Pynchon

I'm back!

New computer up and running. Internet access enabled. Lorraine looking sweaty and sexy after putting up with me for the last three hours.

Fucking hell! I'm knackered.

Back later.

All the Hookers were busy and the only Coke around was Coca Cola.

Damn.

So, I have been to see "Harsh Times".



"Harsh Times" is a buddy buddy movie. Weirdly I didn't expect that, although I have read at least one review saying as much. I had an initial problem in that at first I couldn't get my head around what seemed to be the very cliched, gangsta dialogue being sprouted by Christian Bale and Freddie Rodriguez. It was all "dude", "mutherfuckers", "biatches", etc. I kept thinking Beavis & Butthead or Jay & Silent Bob and that is not good if you are attempting a serious movie. What do I know? I come from Birmingham, which as recently been voted the place with the silliest accent in the UK.

Once I had gotten into the rhythm of the language, I thought that "Harsh Times" was quite good. After we see the two guys driving around, stealing, getting high, getting drunk, having fun (and some of it is very funny) we see a moment of shocking violence and realise that this life is not so funny after all. Cliches aside, "Harsh Times" is gritty and powerful and asks the question, what exactly do you do with a human weapon?

This will hopefully be the final post on my old PC. I am collecting the new PC tomorrow and will be attempting to configure the Internet connection myself prior to getting wireless setup on Friday. Smells like trouble, if you ask me, but Lorraine said that it will be a piece of piss. Yeah, right.

I'm just going to step out. I have something to do. I may be some time. Play nice while I'm away.

Lorraine is in tears downstairs. She has just finished reading (in two days) the latest Harry Potter tome, "Harry Potter and the Half Breed Prince". Lorraine is referring to J. K. Rowling as an "Evil old witch" and a "Cow!". Apparently somebody dies.

The movie will be due sometime around 2009. I think I might wait for that.

(Stretches and yawns.)

I am crazy tired (but not too tired for "Lost" at 10pm, ha ha ha!). Up too late, up too early.

Today we have purchased a new PC (300GB) and laptop (120GB). The PC has dopplers, googlers, whizzy bang technology and goblin magic. I am due to pick it up on Thursday. We bought the laptop home today, and after getting over her Potter grief, Lorraine is now configuring it. On Friday we have a man (or a lady - Hey! I'm all for sexual equality) arriving who is going to install a secure wireless network for us, for a small fee. Why don't I install it myself? Because I would shit myself with stress, that's why.

I will soon be on the cutting edge of technology. All bow before me!

This afternoon we took Moon The Cat back to the Vet for a checkup. The Vet is very pleased at Moon's progress and has asked us to bring Moon back to see him in about 3 months time. Moon celebrated by doing a huge shit when he got back to the house.

I am supposed to be on holiday. When exactly does the holiday bit of the holiday start?

Lorraine is going to Nottingham tomorrow to see her friend. I will be all alone.

Cocaine and Hookers it is then! Or failing that, I might go to see a film.

I forgot to mention that Lorraine liked the flowers. Six pink roses and greenery. They smell of nothing whatsoever. The house has been so hot that the blooms have opened wide. They are huge. I think they are very nice.

Lorraine was less impressed by the note. She said it was a horrible thing to write. I told her that some people liked it a lot and that I would be using the same line on my next girlfriend. She said, "... And roll on that happy day".

Charming.

The family meal went very well. We went to Buffet Island on Tyburn Road. Large portions (it is one of those Eat-As-Much-As-You-Can-Until-You-Are-Sick places and we did) and small prices (seventy-eight quid for nine people, including drinks). Can't be bad. We even behaved ourselves, although Lorraine and Sister 2 were at daggers with each other (it's a long story - maybe I will go into it sometime). I received two Birthday cards, a mug with World's Greatest Uncle on it and a seventy quid Debenham's voucher. (It's not my Birthday until Thursday, so obviously my voucher entitling me to a lap dance from Pamela Anderson will be arriving then.)

I have seen two films this weekend. On Sunday afternoon I saw "Severance" .



"Severance" was OK. The pacing is a bit wonky in that it lags in parts, but it was laudably short and it wasn't bad. There is only so much you can do with such a generic horror setup. (i.e. Get a group of mismatched people together, isolate them and kill them, one by one.) At least it was British, and it does have laughs, gore, big guns and gratuitous nudity (see picture above). I only went to see it because I do feel the need at times to support the British film industry. Go and see it and keep Danny Dyer in work!

Today I saw "Snakes On A Plane".



(Wouldn't it have been great if the above had been the official poster?)

You can skip the first half an hour of setup which is clunky, stilted and awful. Get yourself a drink or have a piss. You won't be missing much. Go back into the cinema just before the snakes get released because then "Snakes On A Plane" becomes fucking fantastic!

From the first "Big-Snake-Bites-Yow-On-The--Ass" moment "Snakes On A Plane" is an absolute hoot. Brilliant. A real crowd pleaser. It has been years since I have been in a cinema when the entire audience totally dug a movie. There was real (good) audience participation. Lots of laughter and groans of horror. "Snakes On A Plane" is about as substantial as tissue paper, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I have been ordered to bed. I might be buying a new computer and a laptop tomorrow. God help me.

On Saturday evening I went out with my Brother and his two mates. The expectation of an evening out with my Brother is often more exciting than the reality.

My Brother and Elvis (his mate, who looks exactly like Vin Diesel) drank 12 cans of Carlsberg between them before we had left my Mom's house. I had one can of Carlsberg and that was diluted by some lemonade.

On the way up Broad Street my Brother spied a girl he fucked a couple of times. (Let's call her Sharon.) I mentioned Sharon once before; some of you might remember. Sharon was the one who became a bit obsessed with my Brother. Sharon once turned up at my Mom's house to see my Brother, was let in, went up to his bedroom and refused to leave. My Brother eventually threw her out. On and off since then Sharon has sent my Brother texts and pornographic pictures of herself. She was the kind of lady to leave well alone, I would have thought, but apparently not.

