Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower

“Cosmo, the Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower”- Les Barker
A Cardi and Bloke ©Mrs Ackroyd, 1995

“Roll up Roll up,” cried the Ringmaster.
“See the man on the flying trapeze!
The one we’ve just fitted with elastic!
That’s him over there in the trees.”

“Where’s Cosmo? The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower?”
The girl with the baby said.
Her name was Lucille.
They knew Cosmo had known her
Because she still had a knife in her head.

“He’s back there in the procession,” said the Ringmaster,
Pointing to an old, half-timbered Morris.
It’s Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower,
And his lovely assistant, Doris.

Lucille stormed up to him in anger,
Gave him the baby; he didn’t resist.
Shamed by the memory of the night she conceived.
He’d aimed for her sister and missed.

Little did she know that the child Cosmo gained
On that morning’s Morris traveler ride
Would become the world famous stunt man:
“Evil Shmevil:” and his Yamasheta 1-2-5.

He grew up a child of the circus,
Rode the big dipper, the Dodgems, the Ghost Train,
With Cosmo, the Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower,
And his lovely assistant, Elaine.

Once upon a time, they kept marine mammals,
But everyone was agin’ it.
And now the pool stands empty-
There isn’t any “porpoise” in it.

Evil set the animals free,
‘Cause that’s what he knew they would wish.
You can’t keep animals in cages these days,
And it never worked out well with the fish.

And soon he was a star of the circus,
And the Morris traveler still traveling on.
With Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower
And his lovely assistant, Yvonne.

Poor Cosmo was on the decline,
He was hitting the Boddington’s loopy juice,
And in one afternoon hit two lovely assistants,
Four passersby, and a migrating Canada goose.

But his circus was making a fortune,
And the audiences willingly paid it,
To see Evil leap over 36 national front members
And cheer when he never quite made it

And before he would get out of the ring
The next act would kill two or three.
It was Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower,
And his lovely assistant, Loraine.

And the climax of Evil’s career was
Announced with fanfare and fuss,
He’d leap over 42 motor bikes in
A corporation double-decker bus.

It was on the 1-8-9 to Stockport
That Evil set out after his dream.
Drove at 75 miles an hour down Wellington Rd. North
Towards the “Little Sisters of the Poor Formation” motorbike team.

Some say the big lady on the back seat stood up.
But they found a puncture in the front wheel,
And a knife inscribed: “To Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower-
From his lovely assistant, Lucille.”

Cosmo, Prince of Denmark

(The Sequel to "Cosmo, the Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower")

"Cosmo, Prince of Denmark"- Les Barker
A Cardi and Bloke ©Mrs Ackroyd, 1995

The guard, high on the battlements
Of royal Elsinore
Saw the ghost of one departed,
The king of days before;
A knife deep in his chest,
His face with pain was wracked;
"This dagger was my son's," he cried;
"I was helping him with his act."

Cosmo, Prince of Denmark;
Hamlet's younger brother,
Killed Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,
His uncle and his mother.
It was the evil, cunning Claudius
Who ended the old king's life
When he said to little Cosmo,
"Merry Christmas! Here's a knife."

Cosmo tried out slings and arrows,
And Hamlet bore the scars
Before he made an outrageous fortune
Out of his cigars.
Cosmo, Prince of Denmark,
With practiced flick of practiced wrist,
Took arms against the sea of troubles
. . . And missed.

It was curtains for Polonius;
He came crashing to the ground
With a knife straight through the arras-
Serves him right for turning ‘round.
Cosmo killed Laertes' father
But his sister went to ground;
She jumped into the river
And he missed her but she drowned.

Then they stood beside the grave,
Horatio and the kid;
"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio."
"Yes, he looks as if you did."
And there are characters in other plays
That Cosmo did to death.
Remember poor King Duncan?
Bet you thought it was Macbeth.
It was Cosmo, Prince of Denmark;
He got out his knife and fork
And sliced up Francis Bacon
And half the House of York.

