Pynchon

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

Lorraine is still feeling like shit. As neither Lorraine or I are very good at being sick, or come to that very good at looking after the person who is being sick, you might say that tensions are high at Residence Chez Pynchon. Lorraine cannot sleep because of the coughing. Lorraine is angry, tired and annoyed. I cannot sleep because of the coughing. Ditto. Sometimes, during the night, Lorraine shouts at herself in frustration. Once, after a coughing fit, Lorraine managed to piss herself. Probably a good reason to have a shout at yourself. I know I would if it happened to me.

Lorraine intends to go to work tomorrow. That is assuming that I do not cut her throat in the night.

Swings and roundabouts, though. I came back from shopping today to a glass of Bucks Fizz and a huge slice of some kind of cream and fruit apocalypse, with extra cream poured all over it. I also got a hug. That was nice.

Time for my last two film reviews of the year. There will be no more movies seen at the cinema this year. I am all filmed out.

"I Am Legend".



It's quite interesting how the UK reviews of "I Am Legend" have panned out. The general gist seems to be that most reviewers really liked the first two thirds, but felt that all of the good work was undone by a rushed and unbalanced final third. Broadly I think I would agree with that. The first two thirds of "I Am Legend" are absolute genius, not only because of the brilliant realisation of an abandoned and devastatingly empty New York City, but because of a truly fine performance by Will Smith as Robert Neville.

3 years after a man made disease devastated the human race, Robert Neville is the last man left alive in New York City. He is haunted by dreams of his family, the way the crisis escalated out of control and the responsibility to find a 'fix'. Neville's isolation, depression and slowly building psychosis are a real thing. When night comes, Neville hides away. There is terror and there is dread, because there are things in the dark...

"I Am Legend" is a mostly great film, with a consistently great performance by Will Smith. Head and shoulders above what is the norm for a Christmas blockbuster. It is true that the ending dips into pretty predictable, CGI heavy, action heroics, but if you like that kind of thing, you will enjoy it. I just think that the ending somewhat dissipated the paranoid atmosphere built up earlier in the film. I think that the film deserved a better ending. The ending of the book would have been good. A new world born from the old.

Who am I kidding? No Hollywood studio would have gone for that ending. Way too bleak.

"Paranoid Park".



"Paranoid Park" is about what is going on in the head of a teenage boy after he has experienced a shattering trauma. He is dislocated and remote and 'not all there', or is he just in shock? It really is up to the audience to decide for themselves, because in an experimental movie like this one, no easy answers are forthcoming.

In general I quite like Gus Van Sant's films, but be aware that you need to judge each of his films on their own merits. This is hardly the Gus Van Sant of Hollywoodian mild indie fare like "To Die For", "Psycho", "Good Will Hunting" or "Finding Forrester". Stylistically "Paranoid Park" is a close cousin to his later "Elephant". Low key, quiet, internalised, sometimes naturalistic, but often dreamy, and with a chronologically fractured timeline. None of the actors seemed to be acting at all. Brilliant casting or brilliant acting? I am unsure.

Not for everybody.

I need now to go away and think about my top 10 films of the year. I bet you can hardly wait.

Back tomorrow.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Movies, Stress

I will be brief.

Lorraine is home and is feeling like shit. She has some kind of cold or flu bug, which she has picked up from one of her Brother's two sets of twins. Shame she didn't pass it onto her Sister's vile children. (Ooooh, ain't I the nasty one?)

I feel the urge to pamper and look after Lorraine, despite the fact that she has been a pain in the arse since she arrived home. Sometimes this bloody halo hanging around my head is a real nuisance.

A word or two about yesterday's Villa game.

Chelsea 4-4 The Mighty Villa.



It was the most exciting game of football I have ever attended, with the possible exception of the 1994 Coca Cola Cup semi final against Tranmere Rovers. Villa were just fantastic. We should have won it. In fact, it feels like a win as we played practically the whole of the second half with one man down.

0-2 up at half time. Dodgy penalty decision and Zat Knight sent off. The penalty converted. 1-2. Half time. Second half. They equalised. 2-2. Then they went ahead. 3-2. Then we equalised. 3-3. Then they went ahead again. 4-3. Then, in the last minute, we got a penalty and the Iceman Gareth Barry put it away. 4-4.

