It's Held Up By Art
So I'm looking into architecture again. Haven't seriously considered that as a career since I was eleven years old, but amazingly the things that discouraged me then are discouraging me now; the entrance requirements for architecture schools rely more heavily on art qualifications than they do on science and engineering. Now I obvioulsy appreciate that from an overall design point of view you need to have an artistic vision, so I looked into being an architectural technician. These are the guys who take the architects 'vision' and turn it into something mechanically sound. Guess what? Entrance requirements again rely heavily on an accomplished portfolio of work, and only require the absolute minimum of scientific qualification (a mathematics GCSE grade C or above...). I can
kinda see that for a design architect an artistic flair is important, but surely the tech guys should actually have a solid basis in mathematics, physics, engineering... they are after all turning the architects pretty drawings into something that won't fall down. I'm a pretty decent draftsman (although I suppose everybody is in these days of CAD) and an accomplished model maker, and of course a kick-ass mathematician, but unless I can sketch the front elevation of a building in a way that'll impress a committee it seems that architecture will once again turn its back on me.
Of course, it's possible that I give up too easily.
*Cough*
I failed in my attempts to fix my vacuum cleaner, it still sounds like its swallowed a cat, which can't be good, and in the process of dis-assembling and re-assembling it I managed to swallow a hefty amount of dust, which cannot in any way be good.
There's a patch on my right calf which looks like it's been waxed: a perfectly rectilinear area of hairlessness. I'm sure that's the sort of thing I'd remember though. Another of life's little mysteries I guess.
In happy news I have an interview at a Barclaycard (Fraud Prevention Office) in mid-August! So yay me.
Yay!
Toast
Hovis Best Of Both isn't very nice for sandwiches, but it's really good for toasting I have just discovered. So that's nice. I can feel another toast jag coming on as we speak.
Discovery got away safe and well, although I have never actually watched a launch with such a knot of worry in the pit of my stomach. What was cool though was that they cameras on-board so we could actually watch the launch from the POV of the external tank or whatever (although if you look something DID come off...). Sadly the quality of science journalism was as piss poor as always, with reporters asking utterly inane questions about the "bizarre forces" acting upon the shuttle (that'd be acceleration, very 'otherwordly' to be sure). Although to be fair the majority of television journalists don't really seem to know anything at all, no history, art, culture, language - not even the one they're broadcasting in, so I suppose the lack of science knowledge isn't exactly unexpected, but what irritates me is the way they portray science as something mystifying and baffling beyond the ken of mere mortals, and by virtue of its incomprehensibility it is rendered unimportant.
So, the hunt for Thursday's failed bombers continues. Interestingly, despite arriving on the scene within minutes of the incident the police have yet to actually find any of these guys, although they have tracked their movements in the following twenty four hours. Apparently they went home.
*blink*
Yep, at least two of the four most wanted men in Britain, devoid of any form of demonstrable intelligence, went home. And still the police can't find them! They're probably still at home, just lurking in the kitchen until the police go away. In other related harrangues, I note that one of the bombers received housing benefit, which is odd 'cos the local council here still haven't paid me anything and they owe me gettin on for two grand now! I do wonder how we failed these guys though. I mean at least two of them are immigrants into this country, one of whom was naturalised last year, so what did we do wrong? What was it that lead them to think that blowing up their fellow Londoners was a Good Idea? I wonder if we'll ever know?
Weeeeeeeeell I Woke Up This Afternoon....
Bloody hell, I need to start waking up when it's y'know, actually the morning. I don't know what's goin' on here, but I suspect I'm falling into the ultimate trap of the unemployed: having nothing to do. Having no externally imposed purpose is a real pain in the arse for me, I'm terrible at keeping myself motivated towards a goal that is largely abstract. I'll let this week play itself out though, and see how we go from there. See, that's the other terrible thing right there: its Tuesday and I've already written the week off as a failure! Not that there is any way to distinguish one day from the next, they're just a blur of amazing pointlessness.
Speaking of which, I finally saw Withnail & I yesterday, and whilst I enjoyed the movie immensely what thrilled me the most was that (according to Danny at least) the events of the movie encompass the day of my birth way back in '69. Which for some reason I found staggeringly cool. Then I got all nostalgic for the 70s, then I went to bed. For like a bazillion hours! And I had a weird dream about a guy who claimed to have invented something, but who got sliced up for constantly going on about it, and then I was running away from things I could hear but couldn't see, and met this cute girl working at reception in a hotel and then the invisible things attacked and she had to go on the run with me too (shame!) and... I remember hiding in the ruins of an old disused gym...
Today NASA are gonna make another attempt to put Discovery into orbit after the last launch was scrubbed by a fault they apparently can't quite pin down, but are willing to ignore if it happens again. I'd really thought that with the aborting of the last launch I'd actually lived to see the end of manned space-flight, and I suppose if something hideous happens today then I will have. NASA however have done some tests, can't work out what's wrong and are gonna go ahead with it anyway (that having worked out so brilliantly in the past - if the fuel sensor fails then the engines will auto-shutdown, and if that happens during the first few seconds of lift-off then there's gonna be a hell of a bang when the shuttle falls unceremoniously back to Earth) and I was actually surprised to see Bush has plans to return man to the Moon and then to eventually push on to Mars (which to be fair was the original vision for the post-Apollo programme space-flight environment), although as a lame duck president he really has no way of making this happen. From a realistic point of view, manned space-flight achieves next door to nothing, its almost prohibitively expensive, its dangerous - and yet I find it to be the pinnacle of the romance of exploration and I'm immensely moved by it. Robotic missions are far better for useful space science, no matter what astronauts might tell you, but the actual experience of having a human being there, able to make first hand observations... that's mind-blowing to me. It's astonishing to think that in the entire history of mankind exactly twelve men have set foot upon an alien planet. I do tend to get lost in the romance of it all, as I've said, if you let me I'll go on and on about it all day... but I won't, I want some lunch.
