grices maxims
thse are the rules of conduct followed whilst in conversation. It describes how, when engaged in conversation, the two people involved follow a set of unconscious rules. These rules include:-

• being truthful: Don't speak of things you know to be false, don't speak of things for which you lack appropriate and acceptable evidence.
• maxim of quantity: the intervention has to bring enough information, it should not bring more information than neccessary
• being releveant: you must be relevant, however this does not account for subject changes.
• be clear: you must be clear and easy to understand, be brief, avoid ambiguity, be orderly, avoid obscurity of expression.

foucault

• We often talk about people as if they have particular attributes as 'things' inside themselves -- they have an identity, for example, and we believe that at the heart of a person there is a fixed and true identity or character (even if we're not sure that we know quite what that is, for a particular person). We assume that people have an inner essence -- qualities beneath the surface which determine who that person really 'is'. We also say that some people have (different levels of) power which means that they are more (or less) able to achieve what they want in their relationships with others, and society as a whole.  
• Foucault rejected this view. For Foucault, people do not have a 'real' identity within themselves; that's just a way of talking about the self -- a discourse. An 'identity' is communicated to others in your interactions with them, but this is not a fixed thing within a person. It is a shifting, temporary construction.  
• People do not 'have' power implicitly; rather, power is a technique or action which individuals can engage in. Power is not possessed; it is exercised. And where there is power, there is always also resistance.

i come from poem

I come from

I come from rustling paper and murmured lines

Backstage praying silently

From deep red curtains, ladders

Blinding lights on your eyes

From the chatter of voices

Easy distractions

And absolute silence together

From pineapple juice

Stacks of Strepsils

Proud smiles

And laughter

I come from music in the streets

Accents and colour

Tunnels underground

And the shadows of people, in suits

But I‘m stuck here

In Shenfield

?

?

The wolf’s jagged teeth tore through the flesh. Specks of blood flicked away from the kill, still fresh enough for blood to be pouring out of the gaping hole and dousing the wolf in a sticky red glaze. the beast now stood out, a deep auburn, against the pale snow.

Sam, a pale white with fear, backed off tenderly, not wanting to disturb this gruesome scene.

‘Just nature’s circle of life..’ Sam convinced himself. With each step Sam winced at the crunching snow beneath his feet. Each one was accompanied by a silent prayer and a glance toward the heavens to say thank you… That was until he felt the snap of a brittle branch under his feet. He cursed. Shit. The snap cut through the night like those jagged teeth cut through the deer’s hide. The pieces of silence being flung away from Sam to settle somewhere else in the forest.

The wolf eyes darted up for the first time from his kill, his panting breath sending coils of steam pouring from its jaw, a steam train ready to sprint and scream at Sam. The boy and the wolf locked eyes and froze.

The wolf had come across this kind before, when it was weak and scared. It was beaten and howled at, the stinging metal teeth were thrown at him through the bang of the deafeningly loud sticks. But it was strong now, the wolf. ‘And this was a young one’ it thought. A scared, shaking and helpless one.

 If the wolf could understand the ironic circumstances then that snarling smirk spreading across its face must be real.

That’s when it took its first bounding leap. Sam ducked out of the way and leapt over the wolf’s kill sprinting through the wood. The trees became a blur. The snow jumped into Sam’s eyes blinding him. He dodged side to side through the trees pounding his legs as hard as he can, maybe that would confuse the wolf? He daren’t glance back. Not to see that blood soaked horror.

Why did he enter this forest?

Why did he let curiosity get the better of him?

He’d been warned about the place, about its demons. But he had to see for himself didn’t he, he had to discover what caused that horrific noise, like the shriek of a baby, like the call of every animal before its savage murder, the sound of grinding, squealing desperation.  Now he was going to die. Dying without knowing. Dying for nothing. Dying in vain.

All of these thoughts pierced Sam’s brain like a bolt of lightning. He was still running, stumbling, toward death at the jaws of this monster. Or so he thought. Sam glanced back for one brief moment and the wolf had vanished. He was alone, completely and excruciatingly alone. But he was wrong again. There. In the shadows. A man.  No. Too tall to be a man. but it had all the features in the outline. The arms the legs, but no face. No face at all. Then he heard it again, that ghastly noise, and he realised. That was the moment he realised.

 Laughter.

It was this creature laughing at him.

 Then darkness.

 

By Charlie Noble