| BABY, I'VE BEEN BREAKING GLASS IN YOUR ROOM AGAIN |
[30 Dec 2008|10:40pm] |
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mood |
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So you've all probably noticed I don't really post here any more. Truth is I have a new journal. Time for change. If any of you are so inclined, don't hesitate to get in touch with me - chrismorris84@hotmail.com - and I may even return the favour.
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| SITH HAPPENS |
[12 Mar 2008|08:11pm] |
I'm in kind of a Sith mood, at the minute.
That's not a typo, or some sort of clever-clever FCUK dig*, I'm just feeling kind of Sith. The power of the dark side.
And this is a danger, because; not many people know this, but I am actually a Jedi.
No, really. I crave not adventure nor excitement. I feel deep and great love and empathy for all living things. I have the patience of a saint. I can move objects without physically touching them. (Commonly believed to be by power of the mind: but more accurately ascribed to the power of the force).
There's not actually many of us left, so we tend to stick to protecting our loved ones rather than the universe (though as I mentioned; our loved ones tends to be just about everyone we meet), but still I must not succumb to the lure of the dark side. I feel it eating away at me... a contempt for all the idiots in the world that I usually know and love (not you Joss, even Sith-me thinks you're a hottie).
I feel it strongest when I see photographs of myself. I'm not someone who concerns myself much with the physical world - mind on higher things, you see - but when Joss posts photos of me and I see them I'm struck with... well, the sort of Dark Side pangs that gets planets destroyed. I know I'm not the only person in the world who thinks they look bad in pictures - Heck, it's borderline universal - but when Joss posts a picture of me I'm riddled with uncharacteristic insecurity.
What the Hell is that beautiful, intelligent, lovely young lady, I imagine you all thinking, in your masses, doing with that tubby, arse-faced-lookin' loser?
And then I think: how dare they all think that?? I will go over to the dark side and unleash all the rage that a Jedi lets go over their heads and destroy them all (and their homes (and their families (and their dogs (and their favourite high school teachers (and their favourite sporting teams (and their favourite celebrities (and their favourite websites (and all that they hold good and pure in the universe (muahahahahahaha!!!))))))))).
But I admit, that's not very fair.
It's probably all Lou Reed's fault. I decided to marathon all of his albums lately, so this last week he's all I've listened to. He can bring out Sith-like tendencies, what with his grumpy old man worldview and all. I came to the concluion that - having distanced myself from the buyer's remorse that accompanied some of them - I actually dig all of his albums, to some extent. I thought long and hard as the marathon concluded which one I had liked the least. The Raven was a contender - with its occasional dips into cheesy operatics and dumb, sucky songs ("These are the stories of Edgar Allan Poe / Not exactly the boy next door", croaks Reed on one song, numerous times, to mind-numbing what-the-fuck? effect), but between Steve Buscemi, Willem Dafoe and just the dog-goshed ostentatiousness of the project, I like it in spite of itself.
I came to the conclusion that Mistrial, the most sloppily produced and patchy of his '80s efforts, was probably my least favourite. And that one's, y'know, not too shabby for an '80s pop/rock album by a long-in-the-tooth rock'n'roller.
Not to focus on the negative, then, my Top 5 Lou Reed Albums, baby, yeah!:
Transformer
Berlin
Sally Can't Dance
Metal Machine Music
Street Hassle
I know, I've included not one but two albums generally considered to be among the bottom of the Lou Reed barrel. But what can I say, I loves'em.
I kind of want to do Neil Young next, but I only own 12 of his 30+ albums, so... I guess that's not going to happen any time soon.
Maybe after I get the £30,000+ settlement that makes me insurmountably more attractive to the opposite sex than my photogenic capabalities suggest possible.
The Raven did encourage me to seek out and read Poe for the first time ever today, which I guess - more than anything else - is probably Reed's intention with the album. So, job done. I read "The Raven" itself, and short(er than I expected) story "The Tell Tale Heart". Both were very good.
Also, on FIFA, I've scored 25 goals with Sunderland, in five matches - a feat that the real team hasn't accomplished since, ooooh, ever, I'd wager. That said I did sell all of their players and import an assortment from all around the world first, so if the real manager had the sort of budget you can (far too easily) get together on FIFA '05, then well, maybe.
Also, I've applied for a new job. A 40-hour assistant manager gig with a rival bookmakers. I handed my application in five days ago, and today have rushed to answer the phone on multiple times thinking it might be them. On one occasion it was an Indian call centre worker who actually made fun of me. I told him I thought I paid £15 a month for my phone. "You're not sure?", he inquired - "No", I straight up replied in that no-bullshit-to-the-point approach I use with call centre workers. He asked me how old I was. I told him I'm 23, because I am and being a Jedi means being honest, generally.
"And you don't know how much you're paying for your phone?", he asked, while chuckling at me.
I felt the hate flow through me, just like Luke did towards the end of Episode VI, and in one swift moment I hung up on that son of a bitch. When I realised I'd inherited my father's finger I realised my transition to the dark side was inevitable.
In Oscar news: I loved Juno, but No Country For Old Men was a fine winner as well. There Will Be Blood I really enjoyed also, and thought Day-Lewis deserved his win. Have yet to see them other two Best Picture nominees. But I continue to be boggled by the Academy's relationship with Johnny Depp. I love Johnny Depp, but the three roles he's been nominated for (Captain Jack Sparrow, JM Barrie, Sweeney Todd)?? Not really three of his better performances, in my book. Now his performance in Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas - that's one that should have seem him clashing swords with Kevin Spacey's plate-throwing dope-smoking American Beauty performance.
Wait, no, I've got my years muddled up. One year earlier. Roberto Benigni, blah blah blah. And where was Johnny? Not even nominated! Guess the academy was too busy being intimidated by Mr. Weinstein into giving Shakespeare In Love Best Picture. Pah!
In other film news, saw The Squid And The Whale recently. Loved it. Very funny, very astute little messed up divorcedy. Joss liked it almost as much, but couldn't embrace it to the same extent because of the "horrible" characters. I felt it was all perception.
Her father, like me, is a Jedi. And so compared to her own upbringing the Jeff Daniels character came off a bit Darth Maul. But then my father was a regular fuckin' Darth Vader (albeit with no real understanding of the force), so in comparison, Darth Maul didn't actually seem all that bad.
Heck, I can relate to Darth Maul. I imagine it was seeing photos of himself in his girlfriend's blog that caused him to turn over to the dark side. I mean seriously; what the fuck is up with that dude's face? No-one else looks like that in the Star Wars universe! And then he gets cut in half. And I think I have problems.
I remember in college, there was speculation among my peers that Darth Maul was going to return in Episode II with mechanical legs. I thought they were all a bunch of idiots. A line of thought I recognise retrospectively as a path to potential Sithdom, but nontheless I'm pleased that both time and George Lucas turned out to be on my side of the argument.
And I think that's about the shape of it. Catch you later, fuckholes.
Haha, jeez. I'm sorry. Don't worry, next time I update I'll probably be on a Paul McCartney marathon instead, and then my potential Sithness will be kept down to a low, low simmer.
OR WILL IT...??? MWAHAHAHA!
*well, the subject line is, I guess - but I came up with that at the very end of the message. i.e. right before writing this explanation thereof. you get the idea.
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[16 Jan 2008|09:43pm] |
Our laptop is a piece of shit, and furthermore our internet has been down for a while. So I'm waaaaaay out of the loop. But I'd like not to be, in 2008. I even intend to make frequent and silly updates! - if I can drag myself away from naked ladies and Fifa.
Sooooooooo...... what I miss?
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| Flicks I've Seen In October |
[26 Nov 2007|07:27pm] |
Friday The 13th Part VII: The New Blood (1988)
xth viewing
Ridiculously enjoyable slice of latter-day Friday, with the franchise's most boo-hissable 'villain' (an exploitative psychologist who actually uses the heroine's mum as a human shield!), paintballing co-workers who try their luck against zombie Jason and - at the film's core - a showdown that's Carrie Vs Jason in all but name. And just about as awesome as that suggests. A delerious high mark in what's quickly becoming my favourite horror franchise of them all.
Friday The 13th: The Final Chapter (1984)
xth viewing
Another entry that manages to squeeze in more fun than you can shake your machete at: a would-be-hero out to avenge his sister who doesn't last five seconds when he finally meets Jason, a rowdy, crazy house of teens just dying to get down to it, characters loaded with neuroses (and that awful fear of being "a dead fuck"), "where's the God damn corkscrew, Ted?!" and - of course - that spectacular somewhat nonsensical finale of Corey Feldman Vs Jason. I ask you: what's not to love?
Where The Buffalo Roam (1980)
A wildly entertaining ride, with Bill Murray a fine Hunter S. Thompson. Suffers in comparison with Gilliam's Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, perhaps, but then that's hardly fair.
Hannibal (2001)
xth viewing
I dig Hannibal. Or more accurately, I guess, I dig Hannibal. He's a cool character to hang with, watch him lecture, torture and hopelessly outwit his adversaries. Whether it's feeding them their own brains, or simply, pointedly, not letting them get ahold of his fingerprints.
The film itself isn't quite so smart, riddled with flaws - most pertinently Ray Liotta's caricatured part and the what-the-stupid-fuck?? cock-a-bulloo ending. No wonder Harris and the whole saga was forced to hide in prequel-ville henceforth.
Still, as is typical for a Ridley Scott film, it's worth overlooking the flaws as there's still some freaking great cinema in there worth - ha-hem - knawing into. Any scene with Gary "Faceless" Oldman is also a particular pleasure.
Halloween (2007)
After The Devil's Rejects one of - perhaps the - most original and brilliant horror films of the decade, comes this remake of one of the most original and brilliant horror films of the '70s. Bit backwards, that.
The film splits neatly in two, first comes Halloween: The Early Years (or: Hallotween, if you will) followed swiftly by Halloween: The Remake. 'The Early Years' is more-or-less cool - more of a grisly biopic than a horror film, it chronicles a young man from a dysfunctional family and his obsessions with the gothier things in life.
It bares only superficial similarities to the actual Halloween backstory, though - so why this isn't just an original Zombie piece is anyone's guess.
And it all comes to a thudding halt when we get into the straight-up remake half of the, um, remake. With lead characters underwritten, underdeveloped and unlikeable - and a camerman who doesn't so much leave Myers in the corners of the imagination as much as follows him everywhere like a freaking puppy - there's no tension, no suspense, and no freaking fun, either. Just a man in a mask, killing a couple of dumb-ass bitches who think molestation humour is a suitable way to wind up their parents. Huh.
Not just inferior to the original Halloween, possibly the weakest of the nine films to bare the name. Certainly dud of the freaking month.
Day Watch (2006)
Cool crazy sensory overload. Lacks the self-importance of the truly great, but still a fun ride.
Friday The 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan (1989)
xth viewing
Grisly inventive death on a boat (and briefly in Manhattan)! Not one of the best Friday's, but still a hoot and a half, by any reasonable measure.
Run, Fat Boy, Run (2007)
So-so comedy with Simon Pegg in an unusually forumulaic redemption-through-running comedy. Gets the job done, just about, but it's a photo finish between 'satisfying' and 'mediocre'...
The Searchers (1956)
My records indicate that I liked The Searchers pretty well (a 7/10 on the IMDB), but the truth is - as with most westerns that I get through in an attempt to brush up on the classics - I really don't remember it. Which is pretty much why I make these entries. Which is proving counter-productive today. Anyway. Um. Not the best western I've ever seen, but good enough?
A Beautiful Mind (2001)
Cracking yarn. Gorgeously directed. Dazzling performance from Crowe. A pleasant surprise all-round. And it was the only best picture winner I hadn't seen this side of Driving Miss Daisy, so that's the last 17 brushed up on.
