Dear Carla

Whenever I listen to Wagner, it makes me want to invade Poland.

Woody Allen

Firstly – so sorry this letter is a bit late. I was meaning to write it yesterday, after I watched this documentary about adoption in the USA but then I got a phonecall from my friend and went out. So I didn’t finish the documentary or this letter. Haha. I literally just got home though from going out so I hope you appreciate that this is the first thing I’m doing!

Secondly, I’m so so sorry about your scoliosis getting worse Carla. I’d love to say I can sympathise, but honestly I can’t because I’ve never had anything like that. What I can do is empathise and tell you that though the surgery will be a nasty pain in the arse, because you’ll lose the things you love for a while, in comparison to how amazing you’ll feel after recovering from the surgery. In the long run, it’ll be so worth it. Six months with no sports? Piddling in comparison to the rest of your life. (Also, let’s remember Lance Armstrong here). Do you have any idea when your surgery will be yet? Or is it undecided?

I kind of wish for your sake you had free healthcare (like we do).

ANYWAY, I don’t think two depressing letters in a row would be very fun, and it certainly wouldn’t cheer you up at ALL. So, I’ll try and be as chipper as possible.

So what’s on my mind? Firstly I’ve finally got my suit sorted for next year at school. Yes, you read right – suit. So no more uniform, but I get to choose a suit. Great. You can see the suit if you make it a challenge in a letter. Otherwise there’s no way. My jacket doesn’t arrive till Thursday though, so be patient if you do decide to do that.

I’m also pretty damn tired. I woke up with the light today, so at like sixish. And after a late bedtime, I feel pretty rough. Also, I’m meant to be going to the cinema today, but I have NO idea what to see. WHAT DO I SEE? I want to see Inglorious Basterds but it’s an 18. I didn’t even consider the rating before now. Argh.

Okay, I didn’t realise (500) Days of Summer was out. I’m seeing it. So bad.

Zooey and Levitt are a good match.

Also, 3OH!3’s new single Starstrukk is terrible. But this remix isn’t. Somehow, just somehow, adding one of the most irritating women on the planet to a song managed to make it less irritating.

Oh and the obsession with Florence + the Machine continues. I want to dye my hair red now because I think it’s a gorgeous colour. And it looks nice with pale skin. Vampish.

I’m going to let you off a challenge today and I’ll let you off missing the one from two days ago, because I understand you’re pre-ocuppied right now. I did have a good challenge to give you though. Inspired by you.

Lots of love,

Your wisdom teeth are KILLING him friend,

Ben.

P.S. Please read my last letter again and respond to one of my questions posed to you RE: photo challenges. I think it would be fun.

]]> http://lettersfromacrossthepond.wordpress.com/2009/09/02/263/feed/ 2 Ben and Carla http://lettersfromacrossthepond.wordpress.com/2009/08/28/261/ http://lettersfromacrossthepond.wordpress.com/2009/08/28/261/#comments Fri, 28 Aug 2009 14:44:50 +0000 Ben and Carla http://lettersfromacrossthepond.wordpress.com/?p=683 ]]>

Dear Carla,

Oh my god! You have a pedo-meter!

Me – misreading pedometer.

Firstly, I GOT MY GCSE RESULTS.

Are you ready?

1. Maths – A*
2. French – A*
3. Biology – A*
4. Chemistry – A*
5. Physics – A*
6. Latin – A*
7. History – A*
8. Art -A*
9. English Language – A*
10. English Literature – A

I am really happy with my results. Like over the moon. HOWEVER, I am seriously pissed off about my English Lit grade for two reasons:

1. I was predicted an A* for it, and got an A* in it for the mock.
2. EVERYONE, it seems was really harshly marked in Eng Lit this year. One of my friends, also called Ben, got an A* prediction and an A* in the mocks and went down to a C in the real thing, and he worked equally hard if not more so.

Because of my pissed-offness, I emailed the deputy head of the school to ask if I could find out what my actual mark was for English, because I wanted to get it remarked (which you can do for a tiny price, and if your grade gets changed you get it done for free because obviously they’ve made a mistake). She replied saying that the English department and the school were concerned about the English Lit marks. She put it this way:  “With regards to the English Literature marks there seemed to be some anomolous grades”. She then said the school were requesting a remark of FIFTEEN scripts that they judged to be of better standard than they were marked as, AND if they were indeed right about that fact then EVERY single English Lit paper in the SCHOOL would have to be remarked as there clearly must have been some sort of mistake.

So that made me feel tons better.

I got a haircut today too. It feels good and much lighter </yawn>.