Cosmo, Prince of Denmark;
Not the best of men at darts;
The reason English kings
Often come in several parts.
Again in Julius Caesar,
Don't heed his dying call;
Although he said "Et tu Brute?"
It wasn't him at all.

It was Cosmo,
Practicing at home.
He’d aimed at Copenhagen
But the knife came down in Rome.
It was Cosmo, Prince of Denmark
Who sent him to the grave
,And the Latin "Et tu Brute?"
Just means "Where's me aftershave?"

Oberon, Titania;
They all went for the chop;
It was unfortunate for Bottom;
Cosmo went for double top.
"But soft! What knife through yonder window breaks?"
Poor Juliet, cried, intense.
"Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"
"I'm impaled against this fence!"

All around the stage were bodies,
Survivors there were rarities.
As they counted up the corpses:
One hundred and Laertes.
Cosmo looked at all the carnage,
Remorseful for the dead.
He attempted suicide
And killed King Richard's horse instead.

And in a land beyond Tintagel
Lies a lake shrouded in mists,
Where a hand holds up a sword,
And a voice cries ". . . Who threw this?"

Déjà Vu

Déjà Vu- Les Barker
A Cardi and Bloke- © Mrs Ackroyd, 1995

“Déjà Vu:” A Rhyme.
It is impossible to experience
déjà vu for the first time.
I reckon, the first time déjà vu happens,
is the second.

“Déjà Vu:” A Rhyme.
It is impossible to experience
déjà vu for the first time.
I reckon, the first time déjà vu happens,
is the second.

I started with verse two.
Verse one will stay and listen,
because the first time you say "déjà vu,"
it isn't.

But then again, to get a little more immersed,
you can't experience déjà vu twice,
because you didn't experience it first.
It's a recap.

“Déjà Vu:” A Rhyme.
I know what you're thinking,
this is not the first time.

Three times and still it isn't true.
How do you qualify?
What do you have to do?

How do you climb this mountain?
Or you may think it just a hillock.
You may think this man is a philosopher.
All together, you may think this man is a pillock.

I've been called a pillock before,
strange but true.
When I hear the word "pillock,"to me,
its déjà vu. A rhyme.

It is impossible to experience
déjà vu for the first time.
I reckon, the first time déjà vu happens,
is the second.

Then again, and this is interesting,
there are those who say déjà vu is
a once in a lifetime thing.
Then they say it again.

And at the risk of being a bore,
if you go back to the first time
déjà vu happened, you'll think,
"That's happened before!"

We should explore the supernatural,
put knowledge in place of mere feeling.
And in the university as a chair for the paranormal,
you can't get it down off the ceiling.

Too many gaps in our understanding.
Is time travel a thing of the past?
What was the best thing before sliced bread?
How long does this poem last?
Are black pool hallucinations real?

But to return us to an old friend,
“Déjà Vu:” The End.

Job?

Let's start at this past summer:

Last spring, I started applying for jobs in late April/early May, before I got out of school. I honestly lost track of how many places I applied for, but I know I broke my record of applying for 13 places before I got a job at the airport. The reason why I couldn't get back in was from complications of re-applying, getting an appointment to get fingerprinted, and then waiting for the FBI to clear my identity, validating parking. . . it was just too complicated and my boss and I missed each other too many times.

I almost got a job at St. Anne's school for girls in Albany as a TA- I was hired on the spot and given a tour, the rules, the hours, the pay, and so on. I was told I'd get a call to come in for a second interview when I was assigned to the department I'd be working for (science or math or something). I waited a week then called *them* back, and it was pretty much just a "lol sorry we got no open positions I was just about to send you a letter." I got a letter a few days later with someone else's name on it and a response to a different application for another position.

