Pynchon

Thank God for the Internet!

I have paid a credit card bill.

I have corrected an estimated Electricity Meter Reading sent to us by Npower.

I have purchased presents for Sister 2's birthday ("Uncle Buck", "Cool Runnings" and "Planes, Trains & Automobiles" - she asked for them as she is a mad John Candy fan and is busy getting DVD copies of all of his movies) and my Brother's birthday (3 Jam albums "Setting Sons", "Sound Affects" and "The Gift" - my Brother confessed that he only owned a Best of the Jam compilation and "All Mod Cons", and figured it might be a good idea if he learn some other songs before we go to see From The Jam (Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler) in December).

What else?

Earlier I had a headache and took a tablet.

I think that just about covers it.

Roll on the weekend. "Jindabyne" is showing at the Cineworld from tomorrow, and I am very much looking forward to seeing it on Saturday. Lorraine and I also have another date at the dreadful Dragon BBQ on Sunday, as my Aunt, Sister 1, Sister 2 and Brother are having a joint birthday meal. (Their Birthday's are all within 15 days of each other.)

I may be forced to have a drink.

Labels: Birthday, Family

Recently Lorraine asked me to change my lunch hour so that it starts from 12pm instead of 1pm. Although now the afternoon sometimes seems endless, an earlier lunch does have an advantage in that I am now having it with a completely different set of people. A change is as good as a rest, and all that. One of the people I now have lunch with is a girl called Mallory.

Ah... Mallory. Lovely girl. Early 20's. Quite petite, slim and pretty. Long brown hair, brown eyes, little square glasses. Kind of innocent, open and enthusiastic. Endlessley likeable. Of course she is as dumb as a bag of spanners, but hey, I suppose beauty comes with it's own cost.

So, today Mal and I were talking, and the conversation went something like this.

Mal: You see a lot of films, don't you John?

Yer Pynch: Yes. I suppose I do.

Mal: I saw a really great film at the weekend.

Pynch: What was that, then?

Mal: It was called "Flight 93".

(Quick digression here, just to explain.

"Flight 93" and "United 93" are completely separate films based upon on the events that occurred on and around United Airlines Flight 93, on the day of the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center, September 11th 2001. Mal was referring to "Flight 93", which was the Emmy nominated TV movie, and not "United 93", which was the Oscar nominated major studio movie.

Weirdly enough, Lorraine has seen "Flight 93", and thought it was a good film, but she has never seen "United 93". I have seen "United 93", and thought it was a very powerful piece of work, but have never seen "Flight 93". No doubt we will synchronise at some point.

End of digression.)

Pynch: Did you like it? ("Flight 93").

Mal: Yeah! It was great. Have you seen it?

Pynch: No.

Mal: It was great. These terrorists take over a plane and the passengers fight back. Bit of a sad ending though.

Pynch: Oh, yeah.

Mal: Yeah. The terrorists crash the plane and everyone is killed. It was sad.

Pynch: You know it was the fourth plane, don't you?

Mal: What do you mean?

Pynch: It was the fourth plane. On 9/11.

Mal: How do you mean?

Pynch: 9/11. The attack on the World Trade Centre? The Pentagon? There was a fourth plane and they think that it was probably going to target the White House. Those people on that plane, they were heroes. They brought the plane down.

Mal: I don't understand.

Pynch: 9/11? 2001? Terrorist attack? 9/11?

Mal: 9/11? I think I've heard about it. What was that about, then?

Oh...

Dan Theman was sitting with us and he raised an eyebrow at me. A master of understatement, that's Dan.

So, instead of giving Mal a slap, I went through a quick summary of the events of September 11th, 2001 (lest we forget, the most crucial world shaping day of the past 10 years), as I remembered them. That over, Mal told me how she was really looking forward to the new series of "Big Brother" and asked me if I would be watching it?

Probably not.

True story.

Maybe it's me. I do not write about current affairs very often, but I do watch the news and I do read the newspapers. I care. I am concerned about what is happening in the world. I sometimes worry about where we are all going. If I didn't do that, maybe I would be happier.

Mal is a very happy girl.

I used to joke in the 1980's, during the whole era of Reagan-Thatcher paranoia, cold war, arms race, nuclear buildup nonsense, that upon hearing of a nuclear attack on the UK, my Mom's reaction would be to get the washing in. You see, current affairs did not impact on her at all. Her life was her kids, the house and that was that. Anything outside of that was just irrelevant and didn't matter a jot.

Maybe ignorance is the way to happiness, but I would prefer to know what is going on.

Labels: Movies, Thoughts

I am stuck in Bank Holiday hell.

It has been raining for days. It is cold. I have a cold (or at least the sniffles). I have nothing to do. (Actually I have loads to do, just nothing that I want to do.) I have been out of the house, sneered at the posters for "Spider-Man 3" and "Pirates Of The Caribbean 3", and come home again.

(How come not a single, solitary cinema in Birmingham could make room for an interesting film like "Jindabyne", which I really want to see, when "Pirates Of The Caribbean 3" is cluttering up multiple screens at the multiplexes? Actually I know the answer to that. "POTC3" will make more money. Now, that is fair enough, but sometimes art should come over commerce.)

Lorraine is downstairs working on the laptop. I have surfed some porn and had a wank.

Bank Holiday hell. Maybe I should start writing that Oscar winning screenplay? Maybe later.

Sorting out Sister 3's computer was easier than I thought. One download and install and it was all done. I then introduced my Nephew to the delights of the "Doctor Who" website. He claims to be a big fan of the show, so I'm surprised that he had never been on it before. (By the way, was I right? Wasn't the last episode a brilliant, brilliant classic? Who thinks that there is going to be tears before bedtime by the end of the next episode? I certainly do.)

After finishing at Sister 3's I went to see David Fincher's "Zodiac".



Really interesting, multi-layered, factually dense, ensemble piece based on the investigation into the Zodiac murders of the 1960's/1970's. As much about the human cost of the investigation on the people involved (policemen, reporters and their families) as it is about the murders and the murder suspects themselves.

"Zodiac" is an old fashioned and naturalistic movie. It wouldn't have been out of place if it had been released in the 1970's and helmed by somebody like Alan Pakula or Robert Altman. This should not put you off. Old fashioned craftsmanship is good and David Fincher has done a fine job. I think that "Zodiac" is a much better movie than "Panic Room". David Fincher is back to being the peak-of-his-game Director that made "Seven" and "Fight Club".

Not a single bad performance in the entire movie. "Zodiac" is very good and definitely worth a view.

Labels: Computers, Movies

Sister 3 annoys the hell out of me.

After my Nephew's birthday lunch at the Dragon BBQ Chinese Buffet (cheap, cheerful and shit, but there were 17 of us there including family, girlfriends, boyfriends and children, and my Sister did pay for a fair few of them), I have spent a frustrating afternoon at her house trying to find out why the speakers on her computer have stopped working.

