Thomas Truax at the Tamesis Dock

Another gig review. I span this one off quite quickly, so I think it's a bit cheesy, but hey, maybe it's my best writing ever....
Thomas Truax is devastatingly hard to desribe anyway.
I do think boat gigs are probably some of my favourite gigs ever. I can only really think of three times I've attended a show on a boat, this being one of them, but there's always something extra-special about it.

Pie-losophy

Basically, although it seems possible everything this man said was a mixture of highly honed logic and utter irreverence, the pie joke is by far my favourite.

I have always been a huge fan of the one-liner, leading pundits thus far being Mitch Hedberg, for whose improbable musings people have devoted whole sites:
"If you are flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit."
"I don't have a girlfriend. But I do know a woman who'd be mad at me for saying that."

Milton Jones, a now frequent face in panel show/comedic programming:
"People try to put him down - talking 'bout my blind alsation"

Douglas Adams, who never claimed to hold them at the centre of his repertoire but still flung out hundreds in every book he wrote:
"The ship hung in the air in exactly the way that bricks don't."
"What's so bad about being drunk?"

"Ask a glass of water"

Then there is possibly the only one-liner I have never, ever forgotten, by meister of cheesey stand-up, Tim Vine:
"I've got a sponge door - don't knock it."

I don't know why exactly I decided to write about one-liners, except perhaps because the more I hear them the more I'm convinced that the art of saying things in as brief and silly a manner as possible is devastatingly important.

Another lil review.

Big gig review coming up - hopefully. I didn't actually manage to take any decent pictures (bloody Canon and the settings I can't be arsed to learn how to adjust) so my editor may not want it, but in that case it will go straight here anyway :D

Another review, you say?

Yeah, that's all for now.

In Defense of Cerebus

Little while since I've posted so here's some more bits.
For instance I know these people.

And also also also this amazing interview which I primarily wanted to argue with, Alan being my hero but still managing to seem incredibly far up his own arse really...
Unfortunately I have been beaten to a rebuttal (yeah, I did giggle at the word rebuttal) and so must resign myself to only making further comment.
The irony, which I relish, is that I hadn't heard of Cerebus until a full week ago, when I was inspired to look it up by the all-knowing TV Tropes, who have captured me in more information-clicky chains than I care to mention and had me laughing nervously about how much of a g33k i really must be. Says the woman arguing the finer rudiments of graphic novel writing.
Definitely to be continued.

Hey my lovers, more lovely lazy luscious links so I don't have to come up with my own content. Bahahahahaha.
For instance, how awesome is this?
I have always, deep down inside, wanted to be the person behind the special effects for this kinda stuff. I mean, it looks fantastic. It's probably the closest you could get to being an actual sculptor, without the artistic pretension.
My life has taken a different path however, and I doubt I can find a way to divert it as yet. I guess, go from working in publishing to screenwriting to bugging all of the friends I know who are going to be film-makers someday (there are a couple)..... and see what happens......

Some o' me poetry

To fob you off for a bit with my writing, I found some old poetry of mine and felt it was alright enough to put up. It was written mid-2008 and fairly obviously revolves around a love affair of that particular time (I think he lasted a few weeks :p). Well either way I don't tend to write poetry, it's not really one of my talents, but here you are. Unedited!

Honeyed eyes, ringed with night
You work in words
I cannot seem to find them.
I continue to hope
Because love is neither here,
Nor here, nor here, nor here
But you, numinal, hushed
Sit with me
And provide the question
That does not need answering

---------------------------------------------------

Your smile
Planted a seed
I think it will do well
My heart is dark and warm and deep
I think it will do well
But just in case
My own one soul cannot nourish it enough
Keep giving me your smile

---------------------------------------------------

Spiralling
upward
Snow in
whirling wind
In the night
Among joy and stars

The Flaming Lips' Dark Side of the Moon

Holy crap I finally got another review posted.

I apologise again for being so slack. I have a few ideas for posts but mainly my grand designs have been my own undoing, as I keep putting them off. Expect some good ol fashioned reviews and short, absent-minded rants in future, like normal.
As I mention in the review, I am shamefully unaware of the Dark Side of the Moon album and most of the body of Pink Floyd's work. All I really know about them, from an erstwhile boyfriend who was a genuine fan, is that their name comes form the lead singer flicking through his jazz records looking for a name and coming across the words 'pink' and 'floyd'. I would say there is a high incidence of the name 'floyd' in the genre of jazz, but that's another black hole in my knowledge so maybe I won't. I also know the song 'Money' inspired the opening of crazily kitsch 70s-80s sitcom Are You Being Served? Or possibly the other way around... My research tells me DSotM was '73 and AYBS was '72 so it must be the other way around. Ahhh nostalgia time....

I said I was going to talk more about the Walking Dead series but my head is so full of cold I've mostly been sitting semi-prone going 'woooooo!' due to the amount of pain medication in my head.
I am, however, branching out in a desperate bid to work out what to do with my life and setting up a shop on Etsy. Which will shortly be all linked up here, don't you worry.
I'm starting with my comic books, hopefully putting together some sewed items, and eventually some more personalised knitted items and greeting's cards. I've been making cards for my friends for so long, but it never occurred to me to keep a record of the designs. There are countless Nicole Holgate originals drifting out there that may be worth untold riches someday...
Well anyway, here's hoping this new venture works out!

