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Wednesday 30 July 2014

My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III


My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: The Day I Met George W. Bush

The above image is not photoshopped in any way.

And here's the thing: it has been 38 months since Part II of this series, and none of the delay can be explained in any straightforward manner. Truth be told, I have been in a decent position to write this list for well over a year and a half now (as the extended 50+ entries should effortlessly demonstrate), but there was a bit of a pesky nuisance in the way. Due to some dodgy surgery performed in a central London alleyway, I formed an infection within my womb and spent the majority of 2012 vomiting hot concrete and Blu-Tack from every hole in my face—mouth, nostrils, tear ducts, you name it. Doctors were baffled, but I knew what was wrong, and spent many a night between fainting fits googling the Darknet for organs on the black market. Eventually I found what I was looking for: a chalk rib, perhaps even my old one, but perhaps not. I ordered it for the extortionate price being asked, and when it arrived in the mail, I verified its authenticity by inhaling the piece down with a touch of nitrous oxide. And it did the trick! I am feeling much better now and grow even stronger per each celebrity meet, until I reached this very point right here, a level of confidence which granted me the courage to tackle this chapter of our journey.

The following accounts were ordered pedantically by utilising a secret algorithm which would take far too long for someone like you to understand, but involves the complex division and shuffling of factors such as: the chances you will know of said celebrity; my personal adoration for the person in question; and the level of spiciness per the meeting itself. As a result, if you do not recognise a name, I recommend you simply keep scrolling until you do, I’m not bothered. Let us begin.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 30. Kate Nash

30. Kate Nash

Famous for: Singing in a cockney style before morphing into one very preachy feminist.
True Story: Starting off without a bang, this is a dumb narrative, but Kate Nash did this thing on Twitter where anyone who tweeted about her new album Girl Talk would get a follow. I guess desperate shameless promotion isn’t beneath her, but of course, I still obeyed instruction like a lapdog, and true to her word, she followed me, continuing to do so until this very day.

Kate Nash follows me on Twitter

She follows around 7,600 people at this point, so the chances of her seeing my posts are next to nothing, but I can FEEL HER THERE, man. Furthermore, she now boasts more than 115,000 followers herself, so I am part of the 6.66% or something. And for what it’s worth, I do really like her, for quite a few reasons.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 29. The Pimps

29. The Pimps

Famous for: Not much! But they did have a song on the Mission:Impossible II soundtrack, which has surely got to count for something.
True Story: This entry qualified purely because of the story factor, even though it was soooo long ago that I could have told you this as far back as the first Greatness blog. In fact, it stands as a mirror of that very piece’s entry #7, so I’m not sure why I am only talking about it now. No matter! Here it is: When I was 15 years old or something, I used to do this thing where I pretended to be a South African journalist and emailed bands like The Pimps, who were just big enough for me to know who they were, yet just small enough to do an interview for a fake magazine, lol. The bassist from the band got back to me (I think his name was Adam maybe, but they are so un-famous that I can’t verify, sorry) and he actually answered my questions really well, so it’s a dying shame that I’m the only one who has ever read it whilst rubbing my dick all over the printed pages as if any of this even matters.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 28. Braids

28. Braids

Famous for: Making rad dreamy arty music without anyone really noticing.
True Story: Even when considering the probable chance that you’ve never heard of Braids, they mean the world to me, point proven when I called their debut album Native Speaker my 17th favourite album of 2011 as well as ranking their show at The Lexington my 28th favourite gig of all time. In fact, it was that very show which this story is about, for after said intimate performance, I went and shook each members’ hand nervously, eventually having quite a decent conversation with their guitarist/keyboardist Raphaelle Standell-Preston. He was very nice, and told me about their tour with The Antlers. I love The Antlers, yet felt compelled to inform him that “you guys are better”. That’s kind of where the conversation ended, awkwardly. Still, I am a huge fan and so even if you don’t care, it’s me who is talking here.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 27. Savages

27. Savages

Famous for: Becoming one of the most popular UK post-punk revival bands in recent years.
True Story: This one almost seems like it means something, because I did not come into contact whatsoever with not only one but TWO Savages. The first member I did not come into contact with was the bassist, Ayse Hassan. After one of my regular yearly panic attacks, I joined a band, and one of their members was Hassan’s brother. This was before they became Pitchfork gold, of course, because if I could have seen the future, I would have held onto that bassist for the rest of my dear life, riding his sister’s success-trail like a starving donkey on heat (I'm not proud of that analogy, but I ran out of time).
The second member of The Savages I did not come into contact with, was the drummer, Fay Milton. According to reports, when I moved out of my house in Hackney (The East Village, as we called it) I was replaced by some guy or other who happened to sleep with Fay on occasion. Now, if you know me and if you knew that house, you’d know that beds never get replaced and mattresses never get washed. That is to say, I’ve had sex on that piece of furniture hundreds of times with about a billion wanks on top, so perhaps in some weird way our juices got all mixed up somewhere within that filthy resting place. Anyways, I have a lot friends who know her quite well, so I’m sorry for being gross, Fay, I JUST LOVE YOUR BAND.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 26. Frank Turner

26. Frank Turner

Famous for: Writing rad acoustic folk punk music with some seriously decent lyrics over the top.
True Story: This is one of those “sister’s husband’s friend’s niece’s teddy bear’s tapeworm” stories, as it has so little to do with me that it really shouldn’t even be included, and yet here it is. It starts with yet another very good musician named Jon Shaban (check out his work here) who I kinda know and am appreciative for, as he is the pillar of this tale. Upon hearing Turner was performing in Cape Town, he phoned everyone in the world until they deservedly granted him the opening slot, which made him very happy, I assume. Anyways, the night before said show, Jon invited (the formerly straight-edge) Frank out for some drinks, where my sister and brother-in-law met up with them, and they all proceeded to get very trashed and probably said stupid things. This is unfair, in my opinion, because my sister was hardly aware of Frank’s work, yet he released my 39th favourite album of 2011 but WHATEVER, NOT JEALOUS. I especially wasn’t jealous when I received photos of the group of them hanging out together, nope, felt fine. Regardless, there was silver lining here when my sister (all too aware of my celebrity issues) got Frank to sign a piece of paper for me, which I currently have in my possession under my pillow, clutching to it at nighttime while I say my prayers. Look:

Hey remember that time Frank Turner signed a piece of paper for me?



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 25. David Firth

25. David Firth

Famous for: Warping the internet’s mind with his Salad Fingers flash animations, among other (superior) stuff.
True Story: Despite having made contact with this creepy man before (which I wrote about in the outtakes section of Greatness 1, clickie) this story is a little more beneficial towards my own desperate thirst for fame. Basically, last year I wrote a highly popular piece titled The Top 50 Animated Characters Ever of which Firth’s own creation, Hubert Cumberdale, landed at #5. Naturally, I figured Dave (can I call him Dave?) would want to know that I, Jared Woods, was talking about him, so I tweeted the information to his profile, and ... he retweeted me! Oh how I squirmed in my chair while I watched the hits roll right in. Thanks, Mr Firth!

David Firth retweeted me once



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 24. Modeselektor

24. Modeselektor

Famous for: Making some of the raddest modern electronic beats to come out of Berlin, evah.
True Story: In 2011, instead of my usual “Top 50 Albums Of The Year” effort, I went a little psychotic and approached the tradition differently, opting to write a short story for each album whilst connecting them all together as one long confusing tale about something or other, I forget. One of these albums (entry #23) was Modeselektor’s Monkeytown, because it’s super awesome, obviously. Many years later, I started toying with the idea of publishing a hard copy of this story, which immediately crashed on top of me like a piano made from reality due the following problem: album artwork has this pesky thing called a “copyright” slapped all over it, and so you can get into trouble for using it without permission, oh noes. Frantically, I emailed each of the 50 artwork owners, mostly hitting dead ends and ultimately giving up on that idea, but some people were very kind and patient, one of which being a guy in charge at Monkeytown records. He was polite and helpful, and ultimately granted me the blessing to use the albums’ image, and as a result, everyone should buy this label’s work all the time because they are super cool. When the topic of payment came up, he responded with “Would it be possible to get three copies of the book then? Two for the Modeselektor guys and one for the designer?” So basically, Modeselektor themselves (whether they know it or not) requested my writing. They would read my stuff! I may just print three copies of the story for that reason alone.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 23. Deftones

23. Deftones

Famous for: Helping pioneer the nu metal genre and then somehow surviving its death.
True Story: Sometimes my brushes with greatness are so brief, that I wasn’t ever there. Such is the case for the Deftones, as it wasn’t me who met them, but rather my sister, or even more importantly, my brother-in-law who managed to fucking interview the fucking band for fucking Hilltop TV (which you can watch here). That said, my family are good to me, and forced singer Chino as well as drummer Abe to sign my favourite Deftones album of all time, White Pony. Kykie:

Oh just when Chino and Abe from The Deftones signed my White Pony album, nothing major

On a lonely night I swear I can still smell his fingers were there. And even if you don’t reckon this is enough to warrant the mention, please note that this is actually my second contact with the band, the first detailed as entry #1 of the original Greatness article.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 22. Justin Pearson

22. Justin Pearson

Famous for: Dominating the noise punk scene in San Diego with multiple bands (most notably The Locust) and his Three One G record label. He also once made out with a boy on Jerry Springer.
True Story: Whether you know him or not, personally I’m gay for Justin Pearson, he’s good looking. And as always, my superfandom paid off quite a while ago, as My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part II detailed in entry #12, right there. If you give that a read, you will note that I am one of his 5,000 friends on Facebook and always enjoy his rambles about why the human race is stupid and what is wrong with modern day music models—all followed by lengthy comment debates, some of which I have been involved with. However, this entry goes beyond that, in particular on the day of my birth 2012, when I got notified that “Justin Pearson Posted On Your Timeline”. I shat and jizzed at the same time as I clicked, revealing this:

Justin Pearson wished me happy birthday

OH MY FUCKING GOD JUSTIN FUCKING PEARSON WISHED ME HAPPY BIRTHDAY ON HIS OWN ACCORD! As if that wasn’t enough for me to slit my wrists instantaneously in full knowledge life wouldn't get any better, one year later to the date, it happened again:

Justin Pearson wished me happy birthday again

So neat. Anyways, I’m sure Justin googles himself like we all do, so if you’re reading this, bro, I hope you don't find it creepy. And I want your babies, or at least am willing to give it our best shot.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 21. Matt Berninger

21. Matt Berninger

Famous for: Fronting the melancholic indie rock band, The National.
True Story: The problem with writing my whole life down is that a lot of these stories will inevitably be repeated across various blogs, and this is one such tale, already detailed in my Best 50 Bands I've Seen Live piece, entry #38. Long story short: me and my friends were riiiight at the back of the Roundhouse venue and I was getting kinda sleepy, not entirely due to boredom but mostly thanks to the lullaby quality of The National themselves (and, perhaps alcohol played a role). Just as I was about to pass out on my feet, the crowd started to act really weird, scattering and screaming until they parted like the red sea right in front of me. Through the light and people, a figure began to emerge. It was singer Matt Berninger. He was coming straight for me. And when he eventually got to me, he bumped me out of the way, and kept on walking until he touched the back wall of the building, and then casually turned around to return to the stage, just because he could. I patted him on the shoulder during this demonstration, my small way of saying “keep up the good work, dude”. They are one of the best bands of the last decade, and it was also a very nice shoulder.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 20. Tyler The Creator

20. Tyler, The Creator

Famous for: Eating cockroaches and leading the Odd Future rap crü to glory
True Story: After pursuing numerous angles to contact this celebrity who I don’t really care about, the connection finally landed on top of my head from out of nowhere. Literally. I was at an Odd Future gig, and Tyler stage dived despite a broken ankle, landing directly upon me, and then was immediately pulled away by other eager fans who wanted some of his skin molecules under their fingernails. Naturally, I surged towards him again and hung onto his wrist as long as I could without it being weird, which was for about a full minute. His legs also continuously smashed into my face, but I didn’t care because my heart had finally stopped hurting.
(feel free to read a lot more about this story in my Undeniable Proof That The Law Of Attraction Works! article, entry #7, it’s your life)



