Pynchon

I suppose than when the highs are great, the lows have every right to be deep.

After a very great day yesterday (meeting up with Graham, the Fratellis gig), I have had a very bad day today. It's a build up of things.

I've never felt so cold or alone or unwanted or useless or fat.

I will do the maintenance thing (adding links, etc.) because that makes me happy and I hate turning the computer on and doing nothing.

I will be back at some point.

Labels: Illness

There is a sense of disquiet in residence chez Pynchon. I feel nervous and anxious. I don't know what to do with myself. I get up. I wander around the house. I go out. I come home. I eat. I watch TV. (Last night Lorraine convinced me that I wanted to watch "Roman Holiday" starring Audrey Hepburn. Nice little film, bittersweet even, but so fucking slow. Yawns loudly. Lorraine recently bought a box set of Audrey Hepburn films - "Breakfast At Tiffany's", "Funny Face", "Paris - When It Sizzles", "Sabrina" and "Roman Holiday" and I have honestly enjoyed all of them except for "Roman Holiday".) I go to bed.

Bollocks to this. I know what it is. I put it down the presence of the builders outside doing the off road parking thing.

They have done nothing to me. They are perfectly nice guys. The job looks good. The site is as tidy as it can be. Bar a couple of delays due to bad weather, the job looks like it will nearly be completed on time. All is good.

Except that I want the builders gone. I don't want them knocking my door and wanting something from me. I don't want the hassle. I want things to be serene and straight and nice. I want peace and quiet. I don't want to be bothered.

If I was paranoid I might suspect that Lorraine planned for this disaster to happen while I was having a break from work, so that I would have to deal with it, but I'm not paranoid. Am I?

Nah, just mentally ill. Probably.

(Takes deep breath.)

I am out later seeing the Fratellis at the Carling Academy. Before that I will be meeting up with the mighty Graham for a brew or two. Before that I will be making some phone calls and before that I will be watching the news. Which is about 10 minutes away.

So, I'll leave you with this clip that I found on You Tube. Enjoy. It's not as rocking as the Katrina and the Waves version, but didn't the Bangles look nice and didn't Mr. Spock look cool? And Debbi Petersen sings lead!

Pop music. Isn't it great?

Labels: Building, Movies, Music

What was it William Goldman said in his fine book about working in Hollywood, "Adventures In The Screen Trade"?

Nobody knows anything.

He was right. I know nothing.

So, what did I get re. Oscar predictions? 3 out of 8? Pretty poor. I also forgot to put my prediction down for Best Foreign Film. Just as well. I would have gotten that wrong as well. (I would have gone for "Pan's Labyrinth".)

Looking at the night overall, my score rate was better. I got 12 right out of 24. Lorraine got 9 out of 24. I win. I will be looking forward to our meal out. Don't you find that food always tastes better when somebody else is paying?

Labels: Movies

The Oscars start in about six hours; approximately 1am UK time. I'm ready and my provisions are in. Fruit, coffee milk, crisps, spicy dips and cornflakes. (I eat like a pig all night and I will feel unwell tomorrow. It's the way it goes.) All that is needed now are my predictions.

Er... Bit fucked on that count, chief. I have no idea what is going to win. There are more films than normal nominated this year that I have not seen, and all of the categories, bar one, are totally wide open.

Oh, well... Here we go. The main awards.

Best Film: "The Departed". I've not seen it. I just didn't fancy it. Seemed just to be a load of tough guys being tough and I had no interest in seeing that film. No doubt I will see "The Departed" eventually. Everybody I know who has seen it rates it, and it is as good a guess as any of the other choices.

Best Director: Paul Greengrass for "United 93". Scorcese is due, blah, blah, blah, but I think that Greengrass' work was outstanding. I'll stick with that. I will probably be completely wrong.

Best Actor: Peter O'Toole for "Venus". My head says Forrest Whitaker, but my heart says Peter O'Toole. Yes, Forrest Whitaker has won various awards for his work in "The Last King Of Scotland", but the Oscar is the one that matters and the one that everyone remembers. There are parallels here with Al Pacino and Paul Newman, both of whom were nominated several times and did not win, only to win later in their careers for not career best performances. The difference here is that Peter O'Toole's performance in "Venus" is absolutely brilliant and is one of his best. Last chance saloon. I wouldn't bet against him.

Best Actress: Helen Mirren for "The Queen". Can anybody else win this? I don't think so. It's the only certain award, as far as I am concerned.

Best Supporting Actor: Jackie Earle Haley for "Little Children". I was absolutely knocked out by his performance. Very difficult part in a very underrated film.

Best Supporting Actress: Abigail Breslin for "Little Miss Sunshine". The Academy love giving awards to little girls with talent beyond their years. Tatum O'Neal, Anna Paquin, etc.

Best Original Screenplay: "Little Miss Sunshine". Not seen it, so cannot comment, but it is a very highly regarded film and I am sure that it will win something.

Best Adapted Screenplay: "Notes On A Scandal". A really good script and the only one from the list that I think could win it.

Go on. Take the piss. I don't care.

Last night Lorraine and I went to see "Martha, Josie and the Chinese Elvis" by Charlotte Jones at the Birmingham Rep. It was amazingly OK, but hardly anything special. The feeling I had was that it had all been done before by people like Willy Russell and Mike Leigh. Funny enough, I suppose, but with some abrupt shifts in tone. Lorraine said that she liked it a lot.

Today I went to see "School For Scoundrels".



I only went to see this because I wanted to avoid the hordes of popcorn eating scum making their way into "Hot Fuzz". (I'll see that on a quiet midweek showing before I go back to work.) I won't say that I wish I hadn't bothered, because I'm of the opinion that any film is worth seeing, but "School For Scoundrels" is truly rubbish, crap and not very good. Lame is also good word.

Not funny enough. Not nasty enough. Not pacy enough. Way too polite and amiable. Where was the farce and the violence and the pain? Billy Bob Thornton sleepwalks his way through his part, and that is a shame because he could have been great, and we know that with the right material Jon Heder can be incredibly funny. Such a shame. What were they playing at? It should have been better.

According to IMDB "School For Scoundrels" was inspired by the 1960 movie "School for Scoundrels or How to Win Without Actually Cheating!". Don't believe a word of it. Practically the only elements they took from the original was the title and a comedy tennis match. If only they had remade that movie, which is a little British gem. Ian Carmichael, Terry-Thomas (the ultimate cad), Alistair Sim.

Sigh.

Labels: Movies, Plays

I didn't get back last night. I was busy chilling, eating food, sympathising with Lorraine on her awful day, dozing off, watching "Bonkers" (oooh, that Lisa Tarbuck!) and "Rescue Me" (oooh, that Dennis Leary!) and then taking to my bed to enjoy a coma like sleep.

