American Horror Story - Asylum: A Premiere Review

So the second season of American Horror Story premiered last Sunday but I didn't know about it until yesterday. I'm so not up-to-date on TV this year! But regardless, I got to watch the premiere and what a premiere it was!

I was a little bit skeptical of the second season, since the first one was fucking awesome! When they announced a cast switch-up after the season finale of season one, the fans were often dragged back and forth concerning the casting. Earlier reports stated the return of certain cast members and then they said the cast would return playing other characters, and finally only some of the cast came back in different roles.

The premiere was flawless. Although it was a bit tricky to follow the storylines at first, the slow reveal of certain mysteries helped to clarify any doubts I had early on. AHS has that talent of dragging you alongbrutally with your consent.
There are multiple storylines, once again, all unfolding in one location: a mental asylum.

We have the story of two twisted lovers (Jenna Dewan and Adam Levine) exploring the asylum in modern times. Teresa (Dewan) explains certain facts about the abandonned hospital and helps us establish the past of the asylum. She has a fetish for practising sexual activities in dark, horrifying places. Her boyfriend, Leo (Levine), follows her into the hospice and both get a taste of darkness.

Sometime in the 60's, shortly after JFK's inauguration, we follow the story of Sister Jude and Dr. Arthur Arden (Jessica Lange and James Cromwell) who both run the asylum although they do not seem to get along. Sister Jude (Lange) is a nun with a pious heart. She runs the asylum with an iron fist based on zealous religious beliefs. She's shown to be ruthless when she holds a journalist (Sarah Paulson) against her will when Sister Jude finds Lana (Paulson) wandering around the asylum.

 

And finally we have the story of Kit Walker (Evan Peters) who is also known as Bloody Face, since he was allegedly seen leaving the crime scene wearing a mask made of bloodied skin. He is brought to Briarcliff Asylum to be taken care of by Sister Jude until he goes to trial. He swears he did not kill his wife, Alma (Britne Oldford), and that he is not crazy. He believes (and we are shown) that in actuality, his homestead was attacked by an unseen creature that may or may not be aliens. Inside the asylum, he befriends a woman named Grace (Lizzie Brocheré), who is also accused of murdering people she loved and equally claims to be sane.

Behind all of these stories lies Monsignor Timothy Howard (Joseph Fiennes), the man whose vision inspired Sister Jude to turn the asylum into a pastry factory and who brought Dr. Arden (Cromwell) to the hospital so he can find a cure for tuberculosis. We see him briefly discussing with Sister Jude, who fantasizes of giving herself to him, and reassuring her that the mysterious and sometimes spooky Dr. Arden is not to be worried about.

 

The main plotlines all revolve around religion and mental illness, and how the ignorance of our past harms us more then we know. There is alot of sex/sexual references in this series and the creepy, edgy factor of season one was not lost in the change. I love that they inserted the music from the original Carrie into the season premiere - it really gave it that extra fear factor.

Here's a teaser for you to watch!

 

 

 

You can catch the show on FX, wednesdays at 10PM or do like me an watch it here. Hope you're not afraid of the dark!

Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink


 

Local Lyrical

I love township pastry shops and, in general, supporting local businesses. There's something oddly rewarding that comes out of helping a neighbour. It's not a reward that can be touched or felt, like gold. It's not a reward that can be seen or heard, like a thank you. It's the kind of reward that warms you, like a hug.

So to all the readers and supporters of this local blog, I ask that you open your ears, stretch those limbs and enjoy the marathon of videos that are provided courtesy of Chali.

I'm kinda sorta, okay really, addicted to his music. There's also a video on Vimeo that you can listen to by clicking here. It's a really good cover/remix/sample/take on F. Ocean's Dying for your Love. Enjoy and spread the word!!

Add Chali on twitter: @Chali819
Join the movement on facebook: facebook/chalimusic


Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink

The Infected: Fogo Island (15)

fifteen: digging deeper down


I wake up cold. My skin is icy to the touch and my teeth chatter away as the frigid northern winds creep into our makeshift tent. Malory is already busy packing everything away.

"We'll leave the tarp behind, we won't need it anyway. We're just a few hours away and I don't think I can handle anymore manoeuvering. My fingers are frozen." I can hear Malory say from outside the tent. I slip on my cardigan and the yellow winter coat Malory handed me the day we left camp.

