The sun is returning. I went out to the Green and Stone’s in the Kings Road, which is by far my favourite Art Shop. I could happily spend all day in there, but would no doubt eventually be asked to leave. I bought some posh brushes and a selection of oil paints to buy myself some more time to wander around.
At the back of the shop is a ‘craft’ area where they sell things like quills, inks, parchment and antique chess sets.
And this evening I cooked a superlative Salmon Lasagne, not as superlative as my Chicken in Black Bean Sauce, but as lasagnes go, it was truly awesome.
‘The No 1 Ladies Detective Agency’ is back on TV. Hoorah!
Monday, 16 March 2009
Saturday 14 March 2009
I am still basking in glow of satisfaction from having seen Lord Mandelson drenched with a cup of green custard by an environmental protester. Hoorah! Give that woman a medal.
Friday 13 March 2009
I had a blessed day off from work today, working on my latest painting, which is entitled ‘Brad Pitt Helped Jail My Evil Dad’. It is a surrealist work featuring the Fish of Deception, and executed in oils on a large square canvas.
Last week I went out and bought a new webcam, since anybody who is anybody with a web presence needs to be seen to be real. Since then I have been besieged by people asking if they can view my cam. I am not sure what they expect to see, although in many cases it would seem to be my naked body. I usually decline such requests and disappoint people, since they will be inevitably disappointed anyway.
This evening I cooked a superlative Chicken in Black Bean sauce, a dish which was so good I would have had sex with myself in the hope of another bowlful.
Last week I went out and bought a new webcam, since anybody who is anybody with a web presence needs to be seen to be real. Since then I have been besieged by people asking if they can view my cam. I am not sure what they expect to see, although in many cases it would seem to be my naked body. I usually decline such requests and disappoint people, since they will be inevitably disappointed anyway.
This evening I cooked a superlative Chicken in Black Bean sauce, a dish which was so good I would have had sex with myself in the hope of another bowlful.
Thursday 12 March 2009
The Ugly One and I went to see ‘Watchmen’ this evening, which wasn’t at all what I was expecting. At three hours, it’s a bit of a lengthy experience, and a decent enough movie although I have to confess I fell asleep half way through and missed about ten minutes of the narrative.
I can’t say it was a successful production. The camerawork was excellent, as was the use of music. The director chose to use popular music tracks slotted in throughout the movie, and I was a bit surprised to realise that I have all the albums from which the tracks were taken (with the exception of ‘Unforgettable’, which was used to great effect juxtaposed against a scene of excessive violence at the outset).
What it lacked was coherence in the internal logic of the film. I have not read the graphic novel on which this was based, but can see it working in that format. Transferred to reality, the viewer begins to wonder at the mixture of ordinary humans dressed as superheroes, and those who do have extra-human qualities. What, for instance, is the nature of Rorschach’s mask? Wikipedia tells me that the mask is made from a material made by Dr Manhattan, but this is not made clear in the film (unless it happened when I was asleep).
The ‘human’ superheroes are superstrong and superfast, with no explanation as to how this came about.
One can see this working as a miniseries directed by someone like David Lynch, who is well-used to incorporating surreal incongruities into his productions, but as a singular movie it tries to cover far too much ground with little room left to develop the individual characters.
I can’t say it was a successful production. The camerawork was excellent, as was the use of music. The director chose to use popular music tracks slotted in throughout the movie, and I was a bit surprised to realise that I have all the albums from which the tracks were taken (with the exception of ‘Unforgettable’, which was used to great effect juxtaposed against a scene of excessive violence at the outset).
What it lacked was coherence in the internal logic of the film. I have not read the graphic novel on which this was based, but can see it working in that format. Transferred to reality, the viewer begins to wonder at the mixture of ordinary humans dressed as superheroes, and those who do have extra-human qualities. What, for instance, is the nature of Rorschach’s mask? Wikipedia tells me that the mask is made from a material made by Dr Manhattan, but this is not made clear in the film (unless it happened when I was asleep).
The ‘human’ superheroes are superstrong and superfast, with no explanation as to how this came about.
One can see this working as a miniseries directed by someone like David Lynch, who is well-used to incorporating surreal incongruities into his productions, but as a singular movie it tries to cover far too much ground with little room left to develop the individual characters.
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Tuesday 3 March 2009
I have been very remiss in recording the details of my recent adventures and debauchery, although it has to be said that the debauchery of late has been in very short supply. Since the 10 February I have had a cold which, of the last two weeks, has lingered in the nostrils and caused me to sneeze at inappropriate times.
I also lost my phone last week, so to those of you who have my mobile number, I would urge you to text me, letting me know who you are, in order that I can re-phonebook you and maintain intermittent textual contact.