My Brother texted Sharon, there and then, saying that he would meet her in O'Neill's. I got the feeling that he had been keeping in touch with her. I asked my Brother why he texted her. He said that it would "Be a laugh". Actually, no it wouldn't. The one thing about my Brother that I really do not like is that he plays games with women. It's the way he is. Maybe it is a reaction to being brought up mainly by women. He was 8 when our Dad died and he claims not to remember him very much.

In O'Neill's we met up with Donovan; another one of my Brother's friends. Donovan does not speak and is constantly texting and playing games on his phone. Other than the fact that he drinks nothing but Blue WKD'S, he is not very interesting and I will not mention him again.

In O'Neill's I had a lot to drink. In the toilets I saw somebody pissing in the sink. Par for the course, you might say, but not when the toilets are empty. Sharon was also in O'Neill's. My Brother introduced me to her. She seemed OK, but her eyes were all over the place. She had a very intense conversation with my Brother (that I did not hear), called him a Motherfucker (which I did hear) and stomped off to the bar.

We left and went to Reflex.

In Reflex I had a lot to drink. I drank some kind of blue shot drink that tasted like petrol. I was horrified to realise that I knew the lyrics to a lot more shit 80's tunes that I thought I did, but saying that "Wham Rap" was a really great song and so was "I'm Your Man". (Two out of my three sisters were massive Wham fans and played those songs constantly. I suppose that stuff can stick in your head, can't it?)

We stood in a corridor leading to the toilets, away from the music, and watched ladies go by. Two gay ladies blew kisses at us. A caveman went by to have a piss and left his lady in the corridor. My Brother and Elvis were very taken by her. She had on a silver top, was wearing a micro skirt and had fairly nice legs. I didn't see what the fuss was about. Yes, she was nice, but she was skinny. Too thin. Heroin chic. It does nothing for me, although I will admit that Kate Moss is quite nice looking, sometimes.

Back into Reflex. Sharon was at the bar. She spotted us and waved.

We left and went to Flares.

In Flares I had a lot to drink. We had a pitcher of some cocktail called Woo Woo. We finished it off in minutes. I sang along to "I'm A Believer" by the Monkees, which is one of the greatest pop singles of all time. A red Budweiser cowboy hat fell from heaven, so I put it on. Sharon turned up and made a beeline to us. My Brother has a picture in his phone of her leaning over me, tits in my face, mouth near my ear. Sharon said I was better looking than my Brother and asked if I wanted to go back to her place later and fuck her.

Er... No.

My Brother and I left Flares. We went to a chip shop for food.. I got talking to a girl in the queue, who looked about 12 years old, and was wearing a beret. I told her how much I liked her hat. She seemed pleased by that and told me that my shirt was cool. (My shirt is cool. Kind of pyschedelic blue. Lorraine bought it for me.)

I got a taxi home.

Lorraine was in bed, but was still awake. Apparently I started an argument, but I don't remember anything about that. I do remember stripping naked, going downstairs, lying on the settee and watching the end of "Audition" on Film Four, while drinking water and eating bananas. Sometime after 3am I fell asleep. It was light when I woke up (7am?) and actually made it to bed.

I have been a bit fragile today, but no hangover. Thank God for water and bananas. This afternoon I was well enough to go out to see "Severance", but I won't write about that now because at this moment I just want to go to bed and that is what I am going to do.

Family meal tomorrow. Pray for me and my bank account.

Snakes In A Theatre turns out to be hoax!

So basically, somebody was taking the hiss.

(A sad eyed preacher on a hill rings a funeral bell. A cold wind blows through the abandoned frontier town.)

Moving on...

I love a good survey. Nicked from Graham and Mark.

Talk us through what you're wearing?
England top, khaki shorts, blue plimsols full of holes.

What are you listening to at the moment?
"Non Stop Erotic Cabaret" by Soft Cell.

Describe your worst haircut?
When I was about 15 I took some scissors to the front of my hair. So, very short at the front, long at the back and sides. I looked like an absolute tit for a couple of weeks.

MySpace - life changing or timewasting?
Only one answer? OK. Timewasting. Or is it life changing? I don't know. I have only been on it a couple of times.

Favourite film and why?
I normally put "The Day The Earth Caught Fire", but how about something recent for a change? "Requiem For A Dream". Extreme, scary, hallucinogenic, brilliantly acted (especially by Ellen Burstyn, who was robbed by Julia Roberts for the Best Actress Oscar that year), brilliantly written, brilliantly filmed. Already a classic. (Anybody else looking forward to "The Fountain" later this year?)

Will Daniel Craig make a good Bond?
Sure he will. He is a really good actor. I would have to admit that he is not the actor I would have chosen (I would have gone for somebody like Gerard Butler), but eventually it is all going to be down to the kind of movie they have made. Roger Moore couldn't have been in a hard boiled thriller, but on the other hand Daniel Craig couldn't have been in "Moonraker". I have a feeling that "Casino Royale" will be loved by the critics, but will not be as big a hit as the producers hope it will be.

What's your hangover cure?
A pint of water, bananas and a large bowl of cornflakes, before going to bed. It works. No hangover. Try it.

Would you ever consider dating a footballer?
Sure I would. Have you seen some of those lady footballers? Strong leg muscles. Think about it.

What's on your rider?
Food and drink. No cheese. Cheese is devil vomit.

Is there a song lyric you had wish you had written?
"I drive a rolls Royce cause' it good for my voice." Ah, the great Marc Bolan. That is actually a terrible lyric, but I can't think of anything serious at the moment.

How far do you think you'd get on Pop Idol?
Probably wouldn't even get in the room. A guy at work tried out last year. He said something about there being a pre audition, audition. If you are very good or very bad you get to perform in front of the judges, otherwise it's don't call us we'll call you.

