As per the first installment; April - June 2009.
1. L’Armée des Ombres
2. George Washington
3. Anchorman
4. Pretty in Pink (PCC double bill)
5. The Breakfast Club (PCC double bill)
6. Wendy & Lucy
7. Watchmen
8. The Vanishing (Dutch/French version)
9. Bully
10. Evil Dead
11. The Blair Witch Project
12. Juno
13. Little Miss Sunshine
14. Mean Streets
15. True Stories (BFI)
16. Point Break (PCC)
17. Bubba Ho-Tep
18. Hot Fuzz
19. Hostel
20. Cabin Fever
21. Evil Dead 2
22. If…
23. Severance
24. The Machinist
25. Jackie Brown
26. Mean Creek
27. My Bloody Valentine (original)
28. Die Welle (The Wave)
29. 17 Again
30. Punishment Park
31. Frightmare
32. The Fall
33. Halloween
34. The Crazies
35. Eraserhead
36. Being There
37. Switchblade Romance
38. The Hills Have Eyes (2006)
39. Let The Right One In
40. Suspiria
41. The Night Listener
42. The Amityville Horror
43. My Girl
44. Star Trek
45. Tropic Thunder
46. HSM3
47. Blue Velvet
48. Army of Darkness
49. Schizo
50. Audition (PCC)
51. An American Werewolf In London
52. The Shining
53. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me
54. The Hills Have Eyes (1977)
55. Eden Lake
56. Drag Me To Hell
57. Wizard of Gore
58. The Descent
59. Hostel II
60. Friday 13th
61. The Gruesome Twosome
62. The Darjeeling Ltd
63. Rushmore
64. Nightwatch
65. The Story of Ricky, or Riki-Oh
66. Rosemary’s Baby
67. Camp Rock
68. The Hangover
69. Tokyo Zombie
70. The Happiness of the Katakuris
71. Children of Men
72. Battle Royale
73. Son of Rambow
74. Martyrs
75. Star Trek
76. The Toxic Avenger
77. The Brood (UK version)
Major shouts in this quarter to The Vanishing and Martyrs, which both quickly made my Fucked Up Films list; Star Trek for being a great blockbustery movie (finally! I think the previous blockbuster-type films I'd seen were Watchmen and Dark Knight, neither of which I rated much); Evil Dead for being Evil Dead (can you believe I'd never seen any of them before?) and Halloween - which I'd also never seen - and was one of the first films in quite a while to genuinely scare me. Kudos, John Carpenter.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
early morning adventure
So it's 7am, I walk into Russell Square tube station on early-morning-autopilot. Get into the lift which will take me down to the platform level to get the Piccadilly line to work. Three other people get in as well - that early, the station is relatively quiet.
The lift descends. The lift announcer tells us we're at platform level, and to turn right for both East and West-bound trains. The doors start to open.
That's as far as they get. About a centimetre open. Then - bang. They slam shut again. And repeat - open a crack, machinery grinding - before they slam shut.
Fabulous. Doors stuck.
I roll my eyes. We all stand there for about five minutes, fully aware the doors seem to be broken, waiting for a member of staff to respond. Finally someone speaks to us over the lift intercom. They're sending someone down.
A couple minutes later and we can hear the staff members on the other side of the doors. They start to open again, and it sounds as if the employees are trying to drag the doors open with their hands. Even I could've told you that's not going to work. They try the doors the other side - these lifts having exits both sides, for crowd control. No dice.
We've now been down here about half an hour, probably. Time is ticking on. What started off being vaguely amusing is getting kind of annoying. A voice over the intercom asks us if we're alright. The other woman in the elevator starts getting lary with them. She's going to be late for work. Aren't we all, honey.
My phone starts to ring. Reception at the bottom of the lift shaft? I had no idea. It's my sister. She starts rabbiting on about Buffy, of all things. I tell her we're stuck in the lift and I'll call her later, then hang up. Offer my phone to the others in there with me - the lady takes it, calls her office to say she's stuck and going to be late. An American guy tells us he's on his way to Heathrow. Gonna miss that plane.
More sounds of struggle from the outside of the lifts. Perhaps the TFL staff have thought to get a crowbar or something, to pry the doors open? Nope, they're just pressing buttons. Excellent. Well done. They tell us there's an emergency hatch, but someone has to go and get the key. Okay, we'll wait. Not like we've got anything else to do.
Ten minutes later and we hear someone behind the wall panels, in the shaft between our elevator and the neighbouring one (there being three lifts in total at Russell Square station). They talk among themselves, seem to fiddle with something, leave again.
Good. Not getting anywhere quickly. This whole experience is not doing much to restore the very little faith I had in TFL.
Eventually the lift starts to move, back up to street level. The intercom tells us the fire brigade have been called. Fucking finally. Why didn't they do this 45 minutes ago?
Though annoyed and pissed off that I'm now going to be marvellously late for work, having gotten up so early, I realise my palms are a little sweaty now we've just been hauled 100 foot back up the lift shaft, and it's still broken. If they're going to piss around with the mechanics of the elevator I'm stuck in, I'm damn sure I'd rather it was sat at the bottom of the shaft on the ground than suspended that high up.
More crashing and banging from outside and suddenly an emergency hatch in the wall opposite me swings open.
'You alright in there?'
Fuck no we're not. We've been in here an hour and a half, almost. The American who's missing his plane is really pissed off, the other guy is rolling his eyes, the lady is on the verge of a panic attack, I'm annoyed and a little jumpy.
It's a mechanic. He swings in through the narrow emergency escape doorway, reaches back out and pulls across a ladder, that now bridges the gap between our elevator and the roof of the neighbouring one that has been specially lowered.
So let me get this straight. Our lift is a few feet below street level. The lift next to us is a few feet below us, so that the roof of that lift is just above the floor of ours. A fireman's ladder now crosses the echoing 100 foot drop between us. And they want us to crawl across that ladder, stand on the roof of the next lift, then climb another ladder from the roof of that to street level.
You have GOT to be joking.
The mechanic passes all our bags to the fireman opposite who passes them to street level. Then we're off. The other lady goes first, crawling across the ladder to a waiting fireman, who puts her over his shoulder, swings her round to the ladder to street level. Now me (what gallant gentlemen we're sharing the stuck lift with!). Just keep reminding myself not to look down. Don't look down... Get to the other lift. Eschew the offer of the fireman's shoulder for finding my own footing. Climb the other ladder, get to solid ground... and suddenly my hands are shaking so badly I can't even hold the cup of water I'm offered.
Holy crap what a ridiculous morning.
I just about manage to text my sister to tell her we're finally out, but it takes twice as long as usual, my hands are too shaky to hit the right keys. I want to just head back home - 60 seconds away, round the corner - but my sister, who stayed over, currently has my house keys.
The TFL staff jump into action, and, bless them, are actually very good. They offer us water and sweet tea or coffee, they write us letters to take to work or airlines so we've proof of why we're late and can get money back if necessary. They call us cabs to take us where we need to get to (like hell I'm getting back on the Tube this morning). I discover they've had to shut the whole flipping station down while we've been stuck which is, I have to admit, kind of awesome (the grilles are down and Russell Square being as busy a station as it is, the crowds are packed outside).
I jump in a cab down to Waterloo and get the mainline back West to work. The shakes eventually stop (I'm slightly disappointed with myself, I thought I was made of stronger stuff), and it's rather fun reciting the story to everyone (people take delight in telling me "Ohmigod it's like Speed or something!" Yes, without Dennis Hopper as mad bomber or any rescuer remotely as hot as Keanu Reeves).
End up bunking off work early as I feel I've had quite enough adventures for one day and there's a latent headache that's been building since the mechanic pulled the ladder into the lift about to explode, so go back to my parents' (a mere 10 minute bus ride from my work, and no elevators or tube trains involved!) and resolve from now on I'll forego the lifts and take the stairs at Russell Square every time, even if there are 177 of them.
The lift descends. The lift announcer tells us we're at platform level, and to turn right for both East and West-bound trains. The doors start to open.
That's as far as they get. About a centimetre open. Then - bang. They slam shut again. And repeat - open a crack, machinery grinding - before they slam shut.
Fabulous. Doors stuck.
I roll my eyes. We all stand there for about five minutes, fully aware the doors seem to be broken, waiting for a member of staff to respond. Finally someone speaks to us over the lift intercom. They're sending someone down.
A couple minutes later and we can hear the staff members on the other side of the doors. They start to open again, and it sounds as if the employees are trying to drag the doors open with their hands. Even I could've told you that's not going to work. They try the doors the other side - these lifts having exits both sides, for crowd control. No dice.
We've now been down here about half an hour, probably. Time is ticking on. What started off being vaguely amusing is getting kind of annoying. A voice over the intercom asks us if we're alright. The other woman in the elevator starts getting lary with them. She's going to be late for work. Aren't we all, honey.
My phone starts to ring. Reception at the bottom of the lift shaft? I had no idea. It's my sister. She starts rabbiting on about Buffy, of all things. I tell her we're stuck in the lift and I'll call her later, then hang up. Offer my phone to the others in there with me - the lady takes it, calls her office to say she's stuck and going to be late. An American guy tells us he's on his way to Heathrow. Gonna miss that plane.