Some reports are calling it the game of the season. I wouldn't disagree with that. As you can see I am a really bad reviewer of football games. I go to so few of them. Look up some of the proper reviews for yourself. All I will say is that we shat 'em.

I also saw "I Am Legend" today. I will write about that film next time.

Labels: Football, Illness, Lorraine

Lorraine has just phoned. She has got to her destination safely.

Do I need to write about how much I miss her nuisance and about how quiet the house is without her in it? Do I need to write about how cold I felt standing in the hallway on my own and about how I felt so disheartened at the thought of cooking for myself, that all I have had is a mince pie and a beer for my tea?

No. I don't need to write about any of that. I will adjust. I will feel better tomorrow. It's not as if she has gone for good.

Anyway, it has been a busy couple of days. Two films and one gig.

On Tuesday morning I went to see "Enchanted".



Oh, my... Excuse my French, but "Enchanted" is just fucking fantastic. So good and enchanting (see what I did there?) that when the movie was over I practically floated out of the cinema.

Seriously, "Enchanted" is a really great family movie, and this is from a man who hardly ever watches family movies at the cinema. If you like, "Enchanted" is a Disney movie for people who hate Disney movies. Comedy for the kids, knowing in-jokes for the adults and a brilliant central performance by Amy Adams as Giselle, cartoon ingenue come to life, all wide eyed innocence and fluttering hand movements. If you see a more game and better comedic performance this year, please let me know, but I doubt if you will. Amy Adams is just wonderful.

Great supporting performances from cynical divorce lawyer with a heart of gold, Patrick Dempsey, more square jawed that any man in history, James Marsden, villainous hag and evil witch queen, Susan Sarandon and snivelling henchman, Timothy Spall. Not to forget the comedy chipmunk. Or was it a comedy rat?

I think that "Enchanted" is well worth the trip to your local fleapit.

On Tuesday evening I went to see From The Jam featuring Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler, at the Carling Academy in Birmingham.



I am going to cheat, because I am feeling lazy.

Let me direct you to a good review of a From The Jam show, written by Swiss Toni a couple of weeks ago, that you can find here, and my own review of the Wulfrun Hall show I went to back in May, that you can find here. If I bothered to write a new review I would mostly only be repeating myself, because From The Jam (again) were just bloody brilliant.

Differences this time.

1. Yer Pynch was not smashed out of his face. His Brother wasn't drinking much, so neither did he.
2. Yer Pynch did not pass out. See above.
3. The band opened with "All Mod Cons" and "To Be Someone (Didn't We Have A Nice Time)" (which is the greatest post Britpop song of all time, by the way) instead of "In The City" and (I think) "Thick As Thieves".
4. There were no Suburban Hen lookalikes anywhere in sight. In fact, thinking about it, I don't think I saw anybody of the fair female form anywhere in the venue.

It was a really great gig. I think that Bruce and Rick are onto a winner here. Maybe a Christmas tour will be a regular occurrence, like the annual Madness and Pogues gigs? Maybe From The Jam will produce a new album and it will be fantastic.

Maybe.

On Wednesday morning I went to see "Hitman".

As personality free, vacuous and empty, but gorgeous looking action movies go, "Hitman" wasn't bad at all. True, Timothy Olyphant was a bit miscast as a baldy action star (Jason Statham might have been better) he did his best, but "Hitman" did entertain me and had some great set pieces, and Olga Kurylenko was a beautiful as she was in "Le Serpent", albeit maybe a little thin. I just don't think I understood or got all of "Hitman" in the way I was supposed to.

Before I saw "Hitman" I talked to a guy at work who is a dedicated computer game player and he asked me if I liked the previous computer game adaptation, "Doom". I told him that I thought "Doom" was a piece of shit. He smiled and said that in that case to forget about seeing "Hitman" , because I wouldn't get the references, the imagery or the nods to the game playing scenarios in the original game.

Maybe he was right, but I have always been of the opinion that a movie adaptation of material from another source, should not limit your audience to only those with an in depth knowledge of the source. Your audience should be everybody with the potential to want to sit through your movie. True, you have to be relatively faithful to the source material, otherwise why bother with the source material at all?, but the requirements of making an interesting movie should come first and foremost.

I liked "Hitman" well enough. A decent enough movie for a Wednesday morning, but that was about all. It is not a classic, but I imagine it will make it's money back on sell through.