Who, in all pop history, is the most over-rated?
Very difficult. If I don't like something I tend to dismiss it and not give it another thought. Overrated? I never liked 80's hair metal very much. Bon Jovi were big enough to sell out Wembley Stadium in this country. How the hell did that happen? What kind of Devil's work was this?

Who's the sexiest man/woman in pop?
Man: Mick Jagger, circa 1967/68.
Woman: I actually think Britney Spears is astoundingly sexy. Sue me.

Name a genuinely sad song?
"I Know It's Over" by The Smiths.

What do you hate being asked?
"Can you stay over and finish this job?" My normal answer to that is "Will I get paid?"

What's your favourite Keane song?
"Bedshaped", but I'm not a big fan.

Is hanging too good for Pete Doherty?
No. He doesn't irritate me. He is just tabloid fodder. Lump him in with the latest Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan/Victoria Beckham gossip. Read the story, smile (or scowl) and onto the next story. Such a shame because I rather liked the second Libertines album. Sadly any relevance Pete Doherty had to music at one time has now long gone. Perhaps his next record will be a defining moment in British rock music, but I doubt it. Imagine if he had been brilliant at Live 8? Everything would have changed.

Have you ever lied during the course of this interview?
No.

What makes you happy?
Being knocked out by a really good movie, book, TV programme, whatever.

What would be on your Coat Of Arms?
A single finger. Raised.

What was the last item you bought off the internet?
Some flowers for Lorraine. They should be arriving on Saturday morning.

What's your favourite smell?
The smell of female. (Make of that what you will.)

What was the first song you ever wrote?
Never written a song. Perhaps I will. These things take time, but when my solo album is released it will change the world.

Under pain of death would you eat human flesh?
I doubt it. Then again, I do eat in The Company canteen, so I cannot imagine that it would be much worse than that.

What will you be wearing this autumn?
Hopefully a new coat. Also some very stylish Ben Sherman tops.

What are you reading at the moment?
Absolutely nothing. I should be reading the James Ellroy book on my sidebar, but I have not picked that up in months.

What do you make of the Arctic Monkeys?
They are OK, but I'll give them 3 years before they split.

Is this a good time for John Pynchon?
Let's put it this way. Sometimes my feet hurt. Sometimes my right wrist also hurts. I am overweight. I do not sleep very well. Lorraine has no interest in having sexual relations with me. My job is dogshit, but I can't do anything else. I am lazy. My confidence is at it's lowest ebb. But... There are a lot of people worse off than me and I know it. I am fine. Not a good time for me, but I am fine.

I meant to be here a lot earlier, but I got stuck into watching the remake of "Assault On Precinct 13" for the upteenth time and before I knew it, it had gone 10pm.

This will be short. I am suffering from sleep deprivation.

There was no post last night because Lorraine needed to dial onto work and was on modem for hours. Fine by me. I had nothing to say anyway. Instead I spent a happy couple of hours, before "Lost" started, organising all of the CD's in the house alphabetically. Once I had tossed all of the CD's that we had obtained free in various magazines (250+ of those fuckers!) into a box, I found that there was actually space on the IKEA shelves to fit everything that was left. I was also surprised to find CD's that I never knew we had. Such as...

The Best Of Echo And The Bunnymen. (Must be mine, but I have never played it. Great stuff.)
The Best Of Prince. (Ditto.)
Barry Manilow: The Ultimate Collection. (Not mine! Hmm... But I quite like "Mandy". That's a good song.)
Barbara Streisand: The Essential Collection. ("Evergreen". That's good. So is "Woman In Love".)
The Best Of Mark Knopfler and Dire Straits. (I used to really hate Dire Straits, but I have become senile in my old age. "Private Investigations". I like that one. And "Romeo And Juliet".)
The Best Of Frankie Laine. (Er...)
The Best Of Perry Como. (Eh?)

and finally...

wait for it...

The Best of Stars On 45. (Remember Stars On 45? Snippets of great tunes mixed into a medley. Sometimes, to their eternal shame, they used the original tracks and artistes, but a lot of the time they used soundalikes. They had 3 number 1's in this country. Just awful. Shit.)

It's not mine. I registered my protest with Lorraine. She said she was young and that she didn't know what she was doing. She said that she was led into obtaining a criminal record by a bad crowd.

I forgave her.

"Lost" was a bit middling. Rose and Bernard's story. It was nice, and it confirmed something about the Island, but that was about it. It didn't go anywhere. According to those in the know, the next episode is the killer.

Lorraine and I are off work next week. It's my birthday week, but I want to make it a special week for both of us. There will be trips, a visit to the West End, meals out (with my family and alone) and some cock if she wants it (bit dicey on the last bit, but I live in hope). I will be starting off by getting some flowers delivered to her on Saturday morning. I thought that these might be suitable words to put into the attached card.

"Lorraine,

If I didn't love you, I would have had you shot years ago.

Your Boyfriend,
John."

Nice? Yes?

You would be correct in your assumption that nothing of any real interest happened today. The only thing I can think of to report is that I spent part of my time today training an idiot woman from the Barbados office in how to use the Help Desk system. Why me? Fuck knows. I had work to do. Obviously that did not matter.

The Barbados woman is somebody that I hate and loathe with a passion. This is a woman - No! A vile and rancid creature - that I despise and have no time for, because she is bone idle and useless and once sent an ignorant email criticising Lorraine for something that was not Lorraine's fault. Lorraine roasted Barbados woman with her reply. There is a rumour that Barbados woman only keeps her job because at one time she let the M.D. fuck her up the arse. I believe it.