Face/Off (1997)
2nd viewing
Nicolas Cage is stunning as both good guy and bad, in this trippy, funny, action-packed blast of a movie. Travolta lets the side down from time to time, but still has his moments of evil genius.
Jason X (2001)
xth viewing
After taking Manhattan in part VIII, and finally revealing himself to having been some sort of slug all along in part IX, Jason does the only logical thing left - gets himself frozen for hundreds of years, and then takes on space. It's a rare horror series that makes it up to a tenth installment, and Jason wears his elder statesman title well - still inventively slicing and dicing after all these years. The humour can err into schlocky dumb-assedness, but a fun, solid flick.
The Night Of The Hunter (1955)
Scary, brilliant old fable of love, hate, an evil preacher, some sweet kids and a load of dosh. A bit on the demented side - think Lynch, in the '50s - but well brill and unmissable. Gem of the month.
Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid (1973)
Sweet Peckinpah western with Bob freakin' Dylan, among others. Cool.
Saw IV (2007)
Another great Saw sequel, and enough to cement the series as a full-on great franchise. Anyone who's seen the original trilogy will know it seems like there's not much left to tell, but Saw IV keeps on peeling that onion, and keeps finding treasure. Lacks in the oomphful final twist stakes compared to parts one through three, but makes up for it with bloodtastic set pieces and intriguing flashbacks. Roll on Saw V, all ready!
Stardust (2007)
I didn't like Layer Cake, so was apprehensive about Vaughn's sophomore effort - but Stardust's a freaking blast. Great cast (including DeNiro and Gervais - sharing screen time no less!) having a ball, crazy old world of magic and imagination... the kind of swords 'n' sorcery rollercoaster that doesn't come along nearly often enough - neither self-important nor high-camp, black as the hearts of men and fluffy like a cloud. A very pleasant surprise, then.
Halloween (1978)
xth viewing
So much better than the remake, I could cry blood. Scary, inventive, influential piece of horror with well-developed, likeable characters and some sort of boogie man lurking in the shadows back there... Essential horror viewing.
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| Flicks I've Seen In September |
[03 Oct 2007|01:54pm] |
The Prestige (2006)
2nd viewing
So, it's the late 1800s. And we've got these magicians. Played by Christian Bale (Batman) and Hugh Jackman (Wolverine). Chortle now, because once their flame-hot acting kicks in, you'll be too busy being enthralled to think about superheroes, baby.
So, Bale is all set to be executed for the seemingly open-shut murder of Jackman. But this being a film about magicians and trickery, you'll be excused for looking under the surface some. The narrative strands we follow are, chronologically, all over the freaking place - Bale reading Jackman's diary from his cell (for Jackman's murder, naturally) one minute, Jackman reading Bale's the next. Bale reading about Jackman reading his, and various other delightful little details!
And that's about all I think I'm going to say. Hahah. One of last year's very finest films, by God and - with its multitute of twists, the magnitude of the performances (see also: one Michael Caine in fine form!) - dare I say director Christopher Nolan might just have crafted an even better flick than 2000's similarly astounding Memento. Thoroughly recommended, like.
It's A Boy Girl Thing (2006)
Prissy, nerdy, Shakespeare-spouting virgin girl and loutish, rap-loving football-playing bimbo-shagger wake up, one sunny morning, not only in one anothers' beds, but one anothers' bodies! Wow!
Initial attempts at ruining one anothers' reputations with their respective crowds are respectably sniggersome, but we're down to straight up off-the-peg romantic-comedy bullshit by (ready for this?) the big freaking dance at the end.
A bit ruder, funnier and smarter than your average high-school romp, but falls well short of the greats. Pretty much the runt of the body-swap litter, then.
The Departed (2006)
2nd viewing
Not just one of last year's best films, but a full on out-and-out Scorcese classic. A feast of amazing and diverse performances, unparalleled use of a soundtrack, gorgeously directed acts of fuck-off violence, and a freaking gripping old yarn, to the end.
The Rock (1996)
xth viewing
Simply one of my all-time favourite action films. Cage and Connery are both spot-on, as the action sequences - particularly that big old Cage-Connery mass-mayhem car-chase. Aaaah.
Family Man (2000)
Less action, but no less Nicolas Cage: this time as a big-shot New York stocks guy who wakes up one Christmas day to find himself living a parallel life - married to the college sweetheart he left for work, and with two kids to call his own. He now sells tyres for a living. Can he have his cake and eat it as well?
Typically great performances from Cage and Tea Leoni (as his parallel wife) make the whole thing work, and a sub-plot with Cage's older daughter clocking her 'dad' as some kind of alien imposter amps up the cute nicely. It all gets a little touch-and-go come the ending (considering the premise: what pay-off could possibly please everyone?) but I plant a flag and stand by the conclusion drawn. Also: merry Christmas, everyone!
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1992)
xth viewing
Which I didn't like nearly as much as I remembered. Pretty funny, self-conciously hokum slice of vampire pie, but the tone is wholly uneven (complete horror parody one scene, then we're expected to care someone's having a bad dream the next?), and the laughs just aren't plentiful enough ("Pike's not a name, it's a fish"... what were you thinking exactly, Mr. Wheedon??). Worth a gander for a pre-fame Hilary Swank, kicking about the background.
An American Werewolf In London (1981)
2nd viewing
Proper five-star dreams-within-dreams "kill yourself, David" "I am the famous balloon thief" stuff. Name me a horror film with the heart of a young man facing certain death phoning his family to say he loves them, with the balls to deal with schizophrenia and suicidal anxieties, with the back-breaking bark of that transformation scene and so on and so forth? Yeah, you've just named Werewolf in London, ain'tcha? Also I gotta say - I love how British it is. As accurate a depiction of the British police force apprehending a werewolf as you're likely to see outside of the tabloids.
Withnail & I (1987)
2nd viewing
I can't describe the Withnail plot without making it sound like a Carry On film - and being as its so much more than that, I'm not going to do that. I am a sucker for a permantly intoxicated character, I confess. I suppose that's fairly universal - hence the popularity of, say, Captain Jack Sparrow. For me - easy-peasy - the three finest, most splendid, most five star 'permantly intoxicated' performances are Johnny Depp in Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas and Richard E Grant in Withnail & I. Managing to make the list without even going to Vegas.
Um. Anyway, it's a hilarious and ever-so-somewhat poignant death-of-the-'60s flick, with an unmissable central turn.
Sleeping Dogs (2006)
An 87-minute indie-comedy that - thanks to poor pacing and an inconsistent script - feels double that. The plot and conventions are borrowed in huge chunks - part Meet The Parents minus the calibre cast, part Chasing Amy with added beastiality - and that's about that.
Not without some laughs and squirms, it's still easily my dud of the month.
The Butterfly Effect 2 (2006)
Not half as clever, sharp or inventive as the original film - and with a tendency to feel a little like porn - TBE2 is a surprisingly effective time-shuffler which keeps one's what's-going-to-happen?-ometer bubbling away fairly well, before finally pissing its chips away at the ending. Still; remarkably better sequel than one could reasonably expect.
Transformers (2007)
A few fuckin' sweet big old robot-on-robot fights are well worth a peek - but are hardly the 21st century Jurassic Park we were promised. Likewise we get some decent chuckles for our bucks, but little of the heart we might expect from Spielberg's involvement, as most of the characters are happy to be little more than caricatures. Still - it's an '80s cartoon made metal and flesh, and none of these quibbles detract from a pretty good feel-good hit of the summer.
Not a highlight of the year, like the newest Spider-Man or Harry Potter - but not a flabby old mess like the latest Pirates arse-number, either.
Imagine: John Lennon (1988)
Amazing, beautiful and highly entertaining piece that tracks Lennon through the Beatles, into his solo career, through his 'lost weekend' and finally back into Yoko's arms and to his grisly demise. Anyone with even a fleeting interest in Lennon should really very much be watching this film.
1408 (2007)
John Cusack goes in a big old haunted room, as research for one of his many books (yes, this is a Stephen King adaptation, so Cusack plays another of King's hack authors) about big old haunted rooms. And then the heat gets stuck on high. And the doorknob snaps off. And pretty soon all Hell is kicking off.
For a film that's largely just Cusack-in-a-room, its inventive, well-paced and a solid freakin' ride. It doesn't reach the bust-a-gut genius of similar Campbell-in-a-room outing Evil Dead 2, but it's a sly, solid horror film with a great actor taking the punishment - and Lord knows them's rare.
Superbad (2007)
I an McLovin'! Superbad is, quite probably, the single funniest teen-comedy ever conceived. Makes the likes of Porky's and American Pie look like shit. A high quality rapid-fire gag-machine with sharply drawn characters and a bit of an ol' heart in there too. Stick with the credits for all the dick pictures. Trrrrrust me. Gem of the month.
Monsters, Inc. (2001)
3rd viewing
Supercute amazingly imaginative very funny very slick big ball of fur. One of Pixar's finest gems.
Death Proof (2007)
Quentin Tarantino's sloppy-looking slasher-throwback is pretty cool, fun good times - though the structure and pacing shoots itself in the foot somewhat (the film could have been fairly billed as a Death Proof I & II double-bill, giving audiences a chance to get on board with its anti-climatic stop-start nature). Still, another unusual and enjoyable slice of QT pie that I'm confident will only gain flavour over multiple servings.
Missing (1982)
Jack Lemmon and Sissy Spacek trawl through south America looking for their titular 'missing' son/husband, uncovering all sorts of horrible political secrets along the way, sort of thing. Pretty good, but heavy going. Was nominated for best picture; lost to Ghandi.
True Romance (1993)
xth viewing
Still an absolute all-time fave, there.
Bobby (2006)
Magnolia-style all-star ensemble-piece that follows the disparate lives of a hotel's employees and clientele on the day that the US of A officially fell into despair (the assassination of one Robert Kennedy). Kennedy himself appears through old news footage - rattling on about the sort of things Michael Moore makes documentaries about nowadays. A tragic, moving and breath-taking piece, with any number of notable performances. Chess fan Anthony Hopkins takes top honours.
Touch Of Evil (1958)
Sweet-ass noir with flabby-assed Orson Welles and Mexican-assed Charlton Heston at loggerheads over evidence-planting and racism and whatnot. Gripping.
Jackie Brown (1997)
xth viewing
Like Scorcese's Casino, Tarantino's Jackie Brown is under-rated by comparison. Subconciously written off by the wider world as Pulp Fiction II: Not Quite As Good. OK, so it's not exactly the film Tarantino's going to be remembered for - but it's a damn, damn, damn fine gangster flick with a sweet twisty-turny plot, top-notch dialogue, great characters and acting (DeNiro and L. Jackson seizing top honours), and whatthefuckmorecouldyouwantalready??
A History Of Violence (2005)
2nd viewing
Smart, thrilling, sexy, plenty to tuck into vis-a-vis morality, identity and violence - and ridiculously thrilling bouts of the bloody stuff. Long live Cronenberg.
Natural Born Killers (1994)
xth viewing
"It's just murder, man. All God's creatures do it", Woody Harrelson there - in the film's most chilling and - to have a conservative moment here - dangerous scene, being interviewed by a bizzare Australian Robert Downey Jr. "A deer doesn't know why it's a deer, a lion doesn't know why it's a lion", and so on and so forth.
More of an assault on the senses than a "real film", Natural Born Killers takes on the media for sensationalising the unspeakable act of murder, while simultaneously providing some of the most glamorous and gorgeous cold-blooded killings you'll see this side of snuff.
I like it.
Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)
Great stuff! A whole load-a great scenes and great cartoon cameos and plenty of imagination. Bob Hoskins is mint.
