Pynchon

Nicked from The Huggies Files, who nicked it from... somebody else.

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT? I have a small scar on my forehead that I obtained when I headbutted a fireguard when I was six months old. Apparently I cried so much my Gran thought that I was dying.
2. WHAT ARE ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM? A map of Europe, a calendar and some shelves full of junk.
3. WHAT DOES YOUR MOBILE LOOK LIKE? Haven't got a clue. I don't even remember the last time that I turned it on.
4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LIKE TO LISTEN TO? Anything and his dog. (That's not a band, by the way.)
5. WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO WHEN YOU HAVE NOTHING TO DO? There is always something to do. I just don't want to do it. So... Watch TV or go onto the Internet.
6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING? Happiness and security.
7. WHAT DO YOU MISS AT TIMES? My Dad.
8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION? I don't know. My computer?
9. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SMELL? Haven't got one.
10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC? Sometimes.
11. IF YOU DIED TOMORROW: I would be with Lorraine and my family.
12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY? Stupidly enough it was a guy called Billy Lyall. He was in the band Pilot who recorded a great and classic track called "Magic". They are using the song, but not Pilot's version, in an advert on the TV at the moment. Billy Lyall died in 1989 of an Aids related illness. I was thinking to myself that I hoped one of his last memories on his deathbed were of what a great song that was. There was a tear in my eye. I am a wuss.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE COLOGNE? Something by Calvin Klein, I suppose.
14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX? Er... Any hair will do, thanks a lot. Or bald. I don't mind.
15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF PROPOSING TO SOMEONE? On top of the tallest building in the world.
16. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD? Must be somebody at work. Who exactly, I couldn't say. There are no many candidates.
17. DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE? I speak fluent shite.
18. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU (OF THE OPPOSITE SEX)? "The Neon Rain" by James Lee Burke. It's a classic.
19. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING? Oh, yes. Tell me about it...
20. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU? Put it in writing.
21. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED: 22.
22. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN? My Mom's.
23. WHAT ANNOYS YOU THE MOST? Stupidity.
24. HAVE YOU EVER DONE A PRANK CALL? I don't think so. No.
25. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS SURVEY? Wrote an email.
26. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY, WHAT WOULD IT BE? Smaller stomach, maybe. It would be nice to have hair on the back of my head again, but I'm not that vain.
27. WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS SURVEY? It seemed like a good idea at the time.
28. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR PIZZA? Anything except strong cheese.
29. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL? I hope that it would not bother me. So, nothing.
30. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? Clothes.
31. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF IT SUDDENLY STARTED RAINING BLOOD? Shut the windows.
32. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Yes. My two Grandad's.
33. DO YOU WISH ON STARS? Nope.
34. WHICH FINGER[S] IS YOUR FAVORITE? The middle one.
35. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? See 12.
36. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? My handwriting is an abomination. Thank God I did typing at school.
37. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE LUNCH MEAT? Chicken.
38. ANY BAD HABITS? I bite my nails.
39. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF? I used to have the Best of Tracey Ullman. (Eeek!)
40. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? No. Too much like hard work.
41. HAVE YOU EVER TOLD A SECRET YOU SWORE NOT TO TELL? Yes, but years later.
42. DO LOOKS MATTER? Sadly, initially, yes.
43. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER? Swear and bang my desk.
44. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME? My Mom's.
45. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY? No.
46. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVOURITE TOY AS A CHILD? My comics. Does that count?
47. WHAT CLASS IN SCHOOL DO YOU THINK IS TOTALLY USELESS? Don't know.
48. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? This blog.
49. DO YOU USE SARCASM? You don't think?
50. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT? Yes. The Ramones '85, Voice Of The Beehive '88, R.E.M. '89, Blur '94. Others. Then I became old and decrepit.
51. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GIRL? Up for anything.
52. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES? The Pynch?
53. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No way.
54. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Yes.
55. DO YOU THINK THAT YOU HAVE STRONG POINTS? Yes.
56. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOUR? Don't really have one.
57. WHAT IS YOUR SHOE SIZE? 7.
58. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE COLOURS? Purple and Red.
59. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE? No idea.
60. WHO DO YOU MISS MOST RIGHT NOW? Difficult to say.
61. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS? Some people. Whoever feels like it.
62. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The computer.
63. LAST THING YOU ATE? Pasta.
64. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? A guy in the Jersey Islands.
65. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX? Their mind, of course. (Bollocks! Tits and legs.)
66. HOW ARE YOU TODAY? Better than yesterday.
67. FAVOURITE DRINK? Tea.
68. FAVOURITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Don't know.
69. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SPORT? Football.
70. HAIR COLOUR? Brown with highlights (e.g. grey).
71. EYE COLOUR? Green.
72. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES? For reading only.
73. SIBLINGS? One Brother and Three Sisters still here. Two Brothers part of the great beyond.
74. FAVOURITE MONTH? August.
75. FAVOURITE FOOD? Don't know. Curry and chips?
76. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? "X-Men: The Last Stand".
77. FAVOURITE DAY(S) OF THE YEAR? Holidays.
78. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT? I never asked anybody out. That's how shy I was. I was seduced by an older (by nearly 3 years) lady.
79. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter.
80. HUGS OR KISSES? Kisses.
81. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE-NIGHT STANDS? Relationships.
82. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING RIGHT NOW? "Destination: Morgue!" by James Ellroy.
83. WHAT’S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? The logo of an old Internet Provider that does not exist anymore.
84. FAVOURITE BOARD GAME? Haven't got one.
85. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? "C.S.I. : Crime Scene Investigation" and "Lost" . (Jesus Christ! That was an episode and a half.)
86. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE? Oh, fucking hell!