I am Sherlock Holmes. I pieced it together. It took time. I'm a bit nervous when messing about with software. Sister 3 had accidentally uninstalled her Realtek High Definition Audio Driver.

Eh? How is it possible to accidentally uninstall an audio driver?

Ah, but it wasn't her! A friend who knows a "bit about computers" tried to install Real Player, fucked it up, and uninstalled everything with the word 'Real' in the title. The first time they realised anything was wrong was when they tried to play a clip on You Tube.

Utter clown. Particular pain in the arse today because Lorraine and I had vague plans to visit the cinema this afternoon, which is the only time Lorraine has free. Hairdresser's tomorrow. Monday... I don't know, probably work.

Anyway, it will be sorted tomorrow. At Sister 3's house today I found that I was getting tied up in knots, and a couple of attempts to find and download the correct version did not work. I've come home, had another look and a think and now I know what is to be done. I am going back tomorrow to sort it out.

I'm off. Could be a classic "Doctor Who" tonight. You mark my words.

Labels: Computers, Family, Television

Today I have been working on the slowest NT server of all time.

And this evening I played Agony Aunt for a friend.

Oh, yes. It is my Nephew's 11th birthday tomorrow.

I think that just about covers it.

Labels: Advice, Family, Work

Generally it has been a quiet day.

I went back to work this morning, but managed to get nothing concrete done until the afternoon. I forgot that I was booked onto some bullshit course from 9am, so that took up the whole of the morning. (The Company is pushing to get all it's support employees accredited in IT Service Management, and I am one of the guinea pigs. It is a beautiful fantasy, but it ain't gonna happen without an almighty pulling up of The Company's socks. Total waste of money. They could have given me a pay rise.)

This afternoon I read all the emails that had accumulated in my inbox during my 5 days off. There were hundreds and hundreds of the fuckers. Day after day I drown in a blizzard of correspondence. It's ludicrous and ridiculous and I have been quite vocal about the situation. I reckon that less than 5% of the emails are relevant to what I do. I'm not the only one who thinks that.

Then, finally, Tina Noir gave me a couple of hours worth of training on one aspect of supporting the new product. She was thorough. She demonstrated it carefully. I made good notes. I tried it for myself. She corrected some misunderstandings. It was good.

Home time. Freddie Podge gave me a lift. (Lorraine was on mornings and had already left.)Freddie said how much he liked "28 Weeks Later". I growled at him, but admitted that some of it was really good. Freddie is an Albion fan and is off to the Wembley on Monday for the play off final. I hope Albion win. We need more of the Midlands teams in the Premiership. Also 6 easy points for us next season. Ha ha ha!

This evening we had mackerel, peas, onions and mash, followed by most of a large bar of chocolate. I felt quite sick when I was doing the washing up, or was it the act of doing the washing up that made me feel sick?

Now I'm here.

Ho hum.

I know. I think I will copy some music onto my MP3 player. I have just obtained "A Carnival Of Hits", which is a compilation of the best of the Seekers, and "All Over The Place", which was the first album by the Bangles. The latter was very difficult to get hold of. I eventually managed to get hold of it via the Vinyl Tap website. Very good site. Very fast service. To be honest, I did pay a little over the odds to obtain it, but I think it will be worth it.

Labels: Music, The Company, Work

I'm back.

On Saturday I went to see "Magicians".



"Magicians" has had mixed reviews in the UK. It's from the same producer/writing team as "Peep Show" (Andrew O'Connor, Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain), and if you like "Peep Show", which I certainly do, I don't see why you shouldn't enjoy "Magicians" a great deal. I did. I thought that it was mostly really funny, with Mitchell and Webb playing variations on their familiar "Peep Show" persona's.

It's very British. Set in dreary and mundane locations and all about the plight of losers and misguided dreamers. I cannot see "Magicians" even getting a release overseas, but it will go down a storm when it inevitably gets shown on television, it's natural home.

So, best bits?

Jessica Stevenson's mental audition to the strains of Electric Six's "Gay Bar". (What a brilliant single that was.) Steve Edge's selfish and egotistical magician and his winner of a chat up line. His opening line to the Jersey crowd is a classic. Peter Capaldi's arrogant and sexist compere. The stooge demonstrating his "trip". Robert Webb's mentalist act. David Mitchell's heartfelt tribute to the woman he loves... and it's immediate retraction.

Cracking stuff. Give it a go.

On Monday I went to see "Black Snake Moan".



How's this for a precis of a movie?

Ageing blues man Samuel L. Jackson endeavours to cure sexpot Christina Ricci of her nymphomania, by chaining her to his radiator.

There was no way that I could miss that film, and I didn't.

"Black Snake Moan" is actually really good. Although it is true to say that there are a fair bit of Ms. Ricci's assets on show, "Black Snake Moan" is more than just a latter day exploitation movie. It is a lot less salacious and a lot more thoughtful than you might imagine. Some interesting points made about childhood sexual abuse leading the sexual dysfunction in later life, and the way that the surface image of a person is not necessarily the true image.

Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson both act their socks off, but I doubt that either of them will be nominated for anything for "Black Snake Moan". Shame. Good performance as well by Justin Timberlake as Christina Ricci's absent boyfriend. The only man who can keep her under control, but also a man with issues of his own.

Interesting film.

Last night my Brother and I went to see The Who.



The 6th time for me (3 times before at the NEC, 1 time at Earls Court and now the 2nd time at the NIA). They were really good and were better than the last time I saw them, I think in 2004. For two guys in their early sixties (backed by Pino Palladino (50) on bass, Simon Townsend (50?) - Pete's brother - on second guitar, Rabbit Bundrick (59) on keyboards and the amazing Zak Starkey (42) on drums) they have fantastic energy. Microphones were swung, guitars were power chorded. Pete Townsend was in good humour, which is not always the case. Truly excellent. Really big, clear screens at the back and to the side of the stage, as well. It didn't matter where you sat, you would have seen everything.

It was a long show and they played lots of old favourites (you don't want another list, do you?) plus some songs from the recent album "Endless Wire" (which I don't have). Amazingly enough, the new album sounds just like classic Who. A guy at work offered to burn me a copy, so I will have to take him up on it.

Finally... I have caught up. I should really get back into the habit of posting on the day, or the day, after things have happened.

It's back to work tomorrow. The week has gone so quickly. So far I have managed to avoid it, but tomorrow I start working on the new product. It's scary. I know fuck all about the new product.

Only another two days and then it is three days off, courtesy of another bank holiday.

Lorraine is well. We drift...

Labels: Movies, Music

I've been a good boy today. I have forgone the pleasures of going to the cinema (I would have seen either "Zodiac" or "Conversations With Other Women", if anybody is interested) for the pleasures of doing grown up things like shopping for food, cleaning the bathroom and toilet and ironing clothes. Lorraine returns from work sometime after 6:30pm. Plenty of time for a few film reviews.

Lucky people.

"28 Weeks Later".



(Another nice picture of Rose Byrne to go with the one from "Sunshine", posted a couple of weeks ago. Rose looks a bit upset in this one, but is still scrumptious.)