Friday The 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986)
xth viewing
Great and very amusing entry, as Jason RETURNS FROM THE GRAVE AS A FREAKING ZOMBIE. Overall tone, acting and dialogue feels straight from a '50s B-movie - say some terribly entertaining flick like The Blob - but with all the nasty, jumpy kills that we can only rely on the '80s for. My only objection is that the drawn out final suspenseful stalk-off tradition of earlier entries is replaced with more of an action movie showdown sort of finale - but its a minor complaint on a barrel of bloody laughs, kills and fun.
Two kids cower under a bed as Jason does the rounds. One turns to the other and says: "So what were you going to be when you grew up?"; classic.
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| Flicks I've Seen In August |
[05 Sep 2007|11:31am] |
The Science Of Sleep (2006)
Would-be artist has way-trippy dreams, when not working his boring-ass job or trying to woo his similarly artistically-minded neighbour. And that's pretty much the gist of it - but it's a beautiful, bursting-with-imagination slice of crazy-ol'-French-craziness. Another fine notch in Michael Gondry's particularly fine belt.
Coming To America (1988)
Very funny, if almost ridiculously sweet-natured, Eddie Murphy flick.
Man On Fire (2004)
Freakin' awesome! Morally ambiguous revenge-laden bone-crackin' ass-kickin' action flick, with Denzel Washington on top-form trying to save and/or avenge a ridiculously cute little girl. It could only be Tony Mother FUcking Scott.
Legally Blonde 2: Red, White & Blonde (2003)
Absolutely and hopelessly dire. Reese Witherspoon marches on Washington to change the law on animal testing, and finds doormen who have nothing better to do than to spend all their time working on her campaign for her and senators who just need a quick freakin' pedicure to change their minds. In one particularly appaling scene, Reese talks to the supreme court one by one, asking "don't you love _insert name of your dog here_?". Instead of being busted for contempt of court, or otherwise kicked out for such ludicrous and manipulate shenanigans, everyone bursts into tears and proclaims her exactly right!
Meanwhile she marries the overly-supportive Luke Wilson or Luke Perry, or some fucker. You'll be hard pressed to give a shit though. None of which would matter if the flick was funny, but it just really isn't. So, dud of the month, blah-di-blah.
Mallrats [Extended] (1995)
The alternate cut from the 10th anniversary edition of the disc. "The Cut That Never Should Have Been, But Is, Because What The Heck" as Kevin Smith himself put it. Basically a chance to have a sneak peek at what the film was like before any cuts were made to what was written on the page.
A great time then, for big ol' Kevin Smith fans like myself. And indeed better than the theatrical cut in one or two little ways, sort of. Still, the original's where it's at, which is only as it should be.
The Blob (1958)
Steve McQueen - while chasing a shooting star - finds a guy with a weird blob on his hand. Promptly drops him off at the doctors, and goes drag-racing. And that's where it should have ended if only The Blob Didn't Keep Getting Bigger And Bigger AND DEVOURING HUMANS WHOLE. Proper excellent flick with one Hell of a rib-tickling finale.
Deep Star Six (1989)
So-so monster movie from original Friday The 13th director. The monster itself does look the shit when it's finally let out of the bag, and there's a great sucker-punch around the finale - but that's about your lot.
Dude, Where's My Car? (2000)
2nd viewing
Sort of like The Big Lebowski - if it wasn't fiercely intelligent, didn't boast sharply drawn characters and was, y'know, a dumb-ass teen comedy. Generally chucklesome, and with a couple of sound belly laughs - a mostly sound comedy, then.
Big Nothing (2006)
In which Simon Pegg (Funniest Man In The World Today contender) befriends David Schwimmer (Ross from Friends) at a call centre, and invites him into a scheme to blackmail a kiddie-porn lovin' priest. It's one of them Very Bad Things-sorta flicks then - with our schemers dragged through seven shades of shit as fate deals them worse and worse hands and the plan gets more and more convoluted.
It's sharp though, and a fuck-off good ride. The ending wasn't entirely satisfying - but when is it ever, with flicks like this one? - but it's a sound ride, and Simon Pegg makes like a small-time Tyler Durden. Recommended, then.
Creep (2005)
Girl gets stuck in the London underground, between parties, only to discover she ISN'T ALONE. A fine British horror flick, with some great supporting characters and some proper creepy bits.
Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)
Jack Lemmon and Al Pacino are both particularly brilliant in this extraordinarly casted all-nighter talk-a-thon where not so much actually happens, but characters and ways of life are cut wide open. And that's all you need to know. Coffee is for closers. Gem of the month, snickety snitch!
Full Metal Jacket (1987)
xth viewing
Which just gets more and more perfect every time. The drill seargent's admiration for Oswald's shooting JFK ("a moving target", we're reminded), the "all I ever ask of my troops is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God", and fuck, just the whole thing, let's be fair. If anyone reading hasn't seen it yet, they'd be doing me a personal favour to check it out for themselves.
Lolita (1962)
2nd viewing
Kubrick again! With another brilliant film! Pitch-black comedy and a cracking, human story. Sellers and the main chap are both bang on - as is the titular strumpet, I should add.
The Wicker Man (1973)
2nd viewing
Which I had the good fortune to see at the cinema, by Gods! An amazing film - too fascinating to really be 'scary' - as paganism and Christianity fiercely clash their horns, and Christopher Lee gets to grin away while proudly proclaiming certain theories popular among Nietczhe (and Trent Reznor). Great songs, too! A bit of a 30-year precursor to The League Of Gentlemen, in its way. Amazing flick, anyway.
Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life (1983)
xth viewing
Very funny, astute, spiritual and musical exploration of the whole life-meaning thingamy. Food for thought, and mucho laughter.
Knocked Up (2007)
Like it's predecessor, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up is an absolutely hilarious rom-com, with real heart and very real, sharply drawn characters. Again, like T F-Y-O V, its title betrays its own sweet-heartedness, though it is the kind of - realistic - sweet-heartedness, where every couple needs a blazing row now and again. (Quote: "I know this isn't you, it's your hormones talking, but I just gotta say: Fuck you, hormones! You're a crazy fucking bitch, hormones!"). My favourite film of the year, thus far.
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| Flicks I've Seen In July |
[02 Aug 2007|02:41pm] |
Children Of Men (2006)
It's the near future, and nae-ones having nae bairns in this beautifully directed, distinctly British action-thriller-satire. A pretty great, gripping flick, with good ol' Clive Owen being grumpy and good ol' Michael Caine giving a top-rate latter-day performance.
The only real problem is its somewhat workmanlike pacing - best typified by the clock-work like way a supporting character is sacrificed every half hour. Great, though, in spite of that.
The Last King Of Scotland (2006)
Forrest Whittaker plays some scary-ass but oddly endearing brutal-type dictator, who takes this young Scottish lad under his wing as his personal doctor and/or most trusted advisor - as and when it suits him. Stand-out scene being: "YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME NOT TO DO THIS, NICOLAS!", "I DID! I DID!", "BUT YOU DID NOT CONVINCE ME. YOU DID NOT CONVINCE ME, NICOLAS!".
Hoo! Highly entertaining, gripping and somewhat horrific. Well-deserved Oscar win for Forrest, too.
Lifted (2007)
The short that introduced the flick below, an alien tries to abduct a small child - driving test style - with very funny, nicely animated and suitably dark results. Nice.
Ratatouille (2007)
A rat cursed with an amazing sense of taste is seperated from his family, and ends up cooking in a Parisian restaurant with the help of the unwitting heir to the whole restaurant business. So far, so freakin' Disney.
But it's another completely gorgeous Pixar film, for one, and it's very funny (and at times, suitably dark) for two. The visual depictions and general chit-chat on the art of fine dining are gosh darn delightful, and there's even a kick-ass action scene where the main rat steals some paperwork and has to leg it across the city. Better than it sounds!
A pretty gosh darn great flick, then - its only real problem being its off-the-peg Disney plot (especially when compared with, say, the inventive, free-wheeling, satirical happenings of The Incredibles), but Ratatouille isn't left wanting for inspiration when it matters.
The Little Shop Of Horrors (1960)
Kind of like Clerks, in that it largely consists of a small group of people hanging out in a shop exchanging very funny dialogue - only with a man-eating plant, instead of a coming-of-age arc. A little ropey, especially the no-budget chase-scene at the end, but a very funny wee flick, all the same. Contains Jack Nicholson as a fucked-up dental patient wanting all his teeth removed, also.
Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix (2007)
The best Potter yet, for my money. The merry-magical untouchable school of Hogwarts is a thing of the past, as Voldemort sneaks around in the shadows and some smiley-but-fascist housewife type brings beauracracy to Never-Never land.
Few films do magic like Potter, even the magical paper airplanes actually feel, well, magical! And the cast are a freaking ball - Alan Rickman seizing top honours as always, but that Dumbledore fellow was a hoot and a half too ("you seem to think I'll be coming quietly?"). Crammed with sweet touches (and with an amazing 3D ending, for those of us lucky enough to see it at IMAX), Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix is my freakin' gem of the month.
Blades Of Glory (2007)
A bit of a thin premise, and the boo-hiss cartoon villains add nothing, but Blades Of Glory is generally funny and ever so occasionally hilarious. No Anchorman, but far better than tripe like Kicking And Screaming. My pick of the highlights: Napoleon Dynamite calls the top bunk, only to be refuted by Will Ferrell's no-beat-missed nonplussed claim that he'd all ready called it, in his mind. Golden!
Wild Hogs (2007)
The idea of watching Tim Allen and John Travolta playing some middle-aged has-been losers does hold a certain appeal, but the chuckles in Wild Hogs are minimal. Probably the single most homophobic film I've ever seen - you're never twenty minutes away from some 'creepy gay type' who really, really wants to stick his dick in our 'heroes', it seems.
If it were a sort of middle-aged homophobia, it mightn't have been so jarring. A Clint Eastwood not-being-able-to-look-you-in-the-eye, sort of thing, perhaps. But no, this was wacky, post-Date Movie crazy over-the-top stupid teen-comedy sort of homophobia.
It's like a wacky teen-comedy type guy was asked to write a middle-aged comedy. Though to himself: what do middle-aged people do? And came up with the answer: pee a lot and hate gay people, and then applied those two basic premises to a piece of shit off-the-peg 'wacky' teen comedy.
Furthermore, it's predictable to the point of nauseau, and it's impossible to empathise with John Travolta's main character, because he's such a fucking idiot, and spends most of the film endangering the lives of his buddies, secretly but knowingly.
Dud of the month by an arm and a leg.
Shortbus (2006)
Shortbus ain't going to be for everyone - I'll come out and say it, a chap comes on his own face within the first ten minutes, and there's plenty more exxxtremely romantic on-goings after that. But I thought it was great, in fact. A very funny, endearing and basically sweet-natured exploration of a group of loosely-connected individuals interested in expanding their sexual horizons, for each their own reasons. A recommended viewing, for the exxxtremely open-minded.
The Simpsons Movie (2007)
Fucking brilliant! OK, so its not The Funniest Film Ever Made, and ergo it is possible to see that as a disappointment, if one is determined to do so, but it just has more funny and unexpected jokes than you could shake a freakin' stick at, at the end of the day. Does a good job of mixing the sentimental reality of mid-era Simpsons with the wacky-crazy-adventureness of latter-day Simpsons. A handful of jokes miss the mark, but they're plentifully compensated for.
Shrek The Third (2007)
Another funny-funny outing for the big green one - with a bag of tricks including Eric Idle as a crazy old Merlin, Donkey and Puss body-swapping and a highschool where kids smoke pot and geeks roleplay. Not quite as funny as Shreks 1 & 2 - but not a huge dip in quality, either.
The plot comes second to the gags, of course - but is well worth it for the Potter-esque haven-shattering of all the villains of Fairy Tales rioting through the streets of Far, Far Away in Shrek's absence. Storming!