As much as getting up really early (6am) on my days off affords me the opportunity to get loads of things done, I don't think that I will be doing it tomorrow (Saturday). I probably need to acclimatise myself for the all night stint of the Oscars on Sunday night/Monday morning. It's an interesting Oscars this year because, with a couple of exceptions, I have no idea who is going to win the major awards. I will post predictions guesses, but not yet. Lorraine and I normally have a competition where we choose the winners and the person with the least correct pays for a meal for the two of us. Lorraine is mighty pissed off at paying for a meal at this time every year. Ha! Ha! Ha! Maybe I should let her win? A nice boyfriend would do that.

Talking of movies, yesterday I saw "For Your Consideration".



I thought "For Your Consideration" was OK. Amusing enough and a perfectly acceptable way to fill a couple of hours on a wet Thursday morning. It shares the same core cast as Christopher Guest's last two films "Best In Show" and "A Mighty Wind", but is definitely not as good as either of those. This time Christopher Guest did not shoot the film as a mockumentary, which was strange because the material would have suited that approach very well. Maybe "For Your Consideration" would have worked better if he had? I don't know.

I did love Catherine O'Hara as a nice, middle aged actress who lets the thought of an Oscar nomination completely go to her head and, it has to be said, Parker Posey's one woman show is utterly bonkers. Also, Eugene Levy can make me laugh just by walking onscreen and I want hair just like Christopher Guest.

Today I saw the new Jim Carrey film "The Number 23" .



I'm torn on this one. Exactly 50-50. I did enjoy it, and the first half is great and full of ideas and atmosphere, but then "The Number 23" gets dafter and dafter, sillier and sillier, and more and more overwrought as it progresses. It's definitely a stew of a film. (That might not be too bad if you like a good stew.) A mix of mathematics, paranoid conspiracy, supernatural, murder mystery and private dick/femme fatale fantasies. I thought it had passing echoes of films like "Angel Heart" (which I think is a little masterpiece) and "Conspiracy Theory" (which I don't).

I do like Jim Carrey, but I don't know if he was the right actor for the lead in this film. Lorraine really hates Jim Carrey's gurning, rubber faced, loon roles (her words). Hell, I don't mind the "Ace Ventura" films or "Liar, Liar" or "Me, Myself And Irene" or "Bruce Almighty" et al, they are what they are. But at his best ("Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" , "Man On The Moon" and "The Truman Show") he can be brilliant.

Jim Carrey fan letter over.

Other news.

Two thirds of The Jam are touring. I have got tickets for the Wulfrun Hall, Wolverhampton show and I am very happy at the thought of seeing them perform, with or without Paul Weller. There has been some dismissive talk about a Weller-less Jam playing live and I have heard words bandied about like "travesty" and "disgrace" and "shame".

Frankly, I couldn't give a monkeys.

One of the best bands I have ever seen live were a Jam tribute band called All Mod Cons. I saw them years ago. Absolutely magnificent. Brilliant. Full of energy and bite and power, and those songs... Anyway, you get the drift. Simply put, I will be seeing one of the greatest rhythm sections to come out of the British New Wave playing the songs that made them famous, and even with a different front man, that is something to look forward to.

Rant over.

Anyway, I have Moroccan curry to cook. And remember...

"Going Underground (Underground)"
"Let the brass bands play and feet start to pound..."

Labels: Movies, Music

So... Amy Winehouse at the Carling Academy in Birmingham.



I think I'll split this into negatives and positives.

Negatives first.

1. There were two support bands. One too many, if you ask me. (I know bands need to be given a chance, and I've seen some great support bands that have gone on to be very big indeed - Wet Wet Wet supporting Lionel Ritchie and the Housemartins supporting... Er... Can't remember - but one support band is enough, thanks guys.)

The first support band (3 guys, acoustic guitar, bass and keyboards - I think they may have been called Cherry Ghost) made no impression on me whatsoever. Thankfully they did not play many songs.

The second support band (I think they were called Mr. Hudson and the Library) looked and sounded as if they had dropped through a time warp from 1985, and were everything I hated about the 80's. Bad suits, bad haircuts (bleached blond under, yes, a trilby), bad drum sound (horrible synthey, tinny, pow-pow, crash crash), bad faux Caribbean keyboard sound, wailing black female singer playing percussion. Terrible. Shit. Awful. Thank Christ for Suede and Blur and Oasis and Brit pop.

2. How long should it take from the support band leaving the stage to the main attraction taking to the stage? Half an hour? Three quarters of an hour? Try an hour and a bit, with half an hour of that being a ready stage with nothing whatsoever happening on it. The noise level went up, there was slow hand clapping and then there was booing. Motown and Soul over the speakers is very nice, but we came to hear live music.

3. Amy's bad attitude. Now, I love a bit of bad attitude from my pop stars, but what I don't want when they finally take to the stage, after a long delay, is a comment along the lines of, "If you want a fucking refund, I'll give you a fucking refund".

4. It was a short gig. Amy played for about an hour. I know that most of the songs on "Back To Black" are under 4 minutes, but I think the brevity of the set was mostly to do with the fact that the venue had a curfew of 11pm and they had overrun.

5. The mighty crush at the end of the gig when trying to retrieve my coat from the cloakroom. There's no need for it. All that was needed was an orderly queue and we could all have got out of the venue that much quicker. Also, a special mention to the fat arsehole who pushed his way to the very front of the queue and got into an argument with some young girls who had been queueing for ages. He used certain words to describe these ladies. All I will say is that he was mistaken because it was actually he who was the cunt.

Positives.

1. The audience were great. Really brilliant. In my little area I was surrounded by (in front of me) a very short brunette lady, wearing a backless top which showed off an amazing spiderweb tattoo on her back, (to the left of me) a very large black lady, dressed all in black, who danced with abandon, and (to the right of me) a large chested teenage lady wearing a low cut top, who looked exactly like Britney Spears down to the daft blond wig she has been pictured wearing recently.

2. The band and stage set looked amazing. The guys in white shirts, black suits and ties; Amy in a long navy blue dress, long black gloves and hair piled high. She looked like a tattooed Ava Gardner (a good thing). The stage set was simple curtains at the back (sometimes blood red, sometimes deep blue, depending on the lighting) and lamps. Really stunning. It was like an old fashioned supper club review.

3. Amy and the band sounded amazing. Obviously the highlights were "Rehab" and "You Know I'm No Good", because most of the audience knew those, but that girl really sang with bite and power. The band were tight, the grooves were hypnotic, and I had no choice but to wiggle my buttocks to the music. Several people fainted at the sight.

