Did I mention that I'm pretty excited about the RoboCop remake? Because I am.
For those of you who do not understand, I'll start from the beginning. In the late 1980's there was a little sci-fi movie called RoboCop. It was a gritty tale of a Detroit City cop getting (quite literally) blown to bits by thugs during a bust. His name is Alex J. Murphy, played by the famous Peter Weller (Known for such classics as Buckaroo Bonzai, Screamers, and Top of the World). And since Mr. Murphy was blasted to pieces, the OCP corporation decides to go through with their new project. They take the remains of Alex Murphy and give him robot prosthetics and a partial robot brain. He has lost his humanity, becoming almost entirely machine.
Almost.
See, although he's mostly a robot, he still remembers. He remembers his wife, his son. And more importantly, his assailant. And what he finds later is that the thug who killed him is also in with the lead owner of OCP. It's up to RoboCop to bring down the thugs and the corporation, with his sweet hand gun that fits conveniently into his robo-leg and his finely tuned sense of justice.
Now, with that riveting description typed down for your review, I will explain that as a child I loved RoboCop. The movie was far too violent for a child, so I never really watched the movie. I had action figures, and there was a TV series which came much later. Only in the last four years did I purchase and actually watch RoboCop in it's entirety. Best use of two hours.
As you may already know, there were many fine science fiction movies in the 1980's. There was Aliens with Sigourney Weaver, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, The Thing featuring the alpha man Kurt Russell (Did you know that they're remaking that? Preposterous), The Terminator, and handful of others. But nothing compares to RoboCop. Nothing.
How far along they are into this remake, I haven't a clue. I hope it's soon. After the sequels RoboCop 2 and RoboCop 3, and a few short lived TV shows, I believe that the name of RoboCop was ruined. The image, the franchise, was mocked and should have been sealed up tight and remembered for what was, and who RoboCop was, right there in 1987.
But RoboCop is being given another chance. Another chance to blow creeps away. Another chance to use his robo-wit, robo-reflexes, and robo-charm. José Padilha, don't fail me now.
That's it today. Seriously, I know. Next time I'll whip up something intellectual. Or you can send your topics via email at canyon.behind.her@gmail.com. I may or may not get to your topic, but since no one else will send one, yours will probably be chosen to be on Revenge of the Living Blog. I may even mention your name.
Also, you can follow me on the wonderful world of Twitter. Yes that's right. You can follow me @nehemiah810. If you do, you'll see topical tweets like:
"I wish everything could smell like this cake I'm eating."
"Not much for divination, but Phil prophesied about my future wife. She's in Portland and she might be asian."
"Just saw a Propel commercial with Cindy Crawford. Glad to see she's still getting work."
"Important announcement: Good Burger is on ABC Family. That is all."
"Made it through security. Security lady was impressed I have my SNES."
"I finally had that dream last night where I'm about to go on stage to play bass and I'm in my underwear. It was less awkward in the dream."
So follow me, and attain all the rich juice of my life. Because it's there. You just have to have a keen mind to really absorb it and appreciate it.
Alright. Seriously. I'm gone.
Showing posts with label Science Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Science Fiction. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Summa Time
Well, I'm back from an incredibly busy summer. Busy, busy, busy. Nothing but things to do, people to see, and universes to save. I'm wiped out.
All right. That first part was a lie. I've done (for the most part) nothing. Things I've done this summer:
1.) Finished the Harry Potter books
2.) Worked
3.) Started a bit of an internship at a Christian publishing office (unpaid)
4.) Saw Incubus live (finally)
5.) Went on a float trip down the drunken river of destruction (Yes, that is an exaggeration. But did you know that there are more drunk people in southern Missouri than sober people? It's insane.)
That's about it for the high points. Pretty slow summer (first in awhile). Now the weather is finally beginning to settle down so that autum can be given a proper welcome. We do welcome you autum. You're very beautiful and we wish nothing for the best while you're here, but I can't help but think about winter slowly walking behind you, brining the cold and plans to wipe out what beauty you've dressed the world with. These days are in fact getting shorter as well. Too soon, I say. 2011, you've hardly had time to really sit and speak. You've been pacing the room, looking at your watch, and kicking back drinks, anticipating only to leave us. You were rather quiet. I hope only to make small talk before it's time for you to leave. Create a couple memories. Take a photograph. Post it on Facebook. If you'll only grant us that much.