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 19. Scroobius Pip

19. Scroobius Pip

Famous for: Rapping over Dan le Sac’s beats, almost exclusively known for the track Thou Shalt Always Kill.
True Story: Once upon a time I went to a concert held by a band called At The Drive-In, do you know them? Fuck me, it was AMAZING. Anyways, on the way out, my mate was like “omg, look, it’s Scroobius Pip,” and so I did look, and sure enough, it was Scroobius Pip. What I always felt kinda weird about this though, was that he was standing by the door whilst everyone else was just trying to leave the venue, as if waiting for people to recognise him. Well, we recognised him, so I figured the least I could do was grant him the favour of saying “hi”. So I did, stuck out my hand, and he shook it without even looking me in the eyes, as if to say “here is your handshake now please leave me alone.” So yeah, the experience was a little uninspiring, but the pizza I had afterwards was truly magical. Stuffed crust and shit, proper mad.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 18. Mike Bernado

18. Mike Bernardo

Famous for: Kickboxing, going on to become a K-1 world champion.
True Story: Back when I was a troubled youth, I attended various meetings and clinics to try and sort myself out, and as one would imagine, I met a varied mix of crazies along the way. On my first day at one of said clinics, I found myself sat next to a motherfucking monster of a dude who could have eaten my head if he was feeling a touch peckish, but instead he was preoccupied by his own tortured thoughts, crying into his hands about the painful life he had lived. Such moments are experienced in confidence and so I am reluctant to give away too many details, but I will say that (despite kicking the faces off many well known fighters, Butterbean included), he was a gentle guy with a big heart and an even bigger belief in God (which he tried unsuccessfully to convince me of during our many, many conversations). Unfortunately, this story has an unhappy ending, as while I got much better and turned into the upstanding member of society you see today, Mike lost his battle against his demons and took his own life on Valentine’s Day, 2012. You are missed, Bernado, see you on the other side.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 17. Daughn Gibso

17. Daughn Gibson

Famous for: Crooning over sexy indie electronic beats, creating my 12th favourite album of 2012 in the process.
True Story: Walking into the Electroworkz club in 2013 to watch Daughn perform, I was surprised at how unknown the guy is, as hardly anyone was in attendance, there wasn’t even any security, and the sound was so terrible that I kept thinking I was locked in my kitchen cupboard again. Regardless, such an intimate show comes with its advantages, as Daughn walked around freely after the gig, giving me the opportunity to pounce upon his manly manliness, and gush about how his song Ray has some of the best lyrics I’ve heard in a long time. He seemed chuffed enough, and then we took this photo yay, look:

that day I put my arm around Daughn Gibson, please note the hover hand

Please note the hover hand.
I’m a superfan of the guy, so your ignorance does not apply, it was a big one for me.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 16. The Bloodhound Gang

16. The Bloodhound Gang

Famous for: Talking about a roof being on fire whilst making crude sex jokes despite their 40-something age group.
True Story: As a loooong term BHG junkie, I am very proud of this one. Back in 2000, they released an underrated yet surprisingly solid album titled Hooray For Boobies. Imagine my surprise when I opened up the artwork only to find that they had thanked me specifically within the cover! Take a look for yourself:

Bloodhound Gang thank me personally in their Hooray For Boobies cover


Do you see it? No? Well then click that image for a larger, highlighted version.
You see it now? You see? Right there! “Anyone named Jared”. That is my name, and there are not that many of us, and it’s my spelling exactly, and you don’t see them mention your name anywhere, do you? It counts.

Special thanks to little sister Jaclyn who was very friendly and scanned that picture in for me without even complaining. You saved my blog!



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 15. Neil Gaiman

15. Neil Gaiman

Famous for: What isn’t he famous for? He writes books mostly, though.
True Story: Sometimes you follow celebrities on Twitter, not because they are interesting (read: more often than not, quite dull) but because you are praying for the day when you jump up and down high enough in the virtual world to get their attention. THIS STORY IS ABOUT ONE OF THOSE DAYS. Basically, Neil started a debate about the “efficacy of good books vs high heels for meeting people”. I responded very poetically that “Books = effective on trains and in libraries. High Heels = effective on trains and in libraries and everywhere else.” In case you’d like to read that again, here it is in image form:


As you can see by that helpful arrow, Neil retweeted the response himself, which has gone on to (currently) be my second most popular Tweet of all time (according to Favstar). Thank you Neil, you can be my favstar if you like!*
(* limited time only offer)



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 14. Little Dragon

14. Little Dragon

Famous for: Being a crazy awesome Swedish electro band of note.
True Story: As previously mentioned, in 2011 I wrote a Top 50 Albums blog, except instead of granting each album a normal review, I wrote them a short story, a daring and ambitious concept executed by an embarrassing experiment in masturbation. Regardless, it had its merit, some people really enjoyed it, and certain events justified its existence completely. For example: this story. For you see, after tweeting to all the relevant artists informing them of the project, some of them smelt my desperation and gave me a wink or a nod, which was the exact case for Little Dragon, the band effortlessly retweeting my post and no doubt forgetting about it 10 seconds later, whilst my life suddenly had meaning. Look:

hey do you remember the time Little Dragon retweeted me?

However, what makes their retweet all the more special is the following two points:
(1) They were my second favourite album of the year, #2 of 50, which just proves how much I love them and why it means more than if, say, Graveyard did it.
(2) Furthermore, they have some proper star followers, like Flea (who only follows 360 people or so) or Murdoc from Gorillaz (who only follows 25 people or so). Meaning: there is a small chance that someone even more famous clicked that link and read my blog. Unlikely? Sure. Possible? Sure!



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 13. Mr. Nice

13. Mr. Nice (Howard Marks)

Famous for: Smuggling a fuckload of drugs around the world and then writing a book about it.
True Story: My memory is hazy (which is poetically relevant to Mr. Nice, if you think about it), but at some point in 2011 I went to a club where Howard was DJing. Hardly anyone was there, so me and my mate Ash walked up to him and shook his hand. Ash got his book signed and rambled on to the guy who was noticeably uninterested, while I decided to steal a piece of Jenga from the club’s board game section just because I’m not very Mr Nice. Brief, but they did make a movie about Marks, so he’s pretty fames, worthy of my attention at least.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 12. AlunaGeorge

12. AlunaGeorge

Famous for: Creating some of the most delicious electropop garage 2013 has ever seen.
True Story: After releasing my 37th favourite album of 2013 I was beyond ecstatic when (during my weekend at Reading Festival that same year) I found out that AlunaGeorge were at the signing tent, and I could go meet them for free. So, naturally, I got super drunk for confidence reasons and then queued up until I was face to face with the exceptionally attractive Aluna and the awkwardly awkward George. They signed my stuff whilst I just blurted out random shit that went something like “omg I just wanna say you guys are fucking incredible omg seriously one of the coolest artists right now I loved your show earlier what I like the most is the way that you George manipulate Aluna’s vocals and it becomes difficult to know where Aluna ends and George begins and Aluna omg are you going to be at The Disclosure tent tonight and can I get a high five omggg?” Despite looking quite tired, they actually appeared rather amuse at my ramble, and were glad to comply with the high five request. In fact, when I left, George looked at me with this sincerely grateful flash in his eyes and said “thanks, man.” I dunno, can’t really explain it, but I think I was a sliver of entertainment in their otherwise dull monotonous fan meetings. Anyways, evidence!

Me hanging out with AlunaGeorge
AlunaGeorge signed a yellow card for me at Reading Festival 2013



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 11. Beardyman

11. Beardyman

Famous for: Beatboxing ill skillz.
True Story: As my favourite beat boxer in the whole wide world wide web, it’s pretty amazing at how many run-ins I’ve had with the guy. The first was right outside my work. I was simply walking towards the front doors of my office and *poof* there he was, wandering around aimlessly. I shook his hand and he looked bothered, so I left him there with a smile on my face, a wonderful start to my day. Fast forward to a few months later, and *poof* he was in front of me again, this time on the same train. We were standing practically shoulder to shoulder as he danced to his headphones, while I got more and more angry. I mean, the rest of the train seemed completely oblivious to the fact that they were in the presence of such a star, how dare they? I nearly started screaming at people but decided that wasn’t the British way and instead opted to keep rubbing my dodgy nipple upon his t-shirt. And as the train rode on, I started to fantasise: what if we got off at the same stop? Then I could talk to him FOREVER! I could follow him to his house and become his BFF! So you must imagine my disappointment when the doors opened the stop before mine, and he turned to leave. Dissatisfied, I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, to which he spun around and I gave him the thumbs up. His eyes were super bloodshot and he gave me a goofy smile, and that was the last time I ever saw Beardyman. Although, I did manage to get hold of him the very next day on Twitter:

me and my homeboy Beardyman conversing on Twitter



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 10. Amanda Palmer

10. Amanda Palmer

Famous for: Standing as one half of the Dresden Dolls (as well as many other projects), raising $1m on Kickstarter, and marrying Neil Gaiman.
True Story: Procrastinating to the last minute, I was unsure whether I should go to Amanda’s show at The Roundhouse one night in 2013, all alone. I decided I’d better ask her, and this followed:

me and Amanda Palmer having a bit of a chat on twitter

So I made it happen, and as it turns out, it was a fantastic idea, as this became the 5th best show I’d ever been to in my life and she even got naked.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 09. Storm Thorgerson

09. Storm Thorgerson

Famous for: Creating the greatest album artwork in history, for such legendary artists as Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Muse, Mars Volta, and everyone else.
True Story: Yet another brush with greatness that doesn’t actually involve me, this story once again revolves around my little sister who went to an exhibition in South Africa focusing on the man’s work, which he himself was in attendance. Near the end, she bought me his book The Raging Storm, got him to sign it, then mailed it to me (along with her recently removed wisdom teeth, yissss). This is a fucking HUGE deal, not only because I have been obsessed with the man for a decade, but because he died a year later, this autographed book blatantly upping substantially in value whilst I have even less interest in selling it. Look:

my signed Storm Thorgerson book, and my sister's wisdom teeth



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 08. Greg Puciato

08. Greg Puciato

Famous for: Singing his guts out for mathcore pioneers The Dillinger Escape Plan.
True Story: When I went to watch Mastodon at the Brixton O2 in 2012, I had no idea it would go on to be my 14th favourite gig of all time, and not even because of Mastodon themselves. No, rather it was the opening act Dillinger Escape Plan who stole the show, most likely because I got right to the front whilst dancing disjointedly to their fucked up time signatures, suffering through the elbows like shots to the ribs. There were plenty of moments which stand out, but in context of this blog, it was when Greg climbed on top of us and screamed whilst we held him up the best we could. At one point he looked down at me and shoved the microphone into my face, almost smashing my teeth out in one vicious stab. I didn’t know what to do so I just screamed as loud as I could, which was probably the right move. I consider this to be a potent brush with greatness, not only because I squeezed into Greg’s wrist like a stress ball, but because for an abrupt moment, I performed live at the O2 with Dillinger Escape Plan. Have you?