A mixed night, then.

I am on holiday. I do not have to go back to work until Thursday next week. It's not a relaxing time (I was up at 6am today), but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Is that the time? (17:14). Lorraine will be home sometime around six. There is food to be cooked...

Back later.

Labels: Music

Yesterday I felt bad. Really bad and really sick. I think that everything had managed to get on top of me and I worked myself into a tizzy.

I barely slept Sunday evening/Monday morning. I woke with a headache. I took pills and went to work. The headache came back. I took more pills. I snapped at everybody. Lorraine ignored me because I was just being Bad Pynchon. In the afternoon I was sick in the toilet. I craved and ate junk food (3 packets of crisps and 3 bars of chocolates) and was sick again. I refused to go home. The headache came back and I found that couldn't stand bright lights. Migraine? Maybe. Home time and Lorraine managed to wrangle a lift home for us, thank God. I don't think I could have stood the journey on the bus.

As soon as I arrived home I took more pills and went to bed. Two hours later, after the sleep of the dead, Lorraine asked me if I wanted to eat something. I did. I felt a lot better. I chilled in front of the TV and went upstairs when Lorraine went to bed. (A bit later than normal, for her, as she was visiting a customer site today and was going to be travelling from home.)

And then things got a lot better.

Lorraine was in bed. I stood in the doorway. I said, "I don't suppose you fancy any sex, do you?"

"Not really, John", she said.

"How about just assisting with some wanking?"

She thought about that for a couple of seconds.

"OK, but it'll have to be in your room".

Good enough for me.

We retired to my room. She took off her red dressing gown. She looked amazing. I did the deed and she assisted,. She let me touch her chests, after I had promised not to grab, and it was wonderful and rude and glorious.

(Too blunt? Couldn't give a bollocks.)

Afterwards I said to her, "I just want us to be like we used to be", and she said nothing, but she did kiss me on the cheek and told me that she loved me.

I'd call that a result. Yes? Yes, that is a result. All I have every really wanted is the hope that things are going to get better, and now they just might be get better. Talking about things is the thing that we need to crack now.

Tomorrow evening I will be with Amy Winehouse at the Birmingham Carling Academy. Well, strictly speaking I'll be in the audience, but you never know. Ha! Ha!

Back on Thursday.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex

No film today, because I managed to spend the whole of the day at Sister 1's messing with her PC. I didn't really mind. I find that I learn an awful lot about how PC's and Windows works by messing with my siblings' PC's. (Mess with my own PC first? Fuck off!)

I learnt today that my Niece just loves to download toolbars for Internet Explorer 7. Loading up Internet Explorer on Sister 1's PC was like having a migraine nightmare on a street in downtown Tokyo. (Never been to Tokyo, but I would like to.) Lots of flashing graphics. Lots of adverts. Lots of colour!!! About a third of the screen was taken over with toolbar shit. I asked Sister 1 where all of that stuff came from. She said

"Ask the demon"

indicating my Niece, who was sitting at the table with a serene, innocent expression on her face. Don't ask me - I know nothing, what was she was thinking. I could read her thoughts.

My Niece is the Devil. A smart Devil, it must be said, and way cleverer than she lets on.

With a bit of prompting my Niece helped me download all of the latest Microsoft updates, update the Firewall and Virus checker, renew the subscription on the Firewall and Virus checker that was just about the expire, remove all of the games (except the ones I bought her for her birthday), remove most of the toolbars she had downloaded (Google being the only one we decided to keep), run a defrag, setup filters on Outlook Express, tidy up the desktop and remove all temporary Internet files.

I then let her play me the video of "Flying Without Wings" by Westlife. She found it on You Tube. It's her Mom's favourite record. My Niece thinks that she discovered You Tube.

My Niece is 9 years old. She will be 10 in May. One day my Niece will rule the world. Don't doubt it.

My Niece became bored with old people talk, so she went outside to play. Time for a chat with Sister 1.

Sister 1 leaned back, lit a cigarette, looked me in the face and said

"So, what's going on then, John?"

and I told her. I fessed up. I spilled nearly everything. (I didn't mention the blog.) Lorraine and Me. The lack of communication. The lack of sex. The tension. The frustration. The lows. My anger. A bit about the drinking and the blackout that worried me so much at Christmas.

It was cathartic. I've not had such a serious conversation with Sister 1 for a very long time. There was a time when we were completely honest with each other, because no matter how we fought and fell out, secrets were secrets and would never be revealed.

Sister 1 said that I needed to talk to Lorraine. I needed to talk seriously and quickly, before it all fell apart. She said how much she liked Lorraine, but couldn't understand why Lorraine didn't want to talk about our problems.

Indeed.

Re. Sister 1's personal life, until recently she had been nobbing a guy 15 years younger than herself (she will be 38 this year, so well done Sis!), but now it is over. Something about him texting her for Sex at 4:30 in the morning and her commenting that she was "Not a fucking hooker!"

Turn the page. Time to write of better things.

Yesterday I purchased tickets to see The Who at the NIA in May. I got quite good seats. I'll be going with my Brother and Boz Rude from work. Boz is a massive Who fan and is always good fun.

Finally, next Saturday Lorraine and I will be going to see Maureen Lipman in the play "Martha, Josie and the Chinese Elvis" at the Birmingham REP. I know practically nothing about the play, except that it is a comedy, but Lorraine is a huge Maureen Lipman fan and she wanted to go. I'll read up on the play before I get there.

And that, as they say, is that. I'm off. You can talk amongst yourselves while I'm away.

Labels: Computers, Family, Lorraine, Sex

I like this quote. I don't know who said it.

"Mohandas K. Gandhi often changed his mind publicly. An aide once asked him how he could so freely contradict this week what he had said just last week. The great man replied that it was because this week he knew better."

I also like this quote. Again, an unknown quotee.

"You cannot propel yourself forward by patting yourself on the back."

I pat myself on the back a lot. I think that I am awfully clever. I know that I am awfully clever. I am smug, self satisfied and inflexible. I know that I am in the right regardless of how many people think that I am in the wrong. I think that anybody who disagrees with me obviously is not in full possessions of the facts, or is an idiot, plain and simple.

Basically, if you knew me personally for any length of time, I think that you would learn to dislike me a great deal.

On the day before Lorraine and I moved in together, my Mom took Lorraine's hands, kissed her on the cheek and wished her the best of luck, because "You're going to need it, love". My Mom has always said that I am unbearable to live with and that's from somebody who I truly believe loves me.

This evening I've been watching "Brokeback Mountain" on Sky Movies. I've seen it before at the cinema, but it is still an engrossing, astounding and brilliant piece of work. One of my favourite films of the past couple of years. There is a great and real scene when Jake Gyllenhaal says to Heath Ledger, "I wish I knew how to quit you."