More sounds of struggle from the outside of the lifts. Perhaps the TFL staff have thought to get a crowbar or something, to pry the doors open? Nope, they're just pressing buttons. Excellent. Well done. They tell us there's an emergency hatch, but someone has to go and get the key. Okay, we'll wait. Not like we've got anything else to do.
Ten minutes later and we hear someone behind the wall panels, in the shaft between our elevator and the neighbouring one (there being three lifts in total at Russell Square station). They talk among themselves, seem to fiddle with something, leave again.
Good. Not getting anywhere quickly. This whole experience is not doing much to restore the very little faith I had in TFL.
Eventually the lift starts to move, back up to street level. The intercom tells us the fire brigade have been called. Fucking finally. Why didn't they do this 45 minutes ago?
Though annoyed and pissed off that I'm now going to be marvellously late for work, having gotten up so early, I realise my palms are a little sweaty now we've just been hauled 100 foot back up the lift shaft, and it's still broken. If they're going to piss around with the mechanics of the elevator I'm stuck in, I'm damn sure I'd rather it was sat at the bottom of the shaft on the ground than suspended that high up.
More crashing and banging from outside and suddenly an emergency hatch in the wall opposite me swings open.
'You alright in there?'
Fuck no we're not. We've been in here an hour and a half, almost. The American who's missing his plane is really pissed off, the other guy is rolling his eyes, the lady is on the verge of a panic attack, I'm annoyed and a little jumpy.
It's a mechanic. He swings in through the narrow emergency escape doorway, reaches back out and pulls across a ladder, that now bridges the gap between our elevator and the roof of the neighbouring one that has been specially lowered.
So let me get this straight. Our lift is a few feet below street level. The lift next to us is a few feet below us, so that the roof of that lift is just above the floor of ours. A fireman's ladder now crosses the echoing 100 foot drop between us. And they want us to crawl across that ladder, stand on the roof of the next lift, then climb another ladder from the roof of that to street level.
You have GOT to be joking.
The mechanic passes all our bags to the fireman opposite who passes them to street level. Then we're off. The other lady goes first, crawling across the ladder to a waiting fireman, who puts her over his shoulder, swings her round to the ladder to street level. Now me (what gallant gentlemen we're sharing the stuck lift with!). Just keep reminding myself not to look down. Don't look down... Get to the other lift. Eschew the offer of the fireman's shoulder for finding my own footing. Climb the other ladder, get to solid ground... and suddenly my hands are shaking so badly I can't even hold the cup of water I'm offered.
Holy crap what a ridiculous morning.
I just about manage to text my sister to tell her we're finally out, but it takes twice as long as usual, my hands are too shaky to hit the right keys. I want to just head back home - 60 seconds away, round the corner - but my sister, who stayed over, currently has my house keys.
The TFL staff jump into action, and, bless them, are actually very good. They offer us water and sweet tea or coffee, they write us letters to take to work or airlines so we've proof of why we're late and can get money back if necessary. They call us cabs to take us where we need to get to (like hell I'm getting back on the Tube this morning). I discover they've had to shut the whole flipping station down while we've been stuck which is, I have to admit, kind of awesome (the grilles are down and Russell Square being as busy a station as it is, the crowds are packed outside).
I jump in a cab down to Waterloo and get the mainline back West to work. The shakes eventually stop (I'm slightly disappointed with myself, I thought I was made of stronger stuff), and it's rather fun reciting the story to everyone (people take delight in telling me "Ohmigod it's like Speed or something!" Yes, without Dennis Hopper as mad bomber or any rescuer remotely as hot as Keanu Reeves).
End up bunking off work early as I feel I've had quite enough adventures for one day and there's a latent headache that's been building since the mechanic pulled the ladder into the lift about to explode, so go back to my parents' (a mere 10 minute bus ride from my work, and no elevators or tube trains involved!) and resolve from now on I'll forego the lifts and take the stairs at Russell Square every time, even if there are 177 of them.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
super freak
Our first BBQ of the season was spent mostly inside due to the English weather, so we got the dancing monkey to entertain us...
(We have *no* idea where he picked up The Robot from)
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Idol soundbites
Clare: I think Adam Lambert is the future-
Jasmin: -No, the past, present AND future – of music.
Clare: I love him more than any reality star ever.
Jasmin: I think I might love him more than Same Difference
Clare: I really want to lick his face.
Jasmin: -No, the past, present AND future – of music.
Clare: I love him more than any reality star ever.
Jasmin: I think I might love him more than Same Difference
Clare: I really want to lick his face.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
500th post
Gosh, the 500th blog post. Hadn't even noticed that this thing passed its 5th birthday, either.
In honour of both, a clip of one of my favourite scenes from True Stories, which we saw tonight at the BFI. I hadn't seen it in years and had forgotten most of it - especially how much I loved it. What a great film.
(Click here for the full scene)
In honour of both, a clip of one of my favourite scenes from True Stories, which we saw tonight at the BFI. I hadn't seen it in years and had forgotten most of it - especially how much I loved it. What a great film.
(Click here for the full scene)
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
movie playlist
We all know how I like to make note of my playlists and share them at the end of the year… well here’s a movie playlist. Last November I decided to start making note of every film I watched (*cough* dork *cough*), so here’s my list for January – March 2009, in order watched, with movies from Lovefilm, from the library, on TV or at the cinema.
1. True Romance
2. The Family Stone
3. 8 ½
4. Reservoir Dogs
5. Kill Bill 1
6. Kill Bill 2
7. I Walked With A Zombie
8. Independence Day (kind of. On tv in background)
9. Pieces
10. Au Revoir Les Enfants
11. Edward Scissorhands
12. Oldboy
13. Escape From NY
14. Total Recall
15. Carve Her Name With Pride
16. Thank You For Smoking
17. Primer
18. Faster Pussycat, Kill Kill
19. Notorious (Hitchcock. Not Biggie.)
20. Enchanted (with a 9 year old I was looking after) (not that I feel the need to justify watching it. I heart Amy Adams)
21. Superman Returns
22. Batman Returns
23. Aguirre, Wrath of God
24. Sid & Nancy
25. Control
26. Big Trouble In Little China
27. Quay Brothers shorts
28. Let The Right One In (Angelika)
29. I’m Not Scared
30. Before Sunrise
31. The Piano Tuner of EarthQuakes
32. Goodbye Lenin
33. Run Lola Run
34. Chinatown
35. Repo Man
36. The Thing (PCC double bill)
37. An American Werewolf In London (PCC double bill)
38. Irreversible
39. Rashomon
40. Don’t Look Now
41. Thirteen
42. Gone Baby Gone
43. Death Note
44. Sweet & Lowdown
45. Ichi The Killer
46. Build My Gallows High
47. Hostel (took me two attempts to get through it…)
48. Repo! The Genetic Opera (PCC)
49. The Edukators
50. Mala Noche
51. Orphée
52. Slumdog Millionaire (cinema)
53. Sympathy For Mr Vengeance
54. The Reader (cinema)
55. Pulp Fiction
56. Deathproof
57. Lord Of The Flies (1963)
58. My Own Private Idaho (Riverside Studios double bill)
59. Milk (Riverside Studios double bill)
60. Ghostbusters (PCC)
61. 5x2
62. Donnie Darko
63. Taxi Driver
64. What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
65. In Search Of A Midnight Kiss
Pretty much all great but major shouts have to go to Pieces, Oldboy, Let The Right One In and In Search Of A Midnight Kiss for being some of my favourites that I'd never seen before.
1. True Romance
2. The Family Stone
3. 8 ½
4. Reservoir Dogs
5. Kill Bill 1
6. Kill Bill 2
7. I Walked With A Zombie
8. Independence Day (kind of. On tv in background)
9. Pieces
10. Au Revoir Les Enfants
11. Edward Scissorhands
12. Oldboy
13. Escape From NY
14. Total Recall
15. Carve Her Name With Pride
16. Thank You For Smoking
17. Primer
18. Faster Pussycat, Kill Kill
19. Notorious (Hitchcock. Not Biggie.)
20. Enchanted (with a 9 year old I was looking after) (not that I feel the need to justify watching it. I heart Amy Adams)
21. Superman Returns
22. Batman Returns
23. Aguirre, Wrath of God
24. Sid & Nancy
25. Control
26. Big Trouble In Little China
27. Quay Brothers shorts
28. Let The Right One In (Angelika)
29. I’m Not Scared
30. Before Sunrise
31. The Piano Tuner of EarthQuakes
32. Goodbye Lenin
33. Run Lola Run
34. Chinatown
35. Repo Man
36. The Thing (PCC double bill)
37. An American Werewolf In London (PCC double bill)
38. Irreversible
39. Rashomon
40. Don’t Look Now
41. Thirteen
42. Gone Baby Gone
43. Death Note
44. Sweet & Lowdown
45. Ichi The Killer
46. Build My Gallows High
47. Hostel (took me two attempts to get through it…)
48. Repo! The Genetic Opera (PCC)
49. The Edukators
50. Mala Noche
51. Orphée
52. Slumdog Millionaire (cinema)
53. Sympathy For Mr Vengeance
54. The Reader (cinema)
55. Pulp Fiction
56. Deathproof
57. Lord Of The Flies (1963)
58. My Own Private Idaho (Riverside Studios double bill)
59. Milk (Riverside Studios double bill)
60. Ghostbusters (PCC)
61. 5x2
62. Donnie Darko
63. Taxi Driver
64. What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
65. In Search Of A Midnight Kiss
Pretty much all great but major shouts have to go to Pieces, Oldboy, Let The Right One In and In Search Of A Midnight Kiss for being some of my favourites that I'd never seen before.
