My Five Favourite Fables of Fiction =)

1. Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai (1954)


Seven Samurai does not have a complex storyline whatsoever, which is what makes it beautiful. A poor farming village under constant attack by bandits hire seven unemployed samurai to help them defend themselves. Seven Samurai is, in my opinion, the first epic film ever made. With a total runtime of 3 hrs 27 minutes, it is not a film for everyone, but those who watch it shall be greatly rewarded. It has some of the finest characterization ever put on screen, and is virtually the perfect film in every way. Each character is fully developed and unique, and Kurosawa's meticulousness shines in every frame like the swords these men carry. Long live Kyuzo<3 (the most BADASS samurai EVAR.)

2. The CunninLynguists' A Piece of Strange (2006)


A Piece of Strange is by far the most influential album I've ever come across, and what I consider the defining album of my youth. It is a concept album, and through music, tells the journey of a man down on his luck, enshrouded by darkness, that eventually clears his mind and sees "The Light" (track 16). The true beauty of the record is shown through the way each individual song can stand on its own, but it is only when they all come together that the story begins to unravel itself to the listener. There is no absolute. Countless interpretations of this record have sprang up all over the internet and a website has even been spawned @ http://whatisapos.com/

3. Ken Kesey's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest (1963)


OFOTCN is considered a classic novel, and with good reason. At the time, writing about inmates of a mental asylum was greeted with great controversy. Ken Kesey made all of his characters likeable (with the exception of antagonist Nurse Ratched), not an easy task when the majority of the novel's personalities are mental patients. He made the protagonist, Randle McMurphy, likeable, even though he was only in the mental institution to avoid prison time. When Randle is strangling Nurse Ratched near the climax of the novel, Kesey's characterization lets the reader actually want Randle to succeed in killing her. Another interesting facet of the novel is its narration. It is narrated in an almost omniscient sense, but the narration is actually coming from Chief, a character that is virtually ignored by everyone else in the novel.

4. Sony's God of War (2005)


God of War. Enough said. Sony's kickass game won numerous awards and deserved every last one of them. It is a personal favourite of mine because of how well it immerses the player into the story. The flawless controls, epic camera angles, vivid gameplay, and pounding score seem like they were created by the Gods themselves. Greek mythology has always been a fascination of mine, as I think it is one of the most fascinating fields of study on earth. The story is compelling. The characters are larger than life. God of War is a must-have.

5. Sergio Leone's The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (1966)


Last but certainly not least, is Sergio Leone's magnum opus. Like Seven Samurai, the true beauty of TGTBATU lies within the simplicity of its plotline. Three men set out to find a buried treasure. That's it. Also, each character is not exactly who they seem. The Good (Clint Eastwood) can occasionally be caught doing some terrible things. The Bad (Lee Van Cleef) is sometimes a nice guy. And The Ugly (Eli Wallach) is just, well, nevermind. Sergio Leone was the first director to play with the harmonious marriage of the right piece of music to the right clips of video. When Eli Wallach's character is manically running through the graveyard where the treasure is buried, and Ennio Morricone's "The Ecstasy of Gold" is playing as the soundtrack, it is truly a sight to behold. All of these reasons and many more is why The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly kicks gratuitious amounts of ass and oozes with awesomeness.

You Would Never Have Guessed This Happened But... (Writing Exercise)