Oops I Did It Again
Remember that 'terrorist' that the police shot and killed on Friday? Turns out he was a completely innocent Brazilian electrician.
If the aim of the terrorist is to change our way of life, then I guess they've already won eh? This shit may happen in other countries, but over here our police force don't execute civilians by shooting them in the back of the head five times. Or at least they didn't until Friday.
Clarification: Kubrick Still Boring!
As the more observant amongst you will have noticed, this week I have both defended the films of Michael Bay, and attacked those of Stanley Kubrick. That's probably a fairly controversial position, but I don't think the two bear any sort of comparison: Bay makes popcorn flicks, thrill rides - what I call movies, and he makes them extremely well. Kubrick sought to make something more, something more serious, more intelligent - what I call film, and to my mind Kubrick failed more often than not in his genre. That's really all there is to it. I do love 2001 though, I think because of its high technology premise and setting that its the one time Kubricks very mechanical and distancing technique worked in the favour of his story.
Stanley Kubrick: Boring
Arthur C Clarke has always maintained that the Black Slab in 2001: A Space Odyssey is a witness to evolutionary events. I know he wrote the script and everything, but he's clearly (on this one thing) a fucking idiot, because it CAUSES the events, it's not just some passive witness. I have always, always thought this, and nothing anyone (even the guy who wrote it!) has ever said or done will change my mind. Incidentally, 2001 is one of the very few Stanley Kubrick movies I've ever formed any real attachment with, or found much enjoyment within. I know its heresy to say this, but I find his movies dehumanised and detached to the point of disinterest, and I always feel they're exactly the sort of movies I'd make if I were a film-maker: technically competent, but missing the spark of humanity.
Awake!
For the first time today I actually feel awake and with some slight feeling of enthusiasm for the day! Shame its nearly seven o'clock really. And I have nothing to do and no-one to do it with.
Okay, this sucks, I'm goin' back to bed!
;p
V for Vendetta
I've just seen the trailer for the V for Vendetta movie, and I have to say that it looks pretty good (at least from what you can tell in a couple of minutes) although the proud boast of it being "from the creators of the Matrix Trilogy" was cause for a laugh - I'll have to ask Alan Moore what he thinks of that next time I bump into him... V is one of those stories that really does need to be told and told well right now, in a time when our national governments are using fear and the fear of terrorism as excuses to crack down on quaint notions like freedom of expression. As V himself says "People shouldn't fear their governments, governments should fear their people". At some point we apparently lost the plot politically, and now exist to serve the whims of our leaders, rather than our leaders serving us. I'm not saying that we shouldn't fight against terrorism, but you do not do that through ever more draconian laws restricting expression, thought, movement, the right to protest and so on... All those laws do is make me want to overthrow the government myself!
One more piece of V's wisdom that our law makers would do well to heed: "Did you think to kill me? There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There's only an idea. Ideas are bullet proof."
Full Of Shenanigans
So terrorists have struck again in the UK, or at least they tried. This bunch were clearly not the brains of the outfit as the explosive's they'd brought along had (apparently) degraded to the point were they no longer were explosives and were now just goo. The official reaction to all this has been prompt and decisive (well apart from Parliaments, who have decided to go on an eleven week holiday - that'll teach 'em!), and this morning undercover officers shot one of them dead on the underground. I'll tell you though, I'm surprised that there was a second wave, no matter how unsuccesful, and it does make you wonder how many more there may be, and also how people from such a priviliged country as this can end up feeling so disenfranchised that suicide bombing seems the right and appropriate thing to do. Oddly though, growing up in the seventies with the constant threats from both the IRA and nuclear annihilation, you learn to live with the imminent possibility of death, or at least I did. What's more uncomfortable than that is the sheer number of police and security everywhere you go, and the number of armed police you see too. That's pretty sad.
Sadder than all this though, is the knock-on effect which has stopped my pretty little Canadian from coming to see me this summer - that's a real blow to me, a real and almost crushing disappointment. But we're still committed to each other, and frankly I'm now more motivated than ever to find myself employed in almost any capacity - I need money and I need it NOW!
This morning when I was out paying bills (yay! I do so love that...) I bumped into someone who greeted me enthusiastically, chatted for a few breathless minutes, and then went on her way. And I have absolutely no idea who she was. I have the very vague feeling of almost recognising her, and for some reason I find myself thinking that her name is Vicki, but I honestly don't know who she is or where I might know her from. And now I never will, which is nice.
