The Word and Verse                                     p 3      June 2013

The word and verse is an independent publication put together  
by members of DU for the purposes of entertainment and is in no  
way intended to offend or cause outbursts of suicide.  
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  From the news Desk  
 
update:  In what can only be described as ..quite something, we have gotten hold of a pic of Anna-Grin from her college days. yep, here in the flesh is a young Anna posing for the college nude calender.  
 
https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-frc1/1003432_479765128772851_579557996_n.jpg  
 
so you see Carpe,  it'll have to be Carpe Grinn  
 
   
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                   Jack's  Art Attack  
 
Hello and welcome to this edition of Art Attack. This time I have for your reading pleasure a short article on the horror genre and a film review; in future Art Attacks I'll always provide a film or book review to follow the main article. Enjoy, and tell me what you think in the comments section below, even if what you think is that I'm a pretentious wanker...  
 
Main article  
 
I like good horror stories. At their best they can, while providing truly compelling entertainment, give a voice to unarticulated darkness and fears. They stand at the brink of the abyss, the death we all face and mystery we're surrounded by, then tell us what they see. Aliens, vampires, zombies and demons are manifestations of the great spiritual mystery every human flounders in. Just as the best sci-fi questions and plays with reality, so does horror.  
 
Yet, despite my liking for good horror, I rarely watch modern horror films. Why? Because they tend to fall into one of two categories: the "funhouse" (my unofficial designation) and torture porn. Torture porn is that subgenre of horror films characterised by the sadistic depiction of intense physical suffering. Hostel and The Human Centipede are among the most popular examples from recent years. My problem with torture porn is really very subjective: though I'm glad that extreme art exists, and more than willing to defend it against censorship, it just doesn't appeal to me. I'm not interested in films whose narratives and ideas depend on realistic sadism. Part of the reason I love storytelling is that it allows us to transcend reality and consider it from a new perspective. In short, the world of aliens, zombies and strange men in the woods, like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre family, are more interesting to me than the world of dank torture dens.  
 
"Funhouse" horrors are more aesthetically problematic. They rely not on mystery or dread, which to me are the essence of horror, or even sadism, but comfortable cliches: pale Japanese children, stormy nights and jump scares, where a musical chord blares in a quiet moment for no reason other than to jolt you from your seat. They're like those ghost trains where a car leads you past numerous alcoves with electronic ghoulies in them. These films are the pop culture equivalent of bland wines: they require no complex appreciation, don't challenge your taste buds and generally pander to expectations.  
 
So what, you may ask, annoyed and perhaps bored by my pontificating, is my kind of horror? Perhaps it's not horror I appreciate so much as terror. My favourite horror film is John Carpenter's The Thing, which is about a group of military men at an isolated Antarctic outpost, who come across an alien shapeshifter which threatens to escape and engulf humanity. Plenty of surreal gore and viscera is flung at us, but what truly drives at the heart of the viewer, in my opinion, is the atmosphere. There's a philosophical nihilism in how these men start to seem more and more doomed, stuck out there in a system of snow-buried shacks as their communications die. How do you know if one of your peers hasn't become a manifestation of the shapeshifting, malevolent thing? What, exactly, is it? Where did it come from? What are its motives? Is there a chance to survive it? Mystery, mystery, mystery...  
 
Horror, for me, as an emotion as well as a genre, is the realisation that we live in a dark and frightening world. We pour this realisation into our stories, personifying it as all the fictional demons which have stalked our favourite characters.  
 
Film review  
 
Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)  
 
A slow-moving tragicomedy, VCB will bore some viewers. It's not made for those who need constant stimulation or even just a satisfying plot; in Woody Allen's world, stimulation and satisfaction are fleeting. For his fans, however, it's a warm and engaging treat. After its release it was called a return to form for Allen, who's made some critical flops in recent years, but really it's no different to most of his late period romantic comedies. It has light music (guitar as opposed to jazz this time), travelogue direction and gentle philosophising.  
 
Scarlett Johansson plays Cristina, a wayward, single idealist, and Rebecca Hall her more sensible, engaged friend, Vicky. They spend a summer holiday in Barcelona, where Vicky absorbs local culture and Cristina meets Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a sexy Spanish artist with an unbalanced ex-wife, Mar�a (Pen�lope Cruz). Throughout their holiday both Cristina and Vicky will become entangled with Juan and Mar�a.  
 
VCB isn't an exciting or intensely funny and dramatic film. It feels deliberately ephemeral, ending as it begins and returning each character to his or her initial state. In this way, Vicky and Cristina's Spanish holiday is the antithesis of Shakespeare's eternal summer. Passion dies, dissatisfaction reigns, and life is a brief, meaningless struggle. This, of course, is Allen's favourite theme; how does one find happiness in an empty universe? Sometimes his characters succeed, if only tentatively, sometimes they don't. VCB's don't, and probably never will, at least not in any lasting, satisfied way. Their lives are a series of summers, each self-contained and slightly incomplete. VCB isn't a dark or necessarily hopeless film, however; there's justice in how the supposedly liberated characters turn out to be just as confused as the normals they judge, and vice versa.  
 
