece of banana?” I ask, confused.
- “Hold on my friend.” He says, a little embarrassed.
Once again nearly the entire hand disappears in his mouth and now he reveals a small satchel, slightly stained with blood.
- “Wow, that's insanely fucked up”I say. In my head I'm wishing I chose another place to sit or something, this really isn't so fun.
I try to explain to this man that I'm not interested but he's not really responding and instead just kinda waiting for me to take out some money and buy his cocaine.
Suddenly he becomes distracted and a few seconds later I can see his eyes have locked in on a young beautiful woman. She walks by us and he suddenly tells her- “Big Boob, big boob very nice!” He lets his tongue drop out of his mouth and flaps it up and down like a lizard- 'Flapflapflap!'.  
- “Oh Jesus”... I nearly sink through the floor of pure shame, if there's one thing I can't take and simply will not tolerate it's disgusting little things like that. I stand up, take my stuff and move to another table whilst nodding 'No' to myself.

A little while later, as I'm enjoying the last drops of my god-like drink someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and unfortunately the black guy is standing there again.
“I would like to apologize man.” He starts, suddenly I notice he has lost the weird accent and he's now talking in a perfect English one.
“I didn't mean to force the drugs on you or anything, I don't even want to sell you this, it's awful stuff. I'm only doing this to pay for my studies. I'm finishing my Doctorate in engineering this year.
“Why has your accent changed?” I ask.
“White boys are more likely to buy drugs from me if I appear to have held on to my roots, otherwise they feel threatened ” He explains, whilst taking a seat at my table. “Gosh, I'm starving, I hear they serve a fine poached halibut with vegetables here.” He places the order with the bitchy waitress and continues - “In Senegal it was always the same: Banana, banana and more banana. I remember when I was a young boy aged six I told my mother – Mother, I said, I've had just about enough of these bananas! Banana puree, roasted banana, banana in coconut milk, grilled, cooked, chopped. Up to three times a day man, I had banana coming out of my ears. “Mother,” I said, “this banana is coming out of my ears right about now!”
As this guy continued talking about different banana recipes an old couple walked by and I could hear the man say- “I'm telling you Jozephine, one of these days I will kill you, I'm not even fucking kidding.” As I waited for the woman to respond the waitress placed the poached halibut in front of N'goko. (That just so happened to be his name.)
N'goko started deboning the fish with surgical precision and ease and in a few minutes time he had eaten the entire dish. He licked his fingers and said- “You simply can't put a price on a fresh halibut, I can eat it all day long, halibut, halibut and once again – halibut.”
A few skater kids were now standing near the bar and looking to make eye contact with N'goko, most likely in need for his services.
“Work is calling now.” He announced. -“Great talk, great food, good times.” We said our goodbyes and as he stood up, he grabbed a brand new banana from his back pocket and hopped down to the needy customers.
A police car had mean whilst parked near by and two cops walked over to one of the African boys who was eating a watermelon. One of the cops started a conversation about the weather whilst the other police man browsed the DVD's. He ended up purchasing Jungla de Cristal (more commonly known as Die Hard), Bad Boys II, and Hostel whilst announcing he loved 'that torture shit'.
As I stared at my now empty drink, my date appeared around the corner. She looked over at me and watched as I let my tongue flap out my mouth and went 'FlapFlapFlap' with it. She smiled, sat herself down and said: “Hey Alex!”
“Hello there you.” I reply and I can't quite decide if I should move in for a hug, peck or kiss. The result is something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. I kind of semi grab her, nearly head butting her face whilst my lips miss hers and hit her in the ear instead.
“What?” I say, answering her questioning look.
“This is how I happen to greet people.”
She seems momentarily dazzled by my explanation but then relaxes.
There's a short silence which I put to good use and  light up a fresh cigarette, best to keep those hands busy. I decide to open the conversation being careful to stay away from cliches such as- 'So, how was your day?' Etc. Instead I explain to her that if we want to buy aids riddled, cheap yet great cocaine from N'goko in the orange pants right there, we are good to go. I point at N'goko by the street who answers my gesture by winking at me knowingly and sticking up his thumb.
“That guy is fucking mental” I start, “You should have seen, he was sitting here before you arrived, talking about his fucking poached halibut for close to 45 minutes.”
The girl tries to get a word in but before she has the chance I rattle on – “Halibut! Can you believe that? A cocaine dealer who's obsessed with poached halibut! My God! So anyway, are you always this silent? Let's go play some pool! I haven't played for ages but I was once considered quite a  phenomenal player.” I grab her hand before the girl can respond and drag her to the table. “You know how this game works right? I'm not a very good teacher, so if you don't know the rules there's not much I can help you with.
She assures me she knows the rules of the game and we begin. She takes the first shot and ramms the black '8' ball in the pocket whilst unleashing a deafening “Hooray!” As she jumps into the air and does a little dance. I'm left absolutely speechless and wonder if I should attempt to explain she kinda just lost the game.
“Great shot.” I say, looking around to check if anyone saw what had just taken place. No one, typical... Not much else happens throughout the rest of the game (which I had already won 1 minute into it.) besides the fact that when I was trying to put my final ball that bitch of a waitress 'accidentally' walked into me, forcing me to miss my shot entirely. I nearly put her down permanently, with a stare so intense it's capable of bringing a full grown stallion to it's knees.
We both move back to the couch and order another drink, I have a Red Bull and she has a water.
The game of pool has succeeded at breaking the ice and the conversations are starting to flow a lot easier compared to the beginning.

