Pynchon

It is very easy to slip into shitness. This weekend I have drank red wine, lager, bitter, Guinness and, oh yes, some very nice Spyder (non alcoholic) ginger beer. Bananas and cornflakes and water have kept the hangover at bay and, touch wood, it is still working. I have scared my Mom, because she is not used to her beloved eldest son ringing her up drunk, and I have scared Lorraine, because she is not used to the man who shares the house with her leaving said house without having a shave or a wash, or pulling down his trousers, pointing at his cock and saying, "Remember this? You haven't seen it for a while".

I have seen two movies: "The Diving Bell And The Butterfly" (which was great) and "Definitely, Maybe" (that should have been shit, but wasn't). Thank God for movies. I love them. I would die without them.

I will be watching the Bafta's in an hour. For what it is worth I think that "Atonement" will win Best Film, Daniel Day-Lewis Best Actor and Julie Christie Best Actress. British judging bias, and why not? I tried to put a bet on those earlier, but had difficulties. In preparation I have printed off the list of the Oscar nominations and am finding it very difficult to decide what will win, but probably Daniel Day-Lewis and Julie Christie have the same two major acting awards locked.

I have bought Lorraine flowers. She loves them.

I will get over myself.

Labels: Bad Day, Drinking

Sometimes you just have to get on with living a life rather than writing about living a life.

So...

1. Shopping.
2. Cleaning.
3. Feeding the birds in my back garden.
4. Spending money that I do not have. (Tickets for The Pigeon Detectives at the Carling Academy, Portishead at Wolverhampton Civic Hall, Goldfrapp at the Symphony Hall, Boston's first album, Portishead's live album, newspapers and magazines).
5. Movies. ("The Savages", "In The Valley Of Elah" and loads and loads of movies on the TV. I will write a couple of little reviews of "The Savages" and "In The Valley Of Elah", probably tomorrow.)
6. Fighting with Lorraine.
7. Making up with Lorraine. (Not a code for having sex with Lorraine, because I do not bother to ask anymore. Why bother when I know what the answer is going to be?)
8. Complaining about the heat.
9. Complaining about the cold.
10. Dozing off.
11. Waking up again.
12. Getting drunk.
13. Regretting getting drunk.

I also found out that Sister 3 has had a scan and baby is A-OK. My Brother has vowed never to speak to Sister 3 again, because he has just found out that the baby is going to be half west indian. My reaction? So fucking what?

The situation with John Rodent has progressed, somewhat. It is all down to Lorraine and the steps she took on Friday. I will write about that next time.

I am tired.

Labels: Arguments, Drinking, Lorraine, Movies

Sometimes I do things that I know will hurt me. But still I go ahead and do them.

No, it's nothing as crass as cutting my arms or any other such act of self body mutilation, so that I can feel something. I have no problem with feeling. If anything I feel too much. (Bit of a Sylvia Plath moment there, eh, John? Or maybe I should call you Morrissey, circa 1985.). It is all to do with what I put into myself. Too much food. Too much drink.

Ah... Drink.

On Friday evening, during a very pleasant visit to Lorraine's ex boss Bobby Blue and his lovely missus Lana-with-the-turquoise-eyes to coo over their new baby, I was asked by Bobby if I would like a drink. Lana piped up with the choices. Coca-cola, water, orange juice, tea, coffee, wine or a beer.

Sir... That would be a beer then.

I was handed a Groschl. I do not get on well with Groschl. I'm not sure what the alcohol content is, but every time I have a Groschl I suffer from a bad head the next day. A really bad head. I have avoided Groschl since I discovered that little fact.

Groschl was the only beer on offer.

Now, honestly, I wasn't really thinking about alcohol. I wouldn't have minded having a cup of tea. I like tea. But it seems that whenever alcohol is put in front of me in a social situation, I have to have it. I think, I think that if I don't have any, I am missing out.

I did have a Groschl. I had more than one. I was a happy camper. I was on form. Lorraine and I had a great time, although she didn't drink any alcohol at all.