a few nights ago, when I had trouble sleeping, I went outside and sat on my balcony for some fresh air. Suddenly, I saw my shoes hopping down my steps, as if leading me. I followed them to my backyard and waited for what was to come. There was a sense of electricity in the air, and the friendly scent of lilac. My confusion was peaking when I saw a massive object glowing translucent green land in front of me. I shouted, "what the..!" and started to investigate. A large door slammed open and an alien wearing pink, fuzzy glasses strangely attracted me inside. I felt possessed. Drugged. Like someone else. This cannot be happening! I was just in the safety of my home and now I'm trapped in a UFO! I looked around and saw who else I was trapped with. I saw a big yellow bird, seemingly from a children's television program, a small dog, Robert DeNiro, and Tila Tequila. Everyone had a look of confusion on their face, even the shitzu. DeNiro stood as still as a statue. Ms. Tequila made some suggestive motions toward me but I paid no attention to her nonsensical ways. Suddenly, Rihanna's "Umbrella" came through the loudspeakers and the alians started dancing the night away. The robot, the mashed potato, the macarena, these aliens were retro. It was just then that Big Bird reached his breaking point and pulled out what looked like a gun from his left wing. DeNiro started laughing hysterically and threw the McDonald's cup of whatever he was drinking at one of the aliens. Ms. Tequila was now doing something inexplainable to the small dog. Big Bird reached the edge of his sanity and shot an alien in the head, leaving a grotesque maroon explosion. The aliens shouted "please don't stop the music!" to which DeNiro replied, "are you talkin' to me?!" The aliens seemed so impressed by DeNiro's performance they dropped me back off in my back yard with Big Bird, DeNiro, and the dog. For some reason they kept Tila Tequila...

...and I swear to you, that is exactly how it all went down.

The B.S. Life of a Tickle Me Elmo

Hello.

My name is Elmo, and people of all ages and races partake in the disgusting activity of tickling me for their own pleasure. I'm here to say one thing and one thing only: keep your bloody hands off of me.

I do not enjoy being tickled, as everyone knows it is not a pleasurable feeling whatsoever. I'm typing this to inform everyone to just leave me alone. Tell your snot-infested, bottom-feeding, STUPID children to BURN IN HELL FOR WHAT THEY'VE DONE. Tell them to go play with Barbie. Or better yet, Buzz Lightyear, because God knows my patience has been stretched to infinity and beyond. If I have to laugh again while a booger-fingered-brat gropes me in places that are not meant for strangers, I will report him to the FBI and sue the parents for sexual harassment.

HOW WOULD YOU FEEL? HOW WOULD YOU FEEL BEING TICKLED AGAINST YOUR WILL NONSTOP FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF OTHERS? HOW WOULD YOU FEEL BEING THROWN ON THE SHELF TO COLLECT DUST WITH OTHER CHILDREN'S MEMORABILIA? STOP THE G**DAMN TORMENT ALREADY. E. NOUGH.

I hereby tender my resignation from earth.

P.S. Tell that yellow bird I never liked the cut of his jib.

Goodbye cruel world.

"Elmo... just Emo with an L."

FIVE BOOKS I WOULD GLADLY EAT.

1. The Biggest Dictionary on the Face of the Planet

Why? This is for all those people... the people that told me at one time or another, to swallow my words. Well, here I am. It's going down like Nelly's Country Grammar. Oh. Yeah. It would probably taste exuberantly titillating.

2. Life of Pi

Why? I just love the irony of eating a book in which the main character has no food. Ha. Ha. Haaaaah. Oh Piscine. I think it would taste like... pie?

3. Long-Term Survival in the Coming Dark Age: Preparing to Live After Society Crumbles

Why? Just in case...

4. Mr. T: The Man With the Gold : An Autobiography of Mr. T

Why? "Because ahh pity da fool dat eet ma book!"

Sorry, T., you gotta go...

5. Men's Health Magazine

Why? PROTEINNNNNNNAH.

The Most Vivid Memory of My Childhood.

The Year:
•1996, four years of age.

The Setting:
•a blisteringly hot, sticky midsummer day.
•the backseat of my godmother's old Lincoln

The Purpose:
•a trip to K-Mart

It was mid-July, and I could not have been more care free if I tried. My days typically consisted of playing soccer with family friends and strolling throughout the dangerous ghetto of Winona without worrying that I wasn't "keeping it real in the streetz," because there was no doubt that I was. No one on the block had a trike quite like mine, but that's neither here nor there. Then, one especially warm morning, my godmother, Mira Zrakic, came to our house. This woman loved me and took care of me as if I was her own offspring. I can't count the number of days spent at her house, under her supervision, eating her delicious meals, and being showered with her numerous gifts. This day, however, was different. This day would eventually become the source of my most vivid childhood memory.

