Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

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Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Wed Jun 10, 2009 8:05 pm

NAOMI KLEIN

Born May 8, 1970 in Montreal, Quebec, Naomi Klein is a Canadian woman who wears many hats. She graduated from the University of Toronto and later studied at the prestigious London School of Economics. In her 38 years, she has been a journalist, an author, an activist, a film-maker and an assertive blogger. She has traveled the world many times as an intellectual in support of her political causes. Her books have been translated into 28 languages.

She has been one of the chief supporters of the anti-corporate globalization movement. Her position was first published in the book No Logo, which was released in 2000. One of the main concerns addressed in this book was the exploitation of poor workers by multinational corporations operating in third world countries. Klein later published a series of articles and speeches in another book called Fences and Windows, which came out in 2002.

Her latest book, The Shock Doctrine, was released in 2007. It quickly became a bestseller on the New York Times list and was made into a short film on YouTube. This book was criticized by Johan Norberg, a Swedish writer who has promoted globalization and libertarian views in his work entitled In Defense of Global Capitalism. Other criticisms originated from The Economist, which claimed that Klein's books have all been bestsellers from which she has profited.

In summary, Naomi Klein is a force to reckon with. She was ranked first in a listing of the world's top 100 public intellectuals by the editors of Prospect magazine. Her crusade continues to this day on her blog at naomiklein. org.
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Wed Jun 10, 2009 8:08 pm

HOPE

There is hope
Where there is love
There is joy
Soaring like a dove
There is peace
Where there is liberty
There is bliss
It ends in harmony
There is faith
Where darkness ends
There is light
Circles of friends
There is hope
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Wed Jun 10, 2009 8:13 pm

CEMETARY GIRL

You roam in the darkness
It's when you're most at home
The sun is your enemy
The moonlight is your guide
You wander for hours
You glide aimlessly through the night
Searching for something, someone

You like to roll the bones, look past your tombstones
Cemetary girl
Your crucifix is king, the way you shake that thing
Cemetary girl
You pined your life away, but that was yesterday
Cemetary girl

You're scared of being hurt
The way he abandoned you
You hate risking everything
You won't throw it all away
You don't know who to trust
They burned you in the past
Deserted you with no warning

He's your valiant knight, It's love at first sight
Cemetary girl
Try him on for size, look into his eyes
Cemetary girl
He'll turn you upside down, make you lose that frown
Cemetary girl

He's the most captivating man
He rides in on his dark horse
He mystifies you with his magic
He is an absolute enigma
You're entranced by his aura
He discloses nothing and everything
He is a complicated mystery

He's not a vampire stud, he'll never drink your blood
Cemetary girl
He holds a precious key, he's your eternity
Cemetary girl
He's got a band of gold, to have and to hold
Cemetary girl

He'll give you wings to fly, You know you love that guy
Cemetary girl
Just give him a chance, this gothic romance
Cemetary girl
Your inhibition's gone, you know he turns you on
Cemetary girl

Cemetary girl, oh cemetary girl
Cemetary girl, cemetary girl
Cemetary girl, cemetary girl
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Wed Jun 10, 2009 8:19 pm

RANDOM CRAP I PICKED UP FROM SEX & THE CITY:
1. English is not the universal language of the world. Sex is.
2. Writers are no different from musicians. Every worthwhile project takes time. This applies to relationships as well. A product should never be rushed. Rome wasn't built in a day.
3. Once finished, any work of art (be it a book, a song, or a relationship) should have a release party and a tour. It's called PR.
4. Even penthouses have mice. Rodents don't discriminate between the rich and poor. Frying pans are more effective for killing vermin than those cheap mouse traps you find at Walmart.
5. Manhattan is obscenely expensive, but millions of people will never leave it. Their relationships, fulfilling careers, and life experiences are priceless.
6. He's just not that into me. But what if I'm not into him?
7. There are a lot of assholes in this world--both men and women.
8. If you do finally marry someone, then you are also marrying his family.
9. Childless women have a greater chance of contracting breast cancer than mothers. My cousin and my grandmother both had it. Most women don't die from it though.
10. I looked for SATC a year ago and couldn't find it. Then I stumbled on it by accident last month when I was shopping for wiccan herbs. You always find whatever you're looking for... after you've stopped searching.
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Wed Jun 10, 2009 8:56 pm

THE 7 DEADLY SINS:

1. PRIDE: Someone once said, "pride goeth before the fall." Pride is often equated with vanity and excessive effort into one's appearance. In the workplace, this can be manifest by a failure to ask for help when it is needed or an inability to admit when you've made a stupid mistake.