Barbados woman sat my desk. I showed her some things, then I made her do the same things for herself. Useless. Crap. Vile. Yes, a Cunt. I am not the only one who thinks this way. Barbados woman has the ability to wind up the most genial person. We had a guy who used to work at The Company who eventually gave it all up to train for the priesthood. A lovely guy. Gentle, quiet, understanding. Nothing got to him, but he hated Barbados woman. She is not well liked.

I looked something up today. On January 11th 2007 I will be exactly the same age my Dad was when he died. 43 years and 133 days. Why did I do that? It is kind of sick. Why do I feel as though I am in some kind of a countdown?

Ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen. Just another day.

Waddawewant! Movies.

Whendowewanem? Now.

Well... If you insist.

Last week I went to see "Lady In The Water".



There seems to be a consensus of opinion between film critics that M. Night Shyamalan peaked with "The Sixth Sense" and that his work has been in a slow decline since. I don't agree with that. I thought that "Unbreakable" was a work of genius, with a killer plot twist equal to that of "The Sixth Sense". I thought that "Signs" had some plotting problems, but that it was brilliantly atmospheric, beautifully put together, and had some wonderful performances at the core of it. I thought that "The Village" at it's heart was just a blown up Twilight Zone story (not that there is anything wrong with that, right?), and as with "Signs", was beautifully put together and sincerely acted by everybody, especially Bryce Dallas Howard. So, "Lady In The Water"...

I loved it. I thought it was just wonderful. A beautiful fantasy, which does requires a bit of suspension of disbelief to get the most out of it. Perhaps the Paul Giamatti character did accept what was going on a tad quickly, but that is just picking hairs, and the main thrust of the plot had to be kickstarted. Also, "Lady In The Water" is a bit scary for it's certificate. PG? Bollocks, it should have been a 15.

Sadly, some people will not get it. (The Disney studio, for one.) If you are a cynic or a realist, go and see something else. You won't like "Lady In The Water". Some critics over here have absolutely loathed it. It is a film that knows it is a film and takes great delight in letting the audience know that it knows. (Er... Yes. I think that's right.) It does the thing that they probably teach young Director's on day 1 of the "How To Direct A Motion Picture" course not to do, and that is to break the fourth wall (but there are a lot of films that do). Also, some critics have taken exception to M. Night Shyamalan casting himself as a writer whose work will eventually change the world. They have said that this demonstrates an ego out of control and a man in love with his own words and himself. They are wrong. I think that this demonstrates a man with a sense of humour. Have they ever seen any of the early home movies he includes on the DVD extras for his films? Terrible. The lot of them. No, this is a man with a sense of humour.

I would recommend "Lady In The Water". For good or bad it is a film with a singular vision and we need more of those films, not less.

Yesterday I saw "The Notorious Bettie Page".



Now, this was interesting film because it was not the romp through pre permissive America that I expected from the trailer, as it takes in a fair chunk of Bettie Page's unhappy early life of (hinted) child abuse, (obvious) spousal abuse and (blatantly obvious) sexual abuse. The fun part of the film is all in it's middle section when Bettie starts her modeling career in earnest, and the daft and funny recreations of photo sessions and the making of light bondage movies. Gretchen Moll plays Bettie as a sweet and naive church fearing Southern girl, completely unaware of the effect that her photos and films were having on men of a certain disposition. I don't know if I believe that. Surely she wasn't as innocent as the film makes out? How could she be?

Except for the Miami interludes, and the end credits, the film is completely in black and white. It looks gorgeous. Some people are already talking up Gretchen Moll's performance as possibly Oscar worthy, but I wouldn't know anything about that, but I will say that she throws herself into the part and looks astonishingly like the real lady.

"The Notorious Bettie Page" is an 18 certificate over here. I have no idea why. Yes, there is nudity and fetishwear and a bit of simulated bondage, but so what? It all seemed so innocent and inoffensive. There was an erect cock in "Kinsey" and that was only a 15.

Today I saw "A Scanner Darkly".



I'll pass on any detailed comment about this film, because I don't think I can do it justice. There was a very bad vibe in the cinema. Lots and lots of Cinema Arseholes. My heart sank when a gaggle of teenage Asian kids sat on my row. One girl said, "Wass this about then?" and her friend said, "Dunno, but it's Kee Anne Oooo, init?" Fuck me. At that moment if I could have shot myself, or them, I would have done.

Various people were told to be quiet. Various people didn't keep quiet. Various people were told to be quiet again. On and on it went. I nearly left the cinema. I didn't. I should have done. Why, O why do these people bother to go to the cinema?

Bad experience. Fuck it. I imagine that "A Scanner Darkly" will be on Film Four in 6 months time, anyway.

(If it helps at all, "A Scanner Darkly" looks amazing and the script seems to be packed with interesting philosophical ideas and musings. It looks like a great stoner movie - is there such a creature these days? - and I probably would have really liked it.)

I had a half day at work today so that I could take Moon The Cat to the Vets. Moon's glucose level is a little high (probably because I gave him a little bit of tuna before we left the house), and he is a bit wobbly at times, but his appetite is good and the Vet thinks that Moon is doing OK. We have been asked to take Moon back to the Vets for another checkup at the end of August and in the meantime to keep his insulin level at a slightly reduced level.

While at the Vets I did brace them on exactly what they think happened to Moon on Saturday and Sunday, as Moon's collapse was pretty well total. They more or less confirmed what Lorraine told me on Monday were the reasons Moon was ill last weekend. I feel a heel. Perhaps I should believe the lady next time?

Nah.

Other than that, nothing much else to report. The Company is holding a party this evening, but we decided not to attend. Lorraine did not give a reason why she was not going to attend. She just told them that she didn't fancy it. Ever the smart alec I told them that I would be busy plucking the hairs out of the crack of my arse. An infinitely preferable activity.

I could have gone to the party. I could have drank their alcohol and ate their food. I could have got very drunk and fat, acted the fool, stuck a carrot up my arse and sang Rolling Stone's songs on their karoke, but I didn't. I couldn't be bothered. The Company has so very little to be pleased with itself about and it just feels to me that going to the party was unpleasantly close to saying that everything is OK. And it most definitely is not.