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 07. Norman Reedus

07. Norman Reedus

Famous for: playing Daryl Dixon in The Walking Dead, as well as Murphy McManus in The Boondock Saints. Also for being very sexy, no homo.
True Story: The first of three “London Film And Comic Con 2013” stories, where tons of celebrities were scattered around, signing autographs, shaking hands, getting paid. One of the main attractions was Reedus, and we queued politely until the man was ready to see us. He was very nice, shook my hand and said “Hi, my name is Norman,” to which I replied “Yes, I know who you are”. We got his autograph which seems very nice and all, but the whole experience was tainted by the fact that my then girlfriend squirted out of her vagina as she hugged him, leaving a disgusting embarrassing mess for the cleaners. I was jealous.

oh, just me casually pointing at Norman Reedus, no biggie
me and my ex holding up a signed photo of Normal Reedus



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 06. Helen Zille

06. Helen Zille

Famous for: Leading South Africa’s opposition party (the DA), as well as standing as the former Mayor of Cape Town.
True Story: One day Helen made the statement that any promiscuous man who had unprotected sex should be charged with attempted manslaughter, which due to the high AIDS rate in the country kinda makes sense, but in regards to human rights, doesn’t. I figured I should tell her so, and did, as you can see here:


The reaction got out of control, insane really. According to this account I was actually trending in South Africa for a while, and of course, Helen’s army came crawling out from the dirt at all angles, biting my sides yet only succeeding in tickling me a little bit. It’s a long story, but I have written about it in mass detail here if you feel like getting the full picture.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 05. Peter Dinklage

05. Peter Dinklage

Famous for: Pretending to be Tyrion Lannister in the Game of Thrones series, among others.
True Story: The second of my “London Film And Comic Con 2013” trilogy, and this is quite a cool one, I think. Basically, after queuing for a while and being informed we weren’t allowed to touch Peter (his little hands were hurting from all the signage, bless), my three friends and I were practically hyperventilating by the time we were in his presence, standing with mouths agape and shaken by the star presence he omitted—ironically the biggest guy in the room. Noting our fear, he took the conversation reigns and asked “what’s the secret?” and we were like “the secret to what?” and he replied “the secret to staying young?” All my friends froze solid and I realised I would have to save the day by blurting out “sleep a lot”. He laughed and explained that he definitely didn’t sleep enough, and we all giggled, in love. He signed our well chosen postcard of him lying on top of a naked lady, to which he remarked “thank God she was so tall, so I have more space to sign.” We didn’t laugh because we weren’t sure whether he was purposefully mocking his own stature or not (what is the PC protocol?), but regardless, I give mass props to Peter for being such a super chilled dude and living up to his own hype completely. Checkit:

there Peter Dinklage, right there!



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 04. Sinéad O'Connor

04. Sinéad O'Connor

Famous for: Singing emu songs, most notably the rearrangement of Prince’s Nothing Compares 2 U, one of the highest rated and selling singles of the 90s.
True Story: Sinéad went a bit crazy on social media in 2011, probably the most fascinating of it all when she tried to find a husband online, stating many reasons as to why she was a catch, the best of which being “yes I 'do anal' and in fact I would be deeply unhappy if 'doing anal' wasn't on the menu, amongst everything else$$ So if u don't like 'the difficult brown'.. Don't apply...” Naturally, this is a silly thing to say in public, and the internet took it in turns to each post their inappropriate comments, with me on the front line with them. What I didn’t expect, however, is that she was actually listening, and got back to me, the whole ordeal looking like:

that day when Sinead O'Connor swore at me

Of course, groupie backlash was quick to follow, but what no one seemed to understand was that I am a massive O’Connor groupie myself, and as a result, adored the whole scenario in that OMG SHE SPOKE TO ME WHEEE kinda way. Unfortunately, this thrill was short lived, as the very next day news came in that she had tried to kill herself the night before, and I will always wonder to what extent I played a role. Probably not much, but still ... sorry, Sinéad, I was only teasing.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 03. Alfie Allen

03. Alfie Allen

Famous for: Portraying Theon Greyjoy in Game of Thrones.
True Story: This is an interesting one. I was just chillin’ in my room, doing Jared chillin’ things, when I heard my housemate come home. I’m polite, so I went downstairs to say hi, and there was this other guy sitting there instead. He introduced himself as “Alfie”, and I explained I must have met him before, because I recognised his face. He said perhaps I was familiar with his acting work, to which I laughed at his blatant boasting, telling him I didn’t think so because I hate people who try to sound cool. He then stated very matter-of-factly that “Well, the latest thing I’ve been working on is called Game Of Thrones, you seen it?” and I choked. It was really weird, because I had literally just finished watching a GOT Season 1 marathon the day previous, and if he’d visited a week earlier, I wouldn't have had a clue. So anyway, we sat there for a while smoking a spliff and talking exclusively about him, and then he left, inviting me to a party which (like an idiot) I didn’t follow up on. The last thing I said to him was “I’ll keep an eye on your career, mate,” and I have.
Only once he left and I googled him (finding a few pictures of his penis along the way) did I realise to my shock that he was Lily Allen’s brother, which as most people know, is kinda the closest to fame I’ve ever come.



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 02. Mike Skinner

02. Mike Skinner

Famous for: Rapping in a mockney accent whilst driving The Streets, one of the most popular English UK garage acts, ever.
True Story: Despite holding onto his wrist for dear life back in 2008 or so (which coincidentally is also featured at #2 on my very first Greatness blog), I think you will find this interaction much more satisfactory. After closing the chapter on The Streets, Mike also wrote many more chapters about the chapter, and then sold it together as one book called The Story of The Streets, which I bought and thought was okay. Anyway, in order to sell more copies, he had an in-pub signage which me and my then girlfriend attended, eventually sitting down with the guy for a minute or two, chatting over a pint. Naturally, I was nervous as all hurl and ended up saying stupid shit, such as “wow, you must be so bored of this”; “is your new band called The Dot or The D.O.T?”; and “I heard you hate Aphex Twin, how the fuck do you hate Aphex Twin?” whilst waving a finger in his face. Still, he was chilled and very good looking, and I ended the conversation by asking “please tell me who When You Wasn’t Famous is about? It’s Rachel Stevens isn’t it?” to which he replied “the answer is in the book.”
Spoiler alert, it was in the book. It said “When You Wasn’t Famous is not about Rachel Stevens.” Well played, Skinner. Anyways, here we are:

Just me chilling with Mike Skinner
Mike Skinner signed his book for me yay



My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III: 01. David Hasselhoff

01. David Hasselhoff

Famous for: portraying Michael Knight in Knight Rider and Mitch Buchannon in Baywatch, as well as singing and just generally being The Hoff.
True Story: As the final stop of the “London Film And Comic Con 2013” adventure, the tale itself is somewhat dull. We stood in line, got to the front, I shook David’s hand and shouted “DUDE YOU ARE LEGEND” to which he laughed but his eyes looked a bit scared, which I reckon is as a good thing. He signed a suggestive postcard of himself for me saying “Life is Beautiful” (I’m sure it is, you rich bastard) and then we left. But the point is ... I met fucking David Hasselhoff, yo! I touched his hand! And his autographed picture is on my wall to this very day, strategically placed there to remind me what life is really about. It’s about The Hoff. I honestly can’t think of a better entry to top this list.

thumbs up to The Hoff
David Hasselhoff told me my life is beautiful



Outtakes

31. Donald Sutherland (Famous for starring in countless films for nearly 50 years)
This one happened two days ago! At Secret Garden Party, my friend pointed out this guy who looked suspiciously like a celebrity. Naturally, me mate asked him if they could take a photo together, he agreed, and I snapped the shot. Only once we got home did we realise it was Donald, and now I wish I was in that picture too :(

32. Devvo (Famous for calling people a dickhead on David Firth's website)
Weirdly followed and unfollowed me on Twitter several times. Mentioned him on my 10 People You Have To Follow On Twitter blog and he thanked me for it.

33. Pogo (Famous for the best plunderphonic electro beats in the world, made up from film sounds, listen)
Follows me on Twitter to this very day for some reason.

34. Rolf Buchholz (Famous for earning Guinness World Records for the most single count piercings and the most body modifications (male))
During my quarter life crisis last year, I got suspended, it was great. At the same time, Rolf was also hanging by hooks, looking very scary and intimidating as he did so (google images of him!). He even took a few photos of me, then I shook his hand as I left.

35. Rob Harvey (Famous for fronting the alternative indie band The Music)
As one half of Mike Skinner's The D.O.T. project, he was there at entry #2. I didn't recognise him, but he did tell me to not walk into the camera he had set up. Lol.

36. Matana Roberts (Famous for creating some of the coolest improv jazz I've ever heard)
After telling her about my short story based on her album (#13), she responded with some comments proving she read it :D She then followed me on Twitter, but has since unfollowed me :(

37. Ninja (Famous for spitting zef flows as one half of Die Antwoord)
Much like my second Greatness blog (#3), Ninja landed on my head once again, this time in 2013 at the Brixton O2.

38. Chris (Simpsons Artist) (Famous for drawing some of the weirdest pictures on the internet)
We've had quite a few online interactions, but the best came when I ordered an image of Ronald McDonald he drew, which he signed along with some other bits and pieces.

39. The Caretaker (Famous for creating some insane dark ambient ballroom tunes, incredible)
After placing his album An Empty Bliss Beyond This World as my 4th favourite of 2011 (as well as writing a short story about it) I contacted him much like Modeselektor, and ended up having quite a long email conversation with the guy. Groupie squirt!

40. REKS (Famous for rapping some insane East Coast flavour)
Much like The Caretaker before, I emailed asking about using his artwork for short story #29, which he said was fine, as well as "Thanks for the support, Homie!" Hey, it's not a problem.

41. Robag Wruhme (Famous for making some wicked druggy electronic tunes)
Went to an all nighter Robag show with my friends, we danced to his wonderfulness, then went and spoke to him a bit afterwards, suffocating him with our presence. There is a photo of this somewhere.

42. Snowman (Famous for experimenting with rock in the most delicious of ways)
Despite being blessed with yet another one of my 2011 short stories (#40), this story has nothing to with that. Instead, after hearing their album, I found the singer on Last.FM, wrote on his wall praising him, and so he wrote back thanking me.

43. Kezia (Famous for being the self-proclaimed "World's Leading Female Pick Up Coach")
During my shameful PUA days, I went to a Ross Jeffries seminar and met Kezia. We then became friends on Facebook, and upon noticing how boys worshipped her shoes, I took it upon myself to challenge her methods, generally when I was drunk. She was always quite bitchy about it and eventually deleted me. Whatever, she's smoking hot.

44. Dumbo Gets Mad (Famous for some rad psychedelic indie pop stylings)
Once again thanks to my 2011 short stories (#31) I contacted this band's label informing them of my hard work. They thanked me, followed me on Twitter, and Dumbo Gets Mad themselves were quick to follow them following me.

45. Fink (Famous for singing some gorgeous folk electro something)
2011 Short Stories, #16, told him about it, he said it would take him a while to read it all, lol.

46. Giles Corey (Famous for creating some fucked up haunting slowcore acoustic shit)
2011 Short Stories, #44, granted permission to use album artwork.

47. Psychic Paramount (Famous for burning off ears with noisey psychedelic rock music)
Last one of these, shew. 2011 Short Stories, #46, told them about it, they said they liked it.

48. Tripp Eisen (Famous for performing guitar with Statc-X, Dope, and Murderdolls, as well as fucking an underage girl)
After being released from jail due to a mishap where he kidnapped and slept with a 15-year old, a formspring account cropped up claiming to be Tripp. I asked him why he was targeted because I thought all rockstars slept with little girls (haha), and he said yes, they were picking on him. No idea if it was really Tripp though, but who cares.

49. Perez Hilton (Famous for being an asshole to celebrities via his blog)
A while ago this weird thing happened on Twitter when you could force people to follow you. For some reason, I did it to Perez Hilton, and hopefully it annoyed him. He unfollowed me quickly after. What a story.

50. Professor Green (Famous for rapping about tough first world life in London)
I walked past him on the street once, and kinda just stared at him until he went back into his hotel. Does that count?

51. Crash of Rhinos (Famous for singing emo music, their album Knots well praised all over)
Laziest brush ever! After listening to their album, I wasn't impressed, but due to its length, became one of my "most listened to artists of the week" according to Last.FM. Now, I have this thing which automatically connects my Twitter to my Last.FM, and each week it tweets my "most listened to artists of the week". So Crash of Rhinos (while obviously searching Twitter for their own name) found this tweet and favourited it. Basically put: I literally did nothing, and they are literally not famous at all.



