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Thursday 20 November 2008
All Day, All Day
Talking to James in Brasilia earlier about a dance party he went to last night I was suddenly reminded of the video to the Pet Shop Boys' Domino Dancing. If you've ever seen this video, you'll surely remember it: beautiful young people (male and female), jealousy, teasing, waterfalls, two boys fighting in the surf, and of course, people dancing in a South American street party. I've had to put on my Showbusiness video while I've been ironing, just to rekindle the memories.
Though I keep being distracted by the video for What Have I Done To Deserve This? - good old Dusty.
Why Am I So Tired?
This is unreal. I'm sleeping okay at the moment - not great but okay, and by my standards I've certainly slept worse. But I'm *permanently* tired. I had a nap this afternoon for goodness' sake.
Weekends are getting daft. I actually end up wasting more of them than is healthy just flaked out. Something is going to have to be done.
Anyway, I'm heading out to the cinema with Alison imminently, so I'm hoping not to fall asleep.
Edit - Later: I wish I had fallen asleep. Hollywood Homicide was the film of choice, and I can probably tell you everything you need to know about this variant on the cop/buddy movie by telling you that the comic twist in this one was provided by the complications caused by one of the cops' second career as (wait for it) a real estate agent.
Second Call
I'm mailing some people about it today, but for anyone who missed my original invitation - two weeks today (Friday 12th) is my birthday celebration, and I'd love to have my fellow bloggers and blog-readers come along.
If you'd like to join me and a few close friends, let me know and I'll let you have details.
The 'Blackout'
I wasn't caught directly in the power failure last night - which is to say that I was somewhere where the lights went off, but I wasn't stuck on a tube train or anything too grim.
I did have a bit of an evil journey home on the buses, however, which were of course heaving, and the bus that I eventually got onto terminated short so that it could be sent back into the central area, where there was apparemtly a shortage.
This morning's Metro, with its 'just like New York' approach, seems to have missed some small details regarding the scale of the New York experience, however....
I've Refrained From Comment
...About much that's been in the news lately, because I've felt that there hasn't much I could add to the Hutton Enquiry that would make its participants appear any more ridiculous than they're making themselves.
But I wouldn't want you to think I wasn't paying attention. Because I've been avid.
And Speaking Of Family
My little brother has got engaged.
I'm a little surprised, but very, very pleased for him.
And apparently at some indeterminate point in the future, I get to be best man. Which could be interesting....
Looking For Dad
I've been watching the first part of Channel 4's new series Looking For Dad, which follows a series of people looking for their biological fathers. It's been interesting viewing, not least because when the production company was starting work on it several months ago, I actually spoke to one of their researchers about possibly being one of the series' subjects.
In the event, obviously, I'm not in it, but it might have created an interesting situation in my life right now if I had been. Apart from anything some fairly major questions might have been answered.
An Unplanned Big Night
There's a certain Tuesday night from a few years ago that lives on in infamy for those of us who (over) indulged in it. Generally, going out on Tuesdays since then has been avoided in case of unexpected repetition, but in response to a note from Philippa about a quick drink, I threw caution to the wind. What followed was not quite in the same league as the dreaded Black Tuesday, but was pretty hefty, nevertheless.
It's amazing how time can fly when four people, five bottles of wine and a bottle of champagne get together.
Sometimes, The World Makes No Sense
Not long after I first moved into this neighbourhood, back before I bought the flat and was living with Chris round the corner, we came upon the opening day of a restaurant in the area. The couple who ran the place, Ray and Rebecca, were wonderful, he was the chef, she looked after the front of house. They had set up there with a specific aim to bring something new to the community, and they certainly did - I like to think it was heart. They had a very clear vision of what they wanted for the place. Somewhere people could go to for an evening, where they didn't turn tables, and if you wanted to linger over coffee for three times as long as you had over the meal, that was okay. A place where Ray and Rebecca were likely to give you a round of drinks on the house and come and join you for a chat at the end of the evening. The food, which Ray sourced all the ingedients for from suppliers he knew and trusted, was always brilliant, and the wine list as distinctive and impressive as everything else.