Monday, March 09, 2009
turning one
Step One: Blowing out belated first birthday candle amid french fanciesStep Two: Given her own cake; tries to smoosh the whole thing in in one go (though let's face it, who doesn't?)
Step Three: Cake Face achieved.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
the best party game ever
Dan had the idea of building a photobooth for his grand party, so Friday night, after a trip to the Whitney, Brett and I headed back to his house to assist in the construction. Or rather, and despite our museum fatigue, Brett hit the ground running, being incredibly helpful and creative, while I kind of hung around, taking photos, generally getting in the way, running to the drugstore for push pins (to hang the drapery) then agreeing wholeheartedly with the plan to head to Black Mountain for dinner and drinks at 11pm.
The party itself went with a bang - lots of drink and good friends and dancing and squabbles over playlists (Christy Claire was rather put out that hers got turned off when Outkast came on), but you know there is the smallest chance I might have been getting my drunk on at the party - there was rather more of the booze and rather less of the food for me that day - so my memory gets a little hazy some time around midnight...
Luckily the photobooth, apart from being a great party game, is also a fabulous aide-memoire for those drunken occasions, so it was with amusement and trepidation we looked through the photos this (very hungover) evening...
Dan, me & CeceI'd like to plead the triple-vodka-and-cranberry defence to (hopefully) explain why half the shots I'm in I seem to be either trying to bite someone, or licking their neck.
Ahh parties. Open bars without having eaten anything. New York. <3
Ahh parties. Open bars without having eaten anything. New York. <3
Thursday, February 12, 2009
brooklyn social
Yesterday was an almost springlike 17 degrees C - one of those days you can't help but be in love with the city, and smile at everyone. Lunch with CC at the Moma, wandering through Central Park, down to Soho to meet Lauren at work, walking across and through the Lower East Side with obligatory coffee break at Sugar Sweet Sunshine... I considered walking across the Williamsburg Bridge but decided to head home to get to Rocketship before closing time (where they have original Scott Pilgrim artwork for sale, that I had to force myself to walk away from), prior to an evening with take-out watching Lost (which I was, having only ever seen the first three episodes of series 1).
Today the Wicked Witch of the East blew in and brought with her gale-force, knock-you-down-and-blow-you-to-Oz strength winds, which I braved nonetheless to hang out with Faran for a quick lunch (being Fashion Week she's run off her feet), then meet Dan at the Angelika for Let The Right One In, which we both love (somehow the subways rumbling loudly underneath us mostly add to the atmosphere of the movie). Afterwards we find Cat and head for tea at Cafe Gitane, then cab it over to Hudson for Melissa Auf Der Mar's screening of a short that Dan and Brett (who's arrived in town today from Providence) worked on last year.
Home again home again jiggity jig... somehow we convince the Greenpoint residents to come down to Carroll Gardens for a wee drinkie or two, so we head to Brooklyn Social for some (strong as hell) Old Fashioneds.
Then it's back to Dan's where I remember I have a bag of funsize Crunchies in my suitcase for Christy Claire - it's quickly opened and everyone sugars up before CC and I grab a car service with all my crap back to her place in Greenpoint and it's time to acquaint myself with a new part of Brooklyn...
Today the Wicked Witch of the East blew in and brought with her gale-force, knock-you-down-and-blow-you-to-Oz strength winds, which I braved nonetheless to hang out with Faran for a quick lunch (being Fashion Week she's run off her feet), then meet Dan at the Angelika for Let The Right One In, which we both love (somehow the subways rumbling loudly underneath us mostly add to the atmosphere of the movie). Afterwards we find Cat and head for tea at Cafe Gitane, then cab it over to Hudson for Melissa Auf Der Mar's screening of a short that Dan and Brett (who's arrived in town today from Providence) worked on last year.
Home again home again jiggity jig... somehow we convince the Greenpoint residents to come down to Carroll Gardens for a wee drinkie or two, so we head to Brooklyn Social for some (strong as hell) Old Fashioneds.
Dan, Ryland and Brett
Then it's back to Dan's where I remember I have a bag of funsize Crunchies in my suitcase for Christy Claire - it's quickly opened and everyone sugars up before CC and I grab a car service with all my crap back to her place in Greenpoint and it's time to acquaint myself with a new part of Brooklyn...
Monday, February 02, 2009
snow day!
I was clearly too quick off the mark with the previous Stopping-by-woods wintry post, as we woke up today to a mass of snow, all but one tube line closed down and all London buses pulled from their routes... Ahh London when it snows...
Seeing as were already up and ready to go, having not realised there was no way to get to work, we went out for a walk at about 8:30am, while the snow was still virgin, down along the river to Syon Park, where it felt as if we were in the middle of the countryside. Beautiful.
And of course Fi just *had* to make a snow angel...
Friday, January 23, 2009
westway to the world
Dinner at (well, above) Honest Jon's - a real Mexican feast cooked up for us by Jason who's in from LA for a couple months, to commiserate the relocating (and thus job losses) of the company that at one time or another has employed four out of the seven of us there for dinner. Home-made flautas and guacamole and salsa and omg my mouth is watering even typing this (that kid is a great chef) and then on to another bottle of wine and roll-ups, though we leave before they really get into it, what with having work the next day when none of the others do.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
the year in mix tapes: 2008
It wasn't a playlist a month this year, as things were up and down (January was spent despairing about the job situation and finally taking - and passing, woot! - my driving test), but these were basically the soundtrack to my '08.
February 2008 (for Dan's bday)
1. Okay - KaiserCartel
2. Together Or Alone - Sebadoh
3. Don't Let Him Waste Your Time - Jarvis Cocker
4. Because We're Dead - Slow Club
5. 5 Years Time - Noah & The Whale
6. The Man Who Sold The World - David Bowie
7. King Bubbles In The Sand - King Creosote
8. Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend
9. Horse And I - Bat For Lashes
10. Police & Thieves - The Clash
11. Something In The Air - Thunderclap Newman
12. This Is A Low - Blur
13. Freewheel - Duke Special
14. Never Lonely Alone - Space Needle
15. Between The Bars - Elliott Smith
16. Lullaby - The Cure
17. Set Yourself On Fire - Stars
18. You! Me! Dancing! - Los Campesinos
19. Bonus Track (God Gave Rock and Roll To You, which we one time turned up REALLY loud after watching Bill & Ted)
Early Summer (May/June 2008)
1. Me And You - Slow Club
2. That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings
3. Ready For The Floor - Hot Chip
4. Paper Planes - MIA (not the shitty radio version they released this autumn)
5. Time To Pretend - MGMT
6. Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
7. Turn Tail - The Young Knives
8. Ashes To Ashes - David Bowie
9. Here On My Own - U.N.P.O.C.
10. In the Hot. Hot Rays - Fleet Foxes
11. The Boy With The Arab Strap - Belle & Sebastian
12. Late For The Devil - Kid Harpoon
13. Girls And Boys In Love - The Rumble Strips
14. The Kids Don't Stand A Chance - Vampire Weekend
15. A Day In The Life - The Beatles
Late Summer (July/August 2008)
1. Broken Bones - Sons and Daughters
2. Hypnotise - The White Stripes
3. Nonstop - Whitey
4. America's Boy - Broadcast
5. Ocean - Sebadoh
6. Tomorrow Tomorrow - Elliott Smith
7. Mykonos - Fleet Foxes
8. It's All Over - The Broken Family Band
9. I Know - The Beta Band
10. Ease Your Feet In The Sea - Belle & Sebastian
11. Going Down - Florence & Kid Harpoon
12. Wild Wood - Paul Weller
13. Flowers And Football Tops (acoustic) - Glasvegas
14. She Doesn't Belong - Pete & The Pirates
15. Summer's The Worst - Michael Leviton
16. Little Yellow Spider - Devendra Banhart
17. Wild World - Cat Stevens
September 2009 (about which I've previously posted)
1. Suedehead - Morrissey
2. I'm Good, I'm Gone - Lykke Li
3. Not Fade Away - The Rolling Stones
4. Victoria - The Kinks
5. Senses Working Overtime - XTC
6. Pink Moon - Nick Drake
7. Cold Blooded Old Times - Smog
8. A Town Without Pity - Gene Pitney
9. Darling - Sons and Daughters
10. A Million Reasons - Stellastar
11. Lion Rip - The Duke Spirit
12. Slow Hands - Interpol
13. Cannonball - The Breeders
14. Today - Smashing Pumpkins
15. Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana
16. Doll Parts - Hole
17. The Other Side Of Mt. Heart Attack - Liars
October 2008
This playlist I could never quite get to work. It has some really great songs on it, but, in my mind at least, they never *quite* meshed well enough to make a successful playlist. I'll post it here anyway. I'll probably end up reusing the tracks on another one at some point. Or just rehashing this till it's right. I know it'll bug me otherwise.
1. Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing - Stevie Wonder
2. Want-ads - The Honeycombs
3. Close To Me - The Cure
4. Wrapped Up In Books - Belle & Sebastian
5. Autumn Almanac - The Kinks
6. Bend It - Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich
7. Never Miss A Beat - Kaiser Chiefs
8. We Got The Beat - The Go-Gos
9. Knickerbocker - Fujiya & Miyagi
10. Woo Hoo - 5.6.7.8's
11. Pin - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
12. Lights Out - Santogold
13. But It's Alright - Eddie Floyd
14. Johnny Too Bad - The Slickers
15. Mr Big Stuff - Jean Knight
16. Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding
November 2008
1. L.E.S. Artistes - Santogold
2. Violet - Hole
3. The Beginning Of The Twist - The Futureheads
4. I Saw Her Standing There - The Beatles
5. Hold Tight - Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich
6. In The Morning - The Coral
7. About A Girl - Nirvana
8. Trash - Suede
9. Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac
10. I've Got My Mind Set On You - George Harrison
11. Death Of A Tune - The Hidden Cameras
12. Young Love - Mystery Jets ft. Laura Marling
13. Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes
14. I Wanna Be Adored - Stone Roses
15. Goodnight Moon - Shivaree
16. Tire Swing - Kimya Dawson
17. When I Go - Slow Club
18. Drinker's Peace - Guided By Voices
19. It's My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry - Glasvegas
20. Love Your Man, Love Your Woman - The Broken Family Band
December 2008
1. I Need A Life - Born Ruffians
2. Becky - Be Your Own Pet
3. Don't Falter - Mint Royale ft. Lauren Laverne
4. Brainless - Sunny Day Sets Fire
5. Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? - She & Him
6. Midnight Surprise - Lightspeed Champion
7. Since I Don't Have You - The Skyliners
8. Dance Dance Dance - Lykke Li
9. Oh! - The Breeders
10. Ocean Of Noise - The Arcade Fire
11. White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes
12. Flume - Bon Iver
13. Bears - Pete & The Pirates
14. Boys Of Melody - The Hidden Cameras
15. In The Morning - Ben Lee
16. Christmas TV - Slow Club
Hope 2008 has been good to you all; here's to 2009. Onwards and upwards, as they say.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
An intellectual carrot. The mind boggles.
Had total festive season wipeout today; crashed in front of the telly and watched horror movies all evening. First The Last House On The Left, then Planet Terror, then finally The Thing. We had to watch the original for a film studies class back at uni - it was relatively entertaining and contains possibly one of my favourite lines from a film ever (see blog post title), but Carpenter's version was brilliant - definitely my favourite of the three watched. Plus, Kurt Russell is The Awesome.
Friday, December 19, 2008
gingerbread house
Another grand festive tradition: the assembling and decorating of gingerbread houses with my oldest friend, Laura. Much sugar-hyped fun.
For the record, though I put the cow there, my friend was the one who said "He needs some innards" and put the red licorice there...
For the record, though I put the cow there, my friend was the one who said "He needs some innards" and put the red licorice there...
Sunday, December 07, 2008
The Thank Credit Crunch Chrismukkah meal 2008
Up to a certain point (usually around December 23rd) I love the festive season. I love the build up and the lights and decorations and music and buying crap for people and the emphasis on friends and family. But by the time Christmas Day actually rolls around, I'm so over it. So we had our becoming-traditional Chrismukkah lunch today: 12 adults, one toddler, the first people arriving at 2pm, the last people leaving at 10pm; lots of food, my sister and I cooking, trying to schedule everything in, suddenly remembering we hadn't put the potatoes on to boil though the turkey was basically cooked, completely forgetting about the stuffing. No major spillages, less booze consumed than I'd thought we might, everyone wearing the paper hats from crackers, and Tayo loving all the attention he was getting. Much talk of the previous night's X Factor (pah), excellent desserts brought by people (we asked people to bring contributions), fun with the squirty whipped cream, Christmas jumpers, eating so much you feel sick, and people passing out on the sofa... sounds like Christmas to me.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
dance till the morning light
Slow Club have been the soundtrack to my 2008; I love love love them and their live shows are just so endearing. Tonight we saw them at Union Chapel in Islington (what an amazing venue), along with a bunch of special guests. We sat in the pews drinking cups of tea and listened to Jay Jay Pistolet and Adem (who did a great version of Silent Night), then Slow Club came out and did their thing. They'd distributed lyric sheets for a good old singalong - unfortunately, the ink was red and the lighting in the chapel was verrrry low, so it was pretty much unreadable. No one really minded; everyone kind of hummed and clapped along anyway. A great last gig of the year.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
glow in the dark
02 Arena. Kanye West's Glow In The Dark Tour 2008. Second gig of the week. Free tickets courtesy UMusic: great seats, eight rows from the front. Result.
He played all the hits and some off the forthcoming album, and right near the end brought Estelle out to do American Boy, which of course everyone loved. The show was something of a spectacle, with a crazy set and 'lost in space' kind of story - Kanye and his spaceship, "Jane", have crashed and he has to find some way to get his rocket working and off the lost planet back home somehow. Of course, it turns out the key to getting the rocket working again is Kanye himself - he's the biggest superstar there is (of course).
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
change is gonna come
In one of our usual walking around, putting the world to rights kind of mornings in Paris, Dan and I were discussing our own personal 2008s. Where 2007 had been like treading water for me – and him, apparently – 2008 was the year of change, for both of us. It’s the first year I’ve felt happy. Settled. Like I have a real goal and know where I’m going. Like I’ve finally found my footing again since NY. And I started writing again, which is more of a big deal than I thought, and makes me happier than I realised. For him, much of the same: taking a three-month NY sabbatical in Paris, trying to refocus on his artwork, trying to calm down the crazy schedule he maintained earlier in the year.
And now it would seem that our personal 2008 theme has just gone worldwide. Election results are in; Obama’s the man.
All yesterday I was really weirdly nervous and emotional about the whole thing, closely following all my American friends’ Twitter and Facebook statuses about voting, donating my own Fb status to remind everyone to vote Obama. 98% of my Twitter buddies are Americans (is it not such a big thing over here?) and I guess maybe 40 – 50% of my Fb friends are, from the Fotolog days to my time living in NY – all of them Democrats – so there was a constant stream of updates. I remember well the 2004 election, how *sure* the fotolog peeps were that John Kerry was going to get in, the feeling of hope… and then the crushing disappointment when it all went to hell.
And now it would seem that our personal 2008 theme has just gone worldwide. Election results are in; Obama’s the man.
All yesterday I was really weirdly nervous and emotional about the whole thing, closely following all my American friends’ Twitter and Facebook statuses about voting, donating my own Fb status to remind everyone to vote Obama. 98% of my Twitter buddies are Americans (is it not such a big thing over here?) and I guess maybe 40 – 50% of my Fb friends are, from the Fotolog days to my time living in NY – all of them Democrats – so there was a constant stream of updates. I remember well the 2004 election, how *sure* the fotolog peeps were that John Kerry was going to get in, the feeling of hope… and then the crushing disappointment when it all went to hell.
So this year I tried not to get so emotionally involved. I mean after all, it’s not even my country – though who rules America has such a big impact on the rest of the world, it would be stupid not to care who gets in. The disbelief at the Palin nomination, the flickers of hope that seemed to be growing among my friends, the idea of a black President, wondering if America was really ready for this…
I woke up this morning feeling like hell – the cold-flu monster that has been threatening all last week finally kicked into hyperdrive yesterday and is really kicking my ass – but staggered to the computer and checked BBC News, then Facebook, then Twitter, getting quite choked up as I scrolled back a few pages and belatedly followed last night's election progress via my friends:
ultragrrrl People are coming into the streets celebrating.
sweetavenue EVERY person they r showing on tv during obama's speech is in tears
gurj "brothaz should pull up their pants" oh obama... ::SWOON::
carafornia I'm glad the republicans get to know how we felt for 8 years. fuck yessssssss
carafornia yesyesyesyesyes. at boneshakers happy happy. words can't express how amazing tonight is.
gurj you have an arousing and cool new president. I'll toast to that. (mccain election epic fail wah waaah)
jeanieforever OH YES WE DID!
Brunocerous high-fiving VT!
Brunocerous hugging N.H
Brunocerous WTF, S.C.?
Brunocerous did florida really just turn blue?!
carafornia crybaby at the polls. so many people there made me tear up like a babeh. most exciting election in america's history!
Brunocerous Voted with all the hope in my heart.
Congratulations America. Here’s to Change, and the next four years.
