Barmy Blue's Bland Blog

Well, let’s see now. I’m in the common room now (I don’t have to go to business now). I’m just sitting here thinking will I ever see any of these people again? Sally’s off to university (but not the same one I’ve applied for) and I’m not sure about Jason. I think he mentioned something about doing something in the army but I’d need to clarify that, I’m probably wrong. I couldn’t exactly call them friends. I don’t use that term lightly. I didn’t even use it lightly when I met Tom. It took quite a while to earn my trust. Took me a while to earn his too. But since we’ve gone down different paths (it seems that for a while he thought we were still the same and made it seem like I was the only one driving a wedge between us. That may actually be true. But it’s probably for the best. He’s a bit more open than me, he’s more likely to make new friends somewhere. It’ll take me a bit longer. But, back to the point.) I couldn’t exactly call them friends. I don’t know that they call me, doubt its friend though. I’m happy to just think of acquaintance. Acquaintances of mine who I occasionally have the chance to talk to. I’m happy thinking that they think the same. There’s no point in making actual friends here now. Chances are I’ll never come back here again, if I can help it and the number of people I’ve seen since primary school is very few, and it’s only down the road from here so how many from here am I likely to see again? That’s assuming I can remember them. Faces aren’t that great for me, I have a habit of forgetting them, and faces change too, that doesn’t help. I often wonder what’s ahead. One thing I’ve noticed though, nothing is ever how I’ve imagined it and I do a lot of imagining, though it’s declined quite a bit since I was younger. Is that just because I’m getting older, I just don’t have the right inspiration or is it because what I imagine has matured? Once I wrote crappy stories with poor plots and two dimensional characters with silly names. Once, a while ago, I looked at one of them again. It wasn’t finished. The spelling and grammar were poor and anywhere I had a heroine do some kind of somersault (I always have them doing what I can’t or don’t, I guess it gives me a chance to live it I suppose) I’d word it something like ‘she jumped back and just avoided being stabbed’, sure, who wants to read something like that? I guess it doesn’t help that I always imagine it playing out like a film when I write it. It’s not that easy to write about those kind of things though. I’ve noticed it in Narnia. The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. The film adaptation focused mainly on the battle and not the resurrection of Aslan but the book had the resurrection of Aslan with detail but the account of the battle was given afterwards and didn’t include so much. Because you can’t really have an omniscient view of a battle because there’d be so much to say and you have to follow the protagonist(s) but include everything around them too. But you can’t really have a first person account either because that limits the field of vision too.
That makes me wonder. Can a book successfully be applied to film, to the letter? Mum had the Green Mile on cassette tape and she said the film was just like the story except for one or two minor scenes left out.
But seriously, could it really be done?
I’ve seen films based on books that I’ve read, 1984, Wuthering Heights, LOTR. None of them followed it exactly (though I’ll let LOTR off of the hook because there’s only so much you can fit into the film before people wet themselves, even though whole chapters and characters were left out).
The trouble is that films either cut things out, distort them or add in scenes that weren’t in the book.
Maybe it could be done, with an exceptional book and an exceptional film director, actors and crew.

Oh well, speaking of books, I’ve got chapter 10 to continue of that story (the one with the aspects of different mythologies).

Bluebiird out