Conclusion
Mass props to my friends Lisa and Eleanor, who have met so many celebrities themselves that their lists would put mine to shame.
Here’s to hoping that this is the last time I write one of these stupid things before I become famous myself. Then maybe someone will write about meeting me! Actually, yeah, please somebody do that.



How To Wash Dishes Like Jared Woods


Learn how to wash dishes properly
I must be getting old or something because not only have I found some weird therapeutic value in washing dishes, but I actually thought that writing an article about how I do so would be somewhat interesting to the general public. But the truth is, I have got this shit down to an art and I couldn't really hold it inside myself any longer. So here you go, follow this guide and you will have nice sparkly clean dishes to eat from in no time.

First and foremost, the key to washing dishes is to LOOK. I know this seems obvious, but I swear to God some people don’t know this, they just give a quick scrub and put that shit in the rack, bits of food still intact. You need that sponge to run over every single surface area of every single dish, which includes the bottom of plates, please. You should also spend extra time on the rim of all glasses and mugs because that’s where dirty lips go. Once you have rinsed it off, for the love of Jesus, fucking LOOK. Do it carefully. Is there still pieces of matter stuck there? Then rub those off before you deem an item reusable.

Another little related tip is that prevention is better than the cure. If you are too lazy to wash dishes immediately after your meal (and I suggest you do, because I do) at very least give that shit a rinse. The longer a plate is left dirty, the longer the dirt hardens and fuses itself to the surface, giving you a much harder cleaning time. Make this a religion: always rinse your plate as soon as you can. It will save you a load of effort in the long run.

Ok, so with the how-to’s out the way (which you should already know), I want to introduce to you the system I like to utilise. The reason being: it turns everything into a bit of a game and you will come out the other side with the sense of achievement that you have done more than your part in maintaining godliness.

So let’s hypothesis, and say you steamed some veggies, cooked a steak in the oven, and ate it with a load of gravy whilst enjoying a glass of water. You also have a cup of tea afterwards, because you are worth it. This means the damage would look something like:

A fork
A knife
A plate
2 mugs (for the gravy and tea)
2 spoons (for stirring the gravy and the tea)
A glass (for the water)
A pot
A sieve (for them veggies steams)
A cooking tray

This might not be 100% accurate depending on your methods, but the game remains the same. Get your dishwashing liquid and full the sink with water (or however you prefer to do it), and get ready to ROCK.

The magical process goes like this:

Wash one fork
Wash one knife
Wash one spoon
Wash one plate
Wash one bowl (but we didn’t use a bowl? hang on)
Wash one mug
Wash one glass
Wash one large item (tray, pot, sieve etc)
Wash one weird item (this could be anything from a can opener, a large knife, a wooden spoon, a lunch box, anything which doesn’t really fall into the above categories).

Done? Great, round 1 complete! If you followed this correctly, you should (in this example) have two large items left as well as one mug and a spoon. But instead of just washing those and getting it done with, you must repeat the magical process once again: one fork, one knife, one spoon… etc. If there are, say, no bowls in sight, then skip that one, but otherwise follow that list exactly.

Once you have reached the end of round 2, you should only have one large item left. You will be tempted to wash this item and then go back to your computer, but do not surrender to this. Start the magical process once again: one fork, one knife, one spoon… etc.

You must keep doing these rounds until the very last dirty item from your original list of dirty items is clean. This means that if, say, you had personally dirtied four mugs for your dinner, you must do four rounds, even if this means you clean way more than your share. For example (based on the above list, if followed correctly), you would’ve completed three rounds, having washed:

3 forks
3 knives
3 spoons
3 plates
3 bowls
3 mugs
3 glasses
3 large items
3 weird items

But why? Why would you do all of this? This question will apply even more furiously to those who (like me) live in a vile house share. You may think it’s a ridiculous idea to wash someone else's dishes, but hold up, there are a few reasons why you are doing this:

(1) Everyone wants to have a positive influence on life itself, unless you are an asshole. One of the easiest ways to achieve this, is to leave any given room better than when you found it. It also means that any dish you may have forgotten to clean throughout the day, will be effortlessly sorted during this quick one-time process.
(2) There is some relief in knowing that if you were left home alone for a few days, with minimal effort all the washing would get done even if every dish in the house was dirty, proving you are a functioning human being that your parents could be proud of.
(3) If your housemates aren’t like mine (mine have never even noticed I do this, BTFW), they might even be grateful. But don’t get your hopes up, lol.

I know what some of you more OCD people may be thinking. While you are there and have built up momentum in the system, why stop? Why not just wash all the dishes if you’ve already applied yourself to the cleaning process? Personally, I wouldn’t suggest you do this, otherwise people will never learn. In fact, in a small passive-aggressive way, I suggest you do the opposite. If there is a certain dirty item which is unique to one individual (perhaps a part of a blender, or a plate with a half eaten sandwich on top), make sure you place it on a more obvious platform of display, reminding the whole house that there is a dirty person in your midsts. If it still remains after a few days, take a photo of it and post it to their facebook wall, idk.


MARK MY WORDS, YOUR LIFE HAS JUST BEGUN, NOW HERE IS THE UNRELATED NEWS.


JUICE NOTHING
Since the last news update, there have been three new bloggythings, interestingly enough, none of which were about music. Don’t worry, it was intentional, the next one will be.
In case you missed them, this is what they were:

Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli
Now this was a biggie, much bigger than anticipated. I had been aching to write it since September last year, but opted to wait until The Wind Rises English release came out, which I reckon was a good idea. I also think my execution was pretty decent by my standard, to the point that I even dared to post it to the Studio Ghbili subreddit and was blown away when it received around 100 upvotes and a lot of debating beneath, turning into something I am really proud of, going on to gain more than 4800 hits, my second most read blog this year behind only that heartbreak one. I hope I did Ghibli justice, because they are my favourite thing of all time.
Furthermore (and what you don’t know), is that this first of a kind blog is just that: the first. I have big plans for this format.

My Brief Brushes With Greatness Part III
Released in conjunction with this very news article, I must add that I am past the point in my writings to care about such ridiculous topics, and yet by the time I had finished this third part of the series, I felt surprisingly stoked about it. It's a bit of fun with decent enough content, and I am fully aware that with so much powerful name dropping going on, these Greatness blogs do tend to stand strong as Google Gold. But as the conclusion states, let's hope this is the last one.


THE GOAT’S NEST
Clean Birth
In between all of that, there was 2014’s Goat’s Nest short story, and unlike most of my short stories, it’s actually relatively short! What’s even more weird about this particular offering, is that I can’t really remember where the idea came from, but in hindsight I kinda see it as a fictionalised slice of that Everything, All Of The Time puke I wrote last year.
Anyways, as is tradition, I attempted the first rough draft on a plane trip to South Africa in February, but it was so terrible that I threw it away and wrote it again, the second draft still pretty shit, but workable. Eventually it turned into quite a different, cool bit of writing in my opinion, working as not only some sort of a prequel to The Johnson Line but also as the start of a muuuuch bigger story which I've already sort of read in my mind. It should be good, but even if it’s not, look at the pictures! None of them were coloured in, all the textures you see (while watery and distorted) were taken from real life photographs! Fun!

With these behind us, it means there are only five more articles to be released this year, and I already know what they are, oooh.

Two trains of thought follow on from this one. The first, is that I have been making a few changes to this very blog you are reading right now, perhaps you've noticed? Basically, the font size is much larger and legible, plus there is some great behind the scenes SEO going on, which is probably why I received over 20,000 hits last month, a new J0 record. And it's only climbing higher, so perhaps one day I might actually get paid for simply being me.

The second train of thought stays on The Goat's Nest topic, whereas I wanted to quickly inform you that heavy research has begun for the next (long) short story. I've mentioned it before and I'll mention it again, it is the sequel of sorts to my favourite Goat's Nest offering, The Triangular Theory of Love. Much like the aforementioned, it's going to be fuckoff disturbing, probably even more so than the original, to the point that I'm not very comfortable with how deep I'm going. Let's look at an early 2015 release, shall we?


THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON DRUGS
It sucks, but my debut novel is still not ready. Far from it. The reason is not the writing (cos it's done) or the formatting (cos it's nearly done), but the fucking illustrations, man. I've completed five and they are super coolio imo, but I think I still have something like 15 to go, which should give you an indication as to why holding your breath will be your demise. Sorry. The thing is, for health reasons I have removed all deadlines from my life, so if this project drags into next year, so be it. I honestly can't work any harder. Just look around you.


FOX TAIL (SUPER SECRET CODE NAME)
For my own records, I want to state that this business is moving forward quite rapidly, and that's all you're getting. Juice Seven, fucker.


COMING DOWN HAPPY
As promised, I have been putting my recently acquired instruments (see last news item for money shot) to very good use, and the evidence popped out not so long ago with the release of My Favourite Asian In The Whole World. You can read about it in far too much detail over at this CDH news item, but in summary: it worked not only as a birthday present for my lovely friend Reiko, but also as a pipe cleaner; the test run for the next batch of musical cookies I have been mustering for quite some time now. I learned a lot and I think it set me up in a very sexy position.
And that position is coming sooner than you think. There is a new EP around the corner, I swear without reservation that in September, it will be born. Because it’s almost done. It’s going to be called Fear of Telephones. And I like it.


THE FUNPOWDER PLOT
It seems the theme of 2014 has been BIG IMPOSSIBLE PROJECTS. An EP made from real instruments? Juice Nothing complete redesign still crawling along? Fox Tail? A novel? Etc? And the Plot is no different. The biggest thing we’ve ever done is in the works, and yet much like everything else, there is no end in sight. Once again, let's just sit in our favourite chairs and get comfy, because patience will be rewarded with a fucking smack in the face.
On a side note though: a Coming Down Happy video plan is actually being mapped out, perhaps this time it’s for real!


And finally, something YouTubey is coming, maybe even sooner than any of the above, and it’s unlike anything else I’ve ever been involved with (if I am even involved at all).
Lol, you guys must hate how many projects I talk about without even talking about them.

Go wash your dishes.
Jared

Wednesday 25 June 2014

Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli

There is a part of our brain called the orbitofrontal cortex, a fascinating piece of meat shoved immediately above our eyes, the best seat in the house. Its most predominant function is decisions-making, and as a result, has been credited as the catalyst for obsessive-compulsive disorder. I broke mine when I was about seventeen years old. I turned on my television and found myself surrounded by otherworldly creatures who crawled into my frontal lobe and made themselves at home. Spirited Away was its name, and even though the doctors assured me it was the ants I’d been snorting which had damaged my cortex, I am still convinced that this film is solely to blame for the mess I have become.

Ghibli grew into an obsession, and I felt compelled to watch every single one of the studio’s offerings, often forgetting to eat and sleep in the process. But I persevered despite family interventions, and am proud to announce that I did eventually see them all, and here we are. However, it only seemed appropriate to write this article now, especially due to the recent English release of The Wind Rises coupled with the announcement of Hayao Miyazaki’s retirement. While there is more than one talent behind the company, Miyazaki is unanimously agreed upon as the master of everything, and so it is only fitting that this piece lands at this very moment, mourning his abandonment and honouring the disfigurement he brought onto my mind. Furthermore, The Wind Rises marks the 20th of the Ghibli films (including Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind and Ocean Waves, excluding The Tale of Princess Kaguya as the English dub is yet to bless our eyeballs), which is such a lovely round number, I’m sure you agree.