I went to my boss’s leaving party the night I lost my phone. My mate Bradley, an Australian with a penchant for extreme behaviour, wanted to cut holes in my t-shirt so that my nipples would show.
‘No,’ I told him. ‘I wish to retain an air of mystery.’
I also lost my phone last week, so to those of you who have my mobile number, I would urge you to text me, letting me know who you are, in order that I can re-phonebook you and maintain intermittent textual contact.
I went to my boss’s leaving party the night I lost my phone. My mate Bradley, an Australian with a penchant for extreme behaviour, wanted to cut holes in my t-shirt so that my nipples would show.
‘No,’ I told him. ‘I wish to retain an air of mystery.’
Monday 2 March 2009
Last night we watched David Lynch's 'Inland Empire'. 3 hours! It's brilliant in an incomprehensible way, and has people with rabbit heads. This evening we saw Harry Hill, although I suspect he is also Hugh Firmly-Wherewithall with a curly wig on. You never see them in the same room.
I subsequently hied me up the stairs to beddy-bye land now, and spent a quiet hour plotting the downfall of Celine Dion. She has to be stopped!!!
I subsequently hied me up the stairs to beddy-bye land now, and spent a quiet hour plotting the downfall of Celine Dion. She has to be stopped!!!
Friday 20 February 2009
Ode to Katie Price
Katie Price
Is not very nice
Her husband Peter
Is not much sweeter
On my boss's leaving card I wrote 'I won't miss the cleavage and the cat food.' She eats a species of tuna which smells like whiskas. Despite all pleas and threats of violence she has never desisted. She also wears the kind of dresses which one can only describe as ‘open plan’.
I have given her manager a list of quotable quotes which she has come out with over the last year or so, some of which are listed below:-
‘Are Catholics Christians then?’
‘Chinese? Are they communists?’
‘It must have been hard in the olden days without computers.’
‘Is cannabis not legal, then?’
‘We haven’t had any hunchbacks since Nostradamus, have we? Was he a real person, the one with the bells?’
‘Didn’t the French and English fight each other in the First World War? I know they played football at Christmas.’
‘I couldn’t eat an alligator. They look too much like reptiles.’
‘Adults don’t get hiccups.’
‘Grown men don’t get tonsillitis.’
‘You can’t attack the church. You’re unravelling two thousand years of rhetoric.’
‘Isn’t it true that pregnant women spit a lot?’
‘Help me! I’m on a woman on the edge!’
‘If people meditate, they open themselves up to get possessed. It’s true.’
‘I rely on e-mail and my e-mail has gone down! My life is officially over!’
‘Is it racist to call someone a Scottish idiot? I thought racism was just about skin colour.’
Katie Price
Is not very nice
Her husband Peter
Is not much sweeter
On my boss's leaving card I wrote 'I won't miss the cleavage and the cat food.' She eats a species of tuna which smells like whiskas. Despite all pleas and threats of violence she has never desisted. She also wears the kind of dresses which one can only describe as ‘open plan’.
I have given her manager a list of quotable quotes which she has come out with over the last year or so, some of which are listed below:-
‘Are Catholics Christians then?’
‘Chinese? Are they communists?’
‘It must have been hard in the olden days without computers.’
‘Is cannabis not legal, then?’
‘We haven’t had any hunchbacks since Nostradamus, have we? Was he a real person, the one with the bells?’
‘Didn’t the French and English fight each other in the First World War? I know they played football at Christmas.’
‘I couldn’t eat an alligator. They look too much like reptiles.’
‘Adults don’t get hiccups.’
‘Grown men don’t get tonsillitis.’
‘You can’t attack the church. You’re unravelling two thousand years of rhetoric.’
‘Isn’t it true that pregnant women spit a lot?’
‘Help me! I’m on a woman on the edge!’
‘If people meditate, they open themselves up to get possessed. It’s true.’
‘I rely on e-mail and my e-mail has gone down! My life is officially over!’
‘Is it racist to call someone a Scottish idiot? I thought racism was just about skin colour.’
Tuesday 10 February 2009
you, in the key shop
stared with a locked face. i have
the combination
I got home late, and a sore throat is creeping up on me like an itchy stalker. I fear I will become ill.
stared with a locked face. i have
the combination
I got home late, and a sore throat is creeping up on me like an itchy stalker. I fear I will become ill.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Monday 9 February 2009
the picture framer
has walls hung with dark corners
they will surround me
I have recently painted a portrait of my friend Robert in the style of Van Gogh. He is looking very miserable in the photograph I took of him (upon which the portrait is based) with a roll-up balanced on the end of his lip.
I took the painting into our local picture framers and had to select a frame, a talent which I discovered, to my horror, I do not possess.