Labels: Gigs, Lorraine, Movies, Music, Sad

It has been a busy couple of days, but as it is the last evening that Lorraine and I will be spending together until late next week, as tomorrow she disappears down south to spend Christmas with her family, I think that writing about "Enchanted", From The Jam and "Hitman" can wait until another time.

No time to read any blogs, but I hope that everyone is well.

Back tomorrow.

Labels: Gigs, Lorraine, Movies

I am finding it very hard to be bothered. I write about writing about things, which is hardly inspiring at all, now is it?

I know what is happening. I am drifting into a depressive state. It has happened before. Maybe it is is part of the Pynchon family genetic makeup. Some of you know about my Mom's problems in the past and about Sister 2's continuing problems. My Mom told me recently that my Brother is also having problems. She wants me to have a word with him because she thinks that I will make a difference. I doubt it. My Brother told my Mom that lately I don't have anything to do with him. I don't know where he got that from. I love my Brother with all of my heart.

Late last week I asked Lorraine if she wanted to go to bed with me. She said No. I asked when she might want to go to bed with me. She said that she didn't know. Weeks go by now without me asking because I always know the answer and why cause tension by asking? I find it more and more difficult to raise the subject. Or do I find it less and less of a problem?

I watch couples in the street. I watch the hand holding and the laughter and the cuddles and I want to tell them to make the most of it, because it will end sooner or later. Maybe this happens to everybody. Indifferent women and frustrated men. I don't know. Maybe I am an aberration? Maybe I am the one not behaving the way a 44 year old should behave? Maybe I should have known to expect this?

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Sex

Chores get in the way of Blogging. Such is life.

Lorraine has decided to lend her cousin some money. Four thousand pounds, to be exact. I have been moving money around Lorraine's bank accounts.

Somehow I failed to notice to sign above our front door that read "Bank Of Lorraine". Then again, it is her money and I don't suppose it has got anything to do with me. I will shut up now.

I have lots of things to write about, but now I am going to watch TV. I feel anxious.

Labels: Lorraine, Money

The plan.

Friday night. We chill. No panic, no hassle, no stress. We watch TV, we do nothing.

Saturday morning. I lay out the stuff I want to take to Nottingham and Lorraine packs them into a small travelling case along with the stuff she wants to take. We leave the house at 9:40 precisely. We catch the bus. We catch the train. We arrive in Nottingham. We visit Lorraine's appalling millionairess friend and have lunch. (Hey, it kills the time until we can book into the hotel.) We have the craic.

The reality.

Friday night. Actually pretty good. We watched a couple of episodes of series 1 "Scrubs" (the first appearance of Jordan - what a woman!). I did the washing up. I surfed the net and posted on the blog. Lorraine went to bed. I watched "The IT Crowd" and had a wank to the Adult Channel 10 minute freeview.

Saturday. I am up early. I shower. I lay my stuff out on the bed. Lorraine gets up, scowls at me, goes downstairs and...

She is on the laptop downstairs playing Solitaire. She has been playing Solitaire for an hour or so.

She has packed nothing.

We leave the house in 1 hour and 7 minutes.

I'm just going to kick her up the arse. I may see some of you later. Or I may not.

Labels: Lorraine, Time

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

Happy Birthday to me (for yesterday)
Happy Birthday to me (for yesterday)
Happy Birthday dear Johnny (for yesterday)
Happy Birthday to me (for yesterday).

That's the fun bit out of the way, because my Birthday didn't quite go to plan. In fact it pretty well turned to shit from the moment I rose from my bed.

I awoke with a bit of a dicky stomach. I blamed it on the dodgy Chinese takeaway from the night before. (Yes, as suspected, Lorraine cried off from going out for a meal on Thursday evening due to some unspecified illness. Hell, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was feeling unwell. Sometimes it happens.) After a while on the toilet, and a good scrub in all crevices in the shower (too much information?), I decided to go and see a film ("Hallam Foe"). There would be plenty of time before Lorraine arrived home and we had to leave to see "Cats" at the Birmingham Hippodrome.