Suddenly I wake up, “WHAT!? Where the FUCK am I!?” I scream hysterically. The girls' instinct immediately takes over and she covers her face with her hands and screams- “No! Please, don't kill me!” She had turned herself into a little ball for maximum protection.
My heart is pounding like a Thunderdome song. “What the fucking hell happened!?” I ask, whilst my eyes scan the room so fast it's making me even dizzier than I already am.
- “I was telling you about my family and where I grew up and suddenly you were asleep Alex.” She starts crying a little. “I didn't know what to do Alex, so I just waited here next to you for 20 minutes or so.” She had to stop a moment as she tried to get her breath back and find the courage to explain more. “You seemed to have some kind of.. nightmare because you were mumbling all these crazy things about an English breakfast with bananas and herds of wild apes devouring them. I didn't know how to help so I tried to shake you around a little to see if I could wake you up... and then...” she started weeping again. - “I'm so sorry, forgive me!”
“There, there.” I say soothingly, as I stroke her back - “It could have happened to the best of us, don't worry about it.”
We cuddle a little and move on to the beach where we sit in the sand, a few dozen meters away from the actual water, which I don't trust for even one second. “The sea can't be underestimated.” I explain. “You don't know what lives in there, you know? I'm telling you, when I was younger my brother once pushed me into a pond whilst we were fishing, I remember how they circled me... smiling, plotting... I blacked out from fear but I was told horrible, unspeakable events took place that day which are best forgotten... forever.”
She smiles amused. Until she meets my deep blank stare suggesting I'm not joking around and she instantly corrects her expression to an understanding, nurturing face.
“There, there.” she says soothingly, as she strokes my back - “It could have happened to the best of us, don't worry about it.”
We are interrupted by a man shrieking at the top of his voice, completely out of breath sprinting our way.  He falls down in front of our feet trying to get some air back into his lungs. “BILL!” He whimpers, “You never paid your bill...” He's rolling in the sand trying to survive this ordeal. “The heat!” He cries. “Water, I need water!”
What an awkward scene. I throw a €100 bill in his face and we leave the man to his fate. Not 5 seconds later one of the black guys (not the one with the watermelon and not N'goko, but the other one.) who was currently eating some fried chicken had witnessed this entire ordeal and casually walked up to the dying man, picked the bill off his face and skipped away back to his buddies.