However, before I begin my shamelessly over-gushing adoration for the so-called 'Walt Disney of Japan', please note the following:

THIS IS A WARNING: I’ve done my best to avoid spoilers at all costs, and I think you’ll be ok. I’d never give away the endings, and any specific details are kept vague enough as to only make sense once you view the relevant films. That said, there is always a small chance one or two minor details may slip through the reeds, softening some intended surprises or introducing characters you would have rather met yourself. And so if you are tempted to attempt the same mission I did, perhaps tiptoe through these pages a little more cautiously than usual.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 20. Whisper of the Heart

20. Whisper Of The Heart (1995)

Directed by Yoshifumi Kondō
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


When examining how everyone in the whole world adores this sentimental piece surrounding a 14 year old bookworm struggling to balance her writing passion with maintaining her grades (whilst reluctantly falling in love at the same time), it’s difficult to defend this definitive “worst” position. For despite reports that this realistic portrayal of young bittersweet romance was exclusively aimed at a female audience, Whisper of the Heart went on to effortlessly seduce all genders regardless of intent, an impressive feat for the first Ghibli to be directed by someone other than Miyazaki or Takahata (note: this was also Kondō’s only Ghibli, as he died of an aneurysm shortly afterwards). But personally ... it underwhelmed me. The plot never seemed to go anywhere, I felt no incentive to invest in the characters (except, of course, for the Baron, but that’s a different story...), and it lacked the fantasy elements which I have come to depend on the studio for (which should become even more evident as we go on). That said, perhaps its cute storytelling and safe execution will be your taste exactly (many claim this film as their favourite) but unfortunately it left me with nothing but boredom, resulting in my least favourite Ghibli ever. Sorry.

Key Scene: The fantasy sequence where Shizuku flies through floating land with the Baron is a lot of fun.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 19. My Neighbors the Yamadas

19. My Neighbors The Yamadas (1999)

Directed by Isao Takahata
Written by Isao Takahata


Now this is a weird one. For starters, it was Ghibli’s first 100% digitally animated film, yet was rendered to look more hand drawn than anything else in the studio’s catalogue, the purpose to mimic the style of Hisaichi Ishii’s newspaper comic strip (on which it was based). Furthermore, there isn’t really much of a plot here per se, rather a collection of humorous sketches revolving around everyday family situations and domestic affairs, such as losing a child in the department store or wrestling for the remote. In that regard, it is relatable as well as memorable in its differences, Takahata deserving much respect for risking the envelope’s expectations in the way he did so on this film (and others). But in the end, it is so far removed from the usual Ghibli magic that it hardly feels like a Ghibli whatsoever, even the best moments producing nothing more than a chuckle, and the characters (while quirky) falling as two-dimensional as the presentation itself. So my advice is to expect very little and then perhaps you will be entertained enough, but for the most part, it’s for completists only.

Key Scene: The sudden style change when Takashi confronts a motorbike gang is worth the watch alone.
Trademarks: The only Ghibli without any.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 18. Only Yesterday

18. Only Yesterday (1991)

Directed by Isao Takahata
Written by Isao Takahata


Primarily written for adult female audiences, Only Yesterday was a surprise box office success, attracting an even amount of attention from both sexes, and it’s easy to see why. The nostalgic flashbacks detailing the pains of growing up; the melancholy which comes with self realisation; and the desire to escape city life, were enough to warm hearts no matter which part of your age or gender related to these common emotions. It was about the simplicity yet significance of past memories, while discovering the depths of oneself which can only come to blossom within the soil of maturity, all realistically animated into magic without being magical, a technique only Ghibli has perfected so well. But even when taking this admiration on board (as well as appreciating that Disney refused to dub the film due to some menstruation dialogue), I couldn’t escape the feeling that this was nothing more than your typical Ghibli offering. It’s the blueprint of the studio’s coming of age love stories at its bare minimum and most transparent, and even though I genuinely enjoyed it, it refused to stick in my memory, and in that regard, fell far shorter than what I’ve come to expect from the team.

Key Scene: That pineapple bit is a defining moment of Ghibli’s subtle genius.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 17. Pom Poko

17. Pom Poko (1994)

Directed by Isao Takahata
Written by Isao Takahata


On paper, this is everything I love about Ghibli. Based on East Asian folklore, Pom Poko tells the whimsical tale of shapeshifting racoons, who utilise their powers for reasons of mischief whilst stomaching as much food as possible, satisfied to just laze around and have fun. That is, of course, until us humans threaten their land, and they are forced to use their special abilities to fight back. As predicted, it’s a humorous ride with a deep message, tripping you out whilst never settling on an animation style, ultimately resulting in a bizarre yet serious journey with an even more serious conclusion. It’s a traditional Japanese offering, a fairy tale-esque story, and did I mention it has BALLS? Like, seriously. Testicles everywhere, it’s weird. But even these testicles could not save Pom Poko’s dark preachiness from falling somewhat unfocused, as there are far too many characters to develop properly, and the whole thing feels a touch too slow. Of course, we must once again commend Takahata’s fearless attempts at doing something different, completely against Ghibli reputation (much more than Miyazaki would dare, anyway) but without some previous knowledge on the mythology, it’s a jumbled mess made up from eye candy and stretchy genitalia.

Key Scene: The mindblowing ghost parade is an achievement of modern animation.
Trademarks: Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 16. The Wind Rises

16. The Wind Rises (2013)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


Telling the fictionalised biography of aircraft designer Jiro Horikoshi, this bittersweet tale of triumph and loss echoed the end of Miyazaki himself, as this offering came with the announcement as his directorial finale. And, don’t get me wrong, as such a typical Hayao creation, it concluded his career poetically, presenting detailed imagery in his trademark dreamlike style, keeping the explosions gentle and the surreal humour accessible, all the while conveying the message of chasing one's dreams and keeping faith in love despite the odds. But even if everyone appreciated the sober and historical tragedy for what it was (winning many awards and much acclaim as it did so), I couldn’t escape the dark cloud of Miyazaki’s retirement overshadowing the film, leaving the disappointment of “is that it?” when the credits rolled. The characters are annoyingly thin (Jiro hardly exists), and all the overhyping neglected to mention the slow pace, challenging length, and perhaps the one film where Miyazaki’s aviation obsession went too far. The simpler style may have brought joy and the underlying darkness may have intrigued, but for his final say, I really wish the legendary director had said a little more.

Key Scene: The earthquake caused me much panic.
Trademarks: Aviation. Young love. War.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 15. From Up On Poppy Hill

15. From Up On Poppy Hill (2011)

Directed by Gorō Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki and Keiko Niwa


Standing as the first (and potentially only) true father and son Miyazaki collaboration, this simple yet heartfelt offering is all too often overlooked. But why? Let’s speculate. Perhaps it’s because Poppy Hill isn’t as fancy and mysterious as many of Ghibli’s superior works, maintaining a relaxed pace whilst masking the magic within regular emotions. Or perhaps it’s because it lacks any real conflict, as every (often bland) character is essentially a good person and there is no legitimate enemy for the audience to conspire against. Or perhaps, it’s because the entire storyline is based around incest. That’s right. Incest. And yet somehow, this incest seems okay. It doesn’t ruin the vibe and you find yourself almost rooting for it, which brings up far too many personal questions and once again proves the mastery of this studio’s ability to control you. Yet even when considering said incest; the ability to recognise wonders in mundanity (the whole film is about repairing a clubhouse); the clean atmospheric animation; the sadness; goals; hopes; and dreams ... it is perhaps a little too slow and empty as whole, and probably best enjoyed by true Ghiblis only.

Key Scene: When Umi first enters the haphazard eccentric clubhouse.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age. War.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 14. Kiki's Delivery Service

14. Kiki's Delivery Service (1989)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


I am a little hesitant to admit that, on many levels, I consider Kiki’s to be the centerpoint of the Ghibli Universe. As a unique premise about a 13 year old witch who uses her skills to deliver baked goods, it ticks every box, from the fantasy elements to the coming of age lessons and all the warm young love squashed between. And despite being intended for a more child orientated audience, it still has enough adult appeal lightly sprinkled over the top to amuse all of us, analysing the hardships of adolescence without shying from the imagination only a fiction world could grant, and (perhaps the most impressive aspect) not relying on Kiki’s powers to mystify or carry the tale alone. But even if the characters are charming, the storyline is cute, and the conservative Christian group boycotted its screening based on witchcraft themes, it fell perhaps a touch too far over the kiddie line for me. The plot felt a bit harmless and safe to be completely memorable in my leaky mind, and as a result, the rare 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes serves only to overrate the thing a little higher than Kiki can carry it. But watch it anyway.

Key Scene: The heroic blimp save.
Trademarks: Aviation. Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 13. Porco Rosso

13. Porco Rosso (1992)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


All things considered, Porco Rosso is fairly cheesy. Its lesson-less execution relies heavily on energetic action-packed sequences and in that regard, is impossible to work out just who the target audience is supposed to be. But even when considering these flaws, the thrill is carried by the main character alone, Porco himself. Once an Italian World War fighter ace, now a freelance bounty hunter, Porco lives on a desert island awaiting contract jobs to chase air pirates, all the while having to deal with a pesky curse which has transformed him into an anthropomorphic pig. Surreal enough for you? But even if this spell is never explained, Porco is hardly ashamed of his disfigurement—on the contrary, he works with it, maintaining just enough charisma and smugness to keep the ladies falling head over heels for him, and his reputation badass. It may be an exercise in indulging Miyazaki's obsessions (feminist ideals, anti-fascist undertones, aviation overload) but nothing detracts from the overall sense of humour which rides high right until the very end where questions are left unanswered and talks of a sequel have run wild ever since. When pigs fly though, am I right, guys?

Key Scene: The final duel is fantastic.
Trademarks: Aviation. War.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 12. Ocean Waves

12. Ocean Waves (1993)

Directed by Tomomi Mochizuki
Written by Saeko Himuro


What’s most interesting about this realistic classroom drama is how hardly anyone even knows it exists, Ghibli fanatics included. However, if you are one of the guilty parties, don’t feel too bad, as it was never a large cinema production, but rather a straight to television film created by the studio’s younger staff members, armed solely with the instruction to make something “quickly, cheaply, and with quality”. The fact that it ran well over budget and schedule probably didn’t please the masters, but what I will commend the students on above all else is this: they managed to depict one of the most memorable female leads in a company famous for their female leads. Telling the flashback tale of a love triangle between two buddies and a self entitled young lady named Rikako, it is this girl alone who steals the show, with her arrogant spontaneity and disregard to destroying the boys’ friendship, somehow as likeable as she is unlikeable. Just focus on the complex high school politics she drags behind her, ignore critics who call it ‘aimless’, and then perhaps you’ll understand why this is my favourite coming of age Ghibli above them all.

Key Scene: The spoilt brat manner in which Rikako treats Taku after he slept in the bath all night.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 11. Arrietty

11. Arrietty (2010)

Directed by Hiromasa Yonebayashi
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


Ghibli discussions about adapting Mary Norton’s The Borrowers had reportedly existed for around 40 years, so it’s nice that when it finally blessed our screens, it received a standing ovation from critics and fans around the globe, going on to break the all-time Japanese record for theater attendance (7.5 million) for a first time director, Hiromasa Yonebayashi. And even if the classic 'tiny people secretly living under your floorboards and within your walls stealing your food' plot was slightly too childish for my decrepit bones, I still have to appreciate how such an adorable and friendly premise would crawl into a kid’s imagination and show them their own world from this new, sweeter perspective. It flows naturally, it interacts intimately, it shines brightly (arguably the best coloured Ghibli in their catalogue), and it teaches us the importance of loving all creatures, great and small. Like the Borrowers themselves, this film proves you don’t need to be loud to captivate a heart.

