Oh, was it Watson? Sorry Watsy- uh, I mean, Johnny… *bad smile*
Soooo, yeah. I’ve just finished watching the third season of the amazing tv series Sherlock and it was… well, amazing! :D (Warning! This may contain spoilers so read it at your own risk! :P)
Now, I’m not writing this to review the series because firstly I love it so it would only be praises for it, and also because it would take so much time that I don’t have to courage to do it. No, what I am writing this for is because of my reaction to the last seconds of the last minutes of the last episode of the last season that recently was broadcasted recently. Of course I have to say that it was awesome but that maybe not everyone will love it as much as I did as it is much more centered on the characters of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson than in te previous seasons. The great mysteries and deductions, though still present, have left the spotlight a bit to focus on the characters’ personalities and interactions with each others. Frankly I loved it, the stag night and the wedding were so much fun to watch, the reunion between the two protagonists and the french waiter were just hilarious and the mind palace scenes were really exciting! Also Mycroft is more present and we get to see the two brothers’ parents and that is priceless! But it is true that it lacked a bit of suspense and mystery which might displease, or have displeased, some of you but I, for my part, really enjoyed it.
Now, what I want to talk about is not the series per se but the feelings that I had as the season came to an end. As you may or may not know the first episode picks up on Sherlock’s trick and the death of Moriarty and the last episode ends on Sherlock leaving by plane after killing Magnussen. Now, I caught on Magnussen’s trick as slowly as a snail, I guessed he had a supercomputer linked to his glasses at first, guess which switched to a chip in his brain when Sherlock tried them. But I only understood it was his mind when he agreed to take them into his vaults, so slow… Now that was quite a fun twist but I also immediately understood that he was going to have to die if they were to ‘delete’ the information about Mary. What I didn’t expect until he pulled the gun was for or dear detective to shoot him himself. Now that was surprising too but also a bit disappointing as it led to Sherlock’s arrest and departure by plane for a suicide mission in europe. I thought ‘ oh, and here’s season two’s finale all over again, he goes, dies (this time in europe) and comes back to life… great…’, I must admit I was disappointed indeed, but not for long. For as soon as the plane took of the scene jumped back to Mycroft and I knew something as up, but what? And my mind went all ‘mind-palace-experience-while-I-get-shot-to-decide-how-I-fall-to-increase-my-chances-of-survival’ and thoughts raced through my mind. Who was it? What was going on?
At that moment, the excitement of the whole season and the great episode had died down a bit, I wasn’t sure what to think. Was that it? Was he going to leave just like that and pfwit… over? No, of course not, the feeling that something cool had to happen to make us want to watch season three slowly crept inside me and I was proved right! :D
So Mycroft gets the call and a voice says something to him that we can’t hear. He then turns on the monitor and at that point I know he will have to cal Sherlock back. Now, I know that I’m not describing my reaction nor the emotions that I felt at that moment too well but… to put it clearly it was really quite some disappointment up to that point, but then as the phone rang the excitement came back. I must say, by the way, that when I’m excited over a series or a book I usually express it by shouting, dancing and other wide and wild gestures, which I was starting to do at that time as I was like ‘Oooooooh, this is going to be good’ while clapping in my hands. Yes, I do that from time to time, no worries, I’m just crazy is all… :P Even more when it’s a story I really enjoy (cf Sherlock, Doctor Who or Person of Interest).
Back to what I was saying. So, the phone rings and someone tells Mycroft to watch TV, he turns it on (yes, TV in a car… how great, I want one!) and almost immediately his face expresses utmost disbelief. That’s when it started to click in my head, and I believe in most of the other viewers’, ‘Oh. My. God. Something big is happening!’. Then it skips to Sherlock, he get’s Mycroft’s call, says a little joke about how his holidays were awesome and then back to Mycroft. At that point several theories had sprouted in my mind already. What evil could have forced Mycroft to call Sherlock back? Irene Adler gain? Nah, I don’t think so. Another ‘Moriarty’ or the man himself (which I had been praying for since the end of season 2). And my expectations were nt betrayed! The short but thrilling ‘did you miss me?’ had me speechless and soooo frustrated. I think that was the time I bugged my brother, who was sitting next to me at that point, the most during a tv show. I kept opening and closing my mouth like a fish, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. And then I started repeating over and over ‘no way, no way, no way, no way!’. And finally the after credit scene gave the final push to the nail and I was left there, speechless, frustrated, so excited and extremely happy at the same time. I don’t know if you have ever felt this thrill while reading or watching stories unfold like that but it’s truly awesome!