The sun blinds me the moment I exit the tent. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the bright landscape. There's a nice smell in the air, one of freshness. It feels good to breathe in aromas different then rotting flesh and disease-filled air. I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. With my free hand I grasp my wooden spear.

Malory holsters her shotgun and we are ready to leave again. All this wandering about has left me tired, sore, and most of all utterly unconvinced. What's the point of trekking around the globe now that everything I loved is lost. Malory admitted that she killed Greta last night and it triggered a series of questions.

"Can we...Can we talk about what we said last night?" I ask, forcing one foot ahead of the other. Every step weakens me. I rub my belly, worried that my baby is dead. I haven't felt her move in so long. Her. A baby girl. I would name her Greta.

"Why? We said what we wanted, didn't we? I don't think I have anything to add to that, frankly." Malory answers, without even looking back at me. I keep following her from a distance, the cold snow making every step harder and harder to take. She is unreadable; I constantly find myself wondering what she really thinks. She can be so warm sometimes, so inviting; at other times, she can be as frigid as the wind.

"You murdered a child, Malory. And you don't even seem to know why."

"I killed...I did what I had to. Times have changed. You won't understand, Charlie."

"Then help me understand. I knew that girl!" I shout but Malory keeps on walking. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" I yell even louder and grab Malory's arm, forcing her to stop. When she turns, there's tears in her eyes.

"You killed someone, Malory. Not one of those bastards, but a living person. What did Greta do? Tell me!" I slap her across the cheek and then tears form in my own eyes. I slap her again but she doesn't react. "TELL ME!"

"She knew too bloody much! Don't make the same mistake she did, Charlie. Don't get involved in this." Her voice comes out a semi-growl, a sound only a madwoman would make.

"I don't care about your stupid war with my mom or your dad or whatever. This is bigger then you, bigger then us all. People are dying, Malory. I know you're not a bad person, so stop acting like one."

"This is not bigger then all of us. It's all about us. If we make it off this bloody island, I promise I will tell you everything, Charlie. But you have to trust me."

Her brow creases, giving her a sad puppy look. I don't know if I do trust her. I can't know for sure if what she tells me are lies or the truth. But right now I have no other choice then play along in the hopes that she will reunite me with Felix. I've learned alot and it took alot for me to come to the conclusion that, in this new world, all that matters is being safe with Felix.

"I trust you, Malory. Besides Felix, you are all I have." I give her the same smile I would give Victoria Crow when she forced me to do something I didn't want to. But this time it was different. I never thought about getting revenge on Victoria - I was weak back then.

But now I'm a fighter, a survivor. And nobody will ever put me down again.

The Infected: Blog Story - The Complete First Part

 

 

THE INFECTED:BLOG STORY

PART I

 

To read PART TWO, click here

 

Charlotte Olsen

Felix Holloway

Aleksandra ?????

Victoria Crow

Jeanette Olsen

David Price

 

 

 

Click on the chapter to read (side story found in brackets)

 

1.  Introductions
2. Eggs for Breakfast
3. Theory Boy
4. Newsworthy
5. The Night (What Happened to Victoria Crow)
6. Not Alone
7. Mixed Emotions
8. Heartbroken (What Happened to the Holloways)
9. Out of Gas
10. Allies
11. Bound to Happen
12. Awakening
13. Overnight 
14. Not Normal Anymore
15. Escape
16. Lightning Strikes Twice
17. Northbound 
18. Reflections
19. Broadcast
20. The Island

Bonus Chapter:

The Infected: A Very Merry Xmas Special

 

 





A remedy for writer's block?

My roommate's mom came over this weekend to help her with organizing her room and seeing them re-arrange her bedroom inspired me to rework what I had into something more suitable and fit for creative writing. An inspiring setting is really important to get the imagination going.

So lo and behold, here is my new writing station:

 

 

I love the space so much! It sucks I didn't take a before pic but just imagine a 27 inch 90's tube tv sitting on the corner of the table. Not much room left to write. Clutter-free-imagination-station!

Candles are out,

Eleven's Ink

Are you there blog? It's me, Kevin

Ok so i've been totally inactive from this blog for well over two months. And I honestly don't even know why. I have a ton of shit to talk about but I think my problem is: I don't know how to say it.