In other odd occurences, every lunchtime this week my phone has rung, and when I answer it whoever is calling hangs up. And they've blocked their number before you say anything, so I've no idea who it is and I can't call them back. I keep meaning to not answer it, so that maybe they'll leave a message, but I only ever remember that afterwards...
I don't really feel like writing anything right now though, I've only managed to get this far by sheer force of will. Remind me to talk about the manned space programme tomorrow, okay? Or y'know, don't, whichever suits you, I got a million rants...
The Post With No Name
Hey wouldja look at that! I've already applied for FOUR jobs this morning! Yay me!
This is good because this afternoon I once again I have to demonstrate to the PTBs that I am indeed worthy of the pittance they give me to stop me having to live on the streets - or worse, at my parents house! I always worry when I have to sign on, even though I know thousands of people do absolutely bugger all and somehow manage to get away with it, I just know I'm the guy who's gonna get caught, even when I'm trying (a little tiny bit!).
I saw Waterworld for the first time last night. I realise that makes me a decade later than everybody else, but there you go. It was... hmmm. Long? I dunno, I liked the Mariner cos he was a grumpy asshole, I liked the look of the film (the photography rather than the production design, cos that was just regulation post-apocalypse stuff), and I liked the sheer insanity of a production where things which should in any logical world be effects shots are clearly real things. But I'll admit to getting a bit bored towards the end and I don't really recall how it ended (well, I mean they found dry land, I just don't remember how we got there). It seemed okay though, possibly even slightly good, and certainly not worthy of the unholy kicking it received upon release. I've read of a directors cut which actually makes the world make some kind of sense, although in lots of ways I also liked the fact that it didn't bother to explain anything and the world just is as it is.
There's a bizarre campaign (started by one crazy old teacher) to do away with the concept of 'failure' at school, and instead bring in 'deferred success'. So it's nice to know that I'm not messing things up after all, I'm just deferring my success till a later date. Yay!
Attempted Mustache Failure
Every time I think I've reached the bottom of my fall I'm always amazed to discover there are yet further depths to plumb.
Today has been horrible, listless, depressed and tedious. It's consisted mainly of vodka and a very long bath (not that I was bathing in the vodka you understand, that'd be silly) in lieu of the enthusiasm or desire to do anything at all. Frankly if I could've stayed asleep all day I think I would've.
Although I wish it were so, I know there is no simple act of will that can pull me from this malaise. Things need to change, my situation needs to change, my life needs to change, but ah therein lies the rub, for these changes all require the vision to see which ones are useful and then the will to see them through. This is gonna be some hard shit to pull off.
Incidentally my mustache is actually perfectly succesful, but my beard-let is starting to get somewhat long and unruly, and I can't help but fiddle with it in my idle moments, of which there have been many of late.
First Times For A Few Things (But Not That, Not Yet)
I gotta say today hasn't been so bad at all. I found an interesting variety of jobs to apply for, none of which are in retail (hooray for me!), and then I seem to have spent the rest of the day doing remarkably little.
For reasons best known only to myself, I am currently watching Michael Bay's Pearl Harbor... I'd like to think that he was doing the Bay version of those hopelessly romantic war movies from the early 40s, but there's a part of me that fear's that maybe he thought it was just a really really good love story. I don't for one moment think he deserves the kind of vitriol he seems to attract - like it or not he has changed the way some kinds of movies are made. His most obvious influence has been on action movies, which he pretty much reinvented in the early 90s with Bad Boys after Sly and Arnie had turned the genre into a parody of itself. *notices he's sounding disturbingly like Pat Bateman* If nothing else, his movies always look beautiful and its a pleasure to spend a couple of hours in his world.
Okay, that's enough Bay defence for one day, onto other business.
I've spent the day commando and I have to say that it's very pleasant, very pleasant indeed. Never tried it before, but I do believe this could be the start of a new way of life... In another first I actually wanted a pair of flippies for the first time ever in my entire life, which was pretty surprising as I've always had a fairly strong "no flippies" stance in the past, for reasons which have eluded me.
I was supposed to be seeing Jules this morning, for a chat and coffee, but unsurprisingly she didn't show. *shocked face* Funny how when she needed money last week she could remember my phone number eh? That said, she's had a hard month, what with all the trouble at the hospital and the like (and to be honest that's somewhere between comedy and a horror story), and family givin' her hell, so I will, as always, give her the benefit of the doubt...
I'm insanely tired again today, still not sleeping right, and I didn't even have the energy to go for a run today, which is pretty rubbish. Let's hope that tomorrow I have a bit more oomph eh? Or at least the will-power to force myself to do it whether I want to or not.
*Exits pursued by bear*
Theory Of Everything
There is a theory gaining currency in my head that I'm falling apart because I can't accept the way my life has turned out.
This theory has a lot going for it: I was quite brilliant when I was younger, I was constantly learning new things and changing my perception of the world, and I expected big things of myself. And then SHE happened, and I let it all go wrong, very wrong indeed. Now I'm just a mess. I haven't learnt anything new in forever, and I seem to be entering a prolonged period f bitterness about how things turned out. In short, I'm letting myself get old. This is unacceptable.