More fool me, eh?

Tomorrow I will be at work in the morning, and in the afternoon I am going to see "The Notorious Bettie Page" (Hurrah! About bloody time they put it on in Brum.) Then... Be afraid. Be very afraid. Tomorrow night "The X-Factor" returns.

I love "The X-Factor". Sue me.

(I have not forgotten to write up "Lady In The Water". This will be done sometime over the weekend.)

Have a nice weekend, people. Rock 'n' roll, baby!

I was on the bus. I was reading the Independent, I turned the page and I nearly had a heart attack.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to have gone forever.

So, the question now is, do I become somebody else? I might. Then again, I might just stay right here.

Anybody asks, you never saw me. Right?

I am copying music onto my MP3 player (the Small Faces' "Ultimate Collection", the Ramones' "Ramonesmania" and Razorlight's "Up All Night") and am also making a couple of mix CD's for a lady because... Er... She asked me.

Sadly I cannot do the above and blog as well, because my PC is a piece of shit. Luckily one of my insurance policies comes up at the end of September and the final wodge is a couple of grand more than I thought it would be.

New PC for me! I might even go wireless.

I will be 43 years old, two weeks tomorrow. Just thought I would mention it...

I'm back. Nobody is saying it, so I think I will.

"So, John. Basically, over the weekend you acted like an old woman (and apologies to any sensible old woman who might be reading). You panicked. You worked yourself and your lady love into a tizzy over nothing. The cat wasn't dying, he was just unwell for a couple of days. If anybody had listened to you, and heeded your advice, you would now have a dead cat on your hands and it would have been your fault. You really are just a weak, lillywhite, motherfucker."

Hmm... Yes. That just about covers it.

Moon The Cat was alone in the house all day today. He met us at the door when we arrived home. Fitter than I have seen him for ages. I think he is taking the piss.

I feel a prat, but I am glad to know such concerned people. I mean it.

Anyway, a joke.

There are two men in a bar. The first man turns to the second man and says, "I fucked your Mother".

The second man looks at the first man and then turns away.

The first man says, "I fucked your Mother. She loved it."

The second man looks at the first man, shakes his head sadly and again turns away.

The first man says, "I fucked your Mother. She really loved it. She really wanted it. I took her from the front and then I took her from behind and then..."

The second man turns angrily to the first man and says, "Dad! Go home. You're drunk."

Don't blame me! Lorraine told me that joke. And there I was thinking that she was a prude.

Sometime I need to write up "Lady In The Water", but not now. Now it's time for "Lost".

Quick post before I go off to work. I was not able to get on here last night because Lorraine was using the modem and I didn't want to disturb her.

Moon The Cat is still here. He's OK, or rather, he is back to normal.

Lorraine took Moon to the Vet yesterday morning. She explained the situation. The Vet took Moon in for observation and Lorraine went home to wait. She can work from home if necessary, so it made no difference to The Company. Late afternoon I got a phone call from Lorraine asking if I would meet her at the Vet's after six. I went expecting the worst (or is that the best?) By the time I arrived it was all over and Lorraine was waiting outside with Moon and she looked happy.

"He's OK!", she said.

Now... I'm not sure how to describe my reaction at the time. I think that beside-myself-with-frustration-and-anger might just about cover it. I ranted and I raved. Was she in the house at the weekend? Did she see what went on? Has she got any fucking idea how ill that cat was? Is Stevie Wonder working as a Vet now, and did he examine Moon?

Lorraine ignored me.

"He's OK", she said.

And Moon does seem OK. He is wobbly, but mobile. Sadly no change there, but he is eating, he is vocalising and he had a stinky shit in his box for a change, which was nice. (The fact that he had a shit in his box was nice, not the stinky shit.) He tried to catch a housefly, failed and then scowled. Normal.

Lorraine said that once she had been adamant to the Vet that we had not given Moon an overdose of insulin, and that Moon was eating the right kind of food, the Vet explained that during the past couple of weeks a number of their diabetic animals have been having problems with the heat. They are not eating enough, their blood sugar drops and they can experience the symptoms that Moon had over the weekend. Hmm... OK, except it hasn't been particularly warm in Birmingham over the past couple of days and that Moon's collapse was total. Perhaps it is a cumulative thing?

Lorraine said that she asked a crucial question. How long before we have to make a decision on putting him to sleep? The Vet said that any decision like that was "way off". Good, yes? Yes, it is. I love that rotten cat and I want him with us as long as possible.

On Friday Moon needs to go back to the Vet. I will be taking him this time and I will be asking some blunt questions. If I am not happy I will not be taking the decision on having him put to sleep there and then because, as has been said, Lorraine needs to be part of that decision and, anyway, I only adopted Moon. He is Lorraine's baby.

Thank you, everybody, who commented. It is appreciated.

It has been a fraught weekend. Moon The Cat is dying. I am sure of it.

Yesterday, after I had got back from the cinema, I found Moon The Cat holed up in a part of the house that he never ventures to. Not right. I tried to entice him out with some tuna, but he wasn't having it. He was breathing, but he seemed catatonic. I lifted him out, took him into the kitchen and stuck his face into his water bowl and then his food bowl. He took a little bit of both.

Then he had a fit. For a good five minutes his eyes were wide open and he was shaking. Then he stopped. He tried to get up, but was wobbly and kept falling over. I lifted him back to his water and his food bowl. Again he ate something. I wrapped him in his blanket and took him into the living room and sat with him. Moon The Cat was very vocal. He talked to me.

Lorraine arrived home. I told her what happened. We had the standard

Pynchon: "We can't go on like this. He's suffering!"
Lorraine: "The vet said to expect episodes. He's OK. You are just a selfish bastard. You want him dead."

argument and then she took him off me and cuddled him like a baby.