We looked at the baby. The baby looked back at us, but otherwise he didn't do a lot else. We swapped gossip. Bobby was funny. Lana was beautiful, if a bit podgy (says He of the not-quite-Brad-Pitt-like-figure), but that's what a baby does to you and, anyway, I have never been one to think that a lady carrying a few extra pounds is mutually exclusive to her being beautiful. Bobby, who didn't touch a drop of alcohol, was good enough to drop us home. It was a good night and it did Lorraine the world of good.

(Lorraine has said to me recently that she feels isolated. Some of it is my fault and I know it. You see, I really couldn't give a toss about keeping in touch with people, or spending time with people (other than via this weird Internet thing) but Lorraine does. When she lived in Bristol and Haywards Heath, she had a wide circle of friends. All gone now. I do not organise social events. Never have done. Maybe long ago, when I was a little boy, I tried to organise something and nobody turned up. Maybe I was scarred for life by the experience. I don't know.

I do not keep in touch with people from work. I have no idea what any of my schoolmates are doing. I was on Friends Reunited for a while, but deleted all of entries about myself when I started getting emails from people I hadn't seen in years. Why were these people bothering me? Maybe they should fuck off and leave me alone.

I do accept invitations, sometimes, but I always fret about accepting them. Often Lorraine has to talk me into going somewhere. I am going to a do in a couple of weeks, which I am sure is going to be great, but I had to be talked into going by Lorraine. I nearly made excuses.

Maybe I am just a miserable bastard. Or a recluse. I don't know. Are there any psychiatrists out there who would like to analyse me? Ah... Go fuck yourselves. I'm not going to let you.

I have told Lorraine that she should keep in touch with people. That she should bring people around the house, if she wants, but quite rightly she knows that I would be pleasant and accommodating until the moment I went to hide in my room or the back room. When we go to Nottingham, we are going early so that she can spend some time with her millionaire buddy Dolores Rat, vile creature that she is. I will hold my tongue and I will be nice, for at least a couple of hours.)

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was ill the next day (yesterday). Major hangover. Nearly all day. Wrecked any plans that I might have had to see two films this weekend. If I knew the Latin for the phrase "I told you so", I would write it just ... about ... here. But I don't, so I won't.

It has been a better day today. I went to see "Atonement", which I thought was terrific, but I will write about that tomorrow as I need to take the roast out of the oven. It's lamb. I can smell it.

Yum.

Labels: Drinking, Lorraine, Socialising, Thoughts

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

Re-reading my last post I think that I gave the impression that I am drunk constantly. Not exactly true. I rarely drink any alcohol during the week and don't normally do too much of it at the weekend. Frankly I don't know what came over me last weekend. The special occasion of going out with Lorraine for the evening? The urge to show off with my family? The intention to drink my Brother under the table?

Stupid and ridiculous.

I have a mememe. Stolen from lots of places. (Frankly I have nothing much else to write.)

1. Do you still talk to the person you LAST kissed? Yes, I do. I kissed my Niece, or to be more accurate, my Niece gave me a kiss on the cheek. It's her birthday next week (she will be 10) and she called me up yesterday to say that she would like as a present the first book written by Katie Price/Jordan, "Being Jordan" (WTF?) and some money.

2. Have you ever seen your best friends cry? Yes. I have seen Lorraine cry, but other best friends? What best friends? Don't be ridiculous.

3. What kind of vitamins did you take as a kid? Nothing whatsoever, as far as I can recall.

4. What is the last thing you ate? Gammon, egg and chips. Not a healthy choice, but it was Lorraine's idea, so at least I can blame her.

5. Did you get any compliments today? Actually, yes I did. From Lorraine. It was at my official work appraisal. She said that I have done a really good job on supporting the old product by myself, the proof of the pudding being that I was practically the only person in the Support Section that has not been complained about by the customers. Yes, surprised me as well.

6. Have you ever gone to court? No.

7. There was no number 7 on the original mememe, so I suppose I had better make a question up. How about, what was your first memory? My 7th birthday party. There was a cake. There were balloons. There were a million adults getting pissed. I think there was also a fight between uncles. Ah... Great times.