Phew! That took longer than expected.

Had some good news today, but I'll go into that closer to the time. Don't want to jinx anything.

Night.

Rotten day at work.

I got stuck with a problem with the product in an area that I know very little about. The customer was not impressed. I think that my hesitation was showing in my voice. I had a guess at the solution (Nobody to ask, you see, because everybody on the new product who used to work on the old product is suffering from fucking software amnesia! Documentation? What fucking documentation?) and tried it. It seemed to work OK. The customer disagreed. I reversed it and tried something else. I managed that and then the customer came back and said that the first solution was OK. By that time we were fucked.

Ah... You don't want to know. I was at it for hours. The afternoon was no better.

Bollocks to it. I'm off to watch "C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation" and then the "Lost" double bill. Lose myself in TV. It's a good choice.

But first... Correct the last posting. It is "X-Men: The LAST Stand" and not "X-Men: The FINAL Stand". Standards and all that. Gotta be accurate.

There was a small chance this morning that the day might have turned out nice, and that Lorraine might have consented to go to see "X-Men: The Last Stand" with Pynchon, Pynchon's Brother and Pynchon's Nephew, but it was not to be. More bad words. Pynchon walking out of the house. Pynchon getting soaked in a downpour while walking to the top of the hill to get a bus. The sun coming out while Pynchon was on the bus so leading to Pynchon steaming nicely while on the bus. The sun going back in and the rain coming out when Pynchon got off the bus. Pynchon getting soaked again while walking to his Brother's house and then to his Nephew's house.

(You don't really want to hear this, do you? Good.)

So, "X-Men: The Last Stand".



Frankly, Brett Ratner gets quite a bad press. He is described as a workmanlike Director and a journeyman Director. It's not the worst thing to be. Not everybody can be a genius Director like... (add your favourite here - I'll put David Lynch and David Cronenberg) and Brett Ratner has had some major hits ("Rush Hour", "Red Dragon" - was "After The Sunset" a hit? I liked that film a lot.)

The best thing I can say about "X-Men: The Last Stand" is that it is competent and will satisfy it's core audience. (My 10 year old Nephew thought that it was "Wicked".) It does suffer in comparison with "X-Men", and especially "X2", in that it lacks the strong emotional core of those two films. I also got the impression, perhaps wrongly, that a number of the cast were simply fulfilling contractual obligations to do the third film and as such only made extended cameo appearances. There were too many new characters, none of whom had very much to do. Hugh Jackman was subdued, Halle Berry was boring, Anna Paquin (down boy!) had nothing to do, Ben Foster - great story setup - but again, very little to do, ditto James Marsden. Thank God for Ian McKellen. He stole the film.

Shame. "X-Men: The Last Stand" is not a bad film, but it wasn't what it could have been. Roll on Bryan Singer's "Superman Returns".

Home. Things are OK. Lorraine and I did not argue. We watched TV all night. At one point she kissed me on the cheek. It was nice.

Today I have been to see "The King".



Gael Garcia Bernal plays a young man called Elvis, just discharged from the navy, who goes in search of the father he has never known. He finds him and discovers that his father is now a committed Christian and a church pastor. He approaches his father and then....

No, No, No! No more about "The King" here, because I will only spoil it. Go and see it yourself. It is an excellent movie. Atmospheric, ambiguous and eerie. William Hurt (who can annoy me a lot, but not today), Paul Dano and Pell James are all excellent, but Gael Garcia Bernal is simply astonishing in his portrayal of blank faced amorality and evil. Empire Magazine is right. Gael Garcia Bernal could easily play Patricia Highsmith's Mr. Ripley.

Highly recommended.

After the film I went to see my Mom. She is fit and fine, except that she is now looking at the possibility of buying a stairlift as she is finding it increasingly difficult to get up and down the stairs.

My Brother was at my Mom's. He asked me if he could tag along to the cinema tomorrow to see "X-Men: The Final Stand" with myself, Lorraine and my Nephew. I said OK, no problem. When I got home I told Lorraine that we were going to have company at the cinema. Lorraine was less than pleased. She does not like my Brother. Words were exchanged (in between the silences). Lorraine has now decided that tomorrow will be a Pynchon only event. Fine by me. I am getting increasingly sick of her irrational dislike of my family. They have done nothing to her. Boring. Change the record.

We are due to go out with my family next week for a joint Birthday meal for my Aunt, Sister 1 and Sister 2. Lorraine said that she is still going to go to that. I imagine that come the time she will find some reason not to go.

I don't know what to do now. I don't want to finish with Lorraine. I love her. Talk? She doesn't want to talk.

Last night Lorraine announced that she was going to work today to "Catch up on some things".

Er... OK, then. Let's forget all about the things we might have done together. (Gardening, buy a shed, look at computers, fondle each other, etc.)

So, since she fell asleep last night in the middle of "Just Like Heaven" (actually better than I remembered it), woke up with a start and announced she was going to bed, I have been left to my own devices.