This is what make Sherlock, Doctor Who and all those series, books, mangas, audio sagas (yes, you may not know of its existence but audio, or mp3 sagas are truly awesome too [well, in french at least, as we seem to have a lot more that any other countries :P]) so cool and so addictive. Who didn’t cry on the evening of the Red Wedding? Who didn’t scream like a fangirl when we learned who Ace’s father was? Who didn’t shout out of frustration on the cliffhanger that left us The Mark of Athena? Hmm? Who dare to contradict me?! Now, I know I’ve basically been ranting all along in this post but please, allow me to finish. The feeling that the authors, directors and actors try to convey to the readers, viewers or listeners are true and they are so awesome, and that is what I try to do in my stories, to make you feel happy, sad, surprised or even frustrated while and after reading them, but it’s not always easy. Though the greatest authors I think are those that can achieve that!
To finish on Sherlock, I’d say that I had about the same reaction as when I watched the ending of season 6 of Doctor Who (which was awesome) and therefore, even if it’s changed a bit over time it’s still as awesome as series as ever! The only down point though was the fact that we didn’t see Irene Adler too much (I hope we’ll see her again, if not then I’ll be as depressed as when she died in the movie version… [I really hope she’s still alive though…]), only in the mind palace scene, but other than that it was great!
Yup, that’s all folks! You can now rest in peace, I finally leave you alone! (For the moment at least! :P)
Ps: What I love in Sherlock is how all the little cases and details always lead to a bigger picture. Like the episode with Irene getting Sherlocked where all the weird cases in the beginning led to that plane that was supposed to be bombed), that is also something that feels awesome to watch! Just as much as the end of the episode where Sherlock understands the password!
PPs: Oh, wand the Elementary version of Sherlock Holmes is not bad either, I thought it would just be a way to compete with Sherlock but it seems quite good too, though I have to watch some more to be absolutely sure! :P
I wrote that quite some time ago now, back when Sherlock season 3 came out…
So yeah, might be a little outdated but still mainly my thoughts on the show!
This is a little something I wrote one late night some time ago and that I just found again, just wanted to share it with you. Enjoy!
Mais parmi les chacals, les panthères, les lices,
Les singes, les scorpions, les vautours, les serpents,
Les monstres glapissants, hurlants, grognants, rampants,
Dans la ménagerie infâme de nos vices,
II en est un plus laid, plus méchant, plus immonde!
Quoiqu’il ne pousse ni grands gestes ni grands cris,
Il ferait volontiers de la terre un débris
Et dans un bâillement avalerait le monde;
C’est l’Ennui! L’oeil chargé d’un pleur involontaire,
II rêve d’échafauds en fumant son houka.
Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre délicat,
— Hypocrite lecteur, — mon semblable, — mon frère!
— Charles Baudelaire
It’s a little past three in the morning here in France but I am still up, listening to music and procrastinating in front of my computer, and it is during these hours, when the world is as silent as death, that I feel the most inspired. Why is that? Perhaps it is the night surrounding me or the feeling that I’m alone on this earth, I don’t know, but it’s a mix of melancholy and happiness, excitation and fatigue. It is a very strange state of mind that makes you think about things that you wouldn’t think about in usual situations. It has the same effect as the shower or going to the restroom: one develops a philosophical spirit in these situations for some strange and unknown reasons. I tend to think it’s because in these moments we feel freed, for a few minutes, of all the problems and thoughts trapped in our heads and we allow ourselves to think about other things, to see the world differently. Maybe it is also because we are bored during these moments and we try to feed our minds with complicated questions.
In these times I think about things like the fate of the universe, the reason of our existence and sometimes it frightens me as I try to imagine what the world will be after I have passed away, after I am not part of it anymore. It scares me to think that one day I will cease to exist and that I won’t even be conscious to know that I have ceased to exist. I fear boredom. Not boredom in the usual sense, Boredom, with a capital B, as Baudelaire describes it. Boredom that waits patiently for you, the Boredom that fills your life and that you try to forget by distracting your mind off of it. It scares me a lot. But as I think about it I can’t help but put things into perspective and tell myself that I still have a long life to live and many things to do.
I think about my stories, those I have finished (the one actually), those I’m writing and those I might write. I dream to become a great writer, to publish my stories for thousands of people to read, but I know I still have work to do. Sometime I even dream to become a poet, like Charles Baudelaire. I don’t know if you, dear reader, have heard of him, but to my mind he is one of the greatest french poets of all time. I can’t stop from admiring the quality and the complexity of his work, every time you read his poems there is new content to be found. Unfortunately he wasn’t recognized as such until long after his death and that angers me a bit because he had real talent. Sadly not every great artist, or great man in general, is recognized in his time.