Friday, October 31, 2008
hollaween
This year's pumpkin, which I carved yesterday afternoon (still unemployed, too much free time on my hands...). Based on:
My sister is epileptic and this usually doesn’t impede on her/our life much – she’s photosensitive, petit mal, so things like TV static, rapidly flashing or jump-cut images and strobe lights aren’t great (her friends are pretty good about clamping a hand over her eyes if they’re out at a club with strobes, and watching Dark Knight this summer was pretty interesting, some bad lighting effects in that). Halloween is the only time of year it really sucks. We’re trying to plan a good Scary Movie Night, and so many films are being shot down because of some faulty wiring in her brain – Poltergeist? No can do. Blair Witch or Cloverfield? Shaky-cam would knock her out. The Ring? Hello to the tv static. Goddamn epilepsy. I mean really, it’s awfully selfish of her to ruin movie night...
[For the record, any non-seizure-inducing films I mentioned all got shot down too, and people started talking about Disney horror… which is, in itself, frankly horrifying].
[For the record, any non-seizure-inducing films I mentioned all got shot down too, and people started talking about Disney horror… which is, in itself, frankly horrifying].
Monday, October 27, 2008
current status: grrrr
Q: What's more depressing and dispiriting that being unemployed and job-hunting?
A: Being unemployed and job-hunting in a credit crisis/recession.
Am SO OVER this financial meltdown crap already.
A: Being unemployed and job-hunting in a credit crisis/recession.
Am SO OVER this financial meltdown crap already.
Friday, October 17, 2008
i love paris in the fall
Currently à Paris, visiting Dan. Beautiful weather, amazing food, lots of walking and rambling and people watching. Paris, je t'aime.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
So long September
My favourite method of procrastination is to make mix tapes (well, CDs). As September was mostly about writing (see previous post), this meant it was also mostly about procrastination. And so without further ado I present to you my September '08 playlist:
Here's to a prosperous October...
- Suedehead - Morrissey
- I'm Good, I'm Gone - Lykke Li
- Not Fade Away - The Rolling Stones
- Victoria - The Kinks
- Senses Working Overtime - XTC
- Pink Moon - Nick Drake
- Cold Blooded Old Times - Smog
- A Town Without Pity - Gene Pitney
- Darling - Sons & Daughters
- A Million Reasons - Stellastar
- Lion Rip - The Duke Spirit
- Slow Hands - Interpol
- Cannonball - The Breeders
- Today - Smashing Pumpkins
- Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana
- Doll Parts - Hole
- The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack - Liars
- Handlebars - Flobots
Here's to a prosperous October...
Monday, September 29, 2008
the day before the deadline
• Hours of sleep had: Less than four
• Number of drafts written
10 pages: About five
One-pager: Still not enough
• Deadlines met: One
• People in the line ahead of me at the Post Office: what seemed like 100
• Minutes spent deciding between the veggie brunch or the pancakes at brunch: Also about five
• Tantrums the godson had during the couple hours I spent with him: At least three. Including throwing a bowl of chips on the floor at Giraffe.
• How we got him back in the buggy without another tantrum: bribed him with Maltesers.
• Plan for the next day or two: bloody sleep.
Bonne chance à tous. I hold no hope but at least a deadline gets me writing.
• Number of drafts written
10 pages: About five
One-pager: Still not enough
• Deadlines met: One
• People in the line ahead of me at the Post Office: what seemed like 100
• Minutes spent deciding between the veggie brunch or the pancakes at brunch: Also about five
• Tantrums the godson had during the couple hours I spent with him: At least three. Including throwing a bowl of chips on the floor at Giraffe.
• How we got him back in the buggy without another tantrum: bribed him with Maltesers.
• Plan for the next day or two: bloody sleep.
Bonne chance à tous. I hold no hope but at least a deadline gets me writing.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
badlands #2
In the badlands of south west London, a sunny Saturday afternoon spent lying in the sun in Richmond Park. Deadlines be damned.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
cogito ergo procrastinato*
Lazy Sundays are an art form, best typified by that amazing SNL skit of a few years ago (which has become so embedded in the pop culture subsection of my mind that I actually can’t say Chronicles of Narnia without (a) saying Chronic-what?-cles, and (b) start laughing). (Man, I miss SNL).
Today was a very, very lazy Sunday; the sole aim of the day was procrastination (sorry, 30th September is how far away? A whole nine days you say? That’s fiiiiiine…)
I got up late.
I had coffee and watched The Warriors (I dressed up as a Warrior for Halloween ’05, when I was living in NY. Had never actually seen the film, but there was a massive billboard a couple blocks away from my offices for the videogame of it, and the image had lodged itself in my mind, clearly, as I couldn’t think of a single other thing to dress up as. At the big Halloween ball we went to in Williamsburg some very drunk guy cornered me at the bar, grabbed me by the shoulders and slurred “No one will ever understand how amazing your outfit is.” Which I took to mean he approved of it.)
I went back upstairs to get dressed… but got back into bed instead.
Got up again about half an hour later, feeling guilty that I was wasting the day so badly.
Back downstairs, completely ignored Ratatouille that someone had put on, internetted for a good long while. Joined twitter.com after months of hovering around all, all in the name of procrastination (it’s great, join! we can all follow each other procrastinating! It’s like the most fun part of Facebook – the status update bar - without all the other Facebook crap).
Put Shaun of the Dead on (see below).
Paused Shaun of the Dead to walk round to open-all-hours pharmacy. Pharmacist not in, came home, resumed Shaun of the Dead.
Paused Shaun of the Dead again an hour later, walked to corner shop, bought poppadoms, went back to pharmacy, pharmacist in, picked up prescription. Came back, watched last part of movie.
Had dinner.
Internetted, made playlists, generally mooched around.
Watched repeats of No Heroics (has potential) and Samantha Who? (quite funny, could do without the weird writing bits).
Made a cup of tea.
Read Neverwhere.
Decided it was too late to try and salvage the day by doing something productive, so went to bed.
An art form. As you see.
*Yes, there's a large chance this actually isn't Latin.
Today was a very, very lazy Sunday; the sole aim of the day was procrastination (sorry, 30th September is how far away? A whole nine days you say? That’s fiiiiiine…)
I got up late.
I had coffee and watched The Warriors (I dressed up as a Warrior for Halloween ’05, when I was living in NY. Had never actually seen the film, but there was a massive billboard a couple blocks away from my offices for the videogame of it, and the image had lodged itself in my mind, clearly, as I couldn’t think of a single other thing to dress up as. At the big Halloween ball we went to in Williamsburg some very drunk guy cornered me at the bar, grabbed me by the shoulders and slurred “No one will ever understand how amazing your outfit is.” Which I took to mean he approved of it.)
I went back upstairs to get dressed… but got back into bed instead.
Got up again about half an hour later, feeling guilty that I was wasting the day so badly.
Back downstairs, completely ignored Ratatouille that someone had put on, internetted for a good long while. Joined twitter.com after months of hovering around all, all in the name of procrastination (it’s great, join! we can all follow each other procrastinating! It’s like the most fun part of Facebook – the status update bar - without all the other Facebook crap).
Put Shaun of the Dead on (see below).
Paused Shaun of the Dead to walk round to open-all-hours pharmacy. Pharmacist not in, came home, resumed Shaun of the Dead.
Paused Shaun of the Dead again an hour later, walked to corner shop, bought poppadoms, went back to pharmacy, pharmacist in, picked up prescription. Came back, watched last part of movie.
Had dinner.
Internetted, made playlists, generally mooched around.
Watched repeats of No Heroics (has potential) and Samantha Who? (quite funny, could do without the weird writing bits).
Made a cup of tea.
Read Neverwhere.
Decided it was too late to try and salvage the day by doing something productive, so went to bed.
An art form. As you see.
*Yes, there's a large chance this actually isn't Latin.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Master Blaster
So my sister got last minute tickets (as in, 5:30pm-when-he-went-on-at-8pm last minute) free tickets to Stevie Wonder at the O2 last night, courtesy of her workplace. Cue much stress as I tried to figure out if it'd be feasible for me to go - of course, it's Stevie fucking Wonder, you drop everything and make it happen - then major rush over to Greenwich, but everyone got there in plenty of time.
And oh my, he was amaaaaaazing. Total legend.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Note to self:
Films to re-watch as soon as I have time:
- Repo Man. "...Ordinary fucking people, I hate 'em."
- Total Recall - which I haven't seen since I was about 12 and made some friends watch it at a sleepover. Perhaps that was the beginning of my oddball reputation... when all they wanted to do was watch The Outsiders and cry over Johnny, and I make them watch a total mindfuck of a film.
- Memento. Know I've seen it, but don't remember.
- The Matrix
- Shaun of the Dead. One of the rainy Sundays in August (and it felt like there were many), when the grey skies drained all productivity out of me, I sat and watched all of the second series of Spaced (having watched the first the day before), followed by Hot Fuzz. For some reason I never got round to SotD that day, so it feels like a piece is missing.
- A History of Violence
- Withnail & I
- Kill Bill (both volumes)
- Pulp Fiction. Haven't seen since the year it came out and I was a wee teenager. As much as I liked it then, I'm sure I'd appreciate it much more now.