Yes. I wish I knew how to quit Lorraine.

I bought Lorraine flowers. Beautiful pale red tulips. I've been pushing things the last couple of days and it has all been to no avail. All it has caused is stress and anger. I wanted to make amends. Lorraine loves flowers and she liked the tulips. She was surprised and I got a kiss.

Did I have an ulterior motive? Did I think that because of the flowers she would want to spend the evening with me and then suggest that she share a bed with me? Of course in my fantasies I hoped that that would happen, but I didn't count on it, and it didn't happen. Lorraine went to bed 10 minutes into "Brokeback Mountain" claiming that she was tired, which was probably true because she went to work today.

And I am here. And I am stuck and upset and angry. Maybe my Mom is right and I am unbearable to live with and I am lucky to have had the time with Lorraine that I have had. My Mom had to put up with me. Somebody else doesn't have to.

This afternoon I went to see "La Science Des Rêves" or "The Science Of Sleep".



Michel Gondry, who directed this, also directed "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind". That was a great film. I would say that "La Science Des Rêves" is OK, but only that. Thematically it is similar to "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" in that quite a bit of the plot takes place in the mind of one man, but whereas "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" was a warm experience, this one is a cold one. Gael Garcia Bernal tries hard, and some of blatantly primitive special effects are quite wonderful, but I just didn't care one way or another. It's a kooky and strange film, and irritating, and is definitely not as good as "Endless Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind".

Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for it. Another day and I might have thought that it was wonderful.

Tomorrow I am going to see Sister 1. Computer stuff to do.

Labels: Lorraine, Movies, Quote, Sex

I had no intention of doing a second post today, but Lorraine decided to watch some ghastly piece of shit movie on TV (the horror has burnt the title out of my brain), so here I am.

Nothing much to write about.

Ah, I know...

Firstly, in an act of blatant self promotion I would like to announce that my Earworms are up on Swiss Toni's blog.

Secondly, I am now reading Stephen King's "The Dark Tower V: Wolves Of The Calla". So far, so good. I really love Stephen King, but it's probably been years since I have actually read any King.

Since the last time I mentioned reading I have finished Lawrence Block's "Tanner's Tiger", which was OK, but was not the best Lawrence Block I've ever read, and Terry Pratchett's "The Light Fantastic", which I enjoyed very much. Lorraine has gone slightly mental on the "Discworld" books. She is now on number six and thinks that I should buy the rest for her.

Yeah, right.

Quiet night. I'm off to listen to some music.

Labels: Movies, Reading

Early again.

Just in case anybody was wondering, on Wednesday evening I didn't throw any water over Lorraine, but I must admit that it was a close run thing. Instead, I waited until she had finished what she was doing and had got into bed, went into her room, asked her if she wanted any "company" (which, of course, she didn't) and then I said

"But you always find time for work, don't you?"

and then impressively stropped away like Mariah Carey upon finding out that her dressing room wasn't filled with flowers and/or cute puppies.

I think Lorraine swore at me. I'm not sure.

Yesterday morning. From Lorraine, a bit of door banging, sarcastic words spoken just below an audible level and lights left on all over the house (which really pisses me off). After that the rest of the day was fine and the evening was really quite nice.

I didn't post last night because I was busy. Yes, I did chores and watched TV. "Bonkers", which is terrible (but isn't Lisa Tarbuck strangely attractive?) and "Rescue Me" which is a work of Godlike genius.

Lorraine is working again tomorrow. Nothing changes.

Labels: Lorraine, Sex, Television

OK... Not the greatest live set of all time. Frankly, Liam's voice is not what it used to be.

I only caught the first three songs and didn't even bother to turn over to ITV2 to catch the full set. No problems with "Cigarettes And Alcohol" or "What's The Story (Morning Glory)", but "The Meaning Of Soul" shouldn't have been in there at all. It should have been "Live Forever" or "Rock And Roll Star" or "Wonderwall" or "Some Might Say" or... You can choose.

I did enjoy the Brit Awards, though. I watch it every year, and it normally annoys the hell out of me, so this is a first.

Hope everybody had big love on Valentine's Day. I did have high hopes for here after Lorraine gave me a massive, big, tongue filled kiss this morning, but she is now on the laptop downstairs doing (urgent - fuck off!) stuff for work and has forgotten about everything else. Any chance I thought I may have had to be a big, lover lover man has now departed.

Now, should I go and get a glass of water and chuck it over her? I tell you something, I'm close to doing just that.

Let me think about it for a minute.

Labels: Lorraine, Music, Sex

Very quick post. I have 5 minutes until the Brit Awards start and Oasis play the greatest live set of all time. (Hey, I can hope.)

The front drive has been dug out. We still have Water, Electricity, Gas, Cable and Internet access. All is right with the world and my tension headache has ceased. Approaching the house this evening I had visions of Electricity cables sparking ominously in the moonlight, the house still smouldering from the flames that raged through it, before being put out by the water from the broken water pipes.

I'm outta here man! I might be back later, but you never know. It is Valentine's Day, after all...

Labels: Building, Music

OK, I'm back.

Chores this morning have been sorted, Lorraine has been phoned at work (she sounds fine and in no way pissed off) and I have 35 minutes before I need to leave the house.

A memememememememe methinks, stolen from the deadly Reed Brothers.

01. How Much Is a Pint Of Milk?

Good question, one for which I sadly have no answer. 50p? I tend to buy 4 pints at a time and it's always totalled up into the credit card bill, so God knows.

02. What's your idea Of Heaven on Earth?

There is no such thing as heaven on Earth. If pressed I would have to say being in love with the perfect person and them being in love with you.

03. Were you a teenage rebel?

Nah. I was always a good lad. Now Sister 1... I could tell you stories about her that would make your toes curl. Strangely she is now straighter than straight and I behave more badly the older I get.

04. Who's the Best James Bond?

Barry Nelson. (Ha! Ha! Look him up.) Michael Jayston on radio. (Really good voice for Bond and he was seriously considered as a replacement for Roger Moore midway through his tenure.) In the cinema? Probably Connery, but Brosnan had his moments.

05. Who is the Person you most despise?

Frequently myself.

06. Have you ever had a supernatural experience?

Yes. My Dad comes to me in my dreams when a crisis is about to occur. In those dreams he is always the age he would be now if he had lived.

06b. Do you think you've ever lost a job because of your politics?

Nope.

07. What do you want written on your tombstone?

He had a laugh.

08. Last film you ever walked out of?

"Rising Sun". The movie was OK, but the sound was so bad I thought that the Cinema was under attack by mutant bees.