Last night, until the early hours, I watched the second "Timeslip" story ("The Time Of The Ice Box") on DVD. It is dated (it was originally broadcast in 1970), but is still good. Today I chose not to go the cinema. (Don't faint.) I will see something tomorrow while Lorraine is having her hair done, and anyway, on Monday we are taking my Nephew to see "X-Men: The Final Stand" as part of this birthday present. Today I have walked the Earth like Caine, shopped for food and cat litter and bird food and other things, and checked out the pretty ladies in the street.

Ah... Lorraine is home. I had better go and cook her some some food before "Doctor Who" starts.

How many hours has she been out? She left before 8am and it is now... Checks... 17:45pm.

It's no life. Boring.

No posting last night. We went to see "The Da Vinci Code" at the Electric Cinema.



Where to begin...

"The Da Vinci Code" is as dull as ditch water. No drama. No passion. No urgency. No tension. No sense of danger. No chemistry between the leads whatsoever. And Tom Hanks was having a restful sleepwalk through his role. It was an average TV movie. Swap Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou for Bruce Boxleitner and Jaclyn Smith and you would have been hard pressed to notice the difference.

Boring.

A lot happens in the film, and it was full of good ideas, but any film that commits the Cardinal Sin (see what I did there?) of being boring is not a film that I want to see. I don't mind going to see a bad film, but I don't want to see a boring film. Great shame. I think done properly it could have been a top notch conspiracy thriller. Wrong Director and Screenwriter, maybe? Leaving the cinema I was thinking of what somebody like David Fincher and Andrew Kevin Walker might have done with the material.

I have not read the book, but Lorraine has. She liked the book a lot and said that the film was "slow" and that the interesting bits of backstory were relegated to just snippets in passing.

Halfway through the film I also guessed what the final revelation was going to be. I hate it when that happens.

Tonight I can be arsed, but only for 30 minutes. "C. S. I. : Crime Scene Investigation" is on, followed by the "Lost" double bill.

Yesterday was a 'mare of a day.

Lorraine had left me the cat litter to be changed. I did that. I washed. I dressed. I then discovered that Moon The Cat had decided to have a laugh and do a shit in his litter tray, the hallway, the living room and the kitchen. (He is not well. Lorraine insists that we give him a mixture of diabetic cat food and normal cat food, because he doesn't like the diabetic cat food on it's own and he would rather starve. Moon The Cat has moments.) Moon The Cat smiled at me. I swear it. He smiled at me. I didn't shout at him. That wouldn't have been right. I cleaned it up and missed my bus.

Work. Crisis after crisis. Several customers complaining about the service I'm supplying. Whatever. That particular issue will be addressed once The Company figure out a way to clone me and stick the other Pynchon at another desk, on another phone. The Company are not interested in doing anything to ease the pressure that I am under. I realise that. I work on the older product that lots of customers have already moved away from it and the remaining customers, that The Company have conveniently forgotten bring in a fair wedge of money, can go hang as far as they are concerned. It's a bad situation. I was in a bad mood all day. I snapped at people. I sent ratty emails. I was vocal in my displeasure. Lorraine came over to try to calm me down. I bit her head off and spat it across the room.

Home. Lorraine braced me on my attitude. She said that I am undermining her authority. I told her to fuck off. (Ah, that Oscar Wildean wit! It never leaves me.) I retired to the computer intending to write something about a film for a friend. I wrote a couple of pages and then deleted the lot because it was shit. (But I now know what I am going to write, so it was not a total waste.) I uploaded some music to my MP3 player ("Led Zeppelin", "Led Zeppelin III" and "The Magic Numbers"). I flicked through the tracks to check they were OK. I put the MP3 player on random and then I logged onto Blogger intending to knock something out.

And then I stopped.

The first track that came up on my MP3 player was "Nowhere Man" by the Beatles. I hope you know that song. It's one of Lennon's best. Written when he was up against the cosh because he needed to write an extra song for "Rubber Soul". He was stuck, getting nowhere and he wrote down the words, "Sitting in a nowhere land" and the song came out of that. Did John Lennon know me? That song was all about me. Fucking right it was.

The second song that came up was "I Am The Cosmos" by the late, brilliant Chris Bell. (Look him up if you are interested.) Another self analysis song. I was thinking about Vicky when that was playing and when it had finished, I gave up.

Music can be a terrible thing. It can put your head into a strange place. Or is that just me?

So, no. Last night I really couldn't be arsed.

Ah... I just can't be arsed...

Weekend report as follows.

