in local news - very very very local news
i've gone temporarily deaf - its completely shite
and i rendered myself deaf in a comedy fashion first pioneered by chatt (eponymous hero of last post) by blowing my nose - to rid myself of the ills of a headcold i was stricken with yesterday. The guy with the megaphone is my cold
it's an annoying armchair general commenting on bbc news 24 perpetually.
also being at work ill is completely shite- there's annoying classical music humming smugly away to itself somewhere in the foreground - with my current deafness it just sounds like a fat violin mewing tunelessly to itself on a bus.
oh well
in other news - london elections are looming!
charlie brookers just posted this brilliant article on [cif] guardian, about the mop haired ruddy cheeked malevalant blackhole of a human being that is boris johnson.
[read here]
he's sum's it up perfectly!
don't vote for that cunt!
+++
chatts running the marathon today (he's a friend of mine i went to school and sixth form with) - amazing!
just watching some marathon coverage on tv now - he's a pro at this sort of thing - he's climbed everest, wrestled with moon lions and once jogged up mons olympus- i'm sure todays body wrecking exersion will be a piece of cake ;)
anyways - best of luck to him! hopefully we'll catch a snippet of him jogging past the cameras or something!
++
a musical milestone in the evolution of humanity
[benjaminharriman]
stumbled accross this fascinating article on seedmagazine:
[out of the blue]
i don't really have much to say about it -partly because i'm in no way even amateurishly qualified to, but more so that i've only plowed through page one of nine...if i were to shoot my mouth off now i could well risk falling into the 'stultifyingly pig-ignorant' demographic.
but it is pretty interesting.
also summer seems to be tentatively rearing it's bashful head (or at least spring; summer's flip-flopping squire), which is of course great- if you relish the sight of bleary-eyed-pasty-english-morlock folk crawling from their warrens to bask for well up to 10 minutes in the harsh unforgiving light of day before scowling for scurrying back to the shadows.
no summers great really - you get to pretend you like capri sun and suddenly pubs seems to lose the capacity to contain anyone actually within their confines -
good stuff
cider in the sun anybody?
++++++++
just came accross this fantastic slice of weirdness; [bjork's new video for 'wanderlust']
why can't london's streets be flooded with plastersine yaks? apparently the video is a mixture of live action, puppets, models and cgi. It looks amazing -particularly the opening shot where bjork claws out the land for the river!
the video's also giving me pangs of nostalgia for iceland - i spent a brief (and extortionate) week there on a field trip in my 2nd year. We went to a bar owned by Bjork, it had the character of a pretty standard trendy east end (of any city everywhere) bar mixed with a fishing chalet- and we met an opera singer (minor icelandic celebrity) who taught us how to cook mink whale steak. The whole country is packed to the rafters full of characters. The landscape is beyond compare of anywhere else i've visisted - it's not actually the most beautiful place in the world but it has a fringe/edge of the earth few other places capture. I imagine places like the antarctic and the danakil depression capture that feeling even better - but as of yet i haven't been to either (though i'd certainly love to).
Some of it looked almost exactly the same as the landscape in the film Aliens.
Also the makers of the video are here:
[encyclopediapictura]
i took quite a big step a couple of weeks ago towards looking like a bit of a wanker
i bought a foldy bike-the ultimate commuter accessory
not quite as practical as teleportation, but getting close. Its a regular dream machine.
we're still not sure what arcane uses the original inhabitants of Londinium devised for the foldable bike- and frankly i'm not really sure what uses i'm going to glean from the dvd extra fold function on my special edition bike - but at the end of the day it folds, and when you un-fold it, it still works (there's alot more than a quiet dignity in that).
go now and cut out a picture of a bike, then carefully fold it up, then unfold it...my bike does that- but isn't made out of paper, and works afterwards, and all the pieces are independant, and made out of metal and generic black stuff.
i imagine the bike to have a wry smile on at all times
still as i've never really riden a bike in london before i'm trying to learn the fine art of not becoming roadkill
not mine -it looks similer though
Pink Bedroom are friends!