Ray and Rebecca had their ups and downs, and eventually there was just Ray, his sons, and their wonderful waiting staff, led by José, from Portugal, who everyone fancied :-)
I haven't been in for a while - pressures of work and time and such kept me occupied, though I kept thinking I'd wander along with a book one evening and just enjoy the food and the atmosphere as I've done in the past. There was something about the place that created a sense of community and welcome. It was the kind of place that every neighbourhood should have, but few do, and it was, in a very specific way, an extension of its owner's personality.
I went past last night for the first time in a while and discovered the place closed up and messages and cards of sympathy arranged outside, with flowers and candles. Ray, it seemed, had died.
And now I've found out what happened.
Ray was murdered by someone who he'd refused to serve more wine to one night, who'd come back later with a knife and stabbed him to death.
There are simply no words to describe how I feel just at the moment. Though my toast this evening won't only be to the concept of 'home' any more.
Home
Three years ago, I moved into this flat. I became propertied. I began to live completely by myself for the first time after thirty four years. The first time I closed the door behind me and was alone in the then-empty space, it was a revelation. In many ways, the act of coming home and shutting the world outside has never lost its magic for me.
I'm a highly social person, as I think you all know, but there's a part of me, and it's not a small part, that treasures my solitude. This space, small and insignificant as it is, is what allows me to *have* that solitude, and I don't regret a single solitary moment I've spent in it.
I shall be raising a small glass of something distilled in 1976 later to mark the occasion.
The Blackout
Having followed the news of the US/Canada blackout with interest, I'm pleased to have found this satellite photo of North America during it. That's one hefty chunk of darkness they had there.
Greengages
One of the guys at work brought round a bowl of greengages the other day. He'd been in his local greengrocer's, and the grocer had told him that the greengages were very good that day, so he'd bought some.
I can barely count the things that are wrong in the previous two sentences.
To start with, GREENGAGES? Who even knows what the hell a greengage is these days? (It's a type of plum, by the way.)
And then, he has a local greengrocer. Yeah, right, 'cos there's one of those on every street corner in London.
And this greengrocer actually recommends things that are especially good today.
I mean to say - it's like something out of Mapp and Lucia for heaven's sake!
Unreal
Well, I had major good intentions to get some rest last night so that I could make the most of this long weekend. Fat chance. I was still awake at 5am. Though at least it gave me a chance to have a good solid run at some of my new reading.
I'm having quite an active weekend according to current schedules actually. Quite unusual for me.
Small World
In one of those not very shocking twists of fate, I bumped into 'the puppy man' this evening. The reason for the lack of shock is that I was in the ame bar in which I met him last time on the same night of the week. We exchanged pleasantries and that was it. He'd shaved off his beard "so that I'd look younger".
It didn't work.
Brutality
So:
I upset someone this evening. Fairly majorly. Tears were involved. I didn't mean to upset them, though I was fairly sure it was unavoidable, as the fact was that I had to tell them something they didn't want to hear.
Not fun though.
And it got me thinking. Basically, this was a guy who on the basis of very little knowledge of me had declared himself to be falling for me, sending me messages galore about how he was always thinking of me, and stuff. And I simply didn't feel the same, and not to tell him would have been extremely unfair. To tell him that I was creeped out by his attentions was perhaps less subtle, but still equally honest.
But a few years ago, in a situation I've never discussed here before, I found myself on the receiving end of what I and others considered to be obsessive behaviour from a then-friend of mine, and she got to the point where I felt she actually needed help. That got very messy indeed, and ended up dragging other people into what was a thoroughly unpleasant situation.
So now I'm wondering if I give off some vibe that encourages odd behaviour.
The Uncertainty Principle
Alison and I have been playing tennis this evening, and some very selfish people were hogging the hard courts for a very long time. So we ended up on the grass courts for the first time. This was a very bad thing.
If you've ever played tennis on a badly-maintained municipal grass court, you may understand where I'm coming from. Which is more than we understood with regard to the ball. Between the worn patches, the bumps, the dips, and the plain old holes, there was literally no way of predicting which way the bounce was going to go.
We were flailing about like idiots. There was no point in trying to play an actual match, because skill would have played no part whatsoever. In the end we just knocked the ball backwards and forwards for an hour and got our very frustrating exercise running after it when it bounced in yet another bizarre direction.
Maddening.
New Books At Last
I've been moaning recently to anyone who'll listen that I need to read some new books. I've hit a real re-reading phase in the last few months, which isnn't a bad thing, as I'm one of nature's born re-readers, but I felt like I needed to browse and select some completely new material for a change.