1. Affirmative. (As of 11:30 on Saturday morning the house was spick and span. There was a slight crisis when Moon The Cat decided to have a stinky shit in his litter tray seconds after I had changed it, but I find that a cattle prod inserted up a feline arse can discipline a Cat remarkably well.) (Note to those with no sense of humour: I do not own a cattle prod, and if I did, I would not use it on a Cat. True, I might consider using a cattle prod on some of the managers' at work...)
2. Affirmative. (Nearly 50 quid - I think - from M&S. Real, fake Italian leather.)
3. Affirmative. (I was in the bank at 11:45. The queue stretched for miles. There was an old racist guy in the queue in front of me moaning and complaining to his bitch. He speculated that if a black guy were to walk into the bank and push into the front of the queue nobody would say a thing. I tapped him on the shoulder and told him that my Mom was black. Then I smiled. He never said a thing, Jim.) (Note to those who have ever wondered about my racial makeup: I am not black. Neither was my Mom. My maternal Grandfather was English, my maternal Grandmother was Italian. My paternal Grandmother was American, my paternal Grandfather was Irish. My paternal Grandmother's lover was Scottish - she married him later - great guy - he loved us like we were his own Grandchildren. It's a bit of a mess. Got all that? Good. There might be questions later.)
4. Affirmative. (Apparently it is the Knebworth '79 tour, which means that they will be playing the set that Led Zeppellin played when they appeared at... duh... Knebworth in 1979. I could lookup the set details. I won't. I want the surprise.)
5. Negative. (No time.)
6. Negative. (No time. I feel edgy. I always feel edgy when a weekend has gone by without me seeing a film at the cinema.)
7. Affirmative. (Booked for Wednesday evening. We got the last sofa seat. I was served by the petite redheaded? Girl who looks very arty and has been known to wear a beret. She is not my type at all, but for some reason I find her fantastically sexy. Perhaps it's the hat? Beret Girl said that they have sold all of the sofa seats for the week. Obviously people do not give a shit about the reviews, or did they book before the reviews came out?)
8. Affirmative. (I thought it was great. Last week's I thought was good, but probably the weakest episode of the current series so far. Spoiler!!! They have also setup a nice spin off with Mickey in the alternative Earth if they want to do it.)
9. Affirmative. (Rock 'n' Roll Finland! Absolutely dreadful. A major pisstake. Excellent. Will there be a wave of Death Metal bands applying for next year's contest? No. I don't think so. Does anybody know anything about Lordi? Are they supposed to be a good example of that genre? I know of Slipknot, but have never heard so much as a note of their music.)
10. Affirmative. (Horrendous. Fat people fighting over samples of whiskeys, brandies, liqueurs, orange juice, fruit juice, sausages, pork pies, scotch eggs, red wine, white wine, cognacs, scrumpy, bread, etc. And that was just Lorraine and me. Actually, it was not the greatest Food/Home show we have been to. It was a little low key. We purchased some cooking oils and sauces, breads and a couple of other things. Ian and Penny seemed to enjoy it. Penny purchased some fake yellow grass. Six foot high... Indeed.)
11. I have an 11! I purchased "Just Like Heaven" for Lorraine to cheer her up. It is a terrible film, but Lorraine liked it a lot when we saw it last year. To cheer myself up I purchased in a 3-for-18-quid offer, "Led Zeppellin", "Led Zeppellin III" and "The Magic Numbers".

Report over, except that things are still mellow. Lorraine has still not noticed the fridge magnet. It is pissing me off, now. Steps need to be taken.

Cow.

As the week draws to an end, I have started to make a list of things to do this weekend.

1. Clean the house. (Need to do that tomorrow. There will not be any time on Sunday.)
2. Buy new shoes. (All of my shoes have holes in them.)
3. Put a premium bond in the bank. (I won fifty quid.)
4. Buy a ticket for Whole Lotta Led at the Carling Academy. (They are a Led Zeppellin tribute band. Oh, shut up! I just fancy it. 23rd June 2006, if anybody is interested.)
5. Take Lorraine to lunch at Caffe Uno. (A while ago she made me apply for a Caffe Uno card, which gives 15% off the cost of any meal, and she wants to try it out.)
6. See something at the cinema. (There is lots on that I have not seen, but frankly nothing strikes me as essential viewing. I have no idea what to choose, but I will see something.)
7. Book a ticket for "The Da Vinci Code" at the Electric Cinema for Wednesday night. (The reviews have been catastrophic, but who cares? It will be a rare midweek night out for us and Lorraine is up for it.)
8. Watch "Doctor Who". (Essential, obviously.)
9. Watch "Eurovision Song Contest". (Go Finland! Haven't heard the song, but the Finnish band looks ridiculous. They have my vote.)
10. Go to the Food/Home show at the NEC on Sunday. (Lorraine's Step-Dad Ian and awful wife Penny are coming up for it. Lorraine has made me clean the bathroom in the event that Penny will want to have a poo before they depart.)
11. Stuck for a number 11.

Things are mellow at the moment. Lorraine was so tired last night that she had a lie in this morning until the disgraceful hour of 6:10. We chatted. We had a cuddle. I told her that her buttocks were magnificent. She disagreed. Mellow.

True, she hasn't noticed yet that the picture on the fridge magnet has changed...

Today Lorraine woke at 4:50am and left the house at 6:30am. She returned home at 8:50pm. She has been on a site visit all day with one of the ladies from the Training department at work, who looks like a horse. Lorraine has still not noticed that the picture in the fridge magnet has been changed.

Or has she? Is she playing some kind of diabolical Endgame...?

I won't sleep tonight.

Lorraine has replaced my picture in the fridge magnet with that of a couple. They are Dolores Rat (vile woman, I'm sure that I've mentioned her before) and Barry Rat (Dolores' husband and a man that Lorraine lived with for a while). I think it's funny. I have taken the picture out, hidden it and replaced it with a tasteful pencil drawing (produced in 10 seconds) of two matchstick men. L. S. Lowry would have been proud. Lorraine hasn't noticed yet. She will. :-)

Other news? Frankly, not very much.

Bobby Blue, who had the stroke, is now out of hospital. According to Lana, Bobby is responding well to treatment. We hope to go to see him soon.

I have finished "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone". It's OK, but I have no real inclination to jump into the next "Harry Potter" book. I have started reading "Destination: Morgue!" by James Ellroy. I like James Ellroy a great deal. I once had the great pleasure to meet him at a reading/Q&A/signing he gave at Waterstones. My questions (unsuprisingly) were all about the films of his novels; especially "L. A. Confidential". James Ellory did not like Kevin Spacey or Russell Crowe very much at all in "L. A. Confidential", but he thought that Guy Pearce stole the film.