I felt unwell on the bus, but it was manageable. I bought my ticket and went to the toilet again. I was there for awhile. I went in just as the movie was starting. (Unusual for me. I like to get into the cinema, shut my eyes in the adverts and then open them to watch the trailers.) My stomach hurt and it seemed particularly distended. I had a strange feeling in my throat. I prayed for the film to end and it was not because it was a bad film. (Like all of David Mackenzie's films it was interesting). The film ended. Before the credits started to roll I ran for the toilets. I vomited and also produced a quite beautiful waterfall of a shit. Damned lucky they were not simultaneous events. (Again, if there is too much information here, I apologise.)

Somehow... I got home. I rang Lorraine.

"I might not be going to see 'Cats'. I don't feel very well."

I went to bed. This was at 2pm. Things got vague after that. I was sweating like a pig. There were toilet visits. I had sex dreams about a girl that I talk to on the bus, sometimes. Shapes on the curtains in the front bedroom were moving and I could a tableau of three astronauts praying to a Cat God. The head of one of the astronauts was surrounded by a veil of psychic power which, apparently, is what happens when a Cat God appears. A headache came and went.

Lorraine arrived home. She asked if I had taken any of the anti-diarrhoea tablets that the Doctor had prescribed for me the last time I had 'bottom' problems. I hadn't. I told her that I couldn't swallow anything as it made me sick. Lorraine was furious. I think she said that she couldn't believe she had wasted so much money on tickets for a show that I couldn't be bothered to go to. I told her to "go fuck yourself" if she thought I was putting this on and to "go on your fucking own if you want to!"

Lorraine rang around to see if anybody wanted the tickets. Nobody did. She bought me water during the evening. I ate nothing. I dozed. I woke. It got dark. I slept. I had stomach pains which stopped sometime after 3am. I finally rose from my bed at 8am. Lorraine wasn't in the house. She left a note to say that she had gone to work.

Fun day. Yes?

I have a bit of a headache, but feel fine now. The family are coming out for a meal later. I can do it. I will eat sensibly and in small portions. It is a buffet. It will not be a problem.

I have paid Lorraine back for the tickets, although she told me not to bother. She is upset that she did not get me a birthday card (not sure how she missed that) and, as she bought the tickets as a birthday gift, she has not got me a birthday present either. I told her to get me something later or to get me something extra special for Christmas.

Things have been bad all around. Today I have managed to massively upset my Mom during a phone call I received today and have been told off by both Sister's 1 and 3. I am not going to go into that now.

The way I see it, things have been bad, but today is the start of a new year for me. I will endeavour to make things better. It is all I can do. I'm such a saint, I could just shit. Ah... But I've been doing plenty of that. Ha ha ha!

Thoughts will follow in due course of the plays "The Last Confession" and "The Thirty Nine Steps" and the movies "The Wicker Man", "Seraphim Falls" and "Hallam Foe". Later, but for the moment I need to rest and do nothing.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine

Just a quick post to say that we are back! Pretty well safe and sound.

It's been an incredibly tiring weekend and Bank Holiday. Our trips to the smoke are always tiring. It's our own fault. We try to cram in as many things as possible and still end up not doing everything we planned to do. As I am at home this week, I was considering going back to London either tomorrow or Thursday to catch a matinee show, but that would be lunacy. Sometimes you just have to stop. Or take the time to go to the cinema. Ha ha!

So, as I said. A quick post. I need to leave the house in a while as I have an appointment with "The Wicker Man". A longer report of

1. Saturday matinee show. A serious, but actually quite funny, play about power, corruption and lies in the Vatican.
2. Saturday evening show. A rip roaring piss take of a much loved 1930's British thriller.
3. The hotel.
4. The greatest concierge in the world.
5. The food in the hotel.
6. Lorraine getting pissed on Gin 'n' Tonics.
7. Street performers.
8. St. Paul's Cathedral.
9. Millennium Bridge.
10. The Globe Theatre.
11. The Tower Of London.
12. H. M. S. Belfast.
13. London Bridge.
14. Walking for miles.
15. Walking for miles in the opposite direction.
16. Da Stones.
17. Lorraine's red face.
18. The distance between people in bed.
19. Breakfast in an Italian Cafe.
20. Walking for miles.
21. Shopping.
22. Fortnum & Mason's.
23. Walking for miles in the opposite direction.
24. Sitting in Green Park.

will follow later (plus all the things I have forgotten at this precise moment).