- Brick. One of my favourite scripts I've ever read.
- Brazil, which is playing the BFI at the end of September so must try and twist someone's arm into going with me.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
carnival
It's very useful having friends who live on Portobello: having a place to collapse, a free BBQ, a table full of drinks, nice toilets, a good view of the Carnival crowds (and the subsquent riots, which I missed, being back at home, but my sister who was staying there had prime position to witness the riot police in action)... Haven't been since I was a teenager (can never quite be bothered), but it was so worth it just for the food: saltfish patties, fried plantains, dumplings... drooooool...
Saturday, August 23, 2008
I am the god of Hellfire...
I'd been reading up about Sir Francis Dashwood and the Hellfire Club recently - for research or pleasure, take your pick - and decided since another roadtrip out of London was well overdue, I'd head out to West Wycombe and go visit the Hellfire Caves.
I coerced my sister and we drove out, marvelling at the cheaper petrol prices in the countryside, and the quaint village of West Wycombe, complete with crazy old crooked buildings and old-fashioned sweet shop.
The caves themselves were good creepy fun (one family that came in a minute behind us only got about 20 feet before the youngest child - probably around 5 or so - started wailing and had to be taken back out) - lots of dripping water and echoey, dimly lit paths and creepy ass waxworks. Awesome.
When we emerged back into the sunlight, we aimed for the Dashwood Mausoleum. While I'm sure there's a more sensible route, we couldn't seem to find one, so started walking up the steep hill that soon became almost vertical. As we scrabbled up the slope - no useful grass or shrubs to grab on to that high up, just dirt and scree and a few odd roots that you hang on to for dear life - a small boy came bounding past us and asked if we wanted a hand. I've never felt more like an old lady; almost gave that cheeky young whippersnapper a clip round the ear...
The mausoleum was actually quite impressive up close and the church behind it very charming and full of Dashwood family history, but after scrabbling back down the same slope we'd had to climb up, only a visit to the aforementioned sweet shop and then one of the village pubs could soothe us enough to be able to drive home...
I coerced my sister and we drove out, marvelling at the cheaper petrol prices in the countryside, and the quaint village of West Wycombe, complete with crazy old crooked buildings and old-fashioned sweet shop.
The caves themselves were good creepy fun (one family that came in a minute behind us only got about 20 feet before the youngest child - probably around 5 or so - started wailing and had to be taken back out) - lots of dripping water and echoey, dimly lit paths and creepy ass waxworks. Awesome.
When we emerged back into the sunlight, we aimed for the Dashwood Mausoleum. While I'm sure there's a more sensible route, we couldn't seem to find one, so started walking up the steep hill that soon became almost vertical. As we scrabbled up the slope - no useful grass or shrubs to grab on to that high up, just dirt and scree and a few odd roots that you hang on to for dear life - a small boy came bounding past us and asked if we wanted a hand. I've never felt more like an old lady; almost gave that cheeky young whippersnapper a clip round the ear...
The mausoleum was actually quite impressive up close and the church behind it very charming and full of Dashwood family history, but after scrabbling back down the same slope we'd had to climb up, only a visit to the aforementioned sweet shop and then one of the village pubs could soothe us enough to be able to drive home...
Thursday, August 14, 2008
bad influence...
Later we went for lunch, where the tot loudly banged on the table, demanding "more!" Maria tried to get him to more politely say "more please". I took the initiative, and made him say "Please sir, may I have some more?", à la Oliver Twist, before he could have more food. I am an evil godmother. Mwahahahaha.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Exterminate!
I had a meeting this afternoon at BBC Television Centre in White City; we sat in the coffee shop downstairs for a chat, and these were poised about ten feet behind us. Amazing.
Best part of the most recent series finale, about which I still haven't really made up my mind: German daleks.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Learning To Love You More
If you’re based Oop North, around Middlesbrough, today is a good day to go see some art… The lovely Nicky P is curating a Learning To Love You More exhib, of which yours truly is a part. I wish I could get up there to see it, but it’s just a tiny bit too far away for a daytrip.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
currently rocking my world
1. Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
Have I mentioned before how much I love Joss Whedon? I have? Frequently? Oh. Well, here's just another example of why. Musical webisodes about a supervillian (Dr Horrible), his arch nemesis (Captain Hammer), and the girl of his dreams...
'Joss Whedon set out on the low-budget project during the writers' strike as a lark and a labor of love — and to show the industry an out-of-the-box project could find an audience. But the overwhelming response has caught him by surprise.
"We had this home-baked idea that we love and we're proud of," Whedon says. "We made this on the understanding that we'd never make a dime. But it's blown up beyond our expectations." '
The first Act made me giggle with absolute glee. Who else - seriously, who on earth else? - could have come up with something like this, and made such a site-crashing success? Because that's what happened - the blog was so popular the servers crashed. If that's not a show of love, I don't know what is. Joss Whedon, I salute you. And can't wait for Dollhouse.
Here's the trailer - then go watch the full episodes.
2. Y The Last Man
So on my lunchbreak today I made a trip to the comic store to pick up the most recent Buffy series 8 issues (see above for the Whedon love), and discovered the last collected volume of YTLM, Book 10 - Whys & Wherefores (which is only available for pre-order on Amazon, so was perhaps an American import?). I was reading it on the tube home this evening, after a couple of cocktails in Soho, and about halfway through really wished I wasn't reading it in public. So. Gutting. Augh.
As with all good things, I was worried about how it was going to end, and wasn't sure about the epilogue, until the last couple of pages, which just made me laugh with relief. Brian K Vaughan and Pia Guerra, I salute you too.
3. Everything else:
Have I mentioned before how much I love Joss Whedon? I have? Frequently? Oh. Well, here's just another example of why. Musical webisodes about a supervillian (Dr Horrible), his arch nemesis (Captain Hammer), and the girl of his dreams...
'Joss Whedon set out on the low-budget project during the writers' strike as a lark and a labor of love — and to show the industry an out-of-the-box project could find an audience. But the overwhelming response has caught him by surprise.
"We had this home-baked idea that we love and we're proud of," Whedon says. "We made this on the understanding that we'd never make a dime. But it's blown up beyond our expectations." '
The first Act made me giggle with absolute glee. Who else - seriously, who on earth else? - could have come up with something like this, and made such a site-crashing success? Because that's what happened - the blog was so popular the servers crashed. If that's not a show of love, I don't know what is. Joss Whedon, I salute you. And can't wait for Dollhouse.
Here's the trailer - then go watch the full episodes.
2. Y The Last Man
So on my lunchbreak today I made a trip to the comic store to pick up the most recent Buffy series 8 issues (see above for the Whedon love), and discovered the last collected volume of YTLM, Book 10 - Whys & Wherefores (which is only available for pre-order on Amazon, so was perhaps an American import?). I was reading it on the tube home this evening, after a couple of cocktails in Soho, and about halfway through really wished I wasn't reading it in public. So. Gutting. Augh.
As with all good things, I was worried about how it was going to end, and wasn't sure about the epilogue, until the last couple of pages, which just made me laugh with relief. Brian K Vaughan and Pia Guerra, I salute you too.
3. Everything else:
Monday, July 14, 2008
a dream upon waking...
I awoke this morning promptly at 7am (which was strange enough in itself, as these past few days I've been setting up to six [!] alarms to ensure I get up in time - and have still managed most days to turn them all off and fall back asleep), convinced I had the winning idea for the Red Planet Prize. There was mystery and intrigue and great characters... I dragged myself out of bed, and while washing my face and brushing my teeth I tried to form some logic from the tangled web of the idea.
Teeth clean, I stumbled back to my room and sat down on the bed. There were some pretty gaping holes in what I'd worked out, and, worse, the idea was slowly, slowly drifting and slipping away from me... those characters who I knew so well before I woke were becoming misty and half-formed, the plot premise was murky and indistinct...
And I came to the realisation that it had all been but a dream, never anything more coherent than subconscious rumblings. Defeated, I crawled back into bed - after all, if I wasn't going to do any writing that second, I could steal an extra ten minutes before I really had to get up. But as I re-set my alarm, I could at least feel that even though my conscious brain has hit a brick wall when it comes to this project, my subconscious is constantly mulling it over...
And with that I dozed back off, and ten minutes later slept through my alarm...
Red Planet Prize blog
Teeth clean, I stumbled back to my room and sat down on the bed. There were some pretty gaping holes in what I'd worked out, and, worse, the idea was slowly, slowly drifting and slipping away from me... those characters who I knew so well before I woke were becoming misty and half-formed, the plot premise was murky and indistinct...
And I came to the realisation that it had all been but a dream, never anything more coherent than subconscious rumblings. Defeated, I crawled back into bed - after all, if I wasn't going to do any writing that second, I could steal an extra ten minutes before I really had to get up. But as I re-set my alarm, I could at least feel that even though my conscious brain has hit a brick wall when it comes to this project, my subconscious is constantly mulling it over...
And with that I dozed back off, and ten minutes later slept through my alarm...