The acting's brilliant. Cruz rightly won an Oscar and a BAFTA for her role; she conveys emotional unbalance to perfection. In a way, she's an outer expression of the other characters' inner turmoil; while they talk and introspect, she writhes and screams. Bardem's impossibly sexy, not just through his body but also his voice and manner; appearing with eyes half-closed, he begins as a self-assured man who could have persuaded Queen Victoria to drop her knickers. Johansson's great; Cristina's not a spoiled American, which is how a lesser actress might have played her, but a lost, questioning soul. She shares a lot with the characters Allen used to play; like Alvy Singer in Annie Hall, she can't accept happiness at face value. Finally, Hall hits the right notes as Vicky, who reminds me a bit of Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby: rich, in love, and unwilling to make sacrifices. VCB's a light, elegant film. It may not be ultimately fulfilling, but then neither is life.  
 
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                     Now hear This  
 
Ok so, Craic claimed to blow (…) his cover in a noble attempt to make up for the pain and suffering of a DU poet… think about that for a minute, yeah, we’re not convinced either. Craic has been very unstable for the past couple of weeks (more than normal, we mean). We didn’t get any messages in our inbox whining about this latest issue. More importantly, no one has kicked down the door here at HQ with demands that seven shades of shit be kicked out of him. So, we think he just wanted to take the limelight (he hasn't posted a poem in a while, uh huh, true story), he’s probably feeling old and vulnerable after that near-death experience of his. Go home, Craic, go home and rest before you go completely nuts and start chasing anyone with a pulse around the forums (too late?)  
 
Our official statement: The Word and Verse denies any knowledge of anyone on its books going by the name of Craic, lepp, Leppero, Eamonn or lepperochan, we appreciate (read, laughed and pointed at) his selfless martyrdom on our thread, and if there was someone hurt by something posted on our page we are deeply deeply deepthroa- umm, looking into how such a thing could have happened. For future reference, if any members feel that they might have been affected by the words posted on our page, please save up and buy yourself some thick skin to wear the next time you venture out of your little bubble.  
    
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In bed with Mugglette  
 
Carpe_Noctem kindly agreed to answer some questions for The Word & Verse.  
 
Carpe, you have an astonishing number of poems published already. Would you say that writing poems is something you need to do?  
   
Well I would say yes, it is something I need to do.  
I never paid much attention in school, I think being an Aspie. Also to begin with I was, one of those that write when depressed.  
this might explain some of what I am about, but suffice to say yes I feel I need to write,  
 
 
We are but bubbles  
drifting about life… sometimes  
we interact with other bubbles  
Now this is where life  
gets… fascinating and interesting  
For small bubbles grow in greatness  
forming family bonds  
 
Sometimes though  
we drift-apart  
for whatever reason  
be they toxic  
or shared lessons learned  
thus moving on  
For in the end  
after all that interaction  
all that shared experience  
the stories told and forever  
retold, eventually spiritually  
we evolve  
 
 
The bubble when ready  
drifts off some place  
far, far away........pop  
Sometimes a bubble or two remains...  
out there on its own  
forming a BIG bubble  
Bursting moments later....never to return  
( there you go mate coffee would have be offered at the end  )  
 
You mention Asperger's, yet you have only been on DU for a little while, and managed to interact well. What is it about DU that makes you feel at home?  
 
I am an introvert so I guess I find it better to interact this way. Plus...we're all mad here.  
 
True enough… are there any members that inspire your poetry? Or perhaps other poets?  
 
Everyone I read, I take a little bit here and there.  
Sort of like cooking really, find what tastes work with what.  
 
Thank you, Carpe, for sharing your thoughts!  
 
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                 Around the Threads in eighty  
 
I'd have thought that the best question to ask a person below you would be "Are you ready for another one". so, Gemini is dreamin' of the smack but wakes up before he gets to use it ..Bragg's second cousin went to Nam ..then later denied it ever existed, Hemi killed a newbie, Lacey Spacey ..having worked on her novel for eight years, has a whole page typed up.  
 
Ravonofsorrow has ditched baby Jesus for now and attached himself to too much tequila, he now thinks that the world is awash with zombies ..that's the imagination sorted, all you need now is the sense of humour and you'll be flyin. Mikki the Moon want's to write a book about the underground ..what's the first rule of the underground? sexypoems writes for dead people because fuck you, he can.  
 
Misunderstood pondered that age old question 'why do some men frget their kids' obvious answer there being dementia, althzimers, or a blow to the head. surprisingly though, no one came up with it.    
 
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That's it for this edition folks, certainly unique thus far, what with all the hullabuoo and shenanigans.  
 
Many thanks to you all, to Jack, and the two guest writers that took up the challenge.  
 
Many thanks to Carpe for speaking to a Mugglette in bed, and to Missy Sub for the candid insight into her weird stuff. here's to another two years of bliss for you at the DU *raises champers*    
 
'Til next time