An hour later we arrive at the girls' house, it was time to say goodbye and suddenly I become a nervous wreck. I'm drumming away on my steering wheel whilst talking her through the plot lines of Saw 1 to Saw 5. I eventually notice the time and realize we've been sitting in the car for close to two hours. Jesus, doesn't this girl ever shut up I wonder. I move in for a goodbye kiss which turns into a full blown French kiss and it's really nice. It feels like I'm spinning and like we're actually moving backwards in the car. When I finally open my eyes I notice that we are in fact moving backwards, at about 60km/hour down a hill. “Woops!” I forgot to keep the brakes pressed in! I slam them as hard as I can whilst this girl is going absolutely ape shit next to me. Screeching tires sound like wild animals and the car eventually comes to a halt about half a meter from a cliff.
“So, this was great, we should do it again sometime.” I try and minimize the near death situation. "Yes, we certainly should" She says, smiling.
She leaves the car and disappears in the night. I sit in my car and light up a cigarette, take out a notebook and write all of this down, just in case I'll ever forget- This Date.

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Diary:

Entry I - This Date : [link]
Entry II - Karaoke Bar : [link]
Entry III - The Gym :[link]

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Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

I'm sitting here working on some new 'art' and suddenly I put my Wacom pen down and stare at the screen. About 15 minutes go by and I suddenly realize I've been working on a piece of photo manipulated rock island. A photo manipulated rock island...

Suddenly I can't help but wonder: Why? Why am I bothering? It's not like when this is done there will be any kind of conclusion. What's the point of this ridiculous fucking island!? I already know what it will look like when it is finished. I already know the comments I will receive, I already know how many favourites this new giant waste of time will get me.

Suddenly I just want to smash my screen (and my own face a little too).

I turn on some song by a guy called 'Slim Harpo' called Strange Love. Light up a cigarette and start wondering about things. I'm wondering where the hell snails go when it's not raining. You never see them anywhere but as soon as there's a few drops of rain they seem to take over the world. I could probably look up the answer to this question on the internet, but I'm scared I will most likely find my answer in a really dull, unimaginative form. I think I prefer the mysterious unknown.

Tomorrow I start kick boxing classes and I'm guessing I will get paired up with a skinny 9 year old boy. The teacher will stand in front of us all and announce- "Well guys, I would just like to get a feel of where you are all at, to see what I'm dealing with." "So please come up in your pairs and show me what you've got." It's my turn and before the teacher says 'start' I drop kick the 9 year olds' face in and accidentally break his neck. "Woops" I mumble. People start screaming left and right- "You killed him, My God! You killed little Juanjo! He's Dead!."

"Uhu, So it appears" I say, and walk out.

As I leave the building the teacher appears around the corner and screams- "My god! I have never seen a drop kick that effective, you took your target down permanently with one kick." He shakes my hand enthusiastically whilst rattling on- "Wonderful, just wonderful!" His eyes reveal pure admiration and a healthy amount of desperate, new found love for life.

"It is how it is." I say, and drive off with screeching tires in a black Lamborghini pulling out two machines guns, dropping people left and right. The unwounded cheer me on with big smiles and the car disappears under loud applause and a giant full moon.

The End.

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Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

Interview transcript with an online art magazine:




- Is your real name Alex Casteels or is it an 'artist name'?

- Artist name. My first name is John, my surname has to remain unknown. To protect my family from potential shame, because in some circles they are considered extremely important people.

- What kind of circles?

- Circles into which very little people have access.

- Some kind of council?

- A mighty beast wears many horns...

- The Government?

- People who own the throne better remain quiet.

- ...The porn industry?

- In every kitchen they serve birds and mussels from time to time...

- What?

  ...Do you own any pets?

- A dog.

- Great, what kind of dog?

- A Ditch-Dog.

- A what?

- A Ditch-Dog.

- What kind of breed is that? A Ditch-Dog? I have never heard of that breed...

- They are very rare, it's a dog who only wants to sleep in a ditch.

- Jesus, is that true?! That's weird, my god- a Ditch-Dog... interesting though, so where do you have this ditch? In your garden?