Key Scene: When the very memorable (and ugly) house maid Haru captures her first Borrower.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 10. Ponyo

10. Ponyo (2008)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


As some weird take on The Little Mermaid, this breathtaking Miyazaki is not without its problems. The focus on eye candy (the film consisting of 170,000 separate drawings, reportedly a Ghibli record) took priority over the plot, and as a result, Ponyo looks much better than it’s paced, leaving the story somewhat vague, blinded by its own spotlight visuals. But, damn, it does look good. The carefree plot is shined until it dazzles, naturally centered around a magical goldfish and her desire to be human, presented in such a precious manner that your inner child will dominate, excited for no real reason and delighted by this glowing tale of friendship against all odds. Not to mention, the characters are superb: the mother is likeable and authentic; Ponyo (whose name is an onomatopoeia for what "squishy softness" sounds like according to Miyazaki, uhm) is borderline creepy with her contorting face and unhealthy love of ham; and the magnificent ocean comes across like a character all by itself. Fill in any gaps with the warmth of love, and here is yet another unreal peculiar Ghibli for you to drown yourself in. And besides, how often do you hear a boy/fish love story anyway?

Key Scene: Driving against the waves with Ponyo running beside the car? Epic.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love. Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 09. The Cat Returns

09. The Cat Returns (2002)

Directed by Hiroyuki Morita
Written by Reiko Yoshida


Originally conceived as a theme park installment, this underrated film is a spin-off of Whisper of the Heart, and (as a fan of Ghibli’s more delusional personality) is far superior in my opinion. Featuring the ever popular Baron character (as well as the fat Muta cat) from the aforementioned coming of age bore, here we have a vastly different whimsical tale surrounding the loveable Haru and her ability to talk to felines; her adventures into the secret cat kingdom; and her struggle against arranged interspecies marriages. If that loony premise wasn’t already as tempting as catnip, let the action packed execution do the rest, as you ride this vibrant journey through surreal worlds at such a frantic pace that you’ll reach the end in no time, short of breath and ready to go again. Sure, others fairly dismiss The Cat Returns as lacking depth, but that was never the point. And sure, it feels a tad throwaway, but even this is refreshing, as it is an effortless watch, opting to use humour rather than relying on some deep moral message to win your vote. Take Spirited Away, feed it a Ritalin/Prozac cocktail, and here is the result.

Key Scene: Hundreds of cats flocking to Haru’s house.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 08. Tales from Earthsea

08. Tales From Earthsea (2006)

Directed by Gorō Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki (concept)


Maybe the vicious critical backlash drastically lowered my expectations, but I genuinely loved Tales from Earthsea, and am here to vigorously defend the 'worst Ghibli ever'. It's important to note this as Hayao Miyazaki’s son’s debut, and following in such legendary footsteps is obviously impossible—these expectations were unfair. You try adapt four books into one solid storyline with that pressure hanging over your pencil. The unanimous resistance which followed was unwarranted (original author Le Guin publicly expressing her disappointment, and father Miyazaki refusing to speak to his son during its production) even when considering the odd execution and loose ends. Perhaps the plot isn’t very clear, but it’s a concentrated Tolkien-esque fantasy, far too violent for your typical Ghibli audience, yet animated as fantastic as any other. Perhaps it’s a bit messy and confusing, an overly ambitious attempt at imitating his father's style, but it’s still very competent even in comparisons. Personally, I see something deeper here, and I wish Gorō would continue to develop this style until it became his own, but imagining how such a negative reaction probably wrecked his confidence, I doubt he will. Just please remember: we rely on this guy to keep the legacy going, so give him some space.

Key Scene: Cob’s insanity deteriorating his face was well scary.
Trademarks: Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 07. Howl's Moving Castle

07. Howl's Moving Castle (2004)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


Despite excelling as one of the studio’s most well-known animations (and for good reason), Howl’s Moving Castle has not altogether escaped some rejection. It has been called 'overrated', 'lengthy', and 'incomplete', none of which I disagree with. However, what these critics have failed to worship, is some of the most imaginative Ghibli characters ever created, not to mention the sheer volume of them. Remember: the helpful Turnip Head; Heen the asthmatic dog; the revolting Witch of the Waste; Calcifer the comedic fire; the dynamic steampunk castle itself; and, of course, Howl with his charming flamboyance and eccentric insecurities. Even the 18 year old Sophie is a complicated and memorable addition, changing ages as she confidently leads the delightful adventure, empowering young female viewers in her stride (an obvious intention by her very design). So, naturally, it should come as no surprise that with such a daunting cast, there wasn’t all that much time to develop each character properly, but while the heartfelt journey may be muddled, it’s never boring, and is yet just another perfect movie for kids and adults alike. Watch this one twice.

Key Scene: A tough one (the end destruction is a pinnacle of modern animation, in my opinion), but the struggle up the staircase is the kind of scene only Miyazaki could pull off without being dull; the archetypal Ghibli magic which turns the ordinary to extraordinary.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 06. My Neighbor Totoro

06. My Neighbor Totoro (1988)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


For many people, ‘Ghibli’ means ‘Totoro’, as this was not only the film which jump started Miyazaki’s career, but was also a key influence in spreading Japanese animation around the world. And while the gentle pace didn't initially fair very well, it eventually exploded thanks to the release of cuddly Totoro dolls, one of the company’s greatest character achievements (yet still second to Catbus), continuing to stand as Ghibli’s mascot to this very day. But it’s not all about the peaceful, mystical forest animals, but rather the two girls’ curiosity as they are forced to come to terms with the realities of life when their mother falls seriously ill in the hospital and their upbeat dad is left to raise them by himself. And yet even while this aura of death follows the plot around, it also exposes the wonders and warmth of our earthly experiences, revealing mystery and fantasy without conflict or suspense, a different formula-less approach in comparison to some of the studio’s similar projects. As almost any critic with a heart will agree, this is essential viewing whether you know Ghibli or not, encouraging the growth of children vicariously through the hope of these characters, which is pretty profound for something so simple.

Key Scene: The bus stop spectacle is the epitome of trademark Ghibli subtleties, an almost everyday occurrence with nothing significantly spectacular about it, yet somehow delivered with a hyperactivity of magic beneath.
Trademarks: Strong female lead(s). Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 05. Grave of the Fireflies

05. Grave Of The Fireflies (1988)

Directed by Isao Takahata
Written by Isao Takahata


Released at the same time as Totoro, Grave of the Fireflies was the less successful of the two, but ultimately the more intense and memorable, even if the contrast leaves them utterly incomparable. In a sentence: this is the most depressing film I’ve ever seen. It tells the heartbreaking tale of two siblings’ desperate struggle to survive after World War 2, shattering audiences by building family bonds in the face of grim devastation, all very timeless and unpleasant and ughhh. Even the colouring gives us the sense of poverty and starvation, Takahata opting to use brown outlines rather than the customary black (the first of any anime to do so) which accentuated the misery to the point of making me want to vomit. I mean, it was never supposed to be easy to watch the suffering of little children, and as a result, is not made for children whatsoever unless you want them to cry until their eyes dissolve within the tears. Which is why this is probably the most unusual and distinctive of all the Ghiblis, disregarding the company’s trademarks, shunning all magic and losing all hope, whilst smearing a dark stain on your innocence.

Key Scene: Too many, but when Seita pours water in Setsuko’s fruit drops tin? That stood out as one beautiful and painful moment to me.
Trademarks: Coming of age. War.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 04. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

04. Nausicaä Of The Valley Of The Wind (1984)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


According to some, this entry shouldn’t even qualify. Its release predates the studio’s conception, so what does it matter if it’s frequently praised as a benchmark in the development of anime? Who cares if its primitive yet futuristic departure from traditional storytelling preaches to us the moral of living in harmony with nature, even if that nature is writhing with aggressive insects the size of houses? What is the point of illustrating the message of how fear breeding violence may mean the ultimate destruction of man, but we can still use pacifism as a weapon to balance spiritual harmony without giving up on hope during the struggle of war? How is it relevant that I consider this to be the teenage version of Princess Mononoke, perhaps less colourful, but just as as perfect? None of this appreciation counts! Because it’s unofficial! It’s not a true Ghibli! How dare I add it in here! But then you learn that the studio doesn’t ignore it either, proudly including the film in their own box sets, this very act making it official, as not only their very first feature, but as one of their bests. Its success also lead to the foundation of Studio Ghibli itself, so show some respect.

Key Scene: Nausicaä’s taming of the mutant insect from the plane wreckage kind of sums the whole film up.
Trademarks: Aviation. Strong female lead. Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 03. Laputa: Castle In The Sky

03. Laputa: Castle In The Sky (1986)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


As the first official release from the company, this Gulliver's Travels inspired masterpiece completes every trademark criteria on Ghibli’s report card. Telling the coming of age story about a young boy and girl who are racing against pirates to locate a legendary floating castle, it’s overflowing with action packed sequences and magical crystals without shying away from their signature sense of humour or their classic moral lessons, teaching against greed and power and war and other such bad things that bad people do. Not to mention the steampunk design is probably the most impressively executed from the studio to this very date, the Laputan robots alone standing as one of the greatest character designs in the Ghibli arsenal, easily. It’s no wonder, then, that in an 80,000 strong audience poll, Castle in the Sky was the second highest-ranked animated film ever, and currently holds a 94% 'Fresh' rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

Key Scene: I know it’s a weird choice, but when all the pirates fall over themselves to help Sheeta clean the kitchen always tickles me (although the destruction of the fortress is probably a more reasonable inclusion).
Trademarks: Aviation. Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 02. Princess Mononoke

02. Princess Mononoke (1997)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


I consider this to be the film Miyazaki always intended to make, yet the only time he managed to nail it so perfectly. It’s the pinnacle of the man vs. nature fantasy theme which runs rampant throughout his works, yet his other attempts are not nearly as potent, before or since. For while, say, Totoro or Nausicaä or Arrietty told similar stories about humans coexisting with our ecosystem (all featuring mythical creatures running around for good measure, of course), they still never achieved it quite so ... massively. The complexities of each Mononoke character blurs the line between good and evil; the forest animals are far more earth-based than most other Ghiblis, which gives them an even larger godlike presence (for they are, in fact, gods); the attention to dramatic visuals are as heavy as they are breathtaking (Miyazaki personally oversaw each of the film’s 144,000 cells, redrawing parts of 80,000 of them); and its ambitious length is intimidating, yet sustainable thanks to the inventive violence, action packed pacing, and adult themes of sexuality and disability—all with a heartfelt filling of moral integrity, just in case you were in need of some education. It took a few watches, but eventually, Mononoke became my favourite Ghibli of all time. Well, almost...

Key Scene: The epic Forest Spirit looking for its head.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Ecological/Man vs. Nature.


Worst To Best: Studio Ghibli: 01. Spirited Away

01. Spirited Away (2001)

Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Written by Hayao Miyazaki


And this is it: not only the best Ghibli ever, but the best movie ever. Intended for a 10 year old female audience, this proved to be the ideal target market for Miyazaki to play with, because while it remains ‘safe for children’, it does not shy away from the darkness, as our loveable Chihiro races through the strange (often terrifying) bathhouse of spirits, trying to break the pig curse placed on her parents and find her way back home. And don’t forget the characters! A giant baby! Bouncing heads! Paper men armies! Adorable dust bunnies! Witches with faces the size of your body! That thing in the elevator! And literally hundreds more! But nothing can beat the disturbing No-Face, a complex lonely spirit who adapts the personalities of whoever he consumes, arguably the greatest character invention of all time. Which is why Spirited Away will always be remembered as Ghibli’s most defining, essential piece, and not only because it’s the most successful film in Japanese history or the studio’s first Oscar winner, but because it’s a modern day classic comparable to Alice in Wonderland, allowing the viewer to go as deep as they want to regardless of age. And that’s simply perfect.

Key Scene: That No-Face chase is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.
Trademarks: Strong female lead. Young love. Coming of age.

Wednesday 28 May 2014

Clean Birth

by Jared Woods

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - I guess the first thing I noticed was the ground beneath my bare feet.
I guess the first thing I noticed was the ground beneath my bare feet. It was about two meters wide and covered in a light mossy substance, yet still cold and hard, as bald patches betrayed a metal surface thinly disguised underneath. Even more curiously, this floor was moving forward slowly, casually propelling me towards an unknown destination, and this unnerved me. The words 'conveyor belt' flashed in my mind and I recognised the state of my own nudity, even if this had absolutely no definition for me.