Today, Lorraine went to work today as she is mad. I went into town and did the shopping for the week. This afternoon I watched an OK television biopic of the story of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis called... Er... "Martin And Lewis". (Jeremy Northam as Dean Martin? Weird, but it worked. Sean Hayes as Jerry Lewis? Very good, I thought.) I slept. I woke up. I paid some bills.

Need to go. Lorraine has just come home.

I hope everyone had a cracking time.

Labels: Lorraine, Plays, Travel

For the unaware, there is a slight difference between private schools and comprehensives in Britain. The Department of Education has realised this and has revised the secondary Maths Exam papers accordingly.

Below are the most recent maths exam papers for your reference.

MATHS TEST FOR COMPREHENSIVES

Name _____________________________

Nickname__________________________

Gang Name________________________

1. Simon has 0.5 kilos of cocaine. If he sells an 8 ball to Matt for 300 quid and 90 grams to Ollie for 90 quid, what is the street value of the rest of his hold?
2. Damon pimps 3 bitches. If the price is GBP40 a ride, how many jobs per day must each bitch perform to support Damon's GBP500 a day coke habit?
3. Crackster wants to cut the kilo of cocaine he bought for 7,000 quid to make a 20% profit. How many grams of Strychnine will he need?
4. Trev got 6 years for murder. He also got GBP350,000 for the hit. If his common law wife
   spends GBP33,100 per month, how much money will be left when he gets out? Extra Credit Bonus: How much more time will Trev get for killing the slapper that spent his money?
5. If an average can of spray paint covers 22 square metres and the average letter is 1 square metre, how many letters can be sprayed with eight fluid ounce cans of spray paint with 20% extra paint free?
6. Liam steals Jordan's skateboard. As Liam skates away at a speed of 35mph, Jordan loads his brother's Armalite. If it takes Jordan 20 seconds to load the gun, how far will Liam have travelled when he gets whacked?

MATHS TEST FOR PRIVATE SCHOOLS

Name___________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________ (If longer please continue on a separate sheet)

School _______________________________________________

Daddy's/Mummy's Company ____________________________

1. Harry smashes up the old man's car, causing x amount of damage and killing 3 people. The old man asks his local Chief Constable to intervene in the court system, then forges his insurance claim and receives a payment of y. The difference between x and y is three times the life insurance settlement for the three dead people. What kind of car is Harry driving now?
2. Fiona's personal shopper decides to substitute generic and own-brand products for the designer goods favoured by her employer. In the course of a month she saves the price of a return ticket to Fiji and Fiona doesn't even notice the difference. Is she thick or what?
3. Tristram fancies the arse off a certain number of debutants, but he only has enough Rohypnol left to render 33.3% unconscious. If he has 14 tablets of Rohypnol, how is he ever going to shag the other two thirds?
4. If Verity throws up 4 times a day for a week she can fit into a size 8 Versace. If she only throws up 3 times a day for two weeks, she has to make do with a size 10 Dolce & Gabbana. How much does liposuction cost?
5. Henry is unsure about his sexuality. Three days a week he fancies women. On the other days he fancies men, ducks and vacuum cleaners. However he only has access to the Hoover every third week. When will he stand for parliament?

********

Yes. I do have a headache. Nearly the best I can do, I'm afraid.

Lorraine is home. She is well. She will be here until Wednesday afternoon and then she will be travelling back to the smoke again for the funeral. All being well she will be back on Thursday night.

I will write a little about "The Painted Veil" tomorrow.

Labels: Humour, Lorraine

I spoke to Lorraine last night. She is coming home on Sunday. Lorraine is upset and annoyed because the hospital so far have refused to release the body of her Aunt. I'm not sure exactly why and Lorraine was not in a mood to elaborate. The funeral may not take place at the end of next week. Lorraine's composure seems to have gone for a walk.

My friend Lisabeth was on the bus this evening. We talked about "Heroes", "Gangsters", "Dexter", where television programmes can be downloaded from on the net, the current bad weather, the snowstorm that hit the Midlands back on 9th February 2007 (when we spoke to each other for the first time), her and my plans for the weekend (not together, by the way) and other things that currently slip my mind. I looked into her eyes for a full 35 minutes and she didn't break eye contact even once.

I have had sexual dreams about her and also about Lorraine.

Yes. With everything that is going on at the moment, I am truly a shit.

What am I going to do?

