A slow, snug sunday

A safe, slow, Sunday, spent staying in;

Messing around on Facebook and google, listening to Lyn.

Skyping my Dad, getting news of Mum, Luke and Mark.

Chilling out indoors, while outside it grows dark.

Aye, a truly nice sunday, not doing much at all,

Snug in my office watching evening fall.

True, I often like to be out, relishing every bit of life;

But today I just wanna be here, at home with my future Wife.

Concerning the new star wars trailer

I wouldn’t be much of a blogger, internet denizen and media commentator if I didn’t say anything about the new star wars trailer. I came across it last night on my ipad, when I was in the pub, and have just rewatched it. What can I say? Oh Please! I still maintain that this is a film that should never have been made: the Star wars story, the rise and fall of Aniken Skywalker, has been told; what remains is fluff, a sequence of oversaturated images, shown in quick succession, intended to appear dramatic and ominous yet totally lacking any artistic merit. Neither star wars fans nor the hacks who make it can face the fact that their franchise has now been eclipsed by far more complex, deeper narratives, like Lord of the Rings, so they start to churn out cliched bull like this. It’s a kid’s film, made by disney, directed by that total muppet JJ Abrams, but you just know it will have fanboys the world over wetting their pants with glee. Give me a bat’leth over one of those laughable new lightsabers any day!

Still needing something new to squeal about

I still think I need something new to squeal about. I’ve had my three filmic fascinations for years, but Bond, Star Trek and Lord of the Rings are all so mainstream, I now need to get myself off the beaten track. Of course, I’ll probably always love all three: I wrote about my fascination with bond and trek in my thesis; I’m still more than a little obsessed with 007’s Olympic appearance, probably in part because it echoes the parachute jump in The Spy who Loved me, one of my cinephilliac moments; and meeting Patrick stewart was undoubtably one of the most special events of my life, again in part because it relates to my work. Thus it seems to me that all my obsessions are interrelated, usually having some sort of connection with London 2012 Olympics, my masters thesis, or London in general. In fact I once tried to roughly sketch out those relationships; what I want to do now is get away from that network.

In other words, I think it’s time to expand my horizons. I still have the problem I wrote about here. I need to find something more niche, less well known. Similarly, having been to mega-events like the paralympic closing ceremony and python’s last performance , I think I now need to start hunting down smaller, more intimate gigs. It is as if the big stuff can now be ticked off, so I can now start to investigate the smaller things. The question is, how? One cannot deliberately search for an obsession – they usually just spring on you when you least expect, just as pieces of awesomeness can occur at any given time. What I need to, the, is keep my eyes open, be vigilant and curious, and try to stop reverting to my usual mainstream interests.

News round-up

Having got politics off my chest earlier, I find myself wanting to write about so much today. There are the riots in america, which, while one can never condone violence, I cannot help but agree with and back. There’s the appalling news that people with learning disabilities are being abjectly failed, thrown into homes – surely a step backwards towards the darkest days of disability. There’s the slightly better news that advertising on video blogs is going to be regulated slightly more. Personally, I am utterly contemptuous of people who use their blogs to get money by flogging stuff – what a sell out. Now, excuse me while I sip my delicious Coke. Above all, though, inspired by this news about a singing nun rising through the Itallian nun with such hits as ”Like A virgin” (you really couldn’t make it up, could you?) I feel utterly compelled to direct you to this Frank Zappa classic. Amen.

(As you can probably tell, I have my computer back. Yay!)

My usual wednesday rage

It’s wednesday again, and once again I have spent the last half hour yelling at the tv, becoming angrier and angrier as that arrogant, unelected prick CaMoron tells us how wonderful he is, how well he and his party are doing, and how fortunate we all are to have him as prime minister. I’m sick of it. It really rubs me up; I find myself shaking with rage as I think of the suffering he and his party have caused through their cuts, only to watch him try to blame all our woes on labour. It was Labour who started the recovery, and the economy is doing well despite, not because of, what that barely numerate prick George Osbourne is doing. But now we have to watch the tories hijack the credit, thinking they can sneer and jeer at those who actually care, patting themselves on the back for lowering taxes while people reliant on benefit starve. It is utterly infuriating. I’m sure it worries Lyn to get so angry, but too see those tory scumbags impose their childish neoliberal views on us is almost too much to bear. I want the fuckers out!