8. Are you friends with your neighbours? Mr. Rasta and his missus Gillian are very nice people and the foxy Keren is... foxy, but friends? Not really. They keep to themselves and so do we.

9. No question number 9. I'll make up one. Who would be your celebrity girlfriend/boyfriend? Kate Winslet. 8 years now and going strong. (Since "Holy Smoke".)



10. What language does your mum speak? English.

11. Where have you lived throughout your life? Birmingham, Leicester, Nottingham.

12. What's the last piercings you got? I haven't got any piercings.

13. When was the last time you drove more than 15 minutes? Drove myself? Early 90's. Was driven? Today. We had a lift home.

14. Do you get distracted easily? Completely. I cannot concentrate on anything lately.

15. Have you ever thrown up/passed out from drinking? Thrown up, yes. Passed out, no.

16. How many times have you drank alcohol? Must be thousands of times.

17. No question 17. So, should Al Gore run? Yes, he should. I think he would make a difference.

18. Have you ever played Spin the Bottle? No.

19. Have you ever toilet papered someones house? No, but my Brother once painted somebody's windows red in the middle of the night, because they called my Mom a whore.

20. Have you ever had a crush on your Sister's/Brother's friend? My Brother has known many a fine wench and I have fancied all of them.

21. Have you ever gone to a beach? I have.

22. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Never.

23. Do you remember your music teacher's names? Mrs. Smith. Cannot remember any of the others.

24. How good is your eyesight? I need glasses for close reading and computer work, but I read a newspaper on the bus without them.

25. Have you ever gone to a party? I have.

26. Would you ever swim with the sharks? I cannot swim, so I would probably drown and the sharks would eat me. So, no.

27. What would you say if I told you I was in love with your bro? Good luck.

28. Have you ever been out of your country? U.S.A., France, Italy, North Africa, other places.

29. Have you seen your best friend naked? I have seen Lorraine sans clothes, but not recently.

30. What's the best wedding you've been to? My Boss at the Chemical Company. Loads of money spent. He hired an opera singer to perform at the Church and she was fantastic. Brilliant disco, brilliant food (his missus' son was a high class chef). Total class the whole day/night.

31. Would your parents be mad if you got suspended for fighting? My Mom, yes. My Dad would have asked me if I left them standing, and if I'd said yes, he would have been mad.

32. Where are your siblings right now? Sister 1, probably gone to bed. Sister 2, watching TV. Sister 3, probably with a man doing whatever she likes to do. Brother, on the computer talking to one of his ladies.

33. Do you have a Coach, Fendi or Louis Vuitton purse? Sadly I do not know what such items are, but I do have a mighty fine selection of Ben Sherman T-shirts.

34. What's the last dream you can remember? I was out with Lorraine's Brother in law, something happened and I lost all of my money. I blamed the cunt with a passion.

35. Who was the last person that called you? My Niece. See 1.

36. What time did you wake up this morning? 5:45.

37. What did you do this weekend? Read the blog. It's all there.

38. What does the 4th text message on your phone say? Text message? I've not turned the phone on in weeks. (Note that it is the phone and not my phone. We share it.)

39. No question 39. Name one famous person who died too young. Buddy Holly, for obvious reasons. He was just getting started. The history of popular music would have been very different, if he had lived.



40. When was the last time you were sick and where was it? A few weeks ago at Sister 1's. Vomiting, shitting (without going to the toilet), stomach cramps. Shall I go on? No. I still have no idea what caused it.

41. Who's the last celebrity you touched? I think that it may have been the actor David Warner who was signing autographs at a Memorabilia Fair at the NEC. He signed my copy of "Sympathy For The Devil", which was part of the "Unbound" series of alternate Doctor Who audio adventures. A different actor played The Doctor in each story and Mr. Warner was one of them. (Others included Geoffrey Bayldon, David Collings, Michael Jayston, Derek Jacobi and... gulp... Arabella Weir. It is very good series, by the way.) I shook Mr. Warner's hand. He was a very nice man.