Red Planet Prize blog
Sunday, July 13, 2008
heathens
For some reason people seem to trust me with their kids, and so it is I have two pretty fabulous (aside from the tantrums and screaming and crying and throwing up) godchildren, courtesy of best friend from high school and best friend from university. I say godchildren, but perhaps they're more fairy godchildren, as neither have been actually baptised in the church; both friends wanted people to fill godparent-type roles for their kids though neither wanted an actual baptism (not so much with the churchgoing), so for lack of a better non-religious word, godmother it has become. Or "non-godmother", as I was asked to be for Margot.
Today was the kind of non-christening, hey this is our baby kind of party: a big picnic in Wimbledon Park - picnic rugs and sausage rolls and fairy cakes and homemade party hats and cricket and rounders and bottles of Strongbow (just to add that touch of class). My non-godmother request came with a clause to educate Junior about Joss Whedon when she's old enough to understand; I already expanded this brief to include some rock'n'roll basics, so pushed the boundaries a little further to include Doctor Who, a series her mum and I have both been loving recently. And so it was I spent Saturday afternoon making Dalek shaped cookies and decorating them with silver balls, in the name of godmotherly duty...
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Summer solstice
Is anyone else slightly horrified we’re already half way through 2008?? So much to do, so little time…
Status update of the year so far? Interesting. Much better than last year. Whereas ‘07 felt like treading water, ‘08 feels a lot more about taking steps forward – even if they are tiny baby steps, and even if it’s sometimes two steps forward, one step back. It’s still progress. And I feel for the first time settled and happy in London. That NY trip kind of got it out of my system. So this second half of the year, it’s all guns blazing, reaching for the sky, getting at least somewhere near what I want. Wish me luck…
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Over-identify-much?
I am loving Donna Noble. I wasn’t really the biggest fan of her Christmas Special (2006), aside from the fact that part of it was set in Chiswick, so when they announced her as the new companion I was a little worried. But the character totally hit the ground running and just gets better and better. Catherine Tate is awesome.
And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that being a temp, from Chiswick, who’s living with family because of the lack of permanent job, I slightly over-identify with her, and totally get how much she wanted to find the Dr to get away from it all. Nothing at all…
And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that being a temp, from Chiswick, who’s living with family because of the lack of permanent job, I slightly over-identify with her, and totally get how much she wanted to find the Dr to get away from it all. Nothing at all…
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Here Is New York
"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh yes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company..."
E.B. White - "Here Is New York" (1948)
I was sitting on the subway, the G train, heading down to Carroll Gardens to go to Rocketship then hang out with Dan, staring into space when my eyes focused in on the ad panel opposite me. It was a passage from an E.B. White essay, the one I've copied above. I read it a couple of times, taking it in, then had to look away because it felt like someone had caught my heart. That's it, I thought. That's exactly what the city means to me, one of that Third category. That's how it is.
Or was. This time in NY has been strange. It's a trip I'd been postponing for a while, something was holding me back from booking tickets, but then I had no work lined up and everyone I wanted to see would be there before heading off on tour or to weddings or vacations. And it was great to be back and to see everyone, and go for brunch at Florent, and get ice cream at 1am on Houston, and sit in Union Square eating apples and watching the streetfighters do their thing, and go to Coney for the day, and sit in Sugar Sweet Sunshine drinking iced coffee... But I missed that buzz. That excitement that used to keep me going. That incredible awe of "Oh my god, I'm living in New York."
Maybe it was the heatwave. That awful 40 degree heat where you didn't want to move, the heat lightning flickering all night, the a/c units and huge fans barely making a dent on the still, hot air. It saps your energy - half the things and people I'd wanted to do and see I didn't get round to, it was just too hot to do much.
But I've come back feeling strangely glad to be home - which is a first - and with a renewed sense of wanting to make a go of it now, here. I'll still miss my friends, but there's email and AIM/iChat and UK tours and London Fashion week and other things that'll bring them over. I'll miss the chutzpah of the city and the food (would someone please open a Taco Bell over here?), and the great tradition of brunch which still hasn't caught on as much as I'd like over here. But I'm looking at London with new eyes, and I suddenly see that most of what I loved about New York is available here. It's just a case of making an effort and looking.
E.B. White - "Here Is New York" (1948)
I was sitting on the subway, the G train, heading down to Carroll Gardens to go to Rocketship then hang out with Dan, staring into space when my eyes focused in on the ad panel opposite me. It was a passage from an E.B. White essay, the one I've copied above. I read it a couple of times, taking it in, then had to look away because it felt like someone had caught my heart. That's it, I thought. That's exactly what the city means to me, one of that Third category. That's how it is.
Or was. This time in NY has been strange. It's a trip I'd been postponing for a while, something was holding me back from booking tickets, but then I had no work lined up and everyone I wanted to see would be there before heading off on tour or to weddings or vacations. And it was great to be back and to see everyone, and go for brunch at Florent, and get ice cream at 1am on Houston, and sit in Union Square eating apples and watching the streetfighters do their thing, and go to Coney for the day, and sit in Sugar Sweet Sunshine drinking iced coffee... But I missed that buzz. That excitement that used to keep me going. That incredible awe of "Oh my god, I'm living in New York."
Maybe it was the heatwave. That awful 40 degree heat where you didn't want to move, the heat lightning flickering all night, the a/c units and huge fans barely making a dent on the still, hot air. It saps your energy - half the things and people I'd wanted to do and see I didn't get round to, it was just too hot to do much.
But I've come back feeling strangely glad to be home - which is a first - and with a renewed sense of wanting to make a go of it now, here. I'll still miss my friends, but there's email and AIM/iChat and UK tours and London Fashion week and other things that'll bring them over. I'll miss the chutzpah of the city and the food (would someone please open a Taco Bell over here?), and the great tradition of brunch which still hasn't caught on as much as I'd like over here. But I'm looking at London with new eyes, and I suddenly see that most of what I loved about New York is available here. It's just a case of making an effort and looking.
Friday, June 13, 2008
If you make me a part of your child’s life, I will imprint myself upon them…
I tried reading Watchmen to my godson Tayo when he was 5 months old but he just wasn’t that in to it. The Marvel Heroes X Men pop up book went down a bit better when he’d just turned one, and now he’s approaching two (where has the time gone?!) I bombard him with comic book t-shirts. We went shopping and came back with two Spiderman and one Batman t-shirts. And that’s not even touching upon the NJ Nets and Run DMC things I got him as a baby…
And then there’s goddaughter Margot, who got her first Ramones t-shirt three months before she was even born, and who I had much fun stocking up for in New York – this Clash onesie from Trash & Vaudeville being a prime example. So punk rock.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull...
...or whatever it's called, is a pile of shite.
However, three hours of solid air conditioning courtesy of the movie theatre was worth the $12 ticket price alone. Goddamn this 40 degree New York heatwave.
The frozen margs we then got at El Cantinero were pretty fucking great too.
However, three hours of solid air conditioning courtesy of the movie theatre was worth the $12 ticket price alone. Goddamn this 40 degree New York heatwave.
The frozen margs we then got at El Cantinero were pretty fucking great too.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
a brief moment of self-promotion
Okay, so it took me long enough, but I finally got around to putting the two short pieces I did for Flux back in December up online, ahead of hopefully seeing Hope Larson at MoCCA this weekend.
Without further ado:
Hope Larson
Foals
Without further ado:
Hope Larson
Foals
Sunday, May 25, 2008
sunday night musings after only three hours sleep
So I've been making plans to go back to NY, as work is sporadic and I have a bonus £500 (rare). But every time I get close to booking tickets, I get cold feet and can't quite go through with it - and am not sure why. So I re-watched the dumb little movie I made before I left, and was re-reading the blog archives circa 2005, when I first moved to the Apple, to remind myself of the amazing times and making myself feel very nostalgic. Everything felt like an adventure then. I came across this sentence that made me laugh out loud as it just seemed to sum up 2005 NY for me:
"Sure, I could stay in, make sure I know my shit, get a good night’s sleep and be truly prepared, but we’re young and in New York. I need my Friday night fill of hot boys, cute girls, cheap(ish) drinks, good music and general Lower East Side activity. Who wouldn’t?"
Long sigh. The nostalgia and odd kind of homesickness for that feeling of being young and free and having the (social) world at our feet clashed oddly with one of my recent posts about getting old, and I tried to reconcile the two ideas. Reading those archives I couldn't fathom how I used to do it - running on about 3 or 4 hours sleep a night, working a 9am-6pm job five days a week, class one evening a week, going out and staying out till the wee hours at least three times a week... how is that humanly possible?
Last night I headed out to Feeling Gloomy for some drinks and dancing, with my old roommate from New Jersey and a friend from my intake out there. Good times, almost like old times... This isn't so bad, I thought.
And then I got home, soaked after being caught in the rain at 3:30am and having to run from Centre Point down to Trafalgar Square to get my night bus when the other bus prematurely terminated, sober as I stopped drinking pretty early, tired from dancing, a little cold from the walk down St John's Road - and found an email asking me to be godparent to young Margot (with a clause attached to fill her in about Joss Whedon at some point in her life...) And suddenly realised that while being young, free, drunk and with no responsibilities has something going for it, everyone has to change, everyone grows up, and it's little things like this that makes things worthwhile.