Hostel: Part II (2007)
Somewhat disappointing sequel to one of the decade's sweetest horror flicks - though the good (getting to know the sadists, the typical slasher sequel style opening, the grisly scenes of mutilation) manages to outweigh the bad (a huge feeling of deja vu, generally unlikeable main characters).
A well, well above-average horror sequel, but being as its the work of a real writer-director as opposed to a studio-dictated sequel-by-numbers, it was hard not to expect something a little more special. Still: stands up well with Halloween II, et al.
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[29 Jul 2007|10:44am] |
Something someone said over at Acclaimedmusic, which made me chuckle:
Ramones songs are like Big Macs. Sure there might be little differences here and there but they're completely unintentional and only a byproduct of the speed with which they were produced.
Burn!
Also, I'm up to Primal Scream on the album-sorting. I still have the nasty 'S' section to come yet, though. Hopefully I'll finish up today.
Spent a lot of last night rough-housing with Joss. At one point, she was possessed by Satan. She swore she wasn't, so to test I had to put my fingers on her forehead in a crucifix position. She agreed to this little test, and then once they were up there - in one fluid motion - I flicked her right in the nose. HAH HAH HAH!
Lastly: Lovefilm have suddenly abandoned their 3rd Rock From The Sun collection, for some reason! Right as Joss and I reach the third season cliff-hanger! Say it with me, people: BASTARDS!
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| Thank You For Gambling |
[27 Jul 2007|10:04am] |
(1) My local cinema is showing Goldfinger on Tuesday, and I won't be able to go see it being as I'm on the 1PM to 10PM shift. How often do these opportunities come up in life, God damn it?
I really hope I get a chance to see the showings of The Wicker Man (1973) and Withnail & I - four and six weeks later, respectively. And the other four "British classics" showing every Tuesday too, I suppose. Is Henry V any good?
(2) At work yesterday, Sara referred to Alison as "having the kind of face that you could just punch". Without missing a beat, I upped the ante claiming she "has the kind of face you could just kick in the balls". Neither of us is wrong, mind you - her face radiates a weaselly, condescending smugness. Cow.
(3) A helluva lot of great music came out in 1997, I'm being reminded. And most of it was British.
(4) The anniversary with Joss was very nice. We went out for Italian food at a place Joss's co-workers had recommended, the food was lovely and the drinks were plentiful. Joss said I got her too many presents, before quickly retracting said comment. I may have rolled up bits of labels torn from beer bottles and tried to flick them down her cleavage. Don't you wish I were your boyfriend?
( Cut, for those of you who may not want to hear xxx-details of the night )
(5) Thanks to GamCare, a pussy-ass liberal organisation who seems to think there's a problem with the "social impact of gambling in the UK", me and Joss got paid to kick back in the boardroom being told how to deal with "problem gamblers" instead of doing any real work, on Wednesday. It was kind of fun, like being in the war room of Thank You For Smoking, or something.
Our supervisor says we must ask for IDs from new, young-looking customers, because he "wouldn't put it past" these GamCare types to be sending younger-looking types in to test us. When one cashier-type confessed she couldn't really tell a real ID from a fake ID, she was told this wasn't terribly important - as no way would GamCare send someone in with a fake ID! Scandalous!
Said supervisor also read our mission statement for responsible advertising. One aspect of which was that we don't "advertise gambling as a means to a solution for financial problems". "Except", I piped up, "for the football poster we have saying YOU COULD BE A MILLIONAIRE". "Well...". Shocking!
But I love it. I like being in an industry of so-called vice. I kind of think people need a certain amount of "vice" in their lives, and I'm proud to supply one of the few that's legal and un(physically)damaging. Hurrah for gambling!
(6) I started organising the CD collection on Monday. I'm now up to 'L', or more specifically, Tom Lehrer. It's not all fun and games having an impossibly impressive CD collection, I'll have you all know.
(7) Joss and I are entertaining the notion of getting married abroad. Y'know, somewhere warm.
And that's, the news. And now, the weather:
IT'S FUCKIN' WET!
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[21 Jul 2007|09:21pm] |
When I was in Canada, I told myself I'd do a proper job of keeping this journal updated even as the adventure ended.
Which is, of course, an easy thing to tell yourself when you're not juggling a job, a working girlfriend (i.e. one whos finite free time you want to make the most of), and all of those other odds and sods that come with, you know, not being on holiday.
But I finally have a spot of free time right this second, so here's looking at you, as it were.
Updates, then:
(1) I have officially quit smoking. That one cigarette I had at the wedding at Canada remains the one and only cigarette I have smoked this month. It's not easy. The jury is officially out on whether or not 'tis better to have smoked and quit than never to have smoked at all, or not.
(2) Joss has been very low since we returned home, and this is obviously very distressing to me, as there are people in this world I feel pretty darn close with, but with Joss it goes some 1,000 times beyond that. I believe we're soulmates, if there is such a thing, and a ridiculously close approximation, if there is not. So naturally, her being unhappy for days on end is something I find very hard to deal with.
She has since re-surfaced, as of yesterday, and is her old punchdrunk, Larryhappy, bite-fighting, face-pulling, utterly beguiling, sexy and delightful self again. Jossie is someone who worries a fair amount of the time - largely because she deeply loves and cares for so many of the people she's met in this world - and nothing fills me with joy as seeing her flourishes of completely carefree joy.
(3) Work has been pretty good, except for the stress of last night. I did a practically perfect job, if I do say so, but had to spend hours dealing with a group of scammers who tried Every Single Trick In The Book to try and cheat the house out of money. The first time I've ever made the executive decision to cut someone off, and to give the order no less.
"Being as you feel robbed in some way, I really don't feel that we can accept any more of your money tonight. I really feel that you should hold on to it", was how I diplomatically told the bugger he wasn't getting any more bets on, no way no how.
The absolute highlight was when they tried to claim on a bet that had been drawn over with pen, and then torn to hide the obviousness of the forgery. "On the original seen here, this number was a five", I got to say, "and what you, or your friend, has done, is gone over that five in pen and changed it into a six".
All in all, they lost about £500 in our shop that night. Making it the least effecting attempted robbery in history, perhaps.
(4) It turns out that my manager apparently flashed her breasts at a passing metro, while her fiance - a supervisor with the same company - showed off his butt. They did this in front of a shared co-worker, who told all to her boyfriend - one of our customers - and accordingly, it was a topic of conversation in work the next morning. Just when you think you know some-one!
Actually, it doesn't come as a huge shock. I'm not entirely sure why that should be!
(5) Today was my first day off since we got back, and I spent the bulk of it on a quest of some sorts - which may or may not have something to do with the fact that my 6th anniversary with Joss is tomorrow. Also, I finally got my Burger King Angus burger I've been wanting since the airport, and got to play a spot of Guitar Hero 2 in a Game store! True, I couldn't really hear the songs I "played" over the actual in-store music, but still, I rocked. The Playstation 2 told me as such.
(6) I've been listening to a lot albums from '97 (my "'97-a-thon", as I call it) to the name of cobbling together a top 20 for Acclaimed Music (for a thread that will go up in August). Upon revisitation, I've came to the conclusion that Be Here Now is a full-on unfuckwittable five-star classic-rock album, and that anyone who disagrees is just jealous, or summit.
Even album-tracks like, say, "My Big Mouth" are top-notch - fierce walls of instruments barely able to contain themselves on the disc, merging together into a beautiful, stomping, fuzzy wail or sheer fuck-off rock 'n' roll. The album is a gorgeous and nuanced beasts, with something to love about each of its 75 minutes.
Though, that is more or less how I feel about Metal Machine Music, also. Another grossly under-rated album! What the fuck is wrong with most of you?!?
(I'm not kidding, both albums would be strong contenders for my 100-favourite-albums-of-all-time list, were I to write one).
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| The Story Concludes (Part Two) |
[17 Jul 2007|07:31pm] |
Saturday July 14th:
After trying to get some packing done, we had a fun lunch with Chris - wife of the chap who didn't want to leave the barbecue way back in an earlier chapter. We chuckled each time a "pass the pepper, Chris"-ism got both of us moving.
Then, in the mid-afternoon, Joss and I took Merlin - Joss's grumpy-lookin' labrador - out for a walk. We got hopelessly lost through endless Canadian trails dense with body-whacking shrubbery. It felt like scouting for Indiana Jones IV, but not in a cool way.
Joss made getting us lost up to me with a foot-long meatball sub from subway. I had it toasted, with green peppers, tomato, cucumber and lettuce. It was very, very tasty.
No sooner did we get back to the house when Joss's folks returned from a birthday party with three of Joss's cousins from her dad's side. I disappeared along with Graeme and one the cousins' kids (his school library has all of the Harry Potter, except for Harry Potter And This Thing, Harry Potter And That Thing and Harry Potter And The Other Thing, apparently). So we disappeared down to the basement to do some grade-A jamming! Which was immensely fun! It turns out I'm a pretty cool drummer, through my guitar leaves something to be desired. Though, especially when plugged in, I do bring a sense of giddy fun to the instrument, which I'm sure would dazzle an open-minded crowd. I could kick-start a new movement: lo-talent.
And then, as night time had crept in by now, we went to see Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix - my first experience with IMAX. The ride over was stressful, as Lou quizzed Graeme about plot-points in all six published Harry Potter books and I didn't want to be rude enough to shush anybody. I now know one character who is doomed to die come 'The Half Blood Prince', among other tit-bits. Grump.
But the film itself was brilliant, as was the presentation - including the mind-blowing 3D finale, which completely shattered my plenty high expectations of how cool it might be! After the film it was Graeme's turn to grump, as he - an avid fan of the books - felt they had trimmed one or two of the most important plot details. It was tempting to make fun of him, but I showed uncharacteristic restraint, wary that someone who's read six books multiple times might feel slightly bruised to be told that not one detail in said books could truly be "important". But I digress.
Sundary July 15th:
Got up bright and early for a family breakfast at IHOP. When we sat at the booth, Joss bounced giddily in her seat saying "IHOP!". "I see U HOP", I told her. And then food came, which was tasty. Over food I got Graeme to explain to me anything I'd misunderstood or forgotten in Harry 1 through 5. Turns out that guy who turned into a rat was a right shifty bugger. Though I still don't know if his motives and plans actually made any sense. But I digress.
After IHOP we got back into the car, expecting to be taken back to the house - but instead getting a surprise trip to A&B records! Where I filled my boots with albums! Namely:
Black Sabbath - Sabbath Bloody Sabbath
Death Cab For Cutie - We Have The Facts And We're Voting Yes
Marvin Gaye - Here, My Dear
Hole - Live Through This
Metric - Grow Up And Blow Away
Red Hot Chili Peppers - One Hot Minute
Lou Reed - Coney Island Baby
Steely Dan - Can't Buy A Thrill
Steely Dan - Katie Lied
Steely Dan - Pretzel Logic
For (what translated as) approximately £6.40 each! Bitch, you know that's platinum!
And then we finished packing. Dull.
But then we had a games night! Cranium was fun, though it would have been more so if the competition had been closer (me, Joss and Grae whupped the old folks' butts, frankly). Lou was unimpressed with my ability to spell "sacreligious" (Graeme was more impressed, and also with my ability to spell "hitchhiker" backwards). Other highlights included Graeme impersonating Shania Twain, Joss sculpting me sardines (closest I got was "fish on toast"), and Lou's complete inability to draw "thumbs up" with her eyes closed.
We chased that game down with some balderdash, which was hilarious and terribly good fun. Best description of the night went to Joss, with "balium" (which she claimed was "a drug with the same chemical components as valium, but with the opposite effects") and "geoduck" (for which she wrote "what other scientists call geologists behind their back"). Funny girl.