I looked up and I was alone. A barely audible whirling noise vibrated beneath my ears and the word 'machinery' seemed appropriate. On either side of me there was nothing but endless white space, this platform suspended in an infinite emptiness, yet when I reached out towards it, my fingers hit what appeared to be a thick wall of transparent ... plastic? Glass? I could never know. It looked nice enough, and yet ... fake, in a way? Something didn’t seem right about it, as if it was an illusion, intended to look pleasant, but ultimately a cover up for a much more clinical reality. I pressed my nose against the surface and smelt gas until my eyes hurt. Despite the clean whiteness which appeared to extend forever, from this close up position I could distinctly detect greens and reds and blues which darted around my vision, and I quickly pulled back before I vomited.

As if some 'utensil' had been shoved into the part of my body I associated with my 'gut', all these weird uncertain emotions swirled within my core. Terms like 'fear' and 'panic' presented themselves to my mind, which brought nothing but further unknowns. I looked upwards for answers and noticed small panels about the size of my head fixed to the transparent walls a few feet above me, giving the deceptive impression that they were floating mid-air as they gradually passed me by, each set some distance apart whilst flickering images of what I understood to be 'flowers' and 'water' and other such pretty visuals. The inner cogs of my mind worked as if they knew there was something I was supposed to know, but there was nothing inside of me. Thoughts were things which I had quickly become acquainted with, but they could not tell me anything except for single words, like an empty dictionary void of explanations. But even that simile which my own mind had put forward in a show-off type manner, meant nothing. None of this meant anything.

My so-called head began to vibrate from an external source, and I associated this with a 'sound'; a 'noise'. And this was when things got even worse. Originally there had been this friendly vague concept of 'peace' which was now disrupted by this said 'noise', and I loathed these new ideas, as they coincided with the realisation that I was no longer alone.

Far from it, in fact. In this moment, I looked around, and concluded I was short in stature; a disadvantage in comparison to those who had suddenly appeared before me. This applied in particular to what could only be defined as a grotesque, oversized, elderly female seal creature immediately in front of me, her height towering many feet above mine. She was so large that the wet whiskers which drooped from her cheeks nearly dangled in line with my forehead, her head so hefty that it was wider than my entire body, and her eyes so spacious and high above me that she didn’t even notice I was there.

She slapped her fins into the moss, giddy with excitement, water dripping down her chin and coating a white pearl necklace in slime. She rolled on her stomach, side to side, as if she was on fire, sparkling earrings seemingly pierced into the side of her head dancing with her movements, a shining mess of excessive jewellery and horrifically wrinkled flaps of fat and skin. And each time she rocked from one side to the other (performing an atrocious bark while she did so, I may add), a salty stench of sewage wafted into my gag reflexes at which my eyes watered furiously, only just able to make out an endless set of assorted legs and tails and feet extending for miles behind her. There were a lot of bodies here, all behaving in the exact same animated style, dancing around naked, unabashedly delirious and enthusiastic. It was an upsetting sight, but nothing upset me more than the fact that I could not register exactly what these things were; the hyperactivity of noise and electrified atmosphere meant nothing to me. I had no ability to fathom what was happening or how I even knew the words for these things, as if my mind was begging for answers and yet my brain teased it, providing no response to its requests.

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - This went in particular for what could only be defined as a grotesque, oversized, elderly female seal creature who was immediately in front of me.
“Oh my Lawdie Lawdie, oh my Gawd, oh my Gaaaawd!” this elderly seal before me was articulating, and I looked closer to examine her weathered leather-like face bursting with brown glee as she frantically searched for someone to notice her without noticing me.

“Yes, it’s quite something, isn’t it?” a croaky voice over-pronounced from behind me, and I cautiously turned my head to notice a male human figure had been at my back this whole time. He, too, was of an older appearance, but seemed much healthier in a way; tufts of messy hair exposing his baldness, smooth skin, and a tall demeanour (yet still significantly shorter than the seal), all of which I enjoyed and associated with 'handsome'. Square cheeks were outlined by dimples and age crevices, eyes withered with fatigue but exploded with wisdom, and not to mention the almost comically sized grey moustache he sported, punctuating the center, so bushy and predominant that it hid his mouth and chin whilst its two end tails stretched beyond the level of his naval. But, my word, how did I know these things? Dimples? Moustache? Naval? What was this place? What was I?!

Regardless, the male’s composure was engrossing. His excitement was far less apparent than that of the seal’s, but the rise in his cheeks indicated a giant grin, flaunting his equal approval of this party. His body may have been worn by the years, but even with these physical casualties of age (complete with a slight protruding belly and small liver spots dotting his chest), his nudity revealed strong arms and a wide torso, standing in perfect posture, proud of its shape. I glanced through his hairy legs to note that, much like behind the giant seal, countless other body parts danced for miles beyond him, a single file queue on this noisy floating conveyor belt, suggesting I had been standing in my position for a very long time, perhaps even years.

“So, please do tell, madam,” he continued his posh conversation with the seal as if long lost friends, still oblivious to my presence. “What is the last thing you can recall?”
“Awh, awh!” the old seal barked to his attention, still acting out her hysterical belly dance as if she was half her age. “Well, let m’see here. I think mus’ ‘av gone on m’way ta bed on m’old rock a mile out o’ Practice Beach, y’know the one? I mus’ve been 85 years ol' if a day, m’thinks, a complete natural death, y’mus’ understand, no foul play or nuttin’, but ... awh! I’s very lonely, I’ll admit. I mean, I had m’grandchildren but they were always the busy type, very important creatures they were, but I forgot about ... about this! Oh Lawdie, how’d I always forget about this place here, every time I be forgettin’, but I knew it all along, didn’t I? Such a obvious thing, isn’t it? So great, so ... oh my Gawdddd!

She kept jabbering on, using words I understood without fully knowing how, with the exception of the word 'death'. Its very sound produced a hollow confusion in my abdomen, and I felt my curiosity once again override itself with 'fear'. This was not a nice feeling. A plastic wall to my right spluttered for a split second, and through the disruption I noted a glimpse of mechanical workings surrounding me before they were once again replaced by the serene image of endless whiteness. Above, the small panels now displayed videos of wide toothy smiles and terms like 'happiness' and 'calm', but I could not escape the devastating perception that none of these details applied to me. I didn’t belong here. Who were these people? Who was I? Why did I have such a definite grasp on all of these things without a single point of reference within my internal dialogue? And I guess you can only talk to yourself for so long before the frustration takes control, because without my consent, a small female voice bubbled up my throat and dove out for answers.

“Excuse me,” I scared myself. “Can someone please tell me just what is going on here?!”
The cheekbones of the man lowered as his gaze fell upon me. The excited movement of the seal lady hesitated as her expression focused on my presence. And there we stood for an uncomfortable amount of time, as if I’d just sworn against their God (whatever the hell that meant), exhausting me with more embarrassment and frustration.

The seal was the first to respond. She leant forward on her veiny flippers which seemed a little less veiny than before, and placed her chin to the ground, almost managing to align her enormous black eyes with mine as I turned to face her. “Hey there, li’l gal,” she addressed me, as her salty breath blew over me like a corpse wind. “And how’s it that you died?”

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - She leant forward on her veiny flippers which seemed a little less veiny than before, and placed her chin to the ground, almost managing to align her enormous black eyes with mine.
The word 'died' once again had no meaning, but the aura that resonated around it could have only been of the 'death' variation. She stared lovingly into my eyes, waiting for an answer, and I felt nauseous, now wishing I’d never opened my mouth. Something inwards felt foolish, all too aware that I was supposed to know the answer to her question, and yet nothing was inside of me. I mouthed a few silent vowels in an attempt to get anything out—anything at all—but I could not.

“C’mon, sweetie. We’re all here together now, don’t be shy, y’hear?” she pried. “What’s the last thing you can remember, child?” Her cracked facial expression lead by her grey whiskers and huge snout stared down at me with a hint of apprehension, and she looked a little bit younger now, somehow. And there I stood, gulping at the air like a fish, but what did I have to say? And what was a fish?

My useless attempt at vocalising my thoughts was interrupted when two large hands fell on my shoulders and gently massaged me. I looked upwards to see the face of the elderly man at my back, and while his smile had only recently warmed my observations, his touch now made me feel rigid and uncomfortable. When he spoke, his breath brushed the base of my neck and I suddenly hated him. “Speak, little girl. Pray do tell, how was it that you have come to die?”

“I don’t know what that means!” I shouted as I squirmed out of his grip. “I don’t know what any of this means! Who are you people?! Where am I?!

My scream echoed, rippling out into eternal space, and I could see many figures in the distance cease their celebration to take note of my outburst. Great, more attention, which only got much worse after the stupid elderly seal gasped with the following cry:

“Oh my Gawd, could it be? Could this here gal be ... a Clean Birth? Well, I ain’t never seen a Clean Birth before! Guess she’ll be about the right size, if I ‘ad a think about it...”
With those words, a whole audience clamoured towards and practically closed in on me, a hundred depths of eyes examining me like a team of surgeons. The excited voices rose like before, but now as delirious murmurs, inaudible phrases smothering me, with only the frequent mutter of “Clean Birth, Clean Birth” detectable.

“Stand back! Stand back, I say! You’re scaring her, for Pete’s sake!” the man behind me demanded authority, and his strict voice appeared to make an impact. Many observers obeyed by turning their sides to us, pretending to converse with one another whilst still maintaining a keen corner of an eye upon me. It was annoying and awkward, yet still an improvement. With that, the elderly man gently turned me around to face him, placing his hands on my shoulders again, his left thumb resting on my breast which I somehow knew wasn’t right. He crouched to my level, his face close to mine, and while his dimples were still apparent and the ends of his feathery moustache touched the floor, the lines on his face looked shallower than they had been only moments ago. I felt the urge to spit into his eyes but he halted my thought process by addressing me in a quieter manner, speaking much more sense in the midst of the chaos.

“Please do talk with me, little one. Before this place you see here, do have any memories? Is this platform where you stand now, the only place you can ever recall standing? Do you have a name? Do you even know what this means?”

“No!” I cried from clenched teeth. “I know what nothing means! I remember nothing! I was just here all of a sudden and I have absolutely no idea why! What is happening? Who are you people?!”

“This one’s a Clean Birth here, alright!” the seal lady announced, and the surrounding crowd in the audible distance nearly responded with a cheer, until the man shot a dirty look upwards to silence them. This gave me a chance to shift my position, his thumb no longer on my chest which I recognised as an undeveloped area due to my 'age', and also wondered why it bothered me so? It was whatever his intentions were, I decided, and vaguely became aware that I didn't like this man, yet there was no point in turning away. He was more than likely the only one who could help me grasp this mess, I was certain of it.

“Darling little girl,” he began my education. “Where you are now, is an extraordinary place indeed. For this is a place between places—the bridge, if you will—which connects the end with the beginning. For you see, it is here where we—you, me, her, and everyone around you—have our energy reorganised and washed clean, our defining characteristics and experiences labeled and neatly packaged within us, assigning qualities and worth to our Source before we are ready to be once more released back onto our planet.”

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - With that, the elderly man gently turned me around to face him, placing his hands on my shoulders again, his left thumb resting on my breast which I somehow knew wasn’t right.
“It is a fascinating procedure, sweetheart, and in order to comprehend its complexities, you must recognise the two aspects of which make up all of life: Birth and Death. Me, myself, for example, have died and been reborn no less than 137 times.”

“137 times!” the elderly seal interrupted. “This here be only m’29th time, it is! Firstly, I can recall I was a pottery makin’ bacteria livin’ in a poverty stricken river, fairly dull life if y'ask me, m’death that of a working accident, silly fool I was, then after that I believe I was a wife of a Sky Prince, oooh, we were so important him and me were, royalty and all that, such a time, the best life yet, I think, and after that I...”