It will be impossible to talk about "28 Weeks Later" without spoilers, so consider this your warning.

Thank Christ! "28 Weeks Later" is a modern, and un-ironic for a change, horror film. As fast, kinetic, intense and violent as "28 Days Later". Also bloody. Very bloody. Some absolutely brilliant set pieces. (The opening sequence, where an almost middle class dinner party rapidly turns into a blood bath, and Robert Carlyle's frantic flight, leaving his wife to her fate. Robert Carlyle's (again - I really like him) transformation from clean to infected and his subsequent rage filled attack on his wife. The moment when the snipers are told to "kill everything that moves". The fire bombing of the Isle Of Dogs. A helicopter as an up close and personal attack vehicle. The chemical weapon attack.)

Good stuff, but "28 Weeks Later" is undone somewhat by a lazy and predictable script, way too dependant on coincidence. Examples.

Two children can avoid detection by the U.S. army, break out of a secure cordon around the Isle Of Dogs, find a motorbike to go back to where they used to live. Then they find their Mother, still alive.

What?

Robert Carlyle is a trusted caretaker for the U.S. army. Trusted enough, apparently, to have a high enough security clearance to be able to get into a medical facility, where the U.S. army scientists are investigating the rage virus, to visit his wife who is in isolation and is strapped down.

Eh?

Or the worst thing. Robert Carlyle as super infected man! He kept popping up like a jack-in-the-box, as his children's nemesis of choice, long after he should have disappeared into the background. One of a thousand infected getting shot, burned or gassed by the U.S. army.

Final thing. The climatic sequence under Wembley Stadium, in apparent pitch black, was terribly put together. Maybe it was just me, but I had no idea what was going on. Awful.

I don't suppose I cared very much about any of the characters, either.

Lots of criticisms, there, but I liked "28 Weeks Later" enough. I did. It is a true rush of a movie, it just isn't as good as "28 Days Later". Such a shame. Maybe the next film (trust me, a European set movie "28 Months Later" must be on the cards) will be better. Maybe it will become a true saga and we will get sci-fi epic "28 Years Later" a couple of years down the line? That would be interesting.

I've run out of time. Back later or tomorrow.

Labels: Movies

I'm feeling better. In fact I feel kind of great.

What is this up and down bollocks? Some kind of bi-polar nonsense? I've read up a bit about it, but I refuse to diagnose medical conditions that I may or may not be suffering from via the Internet, and I will not allow myself to become a hypochondriac, like my Mom.

I have about an hour and a half before I need to go. Time for some writing and catching up, yes?

Yes. I think so.

Thursday night my Brother and I went to see From The Jam (Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler).



Put your protective clothing on. I have a big statement to make.

From The Jam (Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler) at the Wulfrun Hall, Wolverhampton was the best gig I have ever seen. Seriously.

Of course, they were not The Jam. They could not be The Jam without Weller, but I doubt that Weller could have made the gig any more powerful, any more fun, any more exciting or any more lively. Lead singer/guitarist Russell Hastings did a perfect rendition of the Weller bark, and he and second guitarist Dave Moore (cunningly hidden behind a keyboard or standing towards the back of the stage, so sustaining the illusion of the 3 piece), played those very tasty power chords perfectly.

Rick Buckler may look these days like the oldest man in creation, but Bruce Foxton has not aged a day, and the greatest rhythm section to come out of the British New Wave played with total passion. Total energy from band and audience, from beginning to end. Just magnificent. A dream come true.

You see, I loved The Jam from the very early days. They were the one band (except for The Beatles, of course) that I had always regretted never seeing. The first single that I picked up on was "The Modern World" (which spoke to me) and from then on they were my band. They became really big in the UK towards the end of 1979, when the "The Eton Rifles" single went top 3 and from then on they belonged to everybody.

I assumed that they were going to play the big singles ("Going Underground", "The Eton Rifles", "Start" and "A Town Called Malice") and they did and they were brilliant, but I hoped and prayed that they would play those songs that I loved. The early singles. The album tracks. The songs that I had never forgotten the words to, even 25 years later.

And they did.

"Thick As Thieves", "The Modern World", "Boy About Town", "Pretty Green", "Life From A Window", "In The Crowd" (sadly without the extended coda), "In The City", "When You're Young", "Strange Town", "David Watts", "News Of The World", "Down In A Tube Station At Midnight", "Little Boy Soldiers", "That's Entertainment", lots of others, and one of my absolute favourites, the song that I wept all the way through while they were playing it, "To Be Someone (Didn't We Have A Nice Time)" (by the way, the greatest Britpop hangover song of all time and it was released 16 years before Britpop happened).

This is not much of a post. I find it difficult to put gut feelings into words, because the words are not strong enough. It was a gig that I definitely felt in my gut.

The greatest gig of all time. For me. And I'm going to do it again. We have obtained tickets for the show that From The Jam (Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler) are doing at the Carling Academy in Birmingham, as part of the November/December tour. Tickets still available, guys and girls.

How much of this happy time was down to alcohol, I couldn't say. Let me put it this way. My Brother and I had several brews before we even got to the venue. San Miguel, Coors, Becks, Magners, something else that escapes me. We got to the venue late. Luckily the sound check was still in progress. We had some more to drink, checked out the numerous Ben Sherman, Lambretta, and assorted Union Jack and target tee shirts, before the doors opened and we charged to the front, up against the barriers.

A lady (who looked very much like the Suburban Hen, only about 10 years older) and her teenage son were standing behind us. We engaged them in conversation. I was a silver tongued devil and successfully channelled George Clooney. The lady told me that in 1982 her Dad wouldn't let her go to see The Jam on their farewell tour date at Bingley Hall and that this had always annoyed her. She said that now she ran her own business with her husband. Husband? Pah!

We drank some more. We bought them drinks. They bought us drinks. My Brother told me later that I had pulled and should have gone for it. Rubbish. It was just innocent flirting. I've never pulled in my life.

Going for a piss I ran into a guy from work who was with his mate. His mate had a head like a fish. Huge bulging eyes. I couldn't see any fish scales, but they might have been there. He was scary looking. I shook his flipper and went on my way.

From The Jam (Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler) came on. There was a massive crush. My Brother and I got the lady and her boy, who were being buffeted in the maelstrom, in front of us. I can be a gentleman when I try. We sang. We danced. We got very sweaty.

And something happened, way, way later. One minute I was at the front, singing at the top of my voice, and the next my Brother had me in a vice like grip under my armpits and was dragging me out. (My Brother is only a little taller than me, but he is wide and he is strong. I once said to him that if I was ever in a life or death fight, he was the one person I would want behind me. I asked him who he would have behind him. He said, Mike Tyson. Bastard.) My Brother said I had passed out. Eh? No. Yes. So I saw the rest of the gig (not much of it left) from the sidelines, fresh drink in hand.