Labels: Lorraine, Sex

I spoke to Lorraine on the phone yesterday and also today. She seems very calm, very composed. She even made a joke about me not being a bloater, and to make sure there is some food in the fridge for when she returns at the weekend. (On Saturday I bought a shitload of food for the week, most of which went straight into the freezer when I realised she wasn't home.) I suppose whatever grief there is going to be will happen when she gets back. I hate to see her cry, but I am ready for it.

Lorraine's Aunt's funeral will be on Thursday next week. Lorraine said that it is up to me if I go or not and that she won't hold it against me if I don't go.

Nothing much else to write about, except the two films that I saw at the weekend.

"4: Rise Of The Silver Surfer".



... Or to give it it's proper title, "Fantastic Four 2: The Contractual Obligation".

OK. That's very negative. As a superhero movie pitched towards very small children, I suppose that there is nothing wrong with "4: Rise Of The Silver Surfer", but really it should have been so much better. I know that a lot of people didn't like the first "Fantastic Four" movie very much, but I did (it was big, silly, technicolour fun), and sad to say it, "4: Rise Of The Silver Surfer" is nowhere near as good.

The great assets of the first film were Chris Evans, Michael Chiklis and Julian McMahon. The film came alive whenever those actors were onscreen. This time round they sleepwalked their way through their roles (I'm sure I saw one of them checking his watch), leaving Ioan Gruffudd and Jessica Alba (very nice to look at, but I hated your hair this time, Darling!) to drown in a plot of bad jokes and semi-romantic mush (both of which I sometimes have a disturbingly high tolerance for, but not this time). The Silver Surfer effects are magnificent, but the least you can expect in a Summer blockbuster are good special effects.

Should have been better. Much, much better.

"Molière".



Thirteen years before finding fame as a playwright, Molière (Romain Duris) is a debt ridden actor leading his own unsuccessful acting troupe. Thrown into gaol as a result of this debts, he is saved by a rich, middle aged benefactor Monsieur Romain (Fabrice Luchini) who, desperate to attract a young widow (Ludivine Sagnier), hires Molière to teach him how to act. While working with Monsieur Romain, Molière starts to develop feelings for Madame Romain (Laura Morante)...

I really liked "Molière", even if it did not turn out to be the full blown French farce that it could have been. It was a nice, gentle, warm comedy, with moments of great hilarity and great melancholy. Make sure you have a couple of handkerchief's ready before the end. You might need them.

Nicely written and nicely played. Good performances from everybody, especially Fabrice Luchini as Monsieur Romain who plays, frankly, a true horse's ass. Some very funny (and modern) observations on the art of being an actor, the pros and cons of the "method" and comedians who want to play it "straight" when really they should stick to making people laugh.

Yes, it does have subtitles. Sigh. Have a read.

Labels: Lorraine, Movies

Lorraine's Aunt died last night at 11pm. Lorraine and Lorraine's Cousin were with her. More importantly Lorraine's Aunt knew that they were there.

Before now I have smiled craftily and I have winked knowingly, saying that I am not a nice person. There is precious little to smile or wink about, because I really am not a nice person. My reaction yesterday was despicable. No argument. There was no way that I could expect Lorraine to choose spending time with me on a Sunday over a family member who was grievously ill. Especially a family member who was the defacto Mother to her for a couple of years. Oh, yes. I didn't mention that little titbit, did I?

In her early teens Lorraine ran away from home. All sorts of reasons why. Maybe I will go into them at a later date. Lorraine went to her Aunt's. Her Aunt took her in. Lorraine never went home as the atmosphere was so bad. Instead Lorraine stayed with her Aunt until she was (I think) 20 or 21, which was when Lorraine got married.

When her Aunt was in distress and needed support, this was the person that Lorraine ran to. This was the situation that I had a childish temper tantrum over, when I should have held my tongue and been supportive. Lorraine knows me to well. Maybe this is why she has kept her distance from me, for the past couple of years.

Lorraine was right and I was wrong. I feel thoroughly ashamed. Lorraine will be away this week as there is a sorting out to do.

I just want her to come home so that I can love her.

Labels: Death, Family, Lorraine

Remember me saying that "Things ain't so bad"? Don't believe a word of it.

Lorraine and I will not be going to the cinema tomorrow because Lorraine isn't here. Lorraine is somewhere on a train heading towards Golders Green. This morning Lorraine had a phone call from her Cousin to tell her that her Aunt is in hospital. Her Aunt's condition is very serious.