Sure, I love lists and countdowns but not everything in life can be summed up in a top ten list. And I can't review movies that I didn't like and i've been seeing alot of shitty movies lately. I think I haven't quite figured out the necessity of this blog. Do I want to spark up conversations, or simply relay information I like? Should I use this as a vehicle to drive my writing passion forward or simply mingle "blog stories" with regular blog posts?

You see, I haven't figured out what it is exactly that I want to do with this blog. It's all over the place with no POV (I sound like a judge on The Next Food Network Star) and no bond strong enough to hold it togheter. I was thinking for a while of just changing the name and design for something alot more specific but  I don't like specific. I like all-over-the-place. You see how I get conflicted so easily? I'm a walking contradiction.

So I've decided to continue doing what i'm doing with Wiki Wiki What and that is randomly write shit and then posting it. Seems simple enough. Simple is good. So...yeah...have a nice day and keep reading! :)



Candles are out,
Eleven's Ink

The Infected: Fogo Island (14)

fourteen: campfire confessions

We decided to rest for awhile, question of winning back our strenght. Both Malory and I were exhausted, dehydrated, hungry. Overall, we needed a break. The snow had ceased but the brutal winds continued dusting the white shit around me. Malory's brilliant idea of bringing a tarp with her surely saved us from hypothermia.

She was doing just that, setting the tarp, when I approached her with a semi-frozen can of corn.

"This is all we have left. How far 'til we reach the others?" I ask, half expecting a grunt for a response. Malory hasn't been very chatty since the attack. A part from the odd instructions here or there, not much was heard from the English lass with the fiery red hair.

"Another few hours walk. We'll leave first thing tomorrow. Save the food for then." Her words are stiff, her pronounciation stiffer. The cold is getting to her too.

"We have to eat, Malory. We won't have the strenght to survive the night." I look out at the vast forest ahead. White everywhere. "Not in these conditions."

Malory ties up the final knot and turns hastily to face me, her face twisted with either anger or confusion. "And what would you know about these conditions? You grew up in Del Rio, Texas - bloody gated communities." She says and flips a corner of the tarp over and I see now that she created a makeshift tent.

"It isn't gated. And excuse me, I'm trying my best here. I didn't ask for this, to be brought here and misled. You don't know me, Malory."

"Didn't we already establish the fact that I do know you?" Malory answers with a grin and a chuckle. She sidesteps me and enters the tent she just made. I quickly follow.

"You don't know me." I shoot back, placing my palms on my heart. "The real me."

Malory stops and briefly looks into my eyes. "Is this your way of making me feel sorry for you?" She can be so dry and so...British some times. She kneels down and begins what looks like early preparations for a campfire.

I take a step forward. I feel so vulnerable - I've been acting so different lately. Chopping off my hair, acting without thinking, lashing out at Felix. It could be the pregnancy, which i'm starting to think went terribly wrong. I haven't felt her - it - I haven't felt it moving in weeks. I feel alone.

"I was bullied." I start, hoping to get Malory's attention. I do. "Yeah, I was the school's punching bag. Rich kids didn't want to be my friend because I wasn't into shopping or gossip. Middle class thought I was just some another snob. Poor kids didn't even notice I existed. I had David. I had nothing to live for but him."

Tears start forming in my eyes. I don't even look at Malory. I just continue. "David was everything to me. When shit hit the fan and I left Del Rio with Felix, I had no doubt in my mind that David was dead. Stupid me, if anyone could survive the zombie apocalypse it would have been him. I went on living thinking he was dead. But he wasn't. And the moment I found out was the moment Aleksandra put a bullet in him. I found comfort in Felix. Stability is what keeps us sane, Malory. Habits. Felix was a familiar face, someone I knew and trusted."

I notice i'm rubbing my belly and judging by Malory's teary eyes and knowing glance, she has too.

"I'm pregnant, Malory." I say and then the waterworks really start.

Malory crawls towards me and wraps her arms around my cold body. We cry togheter for the unborn baby. We cry for the world that is no more. We cry for our loved ones.

"I killed Greta. I don't know why. I killed her." Malory lets out between sobs.
I don't want her to feel guilty for me. I know the game she is playing, sensed it from the moment we left the camp. No, I don't want her sympathy. I want revenge. And right now, Malory is eating from the palm of my hand.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I act.