And then, while everyone else worked on dinner, I wrote a short story on Graeme's computer, while uploading albums for him. He claims to have really enjoyed it, and I think it might be something worth pursuing to its conclusion with an eye on actually selling it. What do you think: Chris Morris, published author?
Graeme actually burned us three CDs full of mp3s, as if the trip hadn't been fantastic enough. The contents of those being:
Barenaked Ladies - Gordon
Barenaked Ladies - Stunt
Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene
Broken Social Scene - You Forgot It In People
Controller.Controller - X-Amounts
Death Cab For Cutie - Plans
Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism
Death From Above 1979 - You're A Woman, I'm A Machine
Eagles Of Death Metal - Death By Sexy
Feist - Let It Die
Foo Fighters - Skin And Bones
The Fratellis - Costello Music
Kings Of Leon - Because Of The Times
Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley - Welcome To Jamrock
Stephen Marley - Mind Control
The Mars Volta - Amputechture
Metric - Live It Out
Metric - Old World Underground, Where Are You Now
Minus The Bear - Menos El Oso
Modest Mouse - The Moon And Antartica
Modest Mouse - This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Do
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
Peter Bjorn And John - Writer's Block
Queens Of The Stone Age - Era Vulgaris
The Roots - Game Theory
Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope
Stars - Heart
Stars - Set Yourself On Fire
Tokyo Police Club - A Lesson In Crime
We Are Scientists - With Love And Squalor
Weezer - Pinkerton
Could Graeme be the perfect brother-in-law? In sharp contrast, my own brother was around recently and the new Marilyn Manson came up. 'You've heard it?', I say. 'Unfortunately', he says. 'Any chance of borrowing it?', I say. 'Um. I'll tell you which peer-to-peer site would be good to download it with!', he says.
But I digress.
The airport was, inevitably, emotional. Much in the way of group hugs, and the like.
Monday July 16th:
The plane took off at about 00.00, and I got to see Blades Of Glory (enjoyable-to-hilarious), Wild Hogs (homophobic-to-predictable) and selected highlights of The Prestige. Finally, 16 hours and one very Geordie (hello casual profanity!) taxi driver later, we were given a lavous welcome home by good old John, who'd lined up weed, beers and steak. Which we smoked, drank and ate. It were excellent.
Eventually, we slept. Back in our old bed together, safe in the knowledge that we'd survived another vacation and will live to survive many more.
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| The Story Concludes (Part One) |
[14 Jul 2007|04:53pm] |
Thursday July 12th:
Joss, her mum and myself all went down to Granville island - which I may have, in the past, referred to as "whatchamecallit island". The same place we went on Canada day, anyway.
Stress was starting to rear its head more, a sort of 12th day dip, of sorts. Joss's mum - much as I love her - has one key flaw: she likes to micro-manage things to a tee (both of her own doings, and those of others) but is also prone to whimsical flip-floppings. So, there's expectations to adhere to a plan, which may change at whim.
She - completely inadvertently, I'm sure - can send Joss's stress levels through the roof. I could delve into it further, but I don't really feel it's my place. Suffice to say, familial weariness was starting to kick in.
Which is not to say we did not have fun. On the contrary, we found the perfect decorative container to keep our drug-related stash in back home (a hollowed out copy of Treasure Island: aesthetic, handy and piratey!), and marvelled at such quirky treasures as unputtable golf balls, lie-enhancing breath spray and conversation-suggesting dinner-table thingies (turns out all three of us valued common sense higher than intelligence; Lou was the most torn).
In time, we went for some lunch - and I got chastised for having sweet, delicious pizza. I wanted to buy Joss a cookie from the place near where we sat, but Lou wouldn't let me because those guys were 'no good', apparently. Joss instead got a cookie from an allegedly far superior vendor, but the romantic value of the cookie was now way lower, as it was no longer my idea. :-(
But, somehow I managed to bounce back from the cookie fiasco, and we continued 'bumbering', as the Grants call it, from shop to shop. There was some cute, but way over-priced sock-puppets, but Joss insists she can make some just as cute without paying $50 a pop.
I did find some fun books - I purchased Leonard Cohen's Book Of Longing, after a quick flick through revealed some magnificent poems, and Grant & Naylor's Better Than Life, a book I borrowed as a youngster and was Just Thinking About How Good It Was just the other day, when I saw it out of the blue like that. I find it hard to resist reasonably-priced coincidences.
The first poem to catch my eye in the Book Of Longing, was called "A Life Of Errands", which I later read for Joss. I think it's great, and will share it with you now:
If You Are Lucky
You Will Grow Old
And Live
A Life Of Errands.
You Will Discern
What People Need
And Provide It
Before They Ask.
You Will Drive Your Car
Here And There
Delivering And Fetching
And Neither The Traffic
Nor The Weather
Will Bother You
In The Least.
You Will Whip Down The 405
To San Diego
To Pick Up An Acorn
For Someone's Proverb
And So On And So Forth.
In Spite Of The Ache
In Your Heart
About The Girl You
Never Found
And The Fact That
After Years Of
Spiritual Rigor You Did Not Manage
To Enlighten Yourself
A Certain Cheerfulness
Will Begin To
Arise Out Of Your Crushed
Hopes And Intentions.
How Thirstily
You Embrace Your Next Commission:
To Sift Through The Sunglasses
At A Lost And Found
In Las Vegas
Just A Few Hours
Across The Desert.
Your Hair Is White
You Have Breasts
And A Gut
Over Your Belt
You Are No Longer A Boy,
Or Even A Man
But A Sense Of Gratitude
Enlivens Every Move You Make.
Yes, Sir, These Are The
Very Gold-Rimmed Pair
She Left In The Plastic Tray
Beside The Dollar Slot Machines.
No, Sir, I Am Not Lying.
Pretty sweet, ay?
I got a decent slither of the book read at a little cafe-type area while Joss and her mum looked at beads. And by then the three hours we'd paid parking for were pretty much up, so we came back home.
There were plans for a "games night" of sorts - my idea, I might add - but where a game could have been squeezed in before dinner, everyone just pretty much retired to their own corners to do their own things. And then after dinner me and Joss had a good old chin-wag and a bit of a mope about the state of family and geography and everything.
By the time we ascended from that "existential funk", it was - apparently - too late for us all to play a game. But not too late for Joss to be comissioned to turn a bunch of beads into a necklace for her mum into the wee small hours. Ah, priorities.
Friday July 13th:
When the beads were ready for bed, so were we - but stress kept us up and talking until about 2AM. We both said some things that upset the other - not out of maliciousness, just a case of sharing our feelings: sometimes more well thought-out than others.
It's hard to know if the amount of communication we share is for the best or not. On the one hand, we were both pretty upset for an hour or so back there. But I think in the aftermath we both tend to be more considerate than we have been; or to realise that we haven't been expressing our considerations as best as we could; or to realise that consideration was there all along or blah-de-blah-de-blah.
I think we're good.
That we can still upset each other without trying to, is certainly a sad thing. But I'd be much more concerned if I ever felt we were intentionally trying to hurt each other.
Finally we slept.
We didn't wake up until noon, and we learned there were plans for Joss, Lou and myself to hook up with Alex for lunch - so I stupidly skipped breakfast. I always forget we're like an hour's drive away from your proper Vancouver-ness.
When we did have lunch I had to order three times, as I didn't realise what "beef tartar" was, and then the second time they tried to sneak me cabbage with some fancy fuckin' name. The beef sandwich I ended up having was actually pretty crumby. I couldn't even finish it - and if there's one thing I can do, it's eat. Especially when it's past lunch time and I've already skipped breakfast.
But all grumbling aside, I was still pretty darn full after all the chips it came with. Too full for dessert, in fact. Though certain parties didn't believe me when I told them as such, and bought me dessert anyway, and then (jokingly, I hope) scolded me for not eating it. Gulp.
Luckily I was feeling pretty OK by this time, the unpleasantness of the previous nights' chat a thing of the distant past. Otherwise such silly banter might have left more of a sting. But, I digress.
And then we took Joss to an artist, who her folks have comissioned to paint a picture of her to hang up in their living room (along from a portrait of Graeme, comissioned last year). Her place was... not my cup of tea.
Everyone else cooed and awed about how gorgeous it was, Joss professed to be "jealous" (which naturally, alerted my home-pride senses in the base of my shoulders), and I think Lou is genuinely considering having a sort of house-swap holiday. As for me?
I don't know: a small, cluttered apartment at the top of a flight of stairs, with a so-called 'gorgeous' view of a bunch of boats? I guess I must be crazy, but it just doesn't appeal.
None of which is here nor there. Joss stayed put with the very nice, very charming artist-lady while I accompanied her folks on a bit of a walk. After chatting between themselves about things I can't possibly have been expected to butt in on, Lou asks me if I'm OK.
I tell her I'm absolutely fine, and ask if I don't seem it - an honest reaction, I might add.
She tells me that Joss and I had both been being quiet. Which on reflection, may have been true. I don't know why its so often associated with 'not being okay', though.
Shortly thereafter, the three of us sat down for a drink at a pub. I don't know if these guys just have great taste in beer, or if I've just developed a taste for it without realising it at some point, but I've been enjoying some lovely fucking beers this trip. Let's hear it for beer!
After a bit Alex sent Lou to check on Joss, and when she asked why he said: "Because I want you to".
And I was terrified. I really thought I was in trouble for something. I don't know if its because he's a principal, a Jedi, or my soon-to-be father-in-law, but I was expecting a tongue-lashing of some kind. Maybe he resented that I hadn't been offering to pay my way more (a waste of time with them, in my experience), or maybe he wanted to add some clarifications to the "if you ever hurt Jocelyn..." speech. Maybe he was just going to offer me a million bucks to break up with Joss before heading back home!
But no. We ended up chatting about '70s cinema and copyright laws, mostly. Phew! That was a fun chat. He made me want to see K-PAX (I think?) with Kevin Spacey and Don Juan Demarco with Johnny Depp.
Joss seemed thoroughly rejuvenated after her little modelling session. Perhaps the flattery of the camera. Perhaps the shoulder-brushing with a kindred artistic spirit. Perhaps just the therapeutic chance to have a little chit-chat with someone she isn't currently sharing a roof. Whatever the cause, she was all hugs and kisses and the artist-lady told me I was very lucky (which I know, obviously).
And then we booked tickets for The White Stripes, who are coming to Newcastle in October!
And then we had fajitas for dinner! Which were pretty good, even if they were in hip-concious wholegrain shells (I'm British, damn it, I like to live dangerously!).
And then we booked tickets for Harry Potter And The Phoenix Of Whatchamicallit, for the next day. And we did have plans to go out with Graeme and his buddies, but they fell through. Plan B ended up being getting a shitload of booze and getting through it in the basement; the three of us, like.
It was fucking fun, probably the best time of the whole trip.
Everyone enjoyed the choice tunes (Nine Inch Nails, The Mars Volta, The Smiths and The Beta Band would be the soundtrack, if I'm not forgetting anyone), and - with a little help from 'I Never', we all shared any number of anecdotes and any amount of 'growing pain' stories, and cracked all in sundry up any number of times.
After drinking most of the booze, the three of us buggered off to smoke some weed (which didn't feel nearly as lame this time) and then we got back everyone marvelled at how well The Beta Band and crappy pornumentaries synced up.
I'm not even beginning to capture the madness, fun or divinity of the night; but suffice to say it was a Hell of a night. At 5AM, when bed-time reared its ugly head, I told Graeme I was going to shake his hand. He told me he was going to hug me. As a compromise, I lifted him into the air.
Graeme is way taller than I am. It was tricky.