"Sure, I could stay in, make sure I know my shit, get a good night’s sleep and be truly prepared, but we’re young and in New York. I need my Friday night fill of hot boys, cute girls, cheap(ish) drinks, good music and general Lower East Side activity. Who wouldn’t?"
Long sigh. The nostalgia and odd kind of homesickness for that feeling of being young and free and having the (social) world at our feet clashed oddly with one of my recent posts about getting old, and I tried to reconcile the two ideas. Reading those archives I couldn't fathom how I used to do it - running on about 3 or 4 hours sleep a night, working a 9am-6pm job five days a week, class one evening a week, going out and staying out till the wee hours at least three times a week... how is that humanly possible?
Last night I headed out to Feeling Gloomy for some drinks and dancing, with my old roommate from New Jersey and a friend from my intake out there. Good times, almost like old times... This isn't so bad, I thought.
And then I got home, soaked after being caught in the rain at 3:30am and having to run from Centre Point down to Trafalgar Square to get my night bus when the other bus prematurely terminated, sober as I stopped drinking pretty early, tired from dancing, a little cold from the walk down St John's Road - and found an email asking me to be godparent to young Margot (with a clause attached to fill her in about Joss Whedon at some point in her life...) And suddenly realised that while being young, free, drunk and with no responsibilities has something going for it, everyone has to change, everyone grows up, and it's little things like this that makes things worthwhile.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
possibly the geekiest thing i've ever done
I just changed the settings on my phone so that the text alert sound is that of the Tardis.
Every time I get a text, it sounds like the Tardis is landing somewhere nearby.
*Awesome*
Every time I get a text, it sounds like the Tardis is landing somewhere nearby.
*Awesome*
Monday, May 19, 2008
viva la cobra indeed
Sunday night. London Astoria 2. Cobra Starship & All Time Low. Lots of teenagers in hoodies (y'know, like emo/punk style hoodies, not hoodie-hoodies). Running late as ever, we miss the first band, though that was partially intentional, get there in time to grab a drink and find a place to stand (up on the balcony thank you very much; no floor standing for me. Have I not already outlined that I'm old now and can't handle mixing it up with the raring-to-go youth?)The band come on and play a good set, though I'm not familiar with stuff from their new album (does that make me a bad friend?) apart from the horrendously catchy Guilty Pleasures (with its hilarious videos). Make attempts to get hold of people, then run into Victoria in the glassed-off section of the bar who gets Alex. He walks us backstage; my sister is weirdly psyched about this, despite the amounts of times I've mentioned how unglam it actually is. I think she is still surprised by *this* however: a small poky dark green room that can barely hold five people comfortably - that the two co-headliners are sharing. There's rum and beer and pitta bread and Sainsburys Economy Jam and flying saucers, and at one point after the gig has ended and both bands plus assorted friends are in and around the dressing room, a big Disney singalong starts off, a medley of Aladdin hits. It's the most unglamourous, un-rock'n'roll thing, like, ever. Though very funny.
After wandering round Soho looking for food and Alex being accosted by various fans who are still hanging outside the venue and the bus taking ages to pack and leaving way beyond bus call, the bus finally moves off and heads a very circuitous and long route back to Shepherds Bush. We're on the upper deck, sat round a table watching series 1 of 24, along with three of All Time Low (seem nice, very young, quite drunk) and three We go grab a corner booth while the bands and crew check in. The hotel bar is painfully expensive; a couple of people have already ordered drinks but then Gabe turns up with wine and vodka taken from the bus, which is sneakily drunk in the corner. Some of the De La Soul tour are propping up the bar, which everyone tries not to look at too obviously, but - De La Soul! Holy shit.
Eventually it's like 2am; my sister has to be up at 6 for a call time of 8am in East London, so after arranging to pick Alex up the following afternoon as he's invited himself round for "tea" (what else, in England?), we head on out, grab a bagel to share at the 24 hr place on Bush Green then jump on a bus down to Hammersmith to get the night bus back on out to our neck of West London. When I finally crash, I'm beyond relieved (for a change) that I have no work the next morning, and do not envy my sister in the slightest...
Sunday, May 11, 2008
how you know you're getting old
1. When you prefer a "nice sit down" and a mug of tea to hanging out at music festivals
The Cobra boys are in town; after some brief hang time on Friday night at Victoria's flat in Kensington (which, by the way, is drool-worthy), their first gig is the next day at Give It A Name. Alex puts me on the list with a +1.
We head down there in time for their set at 4ish, walk the wrong way round Earls Court Centre, double back on ourselves, eventually get in. It's very dark inside. Fi wants to get to the front, I prefer to steer clear of teenage moshers, so we settle for somewhere in the middle. It's fun that most of the kids around us know the words to the songs and are dancing and stuff, but like I say, I'm not into the big crowds so duck back a ways. Their set finishes, we escape the crowds, I try to text one of the US cell phones but I'm not even sure they have them on. Fi veers towards Pizza Express in the outer hall but the lines are massive. Both of us would quite like a sit down.
We decide then to leave - we've seen the band we want to see, the only others that interest me aren't on till much later that night. We get off at Turnham Green to stop for ice cream at Fouberts, get some groceries, walk back to the car that we've left in W4, then drive home. Collapse on the sofa with a cuppa to watch Dr Who (The Doctor's Daughter. I had some issues with it, but still. Sob.) and barely move for the rest of the evening. Rock n roll.
2. When drunken BBQs turn into family-friendly affairs
The next day is amazingly hot and sunny. We'd been trying to organise a BBQ for today but as of Saturday night it's only going to be me, my sister, and her friend Katy, which means less BBQing and more lying in the sun with a glass of something cold and alcoholic. As the sun heats up, it seems everyone that couldn't make it before, or wasn't sure if they could, suddenly want in on the grilled meat action. We somehow have eight people turning up and no food, so an emergency trip to Tescos is called for. Food, drink, ice cream. Someone else is bringing the Pimms. There's lots of beer in the fridge. Party time.
We get home and sort food out and then decide to make the garden more toddler-friendly, as the godson is coming over. He brings over his paddling pool, for the amusement of all. The Binnie-Marston clan also turn up, so we now have two under-2s among us. There are more soft drinks around than beer, and the Pimms doesn't even get opened. Everyone lounges in the sun, the music plays (at a neighbourhood-friendly - I hope - volume), people read the Sunday papers, Sam makes me bring down our uni yearbook (laughs all round). All in all it's a thoroughly civilised affair; a far cry from the house party style BBQ of our youth that we had perhaps envisioned, but is there really anything wrong with that? After all, we can't stay young forever, and what's so great about youthful recklessness anyway?
The Cobra boys are in town; after some brief hang time on Friday night at Victoria's flat in Kensington (which, by the way, is drool-worthy), their first gig is the next day at Give It A Name. Alex puts me on the list with a +1.
We head down there in time for their set at 4ish, walk the wrong way round Earls Court Centre, double back on ourselves, eventually get in. It's very dark inside. Fi wants to get to the front, I prefer to steer clear of teenage moshers, so we settle for somewhere in the middle. It's fun that most of the kids around us know the words to the songs and are dancing and stuff, but like I say, I'm not into the big crowds so duck back a ways. Their set finishes, we escape the crowds, I try to text one of the US cell phones but I'm not even sure they have them on. Fi veers towards Pizza Express in the outer hall but the lines are massive. Both of us would quite like a sit down.
We decide then to leave - we've seen the band we want to see, the only others that interest me aren't on till much later that night. We get off at Turnham Green to stop for ice cream at Fouberts, get some groceries, walk back to the car that we've left in W4, then drive home. Collapse on the sofa with a cuppa to watch Dr Who (The Doctor's Daughter. I had some issues with it, but still. Sob.) and barely move for the rest of the evening. Rock n roll.
2. When drunken BBQs turn into family-friendly affairs
The next day is amazingly hot and sunny. We'd been trying to organise a BBQ for today but as of Saturday night it's only going to be me, my sister, and her friend Katy, which means less BBQing and more lying in the sun with a glass of something cold and alcoholic. As the sun heats up, it seems everyone that couldn't make it before, or wasn't sure if they could, suddenly want in on the grilled meat action. We somehow have eight people turning up and no food, so an emergency trip to Tescos is called for. Food, drink, ice cream. Someone else is bringing the Pimms. There's lots of beer in the fridge. Party time.
We get home and sort food out and then decide to make the garden more toddler-friendly, as the godson is coming over. He brings over his paddling pool, for the amusement of all. The Binnie-Marston clan also turn up, so we now have two under-2s among us. There are more soft drinks around than beer, and the Pimms doesn't even get opened. Everyone lounges in the sun, the music plays (at a neighbourhood-friendly - I hope - volume), people read the Sunday papers, Sam makes me bring down our uni yearbook (laughs all round). All in all it's a thoroughly civilised affair; a far cry from the house party style BBQ of our youth that we had perhaps envisioned, but is there really anything wrong with that? After all, we can't stay young forever, and what's so great about youthful recklessness anyway?
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