2. ENVY: This is the green eyed-monster that takes control of us when we see people who have more than we do. It's about keeping up with the Joneses. At the office, this may take the form of backbiting or failing to acknowledge your co-workers successes. It can become destructive when it turns into an obsession which affects your ability to do your job.

3. ANGER: An inability to control one's temper can destroy your reputation and affect your credibility. Many employers prescribe anger management courses for those who need it. Employees with serious anger issues rarely get promoted because they will not be able to motivate or effectively lead other people. Everyone gets angry now and then. The key is to channel that anger in constructive ways that will benefit the organization.

4. GREED: Greed is a result of selfishness and a lack of concern for others. In organizations where resources are finite, such individuals can negatively impact the bottom line. These employees might be able to achieve the company's short-term goals, but they will substantially weaken or destroy the firm in the long-run.

5. SLOTH: Laziness will ruin any company or home. When tasks are not completed in a timely manner, the organization or family suffers. Companies often become bankrupt and many marriages are dissolved as a result of sloth. While the lazy person is content to be idle, his colleagues are achieving success and advancing to higher levels in the meantime.

6. GLUTTONY: When a person puts too much emphasis on one area of his life, then he or she is destined to become a failure. Sometimes more is less. Extreme success in the workplace often comes at the expense of an employee's personal life. It is important to maintain a proper work-life balance.

7. LUST: Many of us want things that we can't have. We may often think the grass is greener on the other side. The only cure for this is to focus on what you do have. Remember that there are always people in this world who have more and less than you. In regards to personal relationships, there are counselors specifically trained for this problem. Sex fiend or nymphomaniac, you know the drill.
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Mon Jun 15, 2009 7:35 pm

ANNIHILATION

There once was an accountant named Phil. He was a thirty-year-old carefree womanizer. He spent most of his college years chasing assorted women. However, he was unable to commit to any of them. Dinners were eaten, words were exchanged, and many hearts were trampled on. Millions of tears were shed for this unfeeling man. He eventually moved on to becoming a CPA at a top firm. Needless to say, he remained a bachelor.

One day Phil got the idea into his head that he should search for a steady woman to keep him company in his quiet nights at home. The idea of course was to make those nights less quiet. He also needed a uniform source of sexual gratification. The threat of sexually transmitted diseases always seemed to be looming in the distance.

Phil decided to get his hair done at Yonkers Beauty Salon. He enjoyed his new haircut so much that he invited his stylist Katrina out on a date. Being the happy single girl that she was, Katrina agreed to the outing without hesitation.

A day later, Katrina went to see "The Hangover" with Phil. They both enjoyed the movie immensely. It was a wonderful comedy that lifted their spirits. Phil remembered his college days and longed to visit Las Vegas one more time in order to sow his wild oats.

After the film, Phil drove Katrina home in his BMW. She told him she had a nice time. He immediately asked her out on a second date. However, he was not her type, so she declined the offer. Instead, she bid Phil farewell and took his right arm with her as a souvenir.

The following day, Phil went to work with only his left arm and two legs remaining. He was still rather lonely. With his one good arm, he wrote a note to Dora, the receptionist at his firm, and asked if she would kindly take him to dinner that night. Dora agreed and drove him to the Italian Villa for lasagna and calamari.

Dinner was delicious and the conversation was delightful. Phil enjoyed Dora's company tremendously. After the meal had ended, she gave him a lift to his home in her Camaro. He liked her personality so much that he decided to ask her to a folk music festival the next month. However, Dora decided it would be better if they just remained friends since they were coworkers, and they needed to see each other everyday. If they ever broke up then their jobs could be jeopardized.