- I have two of them, one small ditch and one large ditch.

- Is that important? For the Ditch-Dog I mean?

- Well, it's certainly not un-important.

- Oh... euh, How so?

- If I keep him company at night we use the large ditch, if he sleeps alone he uses the small ditch.

- What?

- If I keep him company at night we use the large ditch, if he sleeps alone he uses the small ditch.

- Right. So wait, you sleep in a ditch with him... is that for inspiration?

- Inspiration for what?

- Well, your Art?

- Oh, I never looked at it like that, but now that you mention it, that's certainly a possibility.

- So, this Ditch-Dog, what is it's name?

- Three-Leg

- Because he's missing a leg?

- No.

- *silence*

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Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

So as I'm sitting here listening to a Prince CD (which came highly recommended) I keep sinking deeper and deeper into my chair. I've listened to the first three songs and I'm ready to upload the CD back to the website where I stole it from in the first place. What a rip-off.

The bright ones amongst you may have noticed the lack of updates here at your favourite spot on DeviantART, The reasons for this are two fold, make that three fold. Or four fold whilst we're at it.

You'd think I would be sharing those reasons after mentioning their existence but no. In the end it's none of anyone's business. But Bionic7, why do you bring it up in the first place then! Well, my dear, loyal, talentless watchers - usually when I complain/write/bitch that I can't be bothered with any of it anymore - I end up creating new work within the next few days.

Who knows what that's about.

So, we can now eagerly await the next pointless, mediocre little work I produce.

Now I must go to the gym before I either grind my teeth to shit or break my entire room into 10 million pieces, this protein shake is actually simply crushed xtc, I'm sure of it.

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Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

I haven't uploaded any new work for ages because I'm way too fucking cool.

Thank you and goodnight.

kwak! kwak! kwak!

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Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

I finally got around to building my DA portfolio, you can check it out here: [link]

In other news:

Today I was driving to the shop and I saw these 2 cab drivers greet each other with their car lights when they crossed paths. I nearly started to cry.

What a nice little thing you know.

It's so fun to see all this little stuff, like my dog for example... Every time I come home, even if I was only away for an hour or so he comes through the gate with this insanely happy face, waggling it's tail as if I was away for 10 years.

I bought this DVD from this black dude on the street yesterday for 3 euros, not because I actually plan to watch it but just because he was trying so hard... and this piece of shit family ignored the shit out of him. You should have seen how happy he was.

I think my emotions have completely lost the plot.

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Video Walkthroughs:

Verkenner: [link]
Street Musician: [link]
Olga Kurylenko Portrait: [link]
Witching Hour: [link]

Ok, so these are some things I have learned over time that I wish to share with you.

You have to keep in mind that I can only speak from my personal experiences and view points, it won't be like this for every single person here. Nevertheless, I believe that through honesty I can perhaps warn some people on here, more specifically the crowd finishing high school and thinking about going to university to study an art related course.

There's a saying that keeps coming up when you think about art, it goes something along the lines of - Everything is possible if you work hard enough.

It's simply not correct to go by this philosophy. However awful that sounds...

It may be true for the very few people who make a good living being an artist and are now playing oracle for the other hopefuls. Bullshit like 'Follow you Dream' sounds amazing but it's not quite as simple.

The reality is that 90% of people will NEVER make a good living in this business. Of course there is the whole argument which says doing a job you enjoy is worth a lot also. Well sure, but how long can you enjoy something that just doesn't pay for the life style you wish to lead?

The idea of being an artist is really appealing, even a struggling one. It suggests a certain uniqueness that people admire. This is true when you are young especially. Maybe it remains like that for some few individuals but I myself like to be able to live comfortably and spend money once a while. I would rather not live in a small studio apartment until I'm 35 years old or share a house with 5 people to make rent. It's probably due to my childhood and being fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on the way you look at it.) enough to have parents that made good money.

When I was younger I used to feel that that as long as I was working this 'dream' job I would be pretty happy regardless of the money I made.

Untrue.

