Pynchon

Yesterday, for about 20 seconds, I met up with the blogger previously known as Graham. I was on the number 1 bus, getting up to get off and Graham had just got on. He looked and sounded good. Not blogging anymore, and that is a crying shame, but I suppose you have to do what you have to do.

Just thought I would mention that.

********

I have seen another two movies over the weekend. This makes it four movies I have not written about at all. The situation is unacceptable and will lead to a schism in the fabric of space/time, and a dangerous alternative future, unless I do something about it.

How about one review tonight and the rest over the week?

I will take your silence as meaning that this is acceptable.

"All The Boys Love Mandy Lane".



I approached seeing "All The Boys Love Mandy Lane" with caution. I had heard a rumour that the Protection Of Punters From Horror Movie Cliche's fast response squad (a subdivision of the Committee For Protection Against All Hollywood Movie Cliches) were sweeping UK cinemas and arresting anybody caught watching bad movies about good looking teens being slaughtered by evil forces unknown in remote and eerie locations. The punishment, I heard, was 30 years hard labour watching Martin Lawrence comedies.

I was OK. The squad didn't catch me. Anyway, despite being based on well worn movie cliches, "All The Boys Love Mandy Lane" was really rather good, not a bad movie at all, so the squad would have been forced to let me go.

My interest in a film like this lives and dies on outside of what is going regarding the horror content. Horror is boring in and of itself. Luckily there is plenty of other stuff going on in "All The Boys Love Mandy Lane".

"All The Boys Love Mandy Lane" boasts really great, stunning cinematography. Just beautiful work, dreamy and atmospheric, utilising all sorts of time lapse effects and film stock. I think the work is as as good as anything you might see in a serious art house film. "All The Boys Love Mandy Lane" also has a really good soundtrack of melancholy pop music, culminating in a song that everybody knows: One of the creepiest pop songs of all time. (You will know what it is. It is in the trailer.) There are good performances and an inventive script, touching on interesting issues such as sexual attraction, jealousy, the school hierarchy, peer pressure and rivalry and the problems of the modern body image.

Hey! Don't worry! The filmmakers do not forget that "All The Boys Love Mandy Lane" is supposed to be a horror movie. Add to all of the above some particularly bloody, hands-over-your-eyes, murders.

The eventual identity of the killer was no surprise to me, but that is just the way it goes. I have seen a lot of movies. Suffice to say that "All The Boys Love Mandy Lane" is a superior horror film. One of the best I have seen in years.

Labels: Bloggers, Movies

My word, Hen and LB's wedding reception must have been a mighty fine event. I have just had a quick swing around the blogs of the people who I know that attended and absolutely nobody has posted a word about it, as of yet. I suppose everybody is still recovering (I could have screamed when Lorraine turned on the light in the hotel room, this morning) and/or travelling home.

No doubt there will be a million photos to come. (None taken by me, by the way. It's not anything I have ever gotten into.) I will add links to those pictures when they turn up, because a picture is worth a thousand words. In lieu of that let me say that Lorraine and I had a great and fine time. It was lovely to meet up with Stef and Sherry, Mark and Ellen and Mr. X, Tim (the troubles of the 11th track, eh?) and C (really nice cakes, seriously) and, of course, Hen and LB and Maddie. (Very weird seeing Maddie running around as a real life person. I've only ever seen her in pictures before now.)

We were chuffed to be invited. It was just a shame that we had to leave around 11pm. The reasons for that were mainly due to a too early start from Birmingham for us, too much drinking (by me) during the day to nullify the effects of a fraught couple of hours at Lorraine's rich friend Dolores' house (I may go into that tomorrow), and Lorraine developing a major headache. Shame. I was just building up to doing "Dock Of The Bay" on the karaoke (Lorraine's favourite song). It would have left the room in tears. Actually the room was in tears quite a few times, with some of the renditions on offer. ("The Greatest Love Of All"??? Shame on you, Sir.)

Anyway, Lorraine and I wish all of the happiness in the world to Hen and LB. Thanks for inviting us to share in a little bit of it.

Labels: Bloggers, Socialising

Graham said an interesting thing last night. Actually, Graham says a lot of interesting things, but this particularly struck home.

We were talking about blogging, material and what happens when a blogger runs out of material. Every day cannot be interesting. Sometimes the days are boring and repetitive and nothing happens. Graham said that by now he is acutely aware somebody is reading his blog, and feels an obligation to put something on it every day, whether there is something to say or not. He often does this by putting up a memememe. Easy, peasy. A list of questions. You answer them. You elaborate. Soon you have a post.