09. Do You Ever Do Your Own Shopping?

Yes.

10. Do you use public transport?

Yes. Most of the time.

11. Would you let your kids do what you've done?

Yes, and all the things I didn't do.

12. When did you last worry about money?

This morning.

13. What's the best thing you've ever stolen from a hotel?

I don't really do that kind of thing, but Lorraine has a fine selection of shower gels.

14. Have you ever been arrested?

No.

15. How do you behave when you're drunk?

Happy, then angry, then (a recent development) blackouts. I've not been drunk seriously since that blackout happened.

16. Do you know any good hangover cures?

Cornflakes, bananas and water. It works.

17. How far is too far?

When it isn't funny.

18. Who was your favourite cartoon Character as a kid?

"Bugs Bunny", "Daffy Duck", "Elmer Fudd", et al.

19. How long ago was your last wild night out?

The Company Christmas Party.

20. Would you eat human flesh, if your life depended on it?

Probably not. (Ignores opportunity for a cheap "but I would eat a lady" comment.)

21. Can you swear in a foreign language?

Pogue Mahone

22. Have you lied since we've started talking?

No.

Labels: Mememe

I'm here early because I don't know if I will be inclined to get onto the Internet tonight. If things go badly with the building work, and I lose my Internet connection, then this may be the last post for a while. But I will be back. Don't doubt it.

Last night Lorraine and I finally had the confrontation that has been threatening since the start of the year.

For the first time in near-on a month and a half I made advances towards Lorraine. It was deliberate. I was forcing the issue. Lorraine stopped me and said she had a "headache".

And then I said, and I remember it exactly, because I had pretty well been rehearsing it for days, "You always have a headache, even when you don't have a headache. Do you know something? This relationship is a sham. It's been a sham for a long time. We are barely a couple. We sleep in separate bedrooms, don't do anything together, and it's become a fucking joke. Have you even noticed that I'm not sleeping in the same room as you? You haven't mentioned it. Or are you relieved that I don't bother you anymore? I don't know how you think we can stay together, unless we go to see somebody and sort this out."

She was angry and hurt. She said some things, I said some other things, then I slammed the door and went to bed.

It was a bit of a frosty atmosphere first thing this morning. She snapped at me. I snapped at her. Gradually things warmed up. We made some small talk about some drivel on the TV and she left for work, just after 6:30am.

Words are difficult and do not express what I am thinking.

I just want to love her. I want to love her properly. I want us to be like we were a couple of years ago. Am I such an animal? (She hasn't called me that exactly, but I think that she thinks it.) Am I that insensitive? Is this the way that middle aged couples are supposed to be? Am I an aberration because I don't think that mad sex and enjoying it is the prerogative of young people?

I'm amazed that I haven't cheated on her. Except for Friday's brainspike I haven't come close. I'm not greatly attractive, though, so I suppose that is a blessing.

How boring is this? Very boring. What's that line from that Springsteen song? "I'm tired and bored with myself".

I am.

Labels: Lorraine, Sex

I am incredibly stressed.

Lorraine has convinced me that the best thing to do to increase the value of our house is to go for off-road parking. A group of men are coming on Wednesday to start to rip out the front gardens of myself and our Neighbour (Mr. Rasta - nice guy) before laying the foundations of a structure that will accommodate several cars off-road.

We do not own a car. Mr. Rasta has two.

I am incredibly stressed.

Water pipes. Electricity wires. Gas pipes. Cable/Broadband ... Er... Cables. I am expecting the worst.

I do not know how I manage to allow myself to be talked into such things.

I really cannot write anymore now. I am off to shoot myself.

Labels: Building, Stress

Up and down. Up and down.

Two minutes after I logged off Lorraine walked in with Valentines Day presents, giving me the unmissable offer to open them early. (Probably because she had forgotten to buy any wrapping paper.) Will power is not a phrase I am familiar with, so I said OK.

She bought me the box set of "Night Gallery Series One" (which was Rod Serling's television follow up to the legendary "The Twilight Zone", and is not as highly regarded by the critics, but it had some very good stories and I remember it fondly) and "The Quatermass Collection" (which contains what remains of the original television versions of "The Quatermass Experiment", "Quatermass II" and "Quatermass And The Pit") and is something that I have promised to buy myself for a very long time.

I was not allowed to open the card. The card will have to wait until Wednesday.

My presents to her? "Bat Out Of Hell II" by Meatloaf (we are going to see him in May) and the largest box of chocolates in Thorntons. It doesn't sound much, but I think we spent about the same amount of money.

We had a hug and a kiss and things seem to be OK again. Until the next time.

I forgot to mention that I went to see the Hugh Grant/Drew Barrymore vehicle "Music And Lyrics" yesterday.



There was a perverse reason for seeing this film. Most of my write ups of the films I've seen this year have been, in the main, quite positive. I wanted to see something that had a better than average chance of being dreadful. Perspective required and all that.

Guess what? "Music And Lyrics" isn't dreadful. In fact I would go so far as to say that it is a great and entertaining movie and totally hit the spot for me this weekend when I needed to laugh.

Yes, it is 20 minutes too long and yes, Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore hardly stretch themselves and can do this kind of stuff in their sleep and yes, it is predictable in the extreme, but it is very funny, Hugh is charming and Drew is gorgeous (I have had long discussions with a certain guy who thinks that Drew is not gorgeous and is actually deformed, but he is a prick, because Drew is gorgeous and I will come after anybody who disagrees with me with a gun). There is also a spot on spoof of an 80's pop video for a song "Pop Goes My Heart", at the beginning and end of the movie, and that song will stick in your head for hours afterwards. They should release it. It would be a hit.

And on that note, I'm off the copy music. Sister 2 has borrowed me one of her Sugababes albums.

Labels: Lorraine, Movies, Music

I have just finished and emailed off my entry for Swiss Toni's Earworms Of The Week. It should be appearing next Friday (16th February 2007) unless Swiss has any objections. I don't know why he should, because all of the choices are excellent (says modest old me).

It's really the only writing I feel inclined to do today, except to say that Lorraine is home and well. Last night was nice. Today was less nice. She is pissed off because I have bought her a Valentine's Day present, when we apparently agreed to skip it this year to buy something between us for the house. (She has her mind on a Digital Radio.) I don't remember agreeing any such thing and it's not as if I have spent a massive amount of money. Anyway, she's gone out to buy a Valentine's Day present and is begrudging every minute of it.

I feel that I cannot do anything right.

I was going to go to the cinema, but I cannot be arsed. I'm going to read my book instead.

Labels: Lorraine, Music

I met a Girl this evening. Her name was Lisabeth.