I'm sketchy on the details, but basically on a scheduled visit to Lorraine's Aunt, Lorraine's Cousin didn't get any response when she knocked the door. This was not right. Lorraine's Aunt is in her mid 80's and, except on rare occasions, is always at home. Lorraine's Cousin became worried, called the police, who kicked the door in. Lorraine's Aunt was found on the living room floor. Lorraine's Aunt could have been there several days. The neighbours never noticed a thing, because Lorraine's Aunt has nothing to do with them. They are Asian and Lorraine's Aunt does not like Asian's. (Yes. I know. I have said before that Lorraine's Aunt is a disagreeable old witch. It is never fun visiting her. I find it very difficult to bite my tongue for extended periods of time and that is what I am often forced to do when she is in full flow.)

Lorraine said that she would go down to London straight away. Lorraine's Cousin said that there would be little point at the moment. Lorraine and I talked. Lorraine said she felt guilty, because recently she had been putting off visiting her Aunt due to - Ta! Da! - pressures of work. She agreed that she would let her Cousin handle the situation and that she would make herself available later in the week, if needed. Lorraine said that I should go out to the cinema, as I had planned, as she was going to dial into work to keep her mind busy. (For God's sake...)

I assumed that sometime between then (midday approximately) and the time I came home from the cinema (5:30 pm) something had changed, because I returned to a handwritten note which read, "Gone to Golders Green". Lorraine did call me about an hour ago. She is still travelling. I asked her what had changed. Lorraine said nothing had changed. Lorraine had just changed her mind about going to see her Aunt. Oh. That's OK then.

I shouldn't be, because this is the kind of thing that God or fate likes to throw at us when we have got plans, but I am more than faintly annoyed. I know I am being selfish. I know I am being a shit, but I really wanted us to spend Sunday doing something together, even if it was only going to see another tedious Harry Potter film. Fucking families.

Is it so wrong to want me/us to come first, over family and work, just this once?

Labels: Family, Illness, Lorraine

Important words.

Things ain't so bad. Lorraine has decided that on Sunday that she would like to attend the cinema with me. Some film about a potter, or something...

Labels: Humour, Lorraine, Movies

I've been reading Keith Allen's autobiography "Grow Up". (A great read, by the way. Even if it has been half ghost written by one of his exes, it gets the essence of the man down to a T.) This paragraph struck me.

"Some people argue that the condition we call love is a chemically induced state whose existence causes those feelings we articulate in order to define it. Others believe the opposite to be true. The feelings cause the chemical reaction. Me? I don't mind either way, to be quite honest. There is, however, one thing of which I'm absolutely certain. You lose intimacy - sexual or emotional - and your relationship as conceived is doomed."

Yes. I think I would agree with that.

I can be wilfully obscure when I want to be. I just choose not to be, most of the time. True, I do change the names to protect the innocent and the guilty, but my bag has always been to tell it all, leave nothing out and bore with the details.

I posted a clip from You Tube last night. The video of one of my favourite Blur songs, "She's So High". Maybe I was being deliberately obscure. I don't know. It was pretty clear to me. I do see Lorraine every day and it doesn't help me. I do want to crawl all over her. I think of her every day and every night. I go to sleep angry and furious with her because she has turned me into this pathetic thing.

This is not what I signed up for.

Labels: Lorraine, Music, Reading

Me again.

As you have probably gathered, nothing of consequence is going to be written tonight. I have spent the last hour booking a train ticket for Lorraine, who (as normal) wanted to know every variation of times, connections and journey, before she made up her mind as to what she wanted. I shouldn't moan. If I was doing it for me, I would probably be just as picky.

It's not a trip that Lorraine wants to make, but needs must. One of her elderly relatives has had a bad fall and is in hospital, and Lorraine wants to show 'support' to his missus; her cousin. I'm a bit pissed off that Lorraine is going to be away this weekend, simply because we had intended to have a night out and see "Ocean's Thirteen", but I would be a shit if I objected to her not being here, wouldn't I?

So, I'll just do a quick list to whet your appetite about some things I want to write about.