This needs to be fixed, the situation as it exists needs to be accepted. Okay I'm never gonna be that ground-breaking theorist I expected, I'm not going to change the way people think about ANYTHING, I'm not going to be a professional astronomer, I must accept these things. You know what though? I don't have to abandon the sky, I still have a telescope, I'm still smarter than the average bear, so I should do something about that. I can still enjoy these things, even if they are not my profession. As for that, I still don't know what I'm gonna do for a living, but whatever it is I need to try and make something of it this time. I can't just be killing time here, not anymore. I need to stop waiting for things to happen and make them happen. Hell I'm not going to get another go at this whole "being alive" deal, so I really need to actually DO something with it this time. There are no rehearsals, this is going out live so you do not stop, you do not pause, you do not hesitate, and you most definitely cannot ask for another take.
Now I need to work out what I want to do, and do that, whatever it is. This, after all, is an adventure.
Too Tired To Think
I'm tired for reasons I really don't understand, and I mean tired deep down, so tired that I almost can't be bothered to think. I think most of it is down to the energy sapping effect of the heat, and the fact that I'm not sleeping at night (or during the day for that matter), but whatever the reason it's there, a tiredness that infects my very thoughts.
Killer 7 then.
I think anybody with even a passing interest in video-games should play it, without question, simply because it is a completely unique experience. On the other hand, having hot nails pushed under your fingernails is also a unique experience and not one that I suspect you will enjoy. Killer 7 can be a bit like that. See, its about the presentation, the cut scenes, the style first and foremost, and the gameplay is somewhere far down the list in terms of the developers priorities, somewhere after what they were gonna feed their cat that night. In a lot of ways, its just like Resident Evil - so you walk along, shoot enemies with an awkward and unresponsive control scheme that is completely inadequate for the level of action the game wants to throw at you, and solve puzzles that make no sense at all - so turn off the air conditioner, find the magic ring (yes, given to you by a head in a dryer) and light the candles (in order!) to open the cupboard... And for some reason you keep playing it, cos you do want to know what's gonna happen next, you do want to know the secrets behind the characters and why they are the way they are... but you probably don't want to keep playing the game, you just wish somebody would make a short film you could watch, which seems to be what the designers wanted to do as well, so the fact that you're playing their half-arsed game must be as much of a shock to them as it is to you. Nevertheless, play it you must. You might like it.
Much more pleasing in terms of a weekend purhcase was the DVD release of Constantine. Now in so many ways it is completely and utterly wrong as an adaptation of the comic book - Constantine is now American, the action takes place in LA, his back story has been changed beyond all recognition - and yet it is also extremely faithful to the book in terms of style and feel. Sure Jude Law would've been utterly perfect as the REAL John Constantine, but Keanu Reeves is also perfect as THIS Constantine. In fact I watched the movie twice yesterday, and watched all the special features in between. I'm not saying its a great and classic work or anything, but its a really good Constantine movie and for that I thank it. And for some reason I find Tilda Swinton almost unbearably erotic in it - it might be the wings...
Next week I really need to DO something with my life, or at least start to do something. I know what I'm doing, I'm waiting for
her, and whilst I know she's coming (and soon if all goes according to plan) I can't just sit here and do nothing. My life needs some purpose to it, some direction, so reason, and as its mine and mine alone, I guess its up to me to provide it. Wish me luck!
Atrophied National Pride
As regular readers will know... what do you mean I don't have any regular readers? If there's nobody reading how are you interupting? Hmm? Didn't think of that did you? Not as smart as you thought eh?... Now,where were we... Ahh yes. As my (allegedly fictional) regualr readers will know I am all too infrequently proud to be British, but today I felt what I believe was the feeble stirring of my atrophied national pride. One week after the terrorist attacks on London, the nation observed a two minute silence as a mark of respect. And guess what? We all did. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and went outside their home or place of business (even the Queen stood outside Buck house) in open defiance of the terrorists, and stood in silent reflection for two minutes. I myself went outside, and my neighbours were all out there too, and they're old (no seriously, for some of them standing in the beating sun for two minutes is pretty hard). In fact I'm pretty proud of the way the country has reacted as a whole, there's been remarkably little racial viciousness, and we have not been cowed to any appreciable degree. Like I said, I'm not often proud to be British, but in the face of a crisis I don't know as there's any other country I'd rather be in, cos we handle them pretty well.
In other news... well the postman came to deliver my copy of Killer 7 in the twenty minutes I was out this afternoon (and what the hell time for the post to come is 1pm anyway? I'd waited in all morning cos I was expecting him...), which is pretty annoying - I'll have to go fetch it tomorrow. I have also finally watched the Godfather. For years and years I couldn't get into it (I think the last time I tried I was like 17 though, so that was a long time ago) and then I just gave up. So today I sat down to watch it, and did! Yay me! To be fair though, it was a very enjoyable movie, although I don't quite see what exactly all the fuss is about... I mean it was a great film, and is clever in so far as its a family saga first, and the family just happens to be a mafia family, so it's a crime drama second, and it is pretty much faultless over all (the performances, direction, set design... the whole thing is just sooooooooo atmosperic). I suspect the sequels (number 2 especially) add breadth and depth, and create a true saga, but so far my feeling is that Apocalypse Now is the better film. Looking at Copolla's directorial output though, its clear that his reputation is built upon these two movies, cos there really isn't anything else of consequence in there (although to be fair, I've never achieved anything!), but then I think anybody'd be pleased to have directed either one of them.