Great fuckin' night, then.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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| The Story Continues (Part Four) |
[12 Jul 2007|01:26am] |
Tuesday July 10th:
We're supposed to leave at 12.00, but it gets pushed back to 3.30. Spend the time mostly on the DS, but also get some culture in the form of The Comedy Channel! Good satire, there.
The trip home doesn't seem as long as the trip there, which I think is mostly down to good tunes (Neil Young and Johnny Cash both got a whole album down), though KT Tunstall sure threw a wrench into the fucking plan. Still.
We stopped off at tiddlywinkles, or whatever the Hell it's called - some place that does teddy-bears and ice-cream (at long last!). I got chocolate, strawberry and banana (banana-nana, banana-nana, banana), and they were all completely delicious, but most of it ended up on my fingers as, being a poor Brit, I have no real practice in eating huge fuck-off ice-cream cones.
When we got back, we had pizza - and then Grae and two of his friends invited us to "hang out" for a bit; which turned out to mean "get high in the middle of nowhere". I was pleased to have a sprinkle of cannabis in my system, but the whole thing actually seemed... kind of lame. I don't mean that in a judgmental way, but it did kind of help explain to me why so many people could think of smoking pot as lame.
I think "the parents" (meaning both the Grants and in the more universal sense) biggest concern (not that the Grants specifically "know", best we know) is that someone, under the influence, is going to drive their huge, Canadian car straight into a tree, or worse. And that's a valid concern. But one that's best addressed by the legalisation and socal validation of cannabis as being, like alcohol, something that's totally cool if you're responsible.
But, I digress.
We had a couple of tokes on a bong, and for all it did seem kind of lame, I have to admit, I was feeling pretty fucking good. Though I would later find my hands - the one place I didn't think to spray anti-bug spray - are covered with fucking nasty, itchy bites. Yarr.
At about this point it turned out Josh and his sullen-seeming girlfriend had to take off, so we three survivors decided to rent a film and get some snacks. We rented The Little Shop Of Horrors (which the cover led us to believe had more Jack Nicholson in it than it turned out, indeed, to have), and we braved the 7-11 for, well, munchies.
I thought the film was really sweet. Joss enjoyed what she saw before falling asleep. Graeme made the kind of bizarre assessment (the next day, when I asked) that he had enjoyed it, but probably wouldn't have had it been a more recent film. Whatever that means.
Wednesday July 11th:
Or: Today!
In Penticton me and Joss slept in two seperate single beds (not because anyone's weird about shit, just because Joss's folks claimed the double), so it was gorgeous to wake up side by side again today, for the first time in nearly a week.
Our big plan for today was to head to the Playdium at Metrotown, where you can buy a day-pass to play as many kick-ass arcades as you like. It didn't really go to plan - turns out Playdium is no longer there - but we still had some sound fun.
First off, I managed to get the new Bravery and Interpol albums, along with the Mallrats 10th anniversary DVD (unavailable in the UK) and Terry Gilliam's brilliant masterpiece Brazil, all for the low-low price of $50!
Also at a still-pretty-sweet if overly cramped arcade we did battle to aliens, terrorists, zombies and Japanese pop music.
Later that night, we had some gorgeous chicken with greek salad and whatnot for dinner - over which we were subtly interrogated about our alibi for the previous day.
And Jesus, I think that more or less brings us up to date! Don't say I never give you anything!
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| The Story Continues (Part Three) |
[12 Jul 2007|12:25am] |
Sunday 8th July:
This was the "present opening" day, though Joss and I skipped out on all of that. Joss and her dad got discussing at one point that the whole thing seemed kind of tacky, and I think I pretty much agree - though I find it harder to justify why that should be.
Instead Joss and I mostly read - I finished reading 'Paradox' around this point and instead moved onto the latest issues of Total Film and then Q, while Joss has been reading Stumbling On Happiness, which doesn't seem entirely unlike the book I had just finished reading.
At one point sat on the beach, we got discussing the way the eyes, ears and mind all 'fill in the blanks' and all of that good stuff. I referenced a bottle lying by the edge of the lake, saying how we'd never remember it was there. Except that I obviously do, having noted that we never would. How's that for a paradox?
We spoke about how we wouldn't actually remember what the view was like, just that it was 'gorgeous' - the word we most often mentally tagged it with. And it surely was a gorgeous place, I can tell you (I think I can).
I read a really good article about the history of Metallica, of all people - and a pretty sweet interview with Dave Grohl. Also a "20 Loudest Albums Ever" article, of which I was pleased to see I owned some 15-17 of them all ready.
On the night, after much in the way of lounging, reading and video-gaming, the five of us went to the cinema ("to give mum and dad a break", explained Lou, in a way that begged the question "then why are we putting off going back home?", but I digress), and we stopped en route at a Wendy's, where I informed Graeme that Die Hard is The Best Action Film Ever Made, and the two of us quoted Pulp Fiction for a bit, after using it as a reference point that they did, apparently, have Wendys in America ("Where'd you get it from? Wendys, Jack in the Box?").
We went to see Ratatouille (which was far better than Cars, let me tell you), and then when we got back to our room for the weekend Joss and I chatted about everything that was going on, and then I whispered her a thousand promises (the sort I can actually keep, as opposed to the kind of gooey crap that makes it into wedding vows), and then we pretty much bumped uglies. Giggidy.
Monday 9th July:
Monday was a funny day, as by this point we were both feeling a distinct lack of autonomy, and would have - if it were up to us - probably gone 'home' (Joss's folks' home, as opposed to the grandfolks) early on the Sunday, instead of the Monday - and by Monday it had been pushed back to Tuesday.
For all that said, Monday turned out to be a great day. The early part was mostly spent with the reading and the gaming and whatnot, and then in the early afternoon me, Joss, Joss's folks and another of my favourite Joss-aunts ("auntie Kim", as Joss can't help calling her, and I thusly can't help thinking of her as) all went Sideways-ing it up, being as Penticton, evidently, is wine country.
And thus, we tasted wines. I was apprehensive that it might be some snooty sort of "spitting it out" sort of wine-tastery, but no, just the "teeny portions of wine but not at all rude to swallow" brand of wine-tasting. Fun!
For lunch we had an impromptu cheese-and-crackers (ha-hem, fancy cheese and fancy crackers) picnic, washed down by a variety of sips of wine being brought one after the next. Royalty would envy us.
My favourite wine was probably the "Pink Freud", from a place called Therapy, lest you're interested. And not just because of the name, indeed.
After we'd tasted as much wine as we could bear, we invited ourselves to Kim's for dinner, which was freaking awesome. We dined finely on (presumably Pixar-influenced) ratatouille, steak and some salady whatnots. By God if it wasn't fine!
And then after two rounds of that, there was two rounds of dessert! As I proclaimed at one point, some days earlier: "I love this family - I never thought I'd meet so many people who loved food as much as I did" ("and drink", someone chirped in reply, truthfully enough).
The grandparents were round for dinner as well, and they drank martinis (which Joss's granddad readily compares to beautiful breasts, in terms of ideal quantities... hehe, quantitties). Fun was had by all.
And then things really kicked up a notch, as two French-Canadian types (I'm not entirely sure why they were there, but this is true of most people I meet at these gatherings) knocked out some stunning musical numbers on guitar and violin, respectively. It was quite, quite lovely.
But then the poor girls were getting requests they couldn't readily follow. But luckily, having had enough of gallivanting around on a beach, Graeme decided to join us! He was quickly asked to play "Wish You Were Here" - and I threatened that I might even sing, if he were to do so.
I meant to threaten quietly, but everyone apparently heard, because there was commotion. I promptly regretted having said that.
And as he started playing, one of the French-Canadian types picked up the other half of the song on her guitar, and it sounded just lovely. And then - if my memory isn't confusing me - the girl with the violin began improvising a score to back it up, and the whole thing sounded just lovely. All of us young kids sang up a storm, while everyone who would actually have been alive in 1975 sat on in stoney silence, but with huge grins at the wonder we were creating.
We then repeated our trick with "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away", after which the violinist lady - who was cute, I might add - says to me: "Chris, you have a lovely voice".
"Thank you very much", I say, as she seems genuine.
"Well then you can have him singing in your shower!", Joss tells her.
Joss is funny. And more than a little mean about my singing 'abilities'.
I still can't get over that compliment. From someone with genuine talent, no less! Aww.
You meet some nice people in this world.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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| The Story Continues (Part Two) |
[11 Jul 2007|07:18pm] |
Friday 6th July:
We get up, and we see what needs doing in preparation for the wedding. We're assigned the task of sweeping the front porch for sand. I keep Joss sane (I think), by reminding her - as she starts to whine - that (a) she had asked if she could help, and that (b) she is now 22-years-old, a petulant teenager no longer.
On paper, this doesn't sound too inspirational or sane-keeping. My personality loses a great deal in translation, I suspect.
It did the trick, anyway.
And Joss did some more high-tech decoration duties while I sunk my teeth into Puzzle Quest - an RPG-puzzle hybrid that my mum got me for my birthday, and turns out to be pretty darn fun. I also read more of The Paradox Of Choice (which I have since finished: some very interesting studies and ideas, but suffers hugely from repetition and redundancy... for a book subtitled Why Less Is More it waffles on a surprising amount).
Then we escaped the family madness to the MALL, a word I'm not sure I'm actually allowed to say, as an English person. I found a nice shirt for the wedding (which made me look like a party animal, I suspect), ate a nice meatball sandwich from subway, and made some killer purchases (Nine Inch Nails' Year Zero only $10, the Clerks animated DVD somewhere around the $25 mark).
There was a birthday party of some kind on the night. So we sang happy birthday and I watched two people I barely knew blow out some candles. Spirits were high, fun was crazy, crazy extended family shenanigans left he dazed and disoriented. I'm pretty sure I had a good time, but I'm drawing a blank on specifics.
I may have had too many drinks and taken too many photos of Joss and her most attractive cousin posing for me in the wind. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Oh -- at the mall (a word which springs more and more readily from the proverbial tongue, worryingly enough) I also found a t-shirt that screamed my name. CHRISTOPHER, it screamed, YOU MUST BUY ME.
It reads:
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON.
I think it was a good purchase.
Saturday 7th July:
Or: The Freaking Wedding Day.
The wedding took place at the grandparent's beautiful lake-side place, the same place we were staying. So we had the bizarre experience of the groom seeing us in our regular scruffy clothes early in the morning, before we later got changed into our snappier outfits for the actual ceremony. Crazy.
We stumbled upon Gayla (one of my favourite Jossie-aunts, though I'm not sure if that's how you spell it) single-handedly wrapping all the days' cutlery into napkins. Naturally, our hearts went out to her, and we spent a fair portion of the morning (through lunch-time, and beyond!) helping her with that. If I recall correctly, she actually left while we were doing that (she probably returned a bit later, actually), and for a bit I felt kind of like Jack or Locke in the second season of Lost when they discover The Button That Must Be Pressed and the guy ran away.
We did a damn fine job of napkin-ing up the cutlery, anyway.
The wedding was absolutely picture-perfect gorgeous, I could have cried if I wasn't so manly. The speeches were very sweet and very funny. Joss and I got name-dropped in one by Bill's Mexican band-mate (two nights previous Joss's grandmother told us he was onto his third wife, and she has plenty of money; "I already told you not to say that", her husband told her - in a way that somehow thoroughly endeared me to both of them).
Only days later would I get to hear the bits left out of the speeches - like the fact the groom once hung his little brother (Clarke, husband of Gayla) from the rafters in a sleeping bag, and then threw a cat in with him. Fun!
During the dinner-and-dancing portion of the wedding, with just the right of alcohol in my system, it suddenly seemed like a good - if belated - idea to ask the Grants if I had their blessings to be marrying wee Jocelyn.
