Monthly Archives: May 2005

One Night In Paris

Saw House of Wax. Nice opening titles. Nice goo. I’d like to wade through a room filled with softened wax sometime. Bad film. Why is a severed achilles tendon so very horrible? Sends a shiver of horror through me everytime a sharp instrument makes it’s merry way through an ankle. Ik.

Ow. The inside of my head hurts. The delights of maxillary sinus pain.
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Ep. III Easter Egg Hunt

Episode III Easter Egg Hunt
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Nothing of content

Nothing of content to write about. A vague sense of unhappiness. Loneliness. Fear and uncertainty. Hmmm…

Gonzales Uber Alles and Presidential Suite were mood-altering substances of the week. Now there is an artist I admire. Changing styles to suit, doing different things at will. Those crayzee artists. Gotta love ’em.

On that subject- I am actually a mite frustrated at my inability to produce any work recently. Seemingly lacking space and equipment. Space: A concrete-floored room; Equipment: A wooden ramp, a video camera, the ability to edit avi work on Premiere. So simple but it bugs me so. Does this frustration actually mean I just might be labeled an artist? God forbid.

I need to get myself a sponsor to fund my unwholesome, confounding but interesting artwork. Or maybe a sugardaddy. Or… just someone who has more cash and space than me? That can not be too hard, surely?
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It was good. Really. I watched Phantom Menace today and it wasn’t as bad as I had remembered, with value and interest added through Revenge of the Sith. Jar Jar aside.

Episode III had lots of emotional moments. The maiming of Vader was horrifying- The method and the results. Quite upsetting.

Aaand, I managed to spot the Millennium Falcon docking at a spaceport in the background. Geek fun.

The dialogue was quite pedestrian (ie very bad) in places but the acting of Christensen seems to have perked up a bit. Oh, and the chain-breaking sequence was a bit suspect. He’s now Pretty Boy #2 on my list after SPF. I’m a sucker for those bad boys. Sigh.

The CGI creatures etc weren’t annoying or badly done and the story tied in well with the following three films. I want to see it again digitally so I can take in all the action in the battle at the start. More geek fun. I loved the fire ships that hosed down the spaceship at it came into land. The details are great. I can forgive the film’s failures quite easily as overall it worked well.
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Philly Mojo Solo

My last day of freedom…

Holiday update: I went to The Old Vic to see The Philadelphia Story. Twelve quid for a front row seat- Ah the delights of being under 25. A most pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I was left internally chastising myself after slimy Spacey first appeared on stage to great applause and general acclaim. Whistling and whooping. I immediately thought “How vulgar”- And there was me thinking I wasn’t a total snob. It’s just that no matter how famous the performer is I will sit on my hands and appreciate silently in my head until the end when I will applaud, yell etc (I can’t whistle) as appropriate. I just can’t belive that exact phrase popped into my head. Dear me.

Anyway, it was amusing. Lightweight, slightly cutting comedy. All sadly incomparible to the film version and Jennifer Ehle suffers when compared to the wonderful Ms. Box Office Poison for whom the role was written. A no-win situation. Probably best not to compare. Nice set and costumes, comic timing 9/10, believability of Dexter’s cruelty but unswerving true love 0/10. Unfathomably, I find the nickname of Red wonderfully romantic.

My, she was yar…

Started and finished A Fine Dark Line. Very good americana with genuinely disturbing moments. I don’t get unnerved often through literature but with this Lansdale I did. I like the way the Mojo Storyteller can write wonderful hallcinogenic tales and write “straight” works and also that they are all filled with the same small-town gone bad elements. If any literature is going to weird me out or disgust me it is Lansdale. I love him for it.

So, I finished my Solo outfit with about a half hour to spare and transported myself to bang my face. A really rather intimate venue ie dancing in a broom cupboard. Very kids tv. Me, Ewok Village Leia and Generic Jedi turned up outfitted as, erm, Han Solo, Ewok Village Leia and a guy in a cloak to find that only two other face bangers had bothered to dress Star Wars. Not very well either. If you’re going to go as Hoth Rebel Base Leia you’ve got to match your utility belt to the rest of your outfit. Duh.

A fun evening with variable music. Not enough Star Wars music in my opinion. Rar. Then on to 333 which was pretty shite. Grim, skanky and full of skanks. I’d been there for about 5 minutes before men stroked my arm as I went up the stairs and smacked me on the arse as I walked around the bar area. Hands to your white loafered selves you fucks.

Fleeing early we moved to the Brick Lane Beigel Bake for smoke salmon, tuna, salt beef and chocolate fudge cake. Polystyrene cups of tea and coffee and cartons of Ribena. Yummm. A bus, a train and another bus and we were home by 7.30am. Home to Patrick.

Sunday I made an raft in the buttercup and vetch meadow that is the back garden out of some cardboard and my sleepingbag. I spent the day afloat in the glorious sunshine (factor 15 naturally) devouring The Tattoo Murder case, slurping Ribena and watching the light on the maple leaves. Sigh.

The Takagi was really very good indeed. Interesting, thought-provoking and delightfully exotic. Maybe it’s the translations i’ve read but Japanese literature has an odd structure. Everything formal yet informal. I can’t explain why or give examples, it’s just a feeling I get. Now i’m on to Crime and Punishment. Why oh why do I always read the relatively easy to read works first?

Also caught The Fog of War– Meant to watch it on the big screen but as usual I couldn’t get my arse into gear. Excellent. Makes me want to find out more. I haven’t seen any other Errol Morris docs before- I must try and get hold of some.

Episode III Friday… (absentmindedly hums Imperial Deathmarch)

the very spit

Yeah so I didn’t have a blaster to hand. Deal with it.