I'm sure there was something else I was going to say, but it's slipped my mind. If it comes back to me (and is even slightly interesting) then I'll post it later. For now, cold drink-wards!
Global Warming Sucks
Hell's donkeys it hot out there. I went out to get more cooling drinks (Pepsi, Sprite and lots of juice), not to mention many many ice lollies (and sorbet, which I forgot). I also spent a goodly portion of my weekly food budget on a t-shirt (its a COOL t-shirt though), and then me and a stranger harrangued another total stranger for the appalling job they were doing attempting to reverse into a parking space in a virtually empty car-park (they had chosen literally the only space with cars on either side, and I'm fairly certain they were gonna hit the Mercedes, but I lost interest and came home rather than watch). And now I'm home again, appreciating the slightly less soul destroying heat of being indoors by the fan. Phew.
Omm The Great Spider God
Omm the Great Spider God lives under my wheelie bin. This is extremely bad news for me. As you know I am a card carrying arachnophobe (well, that's a lie, I don't have a card), so meeting this beast - so large you could put a saddle on it and ride it like a malicious eight-legged horse from hell - was not a fun experience. Although to be fair, it lives outside and seems content to stay there. If the smaller house spiders that I slaughter on an almost daily basis had the sense to send out some sort of envoy to The Great Spider God and actually get it to come into the house... well I'd have no choice but to gather some precious belongings, set fire to the place, and go and live in my car. Maybe even nuke the place from orbit, just to be sure.
Other than that remarkably little happened yesterday. For reasons which escape me channel five cancelled the advertised episodes of CSI (Quentin Tarantinos no less, which had pretty much been the focus of the entire day) "as a mark of respect to those who lost their lives on Thursday", and instead showed some much nicer episodes, one featuring a murderous surgeon who cut his victims into very small neat pieces, and the other a body that'd turned to soap in a barrel... like anybody recently bereaved was gonna be watching CSI to cheer themselves up anyway.
NASA is supposedly getting the shuttle programme back underway again today, although its nice to know its as hi-tech as ever - apparently a window just FELL OUT and damaged some of the heat shield. Now, as I'm sure we all remember, it was ice damaging the heat shield which lead to the Columbia tragedy so I myself wouldn't be keen to get on the Discovery today myself. Also, A WINDOW FELL OUT! Fucking hell, the windows don't fall out of my CAR, I wouldn't be too keen to go to space in something the windows fall out of. I hope this mission goes okay, cos if it don't the manned space-flight programme is finished. Also I don't really want any more astronauts (or anybody for that matter) to be blown up. It's been a bad week for people being blown up.
Its a third day of ridiculous heat and stunning lethargy today. I've no idea what I'm gonna do, although I do have to go out and put a cheque in the bank (a much needed cheque, I might add - the financial situation here is really going down the toilet...), so I suppose I'll be doing that, and then coming home and collapsing in a puddle. Yay!
Murdering War of the Worlds
Okay, I realise that my last post kinda left things in a difficult place, what with London being blown up the next morning and all. Suffice to say that, due an unexpected hangover on the part of my travelling companion for the day we missed our train, and were therefore saved. That's a kinda flippant summary of how I feel about the whole thing, cos really although I wasn't physically close to the event, I was in a causal sense close to the event in a "y'know, if I'd been on the trian I was supposed to be on..." kinda way. But I wasn't on that train. Also its not like I have any casual readers who just stop by on the off-chance - the people (or more accurately person - Hi Emily!) who read this know I'm fine. Just thought I'd mention it anyway.
I think it's pretty funny the way the media have been criticizing the police over this too - the media seem to think that just because the police won't tell THEM anything, that they somehow haven't actually done anything. I mean, seriously, how stupid are you guys? C'mon, do you honestly not understand the idea of secrecy? Whatever the police have been up to, you'll find out about it slightly after the guys they're after do. Idiots.
So, ermmmm, what've I been up to? What've YOU been up to? No I really haven't done a great deal of anything the past few days, and I need to start getting things moving again. Somewhere along the line I lost all my momentum, and I'm finding it hard to get it all back again. Still, I'll get there eh?
I saw Spielberg's War of the Worlds. Go on, ask me what I thought of it? What was that? What did I think of it? Glad you asked...