A hour later he had another fit. It lasted about a minute. I had to bite my hand to prevent myself from saying, "I told you so. Now, do you believe me?"

Lorraine, obviously, was freaked out. For all the talk of "episodes" we had never actually seen Moon The Cat have a fit before. We have seen the drunken movement and the difficulty in walking and the fact that one out of three times he misses his litter tray, but he has never had a fit in front of us before.

We took a taxi to an emergency vet. Moon The Cat was examined. Blood was taken. The emergency vet said that Moon The Cat has severely low blood sugar and wanted to know if we were giving him the right food and the right dosage of insulin when we inject him. Of course we fucking are!

Moon The Cat was kept in overnight on a glucose drip. We picked him up this morning. Moon The Cat had another fit during the night, but this morning seemed more together. We took him home. The vet said to take Moon The Cat to his normal vet on Monday as, although he had ascertained that the problem was low blood sugar, he didn't know why it was happening. He also didn't know why the fits were happening.

Moon The Cat has been having fits on and off all day for very short periods of time. He is not moving very well. Lorraine is taking food to him. She will not leave him alone. She told me to go out as she did not need me under her feet. I declined.

Now, I am prepared to be the bad guy here. I love that cat, but it is time to end this nonsense. Moon The Cat is not going to get any better. He is 16 years old. He has no quality of life. He is suffering. We are suffering (or is it just me, the selfish bastard?) It has seemed to me that recently that everything that goes on in the house is being dictated by Moon The Cat's health, and let's ignore for the moment the distasteful question of how much money it is costing us (although you might like to know that the bill for Saturday night's jaunt to the emergency vet cost near on three hundred quid, and I fully expect at least another hundred quid to be spent tomorrow when Lorraine goes to our normal vet.)

Can't Lorraine see that this is now pointless and that we need to stop this? Am I really such a shit? Am I really being so insensitive? I have not come out and said bluntly, "Moon has got to go", but Lorraine knows that I think. I would like honest opinions if anybody wants to give them, because I don't know how to tackle this. I don't want it to go on for the next couple of months, or god forbid, into next year. We are damaged already and are getting more damaged.

I swear to whatever God you believe in that I just want things to be right. I love Lorraine.

I had a dream last night about my foxy neighbour Keren.

"Did you, John?"

No, she wouldn't let me.

Ha ha ha ha ha! The old ones are the best.

Actually, last night I really did have a dream about Keren. I was standing with her in her hallway. We were looking at her front door. It was raining, the door was shut, but water was cascading down the door like a waterfall and was spreading across her hallway.

I said to her, "That's kind of beautiful" and she said, "It's not supposed to be doing that, you idiot!" and then I woke up in a cold sweat.

Analysis? I don't know. On and off I have dreams about water leaks. It dates back to August 2002 when we came back from holiday to find that the cold water tank had sprung a leak and that water had been dripping through the kitchen ceiling. We were lucky. The leak must have only been going a couple of hours by the time we got home. My Brother had been looking after the house and he was adamant that nothing had been wrong while he was there. We claimed for the leak on the insurance, got it fixed and got a redecorated kitchen thrown in. Nice.

I still look at that kitchen ceiling every time I enter that room. It's habit. That memory will be with me for the rest of my life.

Shudder.

There was a story in the Independent about Macca and Heather Mills. Maybe Heather Mills is a gold digger? Maybe she isn't? Maybe Heather Mills really loved Macca? Maybe she didn't? Maybe Heather Mills is a predatory female, who lucked out by snaring the richest pop star in the world? Maybe she isn't? Maybe she was a hooker? Maybe she wasn't?

Just because she appeared in pornography (were those pictures of her?) doesn't necessarily make her a bad person, it just makes her a person willing to appear in pornography. There are worse things.

A bit of dialogue from this evening.

Lorraine: "They (Macca and Heather) were never going to stay together."

Moi: "Why?"

Lorraine: "Because he didn't love her."

Moi: "And how have you worked that out?"

Lorraine: "Because, stupid, he has never written a classic song about her!"

Hmm.... Macca wrote "And I Love Her" and "Here, There and Everywhere" about Jane Asher, and "My Love" about Linda. I think those are all classic songs. Lorraine made a good point, except that Paul McCartney doesn't really write any classic songs anymore.

Jane Asher left Macca in 1968, allegedly because she surprised him entertaining a lady when she arrived home early one day. If that hadn't have happened, maybe they would have been together forever?

And so endeth today's lesson in writing just for the sake of it.

Nothing happened today except for the terrorism thing. If they havew stopped something bad from happening by clamping down on airport security, then good for them, but I remember the bit in Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 9-11" in which somebody talked about using the raising and lowering of the US terrorism threat index as a method of unsettling the public. I pointed out to somebody today that martial law could be declared in the UK at any time and all they would need to do would be to claim that they were responding to a major terrorist threat, and that they would be allowed to get away with it.

Now that is worrying.

I had a choice last night. Blog or chores? No time for both. Chores won.

Actually, I felt quite good about making that choice. Sometimes you just have to get the mundane things done, and I felt better for it.

First I did ironing. (Lorraine has said that she doesn't mind ironing the odd shirt for me. Bollocks to that! When I broke my arm Lorraine did all of my ironing. It was a lamentable effort. Just terrible. None of the women I know can iron clothes properly. My Mom was also terrible at ironing,. She was so bad that my Dad also did his own ironing. Of course, I am being an ungrateful shit. You may reprimand me if you wish, but if you are an attractive lady, would you mind wearing a leather outfit while doing so?)