I may have lost some of you already at this point with this whole I like money better than a fun job but I'm hoping some have stuck around to at least hear my reasoning.

First of all I want to say that if you're thinking about following an art course at university - don't.

Most employers don't give a fuck what you studied and what grade you got, they just want to know that you can work all the packages required for the position. You are far better of taking out two years and teaching yourself how to work all the software. Seriously.

The whole degree thing is there to make you feel like you have some kind of safety net, it's an illusion. There are simply not enough jobs in this business to offer all these graduates every single year. What makes this worse is that for some reason at university they refuse to fail people and instead give the large majority (around 90%) the exact same grade!

Think about it, every single year 1000's and 1000's of students in every single country all over the world graduate with a similar score. How the fuck is that going to work out? Now you're thinking, well Alex - it's about your portfolio. Fuck all that, none of it means anything.

My suggestion up until this point is - Fuck University, take out a year to learn all the software, then get an unpaid internship at a small company, get the oh so crucial experience for your CV, try and do this for a year or two (simply use the money you would have spent on the university to get by) and THEN apply for a job. You will come out at the same time as people who followed the course and be 10x more likely to snatch up a decent job in the industry.

This idea makes sense up until this point, it's the course of action I would have taken if I could turn back time... if I wasn't aware of the next part of bullshit.

Let's say you do get a job somewhere, if you take a fine art course you are pretty much fucked and I have no further suggestions for you. However if you believe to be clever like me and pick a more commercial course such as graphic design/multimedia/photography etc. First have a look at the jobs available on any job board out there. Quite little huh? But you believe you're just that little bit better than other people so why not, why shouldn't one of those jobs be for you? True... but have you seen how much they pay? As a junior designer you're looking at a 14000 to 22000 pounds a year.  In other words, there's no way you are not gonna either live in a fucking dump or sharing a place with a bunch of people. Ok, to some like me that didn't sound THAT awful.

Go to the next stage, look what they require you to know for this piece of shit position. These days it's not just being good at one thing, they expect a little slave that knows just about every relevant piece of software out there. You may be able to design anything but can you prepare all of that for web too? Animate it? Maybe you are one of those jack of all trades, great. Good luck working this job, you will be dealing with clients such as banks, insurance companies blabla, designing a leaflet for a new promotion they are holding. Wait a second, that wasn't the big dream was it? After all these hoops you have successfully jumped through - working a 9 to 5 job for roughly 18 000 pounds a year (which is just enough to make rent and buy groceries. Forget about actually saving anything) being a slave for a boss working really dull projects day after day?! What... You think you can actually be creative working a job like this? Please...

A while ago I was watching DVD extras of the (awful) Alien VS Predator film. In a part called - 'designing the creatures' or something along those lines we follow the camera around this giant studio where people are working on these insanely amazing props, alien heads, armor for the predator, you see groups of concept artists drawing away basically coming up with the entire look and feel of this film. It looks simply amazing, some of the most talented men and women working together in this chilled atmosphere doing what they like.

How much do you think they make?!

FUCKING NOTHING, shit man, look it up? Don't take my word for it... research.

Think about it, actors, directors, movie studios... HOW MUCH money they make with films?! It's such a huge money making business and if the very best artists, those very few who get to work in a studio like that don't even make money... Who does?

Ok, fine. Try and cut the whole boss factor out, that's where the real money is... or at least in theory.
Freelance sounds amazing doesn't it? Make up your own hours, work jobs for a wide variety of clients that you can accept or reject, set your own prices... Sign me up. Or at least sign me up to the idea of it all. Freelance is amazing when you're young and still studying. You have some jobs for some extra cash, it's all good fun.

Now, try and work out how many jobs at your price range you have to complete to make up minimum wage... It's a lot more than you think. You think everyone pays up? I've been doing this Freelance shit since I was 16 or something. I think half of the projects I completed remain unpaid. I worked with contracts and all that bullshit... and it's still all a waste of time really. You think people are worried about that fake lawyer you're threatening them with? A project they set for a lousy €400?! They know you're young and don't have the cash to take the whole thing through the lengthy expensive process of suing them.