So usefully, at the weekend, I wandered into Waterstones and found that they were having a 'Buy three for the price of two' deal on tableloads of paperbacks. And more usefully stiull, for once in a way, there were three books that I actually wanted to read included, instead of one I really wanted, another I sort of thought might be okay for the tube, and a third that I'd never read but I don't want to feel like I haven't got something for nothing.
So in the next few weeks I'll be indulging in:
Dorian by Will Self
The Life of Pi by Yann Martel, and
Dead Air by Iain Banks
Started Dorian this morning, and I was pulled straight on in - I suspect it's going to be hard to put down.
Not Quite Matricide
But my word we came close.
Well it was an interesting (long) weekend. Mucho shopping was done, and a great deal of parental judgementalism was aired, which is one of the things that most pisses me off about my beloved mother. Honestly, she can pass judgement on anyone or anything with less reason and more venom than anyone I've ever known.
Exploring out into Kent on Sunday, we did some Show House viewing, for no better reason than that they were there. We found a couple of great developments near Chatham - I'll track down links when I get a minute.
We went to France for the day on Monday and that was fun - we hit the hypermarket and then wandered round Boulogne old town, I seem to recall patisserie being involved, and a very late return home to have a telephone call about, well, work, basically.
Emergency Contact
So my brother's on holiday this week, and just before he went, he called to tell me that his dog is in the kennels and he's given the kennel people my details for emergency contact. "They'll only call if she gets sick and needs to have an operation. They have to have consent for an operation, so if they call and tell you she needs one, just say yes. She's insured anyway."
But can I handle the responsibility?????
Parental Assault Imminent
Okay, well, in a couple of hours, I'll be picking up my mother as she arrives for her birthday weekend, and between taking her to stay at a friend's, and a day in France on Monday, I'm not sure how much I'll be posting over the next few days. So I'll just say that I hope you all have a great weekend, and I'll try to catch up at some point.
Snogging Alison
So it was Alison's birthday today, and I've been out with her for birthday drinkage at Canary Wharf. Fun evening - she's got some very attractive colleagues.
And yes, for reasons that I won't go into now, there was some deep snoggage going on. Me, her, tongues, I'll go out on a limb and say that it wasn't pretty....
Not Sporty
I don't think the observation that I'm not terribly interested in sports will come as much of a shock to anyone. But I do like rugby. And I'd have liked being in the crowd for this match - it's the annual nude touch rugby match held as part of the New Zealand Backpackers' Festival in Dunedin. Though most of the winning team didn't take their clothes off because they thought it was too cold....
Aw. Poor babies.
Sorry about the quality of the scan - here's the full image.
You Know....
....one of the nice things about meeting up with someone you haven't seen for a while is that she can say "Gosh Jon, you're really losing weight" practically the minute she sees you :-)
Planning Ahead
So, I'll be celebrating another year closer to the grave next month, and as has become traditional over the last couple of years, I'm thinking of having drinks in the bar near the office.
And for the first time, I'm opening up the invitation to by fellow London bloggers plus any regular readers who would like to come along.
I'm aiming for Friday 12th September, and I thought if I mentioned it now I stood a chance of getting into people's schedules. It may end up being a joint do with one or two other people, so if we can get the numbers, we might lay on some food and stuff.
So if you've been before, you know the arrangement, but let me know if you'd like to come along so that I can get a sense of numbers. If you haven't, but you'd like to come along, mail me and I'll give you details.
Some Comics Stuff
Judging by the news that has been emerging so far from the WizardWorld Convention in Chicago, the future of comics isn't changing a great deal.
DC are changing the status quo on Superman to something "more street-level", which if I cared at all about Superman I'd say is exactly the wrong direction in which to take him. Grant Morrison, who everyone says should be given a Superman title, has long been cited as saying that Superman should be an almost Christ-like force, which seems to rule him out of getting a regular Superman gig for at least as long as this 'street level' status quo thing is maintained. Oh lord, I'm talking about Superman - shoot me now.
Otherwise, the prevailing view seems to be 'meh'. I've spoken to a couple of the Millarworlders there, and the partying seems far more the focus than the conventioning.... *shock*.