Don’t ask me why I’m writing this, I have no idea, I just felt like rambling a little and telling people about Baudelaire a bit, to get you to know him. I also wanted to talk about how I feel linked to his writings sometimes, he is one of the rare poets that I enjoy reading, even if his writings are not the most joyous ones. And he also symbolizes the quality of work that I want to reach with my stories and that I hope to achieve one day. It’s time for me to go to sleep but I still don’t wish to go, I want to stay up and write all night, I want to work with this feeling as long as I can, but I know that it’s not possible and soon day will rise and I will lose this sensation. I can only hope that, as tomorrow is a new day, it will also be a new night.
Do I want to create?
That is not the question.
I know it, I want to create things, amazing things. I can feel the fire burning inside me, the familiar rush…
No, the question is : what do I want to create?
I don’t know…
People say I can make anything I want, but is it really true?
So yesterday I learned David Bowie died two days ago.
I don’t really know what to say about this except that he had my respect despite me not knowing much about him. I often heard he was a great musical artist, great singer, great musician and, above all, a great creator, ahead of his time most of the time. Visionary as some might say. I can’t vouch for that as, to me, David Bowie was, or should I say still it to me, the strange, older, older equivalent to Marilyn Manson from the 70s and 80s in terms of style. The singer of Space Oddity, the only song I believe I really know of him (which I sort of rediscovered in Gravity). And the great Nikola Tesla from the movie The Prestige (one of my favorite movies of all time if not the favorite).
Davie bowie as Nikola Tesla in the movie The Prestige
I don’t really know him much more than that, I don’t have much idea about whatever else he did, but strangely he is still a great artist in my mind. Perhaps it is because of his appearance in that movie or the fact that I love his song since I saw Gravity (not just because of the movie, though it played a great part in that), but also because it’s a great song in itself. Or perhaps it is because I’ve unconsciously realized how great he was. I don’t really know. He was great, I just feel I don’t have the right or the authority to say this myself. I’m not a fan but I enjoy what he did a lot. Apparently he was fighting against a cancer without ever saying he was sick publicly, that’s why the news of his death came as a shock to me, and perhaps to everybody else. I wasn’t ‘ready’ for him to leave yet.
I didn’t know him well, not personally of course, but not even as a music fan, but I feel very sad about his departure. Perhaps he had a lot of things he still wanted to do… I know his new album debuted on his birthday, two days before his death, so maybe he was ready to go… I don’t know, all I can hope is that he didn’t have too much regrets leaving so soon and that he knew how much of an impact he has made in the world with his music (and everything else he did). I am sad to see him go, even if I didn’t follow him or his artist career a lot, I was always somewhat expectant to see news about him and sort of excited or happy when I heard talk about his music.
But what I am the saddest about is that I realized that I had almost missed the great homage the internet (and more precisely the users on Twitter) had given him earlier this week. I just realized that I had seen a few drawings, images or pictures of the night sky and stars with the words “The Stars Look Very Different Today” without understanding the reference. It somehow clicked when I saw a drawing of Charlie Brown and Snoopy looking at the night sky and a bubble of text with this small sentence in it, I suddenly thought about David Bowie and his Space Oddity. Not that I remembered it being part of the lyrics of his song but I somehow guessed it had a link. A quick research gave me a positive answer but also a sense of shame. How could I claim to like an artist and not even pick up such an obvious reference?
In the end I did understand, but it took me a few pictures of the sky from NASA, World of Warcraft and drawings of a few artists with these words to realize it was an homage to a great artist who had recently departed. That is why I say this is not an homage and I am not worthy (to use a powerful word) of paying one to him, I don’t know him enough, I can’t appreciate his work to its true value and I haven’t been immersed sufficiently in his universe to be able to do that. So, instead, I will simply say thank you to him for all he did, or at least the little he did that I know of, and for what it has brought/given me. It wasn’t a lot but it was sufficient to have a great impact on me. So, yeah, thank you mister Bowie. I hope the stars will keep shining for you and that someday I will finally learn to appreciate your work to its real value, or at least come to understand it a little better.
Space Oddity in the movie Gravity
A beautiful cascade descending endlessly from gorgeous halos,
Infinite jewels knitted lightly, moments never over,
Paradise quest resting solely, totally, upon very weak xistence;
So yeah, a little experiment of mine, not perfect but that little idea popped into my head this morning and I found myself more inspired than I would’ve imagined. Hope you enjoyed it!