Okay, now my reviews of your songs:

I Gotta Feeling – Black Eyed Peas: First, let me get this straight – I used to adore the Black Eyed Peas. When Boom Boom Pow came out, however, my heart sort of shrivelled and fell into the pit of my stomach. After a while the song grew on me, but still – I miss the days of Where Is The Love and Shut Up. Now let me get something else straight – I don’t hate this song like I hate other songs (see: Waking Up In Vegas ala Katy Perry and Battlefield ala Jordin Sparks (I don’t know why I hate that song, I just do)) but I think it’s so infantile it makes me cringe. I like the tune, a lot but just the thought of a group of mid-thirty year olds singing about partying kills me inside. They also lose points for trying to be kitch by saying Masel Tov and L’chaim.  If will.i.am wants to call me up to suggest some more intelligent lyrics, I am more than happy to help him. May I suggest – I’m Reading A Book or I’m Raising My Kids as some more age-appropriate alternatives?

Vanilla Twilight – Owl City: I really like the song! I feel bad for liking it (I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because it’s reminiscent of many other bands I shouldn’t like). Also the word “twilight” when not in association with vampires is my favourite word in the english language for numerous reasons. I like when the song kicks in right at the end, too. It gives the song the “the listen again having just stopped it” factor. My one crit – I really dislike when bands/singers use electronic soundboards instead of real instruments, and as the song fades out at the end it becomes REALLY noticeable they have. Unreal instruments just remind me of elevator music.

Kids – MGMT: I love MGMT. What more can I say? They are heavily overplayed here though (along with Paper Planes by M.I.A). I prefer Electric Feel to both Kids and Time To Pretend, however. The album’s great though. Good choice, Carla. Haha.

Speaking of Electric Feel, check out this cover of it by Katy Perry on Radio 1 Live Lounge (aka the best thing ever). It’s actually pretty enjoyable, and the only example of her singing decently live.

Oh, I have a question: I know you’re doing the 365 day challenge on flickr – so do you want to start up photo challenges again, to help inspire you every other day (in time with your letters) with photos? I won’t be offended in the slightest if you say no, haha.

Now for your challenge… I can’t think of anything in the slightest.

Shoot.

Um…

UrbanDictionary your name and tell me what you come up with. (I know it’s boring. Deal w’it.)

Lots of love,

Your less hairy (ew) friend,

Ben.

Dear Carla,

And in the spring, I’ll shed my skin and it goes away with the changing winds. The waters turn, from blue to red, as towards the skyline I foray.

- Florence + the Machine – Rabbit Heart.

It is so good to be back.

For a while back then, I was getting tired of having to write one of these every other day, and sooner or later that will probably happen again, as such is the nature of having to write blog entries. BUT, now we’re back and it’s a new school year I’m feeling the LFATP loving.

So what have I been up to since March? God that’s a LONG time ago.

I did my GCSEs, and the results come out tomorrow. I can’t express how nervous I am, I don’t even want to talk about it. ARGH.

I went away with my friends to various places in the English countryside.

I went to France with my family.

I read.

I relaxed.

Oh, and I did some work experience. I worked with graphic designers for a week, and then did seven days at a urology department testing urine and learning all about lab work.

So a pretty much normal summer and no WAY as eventful as yours was Carla.

Okay, so now LFATP is back, I guess challenges have to be back as well Carla. BUT this challenge is going to be supercool (I hope):

Everyone, no matter who they are has some sort of summer playlist. Because summer is about letting go of everything and having a great time and music is a reflection of that feeling. SO, your challenge is two tiered. Firstly, I’m going to write down my THREE SONG (This is the limit! So choose wisely!) playlist and youre going to have to listen to it and REVIEW it in your next post. (I’ll post youtube links to the songs, to make it easy for you). AND THEN you have to make your own three song playlist and MY challenge will be to listen to it and review it in my FRIDAY letter. I’m REALLY looking forward to what you come up with. However, I warn you – I hate Lady Gaga so if you put one of her songs in there, I may have to give that track a negative review.