So I applied to Best Buy, and they actually called me back. They told me to try to get a job up in Plattsburgh since it's where I would be most of the year, then the transferrance of jobs would be easier. I was told to apply for the "seasonal" job which is from thanksgiving through Christmas, instead of summer. Well I applied up here in Plattsburgh, and after many calls and even meeting them in person they never made an effort to get back to me. Meanwhile, my mom tipped me off that Crossgates was hiring when she was getting a new laptop, and I applied again immediately. They called me back last weekend. We played phone tag for a bit before I finally spoke to the manager yesterday. Since I can't work from Thanksgiving through January, since I kinda have, y'know, school, I couldn't get the job. Being able to work from Nov. to Dec. is pretty much the "make it or break it" point for the Best Buy at Crossgates. They told me to re-apply for the summer, which is ironic, since they told me they only accept seasonal people at this time of year when I applied *last* summer. . .

I feel like I don't even have a job right now, even though I've technically only been a tutor for a week. I've told the instructor(s) that I'm available, and I know for a fact that some people need extra help in this class. Its pretty frustrating since my pay depends on other people who are actually motivated to do well in school. I've even thought about applying for being a bagger or something at Price Chopper and I could do the employee transfer from there, but then I remembered that the Price Chopper back home hired too many people, and they honestly can't accept anymore people. I'm going to try St. Anne's again this summer and hope it turns out ok

but in the mean time. . . can I borrow $20?

So uh. . .

I have to do "blog participation" for my online library course. Not on here, of course pffft that would be HELL. But every week I have to put two comments on that week's "post" about whatever subject we happen to be talking about. So I feel like I'm already blogging when I do that, hence my lack of updates. I also kinda sorta forgot my list of "things to do" on here, and I'm kinda too lazy to look through the archives to find it. . .

Mise-en-scène

"Mise-en-scène is a French term and originates in the theater. It means, literally, "put in the scene." For film, it has a broader meaning, and refers to almost everything that goes into the composition of the shot, including the composition itself: framing, movement of the camera and characters, lighting, set design and general visual environment, even sound as it helps elaborate the composition."

We've been studying this in my Film and Literature class, focusing on how the story is told through visuals. As I was browsing YouTube, I came across a video about the making of Silent Hill 3- unlike Silent Hill 2 and some instances from the first game, they focus more on physical fear compared to psychological horror.

To the left are some set designs to put the player on edge: the walls and floors will bleed, "burn," and swarm with dark stains, sometimes making it harder to see where you're going. This creates anxiety, fear, uneasiness and confusion among the player. Not only that, but the only light you have is a flashlight. There is rarely, if ever, another light source. Yet there's a catch: the more light you use, the more likely you'll attract danger. But you know you need it to survive.

Creepy/scary/serious games/movies are just more fun to analyze: They focus more on camera angles and lighting, and are meant to stir up the emotions of the audience. They just have more to offer in my opinion. Go watch the Silent Hill Movie then go see High School Musical. Which movie was more appealing? (base this on visuals, not the obvious plot failures).

If you watch that video on YouTube, the creators of the game put an enormous amount of thought into everything in the game- they didn't have another reference so they had to do everything from scratch, making this game even more original. Even the characters were carefully chosen.

For example: look at this picture. This is the first character concept of Heather, the main character of the game. If you were to describe her with simple adjectives, what would you say about this girl?

Sweet?

Innocent?

Young?

Feminine?

Now does she really look like a character that you would find as the heroine of a survival horror game? . . . Not really. The female co-designers insisted that she be a little more sexy with her clothing style (not in jeans like the original designer pictured her) and with shorter hair, yet they made it slightly curly, to still give it that innocent look.

How would you describe the final version of Heather?


Here's Heather's actress, doing some moves that will later be recorded via movement senors






Here's Claudia's concept: the main "villain" of the game. Note the impressive amount of detail put into her appearance. The designers also had the idea to make her bald with her body completely covered in tattoos, yet it would make her too "obvious." You can already kinda tell how much of a religious zealot she is just from these concepts.



Here's the final version of Claudia. They purposefully gave her no eyebrows to make her more mysterious in what she was thinking/feeling. Not only were they successful in that, but they still managed to make her look really creepy looking.