One thing not coming out of the convention, but rather coming out of my new regular comic shop is the final issue of Joss Whedon's Fray the hundreds of years later sequel to Buffy. The delays on it have been a ppalling, but it's just about been worth the wait. The major reason I mention it is because I know John was waiting on the series to finish in order that he can start looking for the collected version, and I wanted to give him a heads-up.
The Heat....
....It's unbearable....
We seem to have broken the magical 37.7° mark. Which always sounds much more magical in old money.
Anyway, this made tennis this morning what I can only describe as a rather damp experience. Still, at least I played, and am maintaining my determination to keep exercising and eating more healthily. Also, I'm definitely not getting breathless, even though today was purely singles and so was much more active than the usual mostly doubles.
I need to start building in some other exercise now too, to add some variety and give me things to keep doing when other people are not available, as will inevitably be the case.
Crazy Week
And I do mean *crazy*.
Between the heat, which has been unbearable - we have glass-topped desks in the office, and I've been sticking in a major way, and the stuff we've had going on at work, it's been pretty damn' shattering.
I had all sorts of plans to start the weekend with a night out, but the thought of standing in a bar with a load of other people just doesn't bear entertaining. So here I am at home with a tall cold drink and every intention of trying to flake out early on....
Bumboy Dreams
While I'm in a quoting mood, I think it was Darian who I first saw refer to Bombay Dreams thusly, and I see no reason to break with his tradition.
Yes, on a night like this, I've spent two and a half hours in a large dark room with several hundred other people watching a musical.
Look, I wasn't thinking, someone said cheap tickets, it was two months ago when no one in their right mind would have said the weather was going to get like this, and in a momentary abberation of mind I'd forgotten Andrew Lloyd-Webber had anything to do with it.
But it's not bad. *Very* well staged, and the music is cracking. It works better when it's playing on the flash and the glamour of Bollywood rather than the intimate love scenes and attempts at worthiness, but at those points when it does the former, it does it very well indeed. The staging of a number in a prison early in the first act is absolutely stunning, and pretty much any of the big production numbers is worth the discounted price of admission.
But bloody hell was it hot in there.
When In Doubt....
....quote ChrisR:
It's too fucking hot.
It's too fucking hot.
It's too fucking hot.
It's too fucking hot.
A Persona Response
Thanks for all the comments in reply to my question about online personas. I thought I'd offer a brief overview of my own take on the subject.
To start with, as some people touched on, there is a significant component of selectivity in the presentation of an online side to one's personality that simply isn't available in real life. Here we can choose the basic subject we're going to discuss, take time to frame our thoughts before setting them down, and then edit them before publishing them. In real life we can be suddenly confronted by a situation or question, and be forced to formulate a response on the fly, and our physical expressions can give away as much as our words. Like everyone, I benefit from that process of selection and control, though I do open myself up a little more by having the comment system and engaging in some of the discussions, I still have the option not to do so.
But I can't quite imagine creating an entirely ficticious persona and sustaining it for weeks, months and years. The effort would be huge. When you look at some of the best-known such cases, like the KayCee Nicole thing, and really break it down, it's pretty disturbing. The woman behind that had mailing addresses set up, used photos of someone else that she claimed were KayCee, apparently adopted yet other personas on message boards to lend further creedence to her, sent the people 'KayCee' got to know gifts, and was, by any sensible measure, pretty scary. Where do you find the time, apart from anything? And sustaining the performance for all that time, I'd have thought that would be a killer.
But what I want to touch on most is the impact that an incident like that one has on other people. Not even those directly drawn in, but the casual observer. Because like it or not, online is an increasingly common way of establishing acquaintenceships. 'Communities' are formed around shared interests or locations, and the opportunity for people to get to know others without ever actually meeting them face to face grows all the time. And when a visible personality turns out to be a fake, the cynicism meter must bump up a few degrees.
My own personal cynicism meter is permanently ratcheted pretty high, so it's not much of a deal to me, but imagine you're someone just starting out on such a new acquaintenceship when within your community someone turns out to be making it all up, or even just cracks a joke that he was doing so. It could make everyone question (or at least reconsider) each other's reality. And I happen to think that online friendships can be very positive, but they have to be based in either 100% trust or a total willing suspension of mistrust. And when you're first starting out on this kind of thing, the ground rules around this stuff haven't been established, so the rug can be pulled out from under very easily.
Probably more to follow in the next day or few.