By about 4pm this afternoon the weather in Birmingham started getting really bad, so The Company started letting people go home early. Being a saint I elected to stay, as I wasn't limited to options to get home (one bus doesn't turn up, another will at some point), but at 5pm I had had enough and left.

The bus shelter was overflowing with people. I reckon there must have been 20 people in the bus shelter and 10 people outside. I squeezed in from one end of the bus shelter and a Girl, I'd seen before many times as she gets the same bus as me, squeezed in after me. We shared a nod.

A bus came. 30 people got on. The Girl and I looked at each other. We were alone in the bus shelter.

"That's better", she said.

"Sure is", I said.

And we started talking. It was half an hour before our bus came. When we got on (ladies first, obviously) we went to the top deck, sat together and carried on talking. You can learn a lot in 2 hours.

Her name is Lisabeth. She comes from Austria. She has a lovely accent. She speaks perfect English. She studied English at school, but said that her spoken English improved dramatically once she started to work in the UK. She sometimes has trouble understanding the Irish and Scottish accent, but has no problem with the full blown Brummie accent. She works as a Credit Controller, not far from where I work. She likes her job. She has lived in London and Glasgow, but likes Birmingham better. She has worked all over Europe, but settled in the UK 6 years ago. She has a boyfriend, who she hardly sees because of the hours that both of them work. She seemed to be very smart.

She is mid 20's, shorter than me, dark haired, has green/grey eyes, perfect teeth and is curvy and pretty. Her hair was wet from the snow and I suggested that she invest in a woolly hat. That made her laugh. She had some blue eye makeup on, but it had run a little because of the water. I had to resist the temptation to wipe it off her face with my thumb. She was wearing an amazing woollen brown coat, black boots and dark trousers.

Oh, yes. Nearly forgot. I wanted her. I wanted her very badly. I felt lightheaded and breathless. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her and hold her and tell her that I loved her. I wanted to hold her hand, walk around with her and show her off to everybody. I wanted her.

I feel awful.

I know that this, whatever this is, is utter nonsense. I do not for one minute think that this is love at first sight, and that tomorrow I will be telling Lorraine that we are all over. I know that this is all about my being on my own for the week, eating badly, over tiredness because I've not been sleeping and my worries about where Lorraine and I are going. This kind of thunderbolt does not happen to me.

I miss my friend Vicky. Lisabeth looked a bit like Vicky.

I am probably coming across badly. Fuck it. This is not me in a good light, but I promised to be honest on this blog.

How am I going to face Lorraine tomorrow, when I pick her up from New Street Station? My face will betray me. It's got to.

Labels: Sex, Weather, Work

(With apologies to Rik Mayall.)

Snow...
All around.
Sometimes up.
Sometimes down.
But always... Around.
Snow.
Are you coming to my town?

Er... Yes. Actually snow has come to my town, but I'm one of lucky ones. The snow has hardly affected me at all. This morning the bus almost came on time, but the roads were very quiet and I arrived early at work. (Something I always try to avoid doing. Ha ha.) I went for my walk at lunchtime. It was slow going, but I wasn't late getting back. Most people with young kids had to leave early, followed by everybody who had reasonably long commutes, as there dark rumours of more snow on the way. I left on time, got the bus on time, was home on time. No worries. The heating in the house has been extended, to avoid any nonsense with burst pipes, but other than that, no change to my routine at all.

Wasn't that boring?

I was around on the net last night, and I could have posted, but exactly what was there to say?

That my "Brothers Of The Head" DVD arrived? (My first DVD purchase of the year. It's a great film and you should check it out. I'll be watching it tomorrow night.)

That I had a heart attack special for tea? (Sausage, bacon, eggs and toast.)

That I watched the England football team embarrass themselves again? (A guy at work is convinced that Steve McClaren has been stitched up and will be out of the England job before the end of the year. I don't believe any such thing. Why stitch the guy up? OK, perhaps they didn't get the guy they wanted initially, but don't the mandarins of the F.A. want Steve McClaren and England to do well? I also believe that even if we do not qualify for Euro 2008, Steve McClaren will be given the chance to lead England to World Cup 2010. Perhaps England are just in one of their cyclic downturns? It's pretty common. In 3/5 years time we could be in the semi-finals of World Cup 2010/Euro 2012. We've done it before after a bad run.)

That I copied fine music by the Sugababes and Bill Withers onto my MP3 player? (And also a double album called "The Best Disco Album In The World... Ever", which is not nearly as grim as it sounds.)

That I miss Lorraine desperately, sex or no sex? (I hate being in this house on my own.)

That was yesterday evening.

This evening, another heart attack special (eggs, sausage and chips - I'm not telling Lorraine, unless she asks me -she would be horrified), fell asleep on the settee, woke up, watched "Bonkers" (which is a pretty typical ITV Thursday evening, housewife in crisis comedy and isn't too terrible), looked for the Television X freeview on cable (which has gone, maybe because Virgin Media have put a stop to such nonsense) and came up here to share some thoughts.

I have earworms to write up for Swiss Toni. I may be gone some time.

Be cool.

Labels: Food, Football, Lorraine, Movies, Television, Weather

Lorraine has arrived safely. She called this evening in the middle of the "Scrubs" double bill, just to annoy me. We had a chat.

She asked if I had eaten properly. I had. She asked me if the house was OK. I said that it was. She asked me if work was OK. Work was fine, except that another member of the team, who has always believed that he should have been given Lorraine's job, decided that in Lorraine's absence that he was in charge and... Ha! Ha! Ha!... decided to try to tell me what to do. Oh, how I laughed while I ripped him apart in front of everybody, because I was not in the mood to put up with such bullshit. Unprofessional of me, and thinking about it probably a bad move, but do you know what? Fuck him.

Lorraine confirmed when she was coming home. I told her I loved her. Lorraine didn't reply, probably because her Brother was in the room with her and Lorraine is not the kind of woman to display any affection to me in public.

... And that was that and it was fine.

So, just to prove that all is not misery and distress in my life (because I refuse to go anywhere near that particular fucking mindset at the moment), some New Words for 2007. Read and enjoy.

TESTICULATING - Waving your arms around and talking Bollocks.

BLAMESTORMING - Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.

SEAGULL MANAGER - A manager who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.

ASSMOSIS - The process by which people seem to absorb success and advancement by sucking up to the boss rather than working hard.

SALMON DAY - The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to getscrewed and die.

PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE - The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.

404 - Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested document could not be located.

OHNOSECOND - That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake (e.g. you've hit 'reply all')

BEER COMPASS - The invisible device that ensures your safe arrival home after booze, even though you're too drunk to remember where you live, how you got here, and where you've come from.