Even if you have figured out the whole contracts thing perfectly limiting the amount of projects that fail. Trust me, it's not easy to find enough clients to make up... even minimum wage. On top of that, these days you have sites like 'CrowdSpring' literally destroying the freelance artist.

The concept of CrowdSpring is simple: A client comes there and sets their design brief. Every designer on the site sees the brief and starts working on an entry. Hundreds of designers are putting in at least a few hours to serve this potential client of theirs, yet of course - only one can win. The client of course likes to keep their options open as long as possible and take a good amount of entries further, so a selected amount of artists end up working on updates/changes/requests of the client spending more and more time on a project only 1 of them can win.

Ok, out of the 140 designers, 130 lost a few hours of their day. 9 got their hopes up and spent the original hours PLUS an additional set to finish all the requests made... to then find out that final 1 person won. Tough shit 139 designers! Good luck next time.

Tell me though, why would this unknowing, random potential client come to you rather than this site? A place like CrowdSpring is advertising like crazy these days, they are reaching a far larger crowd than most of us. Lots of people in need of graphic design work know very little about the subject and will flock to something that seems straight forward. They're not gonna spend days on the internet looking for a specific designer in most cases. By going to CrowdSpring they can simply submit their brief and have 100's of needy artists work their ass off to complete the project in the hope of winning. As the client you get a lot of different view points, you can keep giving suggestions and make tons of requests to whoever you want blablabla. The site handles the money aspect, the file sharing when completed, the contracts....

There's simply less risk for them this way. Yet what everyone fails to see is that everyone wins besides the artists.

Most designers on there have participated in over 100 projects, most have never won a single time... but let's say a really great/lucky designer won 5x.

Out of those 100 projects, each lasting an average of 5 hours lets say, 500 hours of work has gone into winning 5x...

Are you starting to see what I'm getting at? It's an illusion, an illusion of making money.

The site wins because the artists are there to complete the briefs, the clients win because the artists are there creating their design solutions and... somehow the artists are the only one losing. Even though they are the ones making it all possible.

A graphic novel, illustrating a book? Takes about a year whichever way you try and pull it off. If you are lucky enough to even find a publisher (which 99% won't) have you seen how much they pay you? I'm not even going to tell you, please research it and think about it. Think about that year of work and the pay for it.

Selling prints online? Ye right, every single person with a print account here does it for a bit of pocket money. Digital art has no value. Nothing that can be reproduced as many times as you please has value. As a customer - Why the fuck would you pay the website for printing it, the artist for making it, the post company for sending it, all for a fucking piece of paper that for all you know the entire world already owns?! It's a concept that doesn't make sense.

Why doesn't DeviantART publish a list of sales? If it was all so positive? I bet most of you with a print account have barely sold any. The best of the best on here, that small percentage of artists who sell tons of prints through DeviantART. Do you think they can make a living with it? Even close?

Web Design? Shit man, they have rows and rows of people in places like India working for close to nothing mass producing this kind of thing. They have tons of websites selling 'ready to go' templates for under $100. Good luck trying to convince people that if they pick you they get more value for their money. (there's no denying that they do but people hardly care, everyone looks for the cheapest option) Besides, these days everyone and their sister know how to code a piece of shit site. 15 years ago there was money to be made in this, now... I'm not so sure.

I don't know man, I have many more points and things I wish to say but I just can't be fucked to write it all down anymore.

This isn't some huge dramatic - 'I quit' type of journal but I'm just starting to wonder why I'm trying so hard to make all of it work, every time I do some research into the end result, the finishing line, the big dream it's just fucking disappointing. I'm starting to wonder if there is a real place for artists in today's world.

I don't mean to de-motivate the people who want to try and make this their job, I just hope to give you some insight, make the effort to do some research into this world. You may be really surprised as to what you find.

I'm not saying no one makes it, I'm saying that the very few who do make it - don't even make that much money doing it.