Test
Something mad is going on.
Edit. Except Dave the genius came to the rescue. I was in Muppet mode again.
City Life
I think you know you're in The City Of London when you buy a bottle of wine and the barperson ask if you need a receipt. And it's 8pm.
Do I look like a person with an expense account??????
Online Personas
I got to thinking about how people come across online at the weekend, after reading a column by a guy who was 'outing' several online personas he'd created. In fact, he was attempting satire, and good luck to him, but it did make me think. I remembered that whole 'KayCee Nicole' fiasco, and a few other well-known revelations about fabricated people.
Generally-speaking, I take most things that people I don't know in real-life say about themselves with a large pinch of salt. It's *way* too easy to play a part online - I've done it myself occasionally. Not here, but when I've had occasional random ICQ contacts appear, times like that. And unless everyone online is just willing to play along, there are some mind-numbingly credulous people around.
But I do wonder - there are people whose blogs I read who seem to be one kind of person, but who could easily be totally different. And there are people who post here in the comments or on fora I frequent, and I think I have a bit of a handle on them, but I guess you can never be entirely sure when it's just words on a screen.
So here's a bit of a question if anyone wants to offer a view:
If you have an online presence, do you think it reflects what you're like in real life? (Of course, you can lie here too, but I'm not sure it's worth it....)
Well That's A Weight Off
I'm not one who fixates on my weight. I'm aware of it, of course, and that there's too much of it, but I don't fret about every pound up or down on a daily basis. But I suddenly discovered yesterday that a small milestone has passed. For as long as I've actually had bathroom scales, which is since Christmas 2001, I've been generally somewhere in a range from X to X and a half stone.
And suddenly, having made the decision a couple of weeks ago to make a proper effort on the eating-more-healthily-and-taking-a-bit-of-exercise front, I'm below X stone. Which is very encouraging.
Speaking of taking a bit of exercise, this morning's tennis was bith more energetic and a good deal sweatier than last Sunday's. My word but it was warm out there.
As Odd Evenings Go....
....last night was a bit of a winner.
I met a couple of friends for a drink in town in what for the sake of accuracy I'll call a homosexual establishment. When I got there they were already talking to someone I didn't know, an Australian guy who works for a bank over here. Said Australian guy, not to beat about the outback, was rather cute. And progressively, he and I seemed to be doing more talking to each other than to the others. As the people I was meeting were going to be making a night of it, and I wanted to get home, they cleared out, leaving me with the Antipodean cutie, which was fine by me. Except that about five minutes after they'd gone, he finished his drink and got up to go and catch his train. I was so thrown that I didn't even click into "get his number" mode. Which is a pity, because to my shock, as he was going past me to leave, he touched my shoulder and when I turned towards him, gave me a very nice kiss goodbye indeed.
And the oddness continued. As I still had most of a pint to finish, I settled in to do so, and suddenly found myself in the middle of a group of people who all knew each other, and whose number included a rather drunk guy who was of the loudly and energetically drunk style. He wasn't obnoxious though, and I got more and more drawn in to their group drama, to the point where I was talking to two of the group who happen to live near each other and me. And they were *both* paying me rather more attention than is usual. (I wasn't complaining, you understand.)
But honestly, of all the phrases you can imagine someone using to try and pick me up, would you ever in a million years expect to hear "You're like a little puppy"???????
No. Me neither.
Welcome One, Welcome All
As I occasionally do at the start of a month, I've been taking a look at the traffic for this place for last month, and am startled to note that the gentle trend generally upward in visits is gentle no more. Well over 800 extra visits occurred last month over June, which was in turn the businest "since records began". I know a few new people who've been stopping by, including Pete and some of his friends (Hi guys), and James (Hi sexy), but even so, that's quite a leap by my standards.
Anyway, a few 'interesting facts':
More people came here after searching on Gillian Anderson's name than those who searched on mine.
Other odd or outright disturbing searches included:
"april or victorians or arrived or lunching or cooperatives"
"how to not be pushy in life" - (came to the wrong place here, sweetheart)
"first time anal" - (if you're looking up how to do it on the internet, you're not ready)
"masturbationhorror" - here it is
my second visitor looking for "george clooney's arse"
and the most disturbing of all:
"18 year old in a female urologist". I believe the phrase you're looking for is: "Euw!"