JOHNNY-NO-STARS - A young man of substandard intelligence, the typical adolescent who works in a burger restaurant. The 'no-stars' comes from the badges displaying stars that staff at fast-food restaurants often wear to show their level of training.

MYSTERY BUS - The bus that arrives at the pub on Friday night while you're in the toilet after your 10th pint, and whisks away all the unattractive people so the pub is suddenly packed with stunners when you come back in.

MYSTERY TAXI - The taxi that arrives at your place on Saturday morning before you wake up, whisks away the stunner you slept with, and leaves a 10-Pinter in your bed instead.

Labels: Humour, Lorraine, Television, Work

I really shouldn't make statements about when I will be blogging, and on what subject, because inevitably something always gets in the way and I end up letting myself down. Yesterday was a moot point.

Morning. I arrived early at Gay Tarquin's Hairdressing Emporium. I am the only man who frequents the establishment on a Sunday and I think that Gay Tarquin appreciates the eye candy (Me!). He's a nice guy. I like having my hair cut on a Sunday. I'm in and I'm out. Ooooh, err...

This time I had my hair cut by a lovely girl I had never seen before. Said lady didn't look a day over 10 years old, so it was very disconcerting when she started talking about her 6 month old baby. OK, then... She did a good job, though. It's probably the shortest I have ever had my hair. I look like Ray Winstone in that film "The Final Cut", but obviously sexier.

Afternoon. Went to see "Babel". More about that in a bit.

Evening. Purchased a Chinese takeaway, because neither myself nor Lorraine could be bothered to cook. Announced that I would give her the pleasure of my company for the first half an hour of "Starman", that was showing on Sky Cinema, and that then I would have to depart to write deep and important things on the blog. Of course I ended up watching the whole of "Starman", then the first hour of "Big Trouble In Little China" and then the double bill of "24".

By that time it was 11pm and I was knackered. Too late to blog or do anything. I went to bed.

TV. The opium of the masses. I don't know who said that, but they were right.

On Saturday I went to see "Notes On A Scandal".



Oh, yes... I did enjoy "Notes On A Scandal". It is very really black, very funny and sometimes over the top. Neither Judi Dench's or Cate Blanchett's characters are sympathetic (they both deserve what they get), although Bill Nighy, who is given little to do, is kind of saintly. It's a quite nasty and bitter film, but I really thought that "Notes On A Scandal" was wonderful and hilarious.

Was that the correct reaction? I really couldn't say. I suppose that as much as you try to avoid it, all of us take our cues from the audience that surrounds us. On Saturday the laughter started from a middle aged couple a few seats away from me. I joined in, so did others, and it carried on from there.

I've read a couple of mixed reviews and it seems that the critics were taking "Notes On A Scandal" all very seriously. They were surprised by the ambivalent tone and the fact that Judi Dench was playing such a horrible cow, but Judi Dench has often played horrible cow's. I'll include in that list her parts in "Mrs. Brown", "Shakespeare In Love", "Pride And Prejudice" and "The Importance Of Being Ernest". All cows and all horrible!

Great film. Really enjoyable.

On Sunday I went to see "Babel". It couldn't be more different from "Notes On A Scandal".



Four stories interlinked, different time frames, different settings. The stories are linked in ways that we can only guess at.

Two young boys play with a gun. A bickering American couple experience a crisis on a bus tour of Morocco. A Mexican woman attends the wedding of her son. A Japanese schoolgirl is desperate to lose her virginity.

Director Alejandro González Iñárritu has done this kind of multi-linked, multi-character drama before with "Amores Perros" (which I liked a lot) and "21 Grams" (which I didn't). I think that "Amores Perros" is probably a better movie than "Babel", but "Babel" does have a lot to recommend it.

It's hard going at times, and mostly very serious, but it's also beautifully constructed and very moving, especially in the Japanese sections. Great performances by Rinko Kikuchi, Adriana Barraza and (surprise?) Brad Pitt. In fact, I think that this is probably Brad's best performance since "Fight Club" and the first film that I have seen him in recently in which he looks his age. (He's 43. A couple of months younger than me. 1963 was a very good year...)

I did like "Babel" . Stef didn't. Stef said that he didn't care less about any of the characters. I did. I am right and he is wrong, so there! (Blows raspberry.)

"Babel" is not blockbuster fodder. It should be seen.

Lorraine is going away tomorrow to stay with her Brother. To cut a long story short, Lorraine's Brother's missus gave birth to her second set of twins a couple of weeks ago. Initially things were OK, but the twins were taken to hospital yesterday with some kind of virus. Certainly not life threatening, but bad enough for them to be kept in hospital. Their Mom is going to stay with them, so Lorraine offered to help as she had annual leave left over that had to be taken.

Lorraine will love it. Looking after children. The one thing that she really wanted in her life. The one thing that I never wanted to give her. The thing that started the whole of this sex business mess off.

Lorraine and I get on fine. We share this house. We share everything, except for a bed. There has been no comment about the fact that I am now in the front bedroom; no comment at all except for the bland, "It's time you changed your sheets" or "Don't forget to close your windows". It's as if we have slipped into just being housemates and everything that went on before her hysterectomy has been forgotten.

Perhaps I should just call a stop to this now?

No, I won't. Why? Because I love her and I have a pathetic hope that in the future we will somehow get back to how we were. We should talk, but talking only turns into an argument. I am really at a loss what to do. I think that this could carry on for years if I let it.

I will be alone tomorrow, but I am alone when Lorraine is here.

Not the time to think about it now. Bed time.

Labels: Lorraine, Movies, Sex, Time

I was going to write about the Staff Conference.

Once a year the MD feels the need to indulge his Bill Gates/Richard Branson fantasies. He does this by means of the Staff Conference.

A venue is hired that is far too big for the purpose. A multi-media/corporate event company is hired to give the Staff Conference a glossy sheen; all big screens, graphics, fancy lighting and music. All holiday is cancelled, as attendance is compulsory (one guy on Lorraine's team had the day off with a migraine - good man; I might try that next year). The Company closes down for the afternoon, with the exception of a few skeleton staff (people fight to be one of the skeleton staff) and we all normally sit in abject boredom to hear the plan for the new year. It's always the same.

It's a bloody disgrace and a scandalous waste of money. The MD is not a big cheese. He is a crappy bit of cheddar found underneath the fridge. The Company is not a big deal. We are not Microsoft or Virgin. With the amount of redundancies that have taken place over the past two years, they could quite easily host the conference on the first floor of the building we work in. It would not be a big squeeze. The Staff Conference must cost thousands upon thousands to put on, including flying various people from the small offices we have abroad. It has already been announced that the pay review this year will be cost of living (2 to 3 percent, I reckon), but that there will be the possibility for a 3 percent bonus to be paid at the end of the year if "targets are met". Yes, we have all heard that before.