Truly unstoppable

As we drove home in the taxi last night, I was struck once again by what an awesome city we live in. London had done it again. Last nights screening up at the Royal College of Physicians went very well indeed: the shot film with Lyn and myself was played film, then the main film, followed by a question and answer session. It struck me as a triumph, although I suspect that a few of my friends in the crip community may raise one or two questions. They used lyn’s score well: it was not too overt, but really helped set the mood of the film, just as non-diagetic music should. It made me feel really proud to hear it: whenever it was introduced, I thought, that’s my Lyn!

What remains, of course, is for the film to be marketed. It is apparently doing well in Spain (after all, it is a documentarry about Spanish paracyclists). With any luck, someone at channel four or the Beeb will see it and pick it up, but time will tell. Now, though, I feel very excited: what I saw last night has very great potential indeed, and is gaining momentum. I cannot wait to see what happens next.


A dull day, but tomorrow …

I suppose I can’t complain, given the frequency with which awesome things happen, but today has been a dull, slow day. I have barely moved from the sofa. It has been raining all day, which always dampens my mood. Tomorrow, on the other hand, should be much more interesting: you may recall me noting a while ago that Lyn was asked to compose the score for The Unstoppables, a Spanish documentarry about paracyclists. Well, tomorrow is its first screening, up at the royal college of physicians, and guess who is invited! I can barely believe we are going to my first proper premier. I have been wondering what to wear all day – part of me really wants to go in my tux.

Ned is a bad parent, not Homer

I was just watching an old episode of the Simpsons and I was struck by a thought worth noting. It was the episode where the homer and marge are judged unfit parents and are fostered by Flanders. Ned then learns that Bart, Lisa and Maggie were never baptised, and has an apoplexy. I noted how he immediately resolves that Homer and Marge were indeed bad parents. I know it is a cartoon, but that struck me as a perfect example of religious hypocracy of religion and the folly of it. How does being religious make one in any way a better person? Indeed, I would argue that ned is by far the worse parent, for it is he who indoctrinates his children into a strict conservative worldview, demanding they believe all kinds of fiction and refusing to let them think. From an objective standpoint, surely that counts as abuse, yet society allows people like Flanders, even praising them. That strikes me as troubling: through religion, kids are being lied to and abused, and society hypocritically allows it.

Breaking down outside the barracks

I don’t usually like the army. I try, as a rule, to avoid the military. There are far better ways to solve the problems of the world than through bombs and guns. But when your heading out for your Friday night drink, and the bolt on your front wheel breaks just outside the woolwich barracks, those guys can be very helpful indeed. Thanks guys – I owe you.

Two sets of jokers

I was right: watching monty Python live on DVD didn’t even compare to watching them in the flesh up at the dome. Yet last night, having gone to buy a new DVD player in Woolwich, I was glad I did. Not only did it refresh my memory, but, of course, I was able to get more out of it through a second viewing. My studies in both film and literature teaches me that one should never adress a text just once. Thus late last night saw me on the sofa howling my head of, yet also remembering that fabulous night, and trying to spot myself in the audience.

This morning, though, sees me on the sofa again, worrying about a completely different set of jokers. The March of ukip is more frightening than any killer bunny, and what stands to happen in Rochester tonight concerns me very much indeed. We have a group of people with a simplistic, xenophobic worldview, who, by grouping together to call themselves a political party, seem to have completely hijacked the politics and mindset of the country. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sickening and stupid; how I wish Professor Hawking would come and run that twit Farage over.