1. "Captivity".
2. "Like Minds".
3. A lady showing her breasts in the restaurant at the Midlands Art Centre.
4. Skinny squirrels.
5. The Alfred Hitchcock DVD box set.
6. "Grow Up" by Keith Allen.
7. My Mom's solution to the Lorraine-and-Pynchon-do-not-fuck-anymore situation.
8. "Doctor Who".
9. Floods.
10. My Brother getting barred from Reflex.
11. Ginger Foghorn.

Can't wait!

Labels: Lorraine, Time

I am in terrible pain. It hurts to stand on my right ankle. My shins ache. My thighs throb. My right wrist hurts. My fingers will not bend properly. My face is also red and the skin has started to peel off the top of my head.

The reason?

On Saturday morning I did some gardening. It was the hottest day of the year so far. I didn't wear a hat and muscles that didn't want to get used were used. Four hours of torture.

Never again. Bloody garden. When we were looking for a house, Lorraine announced that she wanted a house with a reasonably sized garden because she would, and I quote, "do things in it". All lies! Foul woman. I think Lorraine has spent maybe two hours working in the garden in the past six years, and that was back in 2003.

It's all my Brother's fault that I was in the garden on Saturday morning. I was supposed to have been going with him to choose a new laptop, but 10 minutes before I was due to leave the house he called to tell me to forget it. He wasn't bothered about getting one straight away. I think he called from his bed. Bastard.

There was a choice. Go to the cinema (tempting, but I'm always going to the cinema), clean the house (No, I did it last week) or tackle the jungle. I did what I thought was the right thing. Serves me right for being such a caring, wonderful, modest example of manhood.

Lorraine has expressed kind words.

"You should have worn a hat. You're also fat and out of condition. Going out in the garden probably did you good!"

I gave her the evil eye and made a sign at her with my finger.

Other than a trip to my Mom's to deliver Sister 2's late birthday presents ("Cool Runnings" and "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" on DVD), a trip to the cinema yesterday and a quick detour to the train station to pick up Lorraine's train tickets for Thursday, I have been safely ensconced in the house, slumped in front of the TV set.

We watched "Firewall" on cable.



Absolutely dreadful. Cliche upon cliche. Not an original idea in the whole movie. Virginia Madsen - wasted. Paul Bettany - wasted. Mary Lynn Rajskub playing Chloe, again. Annoying children and, oh fuck me, a cute dog! Terrible. Awful.

Lorraine and I really enjoyed it. No, we did. Really. "Firewall" was really funny. I'm just not sure that it was supposed to be funny...

I hate to add a note of ageism here, but Harrison Ford now seems way too old to be playing action parts. In "Firewall" he looked old, at the age of 64, in a way that neither Connery nor Eastwood looked old at the same age. Such a shame. I'm not looking forward to "Indiana Jones 4" at all.

After Lorraine had gone to bed (she refuses to watch horror) I watched the 2006 remake of "The Hills Have Eyes" on cable. I had seen the original years ago, and it made such an impression on me that I cannot remember anything about it, except for Michael Berryman's startling appearance.

I really enjoyed "The Hills Have Eyes" remake. I thought it was great. Mutants. Horror. Torture. Plenty of gore, for the gore hounds. Plenty of violence for the... Er... Violence hounds. A heroic dog! Good performances from everybody, but especially from Aaron Stanford, looking years older than his turn in the "X-Men" movies.



I find the majority of horror films not at all scary; maybe I've seen too many of them over the years, but for me "The Hills Have Eyes" has one great jaw dropping moment when (Spoiler) mutant guy with teeth breastfeeds from the nursing sister... and then her Mother arrives (End of spoiler).

It's a scene that lasts only a matter of seconds, but Yuck. I'll say it again. Yuck. Urgh and Yuck and Urgh again.

Lorraine and I watched "Doctor Who" on Saturday. Great, brilliant, scary episode. The BBC billed it as the most frightening modern episode of "Doctor Who" that they have ever done, and they were right. I was absolutely on the edge of my sofa. Lorraine had a cushion ready to cover her eyes in case the horror tried to drive her mad.

Lorraine and I watched the "Any Dream Will Do" finale. I had a cushion ready to cover my eyes in case the horror tried to drive me mad. Curly haired Lee triumphed over goofy teethed Keith and Max Headroom haired Lewis. He was the right choice.

I need to go to bed to rest my limbs. I was serious about the pain. I will add links tomorrow.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, Movies, Television