So here’s my playlist:

1. Florence + The Machine – Howl: I’m not going to say much about this band (Florence Welch and her band) other than that I love them so so so much and am so happy for all their sucess in the UK so far (a number 2 album and a top 15 hit). If I had a physical copy of the album Lungs it would be spun dry, and would be scratched and worn all over. I love them. (Also I have a connection to her via family friends, in that six degrees of seperation sense – though its only two degrees of seperation).
2. Throw Me The Statue – Lolita: A song named after (and very loosely based) on my favourite book. It’s super upbeat, super jolly and really summery. Note the epic use of a xylophone. LOVE IT! I don’t know that much about the band, so that’s the reason for the short blurb.
3. Regina Spektor – Sailor Song: Okay, I gotta admit – no list of mine would be complete without some Regina. And this song is a little known, awesome one about none other than Gilligan’s Island. If I’m going to be honest here, I’d be really surprised if you suddenly listened to this and LOVED it, because Regina’s earlier stuff is really difficult to like first spin, but I promise it will grow on you. I would have given you some softer Regina like Fidelity or Poor Little Rich Boy but then I’d be lying to say it was part of my summer playlist because basically all I listened to this summer were songs from Regina’s first two albums (11:11 and Songs) and Florence + The Machine. (P.S. the only version I cand find of this song is a LIVE in Studio version, but it’s just as brill)

Anxiously awaiting your list.

Lots and lots and lots of love (I missed you!),

Your nervous for results friend,

Ben.

Dear Carla,

My heartbeat beats me senslessly, why’s everything gotta be so intense with me?

- Hook Up

When I say I’m writing this from my sickbed, I’m not exaggerating. I’m sick a-freaking-gain. I think it’s probably because after the play and the exchange and all that hard work, my body is tired so I’m just weak right now. It’s actually a real thing to get sick a week or two weeks after a play. Teachers get it during the first week of the summer holidays. A break after too much work can be a bad thing.

As of now, my symptoms are: headache behind eyes, dry mouth, runny nose, pounding head and droopy eyes.

I don’t want to have a letter where I talk about being ill the whole time, BUT, I thought I’d mention that today was the WORST. I went into school, feeling like crap, and I literally was falling asleep in every lesson. In Biology, there was no way I was going to be able to stay awake, so I ended up falling asleep and falling off my chair.

To top all this off, one of my teachers is being incredibly unreasonable. Here is what happened (literally chronological order):

Last week, during the French exchange week, I had to take my exchange to a lesson to give a presentation. After I did that, I hurried back to physics. I came in, apologised and sat down. I looked to the left, to see what was going on as there was quite a noise coming from the back row. Suddenly the teacher yells at me as if I had been yelling at the top of my lungs to shut up and get my books out. I don’t make a comment about it, I suck up the ridiculous accusation and get my books out.

Five minutes pass, I am talking in a low whisper to my friend [this is where my narration becomes unreliable. I know for a fact I was talking. It was at a low level, but I was talking. Whether it was about the lesson or something else, I don't know. I think it was about music, actually]. Anyway, the teacher comes up to me, and yells at me to get out. He picks up my books and puts them outside and shuts the door.

I am now sitting outside the door. The doors in the science building have glass panels in the door. I am sitting outside on a bin at this point. People in the class, thinking they are hysterically funny, start yelling “STOP MAKING FACES BEN! STOP SWEARING BEN etc. etc.” My teacher, thinking I actually was being stupid, sends me further away into the physics office.

I sit there for a minute. A physics assistant comes in, and on a power trip sends me out of the office. He makes me sit at the end of the corridor for the rest of the lesson.

I didn’t mention this incident again. I apologised to my teacher (for doing nothing) and he made no fuss.

Yesterday, a slip came in the post reading:

“NOTICE OF DETENTION:

Ben was disrupting the class, inattentive and didn’t have his books again. I sent him out to do the work outside of the classroom.

KMP (the teacher’s initials).”

Compare the reasons for detention with my story. I had my books (and have never failed to bring my books before, so why the word “again” was used, I don’t know). I was not disrupting the class – maybe at most I was distracting my friend, but that was it. I was also not inattentive – I looked to the left. ONCE. And, he didn’t send me out to do work, he just sent me out. Period.

Now, let me explain the punishment system in the school:

1. WARNING - this is an email or note written to a housemaster (a teacher in charge of your house) for first time offenses that appear out of character, or are minor.
2. OMEGA – this is a punishment of forty five minutes to an hour after school for breaking the school code of conduct. Repeat offenses of minor offenses garner omegas (such as failure to do two homeworks).
3. DETENTION – this is a more serious punishment of an hour and a half for severe breaking of the school rules. This includes – insolence, lying, being out of bounds, missing lessons etc. Three detentions will warrant a review of the student.
4. SATURDAY – A two hour detention served on Saturday morning. This is for major breaking of school rules, or an accumulation of omegas and detentions
5. SUSPENSION
6. EXPULSION

I am not a bad student. I am a good student. I have never had an omega or a detention or ANY punishment before (which is why I am making such a big deal of this). I’ve already had one problem with this whole situation – which is I think I was unfairly sent out. I now have TWO further complaints:

1. Being sent out of a lesson should be punishment enough. Why be punished for being punished? Plus, the lack of warning of any sort of punishment is ridiculous.
2. Fair enough, if he really thinks I did something wrong – I would accept a punishment of some sort. HOWEVER, what I did does NOT warrant a detention. At most it warrants an Omega. The guidelines for punishments I wrote above were more or less copied directly from the school book. I did not severely break school rules, and it was a first time offense. A warning would suffice, me thinks.