It took us ages to find the Metro station. ("Which way did we come?" "Fucked if I know, Bro".) That was a laugh, especially when we found out the the Metro was not going to be visiting Wolverhampton due to a problem with the points earlier. My Brother was extremely pissed off, but I thought it was funny. Eventually we got a bus to West Bromwich and then the Metro to the city centre. We couldn't find any pubs open, so we both went home.

Bananas, water, milk, cereal, toast. No hangover for me, thank you very much.

Great night

3 movie reviews to come, but I have gotta be going.

Everybody sing along now...

"What kind of a fool do you think I am?"
"You think I know nothing of the modern world..."

Labels: Gigs, Music

Heath Ledger as The Joker. It's kind of like looking in the mirror.

Bit down this evening. Didn't want to write. Didn't want to do anything. Not made any better by watching the end of "Greatest Britons 2007".

Apparently the greatest living Briton's in reverse order are

3. Baroness Margaret Thatcher.
2. Robbie Williams.
1. The Queen.

Julie Andrews and Paul McCartney made the top 5, but failed to make the top 3.

Words fail me. Really they do.

TV filler and I sat and watched it and added to it's ratings. That is what I call shit.

I am going to see The Who tomorrow night, with my Brother. I really hope I feel better.

I will catch up with gigs and movies at another time.

Labels: Illness, Television

I set myself deadlines. The deadlines pass me by. Such is life. I will catch up with events, shortly.

Fancy a memememe before I get started in trying to catch up? Of course you do.

Courtesy of Mark who may have gotten it from somewhere else. (I am also a bit behind in what everybody else is up to. Sorry about that.)

1. Can you cook?

Not sure. Depends on what you want cooked. Lorraine has eaten everything I've put in front of her. (Oooh, errr...) I'll have a go at cooking anything, though.

2. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator?

Probably panic, freak out and attack the person next to me. Claustrophobia. It's not a lifestyle choice.

3. What talent do you wish you had?

I wish I could write songs. In fact I wish I was a good writer, full stop.

4. Favourite place?

Here.

5. Favourite vegetable?

I've gone off vegetables quite a lot recently, but if pushed I would say potatoes. (Are potatoes a vegetable? It's a moot point.)

6. What was the last book you read?

Just finished "Equal Rites" by Terry Pratchett. (Not bad, but I didn't think it was as good as the first two "Discworld" books.) I am currently reading "The Circe Complex" by Desmond Cory. (I have a little story about the reasons behind that choice, which I will go into later.)

7. Are you Dirty or Clean?

I can be both. What did you have in mind?

8. Any tattoos and/or piercings?

None at all.

9. Worst habit?

Biting my fingernails.

10. What's your philosophy on life?

Life's too short to have a philosophy on life.

11. Negative or Optimistic?

Optimist.

12. What was your dream growing up?

To be rich.

13. Worst thing to ever happen to you?

My Dad dying.

14. Tell me one weird fact about you?

I have a target whorl fingerprint on one finger on each hand. My Dad had, and my Brother and Nephew have, the same fingerprint on exactly the same finger on each hand. Apparently it is incredibly rare. It looks something like this.



The circles are a bit too small too count, but I have a damn sight more than 7 of them.

15. How do you fall asleep?

Out like a light, most of the time, unless I've been eating chocolate or drinking ginger beer, in which case I am throwing myself around the bed for hours. Good job that I am not sharing the bed with anybody at the moment, isn't it? (Bitter? Moi? Nah.)

16. If you had one day to live, what would you do?

Probably kick some ass that needs kicking. See my Mom, see my family, write something on the blog.

17. A million bucks... what would you do with it?

Invest it carefully and never work for anybody ever again.

18. What is your worst fear?

Suffocation.

19. Favourite thing to do in your spare time?

Going to the cinema and reading.

20. Can you sing or dance?

Sure I can. I've always been a superstar, but the rest of the world hasn't cottoned on to the fact yet.

21. In one word, how would you describe me? Be honest!

Do you mean describe me (as in yer Pynchon) or describe the person you nicked the mememe from (yer Mark)? In that case (me) sad and (Mark) smart.

22. Will you repost this so I can fill it out?

Already done it, chief.

Wasn't that fun?

Now where was I? Oh, yes. Catching up.

A hell of a lot of things have happened since Wednesday night. I'll try not to go on for too long.

On Wednesday night Lorraine and I went to see Meat Loaf.



I once knew a guy. Bit of a muso. Knew his music. Hated pop music. Loved rock music. He told me that the "Bat Out Of Hell" album was great, but that it could have been fronted by anybody, as it was (and I remember this phrase exactly) "just a vehicle for Jim Steinman's Wagnerian concept rock".

Great phrase that. Of course, total bollocks. How could it have been the same without Meat Loaf?

I mean, just how important is the lead singer? If Jimmy Page had gone for somebody else to sing on the first Led Zeppelin album (and he asked a guy called Terry Reid first, but he turned them down), would it have made much of a difference? At that stage Robert Plant wasn't writing very much (he only has one co-writing credit on the first album), so it wouldn't have much of a difference to the songs, but I think it would have made an awful big difference to the sound.

Wednesday night was the fourth time I have seen Meat Loaf live. The first two times were brilliant. The third time was less that brilliant. It was towards the end of the tour. Lacklustre, slow, no energy. Actually really boring. Unfortunately it was the first time Lorraine had seen him with him and she said "never again". Not long after that show we heard that Meat Loaf had been hospitalised with a heart problem. I forgave him. Not his fault. We were determined to see him again, if he ever toured again.

On Wednesday night Meat Loaf was magnificent. Just brilliant. No other word for it. Over the top, monstrous, bombastic, sweat filled gig and as loud as hell. Explosions, guitar solos, foxy female backing singers, drums. A gig full of character. Meat Loaf's character. And it was really, really funny as well.

On screen, first clips of Meat Loaf as he was in 1977. The ruffled shirt and (suede?) jacket. The long hair. The red handkerchief. Then he came out. He looked exactly the fucking same as in the clips. Same shirt, jacket, hair and handkerchief. Straight into the song cycle "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" (normally played later in the set), sharing vocals with one of his backing singers Aspen Miller (who, frankly was a fantastic looker and a fantastic singer), trying to seduce her, failing dismally.

Then suddenly it stopped and she said, "And I could never go with a guy who wears a wig" and she pulled his wig off.

... Well, I thought it was funny. I suppose you would have to be there.

Seriously, though. Great gig and we really enjoyed it. Pure rock panto. It was billed as the "Three Bats Tour" because all Meat Loaf was playing were the songs from the 3 "Bat Out Of Hell" albums. All this meant, practically, was that he did not play was "Dead Ringer For Love", but look at some of the songs he did play.

"I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)", "You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth", "Bat Out Of Hell", "It's All Coming Back To Me Now", "Objects In A Rear View Mirror Sometimes Appear Closer Than They Are", "Bad For Good", "Life Is A Lemon (And I Want My Money Back)", "Blind As A Bat", etc.