While she was dropping Phil off at his house, Dora decided to take Phil's right leg with her as a memento of the time they spent together. As a result, one-armed Phil had to hobble on his left leg to get to his porch. He did however manage to find a broomstick to use as a makeshift crutch.

The following day, Phil took a cab to work. Having one arm and one leg made it impossible for him to drive. He could neither steer the wheel nor reach the gas pedal. At the office, he borrowed a colleague's secretary to take his dictation and to help him manage his audit files.

However, the loneliness persisted. So Phil asked his secretary, Janis, to take him to a football game. She agreed out of pity for this man who had only one arm and one leg. Janis drove Phil to the football game in her Porsche. It belonged to her father so she had to drive it carefully. Phil's team won. This made him and Janis very happy. They both had the time of their lives.

After the football game, Janis drove Phil back to his quiet little bungalow. He asked her if she would like to accompany him to the World of Wheels exhibit at the arena the following week. However, Janis was not a car enthusiast. She politely said "No" to Phil's offer. Instead, she took his left arm as a reminder of their wonderful night out. It was bound to provide many wonderful memories of Phil.

Phil now had just one leg and no arms. He hobbled back to his house and kicked the door open with his leg. Obviously, he was unable to go to the office the next day. So he used the toes on his left leg to call in sick for work. His boss was very understanding and wished Phil a speedy recovery.

A neighbor named Margaret rang Phil's doorbell later that morning. He called out to her to let herself in. She was mortified to find this man with no arms and only one leg. Out of pity, she made him bacon and eggs. She fed him his meal since he couldn't feed himself. Phil asked if she could stay longer to help him with his daily activities. However, Margaret was a retail manager and had to go to work herself. On her way out she accidentally twisted his remaining leg and dragged it unknowingly to her car. She then sped off to the mall to sell ladies' shoes.

As a result, Phil had no arms and no legs. He rolled himself onto his beanbag chair. How he would survive was anyone's guess. Out of boredom, he started singing to pass the time. Another neighbor named Rita heard him singing. His voice was pleasing to her ears. She rang his doorbell to see how he was doing. He invited her in. She screamed in terror at this man who had no limbs. Then Phil began to cry when he realized that he had turned into a circus freak.

The sight was overwhelming and gut-wrenching. Rita couldn't bear to look at Phil without crying a river of tears. She had no idea to deal with the horrible situation at hand. Then she called 911 for an ambulance to take Phil away. After bidding him "Goodbye," she took Phil's internal organs with her and went home to watch her favorite soap opera.

All of Phil was obliterated in the end, including his heart.
Annihilation.
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Wed Jun 17, 2009 4:09 pm

THE KNITTED MAN

Many years ago in a land far away, a ten-year-old boy named Sebastian and his younger sister Ingrid went to live with their Uncle Rudolf. It was their summer vacation, and their parents had gone to Argentina on a mission to help the poor. Uncle Rudolf was a retired history professor who was left in charge of the children while their parents did their missionary work. He had a modest brick bungalow on the edge of the Black Forest. In spite of his best efforts, he found it difficult to keep the children entertained.

"Come on, children," Rudolf said. "Go amuse yourselves. You're on holidays."

"What's there to do around here besides hiking?" Sebastian asked.

"Go play Halo or surf the internet," Rudolf replied.

"I'm tired of the internet," Ingrid answered. "It's so boring. You've got it filtered."

"Run along now," Rudolf advised them. "Go for a stroll in the park. But whatever you do, stay out of the forest. It's much too dangerous for little children. "

Sebastian and Ingrid put on their cloaks and left Rudolf alone to read his newspaper beside the fireplace. They hiked though the grassy fields behind Uncle Rudolf's house until they came to a park. It was not a playground. There were no swing sets nor teeter totters. There were only two park benches, a soccer field and a small pond. No fish were swimming in the pond. There were no other children playing in the park. It was empty.

"This park is really dull," Ingrid remarked.

"It's a rural area," Sebastian said. "That's why there's no other children to play with."

"I don't see any goldfish in the pond," she noticed.

"Maybe they were poisoned by lead or mercury," he suggested.