Just to keep my loyal fans in the know, I've been thinking of making another blog. One with a bit more "focus". This is just a scatterbrained mess that I keep around to help prevent writer atrophy (has it helped?). I've thought about a blog of mini-stories (shorter than short stories) or a blog based around tea, or some other thing I'm obsessed with (Time Travel, Audrey Hepburn, etc. etc.). So if there is ever a day when this blog "vanishes" or mutates into some altogether different, you'll know the reason. But until I buckle down and decide what to do, you can read this to your leisure. And I'll continue to write throw away material every couple of months.
Recently I've been considering buying a typewriter. My mom used to have one that I used in my amatuer writing days. Ah, fine days those were. I started out as a horror writer. You know, Steven King stuff. I was only about 9 at the time, but I wrote some really creepy stuff. Short, disturbing stories with titles like, "The Poltergeist" and "The Gremlins". Then about seventh grade I moved to sci-fi. I began a novel called "Sight From the Eagle's Eye". Wrote it at night during the summer of 2000 by hand on sheets of notebook paper. I got to about chapter four and then quit. It's lost foever now.
Tangent.
Anyway, my point being, I want a typewriter and I want it to be rather small. Travel sized if possible. Something Kerouac or Ginsberg would have toted around. So, just donate to my typewriter fund, or send me the old typewriter and I'll get started on my sci-fi time travel epic, "The Universe Is Ordinary". You'll get an advanced copy for your troubles, and by advanced copy I mean that you'll recieve a copy of the original manuscript when it reaches completion. Also, I'll sign it. And you can also come with me on my five city midwest tour, and if you're really qualified and trustworthy, you can be my agent. Yes, the agent to "Mike Lee the Extraordinary". Think about it. We'll grab lunch, hang out. Become best friends.
That's all. Nothing more. It's 2:22pm CST. I'm still in my pajama-jams, listening to that song from The Matrix when Morpheus and Neo are walking down the street during the agent training program. Life is considerably simple and boring (Which is why I need you to invest in me and become my trusted agent). And to answer your question: Harper Collins is a fine for publishing my book. I'm okay with that.
Hope everyone had a great summer, a fantastic labor day. Enjoy your week (call me).
All right. That first part was a lie. I've done (for the most part) nothing. Things I've done this summer:
1.) Finished the Harry Potter books
2.) Worked
3.) Started a bit of an internship at a Christian publishing office (unpaid)
4.) Saw Incubus live (finally)
5.) Went on a float trip down the drunken river of destruction (Yes, that is an exaggeration. But did you know that there are more drunk people in southern Missouri than sober people? It's insane.)
That's about it for the high points. Pretty slow summer (first in awhile). Now the weather is finally beginning to settle down so that autum can be given a proper welcome. We do welcome you autum. You're very beautiful and we wish nothing for the best while you're here, but I can't help but think about winter slowly walking behind you, brining the cold and plans to wipe out what beauty you've dressed the world with. These days are in fact getting shorter as well. Too soon, I say. 2011, you've hardly had time to really sit and speak. You've been pacing the room, looking at your watch, and kicking back drinks, anticipating only to leave us. You were rather quiet. I hope only to make small talk before it's time for you to leave. Create a couple memories. Take a photograph. Post it on Facebook. If you'll only grant us that much.
Just to keep my loyal fans in the know, I've been thinking of making another blog. One with a bit more "focus". This is just a scatterbrained mess that I keep around to help prevent writer atrophy (has it helped?). I've thought about a blog of mini-stories (shorter than short stories) or a blog based around tea, or some other thing I'm obsessed with (Time Travel, Audrey Hepburn, etc. etc.). So if there is ever a day when this blog "vanishes" or mutates into some altogether different, you'll know the reason. But until I buckle down and decide what to do, you can read this to your leisure. And I'll continue to write throw away material every couple of months.