Anyway, I must return to bed and bath.

Lots of love,

Your sicky wicky licky friend,

Ben.

P.S. DICTIONARY WORD OF THE DAY:

wizard: - adj. whizz-ard - Archaic language spawning from the 1940s/1950s, meaning cool or exciting. e.g. Ben thinks “wizard” is a wizard word and more words like the latter should be used. He, therefore, is trying to make these wizard words come back into popular use. His efforts are helped by a wizard character named Pandora in a wizard show called Skins. She, the character, commonly uses such words in her day-to-day language.

Have a wizard day!

Dear Carla,

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.

- Lolita

Okay, SO MUCH to talk about this letter.

First things first, if you can’t tell from the quote – I’m reading Lolita, which is amazing and beautifully poetic. It’s ridiculously easy to misunderstand though, so it helps to read it slowly.

Secondly, I must apologise for my absence. I haven’t even been in contact with you Carla! Basically, after the French play last week, my french exchange arrived and I had to entertain her all week. Now, let me do a couple of bullet points about the experience with Cléo. (That was, obviously, her name. Hehe):

• At first, I liked her.
• Then, I disliked her because she wanted to go out (understandably) one night till 12 o’ clock (not understandably) when I wanted to do homework (understandably). And she was very rude when my parents finally agreed to pick her up and drop her off.
• I then disliked her further when for the following two days she was icy silent towards me and just barely spoke.
• She spoke brilliant English by the way.
• Then, on the last night (Thursday) we went to Oxford street so they could shop, and on the way back I went with my friend Max and his exchange and Cléo was so much nicer then it was ridiculous, and I realized she just found it difficult to speak conversational English.
• And she gave me a wicked cool book with photos of Paris in it, and it was spectacular.
• So I give the exchange a 6.5/10 (It is REVIEW MONDAY after all)

Speaking of REVIEW MONDAY:

I saw a film this weekend called The Class. (Or Entre Les Murs, en francais). I didn’t see it with my exchange (funnily enough) I saw it with my sister, because I have to do my oral presentation on it.

In a word, it was spectacular and amazingly intelligent.

It’s about a teacher in Paris who has a very very very difficult class. It’s based on a book by a teacher about his class. Funilly enough some of the students that the book is about, and in fact the teacher himself are in the film. It’s NOT a documentary though. Think Lifetime movie starring Lindsay Lohan as herself. But in French. And fascinating.

Like seriously, it was such a brilliant film. There was no soundtrack. No clever cuts. No powerful acting. It was just real life. The actors (and students) just acted as normal. They chattered and laughed and it was seriously amazing.

There were points when it dragged a little. Towards the end I just didn’t like a certain part of the story, as I thought it was slightly superfluous, but it was just that bit that I didn’t like.

So yeah, it was mesmerising. Great stuff.

***** Five Stars

(Also, you must remember to do your challenge tomorrow!)

OKAY, next I wanted to ask you a sort of question and have a discussion. I am saying all of this with a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of pepper because it might sound ridiculous.

I’ll prep you first (please don’t judge):

Whenever I go out now, it is literally impossible for me to be somewhere where there isn’t the following: drink, cigarettes and (sometimes) drugs. I do none of the above. Let me clarify. The taste of alcohol baffles me. Cigarettes perplex me and drugs are just ridiculous.  But if I go to parties, it is literally inevitable that they will be there. Most people would think that a party without the trio would be “dry”. (Urban dictionary: Very boring. That history lesson was bare dry.) It’s just a sad sad fact, but stuff like this happens. In fact (this is the thing I asked you to remind me about): I was at a party a couple of weeks ago, and a load of uninvited guests who go to my school turned up on coke and so everyone had to be kicked out. Yes, I know – COCAINE. And it’s not the first time. One of my friends had a house party once, and a boy I know started doing coke of the kitchen table. I steered well away.

Every single “group” in the school – no matter how unpopular – experiences or is near or has to have the “trio”. So, so so sad.

My question is: is it like this in America? I don’t know why it is like this here, and if it isn’t like that there how do you/others avoid it?

Alright, sorry I’m so dull.

Lots of love,

Your party (not) friend,

Ben.