Okay, while I was sitting in the theatre watching it, I was really enjoying it, but pretty much the second the credits started to roll my mind started to pick fault with it until now I can (and in all probability will) rant about it for hours without even pausing for breath. Okay, firstly and most obviously, David Koepps script is bollocks. H G Well's original novel, and to be honest both Welles' radio play in, what, 1938 and the George Pal produced 1953 version used the story to explore the fears of the time. The original novel in particular is a treatise on the arrogance of colonialism, which was at the time apt for the UK, and is now equally apt for the USA. Koepp's script (like all his scripts to be honest) is utterly devoid of subtext, being constructed purely to thrill, like a rollercoaster. But even on that level, it just falls to pieces by ignoring its own rules. If the EMP put out all electrical equipment, why does that digital camera still work? How exactly does Robbie survie the total and complete vapourisation of the hillside with the army on it? Why couldn't the tripods be arsed to destroy that one neighbourhood in Boston? How come, when the plane falls (apparently vertically - and where are all the bodies?) onto Tim & Mary's house, utterly destroying the neighbourhood, how come Rays stolen van is okay? And oh look, a convenient path through the wreckage - again. What is so important about Ogilvy's basement that the aliens search it THREE times in the space of a few hours? And as for the aliens, well okay, kudos for keeping the tripods themselves, but why exactly are the aliens themselves tripedal? That smacks of lazy design to me, too cute for its own good - it's like assuming that we have tracks cos we find tanks to be the most efficient design for a war machine. And speaking of too cute, the aliens themselves are kinda cute and cuddly looking aren't they, with their big dark eyes? The human characters are no better though, Ray has no character arc at all (he starts out and asshole, and ends up an asshole, and is a selfish murdering asshole in the middle) Rachel is claustrophobic (apparently) but then we don't do anything with that at all, for reasons that are quite beyond comprehension Robbie wants to go closer to the tripods because he can... what exactly? As for the mass of common humanity... people just don't act like that in a crisis. Trust me, we've all seen the odd crisis lately, and what happens is that people HELP one another, they don't pull guns on each other, or fight like animals - oddly a crisis brings the best out of us, and makes us compassionate towards our fellow man. So the human characters do things that make no sense - like Ray taking his family to Boston (because what? Mary can end the invasion and make everybody safe? Boston isn't a major city and the aliens won't be bothered to destroy it?), or everybody's peculiar desire to get on the ferry. Now I know WHY they want to get on the ferry, so the movie can reference (ever so gently) the Thunderchild sequence from the original novel, but in this context it doesn't make any sense. Oh no! The Tripods are coming! Let's all crowd onto a slow moving ferry and make ourselves an easier target! Seriously, I can swim faster than that bloody thing, so what was the point? And another thing... Ray murdering Ogilvy. Why? Why not just leave? I mean, he did give you and your daughter shelter in his own home, I think murdering him is the only thing good enough for him. Okay he wanted to fight back, good thought y'know, but he was talking about digging a fucking tunnel to New York, I don't really think he's that dangerous. Also, HOW exactly did Ray take him? I mean, Tim Robbins is like a foot taller and must have fifty pounds on Tom, not to mention the fact that Ogilvy had a shovel and a shotgun. I don't like Ray's chances when he closes that door. Speaking of ridiculous sequences, what was with Ray being sucked up an aliens ass there? And why was it organic anyway? And wasn't it lucky that the aliens just gave up on him rather than having him blown up along with the tripod? At least we can rely on Spielbergs direction to keep things taught and interesting, even when it makes no logical sense, although there's nothing here that you haven't seen before from a visual stand point, which is itself disappointing, cos if there's two things Steven knows how to do its shoot something in a way you've never seen it before, and ruin the ending. Well in this case, he's only batting a .500, cos he does ruin the ending (ooooo look, the aliens came to Boston and knocked over the litter bins!). To be fair, there are a number of bravura sequences in the movie, but its largely a Spielbergs greatest hits compliation, with moments from most of his other blockbuster popcorn flicks transposed into this one, as well as referencing some of his more serious work (most obviously Schindlers List). So, all that said, should you see this? Who knows, I know a lot of people who really reckon it, and I know I enjoyed it while I was watching it, but I also know that as soon as I looked away it revealed itself to be little more than an elaborate trick. Maybe I just expected too much from what I am being repeatedly told is "just a summer popcorn flick". All I know is that I wanted more than the movie ultimately delivered.
Sugar Crash
A woman who is dressed as if for the Arctic has just walked past my window. Seriously, big coat, hood up, huge insulated boots, mittens... I know it's not a beautiful day here, but its July y'know, and it's a clear evening and reasonably warm. I suppose she is an old person...
Today has been pretty interesting. I succesfully managed to get through my signing on this morning, despite not actually having done anything to look for work in the past two weeks, and then I spent the rest of the day sequentially chatting to one person after another, and I myself have been almost hyperactive - like I had too much sugar and caffeine, so I've been in a much better mood than I have been for the past couple of days.
In other news London somehow won the right to stage the Olympic games of 2012, which is suddenly very exciting. Nobody in Britain gave much of a toss about it until just before 1pm today when we'd suddenly beaten the French and now had to put on some sort of show... Of course, there is still a lot of annoyance about the fact that its in bloody London, and yet its going to end up costing the entire country, but that's just the way it is. I fully expect the French to be real pains in the arse now though - I mean they've been a nuisance in Europe ever since the referendum fiasco, but now they've lost this too... I reckon we're gonna have our hands full during our presidency of both the G8 and the EU. Bloody French.
Now I'm suddenly starting to feel unexpectedly tired, so whatever thoughts I may have had will have to be expressed at a later date.
Oh yeah and I'm going to London on a shopping trip tomorrow, so don't expect an update tomorrow either. I suspect normal service will be returned on Friday.
This Is An Adventure
I don't know what to write here today. I kinda had some thoughts about stuff, I was gonna talk about the deep impact probe and the appalling quality of science journalism in the media, but its just another of my typical rants about why everybody sucks, so I'll probably leave it.