Not those of gold
Not those of old
Neither the kings
Nor the younglings
None of the sold
None of the bold
Not one of those
Who ever rose
Not those who told
Not those who mold
For when the chime
Is upon time
They will be cold
And they will fold
But who will then?
The son of men.
I couldn’t live my life without music, this is an absolute truth. I don’t simply like music or enjoy it, no, it’s something much deeper than that. Music is a bit like the weather to me, as strange as it may seem it influences my emotions and my attitude much more than most other aspects of my life. When the sun is up and the sky is clear I feel extremely happy and motivated to do whatever I want to do, whereas when it’s raining or cloudy I almost automatically feel depressed or unmotivated/lazy.
The difference between night and day also impacts my writing, I’m a lot more inspired to write during the early mornings or the late evenings, when the sun is either rising, setting or completely down, like during the night. I don’t know why but it seems to stimulate my mind and my imagination. That can be a problem from time to time as I finally get inspired to write when I am completely exhausted… (Yep, that’s annoying when it happens.)
Well music also plays an equally important role in my life. With music I feel happy, emotional, inspired, I feel alive and free somehow. I don’t know why or how but some songs just have this deep effect on me, they touch something deep inside my mind and they give me strength, imagination and love. I just realized that I had already made a post about this subject a few weeks back, you can find it here : Music is love, music is life, so I wont expand too much on this subject since I believe I’ve already said a lot back then.
I will simply say this : today the song that makes me feel alive and free is Louder, Harder, Better by Galantis, that I just found yesterday on SuicideSheep’s Youtube channel, it’s really an awesome piece of sounds. I don’t know why but it resonates within me and it make me smile. In these sort of situations the only thing I can hope for is to one day be able to make people feel and smile with my writing, just as this song makes me feel and smile!
I’m walking talking… I’m walking talking…
I really do have mood swings depending on the weather, it’s really impressive. When I wake up in the morning and the sky is blue I’m all energetic and all but when it’s raining or just cloudy I feel a bit depressed and a lot more slacky… (As in I want to slack more)
And this change happened a few times today as the sky went from being clear blue to covered in clouds before going back to blue and finally settling itself between the two. I was really motivated this morning then by noon, when the weather started to change I got a bit more lazy, though that might have been my hunger speaking. Then I got back my motivation a bit when I saw the sky clear up in the afternoon. It’s really weird. I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t plan to live in a sunny country in the future, in order to be motivated almost all the time (’cause yeah, wherever you go there will always be bad weather). Might work. But where should I go? Can’t be too hot or too humid either or I’ll die… damn this is difficult…
So, apart from that I’m posting this instance of the Quotidian after number 48, which is completely logical… #NotAtALL
Plus I really don’t have anything to say anymore tonight so I think that instead trying to tell you useless things or trying to add words after others just to make a sentence that can be understood just for the sake of having more words in this post in completely useless. Of course I could do that without end, I’m an expert in that domain and I have already written pages of useless words in the past. But I really don’t want to do that tonight, it would waste both my time and yours. So! Instead I will immediately resume my writing of the Stanley chapters that I was supposed to publish yesterday and today so that you can enjoy them.
See you later and have a nice read!
Ps: I’m also going to try to pass by the blogs of random people to see what is new out there, it’s been some time (again!) that I haven’t done that.
He opened his eyes slowly. The same continuous shaking of the train as it ran on the tracks that had been rocking him to sleep had now woken him up. He looked around, there weren’t many passengers left in his car, only an old couple of women, a single father with his child and another man who was reading the newspaper and seemed to be alone. Suddenly, as he was lying back on the seat, he saw the momentary flash of red that had become so familiar lately disappear from the corner of his eye into the next wagon.
He rose up and started running instantly, he had done the exact same movements so many times that it had become almost like a reflex for him. He side-stepped as the father tried catch his falling child and jumped over one of the old women as she stretched out her arm to grab one of the newspapers on the opposite table and barely made it through the sliding door that shut behind him. He could still hear the angry comments that the old couple made about him but he didn’t pay attention as he tried to focus on his task, this time he would make it!
He noticed the piece of red cloth as it disappeared inside one of the compartments and cursed. Damn it, so fast! He thought, already trying to catch his breath. But this time he knew what to do though and he wouldn’t let his prey escape. He ran past the first two doors and rushed through the third as it suddenly opened. He shouted a quick apology to the family who was calmly sitting in it, the children playing a quiet game of cards as their parents were each reading a book. As he got out on the other side he saw the back of a red coat and the tip of a hat of the same color disappear.