Paradoxically, I quite enjoyed myself this year. Some of the speeches were hilarious, but I did sit on my hands when the applause was being handed out.

The Human Resources boss lady hosted the event. (I like her a lot. She is a decent human being who knows everybody's name and talks to everybody.) She did the opening blurb about "change" and "evolution" and the "next step". She used various John F. Kennedy quotes and compared the MD's leadership with Kennedy (yes, I know, she did - I kid you not) and made an analogy with the position that Kennedy was in when he committed the States to get a man on the moon by 1969 (he made the speech in 1961) to The Company's position in the market place.

Utter toss.

The MD took to the stage. He knows how to give a good speech. He carried the hall, despite outrageous statements like

1. We are the market leader in our product! (No, we are not. There is another Company that is a lot bigger than us. Everybody knows who they are, but their name is never mentioned. Let's call them the Candyman Corporation. Say their name 5 times and they will appear and steal all your customers. I hear that somebody once surfed their web page and spontaneously burst into flames.)
2. Since the launch of our new product, support calls are down by 50%. (Rubbish. If anything support calls have gone up 50% since the new product has gone on the market.)
3. The old product (which is the one I support, practically on my lonesome) will be phased out by the end of the year. (Really? I don't think so. I think that they have been making that particular claim since the day I joined the company, 5 years ago.)
4. The Industry just loves our product. (Nonsense. How come we keep being threatened with legal action, have been bad mouthed publicly by big players in the Industry press and have had to change our name a couple of times because the previous names were mud?)

There were other things. I forget them. After his work of fiction of a speech, the MD handed the platform to various other speakers.

The Development Boss made a speech. He started with a sound clip of Billy Connolly, which was supposed to be a transcript of a meeting with the MD. It was full of swearing, effing and blinding and was very bad. It was terrible and not funny. Hell, I curse. I swear a lot, but I would never consider doing it at a formal meeting, from the stage, in front of a large group of people. The Development Manager came across very badly. Used car salesman. Fat, sweaty, gob shite. Smarmy git.

The Sales and Marketing Director made a speech. I could say it was bad, but that would not even begin to cover just how bad it was. He pretended that he had just could back from a trip to the future. (On the screen there was a mock up of the guy sitting in H. G. Wells' time machine.) He described the Utopian future that awaited us. Everybody was happy. Negativity was a thing of the past. He made jokes about how he did not look any older in the future...

The speech was a stinker. The speech was a catastrophe. It was a clunker. Death hung in the air over the audience. Dogs started howling in the street outside. The Pope awoke suddenly from a dream about the Anti-Christ. There was an eclipse of the sun. A two headed goat was born in a petting zoo just outside Birmingham. A Japanese bloke sitting at the back of the audience tried to kill himself. Paris Hilton had a number 1 single. Weapons of Mass Destruction were found in Tamworth.

Awful. Just awful. (I'll say one thing, though. When I got back to the office, and was telling the story of the speech, I was in tears of laughter.) I've never liked the Sales and Marketing Directory. He is a cunt of the highest order. Rude and arrogant. One day I will tell you the story of how he (and remember, this is a man with no knowledge of the computer side of the business)decided that the server room needed to be reorganised because of a customer visit and some people - better heads who should know better - decided to go with it because they didn't want to stand up to him. We ended up losing access to all of the modems for 3 days, but we had a lovely and pretty server room. I've never liked him, but the speech was that bad I felt sorry for him.

Poor bastard. A genius like Eric Morecombe would have died with that speech.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a bit of a blur. I think we were all in a state of shock. You know that I collected by 5 year service award, along with about 12 other people. When I/we were making our way to the stage they played "Superfreak" by Rick James, which is the song that M. C. Hammer based "You Can't Touch This" on. Good song, the Rick James one. There's a clip on You Tube here. I can't think why they chose it with reference to us, though.

I'm tired now. I saw "Notes On A Scandal" today, but I want to think about it a little and will write tomorrow.

Labels: Movies, Work

I am having problems. I do not have any words in my head at all. Everything is coming out stilted and forced and pretentious. I am incoherent (oh, yes I am) and I cannot explain myself very well. I don't feel I can write anything intelligent about any of the movies I have seen recently. If that continues I may as well stop the blog straight away.

I promised a quick write up of "Venus" that I saw last Sunday. I will be brief.



I thought that "Venus" was very good. I enjoyed it a lot. It starts off as broad comedy (think Old Men Behaving Badly) and becomes something much deeper and richer as it progresses.

Peter O'Toole plays a version of himself that never became a famous and lauded actor. He's an old man, in ill health, scraping a living playing minor parts on TV. He banters with old friends Leslie Phillips (who is brilliant) and Richard Griffiths. O'Toole is lively, caustic and still interested in the opposite sex, even if they are not interested in him. He is alive!

Into his life comes a teenage girl, played by Jodie Whittaker. She is the Niece of the Leslie Phillips character. Withdrawn, childlike, selfish, coarse and (hey!) vile. O'Toole falls in lust with her and pursues her - slowly. He's an old man. She doesn't want to know, but they become friends.

Things happen...

I am not at all surprised that Peter O'Toole snagged an Oscar nomination for "Venus". He might even win. On the night it will all be down to the sentimental vote of the Academy. 8 nominations in 44 years and no win? I wouldn't bet against Peter O'Toole, even though he is up against Forrest Whitaker who has won a fair few of the Best Actor awards over the past couple of months.

I must say a word or two about Jodie Whittaker, who has hardly been mentioned in any of the reviews. She is good. She grows and changes and matures as the film goes on. By the end she is a different person. It's a really great performance.

How was that? Better write up than "The Fountain" ? Maybe it was.

Earlier this week I attended a staff conference and I picked up a 5 year service award. I had told Lorraine that I might go up onto the stage as if I had won the Brit award for Best Single (you know, acting the goat), but she said that The Company would love it if I made a song and dance about it, and so I backed down. I did satisfy myself by giving it some Derek Smalls (fist punching the air in triumph) when they were taking the photo. Lorraine scowled at me. I could see her from the stage.

I consider the award a badge of shame. A testament to my own lethargy, immobility, stagnation and lack of motivation over the last half decade. In the car, on the way back to the office, I tried to open the window and chuck the rotten thing out, but Lorraine wrestled it off me. She said that I was being, and I quote, "A fucking child". Ah, she does knows me.

I want to write a bit about the staff conference, but not now. Some of what went on was hilarious. Well, it was to me.

Next post. I promise.

Labels: Block, Movies, Work