Dear  Carla,

First video letter of the new season of LFATP.

Right, I need to sleep now.

Lots of love,

Your VLOG friend,

Ben.

P.S. Why is the video so yellow? Weird.

Hello inhabitants of the interwebs.  Today is the First of March, 2009.  What’s so special about today?

IT IS THE BIRTHDAY OF

LETTERS FROM ACROSS THE POND.

Take a moment to sit back and grasp this subject.  It may take a couple of minutes.  I realize this is difficult to comprehend, but don’t worry, we’ll wait for you.

Are you ready now?  No?  Well, we’re going to start without you.  See if you can catch up.

ALRIGHT.  As you may have noticed, today marks the day that LFATP was born.  Back in the days where Ben and Carla struggled to fill 100 words, rather than the 500 they’re pouring out per letter.  Ben’s first letter was a mere three paragraphs about Isralian cookies and peppiness while Carla–even from Day 1, she was a big chatterbox–seemed to go on and on and on about how she wanted to hang herself with a straw at a school dance.

In the next posts, Ben starts to write more and, to the readers horror, so does Carla.  Funny coincidence: last year at this time Ben was talking about how he loved being sick, while just recently Ben posted his letter on how he hates being sick.  Interesting, eh?

BACK TO THE PRESENT.  What does the new year in LFATP bring?

Well, as you can tell, a new theme!  Pages are being overhauled and reconstructed and new ideas are bubbling out of Ben and Carla every second!  Also, sticking with their one letter a day schedule, look forward to seeing this on certain days of the week!

MONDAY: Review of a movie, book, and any other weekend activity.
TUESDAY: Do the challenge assigned to you!  Can be anything.
WEDNESDAY: Normal letter.
THURSDAY: Normal letter plus dictionary word.
FRIDAY: Vlog!  Challenge for Tuesday will be announced.

Along with this new schedule, we really want to thank our readers.  As a crafty scheme to make the readers comment more, challenges will now be assigned by YOU.  To assign a challenge, just comment on any random letter with WHAT the challenge is, WHO it’s for (you can choose Ben AND Carla if you’d like) and who it’s FROM.   We want YOU, the readers, to be more involved with LFATP!

Letters from Across the Pond started because Ben and Carla could rarely talk to each other because of time zones.  Though they now have other means of communication and talk a lot more, this site is still going.  Hopefully there will be many more birthdays to come.

Love,
Ben and Carla

Dear Carla,

He has a gold of heart! Wait… a heart of gold!

- Penelope Cruz backstage at the 2009 Oscars.

Okay, I like “Just Dance” as much as the next person. It’s a fun song! But I am fed up of hearing it on the bloody radio every single second of the day. Way to kill a song! I don’t know what it is about the song, but after the eightieth listen it tires a little.

That is my photo challenge picture for today. Very exciting, yes? One would almost say it is so abstract that it’s not even a portrait!

Your challenge is going to be a slightly self-brooding sort of challenge. You have to respond to my photo with your own! Imagine that photo up there is a question. What is your answer?

I am working on your package Carla. I need to buy a box for handle with care delivery. But it is nearly on its way! I think I shall post it tomorrow or the day after, depending on various factors. It’s full of very very very very random stuff. A quick snippet reveals that you are going to get (amongst other things): a heart shaped notebook and a tape measure.

I have been ill for the last two days. Not life threateningly so, but the sort of ill that makes me feel bad about myself. As soon as I hit 500 on this thing, I’m zooming under the bedcovers again. I keep feeling absolutely exhausted for no particular reason – it’s very very peculiar.

On March 10th the ol’ Kelly C’s album comes out. And you must must MUST buy it. There is one song on there (in particular – you will love them ALL) that I know you will listen to on repeat for about fifty years. It’s called Whyyawannabringmedown. It’s on the You Choob right now, if you can be bothered to look for it – and it blooming spectacular. She has such killer vocals on it. CRAZINESS.

Oh my god so many words and not enough time! AH I HAVE TO GO.

I’m glad you had a lovely birthday. Your presents sound wicked cool.

Okay now for take up space time! Zing zebra cody zack diablo devil prada leapord ann curry anish kapoor bean silver wear cupboard lionskin cheetah plains savannah rhianna chris brown milk chunky funky wizard wand spell harry potter weirdo.

Okay that did not help. It’s telling me I have 100 words to go. UM. 100 word story time:

She glanced upwards at the tall man.

“And you are telling me,” she breathed heavily, “that my father was my uncle, and that you are my father?”

He nodded and knelt down to her head height.

“Yes, and I have loved you for so long.”