Why I started with her brother, I'm not sure. But I don't think it was the meaningless gesture I kind of hope her parents interpreted the order as. He's pretty close to our age, so in a way his blessing kind of felt the most important, almost.
Or something. Or gah. I really don't know. I asked, anyway. And he granted. He said that, "for selfish reasons" he would obviously prefer if we lived down the street, but that he felt that Jossie was happier now than before me, so it's all good. More-or-less. And that moved me very much, as I'm sure you can imagine.
Then there was some dancing. And Joss 'offended' me by mocking my dancing so I went back to where we were sitting, and sat by myself for a minute or two.
A word of explanation: I don't know if it's some kind of defence mechanism or something, but sometimes I act quite offended when I'm really not, at all. It always feel like it should be really obvious when I'm just 'pretending', but Joss assures me it's really quite inscrutable, sort of thing. I should really probably try... not to do it.
Though I had actually - on some level - been going over in the pursuit of a chat with Alex. As I 'stormed off' I said: "well fine, I'm gonna go sit with your dad and the most boring guy at this shindig!" (by which I meant no genuine offence to whoever he had been talking to when last we saw him).
So I was pleased when he came and sat back down where he had been, not five minutes later. And then came the tough part.
"I probably should have asked you this all ready..."
"Yes! You probably should have!"
Yikes! But the tone was warm, friendly - jovial, even. Whether that was all Jedi mind-tricks or not, I'm not sure, but he made it possible to continue.
I asked if I could have his blessing to marry his daughter. And he said that yes, I could. That I obviously made her happy.
And that moved me very deeply, as you can imagine.
I explained that I had really wanted to ask before the proposal, but the closest I had to The Right Time would have been when Joss nipped to the bathroom one day, in Paris.
The discussion pretty much wrapped up, blessing-granted, with Alex the Jedi telling me, with a smile:
"Of course, if you ever hurt her, I'll have to kill you".
"Oh, naturally. I'd expect nothing less," comes my reply. "If you broke both my legs I'd consider that getting off lightly".
I like to speak from the heart.
Some time earlier in the evening, I had asked him how he long he and Lou had been together (if I'm not mistaken, the answer was just shy of 30 years, all told). I asked if they had a good 'meeting story', and he said "not really" and then explained why, and gave me some interesting personal history trivia to boot. Fun, bonding times.
And then as time rolled by we got back to dancing, and silly hats were handed out to some of the more fantastic dancers (so I got one, naturally). And after some dancing I asked Lou if I could "borrow" her, and we ventured off the dancefloor together.
Then we discussed the nature of my having her blessing to marry her daughter. While both wearing huge, silly hats.
She told me 'yes', and this moved me very deeply, as you can imagine. And she gave me the best reason of the three of them - she commended me for making Joss laugh, and for not letting her "take herself too seriously", which I took as such a huge compliment. Hugging, with the big stupid hats, was hard work. But we managed.
At one point, someone gave me a cigarette down on the beach, and that made me just ecstatic. Note to self: never give up! Har har.
Regrettably, the evening took a bit of a darker turn, and after I wussed out of an awkward social faux-pas (herm, taking as many as three puffs on a spliff before thinking to pass it on - a rate that would generally be considered speedy in my circles back home) and went to hide under the covers, I ended up having a stupid fight with Joss (in private, thankfully).
I don't really remember the details, to be honest - and see no real value in straining to do so. Enough said that I'd had a fair bit to drink, and was confused and disgruntled - but that I at least had the good sense to admit, as sense dawned, that I was being a stupid drunk-idiot and that I was very, very sorry.
Joss forgave me shortly thereafter, putting forth that we were "both just drunk and stupid" (bless her heart), and we got back to the party just as it was fading into non-existence.
Finally, we flopped into bed and I had a bad dream about comitting a weed-related social faux pas.
As a side-note: I've been having very literal-minded dreams lately. On the night when we watched the first half of The Last King Of Scotland, I had my sexual advances rebuffed on the grounds of being too tired (not surprising in retrospect, when our exhaustion was the reason we weren't finishing the film that night). That night, I had two dreams:
1) That I was having sex with Joss,
2) That I was trying to remember how The Last King Of Scotland ended, and for neither love nor money could I!
TO BE CONTINUED...
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| The Story Continues (Part One) |
[11 Jul 2007|06:15pm] |
Tuesday 3rd July:
Um, update the journal a lot.
After losing the family, discover they were at a neighbours who we ended up having over for dinner. I'm reminded of the chief thing I hate about being English:
Football.
Let's get this straight; I don't hate football - it just fails to ignite my interest. I wouldn't want to sit down and watch a game - especially if I could instead be watching a film, a documentary, some stand-up comedy or - indeed - the news. And it's not a game I've any knack for playing either, so in short: it's not for me.
This can make living in England a little tiresome - where love of beer, women and money come distant 2nd, 3rd and 4th to the nation's almighty love of FOOTBALL. But living in England is bliss, compared to being an Englishman outside of his home.
"English, ay? Blah-blah-blah Beckham blah-blah-blah Manchester United, blah-blah-blah Rooney, ay?"
Yeah, topic of conversation got distinctly ball-shaped with the neighbours for a bit of that Tuesday.
More fun was the conversation about offensive and non-offensive terms for the female of the species, after I inadvertently called Joss "woman" - "maybe romantic enough back in caveman days", said the neighbour; "good enough for John Lennon in 1980", said I.
After a bit, we made our excuses and went to watch The Last King Of Scotland (after being assured that Roger's Videos don't actually uphold late fees, so long as you don't piss-take... this may explain why most of their titles tend to be unavailable, but whatever).
Wednesday 4th July:
Watch the second half of The Last King Of England. Good times.
Other than that, I really can't remember what we did...
Um. Oh right, the Aquarium!
So, we started out - me, Joss and Lou - her mum - with a very opulent and decadent picnic out in some way gorgeous garden somewhere. Meatballs and curries and samosas and salads, and mwah. That was lovely, and a right good laugh.
And then from there, we hooked up with Alex and headed on to the aquarium, where we saw watchamicallit whales spitting on children, and all sorts of cool critters of the sea. The undisputed highlight was seeing the otters getting fed - cute little buggers! Using their little hand-like-flipper-thingies! Wolfing it down, they were! They were adorable.
We got a cup with a picture of them on, as a souvenir. Also fridge magnets, for my co-workers who requested them. Fun fun.
And then we were ready for "a refreshing cocktail" (or two or three) and so after a long, hot, sticky wait in the queue for this trendy bar-type place, we had some very nice drinks and some pretty nice food. Alex and Lou had seafood - which didn't seem right to me: admiring and devouring the wonders of the ocean in the same day.
The night was dampened somewhat by my really, really wanting a cigarette in this environment. But I lived. And we all exchanged drinking-too-much stories - which included the story of my proposing to their daughter, hilariously enough. Marvellous.
On the way back to the car, they insisted I climb on some rocks in front of the river for a photo opportunity. I explain that unlike most people, my fears and phobias are enhanced rather than diminished, under the influence of alcohol. This didn't sway them any though, so out there somewhere is a picture of me very awkwardly leaning on Jossie, from a little wall, half a foot behind her.
Thursday 5th July:
Or: the day we headed down to Penticton for the big wedding on Saturday! But not before Graeme took us down to the beach to teach us how to "skim board", I think it might be called. Surfing on the shallow puddles that wash up over the course of a beach, for the laymen like you and me.
I watched Graeme try to teach Joss with little real joy for maybe twenty minutes, which was quite fun. Then I had a go. And managed to go flat on my back. Embarassing, painful and more than a little clothes-wettening for this poor English mug who is without bathing suit, and instead opting for a perfectly dampenable shorts-and-t-shirt combo.
When we got back we played a little of a cardgame that's new to me, by the name of "31" - turns out I'm a freakin' natural, as I whip both Joss's and Graeme's freakin' butts like four hands in a row.
Then we spend like six hours in the car, listening to The Cars, a couple of things I can't remember now, and way too much Pearl Jam for my liking. I mostly played Sudoku and Mario Kart DS.
It was pretty late when we got up there, I don't think too much happened...
I'm having a hard time distinguishing Thursday memories from Friday memories at this point. In the sake of getting somewhere and not just sitting here scratching my itchy palms, I'm going to assume more things happened on the Friday than, in actuality, probably did. (Shit, we may even have gone up on the Wednesday, I'm that confused now. Anyway...)
Actually, no, fuck it - I think I'm piecing it together. OK -- we settled in, and then we started drinking - to celebrate having survived so much Pearl Jam, I'm sure (don't get me wrong, I like Pearl Jam, but not a full 80-minute CD of them and not when I'm stuck in the car).
There were plenty of relatives floating around, who meeted us, greeted us and enlisted us for the decoration committee the next day. Some crazy people were actually cleaning the beach - which was crazy, because it only needed doing again the next day!
Joss, Grae and I played some more cards, but this time it was more fun because we were way drunk and Joss kept drunkenly trying to convince me that Graeme hated me. Classy.
The night ended with me, Joss, her grandparents and a close family friend of theirs, sat out the front, drinking, and shooting the breeze. The older ladies at the table eventually made their excuses, until it was just me, Joss and her grandfather (Bill, if I'm not mistaken) playing catch up. Sample dialogue:
ME: I'm going to have to either go to bed, or have another beer.
BILL: Have another beer!
Fun times. We talked about his band, and what we'd been doing these last three years (which apparently can be summed up thusly: Paris, Amsterdam, Bob Dylan concert).
He mentioned something about 'fifty years ago' - relating to the propery, perhaps.
"A lot's changed since then, ay?", Joss suggested.
"No, not really", came Bill's reply.
"The more things change the more they stay the same?", ventured Joss, once again.
"Yeah, something like that. Pretty much", said Bill.
My eye caught Bill's mammoth TV through the window.
"TV's have gotten a lot bigger", I suggest.
"Well yeah, they've gotten bigger", Bill counters, "but they haven't gotten any better. If anything they get worse".
And this cracks me up.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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[03 Jul 2007|06:09pm] |
I'm covered in itchy bites from last night's barbecue. This makes me cranky.
Joss went to walk the dog with her mum. This gave me time to write some entries and posts.
I then over-heard Joss coming back, not too much later than she had predicted.
A little later, I come out to see her, only to find that she - along with her entire family - has vamooshed, into thin air.
This does make me a little paranoid, I must admit.
So... here I am, until someone shows up and we'll see what's goin' on.
One thing I forgot to mention about yesterday is that a very nice girl that Joss knew by the name of Katie once got to reject the cocky advances of Bryan Ferry's son! To a North-East of England kinda boy like me, that's fun news.
Also - this computer is fun. The keys are resistant, it has a typewriter sort of feel to it. It makes me mess up my passwords, but makes everything I'm typing feel ultra-important.
Also, this screen makes everything look nice. So my entries feel ultra-important when I'm writing them, and then look ultra-important once more when I read them back. Swish.
I hear footsteps. Who could it be, who could it be?
...Someone's in the old bathroom-aroony. I suspect. Or else shaving-type equipment is operating itself. And as we all know, that would be quite a feat.
It's 6.15 now. We have to return The Last King Of Scotland by 11.00. And there's three of us to organise for the watching of it, and probably dinner plans independant to us to squeeze in and aaaaargh!
Anyway, Joss has found me now. So... in a bit!
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| The Story So Far (Part Three) |
[03 Jul 2007|02:23pm] |
Monday 2nd July:
...finally got down to watching Children Of Men (which was cool).
Then we slept.
I woke up at eight, read some more of my book (did you know that a majority of people think that they would like to choose their own treatment should they ever get cancer, but the majority of people who actually do have cancer actually want medical professionals to do all of the choosing on their behalf?), played some sudoku, and exercised on an... eliptical, I think it might be called. Cross between an exercise bike and a treadmill, sort of thing. I did that for fifteen minutes to the satanic beats of Marilyn Manson ("banana-nana, banana-nana, banana") and got myself good and sweaty.