Recently I've been considering buying a typewriter. My mom used to have one that I used in my amatuer writing days. Ah, fine days those were. I started out as a horror writer. You know, Steven King stuff. I was only about 9 at the time, but I wrote some really creepy stuff. Short, disturbing stories with titles like, "The Poltergeist" and "The Gremlins". Then about seventh grade I moved to sci-fi. I began a novel called "Sight From the Eagle's Eye". Wrote it at night during the summer of 2000 by hand on sheets of notebook paper. I got to about chapter four and then quit. It's lost foever now.
Tangent.
Anyway, my point being, I want a typewriter and I want it to be rather small. Travel sized if possible. Something Kerouac or Ginsberg would have toted around. So, just donate to my typewriter fund, or send me the old typewriter and I'll get started on my sci-fi time travel epic, "The Universe Is Ordinary". You'll get an advanced copy for your troubles, and by advanced copy I mean that you'll recieve a copy of the original manuscript when it reaches completion. Also, I'll sign it. And you can also come with me on my five city midwest tour, and if you're really qualified and trustworthy, you can be my agent. Yes, the agent to "Mike Lee the Extraordinary". Think about it. We'll grab lunch, hang out. Become best friends.
That's all. Nothing more. It's 2:22pm CST. I'm still in my pajama-jams, listening to that song from The Matrix when Morpheus and Neo are walking down the street during the agent training program. Life is considerably simple and boring (Which is why I need you to invest in me and become my trusted agent). And to answer your question: Harper Collins is a fine for publishing my book. I'm okay with that.
Hope everyone had a great summer, a fantastic labor day. Enjoy your week (call me).
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Full Circle: Dreams From My Childhood May Finally Become Reality. If I Don't Become Distracted First...
I think I figured it out. My calling in life. Where I should take my yet to be established writing career. Science Fiction.
Hack writing? No. There's plenty of Sci-fi writers who are respected not only in the science fiction world but also in the writing world in general. Such as:
Robert Heinlein
Philip K. Dick
Orson Scott Card
Ray Bradbury
L. Ron Hubbard
Isaac Asimov
And...for good measure,
Mr. Douglas Adams.
All of these guys have become well know and well respected. Their books turning into halfway decent to detestable film adaptations (Blade Runner: As timeless and great as the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? from which the story was derived. Battlefield Earth on the other hand...stupid. Very stupid.)
I also believe there's a high market for Science Fiction, even if its mediocre. Nearly 33 years since the release of Star Wars: A New Hope and there's at least 200 different books, by different authors, taking place at every time and place that one could even imagine within the Star Wars universe. There's a Star Wars book with zombies called Death Troopers. I mean, I could totally go and write about ridiculous things like that. And then there's books based off Halo and Mass Effect. Video games are becoming common bases for literature. Or at least cheap Sci-Fi.
Plus, I've always wanted to write Sci-Fi. I had a big plan to when I was a kid. It lasted for a few months, but you know how kids are. They change their minds about what they want to be when they grow up all the time. One week they want the be a fire fighter. The next they want to be a Power Ranger. I wanted to write sci-fi novels when I was about 9 years old. It was right after I figured I wasn't force sensitive enough to be a real Jedi. Couldn't even levitate stuff. And the blade to my light saber was made of plastic instead of hot plasma, or whatever that stuff is made of. Its friggin' hot, I know that. So, when I realized this, I knew it was time for a career change. Suddenly, I liked writing. I wanted to be a writer (which the dumb idea would come back to destroy me only a decade later). I made up a super hero named Galactic Man. Had a trilogy going in my head with world domination and evil robots. It was a darn good story. At the time. But I loved Star Wars, so I loved anything science fiction. That was my plan when I hit the age I'm at now. I even had the hope that my critically acclaimed book series would become full length major motion pictures. I had high dreams. Then, in fourth grade, we had to write essays and stuff. A lot. So my writing career quickly deteriorated. I hated writing for class. At that point, I began to search for my next career path.