He took her hands, his eyes shining with irridescent tears. She pulled away.

“You were absent too long, father.”

Waves of sorrow splashed onto her dress as he wept.

“Eleanor…” he protested.

“No!” Her voice was commanding, and wicked. “The shadows came out to play when you were gone, father.”

Lots of love,

Your weird story friend,

Ben.

Dear Carla,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU

HAPPY BIRTDAY TO YOU

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CARLA

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

So, I heard:

IT’S YOUR FUNKING BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There are SIXTEEN exclamation marks there, you can count.

But seriously

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CARLA!

I’ve known you for about two years, and it’s safe to say that you’ve been my lucky charm. I don’t know why (I know this is cheezy), but ever since I actually spoke to you things have been better off for me. I’ve felt more confident, and I’ve had a place to get things off my chest (creatively/ventingly). It might not have been JUST you at first (perhaps the dA comunity and various podcasts played a part) but now I truly feel you are one of my best friends. With you, I get to show every side of myself that I don’t get to show my friends.

You have seen my art.

Not many of my friends have.

I have ranted with you.

I haven’t with many of my friends.

I’ve started a website with you.

I haven’t with any of my friends.

There’s something about you, Carla, that totally allows people to be who they are. For about 1% of people, that’s a bad thing – because you get to see just how douchey they are – but you make the other 99% of truly nice people feel so comfortable!

In other words, you are absolutely the most epic person I know.

A three verse haiku about Carla:

Charming, artistic,

Hysterical, outspoken,

Incredible: you.

Sixteen years, she feels,

Yet wisdom beyond her years,

She lends to others.

Stoic, sensitive,

She dwells in all emotions,

For better, for worse:

Carla.

You can put it in your pocket and keep that. You have the copyright (hehe.)

Seriously, you deserve the most incredible birthday.

I’ll help make this one the year to remember, if you stay “Carla”.

In fact, I’m going to go old school LFATP and do a word of the day (prepare for XTRA CHEESE):

Carla – noun, adj.

1. One who possesses both outer and inner beauty and a purity of soul and thought for others. An angel amongst men.

2. A word to describe something absolutely awesome.

Examples:

1. To many she was a Carla – a thoughtful creature with selfless tendencies.

2. That cake was carla! Delicious!

So there you have it.

Have an amazing, amazing amazing day Carla.

Remember I and the readers love you!

AND GOOD LUCK DRIVING!

Funny facts about the number 16 and February 21st:

A caterpillar typically has 16 legs.

The New Yorker was first published on February 21 1925.

16 A.D. was a leap year.

16 is the atomic number of SULFUR.

16 is one of the numbers in LOST (4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42)

BORN ON FEBRUARY 21st:

ELLEN PAGE!!!

Corbin Bleu

Charlotte Church

Chuck Palahniuk

Kelsey Grammar

Lots of BIRTHDAY love,

Your LOVING LOVING LOVING friend,

Ben.

P.S.

Here is my photo. I didn’t want to interrupt the birthday letter with it. It’s a duck that has now become my lucky charm which I was given inside a box of pirate plasters for my birthday. Silly, I know – but I do treasure it. It helped me through my exams (which, did I say I got all A*s in! I forgot if I said it ) Sorry, it’s a tad blurry – I didn’t realise.

Okay, and for your PHOTO CHALLENGE: Take a spontaneous portrait of happiness. (It might mean you have to carry your camera around with you!).

THIS CHALLENGE IS ABSOLUTELY OPTIONAL! It’s your birthday, you’re allowed a day off.

Also, I downloaded the leaked Kelly Clarkson album and it’s epic. (YES KILL ME NOW SORRY.) I also BOUGHT it, so it makes up for me downloading it before it’s release date.

ALSO:

READERS! LEAVE CARLA BIRTHDAY WISHES NAO! You have been erroneously absent of late!

P.P.S!

CARLA! What is your adress (can you email it to me?) – I have a box of little presents that I found+bought that I want to ship to you! They are cool and quirky and hopefully charming. PLEASE give me the address ASAP!

Dear Carla,

The common short story has more in common with poetry than prose.

- A random thing I read in a bookshop today

Okay, so I spent all of yesterday writing a short story (it had to be sci-fi) for a short story competition at school. I am pretty proud of it, in terms of the fact it’s a definite abandon of my usual style which tends to be pretentious and poetic (or so I try).

So here it is (it’s really long, sorry). I’m not so sure about the ending, so any tips would be useful!