There's always the odd exception that we fix our eyes on of course...

There's also a winner of the lottery jack pot every so often... In the end you are still more likely to get hit by lightning than be THAT guy...

School fails big time at preparing you for this business. I'll tell you right now, how you can make it as an artist:

1) Have REAL talent. The word talent gets thrown around easily these days. I'm not talking about your family enjoying your work, I'm not talking about being the best in your school, I am talking about being the top 100 in your country.

2) Have dedication. Not a few hours a day, every day, every night. Work work work. It's all you should do and think about doing.

3) Research and plan. Sounds lame but there's no way around it, being prepared and knowing the business is crucial.

4) a little bit of luck.

This is my opinion... don't let it crush your dreams. I fail at every single point here but I'm still not sure I'm ready to give up. Simply because I enjoy it so much, regardless of the set backs, failures and pure shit that came with it.

And now the big closing line:

It is what it is mjan.

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Blog: [link]

Could someone please try and explain to me what's great about Twilight? Besides that hot guy?

I tried watching it after a night out and Jesus Christ.. It was beyond awful! I really don't want to bash anything here and neither do I expect to see a bunch of comments saying- "Ye, lol - it's so gay!!"

I'm just a little bit confused, I watched the trailer for the second one and it looks even worse.

I'm just really curious if it's just me missing something here or if people just have really bad taste in film.

I guess the questions is: What do you like about Twilight?

It sure as fuck can't be the acting, the 'special' effects or the story. I didn't see any particularly nicely shot scenes either and it definitely does not win any originality award so... Enlighten me.

It's like Transformers, never mind the second one and it's criticism, the first one was equally shit.

But it made like $390.000.000 so maybe it's just me... perhaps I just don't 'get it'.

Looking forward to hearing some answers to the question that keeps me up late at night.

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Blog: [link]

I'm actually interested in hearing YOUR opinion for once, so take advantage of this once a lifetime opportunity.

My question is as follows:

Where would you like to see DeviantART go in the future?
What are your opinions on the Premium member features? Do you think they are worth it?
What else would you like to see added to the site?
Do you think having a premium (paid) stock section on this site would be a good thing or a bad thing?
Do you want this to be a place to simply share your work or a place to commercialize your work?

You don't have to answer these all, a general reply will do it too, I'm just curious what other people want and what they are here for.




In other news - as my awesome Twitter feature display thing states: I'm working on something new. It's gonna be so awesome it will melt your fucking eyes right out. (I do this to make sure I actually try hard and don't just deliver some piece of shit... set the expectations you know...)

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Blog: [link]

Woohooo! First time I do this, it was so fun to see the whole thing back.

Here you go: [link]

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Blog: [link]

Ye, time for a new journal, that last one just kept going on and on. People crying left and right.

What a joke.

So, what have we all learned from this?

1) Stock is a dodgy subject.
2) Stock providers are babies.
3) No one likes following the stupid fucking rules these guys set.
4) I'm the best.
5) Thanks for the 'Daily Deviation' (it was well deserved.)

Cheers and goodnight.

-me

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Blog: [link]

All day long I've been sitting here trying to start a new work, ALL DAY LONG. Everything I have tried has failed. This fucking shit has never happened to me before, what a struggle!

Nothing is good enough. I mean, usually I start something randomly and then 5 hours later it's done. I never really think or plan ahead, just happens. Now for some fucking reason I keep coming up with these absolutely awful combinations as a starting platform. A desert and a camel... wow, Alex, that's gonna be one to frame man! Great start asshole.

A wall made out of textures.... and then... ? ...... nothing, delete. The weird thing is I actually have tons of stuff I feel like making, actual ideas... Which is like the first time ever. It seems I can only create things when I don't have a clue what I want to make.

What's that about mjan...

Anyway, I fucking give up for today, it's just not happening. It was 41 degrees outside as well and this goddamn desert wind coming from inland. No escaping that, impossible to work. Keep cool, keep cool. Raaaaaahahahahhugwehje!!