Val Guest, Director of my favourite film of all time "The Day The Earth Caught Fire" died on 10th May 2006. RIP Val.

And finally... Bad luck Arsenal. Better luck next time.

A bit of news tonight. 3 hours of TV awaits me from 9pm.

Do you remember when Lorraine and siblings contested her Mom's will? It was a bad business, all around. Claims and counter claims and so on and so forth. As you might remember the bit that aggravated me especially was that Lorraine and I ended up funding the legal action, on the promise that we would be reimbursed by her Brother and Sister, once the settlement was complete. I know that I was reimbursed. I'm not altogether sure that Lorraine has had all of her money back. It's a sore point and not one that I am going to go into here.

Lorraine's Mom's Boyfriend, a walking streak of piss that I will call Eric Steptoe, caused a lot of pain and anguish. We suspected that the will was compromised when Lorraine's Mom was in the final stages of cancer, but there was nothing we could do to prove it.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, Eric is dead. Apparently it was liver failure. Lorraine's sister Ellen found out and she phoned Lorraine straight away. Lorraine was charitable. She is a Christian. She hoped that his death was quick and painless.

Sadly I am not a Christian and I am not inclined to be charitable when discussing a cunt. I hope that the money gave him nothing but shit and that his money grabbing children, who avoided him like the Aids virus while he was alive, enjoy it even less. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on.

Perhaps God will strike me down now?

No?

Still here.

Perhaps He agrees with me?

(If anybody thinks less of me now, never mind. I forgive you.)

Yesterday, Lorraine purchased one of those picture frame fridge magnet's, into which she has put a picture of me taken at Barcelona's Nu Camp in 1999. (Barcelona was one of the stops on the cruise that we took that year.) In the picture I am tanned, thinner and have more hair. I am smiling and pointing at a picture hanging in the hall of fame. (I suppose it is Aston Villa in the picture. I cannot remember.) Lorraine has said that she has done this to inspire me to get back to how I used to be. It has done nothing of the kind. I am even more depressed.

I asked her if she wanted to go upstairs for a fumble. She declined. I asked her if she ever intended to fumble with me ever again. She said, "Who's to know?" and I said that perhaps we should forget all about it and I employ the services of a prostitute if and when required. She said that I should do what the fuck I like.

Charming.

Whatever.

It pains me to admit it but I saw on "Mission: Impossible III" on Sunday and I thought it was rather good.



It's not perfect by any means (that happy, clappy ending is just awful) but it is a million times better than the first two instalments and has several great set pieces to get your teeth into (especially the rescue of the Keri Russell's captured IMF agent, the Vatican City kidnapping and the attack on the bridge sequence). Great stuff and mostly about the team. Why didn't they do this kind of "Mission: Impossible" movie 10 years ago? J. J. Abrams and Co. did good. Also, very nice to see a typical "Alias" flash forward opening to the movie.

I have a joke. Those inclined towards the politically correct may as well look away now.

An Englishman, and Irishman and a Scotsman were sitting in a bar. The view was fantastic, the beer excellent, and the food exceptional.
"Y'know", said the Scotsman, "I still prefer the pubs back home. In Glasgow there's a little bar called McSweaty's. The wee guv'nor goes out of his way for the locals so much that when you buy 4 drinks he'll buy the 5th drink for you."

"Well", said the Englishman, "at my local, the Cottage, the barman there will buy you your 3rd drink after you buy the first 2."

"Ahhh that's nothin'", said the Irishman. "Back home in Dublin there's Murphy's bar. Now the moment you set foot in the place, they'll buy you a drink, then another, all the drinks you like. Then when you've had enough drinks they'll take you upstairs and see that you get laid. All on the house".

The Englishman and Scotsman immediately poured scorn on the Irishman's claims, but the Irishman sweared that every word was true.

"Well", said the Englishman in disbelief, "Did this actually happen to you?"

"Not me myself, personally, No," said the Irishman. "But it did happen to me sister."

I'm off to have a read and then I might have a... Er... Wank. Yeah.

Today I went to see "Brick".



Yes, it's all been done before in a million Philip Marlowe/Sam Spade/Mike Hammer thrillers, but the central conceit of setting it in the world of teenagers, high school and the cliques thereof are what makes "Brick" a work of genius. The obsessed anti-hero, a missing girl in trouble, femme fatales, a mysterious crime boss and his unhinged heavy. Yup. All present and correct. Fucking brilliant. One of the best films of the year. I will buy "Brick" the second that it comes out on sell through.

My Mom is not as daft as she looks. I went to see her today. Her first words to me were, "Lorraine doesn't come around with you much anymore. Is everything OK?" I said that it was and she said, "You don't look very happy, Son." We talked about my attendance at a joint birthday meal for my Aunt, Sister 1 and Sister 2 planned for June and she asked me if Lorraine would be attending. "I don't know" said I.

As I said, not as daft as she looks. Nice visit, though. Sister 1 and my Niece and my Brother were there. We took the piss out of each other for a couple of hours. Always a popular way for the Pynchon's to show affection to each other.

Sometimes I wish I could disappear.

Bad movie club.

"Mission: Impossible".

A textbook example of how not to do a cinema adaptation of a much loved (by me at least) TV classic. There's gonna be spoilers. Shut your eyes now.