Vincent is (spoiler alert) a hypocritical character- he uses you for his own purposes and basically only looks out for himself. He likes to tease you along the way- he and Heather argue over who's "side" he's really on.

Here's another mise-en-scene thing: Sometimes, the camera angle will be from first person, with Vincent addressing the "camera." Since you play as Heather, I guess you can assume that we see what Heather sees. However, if you look really closely, when Vincent speaks to you, he doesn't look you in the eye. He seems to be looking over your shoulder at something else. . .

Here's what Mr. Hitchcock had to say:
Hitchcock is the creator of the "Hitchcockian blot:" this is where we 1) identify the viewing subject, someone who is looking in a particular direction. Then, we 2) see the viewing object; we have switched to the viewing subjects point of view and can see what they're looking at. 3) the gaze is returned as a reaction to the viewing subject.

Take this scene from Hitchcock's rendition of Rear Window from 1954:
(click to enlarge)

. . . sweeeeet.

You aren't an official blogger if you don't complain about something in your life.

For me its housework. (you can just skip down to the stars if you want to.)

Now as you guys know, I wasn't able to get a job this summer. Except for babysitting every other weekend which pretty much takes up all of Saturday and Sunday, along with my class at St. Rose, I'm pretty much always home. I try to hang out with friends and go to the gym to get out of the house, but its hard when your parents always require 1 car in the driveway, just in case something comes up.

Since I'm home, I might as well be doing something while I'm doing nothing. This means housework. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem doing laundry and dishes everyday and keeping things clean. Although I feel like its kinda come to the point where the house is my responsibility.

Greg works mon-fri from 1-9, or at least is supposed to, and when he's not working he's out with friends, usually sleeping over at their house. Dad works all day every day but has started to take it easy on the weekends, and god forbid he has to lift a finger or else all hell breaks loose. Mom's physically disabled, which makes it extra difficult to do normal chores. So that leaves me.

Every morning (I'll admit not that recently) my mom gets on me to do the laundry, or else we "get behind." Throughout the day I monitor the laundry and do the dishes. I clean the toilets and dust all the rooms. I scrubbed the shower doors for hours and they still aren't perfect. I dusted every room since mom's allergic. I feed the animals and clean up their puke (a lot). I vaccum the whole house and people's bedrooms. Last week mom and I- hold on, the washer just finished.

. . .


Ok, so last week mom and I cleaned the entire basement, reorganized my dad's office, and rearranged furniture, despite both of our chronic muscle pain. I vaccumed and dusted the stais on my hands and knees. I dusted/mopped/vaccumed the linoleum floors. I clean the litter box. I think its safe to say that I do my fair share around here.

***But the problem I have is why I can't ask for help. "Well, Greg works." . . . So? When I had a job last summer I still helped out. How come that excuse didn't work for me? If I ask him to help he just says "I don't really want to" or "Well, how come you can't do it?" Once in a blue moon he'll do something big, like mow the lawn one day, and vaccum the car the next. This makes him exempt for a good few days. "Well, he did [insert here]." Nothing I do can measure up to mowing the lawn.

Dad goes grocery shopping, will piss and moan as he put something in the dryer now and then, and sometimes beats me to the garbage. How come its ok for him to lie around and sleep all weekend, and when we try to do the same, he gets upset? Oh yea. . . he has a job.

I told my mom I feel like some of my work goes unnoticed, and for the reasons above, I feel somewhat unappreciated. Her response was that she used to do all the work, and no one thanked her. Now that I'm an adult, I shouldn't expect someone to thank me for helping out, since Dad expects us to always thank him and it annoys her. I understand where she was coming from but it still kinda hurt my feelings. She just said this morning she'll be lonely when I go back to school. I couldn't help but think about the house going to shit after I'm gone, and all the work she'll have to do without me. I do worry about her, and I'm afraid I'm turning into her.

[/rant]