I want to break my entire room into a thousand pieces, ruin this fucking sauna!

"fuck" "fuck" "fuck", so much swearing. Grow up kid!


Watch Deadgirl, it's great, watch it with your parents. They will love it too. Trust me.

out.

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Blog: [link]

I was arranging some papers today and I ran into this box with some of my reports from school... All I can say is Wow! I made a small compilation from a single year...

Some of my favourite quotes are:

"fooling around with electrical equipment is certainly not advisable..."
"Disappointing"
"occasionally listens to advice..."
"Has not passed one single written exam since Christmas"
"I discovered he cannot see..."

and finally my favourite one - "He is a self-confessed danger to their integrity"

The full list:

[link]

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Blog: [link]

Today I woke up in my recently acquired lake side home, I have yet to properly furnish the interior and slept on a fairly uncomfortable bed roll for the night. After sitting in my garden (over looking the lake, guarded by a tall cliff.) I realize I have no food laying around the house, this would be an excellent opportunity to go and try out my new black bow.

I grab my gear and head out looking for some deer, who should be grazing at this time of the day. Wearing a stealthy, caped leather outfit I make my way down the stables, mumble "hello" to this slow ass, ugly bastard of a horse. I accidentally bought him from some shitty town stable. He's absolutely useless so unfortunately he's doomed to just stand there until he dies of old age.

I enter the woods and start sneaking around whilst getting my bow ready. Ready to plant a special crafted arrow straight in the face of the first deer I come across. And what do you know! There we go, three of the fuckers standing around, looking like a decent breakfast. I circle the unknowing animals, looking for the high ground first. I found the high ground but I'm insanely far away from them now.

Fuck it, I'm gonna give it a go. I shoot off an arrow from an absolutely ridiculous distance and whistle a nervous tune as the sharp motherfucker travels through the sky. SLAM! In the face! Good god! The other two deer witness this complete madness and look up shocked... There's no one around! The Gods themselves seem to have struck down their buddy from the goddamn sky!

As they're trying to figure it out the second deer gets one straight in the side and a second one in the back. He falls to the ground. The last remaining deer has finally seemed to catch on and starts sprinting like hell. Fuck!!! I scream! I throw away my bow and start chasing the bitch with a battle axe drawn. The weapon is heavy as fuck and it's slowing me down like crazy.

Luckily I know these lands better than the escaping deer and shortcut the shit out of it's getaway. The deer turns a corner and gets the battle axe through it's head. "Eat my axe you 4 legged whore!" I win Suckers!

I collect the meat of the deer and start making my way home. I have to take a bit of a detour and end up in unknown territory. Before I know it I run into an ancient ruin, standing there completely forgotten by the world. I wasn't prepared for this, my gear is for hunting not exploration.

I'm too curious and can't resist this new discovery. I enter through a small door on the side of the ruin. Inside it's cold and misty, kinda scary actually... What secret treasure will I unearth here! What treasure!? I sneak my way through the spider web infested corridors, hoping to avoid confrontation with the kind of beast I know lives down these type of places.

I carefully side step some amateur traps and end up in a giant hall. There are rays of lights coming through the cracks in the ceiling and it's far too quiet for my liking. Suddenly I see them. Vampires! It's a coven! They are guarding a large chest in the middle of the room... I want that chest and it's contents... badly. I ready my bow, selecting my first target carefully. BAMM;MM!!!! My dad storms into my room screaming: Are you gonna fucking sit here all day playing this bullshit or are you gonna do some fucking work man?!

Pfff, Save, Exit. Leave house, do some work. Wish real life was as entertaining as the 'The Elder Scrolls - Oblivion'. Where the fuck is the fun in a world without deadly creatures, hunting deer in the morning, finding long lost ruins to discover and loot. Making a 3 hour trip on your horse into the city for some arrows. Fighting in an arena as the grand champion... Booohooohoooo!

I'm just kidding, life is awesome. (...but not as awesome as my game)

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Blog: [link]