1. Only one of the characters in the TV series makes it into the movie. (IMF team leader Jim Phelps. No Rollin' Hand, no Cinnamon Carter, no Barney Collier, no Willy Lupus. There were others from the later series that they could have used as well. Paris, Dana Lambert, etc.)
2. They turn Jim Phelps into a fucking traitor. (Bollocks! Jim Phelps was the TV's coolest spymaster and he would never in a million years have turned into a traitor.)
3. Jim Phelps is married? And his missus is part of the team? (WTF?)
4. They kill off the entire team (bar the missus, who is also a traitor) in the first 20 minutes and turn it into Tom-Cruise-Lone-Super-Spy-With-Hired-Hands. (Double Bollocks! The series was always about the team and (mostly) they all had equal screen time.)
5. No cameos from the original cast. (Outrageous! Martin Landau and Peter Graves are not still working actors? Barbara Bain is on record as saying that if she had been asked she would have done a cameo.)
6. It's boring. (The series was never boring.)
7. It's slow. (The series was never slow.)
8. It's style over substance. (The series had those intricate and ingenious clockwork plots. What more substance do you need?)
9. Foremost it is a star vehicle for Tom Cruise to show how good he is and as such is pointless.
10. And don't get me started on "Mission: Impossible II". Empty, slow, dull, boring, a wasted Anthony Hopkins, shit, shit, shit, shit. (Did you know that co-stars Dougray Scott and Thandie Newton both lost out on major roles because of that abomination over running as Cruise and Director John Woo fought for creative control? Dougray Scott was cast as Wolverine in "X-Men" and Thandie Newton as Alex Munday in "Charlie's Angels" and both had to pull out because of reshoots. I would have been well pissed off myself.)
11. Bollocks. Fuck. Shit. Cunt (and other incoherent sounds of rage).

Ah... I feel better now. I did like the bit with Cruise breaking into the vault. Very good.

I was going to try to write a proper analysis, but obviously it has not turned out that way. I really loved the original "Mission: Impossible" TV series and my impression after coming out of the cinema was that they had pissed all over it. It was just so totally wrong. I have no problem with updating the format. Give it explosions and car chases and globe trotting and character development, but be true to what it was about ,which was the caper, the heist, the con and the team. Always the team.

Bad, bad film. I am getting angry again... My shirt is splitting and my skin is turning green.

You might ask if I intend to see "Mission: Impossible III"? Sure I do. J. J. Abrams of "Lost" and "Alias" fame is in the Director's and co-writer's chair, and if there is a man who knows his way around a modern spy vehicle, especially after some of the top notch episodes of "Alias", it is he.

Blogger is acting like a bastard, so I'm not going to risk posting anything of any length tonight.

In the event that I don't lose all of this, please direct your browsers to here on Graham's blog, in which he conclusively demonstrates how Cinema Arseholes should be dealt with.

Graham is the man.

Back tomorrow.

I had plans, but the last two days have run away from me. (There they go! Over the hill! See Ya, Guys!)

Once I had got out of the way

1. Catching up on missed TV ("24" and "Rescue Me")
2. Watching normal TV ("C.S.I.: Crime Scene Investigation" - how black was that one? - and "Lost" - the Hanso Foundation? WTF?!*!)
3. Incredibly boring work
4. Chronic insomnia (I have slept maybe 5 hours in 3 days)
5. Shopping
6. Missing buses
7. Getting tearful while listening to "Jesamine" by the Casuals and "All The Young Dudes" by Mott The Hoople on my MP3 player at one thirty in the morning

I find that it is now 22:54 on Wednesday night, when I had promised myself that I would try to go to bed by 23:00.

I'm going now.

Mark, I have not forgotten about my entry for the Bad Movie Club. I have one great contender that I become more and more supremely angry about the more that I watch it.

"I'm not trying to pull you.
Even though I would like to.
I think you are really fit.
You're fit but my gosh, don't you know it!"

Stef wanted to know what I thought of The Streets. Hmm. I need to avoid sounding like a sad Fanboy. I must not use the words Awesome, Fantastic, Mega or Brilliant.

The Streets were very good. The gig probably wasn't as manic as the one at the NIA a year or so ago, but the band were tight (Leo the Lion is a God!), the tunes were good (even the ones from the much maligned new album) and the crowd were enthusiastic (there was a guy dressed as a pirate (?) dancing a few feet away from me). Nothing else required. (This is a really bad review. Sorry about that. Go and have a read of the mighty Swiss Toni's review from The Streets gig in Nottingham on 3rd May 2006 to see how it should be done.) More importantly I enjoyed myself without getting pissed or stoned out of my head. I also danced with a large breasted teenage girl all night. True, she didn't actually know that I was dancing with her, but I knew and that's what matters.

Great night. Really good night.

From the sublime to the ridiculous. To kill a bit of time before the gig I went to see "Three" starring Billy Zane and our very own Kelly Brook.



Oh my God! It's a catastrophe! Just terrible. Don't believe me? This is what the Independent had to say about it in Friday's entertainment supplement.

"An unholy amalgam of Lord of the Flies, The Blue Lagoon and The Admirable Crichton, in which Billy Zane and real-life fiancenKelly Brook star as a rich snob and his wife, shipwrecked on a desert island and forced to rely on a handsome Latin boatboy for survival. Soon, boatboy and Brook are exchanging smoldering glances, and we're all set for primal conflict. The big surprise is that Brook's performance is a long way from being the most embarrassing aspect of the film. At odd moments it rises to risibility, but mostly it is just dull. "

I couldn't have put it better myself, except I wouldn't say that it was a dull film. How can you fail to be entertained by the absolutely dreadful performances, the inept script and the terrible film making (check out the different film stock between shots and, in one scene, the magic scarf that disappears and reappears at will)? Still, they say that in every cloud there is a silver lining. Kelly Brooks in (and out) of her white bikini certainly impressed me.