Everyone should get themselves down to the Coutryard Theatre [near Old Street] to see the Pink Bedroom!
between 1st-27th April 2008
I won't embarrass myself by giving an awful synopsis - here's a link
[pink bedroom]
two complaints addressed to myself
a)there's no spelcheck on thos internet webseitweee(probobly al the java beans - thats a year 2000 reference) - i am ok at spelling- but i'm no wizard
b) everythings written in very small type- it strains my eyes- do you want me to go blind? why? why not in a larger typeface?
oh well
just on the egc-ceptional boing boing, found this link:
http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/columnists/miles-kington/high-court-hangups-747313.html
it details a nonsensical court proceeding, between a man accused of stealing 40,000 hotel coathangers, the counsel and the judge. Inspiring stuff for all budding smart arses, nonsense spouters and silver tongued twats.
an extract:
Counsel: Now, Mr Chrysler – for let us assume that that is your name – you are accused of purloining in excess of 40,000 hotel coat hangers.
Chrysler: I am.
Counsel: Can you explain how this came about?
Chrysler: Yes. I had 40,000 coats which I needed to hang up.
Counsel: Is that true?
Chrysler: No.
Counsel: Then why did you say it?
Chrysler: To attempt to throw you off balance.
Counsel: Off balance?
weirdly tho, it really reminds me of a fantastic book called ['the third policeman']
i've read it a couple of times now, its quite a bizarre book, a comedy of sorts, (a bit spike milligan-esque, and robert rankin's clearly inspired by that style of sky-larking prose) its also peppered by horror and faux intellectual musings. One of the themes in the book (i'm sure there's a term for it- some literary gubbins) is a made up philosopher named [de selby] - of whom the main character is writing a definitive introduction/critique of throughout the book.
among other bizarre comments made by de selby, he can't tell the difference between men and woman, dislikes film (because he insists on watching it frame by frame) - and thinks the night is caused by a substance known as 'black air'.
the whole thing is written like that court case; at one point one of the demonic policemen describes how a man had fallen in love with his bycycle and their atoms had begun to swap, meaning the man could no longer stand up and needed to be leant against a wall, lest he fell over.
also alot of the story takes place in bizarre and amazing locations; such as an impossible police station, which lacks a dimension, so seems like an impossible sharp triangular wedge - but with only two sides
and also a timeless, infinite and repetitive space made of machinery like ovens, each of which makes or is filled with odd objects (such as bicycles)
the whole thing is quite odd and difficult to describe, it doesn't really have a normal plot drive...its basically the bemused wanderings of a man who finds himself in a land which begins to reflect his demented logic (or at least so it seems).
brilliant stuff!
everyone should read it
woops completely forgot to update this for a while- i'm not very good at this blogging malarky -
in my absence i have:
not really been absent from anywhere - i've been largely stationary i think i spend the majority of my life either in bed or at my desk at work anyway (av. 8 hours sleep x7 + 8 hours at desk x5 = 96 hours per week- ... 168 hours (7days) - 96= 72 hours free per week)- that might be a tad depressing for some (me included) and time not spent in either of those (not quite so) luxiurious spaces i probly just waste walking around like a man on legs, and saying ill considered things - so maybe its best my stupidity is confined to two locations - otherwise i'd get bored and started talking rubbish to random people at bus stops - or at least do that alot more than i already do - which is too much
discovered all the podcasts on the guardian! amazing - science, tech, politics, daily, and the environmental (altho that occasionally makes me grind my teeth - when they do bizarre covers on 'ethical living' outlets in fucking portabello market et al - at best blithely confused)
+ the bugle - i urge everyone to listen - it's fantastic
[the bugle]
went to a gallery opening somewhere near old street -i can't rmemeber the artist- pretty good- good times had by all...free beer + a weird disco room - with flourescant dots on everything
organising my brothers stag party
consumed much food and drink - it would make me smile if at some point during this morning if i suddenly heard the backing up noise of a truck- i look out the window to the basement alley thing our office looks onto and i saw all the food and drink i've injected into my cakehole since new years dumped in one big pile - i could be proud of that mess - theni go over to the courier and sign for it- and then start filling up all the cupboards and shelf spaces with it.
last year while gardening me and chris thought that would be a great jape to play on our earstwhile employer
fill all the shelves and cupboards with the soil form the back garden - then ring him up and say 'yeh mate, bloody skip di'n't show up does it? don't worry pal- we sorted it out'
great stuff
missed a girltalk gig
missed a fuckbuttons gig
saw eastern promises, there will be blood, no country for old men, an american gangster - all great films
aidan's been staying on an off for the last couple of weeks like a mistress in denial - he keeps crawling back to his comfortable recording studio manse at jim and vicky's abode- my house is his bit of rough - he sleeps on a pouffe/fold out bed
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