My mother interrupted my play to tell me that I was going somewhere with my godmother. I stopped what I was doing just as her huge, gray, Lincoln rolled into our driveway. It was a particularly busy day, and our fruit stand was populated with customers looking to satisfy their hungers and their daily requirements of fruits and vegetables. My godmother stepped out of the car, and I ran to her ecstatically, and gave her the largest hug of my career as an infant. I was waiting in the back seat of the Lincoln as her and my mother conversed, most likely exchanging recipés. I looked around, and to this day I remember the sights, smells and feelings of that moment: my mother, with her now-shorter-and-grayer long black hair; my neighbour's children flying a pink and yellow kite across the street; and a man carrying a box of tomatoes from our fruit stand to the trunk of his small red car. I remember the hot feel of vinyl to my skin on the inside of the Lincoln, and how small my body appeared in my eyes in her spacious back seat. I remember what was said to me when my godmother sat in the driver's seat: "Dudu, we're going to K-Mart." At four years old, K-Mart, to me, was the Mercedes of toy stores. It was like entering a new world, one with high shelves and an endless supply of the latest toys and must-have commodities. I remember running into K-Mart with my godmother walking behind me. I remember seeing the toy that changed my childhood. A large, purple and green plush toy, that went by the name of Barney. I had that toy for years, and loved it wholeheartedly until the day my mother gave it away to a less fortunate child. The day I acquired Barney was one of the happiest days of my life and the one that I, unflinchingly, am able to recall every detail of.

25 Things I Enjoy Writing About!

1. Myself
2. Technology
3. Mountain goats
4. Poetry
5. Dexter
6. Proper Nutrition
7. Films
8. Media
9. Chuck Palahniuk
10. Awards of any type
11. Fear
12. The Wire
13. Honesty
14. Basketball
15. John Kijonek (Legend<3)
16. The Dark Knight
17. Cars
18. Shoes
19. Hip Hop
20. Controversy
21. Pain/Sadness
22. Jovana (my cat)
23. God of War
24. Flowers
25. The opinions of others

About The Author :)

BLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOGBLOG.

I'm new at blogging, so this should be fun =)

Shortly before five o'clock in the afternoon of a chilly November day a man is briskly pacing up and down in the waiting room of St. Joseph's Hospital in Hamilton, Ontario. Perspiration seeps through his pores and his anxiety peaks. His watch seems to have stopped ticking, or so it seems. The anticipation is colossal. He turns his head at every staff member walking by, just hoping for a glimpse of acknowledgment. Eventually, just as the last bit of his patience is depleting, a doctor touches him on the arm and says: "Mr. Vukobratovic, you have a perfectly healthy baby boy. Congratulations." That man was my father. If you haven't guessed, the baby was me :)

In all seriousness, I'm Dušan Vukobratovic and I'm a 17-year-old student currently in my final year of attendance at Orchard Park Secondary School. I have two very loving, very foreign Serbian parents who think "HIV" is a music store. I am surprisingly cautious about the way I live my life. I have never been bungee jumping, nor have I broken any bones. I have never traveled the world as much as I would like to yet (save for a few countries). I lead a quiet life that revolves around my friends and family, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I have a passion for movies and music of all genres. My name has been mispronounced more times than the Chinese alphabet but it's the name I was christened with and the name that represents who I am.

I have taken Writer's Craft to really broaden my horizons in the realm of writing. I am by no means a weak writer, yet I know there is still a great deal of room for personal improvement. Hopefully, by the end of the semester, I will possess all the traits of a good writer, most of which I feel I already have.

Shout-out to EWC4U, love you all<33



~Dušan