Saturday morning Lorraine and I went to see "Eight Below".



I am always a bit suspicious of family films featuring heroic animals. Often they can be mawkish and sentimental and just too pass-the-sick-bag nice. This film was good. Of course it played with the emotions, but you really cared about the dogs and the Paul Walker character's desperation to get back to save them. Obviously Lorraine cried constantly through the second half, but I was macho and brave. I liked "Eight Below" a lot. There is a very tense and scary sequence with a monstrous leopard seal that is one of the most exciting and thrilling things I have seen in a cinema this year. Worth seeing the film just for that.

Lorraine sent me this today.

"An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house." The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?" "That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.""For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them. SO, to all of my crackpot friends, have a great day and remember to please smell the flowers on your side of the path!"

Life goes on. Things change and things stay the same. Maybe there isn't any sex, but I do love her.

(Bad writing tonight, I'll be better tomorrow.)

Not dead. Still here. Some people have been worried.

All things being considered, it has not been a bad weekend. I saw The Streets this evening and saw two films over the weekend, one of them with Lorraine.

Too late to go into now. Tomorrow. Er... Later tonight.

Minor story about a girl that I had/have some feelings for. Regulars will know who she is. I'm not going to mention her name again.

At a party the boyfriend of this girl told a work colleague of mine that, "I really like being with (fill in name here). Sometimes she lets me stick my dick up her arse."

My first thought was that the boyfriend was a crass scumbag shithead for sharing such a personal thing about a girl he is in a relationship with, and then I realised that I was being a hypocrite because this is the kind of thing that I have always done on this blog. And I felt bad about being a hypocrite. I feel really bad about being a hypocrite.

I then started thinking about relationships and sex things and the way that there is a stage of a relationship in which you will do things for somebody else because they like it and not necessarily because you like it, and the way that Lorraine and I have gone way past that stage now and all she ever says to me is "No, not tonight" or "No, that's disgusting" or "No, I'm too tired".

I have had several drinks. I don't think Lorraine gives a damn. We should talk, but she doesn't want to talk. Very fucked situation indeed.

I have had a quick scan around. Mark, I accept your challenge, but I need to consider carefully.

We have only heard this secondhand, but it appears that Bobby Blue is doing OK. He apparently has gained some mobility, has been holding Lana's hand, reading and doing crossword puzzles. It seems an awfully quick recovery, if I'm honest. Yesterday the impression I got was that his condition was very poor. Perhaps things can change this quickly? I am not an expert. Anyway, it's good news. One of Bobby's very old friends from work will be visiting him on Sunday, so we will know more next week.

We have been to vote. I'm sure that the Green Party will appreciate our efforts.

Did my UK brethren watch the start of the second series of "Lost" on Tuesday? I hope you did. Fantastic stuff. Along with "Rescue Me" it is probably my favourite show on the box. The producers have said that they are not making it up the plot of "Lost" as they go along. I hope so. I hope there is a plan. What do I think is going on? God knows, but I have theories...

*** You might want to skip the next bit if you have not seen the first two episodes of series 2 ***

Is the whole thing a virtual reality simulation? Perhaps all of the characters are just pawns in a computer game? Is everybody actually who they think they are? Perhaps everybody was taken off the plane, implanted with false memories (a la the fine movie "Dark City" ) and dumped onto the Island to see what happens as part of some diabolical experiment? This would explain the apparent spillover of events and coincidences from the real world onto the Island. You know the kind of thing, Hurley's cursed numbers appearing on the hatch, Desmond - a guy Jack met once when jogging - being in the underground bunker, Sawyer meeting Jack's father in a bar. Only some of the events they remember before going to the Island really happened! Sorted. We can all go home now.

*** Spoilers over ***

Of course, our American friends can tell me that I am totally wrong, but I hope they tell me nothing. No spoilers. Please.

On Sunday a friend of ours had a stroke. It has been a bit of a shock.

Bobby Blue is 35 years old. He is tall, slim, healthy (so we thought), drinks moderately and has been known to have the odd cigar. He is married to the lovely Lana. I have mentioned her before once or twice. It is she of the turquoise eyes. He has two kids under the age of ten from his previous marriage. From 2000 through 2004 he was Lorraine's boss at The Company. At the time Bobby worked for The Company I thought that he was a bit quiet and standoffish. I honesty cannot remember a single conversation I had with the man during that period. Lorraine loved him. She thought that he was a very good boss and mentor and kept in touch with him and Lana after they had both left The Company. I'm glad that she did. We were invited to their wedding in a couple of years ago and have spent good social time with them.

From what I gather from people at work, on Sunday Bobby was out training for some charity run thing when he collapsed in the park. He was taken to hospital complaining of pains in his head. Currently he is conscious, but his speech has deteriotated and he has no mobility (a nice way to say that he is paralysed). The Doctor's are waiting for the results of a cat scan. Obviously we have tried to contact Lana, but she has not got back to us yet. I'm sure that she has got other things on her mind.

Hell. I don't even know what causes a stroke. This is what Wikipedia says about it.