Good, he was getting closer! He smiled and sprinted through the corridor, not even paying attention to the scenery passing by at impressive speeds out the large windows. By now he wasn’t even fazed by the rocking and the shaking of the train as it rushed on its tracks, he had become accustomed to its rhythm and the eventual disturbances it could cause. He turned left, following his memory, and then immediately right. This time he saw her disappear through the door leading to the train’s third or fourth wagon, she was running as fast as she could, holding her hat on her head with one of her thin hands, her long red coat flapping behind her.
She was wearing heel, high and black, though not quite as thin as stilettos, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by her speed considering that. A long curl of blond hair trailed behind her before disappearing. Oh not you don’t! He thought. Not again!
“Sir, would you please hold that?!” He exclaimed as a middle-aged man passed through the sliding door.
“Thank you!” He shouted as he jumped through the opening under the stranger’s surprised look.
He knew she had gone right but as he turned towards the corridor on the left he suddenly stopped and closed his eyes, counting to two before resuming his race against time. He already felt the familiar tug inside his chest, he would be pulled back once more if he didn’t make it in time. Stopping now might not have seemed the wisest choice as he was already well behind, but an innumerable number of tries and fails had proved otherwise.
Running at full speed and straight ahead was the only thing he had found that helped overcome the urge to stop as so many passengers, children and adults alike, suddenly stepped out of their compartment to witness the majesty of the High Falls, said the be the largest waterfalls in the world, and the beautiful light the sun shined on it at that time of the day. He ran past them, forcing the passengers to get ont he side, this was the only way he had found he could get past this spot without stopping out of fear of hurting someone.
Finally he heard the familiar whistle of the train resound throughout all the wagons. Fifteen. He accelerated and as he counted his sixty-seventh step he opened his eyes and veered to the right, catching the closing door to the last wagon filled with passengers as it closed behind the blonde woman dressed in red. She had already crossed half of the distance to the end of the wagon and anyone that had gotten this far would’ve thought she might make it before he even took a step, but luck, or more truthfully knowledge, should prove otherwise.
He kept running but jumped on the first table to his right, not even stopping to apologize to the other passengers, he didn’t have time for it anymore. He jumped from table to table, careful not to trip but running as fast as he could. Finally he heard the sound of shattered glass and smiled. Yes, again! He jumped to the tables on the left and kept running as he saw the young woman get back up and resume running after tripping in one of the waiters that was carrying a tray full of glasses of champagne.
He was catching up to her. Nine, eight... He jumped down from the table he was stepping over the waiter who was trying to clean up his mess and forced his legs to move faster as he crossed the last straight line that was getting him closer and closer to the girl in red. It was all over if she pressed the button but he was ready, he was going to stop her! He ran as fast as he could, feeling that the last few meters lasted an eternity. He swore the whole wagon moved in slow motion for a second there.
Then, as he was about to pass out from the effort he gave one last impulsion and caught her hand, pulling her with him to the right, away from the dreadful round object. He heard her gasp slightly at the contact and saw her hang on to her hat as she spun around and stopped her course with her back hitting the wall. He almost crashed into her and only managed to stop in time by throwing his arms straight in front on him, on each side of her head, and feeling like he was breaking every bone in his body.
Finally he looked up at the pretty little rabbit he had been chasing and almost stopped breathing, or rather panting, as their eyes met. She was still holding on to her hat for dear life and her bright blue eyes were wide and her golden locks were only a bit dishevelled, fact which took him slightly aback after such a pursuit. Three.
“Gotcha!” He whispered with a smile as he slowly got closer to her.
Not breaking contact with her eyes her leaned in, ever slowly, and as his lips closed up on hers he could feel her breath his face. It was hot and fresh at the same time, even if it was against his will he couldn’t help but look at her gorgeous mouth. She bit her luscious lips as she understood what he was about to do and sucked in a sharp intake of air before letting out what he thought was a cute little squeak. Then, as he was about to kiss her he saw the red lines he so desired to touch move and a smile spread on her face.
“Game over…” He read the words on her lips more than he heard them and as soon as she said that he felt his chest being pulled apart and his consciousness fade away once more.
“Damn it!” He barely managed to articulate as he looked back up to her eyes.
He saw her wink at him and everything went black. He felt the continuous shaking of the train once more and opened his eyes to look around, there weren’t many passengers left in his car. Wait, had she just winked at him? Oh no you don’t, not this time! He thought as he shot up, the red flash disappearing from his view on the other side of the wagon, and started running as fast as he could once again.
So, yeah, here is Train, a short story I thought up a few days ago. I didn’t have any idea for the title so I went for the most simple option… :P
I don’t know what to think of it yet, we’ll see in the next few days but I hope you enjoyed reading it!