"Why would they be poisoned?" she asked.

"They pick it up from the water, the soil, or from eating other fish that are poisoned."

"That's terrible!" Ingrid exclaimed. "Let's get out of here."

Ingrid ran out of the sinister park as fast as her eight-year-old legs would carry her. Then she sauntered over to a green forest filled with pine and fir trees. A wrought iron gate prevented her from entering the thicket.

"Ingrid!" Sebastian called. "Don't go into the forest. Uncle Rudolf will be angry with us."

"It's just a bunch of trees," she told him. "We're in broad daylight. We'll only be gone for an hour. Uncle Rudolf won't know if we don't tell him."

"You're gonna get us in trouble!" he admonished her.

"Be quiet and climb over with me," she challenged. "It'll be fun."

Ingrid latched onto the iron rails and climbed over the fence. Sebastian followed a minute later. The two children walked slowly through the forest. It was still except for a couple of eagles that flew swiftly overhead.

"Why do they call it the Black Forest?" Ingrid asked. "It's green. Hee Hee."

"It's probably because the trees are so close together," Sebastian guessed. "They look black from a distance."

"Look over there, Sebastian," she pointed. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Those must be the All Saint's Waterfalls," he decided.

"And there's a castle next to them, just like in England."

"It's not a castle," he corrected her. "It's a monastery...the All Saint's Abbey."

"There's a bunch of horses behind the abbey. Aren't they cute?"

"They're called the Black Forest Foxes," he said. "They used to be bred for field work."

"They're so much to see!" she cried. "Aren't you glad we came?"

"We can't stay long," he reminded her. "Uncle Rudolf will think we've been kidnapped."

The children walked past the falls and entered a gorge. A herd of cows mooed in the distance. Then they came to a clearing devoid of trees. A stagnant stream wound its way through the clearing in an snakelike shape.

"What happened here?" Ingrid wondered. "Where did all the trees go?"

"This part of the forest was clear cut by the loggers," Sebastian answered.

"It's so ugly," she replied. "Loggers must be mean and ugly people to ruin a forest."

"Could be," he agreed. "Let's find a happier place to play."

Sebastian and Ingrid continued their stroll through the forest on a footpath. They arrived at a modern two-storey building in the center of the greenery.

"What a beautiful house!" Ingrid exclaimed.

"That's not a house," Sebastian said. "It's the Clock Museum. We can't go in. Perhaps some other time when we're on a proper outing with grownups."

"There's a Clock Museum? Really?"

"They have clocks from all over the world in there," he replied. "They date from prehistoric times to the present."

"How do you know so much about everything, Sebastian?" she asked.

"I read my encyclopedias when you're playing with your stupid dolls," he mocked.

"They're not stupid," she countered. "They're pretty and delicate."

"Whatever," he mumbled. "We've got to find our way out of here before it gets dark."

The children turned around and left the Clock Museum behind them. They came to a creek on the other side of the thicket. The water was stirring slightly. There was something moving below the surface. It was creating tiny bubbles in the creek. Suddenly a giant earthworm poked its head up from the water. It scared the children profoundly. They recoiled in horror.

"Don't be afraid," the worm assured them. "I won't hurt you."

"What are you?" Ingrid interrogated him.

"Well if you want the technical term," he replied. "I'm a Lumbricus badensis."

"You're a what?" Sebastian asked.

"I'm a giant earthworm," he replied. "I'm a friend of the forest...a vital part of the ecosystem."

"I don't like worms," Ingrid admitted. "They're slimy, and creepy."

"Hey, watch it!" the worm berated her. "I've got feelings, you know."

"We're sorry we disturbed you, Mr. Worm," Sebastian apologized. "We've got to go home now."

"Apology accepted, little one," the worm assured him. "Time for you to move on, but beware of the Knitted Man."

"Who's the Knitted Man?" Ingrid asked.

The worm made no reply. Instead he quietly sunk below the surface. The children would never see nor hear from him again. He merely passed along an important message. Everyone comes into our lives for a reason after all.