My Wes Anderson mini-festival continued well yesterday with Bottle Rocket, Andersons first film. Visually its actually pretty mainstream, in fact it's very mainstream, you don't see a great deal of the oddness and self-created worlds that define his later work, but the characters themselves and the story, they're very obviously him (and Owen, obviously), a group of outsiders who live in their own little world... Its funny, charming, and uplifting, so it's pretty much like all his other movies in that respect. Then I watched The Life Aquatic... again, which is just amazing in every detail. So that made me happy.
This morning I was having another weird dream, but I don't really remember what it was anymore, although I know it was interesting enough that I tried to go back to sleep again to find out how it ended... but that never works.
It's just barely the afternoon, and I'm bored, already having done most of the things I need to do today, and unable to quite summon the energy to commit to the things I should be doing. I hate this whole lacklustre lost thing thats going on, I wish I could find the energy and enthusiasm for things I had earlier in the summer. It probably didn't seem like it from where you're sitting, and given what you're hearing, but I was doing pretty well. Now things just suck.
I want to go to the movies this afternoon and see War of the Worlds, but I can't find anybody who wants to go with me, so I'll probably just sit here and wallow in misery. 'Cos that's always productive...
This is an adventure? Pft
The Life Pathetic With Steve Allen
So I was watching The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou last night (yet another amazing Wes Anderson movie), and it occured to me that maybe I don't like the sea as much as I think I do. I've always thought what I liked about being on the coast was the sea, its immensity and majesty and all that, but I'm starting to think that maybe what I like is the coast itself. Its an inbetween place, the border between land and sea, a place where land things end up in the sea, and sea things end up on the land, and the border between the two is always shifting. I like border places. Of course, this might all just be the random bullshit thoughts from a tedious Sunday, so we'll take it under advisement and see how I feel about it later on down the line. I still want to go to the seaside though.
Yesterday was rubbish and depressing and just wrong. I even went to bed early (despite there being a movie I wanted to see) and I really did sleep last night. I had this odd dream where I met Jessica Biel, and she was really nice. Oddly she seemed to know a lot about constructing scaffolding, I remember having to climb down some scaffolding to get down from wherever it was I'd been, and meeting her on the way up... Weird dreams.
Today has started pretty well, despite the late start. I've been for a bike ride, and in a bit I'm gonna do some cleaning, and then I'm off to get some grocery shoppin and scope out a replacement vacuum cleaner... Oh yes, it will be a truly remarkable and thrilling day.
;p
Fear Of A Crap Title
Pink Floyd. What the fuck? I say again, what kinda reality do we live in where The Killers get one song, and Pink Floyd, who admittedly haven't played together for twenty-four years, get over half an hour!? I'm not even listening to them now, I've never liked Pink Floyd one little bit - I find their muso leanings and endless twiddling utterly tiresome - in fact the only band I've ever allowed to have ten minute solo's was The Doors, and thats because they were great and also taking the sort of drugs that made them interesting, whereas the Floyd were clearly on the sort of things that made them THINK they were interesting... and let's not even get started on 'concept albums'... here's a concept for you: interesting music & decent songs! Of course this is just the first leg on Pink Floyd's inevitable "We Want More Money For Our Old Age" comeback tour (cynical? puh-lease, don't embarrass yourself). So anyway I'm not listening to Pink Floyd, I'm over here typing this and oddly listening to The Divine Comedy (I've had this craving to hear National Express all day). Ah they've gone now, and Sir Paul McCartney is on now, nice to see that they're keeping it real for the kids eh?
I have this theory that the Beatles are dying in reverse order of talent, which explains why John died so much sooner than the rest of them. Then George a couple of years back, and I guess Paul will be next... and Ringo will not only outlive us all, he'll be the last thing alive on the planet when the sun finally goes out. Who's being mean??? Oh me, yeah, quite right.
Speaking of the sad deaths of musicians, Luther Vandross died yesterday. One day I'll go through a list of what certain pivotal musicians taught me over my formative years, but for now I'll just say this: Luther taught me how to love, to be romantic and to treat my woman right. I'll miss him, although his music will always be with me.
Say What?
In what world is it fair that the Killers get one song, and yet Velvet fuckin' Revolver get three!? And Scott Weiland should put his shirt back on, he's mistaken if he thinks anybody wants to see anything that unpleasant... and speaking of Scott Weiland being mistaken, what's with that fuckin' hat?
Make Poverty History... Motherfuckers!
So we're about, what three quarters of the way through the UK portion of Live8, and I'm still fairly disappointed I didn't get tickets. Highlight so far has to be Snoop Dogg being broadcast live and unedited at 6pm on BBC One in all his motherfucking glory. Seriously, until he'd been on everybody had been really good language wise, but Snoop D O Double Gee comes on motherfucking here and niggering there for a solid fifteen minutes, and suddenly all bets are off, and Johnny Borrell is swearing, Madonna is swearing (and I thought she was a reformed character)... its a proud moment in British broadcasting history. The thing is, I will almost guarantee you, that somebody (probably lots of somebodies) will write in to complain! They should be offended by the fact that every three seconds a child starves to death in Africa, not by somebody saying "motherfucker" on tv, but then people are impossibly small minded fuckwits...