Metaphilm: Star Wars- A Penetrating Analysis
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Saw Caravaggio: The Final Years

Saw Caravaggio: The Final Years and John Virtue, had lunch at Busaba Eathai, spotted Jayne Middlemiss (showbiz!!!!), had coffee at a Parisian patisserie. Bought me some Lansdale (A Fine Dark Line), Dostoyevsky (Crime and Punishment) and Takagi (The Tattoo Murder Case). Yay for leisurely reading.

The Caravaggio’s were wonderful, drama-filled panels of darkness emerging out of the sparse, gloomy spaces. The viewing conditions otherwise were dire. Cattle crush with people in their own, inconsiderate bubbles of audio narration, six or seven deep arcing around the paintings. Reading their guides, blocking the view, elbowing so they can get a prime spot to stand in the way. Or sitting on the benches in front of the pictures and expecting the area in front of the painting to stay clear. That’s cheating I think you’ll find. Fucks.

The Virtue pieces were also very pleasing, albeit in a different way. Black textured clouds floating across a mostly obscured London. Ink, acrylic and shellac. Interesting.

Bitter Lemon Press
Crime Masterworks
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Holiday. Celebrate.

I am on holiday for the next week and a half. What am I doing on my holiday?

Well, due to lack of funds I am not holidaying on Hawaii. I am however planning to spend my time sleeping, staying up late and watching dvds. The big outing of the week is my first visit to Bangface.

Project of the week therefore is constructing a Han Solo costume. I’m thinking cannibalised Ranger Vest, stretch jeans, striped ribbon and a cut down linen shirt. Aaand the Pirate boots. Genderbending fun. Hoorah. I shall have to practice my swagger.

If only I had the physique and confidence for the metal bikini.

Fly casual.
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A guy vigorously jabbing two

A guy vigorously jabbing two fingers up between the broad fishnet-clad thighs of his beloved in the street up against some scaffolding…

Being refused entry to a pub because I didn’t have ID (just got cards, a contract mobile, a tattoo and am 24)…

The lonely walk back home from the night bus…

Friday night.

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On a happier note, my housemate is now the (very) proud owner of Dogtanian and Godfather box sets. So I will be able to cadge some comfort in childrens television. Hoorah.

Said gal treated me to post-interview celebratory dinner last night too. I had the delights of Linguine Pescatore (tomato/chilli/garlic/parsley, squid, prawns, clams, mussels), Tartufo (look like cake, melt like mousse), Wine and Espresso. Yummm.
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Genital crayzeeness

Wow. Female Hyenas do not have vaginas. They copulate, urinate and give birth through an enlarged clitoris that looks like a phallus. Apparently, up to 10% of first time mothers die from total splitting of the phallus during labour. Makes a 4th degree episiotomy seem normal.

All this genital crazyness is due to the wonders of testosterone. Big muscles to power across the savannah, sharp teeth to grind you up with and a mock cock. Apparently, mating is comedic due to the male’s obvious fear of his paramour.

Anyone for a Female Pelvic Trainer?
WHO Episiotomy Guidelines
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From my point of view the interview appeared to go quite badly. I had to defend myself for the entire 45 minutes with a portfolio that was no backup to any of my points I tried to make. Consequently I could not make any points.

They were playing the tried and tested good cop/bad cop routine and at times I struggled to explain myself. Every question was an attack, with everything insinuating failure or deficiency. “Why haven’t you done any artwork recently? And saying you don’t have the time is just a little wet don’t you think?” This is before I had even opened my mouth to reply. I was trying very hard not to interrrupt as per my MO and was definitely not going to use that excuse. Rar.

Then I was told I couldn’t draw or create as was patently obvious from my portfolio and that I was “weird.” I was asked whether I would and could conform in a school environment (er, yes) and what I felt I could improve on. Printmaking and ceramics were immediately offered by myself as I haven’t had very much experience either on my degree or on foundation. “Oh, that’s rather a lot…” Sorry, Sir, give me a week at each and I’m damn sure I can do whatever a school child can throw at me. Yeah, clay. Isn’t the entire point of the course to learn? Yeah, I bit my tongue.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing or a good thing, but I was wondering why you have stayed so local? At my age I was clamouring to escape my home city… Are you not very parochial?”

Erm, if only I could remember what the hell that meant. “Parochial? In what context?” “You know, isolated from the world, cut off…?”

Riiight. So, it’s not a bad thing. But of course.

“Well it’s a combination of not having the need or desire to move and lacking the financial support to do so. Of course at times I would like to escape but I’ve never found the idea of backpacking around Australia picking grapes very enticing- To be honest I don’t think that would add very much to my life. I take pleasure in exploring my environment, collecting information and analysing it. I wouldn’t call myself isolated in any sense at all.”

You Fucks.

So after all of this interrogation and an essay to prove my literacy they offered me a place. Official in two weeks. Lah.
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The second time I have received flowers in my short life. Bless. Both times they have been bestowed upon myself by friends but not lovers. Seemingly I choose better people for my friends than those to fall in love with. If floral gifts are an indicator of moral standards and care. I am a lost cause.
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Hitchhiker’s was good, but didn’t entirely remove the mean reds from my weekend. Even the raspberry iceburst didn’t hit the spot. The almost life-sized poster of Captain Jack Sparrow I was gifted today went quite a way towards a return to emotional well being. Yes, men in mascara with tattoos, piratical accessories and a predilection for rum do it for me. It also helps that underneath it all lurks Johnny Depp. Lah.

Interview fun Tuesday. Ho hum…
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