But now, after wanting to be a cartoonist, entreprenuer, bass player, animator, and famed poet and novelist, I think I'm going back to my first love: Writing sci-fi. I don't think I'm really going to go through with it, but we'll see. I bought Orson Scott Card's claim to fame, Ender's Game, to get myself back in the mood. We'll see what happens. Maybe I'll go into screen writing and write something better than that friggin' Avatar. I can write a movie with an underlying focus of all of America's atrocities from the last 200 years too (with the exception of slavery. Apparently they couldn't shoe horn that in. Or it was just much too far).
Anyway, I should start developing my I, Robot, or Stranger In A Strange Land, or Fahrenheit 451. I have a lot of work to do. If nothing else, by next week I'll decide to be a yoga instructor or tattoo artist. We'll see how things pan out.
Thanks for devoting your hard earned time to reading this. Always remember what you could have done instead of reading this. You're now closer to your death bed, and what do you have to show for it?
Tootles!
Hack writing? No. There's plenty of Sci-fi writers who are respected not only in the science fiction world but also in the writing world in general. Such as:
Robert Heinlein
Philip K. Dick
Orson Scott Card
Ray Bradbury
L. Ron Hubbard
Isaac Asimov
And...for good measure,
Mr. Douglas Adams.
All of these guys have become well know and well respected. Their books turning into halfway decent to detestable film adaptations (Blade Runner: As timeless and great as the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? from which the story was derived. Battlefield Earth on the other hand...stupid. Very stupid.)
I also believe there's a high market for Science Fiction, even if its mediocre. Nearly 33 years since the release of Star Wars: A New Hope and there's at least 200 different books, by different authors, taking place at every time and place that one could even imagine within the Star Wars universe. There's a Star Wars book with zombies called Death Troopers. I mean, I could totally go and write about ridiculous things like that. And then there's books based off Halo and Mass Effect. Video games are becoming common bases for literature. Or at least cheap Sci-Fi.
Plus, I've always wanted to write Sci-Fi. I had a big plan to when I was a kid. It lasted for a few months, but you know how kids are. They change their minds about what they want to be when they grow up all the time. One week they want the be a fire fighter. The next they want to be a Power Ranger. I wanted to write sci-fi novels when I was about 9 years old. It was right after I figured I wasn't force sensitive enough to be a real Jedi. Couldn't even levitate stuff. And the blade to my light saber was made of plastic instead of hot plasma, or whatever that stuff is made of. Its friggin' hot, I know that. So, when I realized this, I knew it was time for a career change. Suddenly, I liked writing. I wanted to be a writer (which the dumb idea would come back to destroy me only a decade later). I made up a super hero named Galactic Man. Had a trilogy going in my head with world domination and evil robots. It was a darn good story. At the time. But I loved Star Wars, so I loved anything science fiction. That was my plan when I hit the age I'm at now. I even had the hope that my critically acclaimed book series would become full length major motion pictures. I had high dreams. Then, in fourth grade, we had to write essays and stuff. A lot. So my writing career quickly deteriorated. I hated writing for class. At that point, I began to search for my next career path.
But now, after wanting to be a cartoonist, entreprenuer, bass player, animator, and famed poet and novelist, I think I'm going back to my first love: Writing sci-fi. I don't think I'm really going to go through with it, but we'll see. I bought Orson Scott Card's claim to fame, Ender's Game, to get myself back in the mood. We'll see what happens. Maybe I'll go into screen writing and write something better than that friggin' Avatar. I can write a movie with an underlying focus of all of America's atrocities from the last 200 years too (with the exception of slavery. Apparently they couldn't shoe horn that in. Or it was just much too far).
Anyway, I should start developing my I, Robot, or Stranger In A Strange Land, or Fahrenheit 451. I have a lot of work to do. If nothing else, by next week I'll decide to be a yoga instructor or tattoo artist. We'll see how things pan out.
Thanks for devoting your hard earned time to reading this. Always remember what you could have done instead of reading this. You're now closer to your death bed, and what do you have to show for it?
Tootles!
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