‘It’ll be ready in a week,’ the nice lady said, having sorted me out with a tasteful and suitable frame. On the receipt she had written ‘Colourful man smoking a cigarette’ which is as good a description of Robert as I could have wished for.
has walls hung with dark corners
they will surround me
I have recently painted a portrait of my friend Robert in the style of Van Gogh. He is looking very miserable in the photograph I took of him (upon which the portrait is based) with a roll-up balanced on the end of his lip.
I took the painting into our local picture framers and had to select a frame, a talent which I discovered, to my horror, I do not possess.
‘It’ll be ready in a week,’ the nice lady said, having sorted me out with a tasteful and suitable frame. On the receipt she had written ‘Colourful man smoking a cigarette’ which is as good a description of Robert as I could have wished for.
Sunday 8 February 2009
‘don’t kiss me,’ i said
‘i’ll only taste of biscuits.’
then i ran away
I had another day in the sauna, and met a very nice man called Joel. I was also chatted up by a man called Barry from South Wales at the coffee counter, who was chatting away to me about snow and tube stations while I nibbled on a ginger crumble. Quite out of the blue he leaned forward and tried to kiss me, and all I could think of to say was ‘Don’t! I taste of biscuits!’ which provoked a few sniggers from the fish tank area.
‘i’ll only taste of biscuits.’
then i ran away
I had another day in the sauna, and met a very nice man called Joel. I was also chatted up by a man called Barry from South Wales at the coffee counter, who was chatting away to me about snow and tube stations while I nibbled on a ginger crumble. Quite out of the blue he leaned forward and tried to kiss me, and all I could think of to say was ‘Don’t! I taste of biscuits!’ which provoked a few sniggers from the fish tank area.
Wednesday 4 February 2009
saunas have fish tanks
always. there must be a law
or local statute
After a long period of abstinence or to be honest, ignorance, I visited a sauna. Had I not been ignorant of its existence I would no doubt have visited before now, since it is situated very conveniently just off Edgware Road.
As seems to be standard, there is a sauna, a steamroom, a video room and a nice lounge with free coffee and a big fishtank. Every sauna, it seems, has to have a fishtank.
It is a clean and friendly venue, and I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who offered to take me up the back corridor for a cup of tea.
On this occasion I declined politely and opted for a free coffee in the open-plan lounge.
always. there must be a law
or local statute
After a long period of abstinence or to be honest, ignorance, I visited a sauna. Had I not been ignorant of its existence I would no doubt have visited before now, since it is situated very conveniently just off Edgware Road.
As seems to be standard, there is a sauna, a steamroom, a video room and a nice lounge with free coffee and a big fishtank. Every sauna, it seems, has to have a fishtank.
It is a clean and friendly venue, and I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who offered to take me up the back corridor for a cup of tea.
On this occasion I declined politely and opted for a free coffee in the open-plan lounge.
Tuesday 3 February 2009
painting the van gogh
i’m still not crazy enough
to catch the madness
People complain far too much, I have decided. After the day of doing nothing, yesterday, complaints have poured in to anyone likely to listen, whining about schools being closed, buses not running, and the powers that be not having been ready for the snow.
I am apathetic about this, since it is a symptom of the British Condition. We are seldom ready for anything, apart from complaining.
i’m still not crazy enough
to catch the madness
People complain far too much, I have decided. After the day of doing nothing, yesterday, complaints have poured in to anyone likely to listen, whining about schools being closed, buses not running, and the powers that be not having been ready for the snow.
I am apathetic about this, since it is a symptom of the British Condition. We are seldom ready for anything, apart from complaining.
Monday 2 February 2009
a soft invasion
covered the streets in minutes
closed the city down
My week off from work did not start well since I awoke in Narnia. The world outside the window was deep in snow and the city was, it seemed, so cursed by the White Witch that all buses and trains had been turned to stone.
The Ugly One set out with all good intentions of getting to work, but soon returned, and we spent a quiet day at home, interrupted only by a feral child throwing a snowball at our window.
Not wanting my free days to count for nothing, I spent a couple of hours painting and, when the light became too dim to paint, went to work designing a crossbow capable of bringing down a medium sized child before one snowball could leave its hand.
covered the streets in minutes
closed the city down
My week off from work did not start well since I awoke in Narnia. The world outside the window was deep in snow and the city was, it seemed, so cursed by the White Witch that all buses and trains had been turned to stone.
The Ugly One set out with all good intentions of getting to work, but soon returned, and we spent a quiet day at home, interrupted only by a feral child throwing a snowball at our window.
Not wanting my free days to count for nothing, I spent a couple of hours painting and, when the light became too dim to paint, went to work designing a crossbow capable of bringing down a medium sized child before one snowball could leave its hand.
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