HAROLD HOCKLEY

They say that every life has its score. For some it would be the opening and closing of train doors. For others it would be the quiet crack of the keyboard, as furious fingers dance across lettered faces.
For Harold Hockley the hum and groan of the photocopier would be his swelling orchestra. Almost every waking minute of his adult life, Harold was bent over a photocopier. The glow of the flare of light as it passed beneath paper became his rising sun in the darkened room where he spent most of his time.
The photocopy room was at the very back of the office where he worked. It was an up-and-coming law firm, full of men and women with too much to do and not enough time in which to do it. Scrimjaw and Scrimlock was its name. It had been virtually unknown when Harold had applied for his position. He had little interest in law, but the pay had been good and the managerial staff had been overwhelmingly friendly.
The little photocopy room at the back was about nine square metres in total. There was just enough room for: Harold, the photocopier and a chair, underneath which the paper was kept and on top of which, Harold sat. Upon the door, Harold had pinned a typed notice-:
“Please do not use the photocopier if I am not present. Regards, Harold.”
The knocks upon the door were few and far between, but Harold received them with the efficiency that denoted the trained professional.

The day before it happened, the photocopier had broken. Harold had been copying the arrangements for the firm’s Christmas party when it had stopped working. Without warning, at 3:33pm promptly, its mechanics coughed and collapsed into palsy, drawing breath for the last time. He called the management as soon as it had happened and they had called the photocopier repairman.
The photocopier repairman arrived within the hour, and he worked as quickly as he came. Harold eyed the repairman jealously as he unscrewed and oiled various pieces of machinery. A burning revelation came to Harold. For all he knew how to copy and enlarge various sized type he realised how very little he knew about the actual operations of the machine. Much like a human friend or animal companion, he appreciated only the seen and not the unseen.