Showered, had english muffins. Told you all about After Hours and other flicks I'd seen. Had some soup out in this glorious Canadian weather with the Canadians (where I noticed Alex too has been playing Sudoku as of late). We mused on the smoking ban. Alex chimed in with his Jedi-like nuggets of wisdom:
"When they introduced it over here, people thought all of the bars were going to go out of business and all of that. But, as it turns out, people still like to drink! So, people adapt".
I just hope people like to gamble as much as they like to drink, or else I'm out of a job. A handful of shops have already been closed recently - one of them relatively local to us. The company did nothing to let us know that had happened...
There was more reading and relaxing - I'm determined to finish the book before we go, as it's pretty darn good, and not mine. Then there was some napping.
Then me and Joss had a silly, overblown sort of upset. There was a social event on the horizon, and Joss asked me to change my pants, and I wanted to know why, exactly. We both felt the other was making a big deal out of nothing and there was some sadness. But we kissed and made up and made our way to the social event - a freaking, barbecue!
I love a good barbecue, and this was an excellent barbecue. I met about a dozen people all of whom I genuinely liked, and seemed to like me back just fine. I'm in a really good, universal kind of niche in a way. I'm twenty-three years old, so I'm not too old to relate directly to the young'uns about Nintendo and shit, nor am I too young to chat on with the myriad of adults - especially in respect to the fact that I have a job, a mortgage and a fiance (that everyone there has known since childhood, no less).
We played blabberball, or whatever the Hell it's called - some form of lawn bowling, anyway. I was terrible, but in a way that had me constantly laughing heartily at my own efforts. Which is probably the best way to play sports. I drank any number of Coronas stuffed with lime slices, and got quite drunk - though not as drunk as Joss was I heard say "fucking" right in front of her dad for the first time, insisted on telling everyone my first job involved naked women, and forgot to actually eat anything that wasn't plonked down right in front of her.
The above might sound like a list of criticisms; I thought she was adorable. I guess that's love for you.
There was one guy who really didn't want to leave - long after everyone else had and his wife tried dragging him out. He insisted on one last beer, then drank 80% of it and left the rest of it sitting there as he chatted on and on about this and that. Then proceeded to drink another beer that some anonymous party had abandoned some hours earlier. Alex the Jedi smiled politely the whole time, even though he had to get up and go to work about five hours down the line.
But it was fun. It was a really great night. And even after he'd gone I still had the energy to help Joss out of her swanky party clothes, so all's well that ends well.
And to think, really - it's only just begun.
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| The Story So Far (Part Two) |
[03 Jul 2007|01:07pm] |
Sunday 1st July (again):
Or, as you may not know, Canada day!
Which kicked off in style with some gorgeous omelettes with salsa and english muffins, and a couple of cups of tea. Heaven!
I feel the bizarre and distinctly un-twister desire to "stretch my legs", so we take the dog (the ever-miserable Merlin, who is as much like Eeyore as ever) down to the shops to get some very exciting shaving foam.
While I'm waiting outside of the shop with Misery, a Canadian with a cigarette (somewhat of a rare sighting!) comments to me: "he's waiting for his treat there", narrating exactly what happened as I gave him a cookie.
"Yeah, he usually is", I say back, quite amusingly, I thought.
The next couple of minutes pass without comment: I enjoy the shade, and she presumably enjoys her cigarette. Then as she finishes it and goes to leave she tells me:
"Well, bye. Have a nice day".
I was overwhelmed! I thanked her profusely and wished her the same! My God, these Canadians really are polite, I remembered.
And on the walk home an adorable little girl asked if she could pet our dog, and what his name was, and etc. - so even the kids are polite here! The exact same kid in England would have accosted us with a: "eya, giza tab - ee, canna kick ya dog?"
I then pondered whether Canadians are actually more polite on the whole, or if its that the neighbourhoods and areas we're likely to find ourselves in are those filled with people not quite rich enough to be snooty but quite rich enough that they don't have too much to be disgruntled about. I'm not sure about that one.
I felt like a little bit of a class traitor around this point. I don't know, it's a weird issue, I have weird feelings about it. Class is a funny thing.
Canada seems kind of sink or swim. You either ace high-school, university, etc. and then become something really high-rolling and live in a mansion, or you don't do all that great in high-school and become a hooker. Not that I know the first thing I'm talking about: so no offence, Canada - but, there you go.
I kicked back with a book: The Paradox Of Choice: Why More Is Less, while everyone decided how best to celebrate Canada Day. We went to a jazz festival at... um, whatchamicallit island. We ate some stonking food, we observed many an over-priced trinket, and we took in some pretty swinging jazz.
One of the bands announced how incredible it was that Canada was sooo great but had sooo few people (30,000 or so, I think). She called Canada the world's "best kept secret". I commented to the family that I'd met any number of British people who would love to move to Canada if they could possibly sort out the very selective visa process, and that perhaps what she should have called it was the world's "best guarded secret".
They laughed, which was a relief.
I got to know a bit more about Alex, Joss's dad, while Joss and her mum swanned off here and there - and that was really nice. I learned mostly of his transition from factory worker to teacher (he's since became a principal). He's a really great guy, I look up to him more than just about anyone. He once entered his religion as Jedi on a census, and that kinda sums him up pretty well, in a way.
I can just imagine him on the Jedi council back through Episodes I-III - right between Yoda and one of those funny-lookin' fuckers. Not that he's a funny-lookin' fucker. He's always thinking of others, he's warm and funny, generous, endlessly patient - and he would have been able to tell Anakin he was being a little jack-ass in a nice way that would actually make him re-evaluate his actions.
Now that I think - if Joss's dad had been on the Jedi council, I'm pretty sure Palpatine would have been stopped and Anakin would never have turned to the dark side.
After the jazz festival, me and Joss hooked up with Graeme, and we watched some knob-head on Youtube, kicking ass on Guitar Hero 2 with some Rush song. And we laughed muchly. Then we decided to go rent some flicks, and talked music on the way down.
We rented Children Of Men and The Last King Of Scotland, and bought two surprisingly crappy pizzas - that they didn't seem to want to sell us, I think the staff may have had their eyes on them.
When we got back we realised someone had left a Coachella DVD, so we flicked through that watching highlights (Oasis, Morrissey, The Stooges, Pixies, Bright Eyes and etc.) and that must have taken a good while longer than intended, because it was midnight when we...
TO BE CONTINUED...
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| The Story So Far (Part One) |
[03 Jul 2007|12:17pm] |
Forgive me Livejournal, for I have sinned.
It has been three months since my last Real Entry.
(And even then it depends how you define "Real Entry").
But these things happen. Anyway - I'm in freakin' CANADA now, baby. Vacationing it up with the in-laws and generally having an awesome time.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll bring you up to speed:
Friday 29th June:
I finished work by four, and headed back home - freedom had arrived! I would now be off work until Tuesday the 17th of July. It was a good feeling.
I was supposed to finish the packing when I came home, as Joss by this point had gone to work on the back-shift and we were due to leave first thing the next morning. I bravely shirked my duties and instead played Age Of Empires II for a couple of hours (no matter how many times I burn down the enemies' town hall, they just keep re-building it!). After that I was pretty poofed, so I had a nap.
My good friend Dan phoned just before I got a chance to lose conciousness. He's a freaking father now, and this was the first I'd spoken to him since this fabulous event, so I congratulated the shit out of him. We confirmed plans for wetting the babies head that night, and I didn't go to sleep after all.
Finally, I was ready to start being responsible. But I couldn't find the zebra-style CD case I needed, so I phoned Joss so as to inquire about its location. There was no answer. I had hit a dead end. So I had some sausage and bacon sandwiches. They were delicious.
Joss got back to me, and reminded me of some necessary tasks to do (booking a taxi, etc.). By about this point it was almost time to head pub-wards to meet up with Dan and his merry men. So I seperated the tasks into two kinds: those that needed doing immediately, and those that could wait until getting back from the pub.
I concluded booking the taxi was the only immediate concern, so did that. And then more-or-less went to the pub.
Now: "wetting the babies head" is a British tradition. When a baby is born, the father of said baby must be whisked off to the pub as soon as humanly possible. He must then be bought drinks by pretty much everyone he knows. The idea is to make your newly born baby proud by showing just how much you can drink in his honour. It's a grand old tradition.
The son goes by the name Luke William Flynn, which is a damn fine name, if you ask me. I got to hear Dan gushing about how wonderful Sam (the mother) has been through this whole miraculous transition, and also just how freakin' wonderful having a baby is. He thoroughly recommends it.
Other highlights of the night include:
- My hatching a theory that we humans didn't so much evolve from monkeys, so much as we were the product of incestuous monkey-relations - we are hairless, freaky-lookin' freaks shunned from polite monkey society. To them, we are the equivalent of ginger people.
- Our good buddy Gormy letting us know that the way he would most like to be greeted at our house is with an: "alright Gormy, we're having an orgy - come on in!"
- Tommy's admission that he'll masturbate anywhere. Apparently, that's what he's spent most of his time in Iraq doing.
- Tommy announcing himself as a "free buck", before upping the stakes in inviting people to come in his "mouth" and "ass", before announcing he was going to "get naked", before whipping his pants down to his ankles and running across the road while certain parties chased him spanking his ass.
Fun times, I'm sure you'll agree. Then John, Joss (who had joined us by now) and myself made the long walk home, belting out whatever tunes we could muster. Including a fabulous rendition of "The Beautiful People", with the riff appropriated as "banana-nana, banana-nana, banana".
Saturday 30th June:
I was about 2.00 AM when we made it home. Pulled an all-nighter to finish packing (and to play a little Mega Drive Monopoly (and at times, to stare zombie-like out of the window)).
Got a taxi at 7.30. Had breakfast at Burger King when it opened. Got on the train. Had a lousy over-priced sandwich. Fell asleep on Jossie. Made it to the airport, which has gone security mental. I'm sorry, but I don't even know if I give a fuck about all this 'terrorism' bull - I'm not convinced anyone has the moral authority to search my shoes and fondle my fiance.
I mean what is it with planes? People have tried - and succeeded - to blow up all sorts of shit. The worst bombings I can think of in recent memory, in the UK, were on buses! But no-ones ever searched my bag on a bus, like. Crazy fuckin' world we live in...
Getting through security put us both in a grouchy mood, and the world's worst lunch at an airport Garfunkels did nothing to alleviate our moods. So Joss perked up buying chocolates and booze for the family, while I played some Mario Kart on the DS. And then we weren't quite so grouchy.
We both nodded off during take-off, so we were already in the air when we came to. A real freakin' jack-ass sat next to us on the plane, he couldn't have made a bigger freakin' deal out of letting one or both of us out to use the bathroom every few freakin' hours. Joss finished her Vonnegut book. I played Sudoko on the DS. We chatted some, but strangers were too tightly packed in for much real conversation. Especially when the most pressing things you'd want to say are: "what's with this jackass?" and "I think the kid behind me is kicking me!". The flight was looong.
I caught most of The Pursuit Of Happyness while Joss was napping. It seemed very cute, if a little boring.
Sunday 1st July:
We finally return to earth around the 2.00 AM mark. Then change our watches.
Saturday 30th June (Again):
Joss's folks couldn't have been more excited to see us. There was much hugs, and they had flowers for both of us, which is always nice. Drinks were drunk, food was eaten, Joss got a "welcome home!" and I got a "welcome to your second home!" (from Grae, top man). There was much in the way of laughter and merriment. And then, there was much in the way of sleeeeeep.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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