"A stroke, also known as cerebrovascular accident (CVA), is an acute neurologic injury whereby the blood supply to a part of the brain is interrupted, either by a clot in the artery or if the artery bursts. The result is that the part of the brain perfused by that artery no longer can receive oxygen carried by the blood and it dies (becomes necrotic) with cessation of function from that part of the brain. In addition to tissue death, hemorrhages also cause damage from physical impingement of blood on the brain tissue. Stroke is a medical emergency and can cause permanent neurologic damage or even death if not promptly diagnosed and treated. It is the third leading cause of death and adult disability in the US and industrialized European nations.
Risk factors include advanced age, hypertension (high blood pressure),diabetes mellitus, high cholesterol, and cigarette smoking. Cigarette smoking is the most important modifiable risk factor of stroke."

Can stress aggravate the cause of a stroke? I'm sure that I read somewhere that it can be an important factor. Can the application of stress cause damage that remains even after the stress is removed?

Something to consider. For the last 18 months of his time at The Company, Bobby was under incredible stress. I know that he quit at least twice and was convinced to stay by James Cunt with promises of increased resource, better procedures, better support from the board and less stress. For those 18 months I saw him turn in on himself, wilt, lose weight and go grey. Understand that he and Lana were always the first into the office and always the last to leave. They would often work from home into the evenings and weekends. Frankly, it was fucking ridiculous and Lorraine wants to emulate them now that she is doing most of Bobby's job. From my last conversation with him Bobby said that his new job is quite 'busy' and 'tiring', but the difference is that he is enjoying himself and he feels progression is being made, which was definitely not the case with The Company.

It has to be said. I will never let The Company rule my life. I will never give them all of me.

I will be 43 in August. Bobby is 8 years younger than me. That has made me think.

A card went around at work today. I wrote on it, "If you think that this let's you off paying for the next big, dirty Chinese, you have got another thing coming". I am thinking that maybe that was a little inappropriate. I hope he laughs when he can.

I am not a praying man, but Lorraine is a praying woman and she has said a little prayer for Bobby.

This morning Lorraine announced that she was not feeling well and would not be attending my Niece's birthday party with me. Whatever. There seems to be a lot of not-feeling-well going on at the moment and it normally coincides with doing something with my family.

So, firstly, I went to see "16 Blocks".



It's fairly formularic stuff, to be honest, but it has it's moments. Out of the action stars that appeared during the 80's and 90's Bruce Willis is probably my favourite and I think has the chance of the greatest longevity. Why? Because given the chance the guy can really act. He is good in this film as a alcoholic cop given a chance at redemption, as is David Morse as his nemesis. Mos Def is irritating beyond belief. I also hated the ending. Hollywood, cliche shit.

I ran into my Brother outside the cinema. He had been in the same screen, but I didn't spot him. He thought that "16 Blocks" was not very interesting at all as it "Has all been done before".

Brother and I made our way to my Niece's Birthday party. When we got there it was absolute chaos. The house had been overrun with sugar crazed 9 year olds and random adults in various states of inebriation. Apparently Sister 1 expected a handful of kids to turn up to the party, but had not countered on my Niece asking everybody in her class to attend and not one of the parents of those children to call to check that their children had actually been invited. I don't think that everybody in her class did attend, but it did seemed like it.

So, my Brother and I said hello to my Mom, who had taken refuge in the only comfortable chair in the house, retreated to the kitchen and grabbed what food we could. Ah... The running buffet. Budget all the way. Ham sandwiches, chicken sandwiches, beef sandwiches garlic bread, sausages on sticks, sausage rolls, pringles, crisps, coleslaw, chicken nuggets, onion rings, some unidentifiable items. We were disgusting. We ate a bit of everything. My Brother and I stayed a couple of hours and both left with indigestion and heartburn. We deserved it.

On the bus back into town my Brother pointed out a huge, disheveled, curly haired Fat Guy who had just got onto the bus and gone upstairs.

"That guy was carrying a gun", said my Brother.

"Bollocks", said I.

"No, really he was", said my Brother.

The smell of weed started to seep down the stairs. So far so typical. (Hey! I live in Birmingham.) Then we heard what can only be described as a 'kefuffle' from upstairs. Fat Guy came down the stairs in a hurry and sat in the seat in front of us. He was adjusting his gun. The gun looked plastic. I thought that it looked like a water pistol, but it turned out be be one of those toy guns that shoot potato bullets.

A minute after Fat Guy came down the stairs he was followed by Agitated Dude who went up to the driver and said, "That fat cunt just shot me in the back of the head".

"You were smoking weed", said Fat Guy.

"No, I wasn't" said Agitated Dude.

The bus driver stopped the bus and physically ejected Fat Guy from the bus. Fat Guy was upset. He swore and banged on the side of the bus.

Now, I know some people are not too keen on the smell of cigarette smoke (Lorraine is one of them), legal or otherwise, but I doubt if shooting somebody with a potato gun in the back of the head to show their displeasure was the best course of action to take. My Brother and I responded with maturity to this spectacle. We laughed like drains.

Home. Vegetating-in-front-of-the-TV night. We watched "Thunderbirds" (which I wanted Lorraine to watch so that she could fully grasp the full depths of the abomination that Jonathan Frakes spewed up), "Lemony Snicket's A Series Of Unfortunate Events" (which I really enjoyed, I thought it was great) and "Galaxy Quest" (which is one of our favourite films and should be essential viewing for every "Star Trek" fan).

Finally, I have sent an e-card to my Niece. It's an animated dog barking. Very classy.