The day it happened, Harold arrived to work as usual. He hung his coat in the cloakroom, and ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. He walked through the rows of desks, through flocks of people chattering excitedly in professional tones and past numerous office doors, until he reached his quiet sanctuary at the back. He unlocked the door and eased inside, leaving the door ajar to show the lawyers he was in.
As a rule, the employees of Scrimjaw and Scrimlock found anyone who didn’t dress in a suit to be unusual, and Harold was no exception. Unless it was necessary, they avoided him at all costs. They found his constant cheer oppressive, and his country small talk jarred with them.
Harold unwrapped an egg sandwich, and began to devour it with enthusiasm. A phone rang somewhere in the office. Soon the firm would be alight with calls, but for now the phones remained relatively quiet. A foot pushed open the door of the room.
“Excuse me?”
The occupier of the voice was a short, unpleasantly plump, bald man. His scalp glistened with a frosting of sweat. In his arms was a heavy stack of paper. Harold rose quickly, and removed the stack of papers from his outstretched arms. The bald man smiled. His teeth were offensively yellow. He looked tired.
“Could you bring these to my desk as soon as possible?” he asked. Harold didn’t recognise the man. He assumed he was one of the higher-ups. “We go into court this afternoon, and we’ll need these for then. If you could do two copies of each, that would be wonderful.”
Harold nodded. He looked at the man’s breast pocket, to which was pinned a nametag, which identified him as Simon Bloom.
“Of course Mr. Bloom, I’ll bring these to you right away.”
The man hurried away.
Harold picked up the uppermost sheet. He skimmed his eyes over it. It was mostly dates, facts and numbers. It was intensely boring to Harold. He placed it face down on the glass, and tapped in the correct instructions. His finger found the large green button as his eyes looked elsewhere. He pressed it.
It happened.
The photo-conducting drum began to roll as the light scanned the paper. Two sheets of fresh paper rolled through, as carbon, warmed gently, began to rise and stick to it. The machine gave a tremendous roar as it vibrated vigorously, and out popped two copies of the dates, facts and numbers he had just read.
Harold reached for the next sheet of paper, but the stack was gone. He searched frantically for it. Hadn’t it been perched upon the chair? A phone rang somewhere in the distance, and suddenly Harold noticed his freshly wrapped egg sandwich. He picked it up and sniffed it. He could have sworn he had already eaten it. In fact, he could taste the morsels of egg in his mouth. A foot pushed open the door, as Harold’s mind perplexed.
“Excuse me?”
It was the bald man again, Simon Bloom, holding the papers. Harold took hold of them.
“Thank you,” he smiled in relief, “you forgot to leave them when you were here earlier.”
The bald man furrowed his brow.
“Earlier?”
Harold, too, furrowed his own brow.
“Just now.” Somehow he felt he was explaining to this poor man, that he had been there just a minute ago. “You were here. Just a minute ago.”
“Excuse me?” He sounded offended. “I just arrived.”
Harold’s eyes popped a little, and his jaw slackened. He appropriated himself. He thought it best to ignore the situation. Perhaps it was merely a case of déjà vu. Yet much didn’t make sense to him-: the egg sandwich; the disappearing stack of paper; even the photocopied sheets had disappeared now.
“You want two of each of these as soon as possible?” Harold guessed, presciently.
The bald man nodded and smiled with the same unpleasantly yellow teeth. Harold could tell he was perturbed. The man backed out of the room, and did a half-run/half-walk away.
Harold turned to the photocopier and the photocopier stared at Harold. He picked the piece of paper he had photocopied before, and slipped it onto the glass. He pressed the green button, and waited. Whether he repeated the action because of habit, or because he wanted to see if it would happen again even Harold didn’t know. He justified it to himself as a little bit of both.
At first, because of the blinding glare of the photocopier, Harold didn’t realise his surroundings had changed. When he lifted his head from the photocopier, however, he noticed with a start.
The room, for one, was much grander. The walls were still thin, but now they were covered with decorous wood framing and there were even skirting boards around the edges. The room was larger, too and the furniture had changed. The sparsely furnished photocopy room had bloomed into an office. There was a mahogany desk, upon which resided a paperweight and a nameplate, with mahogany chairs straddling it. There was a large window, too, where once there had been only wall. The only thing that remained the same was the large incongruous photocopier. And Harold.
For a while, he was too stunned to speak. He sat, hugging the photocopier for a while and biting on his lips to try to numb the reality of the situation.  He fiddled with the controls for what seemed like an eternity trying to revert what had already been done. It was after five minutes of quiet contemplation that he decided to get up and leave.
He trod gingerly to the door. Something was amiss, and so Harold felt the utmost care must be taken when performing the everyday action. He opened the door slowly, daring not even to breathe as he did.
When Harold looked outside, he saw a tumultuous crowd formed outside the door. It was a brilliantly lit marble room that stretched (so it seemed) for a mile. There were rows of wooden cubicles, where men and women sat with mostly elderly gentlemen in deep discussion. Harold guessed it was a bank, though he could not be sure.
Harold did not notice it at first, but every patron in the crowd was dressed in unusual clothing. All of the men wore long tailcoats and many of them wore top hats, or carried them under their arms. The women wore modest black dresses that nearly all of the time covered every inch of their leg and foot. They wore their dresses with high lace necks and had unflattering haircuts. Underneath one man’s arm was tucked a newspaper. From afar Harold read it contained the words “Queen Victoria” and “opens”, but the rest was covered.
Let me explain as simply as possible the sensation one feels when they learn they have travelled one hundred and eleven years into the past. At first, one loses feeling in the legs. Ones knees buckle from underneath one and there is such a feeling of vulnerability about oneself that one thinks one may be struck dead at that very moment.
Harold felt this, and more. His knees buckled from underneath him, and he very nearly crashed to the floor had he not steadied himself with the door handle. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood erect and he began to break out into a cold sweat. His torso chilled ice cold, as his head flushed fever hot. In other words, Harold showed all the symptoms of a dying man.
After the startling revelation, Harold suddenly felt quite lost as to what to do. Until then, he had felt quite confident that he would simply get up, and find out how to get home and what was the best bus to get. Now, however, Harold had lost all of that confidence. His family and friends were unreachable – they had not been born – and Harold had little to no understanding of time travel and how to go about it.
He looked back at the photocopier. Now, as the sun set behind it, it cast a long shadow across the office. It formed a malevolent grin. The giant behemoth purred in the corner, and awaited its next victim with parted lips.
Harold stared at the buzzing throng before him. The situation was dire as Harold saw it. He thought of locking himself in the room he had left, and sitting there until he awoke from the terrible nightmare he had created for himself. His final decision, however, was a more stoic approach. If he were to awake from this dream, he would awake in the middle of things. He would leave the safety of what had once been the photocopy room, and enter the city. He stepped forward and was dissolved into the bulging crowd.
Harold Hockley would never touch a photocopier again.

So that’s that!

Also, my photo challenge:

Sorry it’s so fug, but it sums up one of my hobbies!

YOUR CHALLENGE, Carla, is to: take a photo of an object, on a white background, that sums you up. Simple, huh?

Also, (sorry, this is short because my cat is going a la vet soon!), I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona today and it was really good! I was genuinely surprised, because though I love Woody Allen, his last films have been shiteous. But it was a nice surprise.

Penelope Cruz was amazing in it. She is definitely a very passionate woman!

Lots of love,

Your AM I SEXUAL friend,

Ben.