The two children continued on their hiking trail. They arrived at a gigantic mountain range. Ingrid was eager to climb the peaks, but Sebastian reminded her that they needed to leave the forest before dusk. After all, it was an impromptu journey brought about by a young girl's whims. They had neither camping gear nor food in their possession.

Ingrid found a sandstone cave beside the mountains. She ran excitedly into the tunnel. There was no stopping her once she was off on a tangent. Powerless and exhausted from the hike, Sebastian followed her into the hollow. He was committed to bringing her back home safe and sound. Losing his sister in the forest was not an option.

The cave was a dusty chamber filled with stalactites and stalagmites. Ants and spiders patrolled the sandy floor. Guided by the sunlight peering through the walls of the cave, the children passed by an underground pool. They washed their hands and feet in the fresh water. Then they continued through the abyss until they found an alcove. Beside it was a fire. There was no doubt about it. Life existed in the cave.

"Hello!" Ingrid called. "Is anybody here?"

"I knew this was a bad idea," Sebastian scolded her. "Let's get out of here."

Suddenly a figure appeared from a dark corner in the alcove. It appeared to be a man wrapped from head to foot in green yarn. His hair and flesh were not visible. He was completely covered in a giant sweater.

"I am here," the figure replied. "This is my home."

"Are you a mummy?" Ingrid asked.

"I'm a man, a human being just like you two," he answered.

"Do you have a name?" Sebastian asked.

"I am Klaus," he said. "That was the name given to me by my parents."

"Are you the one whom the animals call 'The Knitted Man?' " Ingrid asked.

"That I am," said the man in yarn. "I was struck by lightning many years ago. It burned my entire body. A kind faerie in the forest took pity on me and knitted some green sweaters to hide the scars. "

"You poor man," Ingrid remarked. "I suppose you're lucky to be alive."

"Yes, it was an act of God," Klaus agreed. "I am unable to live in regular society because of my disfigurement."

"Why is it called an 'act of God?'" Ingrid asked. "Why would God hurt someone so completely?"

"'An act of God' is just a term used to describe an event that is beyond human control, such as a natural disaster," Klaus explained. "As a result of my scarring near-death experience, I have learned to appreciate life and to be self-reliant."

"The animals in the forest are scared of you," Sebastian commented.

"They're scared of me because they don't know me," Klaus said. "I look like a monster without my knitted bandages."

"Can we see what you look like underneath?" Ingrid asked.

"I doubt it would be a good idea," Klaus answered.

"Yeah, some things are better left to the imagination," Sebastian agreed.

"Will you join me for tea and crumpets?" Klaus asked.

"Of course we will," Ingrid answered for both of them.

The Knitted Man buttered three crumpets. He boiled water using the fire. Then he poured three cups of peppermint tea. The party sat down casually beside the fire.

"Don't drink the tea," Sebastian whispered in Ingrid's ear. "We don't know this man. He's a complete stranger."

"It's all right," Klaus told them. "You don't need to drink the tea. My late wife never liked peppermint either. But please, help yourself to a crumpet. They're fresh. I baked them this morning."

"Wait for him to drink the tea first," Sebastian whispered. "And don't eat your crumpet until he finishes his."

The children watched the Knitted Man eat his buttered crumpet. The biscuit was rather dry, so he washed it down with his cup of tea.

"Not bad," Klaus declared. "My baking gets better year after year."

"You can have my tea," Ingrid gave him her cup.

"Take mine too," Sebastian said. "I only drink soda pop."

"Very well," Klaus replied. "I'll have to switch to Earl Grey. Even the earthworms in the forest hate peppermint."

The Knitted Man drank the rest of the tea. After the meal was over, he was still as healthy as a horse. The tea was not poisoned as Sebastian and Ingrid had feared that it might be. However, the crumpets were dry and somewhat tasteless. The children didn't bother to finish eating them.

"Thank you for this picnic," Ingrid said.

"You're welcome," Klaus replied.

"We must get going, or Uncle Rudolf will scold us to no end," Sebastian reminded.

"Farewell, dear children," said the Knitted Man. "Visit again, if you wish."