Secondly I did filing. (Most of the time I am very organised. I have folders full of receipts, statements and bills, organised by company name and date. If I need to I can lay my hands on any piece of paper generated by a purchase made by, or a service provided for, Lorraine or myself for the past 5 years. I am proud of this. OCD can have it's benefits, you know. I never lose anything and I also am obsessed with the need to know where everything is. I'm great, ain't I? And just so modest I could just shit.) I had a lot to file. All of the paper was in one pile that Lorraine has been banned from even looking at. Most of it got done.

Thirdly I did the washing up, even though I had cooked. Lorraine was watching "Innerspace" for the 9000th time. Waving the washing up liquid bottle at her was failing to get the message across. I couldn't leave the washing up. It was bugging me. I got it done.

Then it was time for "Lost" . (MINOR SPOILERS....Maps? Blast doors? Food drops? Oooh... Henry Gale? You are an interesting character, aren't you?)

I make no apologies. I love "Lost". By my calculations we have 6 E4 episodes to go. I read that the new series starts in the States in October. (Note. In the UK they show an episode every Tuesday night on Channel 4 at 10pm, with the following episode at 11pm on E4. The following episode is then broadcast on the following Tuesday night. I have been watching the double bill every Tuesday night until midnight. I think that it is worth it, but God, I was so tired today.)

So, was there anything to blog about last night? Not really.

Two nice ladies, who shall remain anonymous for the moment, but you probably know both of them, sent me emails recently. I have been pondering a suggestion from lady number one, which is a really good suggestion because she is a clever and perceptive lady, and is perfectly achievable in a couple of months time. Lady number two has made me an offer which I cannot refuse, and now I need to respond to her response to my response. Er... Yes!

On Saturday I went to see "Atomised".



I wasn't supposed to see "Atomised" this Saturday. What I was supposed to see was "The Notorious Bettie Page", but for reasons best known to themselves, the distributors pulled the film from all cinemas outside London and Scotland. Birmingham not sophisticated enough, I suppose?

Bastards!

Anyway... "Atomised".

"Atomised" has had stinking reviews in this country. They say that it is dour, miserable, painfully and obviously controversial, explicit for it's own sake and wallowing in it's own filth and nastiness. Sounds like just the kind of film that I would like to see, yes?

Actually, I wouldn't disagree with any of the above, but what I would say is that the reviewers' seem to have missed the mile wide streak of black comedy that runs all of the way through "Atomised". Yes it is shocking and unnecessary, but sometimes it is very funny indeed. I laughed a lot (but nobody else in the cinema did - oops!) It even has a happy ending of sorts.

Anybody remember a film called "Bad Boy Bubby"? I think it is a classic. I you liked that film I would definitely recommend "Atomised" to you. Definitely different from the run of mediocre summer blockbusters we have been subjected to this year.

On Sunday Lorraine and I went to see "Cars".



I enjoyed "Cars", but it was exactly what I expected. There were no surprises whatsoever. Actually, that sounds a bit critical. I did enjoy "Cars" and Lorraine absolutely loved it. She wants to buy "Cars" on DVD when it comes out later this year.

"Cars" looks amazing, the voice cast is perfectly... Er... cast, the script is funny and self knowing and there is a bit of social commentary for the adults in the audience, all about the effect that the construction of the freeways had on the livelihood's of thousands of small towns across the U.S.A. (Funnily enough, when we got back to the house "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" was on Sky Movies, and that has a whole subplot about the nefarious scheme of the villain to build a freeway straight through Toontown. I seem to remember that "L. A. Confidential" also mentions the construction of the freeways as a bad turning point in the development of Los Angeles. Do American's think of the freeways as a scar on the American psyche? I'd be interested in anybody's comment on that.)

"Cars" is quite a long film for kids (nearly two hours), but I was not bored, and the gang of small children in the row ahead of us were all entranced. You can't ask for much more from a kids film.

My family are awful.

No, we are. We are loud and crass and badly dressed. We eat and drink too much. Sometimes we fight each other. Occasionally we fight other people. If we were at a table in a restaurant, you might be tempted to be asked to move. The having-it-large vibe can bug some people. I blame my Mom and Dad. My Mom brought us up practically alone (she was widowed at the age of 43, had four kids under the age of 10 and one on the way) and it was a struggle. I suppose that some basic standards of behaviour can get lost in the mix. My Dad thought that the most important thing in life was to have fun, and he did, until the day he died. There was no place for misery in his life.

I suppose we are white trash. Guess what? We don't give a shit. We don't go out of our way to hurt anybody; any of us.

Anyway... (I don't quite know where that came from. Nobody has said anything to us.)

Friday night was a good night. We went to a Harvester (I know, I know, but it was my Mom's choice, and she likes the craphole), we all drank too much (except for my Niece and Nephew, of course), ate too much (even though the food was dreadful) and told family stories.

(Worth a sidebar for some stories.

My Dad once purchased a car from a guy he met in the pub, failing to notice that the car had no floor. Or brakes. It cost him a tenner. Bargain, except that my Mom refused to get into the car.

The one and only time my Dad bought my Mom flowers was when I was born. Three days after I was born. My Dad had gone on a bender with my Grandad (my Mom's Dad) and they disappeared for 3 days. Apparently at the end of it my Grandad was spied carrying my unconscious Dad on his back down Broad Street. My Grandad was a giant. Fuck knows where those genes went to. My Mom is only 4 foot 10 inches. I am a magnificent 5 foot 5 inches. I am taller than Napoleon.

My Dad once threw a TV set through a pub window. I have no information as to why. Maybe he didn't like the TV show that was being broadcast. He was arrested, but they let him go the next day. I think he knew the policeman who arrested him.

On a family holiday to one of the seaside resorts, my Dad decided to wear a sailor's cap. Somebody came up to him and asked him how long he had been in port. The only sea my Dad had ever been on was the Irish Sea, which he traversed in 1951 traveling to the UK when he was 16. For the rest of that holiday my Dad pretended to be a merchant seaman. He was very convincing, as well.