42. What's in your back pocket? I am wearing joggers which do not have a back pocket.

43. When was the last time you smoked a cigg? I smoked until the early 80's and then stopped. Never regretted it.

44. Do you want to be pregnant right now? I wouldn't have thought so. It would probably ruin my Godlike physique.

45. Do you wear coloured contacts? No.

46. Another missing question. Name an unusual identifying physical characteristic which is yours and yours alone? All of the Pynchon men have the same rare fingerprint on the finger next to the little finger on both hands. It is called a plain whorl and looks it like this.



My Dad had it, I have it, so does my Brother and so does my nephew.

47. What were you doing at 4am this morning? Sleeping.

48. What do you usually do first in the morning? Turn the alarm off.

49. Do you know anybody in the Army? No.

50. What are you going to do after this? I may work on an alternate Beatles timeline on Other Timelines. Or I may go to bed.

Labels: Drinking, Mememe

Bit hung over this morning. Still feeling tired now. I should really go to bed, but I wanted to have a quick surf and post. Last night we went to see "Das Leben der Anderen" and The Electric Cinema Film Orchestra at the Electric Cinema. It was a good night out, and a fair bit of alcohol was ingested by me, but I was happily tipsy and not an angry drunk. Lorraine drank water. I will write about our night out tomorrow.

Although it was a relatively late night for the pair of us, it didn't stop Lorraine from rising at some obscene hour of the morning to go to work to help re-cable the office. Is it her responsibility to do such stuff? No, of course not, but she said that she wanted to make sure it was done properly as she cannot trust the technical clowns to do it right.

So, my day...

I rose late, nursed my head, cleaned the house, went out, did some grocery shopping, came home, had a bath while listening to my MP3 play on random (first song was "Comfortably Numb" by the Pink Floyd, which I thought was quite appropriate), watched "Doctor Who" (both Lorraine and myself think that the Daleks are being a bit overused), watched "Any Dream Will Do", waved goodbye to Lorraine who decided to go to bed and then finally watched "House Of Sand And Fog" starring Ben Kingsley and Jennifer Connolly, which is a really brilliant and dramatic movie and a fine piece of work.

I probably could have fitted a film in somewhere, but nothing I haven't seen strikes me as an essential view at the moment. I may see a film tomorrow, but it is 50-50. It is my Mom's Birthday (she will be 72) and the Pynchon posse (and Lorraine) will be causing mischief at a steak and chips shit hole somewhere in the West Midlands. I may not want to see a film.

Better go to bed.

Labels: Drinking, Gigs, Lorraine, Movies

No more drinking when Lorraine isn't here. Falling apart is wankerfied and not good.

Labels: Drinking

I am now able to read any .blogspot.com sites directly. Thank Christ for that. I was getting very pissed off. I don't do Internet isolation very well.

On the Blogger Help Group message board a very nice man let me know a work around which worked a treat. If you are finding that you are getting 'page cannot be displayed' messages when trying to read a blog, try to read the blog via this link. It should display with no problems. I would imagine that it is a very useful little link for getting around blogs that are blocked by Company firewalls, as well. Hmm...

After that I spoke to a very nice man on the Virgin Media help desk who thanked me for bringing the problem to their attention. He promised that he would get somebody to look into the problem as soon as possible and also gave me another useful little link here which allowed me to access any blogs. That link also seems to work for any website that is blocked. Perhaps somebody would like to try it out at work? I'm going to.

That over... Hello. How are you?

I should have a hangover, but I don't. The miracle of bananas, water and cornflakes. I suppose you want to know how my fantastic Saturday and Sunday went? You don't? Couldn't give a shit. I'm going to tell you anyway.

Lorraine went away yesterday. She will be gone for a week. She is visiting her Cousin and then her Brother and his new set of twins. She booked her train seat for some ridiculous hour of the morning, so I was up at 6am to see her off. I felt a serious need to see her before she left. The taxi came at 6:30am, so we only had half an hour, but it was OK.

When she left I got a kiss. It was a fairly perfunctory kiss, to be honest, but it was still a kiss. Lorraine said that we would talk seriously when she got back and that she would call me to make sure I was OK.

