Pynchon

God bless you Vue Cinema at Star City! The only cinema in Birmingham showing "A Cock And Bull Story" on a Sunday morning. It suited me perfectly, but I had nightmares getting to the cinema to see it.

I left my house, saw a bus at the top of the road and ran for it. Doing this I managed to twist my foot. The bus driver was a gentleman and stopped the bus and waited for me, but it turned out not to be the bus that I wanted. I waited at the bus stop with a severe looking Chinese girl and a pretty girl in her late teens with large breasts (and a large arse as well, but that's OK). 20 minutes later the bus still had not arrived, so the severe looking Chinese girl crossed the road, went into a house, came out of the house a couple of minutes later with an equally severe looking middle aged Chinese lady, got into a car and drove away. I chatted to the pretty girl in her late teens with large breasts (and a large arse as well, but that's OK) about Marxist philosophy (not really) and eventually the bus came. I hobbled to the cinema and made it with 2 minutes to spare.



Was "A Cock And Bull Story" worth the effort? I think so. I have liked all of Michael Winterbottom's films that I have seen. (And yes, I even liked his porn/art film/music epic "9 Songs".) "A Cock And Bull Story" is very funny and very self knowing. It is a complete parody and send up of the movie making process, with various very well known British and American, or is that Canadian (Hi Gillian Anderson!), actors playing versions of themselves. Does this film have anything to do with the unfilmable novel "Tristram Shandy"? God only knows, because I don't. "A Cock And Bull Story" has died on it's arse in the UK. Shame.

I had my hair cut this afternoon. The lovely Ashlyn was off ill, so I was in the capable hands of Camp Harry. He has the lightest of touches. Very soothing. We talked about Peter Andre, Pete Burns, Leonardo Di Caprio and Keanu Reeves. All Gay icons, apparently. Camp Harry saw Peter Andre in concert last year and touched his hand. A religious experience by all accounts.

I had an argument with Lorraine this evening. In a phrase the equal of Noel Coward at this most cutting, she told me to "fuck myself". I said that I probably would as it would be the "best fucking going on in this house, recently", which seemed to aggravate her. Things are not good at the moment. We are winding each other up. We are both over tired. Lorraine has plans to get up at 5am tomorrow to be in work by 7am. She does not have to be in work before 9am. It is madness, but she will not be told.