My Dad could not read or write. My Mom taught him how to write his own name. It was all he needed.

When I was very young, my Mom left my Dad for 9 months. He had decided to live in Quinton. My Mom decided that my Dad could live wherever the hell he liked, but she was staying where she was. My Mom and me moved in with my Gran. 9 months later my Dad came back. He had learnt a lesson about not fucking with the iron will of his wife.

The only Beatles song my Dad liked was "Yellow Submarine". He did not like any pop music. I once played him in the Sex Pistols "Never Mind The Bollocks" album. He was appalled and looked at me like I was a alien.

My Dad loved movies. We went to the cinema all of the time. You can blame him for the amount of words taken up on the subject of movies in this blog.

Lots more stories. Another time. End of sidebar.)

Really good night. I think that Lorraine enjoyed it as well. She thinks my family are funny. I think my family are funny.

I went to see two films this weekend - "Atomised" and "Cars" - but a writeup on those can wait until tomorrow. I promised Lorraine that I would watch something with her this evening. Spending time together and that kind of thing. Definitely not a chore.

After last night's post I went into the bedroom. Lorraine was still awake. She took one look at me and burst into tears. For a long time I held her as she physically heaved against me. Eventually she stopped, wiped her eyes, said she loved me and went to sleep.

Yes. You might say that some scars are going to take a long time to heal. That's OK. I am not going anywhere.

Today was weird, but we got through it. Lorraine asked me what time my Mom wanted us at the restaurant, so it looks like Lorraine will be attending the meal after all.

Thanks for all of the comments, by the way.

Every day I walk through the car park at work and see the M.D.'s porsche with the personalised number plate. ("W4ANKER", or something like that.) Every day I have to fight the urge to get my cock out and piss on his car.

Every day, on the way to my desk, I pass the Technical Support team leader Terry Pig, slouched in his chair. Every day I resist the urge to grab him by the throat to throttle the arrogance and indifference out of the cunt.

Every day I watch Lucy Toad, second in charge of one of the other Product teams, berating good people for lack of effort, while she gossips, skives, hangs around with the middle management clique, goes on smoke breaks or surfs the Internet in work time. I want to punch the stupid, lazy, stick thin, useless tart in the face, but I never do. I do not perform physical violence on women.

I believe that you can see a happy company in shades of yellow, orange pink and purple. Healthy and beautiful. Vitamin C for the soul.

The Company is grey and black and yellow. A sick and diseased old man. Decaying, crumbling and rotting flesh. A black chasm of a tooth rotting away with gum disease. The ebola virus. Aids. The plague. Bird flu. A nasty place to be.

I believe everywhere we are now seeing Future Shock. Technology has outstripped the ability of man to comprehend it. I don't know if I even want to try to keep up with it, anymore. I used to love it, but working in IT in 2006 is shit.

It has been a very bad day. Fuck it.

Lorraine's Brother called this evening to say that his missus is pregnant again with another set of twins. Lorraine said that she is happy for him, but I looked in her eyes and they tell a different story. No children for her and it's all my fault. I wouldn't make a decision.

My Mom and Dad would have been married 50 years on Friday. We are all going out for a meal to celebrate. My Mom is very anxious that we do it. She thinks that it is a good thing to celebrate, even though my Dad will not be there. I have arranged for my Mom to have some flowers delivered on Friday morning.

Lorraine didn't see the point in celebrating a 50th wedding anniversary that never happened. I disagree. There is every point. If my Mom wants to do it... Then that is the point. If Lorraine doesn't want to come, then she can stay at home. Fine by me.

I have been tagged by Daisy Mae.

What’s in my wallet?

1. Cineworld Unlimited card.
2. Caffe Nero Fruit Booster Loyalty Card.
3. Your M&S Hot Food To Go card. (I actually have no memory of picking that one up.)
4. Caffe Nero Loyalty Card.
5. Another Cineworld Unlimited card. (Eh? Oh, I remember. They said the card was damaged, so they sent me another one. Funny, that. I used both...)
6. W. H. Smith Club Card.
7. Nectar Card.
8. Barclay Card.
9. American Express Card.
10. Lloyds TSB Debit Card.
11. Lloyds TSB Credit Card.
12. Caffe Uno Loyalty Card.
13. Johnson's Cleaning Priority Club Card.
14. Nationwide Debit Card.
15. Nationwide Credit Card.
16. MVC Card. (Used once in 2003. Chuck the fucker!)
17. Abbey Cashpoint Card.
18. Comet Your Way Card.
19. House Of Fraser Card.
20. Debenhams Card.
21. Company Key Card (which holds the worst picture of yours truly ever taken - look at it and you will turn to stone.)
22. Kate Winslet's phone number on a bit of paper. (Made that one up.)

What’s in my car?

1. Haven't got a car! If I did have a car I would have one of those control panels in the dashboard that would turn the car into a weapon. You know the kind of thing. Machine guns out of the sides, missiles out of the exhaust, etc. Oh, yes. And an ejector seat.

What's in my closet?

1. Too many shirts.
2. Not enough pairs of jeans.
3. Too many T-shirts.
4. Too many sweatshirts.
5. Not enough jumpers.
6. Ties.
7. Not enough pairs of shorts.
8. Too many coat hangers.
9. Trousers.
10. Jogging trousers. (I last jogged in 1983!)
11. Plastic bags.
12. Porn videos.
13. Porn magazines. (Hmm... If I say so myself, Chasey Lain looks kind of fine.)

I am addicted to You Tube. There are videos posted on that site that I had no idea existed.

Time for a quick test.

Here's a Darling Buds classic and a bit of an interview.

That worked well! (Maybe I will drop a couple of more favourites into the blog in the future, but I won't make a habit of it.)

If the Darling Buds had appeared 5 years later, in the middle of Britpop, they would have been huge. I really believe that.

Gotta go. "Lost" awaits.