I went back to bed, had a wank and fell asleep, stinking, for a couple of hours.

Got up, shit, shaved, showered and into town. It was still relatively early, so I caught the first showing of Nick Love's new film "Outlaw". (It's not the film I intended to see on Saturday. That film was going to be David Lynch's "Inland Empire", which for some unknown reason was only showing in London. Birmingham not sophisticated enough, perhaps? Bastards.)

Anyway, "Outlaw".



My Brother really rates Nick Love as a Director, but until yesterday I had never seen any of his films. It's not been a deliberate choice. Sometimes it's just the way that it goes. There is always an alternative film to go and see. I will say this about Nick Love. Like Shane Meadows before him, I like the idea of Nick Love. He is a a British director who makes particularly British films about British obsessions. The pressures to grow up and out of your friends, gangs, football hooligans, the costa del crime and, now, the impression of a breakdown of law and order on the streets of Britain, the corruption in the criminal justice system, and the wish for somebody to do something about it.

"Outlaw" is probably not a great film. It is way too a fragmentary and unfinished a piece of work to describe as a great film. I got the feeling that a lot of material had been left on the cutting room floor. Perhaps the inevitable DVD release will be a longer, more satisfying cut? But "Outlaw" is a good film, a striking film and not a film you will not forget it a hurry. Bitter, twisted, edgy and very morally ambiguous. It also looks wonderful. Dizziness inducing camera work, a limited colour palette, cold and hard and beautiful.

Look at the picture above. It's great isn't it? The guys look mean, moody and magnificent. A unit ready to kick ass. It's a misleading picture. These men are damaged in all sorts of ways.

A depressed and betrayed soldier.

A mugging victim.

An intelligent and educated man, whose family pays the price for his attempt to uphold the law.

A sad and misguided loner who wants to do the right thing. The one character with the potential to be the true, tough, uncompromising vigilante in the group, but an unpalatable man - racist, uneducated and a bigot. (It is a great performance by Sean Harris. The best in the film. He is rapidly becoming one of my favourite actors.)

And a man, scared by the violence in his dreams, who is confronted with bullying and violence in his real life.

It's a fascinating film. Better than the reviews would have you believe. I would like to see it again.

After "Outlaw" I did some shopping.

Food, some more comfort purchases ("The Best Of The Stranglers", "The Best Of Tori Amos", "The Best Of The Backstreet Boys", "The Best Of The Sugababes" and "Escapology" by Robbie Williams) and some porn DVD's. ("Busty Porn Babes" and "Cathy's Diaries Volume 8", both masterpieces of erotica, of course.)

I went home.

At home I had a wank to "Busty Porn Babes" (it didn't take long). Then I stuck my MP3 player into the set of small speakers Lorraine bought for me for Christmas, stuck the MP3 player on random play and listened to it while having a bath. This is what came up and the order.

"Freak Like Me", the Sugababes. ("It's all about the dark in me." I love that line.)
"Honey Come Back", Glen Campbell.
"Rock DJ", Robbie Williams.
"Sea Of Heartbreak", Johnny Cash.
"I Never Picked Cotton", Johnny Cash.
"Tiny Machine", the Darling Buds.
"Do It Clean", Echo & The Bunnymen.
"Indiana Wants Me", R. Dean Taylor.

(They say that on an atomic level there is no such thing as randomness. If that is true, then something we experience as random is only something we have not yet figured out the pattern for. What is the pattern for the above set of songs? There's got to be one.)

I got hungry. I cooked steak, eggs, mushrooms and onions. I also had two large rolls with butter and drank a whole bottle of Blossom Hill. I watched "Dancing On Ice" (the lovely, large breasted Emily Symons is out - she was not a very good skater, but it's still a disgrace) and "The Trial Of Tony Blair" (not nearly as controversial I thought it would be, but I still liked Alexander Armstrong's little bit as Conservative leader David Cameron getting down with the kids - what a tit).