Sebastian and Ingrid left the Knitted Man alone beside the fire in the cave. They wandered through the forest aimlessly for another hour. They were actually lost. Then Ingrid got an idea in her head to ask the One who created the lightning that struck the Knitted Man if he would guide them back to their house. Eventually the children found the wrought iron fence at the end of the forest. They climbed over the gate and ran back to Uncle Rudolf's house.

"We learned something today," Sebastian said.

"What did we learn?" Ingrid asked. "That crumpets are dry, or that giant earthworms can talk?"

"Not all strangers are evil," he explained. "Some of them come into our lives to help us or to teach us a valuable lesson."
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Sat Jun 20, 2009 1:40 pm

SOCKS

People will always need socks, especially when the weather is chilly. Socks are actually a lot like people. They come in pairs. There are many shapes, sizes and shades of socks. They can be found in white, black, blue, green, gray and every other color under the sun. They might last a week, a month or a year depending on the fiber of their being.

Over time, socks can become old or worn out. A few industrious people will resort to darning socks to prolong their lives. Many socks end up damaged beyond repair and must be set aside permanently or thrown away. They are usually given an informal burial in a household waste bin. There is no memorial service for a sock. One must simply accept the fact that it is gone and move on with his or her life.

Sometimes socks can become separated. In a few households, a person might find a misplaced sock and reunite it with its mate. But more often than not, a mate is lost forever, never to be seen again. A sock is often rendered useless once it loses its mate.

However, there is a rare breed of people referred to as artists. They have been known to create animal puppets out of stray socks. Using their sock puppets, they put on impromptu shows to the massive delight of pleasure seeking children all over the world.

In addition, a small number of unconventional individuals are bold enough to wear two different socks together. The alternative is to go about barefoot, which is not an option in colder climates. Mismatched socks are thought of as humorous and can be the subject of ridicule by shallow or biased third parties. We are socialized to believe that any sock must go with another sock of the same color, pattern and thread count. A white sock that is decorated with blue flowers cannot associate with a black sock embroidered in pink rabbits or purple ponies. Society frowns on this behavior and deems it unacceptable.

Needless to say, a person suffering from pneumonia will likely grab the two socks closest to him in order to ward off the chills. He will probably not care if the socks are both blue, black, green or emblazoned with golden stars. As long as his two socks keep his feet warm, then they are making a valuable contribution to his recovery.

Socks don't have to match to be useful accessories in our lives.
And so it is with people.
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Sun Jun 21, 2009 12:20 pm

This sock puppet is named Darryl.

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He doesn't have a brother named Larry.

He doesn't have a brother named Darryl either.
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Sun Jun 21, 2009 6:41 pm

RIP Evanescence
(1995-2009)

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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby grasking on Sun Jun 21, 2009 7:31 pm

They're considered goth?
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Sun Jun 21, 2009 8:19 pm

Wikpedia calls it goth.


Some guy

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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Sun Jun 21, 2009 8:23 pm

BARNES IS NOBLE

Benjamin Thomas Barnes was born August 20, 1981 in London, England. His mother Tricia is a psychotherapist, and his father Thomas is a professor of psychiatry. He attended Homefield Preparatory School and King's College School. After his graduation, he studied Drama and English Literature at Kingston University.

Barnes started his acting career in 2004 by doing theater. In addition, he briefly sang lead vocals in a band called Hyrise, which was in the preliminary trials to represent Britain in the Eurovision Song Contest. He starred in television programs for most of 2006. The following year, he played Dunstan in the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman's novel Stardust. He was also chosen for the role of Prince Caspian in The Chronicles of Narnia series 2007. Currently Barnes is filming The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which is the sequel to Prince Caspian. He is also stars opposite Jessica Biel in Noel Coward's comedy, Easy Virtue.

In the future, we will see him in as the title character in the film version of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. He has also been cast as Hamlet in Ophelia. Unfortunately his recent success has been overshadowed by Robert Pattinson of the Twilight series. This writer, however, has a tendency to root for dark-haired English underdogs.

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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Mon Jun 22, 2009 6:34 pm

A lost art
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The paper airplane
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Re: Gothic Schlock (essays and art)

Postby Francesca on Mon Jun 22, 2009 8:09 pm

CHALK ART

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