I think I need a lie down. I'm suffering from metal fatigue.

(Weirdest thing. Lorraine just shouted up to me that "Tits Ricci is on the TV" referring to the lovely Christina Ricci. I've just thanked Lorraine for telling me, but explained that I will be seeing Christina's tits' tomorrow in "Black Snake Moan" and that the delights of "That Darn Cat" can probably wait.

I've got Christina Ricci's autograph, you know.)

Friday morning I went to see "Next" starring Nicolas Cage, Julianne Moore and Jessica Biel.




I get a lift home from work sometimes with a guy called Freddie Podge. Nice guy. Very amiable. Freddie goes to see all of the big, popular films. (That's fine by me. At least he is going to the cinema. I know more people who don't go to the cinema than do go to the cinema.) Freddie knows that I like movies and we chat about them in the car. A lot of the time we disagree about what we see, but that is fine as well.

Freddie went to see "Next". He said that he liked it, but described it as the most confusing film he had ever seen.

I wasn't confused by "Next", but a particular phrase does come to mind.

What is it again?

Got it.

"Next" is a piece of shit.

Not un-entertaining, in a TV movie kind of way, but with people like Nicolas Cage (very wooden, like everyone says he is, and I normally defend him) and Julianne Moore (who seems to be somewhere else in her head - maybe she was thinking about how the paycheck for "Next" will finance the improvements she needs to make on her house), it should have been so much better. Jessica Biel was really pretty, though.

"Next" is just lame and predictable and strangely unexciting. Probably not a good thing if you are making an action film. (Then again, if you could see two minutes into the future it would be predictable and strangely unexciting. Ha ha ha!) How many times have you see a stolen nuke plot recently? A couple of times.

I liked the ending. Or did I hate the ending? Was it a massive cop out or was it an ingenious head fuck? I don't know.

Maybe I am confused after all.

I have just been told that I need to cook food before we watch Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn in "The Break Up" on Sky Movies at 8pm. I suppose I could tell Lorraine to cook it herself, and do the washing up, but I don't fancy broken fingers.

Tomorrow (I promise), From The Jam (Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler) , "28 Weeks Later" and "Magicians".

Labels: Mememe, Movies, Music

I have a very sore throat. I have had it all day. It's what comes from singing at the top of your voice and pogoing for two hours, after drinking lots of alcohol. I don't mind. It's the mark of a good time. But I might curtail this post, shortly. I should get some rest, but I will write until midnight.

So, where was I? Oh, yes. Eurovision. (As I said before, only a week late, but never mind.)

We were in the canteen last Monday and I asked the following question.

"So, Eurovision? Where did we go wrong?" (We came second from last. I thought it was funny.)

Somebody replied, "Eurovision? Are you fucking gay or something?"

And I said, "I might be...", winked at them and left it at that. I like to fuck with the homophobes in The Company. Not literally, mind.

(By the way, I'm not gay. Or at least I don't think I'm gay. The thought doesn't disgust me, or anything, but when I fantasise or milk the beast (ahem), it's women that I'm thinking about. Maybe I just haven't met the right boy yet?)

Eurovision gets some very strong reactions in this country. A lot of people hate it. They say that it has got nothing to do with songs anymore. I think that those people really should pull themselves together, take a pill and have a lie down, because they really are missing the point.

I love Eurovision. I am unapologetic in my love for Eurovision. If I can (the last one I missed was 1997, coincidentally the last time the UK won - drat!) I watch it every year. Lorraine tolerates this. She thinks that Eurovision is utter shite. I love the political voting (the Baltic states vote for each other, so do the Eastern Bloc and ex-Soviet Union countries, the Western European countries don't, silly buggers), daft costumes, the silly dance routines and the songs, good and bad. I love the campness, the over the top presenters, Terry Wogan's increasingly sarcastic commentary, the colour, the energy and the special effects. I think that it is totally dreadful and totally entertaining.

The UK's entry this year was "Flying The Flag" was Scooch. To be honest, not a masterpiece, but it should have done better than second from last spot. What's wrong with an entertaining slice of Euro Gay Disco/Pop with a great chorus and a guy offering you some "salted nuts" or "something to suck on"? Nothing, that's what. It was certainly better than the Ukraine entry (sung by Verka Serduchka, who was a Su Pollard/Christopher Biggins genetically spliced transvestite mutation) and that came second.

My favourites were Sweden's entry, the glam rock stomp of "The Worrying Kind" performed by a band called The Ark, who sounded not unlike a cross between the Bay City Rollers and The Sweet; the Evanescence style rock of Finland's entry "Leave Me Alone" fronted by Hanna Pakarinen, who was apparently the winner of Finland's "Pop Idol" and the Russian entry "Song #1" fronted by the not-unattractive girl band Serebro, who all seemed to be dressed as schoolgirls, or was that just wishful thinking on my part?



Serbia won with "Molitva", performed by Marija ŠERIFOVIĆ, who Mark has described on his blog as looking like a "wonky K D Lang" and he is absolutely right. Gotta say it, I know Mark liked it, but that song made no impression on me whatsoever.

There were some over excited commentators on Monday morning bemoaning our lack of success and saying that the UK should think about pulling out. Nonsense, and it's not going to happen. Eurovision is a rating winner. At it's peak on Saturday night it got close to 10.5 million viewers, which is more than the ratings hit "Doctor Who" generally gets (and I love "Doctor Who"). Malta seem to be particularly pissed off and want an investigation into voting irregularities in the Eastern European countries. Personally I think that sooner or later a jury system will return, with each country having a jury pick their favourite songs, rather than the population of that country. Unfair, maybe, but that way you might get a wider range of countries winning.

Time for bed. Meatloaf, From The Jam (Rick Buckler and Bruce Foxton) and "28 Weeks Later", tomorrow.

Labels: Music, Television

Hello there! It's been a while. (Actually it has only been 3 days, but it seems like it's been a long while.)

It's not an original observation, but I think it is a true observation, that the reality of living a life sometimes necessitates the act of not writing about living a life. Sometimes the two are incompatible and hence the absence of any blogging on my part.

Er...

Did anybody actually understand that bit I just wrote? Me neither. I shouldn't try to be clever. It only leads to irritation and a bad head. Or is it alcohol that leads to irritation and a bad head? Might be.

My Brother told me that I was absolutely arseholed last night at the From The Jam (Rick Buckler and Bruce Foxton) gig. I've had a night's sleep, lots of water, milk, bananas and toast, but I probably am still arseholed.

I'm going out in about 20 minutes, so this is just a quick post to let everybody who is bothered that I am still alive, haven't vanished, been arrested or taken by aliens. I have a lot to write about. Eurovision (only a week late, but never mind), Meatloaf (thumbs up), "Next" (thumbs down), From The Jam (Rick Buckler and Bruce Foxton), Suburban Hen lookalikes, bug eyed blokes, the dangers of mixing your drinks, Ben Sherman tee-shirts, Lambretta tee-shirts, annoyed Brother's and blackouts.