After a bit on the computer, and eating bananas and cornflakes and drinking water, I had another wank, this time to "Cathy's Diaries Volume 8". 3 wanks in one day. Good lord! Am I a stud, or what? No wonder Lorraine doesn't want to sleep with me. She must be scared I would wear out her pussy.

Then I went to bed.

With dinner tonight I had another bottle of wine. I am mellow. I am scum. I am low. I am a cunt and I know it.

I will do Sunday tomorrow and add links, etc. "Sleeping Dogs". Mom. My Brother. My Brother's thoughts on Danny Dyer. "The Football Factory".

Labels: Computers, Drinking, Movies

I've just read my last post. I think that it was a tad incoherent and the kind of thing that a 14 year old boy would write, not a 43 year old man who should be using grown up language. I think that it is par for the course.

Maybe most people have the same problem as me. If I go to see a film, gig, play, football match, whatever, and it's an event that I have really enjoyed, I find it difficult to verbalise or explain what I liked, except in the most cliched terms. Great, fantastic, fucking fantastic, super dooper, wonderful, marvelous darling, mega, lovely. Language is so difficult and I don't think that I am very good at using it.

I suspect that very many critics don't actually like the stuff they critique. For years I've thought that Barry Norman (the ex-king of TV British film critics) never actually liked very many movies at all and that he was only interested in finding a clever and sarcastic phrase to throw at the punters. I know that he was completely aware of how little his opinion mattered.

Barry Norman used to tell a story about when he reviewed "Confessions Of A Window Cleaner" (a pretty dire early 70's sex comedy, with no redeeming features except that it featured the foxy Linda Hayden, who was in a few really interesting horror films in the 70's) and slated it. The next day Barry was out shopping and got talking to a guy.

"You're Barry Norman off the TV", said the guy.

"I am", said Barry.

"You saw 'Confessions Of A Window Cleaner'", said the guy.

"I did", said Barry.

"That looks like a good film", said the guy. "I might go and see that."

I'm not a critic. I could never be a critic. I find it difficult to say what I think of anything. Recently every post has been a struggle, but I go on...

(The martyr Pynchon nails himself to the cross in his back room. Ow!)

I don't think that I mentioned that I was as pissed as a fart at the Fratellis gig. I wasn't pissed when I arrived at the Carling Academy. I had precisely one bottle of Stella Artois when I met up with Graham. At the Carling Academy I had 3 pints (or was it 4?) I cannot remember. Things are hazy. Suffice to say, I shoved my way to just behind the mixing desk (perfect view), hung on the barrier, and had a great time. At least I didn't blackout or vomit, insult or fight anybody. I was standing next to a girl in Goth makeup who was really attractive. I was old enough to be her Dad.

What was that I wrote about not having to get pissed to enjoy myself? I forget. Actually, I don't. I remember it very well.

So, Wednesday morning I awoke feeling like death, but I took painkillers and went out anyway. I went to see "Blood Diamond".



I was hoping for another powerful African set film like "The Constant Gardener", but "Blood Diamond" is not as good as that, or as affecting or as emotionally resonant. I'll grant you that "Blood Diamond" does have it's moments. It looks wonderful (all burnt browns and oranges) and Djimon Hounsou is truly terrific and gives a very powerful and convincing performance. His Oscar nomination was well deserved. DiCaprio is OK, but I didn't really believe him as an ex mercenary and Jennifer Connolly, as gorgeous as she still is (hello Mr. Shallow), didn't have nearly enough to do.

I only went to see "Blood Diamond" because I thought that it would be gone before this weekend (it hadn't) and that I would be better occupied seeing something serious and not stupid. My other choice was "Hot Fuzz".

Today I saw "The Illusionist". (Sorry "Hot Fuzz".)


There might be some mild spoilers.

The reviews over here have been pretty much up and down on "The Illusionist" but I must confess I really enjoyed it.

Edward Norton is very serious (is he ever anything but serious?), Paul Giamatti is charming and ambiguous, Rufus Sewell is back to his hissable villain best and Jessica Biel gives a performance, rather than just being eye candy. (I never knew she had it in her.) They made the movie happen.

Labels: Block, Drinking, Movies