To me that sounds awfully familiar. I often put up jokes or music clips from You Tube to fill the space. I suppose that like Graham I don't want to disappoint my fans with nothing.

(Fans? The arrogance... Fans? Ha, ha, ha! You are an utter wanker, John.)

Sure am. It is one of my good points.

Perhaps it was easier to post when nobody was reading? We can all write the most controversial, personal, intensely raw stuff when we are unknown, but can you really do that when you might meet somebody in the flesh who has read that stuff and knows you?

Bollocks. I will try to write like nobody is reading. I think it is the more interesting way. (Ain't I just the maverick? Call me Steve McQueen. In fact, if I ever have to disappear again, my handle might be McQueen.)

On this occasion there is material, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I am incredibly tired. Jaw droppingly tired. A lot of reasons for this, but partly down to a good night out, last night, with Graham watching the mighty INXS at the Symphony Hall (and thanks for perservering in getting in touch with me, mate) and a long time in getting to sleep when I finally got home. I also saw "Ne Le Dis à Personne" at the weekend, which deserves a bit of a clear headed write up. I also want to add links to this and the last post.

Yours, yawningly, back tomorrow.

Labels: Bloggers, Thoughts

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

I cannot read any blogs whatsoever. To be accurate, I cannot read anything ending .blogspot.com.

Having just had most of a bottle of Blossom Hill, I'm probably not in the best mood to write anything anyway, but this is hardly the point.

Labels: Bloggers, Computers

Let me try this again. I'll be brief. The moment has passed somewhat.

Tuesday afternoon I met up with Graham for a drink.

Graham is a very nice guy and we had a very nice chat. As it happened it was quite a brief chat (an hour and a bit), because I had a gig to go to, but more about that in a minute. Graham and I talked about this and that and the other. It's worth noting that Graham still holds the opinion that "Moonraker" is a better movie than "The Spy Who Loved Me". Of course this is patently ridiculous, but he is a boy compared to me, so I blessed him, kissed him on the forehead, and forgave him (and also admitted that, perhaps, "The Spy Who Loved Me" is not quite as good as I remembered it, because I watched it over Christmas and found it "slow".)

It was the third time I had met Graham. The first time was about 18 months ago. The second time was a couple of weeks ago when we were part of the group of Bloggers that went to the "Game On" event at the Science Museum in London. My overwhelming impression of that first occasion was that I talked an awful lot. Jesus Christ, I just went on and on. An opinion on every subject under the sun was expressed, regardless of whether I knew anything about the subject or not. Why? I think I wanted to show how clever I was and I was showing off. This time I didn't talk so much and it was way better. I'm finding now that with somebody that I know, and I hope that by now I know Graham quite well, I don't have to show off.

After the drink I went to see the Fratellis at the Carling Academy.



Ah... The two F's. Fucking fantastic. I came out of the gig with a big smile on my face and I cannot remember the last time I did that. A really great gig. A really great party, more like.

Good support band, The Enemy. Most support bands are so polite that I hardly ever notice them. They arrive onstage. They play their songs. They shyly talk to the audience. They mention that their new single is out and suggest that we might like to buy it.

The Enemy? None of that. They swagger on, they plug in and say

"Fookin' Birmingham. Are you here to party?"

and then they literally blasted through their set.

I thought that they were great. Really punk. Quite a bit of Liam Gallagher swagger, truth be told, and the audience loved them. (Ah, the audience. I think that most of them were probably born around the time that Oasis were first troubling the charts, which would make me about 30 years older than most of them. Gulp.)

Then a short break and the Fratellis were up.

Big energy, great tunes, great fun. A mix of indie, glam rock and power pop. I don't know what the fuck you would call it, but it was brilliant. Best gig I've been to for ages. You know what it's like when you go to a gig and you can feel it because the power hits you in the chest? It was like that.

Rather good. Here's the "Chelsea Dagger" video. Rock and Roll and pretty girls. Who can ask for more?



I think I'm getting tired. I'll write what I thought of "Blood Diamond" tomorrow.

Labels: Bloggers, Gigs, Music

I am feeling better today, but I'm not writing. Back tomorrow. Mr. Graham and the Fratellis deserve a bit more than a couple of lines of drivel and I know that if I try to write anything tonight, it will turn out to be drivel.

By the way, if you're reading, fuck you Mr. Murdoch.

Ciao.

Labels: Bloggers, Music, Television