I wasn't at this gig, but this clip will give you a taste of what last night was like. Imagine yours truly and Brother at the front, up against the barrier.

Labels: Drinking, Movies, Music

This evening I have been a bit defeated by the speed of the Internet connection, and the fact that I didn't get here until 10pm, so I'll admit defeat for the moment.

Thoughts on Eurovision will follow.

... But not tomorrow, because Lorraine and I will be going to rock with Meatloaf at the NEC.

Back sometime on Thursday.

Labels: Time

I was always going to be coming back. It was only a matter of time. Thursday evening was just a bit of a freak out moment. You know the kind of thing. Who am I? What am I doing here? Do I want people to know everything about me? What would happen if I were to just stop? Would anybody really give a toss?

I suppose we all have those evenings. I'm back because I think I have something to say. (Ah... Ego. The saviour of many a writer, good and bad. And here I am, calling myself a writer. Oh dear. Sigh.)

Anyway...

On the face of it, the impression I have of this weekend was of endless activity, but I'm hard pressed to put my finger on what took up all of the time. I did intend to post a little more than a couple of lines on Saturday night, but it didn't happen. It wasn't deliberate.

Friday evening.

We watched a couple of episodes of "Alias" season 4 on DVD. (No spoilers from me, but Joel Grey has just made his first appearance. Eh? What the fuck?)

Lorraine went to bed after that (she decided to go to work on Saturday morning, no surprise there) and I watched "Peep Show". Classic. As far from politically correct as it is possible to get. Kind of stomach churning. "What have you got in the bag?" "It's turkey. We had a barbecue." Outrageous. Brilliant. Apparently an American version is in the development. Why bother? Just show the original for heavens sake.

Saturday morning.

I went to see "Mon Meilleur Ami" or "My Best Friend".



(Is it just me or has Daniel Auteuil been in every French film ever made?)

There might be spoilers.

Daniel Auteuil plays François Coste, a successful antiques dealer. He is an unlikeable man, so wrapped up in his work that he has barely any time for personal or romantic relationships. After some strained comments at his birthday dinner, François' business partner Catherine (Julie Gayet) points out that François does not have any friends, a charge he denies vehemently. Catherine then bets François that he could not introduce her to a single person who would call themselves one of his "best friends" within 10 days. With the help of a friendly, trivia obsessed taxi driver Bruno (Dany Boon), François sets out to do just that.

"Mon Meilleur Ami" is a slight film, and I liked it well enough, but the trailer lies. The trailer presents "Mon Meilleur Ami" as a farcical French comedy, but it is hardly that at all. "Mon Meilleur Ami" is really a little bittersweet drama/comedy. In fact, more bittersweet drama than comedy. Low key and thoughtful. It is about what happens when a man, who is absolutely sure of himself and his place in the world, finds that world disintegrating when he starts to study it very closely.

As I said, it is a slight film, but Daniel Auteuil is good and so is Dany Boon. If the ending is corny (and inaccurate - does "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" go out live in France, because it certainly doesn't in the UK?) and obviously formulated to be uplifting, well that's OK. You will be rooting for the right person at the end.

... I was going to write about Saturday evening and the horror of Eurovision, but I have been waylaid. Lorraine asked me to proofread a disciplinary letter she has written to the personnel department, and I have ended up rewriting the whole thing for her. It took time.

Back tomorrow.

Labels: Movies, Television

I said to somebody at work yesterday that we were either going to win Eurovision, or we were going to come last.

19 points.

Second from last.

Nearly right.

Absolutely dreadful. Loved it!

Labels: Music

At the bus stop this morning Red turned up with a man. The two of them were obviously a couple. I could tell from the body language. Red sat with her back to the road, legs slightly apart, while he leaned in towards her. They were intent on each other, but she is a nice girl and nodded "hello" to me.

Red wore black pumps, blue pinstripe trousers, white frilly blouse, some kind of red checked waistcoat, purple jacket and white beads. Her hair was tied back with elastic bands in a ponytail. She was carrying a big funky brown bag, attached to which was a keyring with the name "Jenny" written on it.

(Ah... Watson. I deduct that her name is Jenny Red, then.)
(Ah... Holmes. You are such a twat.)

The fashionistas might have something to say about the colour coordination of the outfit, but knowing nothing about fashion I thought that Red looked a million dollars. A true transformation from how she presented herself before Wednesday, 13th September 2006. (Look up the date, if you are interested.)

Red has kept it up. She looked happy. Things can change.

My question is this.

Does the fact that I went out this morning, walked into a situation, thought it was interesting, decided that I wanted to remember everything (clothes, colours, etc.), mentally noted it, came back here hours later, sat down and wrote it all up, make me a voyeur?

I think the above little sketch was fairly innocent stuff, but I am becoming aware that I don't know when to stop. Do I, under the mask of anonymity, have the right to write about anything that I like? I'm not sure that I do. Would Red want me telling the world about her?

I'm not sure about this Blogging thing at all, anymore. Have I given away everything about myself (except for my real name, although some of you know what that is) for the sake of entertainment? Am I no better than someone like Kerry Katona or Elton John, who are always willing to talk about their latest drug/booze/sex addiction? Have they no shame? Don't they know what a private life is? Don't I know what a private life is? Don't I care about exposing other people's private lives to the world at large?

Lorraine would leave me tomorrow if she ever found out some of the things that I have written about her.

I just realised why I started the blog. I wanted to tell it how it is. How it is to me, at least. Anonymously. No comebacks. That is all ruined when you start to build personal relationships with people you have met over the Internet. At that point the mechanics of the blog changes. It becomes more of a message board. You start to have to deal with personal embaressment. Some of these people have met you and they know you.

Maybe I should never have started leaving comments on other blogs? Maybe I should never have reached out to people?

Confused post. Sorry.

It's a hurting time. Lorraine and I had our big chat a couple of nights ago. It has cleared the air, but it was a painful experience for both of us. I'm still trying to put together in my head exactly what was said, because I want it to be accurate when I finally write it up. It won't be tonight.

At work Lorraine has put her foot down with me, for my own good, and forced me to relinquish control of supporting the old product. After a handover tomorrow to the last of the programmers dealing with the old product (Hi there Gay Harry, of the luxurious moustache!), I will be dealing with the new product. She said that it will potentially secure my position during the uproar to come. She may well be right.

I think that Lorraine still cares.

Labels: Bloggers, Thoughts, Work

Yesterday, on a cold and miserable morning in Birmingham, Bill Smug (M.D. of The Company) called a meeting of all employees. The meeting was held in the big room outside of the canteen, where the gnomes of Web Support live. After a bit of faffing about it was announced to the expectant throng that The Company were going to merge with The Corporation.

There was a presentation. It was on a flipchart. Old school.

Phrases were bandied about like

"The opportunity to create a business synergy between our two compatible, but competing, business enterprises was an irresistible force too great to resist"

and

"We expect a phased, strategic rationalisation of merged company resources to take place over the next 9 months"

and, my particular favourite

"The expanded enterprise will gain from The Company's wildly successfull Software team on the Indian sub-continent, enabling it to bring new technological benefits to the customer's of The Corporation worldwide".