Still, for all that its impossible NOT to get caught up in Geldof's righteous fury, I still can't help but wonder whether this will really make any difference. I mean, I think that raising awareness of the issue is incredibly important, and I hope it DOES make a difference, but I honestly doubt that it will, at least not in the short term of actually affecting the G8 summit. I hope it'll bring about a new political conciousness though, and that people will start to see that they have genuine power. Remember, during the British general election there were NO issues of any kind, and the previous US Presidential election was equally vapid and bland... similarly both Blair and Bush are essentially lame ducks, they're on their way out and don't have the political clout they once did. Also, the Russians couldn't care less - they're getting more paranoid and isolationist almost by the minute, there is nothing in it for the Americans... the French, as the other former colonial power, aren't all that interested in debt cancellation either... I'd love to think that a popular groundswell of support could actually make something worthwhile happen here, and I'm really sorry to have ANY cynicism about something like this, but there it is. Also I think the vast majority of people think cancelling the debt and doubling aid is something that is without consequence, and its not gonna be that easy. We shouldn't be afraid to sacrifice a little of our quality of life to help others, but I'm afraid that when it comes down to it we're all just gonna bottle it and keep the status quo - I don't think people have ever, as a body, voted for what's best for everyone, they only vote for their own self-interest. Let us hope that I am wrong though, and that tomorrow the world is a better place.
Oh yeah, and backstage story wise, apparently Ricky Gervais (star of The Office) met Brad Pitt backstage, who went over to Gervais, held out his hand and said "Hi, I'm Brad" with exactly the sort of bizarre humility I'd always hoped he would. Gervais, naturally, said "I know who you are... Do you want to be in my new show?". Famous people eh? They're just like us (but richer, and in Brad's case, much better looking).
Serial Thrilla!
Okay so whilst I was at Morrison's (a new supermarket - I have such exotic travels eh?) I decided that I'm not a serial killer at all, my sex drive is repressed not twisted, and the impulse to hurt people who annoy me is perfectly normal, it's just expressing it that is abnormal. So I'm all good.
Then on the way back I started to wonder what'd happen if I pressed the "lock" button on my car keys while I was still inside the car, in fact what would happen if the car itself was still moving... but I restrained the urge to find out. So I guess it's a day for wondering peculiar things...
;p
If He Were A Mime He'd Already Be Dead
Man alive I am bored already, and today has barely begun!
Seriously though, what the hell? What am I gonna do with yet another day? There seem to be altogether too many of them in a row - we should get a break somewhere where there isn't a day and I don't have to feel like this. That'd be nice.
Hmmm so let's see. The other night I was watching a programme on TV about why the British love a loser, and in fact why we find it rather vulgar to win anything, and if we do by some freak occurence win, why we try and pass it off as luck. Now seems to me you don't have to look all that far, that's the Victorians for you right there, and more specifically their attitude towards sport. See, once upon a long ago, when we'd just invented cricket and the colonies hadn't started to beat us at it, there were two types of people who played cricket: gentlemen and players. Gentlemen, quite obviously, were wealthy professional men who played for the love of the game, and players were professional cricketers who played to get paid. Clearly, getting
paid to play a game was very un-gentlemanly, and so players (who obviously comprised the vast majority of the foreign teams from the colonies) were not popular due to their obvious vulgarity. I also doubt any other country in the world would have spawned the phrase "It's not the winning, it's the taking part" as some sort of maxim. It's weird though, I mean we nationally support the "plucky brit" who embarks on some foolhardy project with absolutely no idea what they're up against, and yet when we have people who kick arse at whatever walk of life they've chosen, we tend to if not belittle them then certainly down-play their achievements. I shall provide two examples: Dame Ellen McArthur, the worlds leading solo yachts woman, who nobody really pays any great attention to, and Eddie Edwards, the worlds worst ski-jumper, who for a brief period back in the mid-90s was a media celebrity without compare, based purely on his almost tragic inability to ski-jump (and I do mean almost tragic, how he didn't kill himself is beyond me). He hit the chat show circuit, had a hit record, wrote a book about his non-achievement, did the lecture circuit... and why exactly?? Because for some reason we, as a nation, took him to our hearts, because he was a "plucky brit". He had, for instance, never actually ski-jumped in his life until he was in the Olympic finals, because there weren't any near where he lived, and he obviously never actually went to any countries where there were because that would've been too much like effort. Nope, he practiced in his drive way, and yet still expected to go out there and win a gold medal against competitors who'd been jumping since they were children, simply because they were foreign and clearly not as good as us Brits. To my mind though, he wasn't a hero of any kind, he was a fucking embarrasment, he was actually making his nation look bad in front of the entire world. I don't think he was brave, I think he was fool-hardy. Of course if he'd actually have been any GOOD, then the tabloids wouldn't have been supporting him, they'd have been looking for ways to destroy him, but there you go, I've never quite understood this country...
My word that was a long and pointless rant. lol
In other news I didn't get tickets to Live8, so I suspect I'll watch it on TV, although my copy of The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou came this morning and I really want to see that... I also need to go out and get some sort of food into the house, but I'm tired and I can't really be bothered, although I know I'll regret this laziness at some point in the very near future.
I'm sure I had other things I wanted to talk about (my fear of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie producing a child, for instance, a child so physically perfect it would dazzle us all and would eventually rule the earth with a perfect fist of iron, why Tom Cruise needs to keep his fucking mouth shut in public, and why I'm wondering if I'm a potential serial killer...), but this post is already far too long, so I'm sure I'll come back to them later.