“Silence, please, madam,” the man raised his hand. “We are in the presence of a Clean Birth, have some courtesy.” The old seal quickly held her gigantic tongue, and the man took back my attention by looking into my face once more, his moustache measurably smaller than it was before, the ends now far from tickling the moss.

“You notice this moving ground beneath us?” he continued. “Where this is headed, is a spectacular plain we like to call ‘Earth’. This ‘Earth’ is an incredible location, one which breathes more births and deaths above any other place we are aware of. These two factors are certainties in all individuals who enter the world, and in conjunction with the countless experiences which come between them, is what we define as 'Life'. It is everything; sometimes beautiful and happy, other times rather difficult and scary, but always bursting with opportunities. Different lands to explore, people to love, thoughts to think and develop—but all of which is waiting for us at the end of this here moving platform.”

By the time his talk had trailed off at the last word, he sighed and his eyes dropped towards the floor. It was here now I realised my face was tense, scrunched into a contorted mess to echo my confusion. All of this was too much, I could hardly get my head around what this had to do with me and my being here, and I guess this showed more than I’d intended it to, my suspicions confirmed when the seal piped up her opinion with “I ain’t sure there’s no easy way to explain this to nobody, not a Clean Birth, fo’sure”. The man raised his hand without raising his eyes, and tried again.

“Let me put this another way for you, child. In a rather short time, the pure energy which you are made up of right now alongside with all the other energies you see around you here—like this lady or me—will be summoned by Life, which is ushered in by the simple act of a male’s seed and a female’s counterpart egg, connecting as one. When this happens, we will leave these grounds to be grown inside of what is called 'a womb'; like a home which develops a physical shell around the very energy you feel now. Once this shell has sufficiently trapped the data which you carry with you, in conjunction with some brand new genetical data based on those who had unintentionally called upon you, then and only then will your new Life be ready for release into the world—this place called ‘Earth’. Once free from the womb, you will find yourself open and willing to capture as much knowledge as you can, not for yourself, mind you, but as a researcher for the Universal Consciousness, a bank of knowledge which is used to connect and develop all things that exist and continue to exist in every possible realm. This shall continue until you have reached your full potential, and once at that point, you will ultimately be destroyed on a physical level, ready to be recycled once more, placed back on this platform for the preparation of yet another Life. Do you understand me so far?”

I thought I did, sort of, but the idea scared me. I had no concept of this Earth place, or what my mission would entail, and I told the man so. “It hardly seems fair,” I challenged. “I will surely be at a disadvantage if what you say is true. You remember 137 deaths? And yet I cannot recall a single one! How will I know where to begin? What kind of a mission will this be if I have no idea how to achieve it? Oh, please, help me, Mr Man! What am I supposed to do?”

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - To this the everyone laughed, including those bystanders who were pretending not to listen, which gave me a fright and I hated it.
To this the everyone laughed, including those bystanders who were pretending not to listen, which gave me a fright and I hated it. The surrounding screens too popped with inanimate photos of laughing children and fireworks (perhaps an annoying show just for me?) and even the old man chuckled in my face. That is, except he didn’t look that old anymore. Rather, he appeared to be very different than when we first met, which I found comforting in a peculiar way. His moustache was now a messy fistful of hair barely overflowing his chin and the former cracks to the side of his eyes were just surface lines, scarcely noticeable.

“Do not fear yourself with such things, little one, as I will explain. For rest assured, once your energy has been called upon and you are placed within the womb I spoke of, you will find yourself inside of a being you will come to understand as your mother, inside of her stomach, right here,” he paused to tap a finger on my belly, as if I didn’t already have a definition for that word. “As I told you, it is there where your new physical form shall develop until you are ripe enough to escape, and when this time comes, you, like all of us, will be consuming Earth for the very first time from those particular set of physical eyes. The experience may be traumatic, but soon you will learn to adore your new surroundings and adapt to the strange new feelings. You will find your mind bombarded with smells and emotions, all of which will confuse and overwhelm you, but even more so, will fascinate and invigorate you, as you start to grasp the physics of the unfamiliar world. And it is during this time that the memory of this place you stand now will begin to fade and ultimately disappear. The moss you stand on, the hum you hear, the conversation we are having, and the memories of any past lives shall be pushed deep inside of your energy data, quick to clear room for the new Earthly environment, ensuring you can make sense of it without obstacles.”

“So you see, whilst past lives may develop characteristics within your Source which may dictate aspects of your lives to follow, it does not matter whether you’ve died a million times or if you are a Clean Birth, such as yourself. Essentially, we all enter each new life free from the past and at the exact same vantage point, no matter how unfair it may initially appear.”

During this speech, I began to take in-depth note of the man’s face. His moustache was all but gone except for a few tiny bristles, and while hints of his previous features were still apparent, he was a much plainer version of his former self. The pupils of his eyes had been lost in new black craters which filled the majority of his head, while his recently exposed smile had shrunk into an almost lipless straight line, curled upwards into his grey skin to still indicate happiness. Even more peculiar was that of his stature, which had shrunk significantly, now almost at the same height as mine. I glanced backwards quickly at the elderly seal lady for affirmation, but she too had changed at a very similar rate, her body a weird disproportionate shape as if stuck somewhere between that of a seal and a human, her age indeterminate, her skin now much lighter in colour and smoother in texture. She smiled, and her mouth was no longer an abysmal pit towering above me, but rather a warped crack almost in line with my eyebrows. Her decreased size meant my view was much less obstructed, and I could clearly see behind her where stood rows and rows of almost the exact same creature; once an assorted mix of varied looking animals, now developing and settling into a much more default and uniform state. Yet they seemed not to notice, as they continued to bounce from foot to foot, no longer concerned with the fascination they once held for me, jittery in conversation, reaching higher pitches of fever.

Logically, one would assume such a sight would scare me, but curiously the contrary was true. My stomach churned with enthusiastic anticipation and I felt static flutter outward from my core right down into my fingertips, like I was covered in a blanket made from spider webs and pins, and for a change I felt euphoric without even knowing what that was. My breaths pulled in deep and with each one I sank further into love with the uncertainty. I began to giggle and, almost as if on cue, laughter erupted from these grey beings all around me, in unison.

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - I could see clearly behind her where stood rows and rows of almost the exact same creature; once an assorted mix of varied looking animals, now developing and settling into a much more default and uniform state.
“It’s really something, isn’t it?” asked the once elderly man as he continued to smile. “It won’t be long now.” To this I laughed even louder, astounded that a few mere moments before I had found this man’s demeanour intimidating and even sexual, but now he pulsed with love and I reciprocated by beaming my smile towards him. What was I thinking? Nothing could threaten me. Nothing could disconcert me. And yet, even in these moments of bliss and acceptance, I still wanted more answers.

“But wait, mister,” I addressed him though my giddiness. “What exactly is a Clean Birth? What makes me one? Is it because I have no memories?”

The man stood upright and was only a few inches taller than me, as he placed his long grey fingers on his protruding belly and gave off a high pitched shriek of glee. “Oh, because you are very special, little friend!” he exclaimed. “It’s a simple program, really. For once a life has reached its natural conclusion on Earth and passed out of that realm, most end back in this place we stand right now. This wonderful place! But not all of them. Some energies have lived such fantastic lives that they are sent to areas much more advanced than this one, where their Source will be used for a greater purpose, you understand? Conversely, there are those who have built up so much nastiness in their lifetimes that their soul will forever remain imprinted by evil, and are no longer fit to be granted access to this place ever again, damned to an eternity where their soul shall be quarantined in much darker regions. Can you imagine? Never coming here again? Oh!”

At some point during this explanation I had glanced down to notice my own body had too turned to a light shade of grey. My fingers were much longer and bonier than before, and my stomach had bloated. In front of me, the man no longer looked anything like his former self, nor could I recall what he’d looked like before. Rather, what stood in front of me was the same height as myself; completely bald, two huge black holes for eyes, filled with love, and two pin-pricked nostrils underlined by a thin, barely moveable mouth. His head was almost the size of his torso, which was decorated with bulging ribs and a large belly. What’s more, behind him stood an endless row of creatures identical to him in every minute detail. It was here, I concluded, I myself must look exactly like these people too (special, my ass!), and this made me laugh even louder, which the formerly old man took as a response to his story, which he eagerly resumed.

“But you! You Clean Birth! You are brand spanking new! You are untouched! For you see, every time a soul is deemed unfit for this reproduction—whether for reasons of greater purpose or damnation—the system must be regulated. There must always be a specific amount of energy limited to Earth and it must always remain the same. And that’s where you come in, young one. A pristine soul, free of past experiences and memories, ripe for your very first leap into physical manifestation, fresh energy to fill the gap left behind by a Source which no longer qualifies for reincarnation. Isn’t that exciting? The very energy you feel and the very energy you are, is only now beginning its journey of eternal and infinite realms of rebirths and deaths! I recall my first round fondly, and, oh, am I so jealous! I do wish terribly I could be here for your first passing and glorious moment of remembrance which awaits you here, but alas, the logistics of our souls ever meeting or recognising each other again are next to...”

He continued to ramble but I couldn’t make out what he was saying, as if his voice had been drowned by fur until it had turned white and dissolved, and then there was nothing. No hum of machinery, no group hysterics, no sound at all. Instead, I felt my breathing leap up into my throat while my lungs closed inside of me. Dizziness overflowed in my gut but it did not detract from the overwhelming buzz of happiness which lifted my toes from the conveyor belt. It’s difficult to explain, but the last thing I recall is looking down at my long grey fingers as they pixelated into tiny squares and began to come apart, losing shape. I was falling to pieces! My atoms were no longer sticking together, drifting aside like bits of rice in water. A few moments later, I felt my core shoot downwards into a concentrated point like I had been turned into liquid and forced out of a syringe, all of which I would understand eventually.

The Goat's Nest Short Stories Presents: Clean Birth - I felt my core shoot downwards into a concentrated point like I had been turned into liquid and forced out of a syringe.
That was me leaving the in between realm as my designated father's sperm connected with my designated mommy’s egg and demanded my spirit as the electricity to spark the physical growth of their child; me, their daughter. And thanks to that elderly man, I knew what was going on. I thought about him all the time whilst I was in the womb as my face formed features and my fingernails grew. Who was he before? Who was he going to be now? He was a bit weird, but was he essentially a good man? It felt like an eternity of contemplation where I realised that being a Clean Birth came with the curse of having no memories to dwell upon and to distract oneself with during this lengthy period of waiting. And then one day, my little water cage erupted around me and I was born into the world, ironically anything but a clean birth, covered in uterus wax and nearly choking to death by my own umbilical cord. I admit, I cried. They had to place me in an incubator to keep an eye on me for a week or two, but I wasn’t bothered. I was here! I had arrived! I had been born! Sights and smells and noises flooded my mind, and it was hilarious. I got better soon enough too, and my mother took me home.

It’s funny what people don’t know. When you are living inside of your mother’s tummy, you are, in fact, at your most knowledgable. You remember past lives and so many secrets of the world, life and death. All newborns are holy people for, in general, they have just come from a crowded place of blissful souls and epiphanies. But as their developing brains digest their new surroundings, they are quick to forget about these places, this memory lapse designed as a defence mechanism, the mind now much more concerned with this new life’s challenges, experiences and interactions. It’s silly when you know this, but it’s also imperative in the evaluation of the quality of one’s soul, giving the freedom of ignorance and the illusion that this is the One Life. It was how the gods judged you and appraised your role in the greater battles of everything. And I get that.

As I grew and recognised the role of my mother and learned to speak, the memory of the elderly man was lost, forced into that compartment of my soul which would only be liberated after life. And when it did, I appreciated the man, as he spent his 137th death not in the bliss of remembrance as it was intended, but rather explaining the finer details of the cycle to me. And everything he said was almost completely accurate, apart from one detail: I would never end back upon that conveyor belt. For I was, indeed, special after all.

They gave me the name Macy Dull. This is the beginning of my story.