What's that again?

"wildly successfull Software team"??

Oh, fuck off, will you please?

There were other key phrases, but they gave me a headache when I tried to digest them. Anyway, by that point I was busy checking out the arse and the legs of some girl from accounts, who was standing about 3 feet away from me. She had on high heels, no tights or stockings, a purple skirt. That's as far as I got.

Smug answered questions.

"What's the new operation going to be called?"

"It's going to be called The Corporation."

"Not, The Company-Corporation?"

"No."

"So, it's a takeover and not a merger?"

"No... It's a takeover."

"So, why isn't The Company name going to be part of the new name."

"Er... That's just the way it is."

Ah... That's OK then.

"What about redundancies?"

"While we obviously cannot rule out redundancies, staff levels will need to be studied to make sure that we are competing..."

Blah, blah, blah. You can make the rest up for yourself, if you like.

"Why did they take us over and not us they them over?"

"They are more profitable than us, even though their product isn't as good!"

Of course. That makes sense.

It turns out that Bill Smug will be taking up a temporary position as Bagman Deputy M.D. with The Corporation during the merge takeover period. A party will be held, at some juncture, to celebrate his departure when it happens.

Party? WTF?

Takeovers. Mergers. Business corporate maneuvering. I am uninterested.

What's going to happen is going to happen with no input from me, and it might turn out to be a great thing for me (the almighty kick up the arse that I need?) or it might not (business as usual.). Lorraine has expressed the opinion that if The Corporation are a professional outfit, and it looks that way, the takeover might be a very good thing indeed, with a cull of middle management most definitely on the cards. There has already been one high profile scalp and that is the Finance Director of The Company, who will not be joining The Corporation in any context. Shame that. I have spoken to that guy on a number of occasions and he seemed a very decent, straight kind of guy.

I'll wait and see. What else is there to do? One guy has already said to me that he will be praying to be kicked out so that he can enjoy the payoff. He advised me to do the same.

As if I would do anything else.

Labels: The Company, The Corporation

Sometimes Mr. Albarn and the boys express things much better than I could ever do.

"Bank Holiday"

Grandma has got new dentures
To eat the crust of pizza
Bee taken out by daughter
Because she thought she ought'a
The kids are eating snickers
Because they're so delicious
Then there's sticky fingers
And mother looses her knickers

[Chorus]

Bank holiday comes six times a year
Days of enjoyment to which everyone cheers
Bank holiday comes with six pack a beer...
Then it's back to work A.G.A.I.N.

Bar-b-que is cooking
Sausages and chicken
The patio is Buzzing
The neighbours they are looking
John is down the fun pub
Drinking lots of lager
Girls and boys are on the game
All the high streets look the same

[Chorus]

Back to work A.G.A.I.N.

[chorus]

Bank holiday

Somebody has knocked up a video for it on You Tube, here.

It's a Bank Holiday and I have no inclination to leave the house.

Today I rose at 8:30 and had some breakfast. It was some mix of apple and cornflakes from M&S, but probably not all that healthy.

From 9:10 we watched a classic film "Network" on one of the themed Sky Movie channels. (Sky Classics?) "Network" is a great film about the amorality of the television industry. Everybody should watch it at least one. Hilarious, bitter, satirical and incisive. A vision of the future? Brilliant film. Peter Finch won a posthumous Oscar for that one.

When "Network" had finished, I had a shower, did the washing up, cooked some sausages, which we ate on sesame seed rolls, and sat down to watch "The Great Race" starring Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis and Natalie Wood.

Tony Curtis as the white suited, teeth sparkling, buff handsome hero. Jack Lemmon as the black clad, moustache twirling cad of a villain. A particularly fit looking Natalie Wood as the proto-feminist, plucky reporter who, of course, eventually falls in love with Tony Curtis. (Didn't all girls want to do that in 1965?) "The Great Race" is as daft as they come, but a joy from start to end.

I sat on my arse a bit longer and then came up here to sit on my arse in front of the computer.

Lorraine has said that I should go out to the cinema. She said I would enjoy it. There are a few films that I would like to see ("Next", "The Painted Veil", "Bridge To Terabithia", "The Upside Of Anger"), but I do not have the energy.

I think Lorraine just wants me out of the house. I think my misery is getting her down, but it is getting me down as well.

By the way, the visit to Sister 3 for lunch yesterday went well. Lorraine said that Sister 3 made her welcome (and why wouldn't she?). The food was good. My family were loud. We are always loud when we get together. The day went by quickly. Lorraine and I were the last to leave. It was a nice visit.

When we got home we rented "Mission: Impossible III" for 1 pence on Virgin Media's Movies On Demand service. A bargain. I had seen it before and enjoyed it (except for that terrible, terrible happy, clappy ending) and Lorraine seemed to enjoy it as well. She said it was what the "Mission: Impossible" movies should have been from the start. Couldn't agree more. I have written before about my hatred of the first two "Mission: Impossible" movies. I won't go into that again now.

I have had brief words with Lorraine. She said that today is a day of rest and that she just wants to stay in the house and do nothing. I said not to sweat it, and that I am well aware she doesn't want to do anything with me, inside or outside of the house.

She responded by slamming the living room door. I think she is watching the TV now.

So... I just don't know what to do with myself.

Hang on. Is that a song I can feel coming on?

Labels: Lorraine, Movies

You will have to excuse me. Drink has definitely got the better of me. (Nearly a whole bottle of M&S Macon Villages 2005, if any anybody is even in the slightest interested. Lorraine didn't like it.)

Since the last post I have cooked steak and stir fry, with a chilli and ginger sauce, I have watched "Doctor Who" (a good episode, but not as good as the trailer for the next story in two weeks), I have watched "Final Destination 3" which I really enjoyed (and no doubt will do my reputation - do I have one? - as a film fan, no good at all), I have asked Lorraine if she would like to go to bed with me (turned down, obviously, with the excuse this time that I am pissed out of my head, which is not far wrong, if I am honest), I have eaten a banana and drank some water, I have booted up the computer and attached to the computer, I have ordered the latest book in the Independent Banned Books series, I have cancelled my order from CD 101 for the Bangles first album "All Over The Place" (the fuckers have kept me waiting for two months, which is a good six weeks two long, thank you very much), and now I am here, trying to think of things to write.

(Thinking... I am very pissed. I think I have mentioned that.)

I know. How about I wish I had a girlfriend who wanted to have sex with me? How about I wonder why I/she hangs around? How about I wish I had a different job? How about I wish I didn't feel so useless? How about it would be a lie if I said I wish I had more friends, because I kind of like my isolation from real life, but I really appreciate and yes, love, the friends I have met through the Internet like (in no particular order) Suburban Hen, Mark, Graham, Stef, Katy, Daisy, LB, Swiss Toni, Ginny, Doug (if I have forgotten anybody during this rant, I do sincerely apologize). How about at the age of 43 I wonder if I am going to get to 44 with my mind intact? How about I have

This is my favourite single of all time. (Sorry Mark. I know you hate the fab four.) When I went to see the Bootleg Beatles, a couple of years ago, they played this and I burst into tears. Music is mad, isn't it?



And this was the B-side.



What a band!

And ain't I just pathetic?

Labels: Stress

With barely any effort whatsoever, actually, yer Pynchon has managed to obtain two tickets for the Stones at the O2 stadium at the end of August. It has cost an arm and a leg, but to say I am excited would be a definite understatement. The Stones are one of those bands that I have never seen live that I have always really wanted to see. It has just occurred to me that by the end of August I will have seen at least one member of the five greatest bands of the sixties playing live.

You know who they are.

The Beatles. (I have seen Macca twice.)
The Rolling Stones. (Roll on August.)
The Who. (The week after next I will have seen them 6 times.)
The Kinks. (I have seen Ray Davies live.)
The Small Faces. (Ian McLagen is Rod Stewart's musical director and plays keyboards in his band. Also, and I'm sure you know this, the first Small Faces album cut post Steve Marriott's departure features Rod Stewart on lead vocals. I have seen Rod Stewart and Ian McLagen live. Ergo, case proven.)

Call me a smug git. I don't care.

What was that? You bought two tickets, you say?

Yes I have. After thinking about it overnight, Lorraine said that she would like to see the Stones with me. A bit of a surprise, it must be said, although whether she actually chooses the trip over work remains to be seen. I hope she does. The gig is on the Sunday before the August Bank Holiday, so I have suggested that we go down on the Saturday, see something in the West End on that day, go to the gig on the Sunday, see something else in the West End on the Monday and then go home on the Tuesday.

Lorraine is not sure. She says I am rushing her.

Pain in the arse. There is holiday time to be booked at work, especially since we are losing staff left, right and centre, it might be difficult to get the time off. Hotel to be booked. Transport arrangements to be made.

Am I rushing things? I don't think that I am.

(By the way, none of this will make any difference to my plans for a West End trip before that. I intend to go as soon as funds are available.)

Today I went to see Shane Meadows new film, "This Is England".



I blow hot and cold on Shane Meadows. I thought that "TwentyFourSeven" was boring. I thought that "A Room For Romeo Brass" was amazing. I thought that "Once Upon A Time In The Midlands" was not what it could have been and relied too much on the gimmick casting of too many well known British character actors. I thought that "Dead Man's Shoes" was a masterpiece.

And so to "This Is England".

In 1983 a lonely bullied young boy Shaun, who's Father has been killed in the previous years' Falklands conflict, makes friends with a group of skinheads. They are not cliched skinheads. In the main they are nice, decent and even kind people. Shaun is made welcome. The group become a surrogate family to him. When a tough, racist, hardcore skinhead called Combo gets out of prison and reintroduces himself to the group, Shaun finds a Father Figure and the family starts to splinter.

Labels: Lorraine, Movies, Music, Theatre

A couple of days ago I finally finished reading "Fast Food Nation" by Eric Schlosser. From the cows in the field to the slaughterhouses to the smiling (or scowling - a special Hi there! to the employees at Burger King in Martineau Square, Birmingham) staff serving you the crap at your local McDonalds/Burger King/Kentucky Fried Chicken . Shocking stuff, it must be said. Much more shocking than the movie "Super Size Me", because I thought the argument of that movie was pretty bloody obvious unless you were retarded. If you eat nothing but McDonalds food constantly for 30 days obviously you would make yourself ill. Everybody knows that, don't they?

No?

Oh dear. The human race is fucked then.

Even after reading "Fast Food Nation" I don't think I could ever become a vegetarian. I like meat, but from now on I will endeavour to eat a better quality of meat. I have stopped eating the ground up, dodgy meat slop that they constantly serve up in The Company canteen. No more burgers, chilli, bolognaise, etc. It's shit and I've always known it.

Lecture over. I'm not on a mission to save to world, but I don't intend to go into a burger joint ever again. Not lovin' it.

(The movie adaptation of "Fast Food Nation" starts in the UK today on limited release, but sadly not in Birmingham. I think the MAC has it in June.)

I am now reading something lighter. "Equal Rites" by Terry Pratchett, which is the 3rd in the "Discworld" series. Very good, so far, but it is early days yet. This year I intend every 3rd book that I read to be a "Discworld" novel. We have 11 of the buggers on the shelf and Lorraine has read 10 of them. The one she hasn't read is "Hogfather", but that is only because it is number 21 in the series and she hasn't read the first 20 yet.

Lorraine and I have voted. She claims she voted Green Party, but I think she is a closet Liberal Democrat. Me? I voted Labour, to keep the Tory scum out.

Forgive me.

Labels: Politics, Reading

My Niece was 10 years old today. She was one of the first babies born in Birmingham during the couple of hours after New Labour won the election in 1997.

Sister 1 told me that one of her first visitors, in the early hours, was a reporter desperate to find a new Mom willing to call her new little girl "Cherie". Sister 1 was offered money. Sister 1 told the reporter to "Bugger Off". My Niece was named after her two Grandmothers'. If my Niece had been a Nephew, he would have been named after his two Grandfathers'. The Pynchon's are always named after previous family members. I am named after my two Grandfathers', my Brother is named after my Dad's Uncle and my Dad's younger Brother, and so on and so forth.

Great night. Happy times. My Brother and I stayed up all night drinking, watching the election results roll in. We saw David Mellor and Michael Portillo lose their seats. Sweet revenge. Fucking Tories. At 4am we got the phone call that we were now Uncles.

The pair of us had nuclear hangovers the next day.

Later, having sobered up, my Brother and I were just leaving the house to go to the hospital when a taxi drew up and Lorraine got out. It was unexpected. That morning she had been in Nottingham, while I was in Birmingham. At least that's what I thought.

Lorraine was wearing a yellow dress and she looked beautiful. She said that she wanted to be there when I met my Niece, and she was.

Later Lorraine and I went back to Nottingham and to her bed.

The sun was shining and the future was unwritten.

Labels: Family, Lorraine

I've asked Lorraine if she would like to go to London to see something in the West End. She said that she didn't have the time, blah, blah, blah, and that I should go by myself. Bit scary, that. I don't think I have ever been around the smoke on my own before. I've always had Lorraine with me.

But I'm going to do it. Don't know when, but probably next month when I have a bit more money. It's an adventure, kids.

I've added links to the last couple of posts. I would have done it last night, but my headache defeated me and I had to go bed. It didn't help. I woke up with the same headache.

I've been listening to a lot of music by these wastrels. Once upon a time they were the greatest looking band in the world. Maybe I'll make the effort, spend a ridiculous amount of money, and finally go to see them this year?

40 years and a few months ago, these two songs were their new double A sided single. Classics. Enjoy.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Music, Theatre