YEAHZOMBIESYEAH

Well I'm insanely excited about all of this so I just thought I'd shove this straight up here and actually chat about it later on...
An Epic Walking Dead Interview

100 Stories for Haiti, the follow-up

Well I have been a truly terrible blogger, it's been over a month since I last put something up, and for anyone out there still reading, I apologise hugely. Rest assured I shall come storming back with a tower of pointless frivolity.
To start us off, as I have also neglected to review anything for a while *ahem hem* here is the collection of short stories that mine was not good enough to get into (unless they failed to tell me about it for some reason...):
100 Stories for Haiti Preview

I'm not going to put my story up on here either, to be honest I'm not surprised it didn't make the cut...
However if you are interested by the successful and genuine authors they did make use of then this should be worth attending:
Author's Reading, Brighton Waterstones
That's all for now, more soon, I promise.

Stuff

I found this. A fairly old video of my debut - or entire singing career if I'm being honest. Very embarrassed me directly behind Rowan. How lovely. I wonder if I can still fit into that dress...

Le Réveil Union Chapel June 2009 from Rowan Coupland on Vimeo.

Quickie

I can't actually remember if I've posted this up before but as I've been too busy to post in a while I thought I would just sling it up here. A short and sarky one:

Jeff the Brotherhood

I have a couple of nice posts planned, honest!!!! They are on their way and involve my usual pseudo-philosophical rantings. Also, looking forward to this (maybe).

A more personal version of a CV

Me as a Work in Progress

It's long been suggested that as a hip and happening young Brightonian woman (hrm), my blog could be used as my personal CV. This would be because, obviously, I'm a highly creative person seeking to break into a very competitive industry and thus need to prove myself before anyone would remotely consider giving me a chance.

I do think it's a good idea but also have several qualms. Frankly, whilst I am massively desirous of a job that I truly enjoy, that I am passionate about even, let alone really good at, I'm unsure how appropriate it would be to direct people here. Aside from the naturally weird side of this blog, it's always a danger to expose employers to your more creative side without knowing exactly what they are looking for. That said, it might work. However my other objection is that although I am incredibly, suffocatingly addicted to the internet, I don't particularly desire it to be part of my job description. I'm a huge, passionate advocate of books and printed publications. Real, live books, made of trees, (but sustainably), that you can hold and take out of libraries and smell the musky scent of old glue and essential, fascinating knowledge. I've decided instead of trying to continue some kind of clever showcase of myself I'm going to rant about all the reasons why I am perfectly suited to all kinds of work and yet can never seem to acquire any.

I have a single-mindedness towards most tasks which makes me brilliant at selling and researching, providing I have just enough interest in the task. Not to say that I cannot multitask, but I am far better when given one specific thing to see thoroughly to the end. Thorough-ness is another extensive attribute of mine. I'm a perfectionist and so like to know exactly what I'm doing or the standards required of me. I've had so many jobs where the continual micromanaging and moving of boundaries made it impossible to do something correctly. Or even worse, where the boss expected something of me that I simply couldn't interpret, and every action, even asking for help regularly, seemed to worsen the situation. Simply put, autonomy would be essential for me too. Set me off and give me space to shape the role around myself. Obviously while checking that I am doing what is required of me: feedback is essential. I just can't stand continually being told off or frowned upon because the way I work is not the way my superior works. Either I'm doing the job correctly, or I'm not.

And I usually am – I'm reliable, resourceful, polite, and honestly, not stupid. I like thinking on my feet, and enjoyed my times in cafes and restaurants most when rushed off of them. I'm punctual and I'm genuinely hardworking. I worked my arse off for 8 months doing a cleaning job whilst writing my dissertation, when I worked at H Samuels as a Christmas temp I was on the board in the stockroom with the full time members of staff because of my selling abilities, flourished as a waitress at an Italian restaurant over a summer of madly busy lunchtimes (but aren't they all), spent hour after hour litter-picking with Oxfam at Reading festival, and generally submit myself to all kinds of backbreaking labour for very little money.

I volunteer in the Amnesty Bookshop whenever I can, write reviews for a website andBrighton Source magazine and in general do a lot of things for no monetary gain whatsoever. I would happily continue doing so would it not mean that I would be unable to survive. I was a cleaner rather than having no job at all, and subsequently this has actually meant that it is more difficult to get away from it and find another job because all the Job Centre wants of you is for you to not be on the dole, despite the fact that I would be technically better off.

I'm bad at crosswords, but this means I don't faff around trying to do them. Too often.

Took me long enough.... THE BLUE LIGHT INITIATIVE LAUNCH NIGHT!!!!

I cannot for the life of me work out how to embed a flickr photostream, but here is a rather comprehensive record taken by the lovely Freiya of the following:
The Blue Light Initiative Launch Night

The Latest Bar has long been the attractive host of more esoteric and open-ended events, such as The Ukelele Research and Development Society, charity auction evenings, parties, and any and every kind of live music. The starry backdrop of their downstairs venue was thus the perfect mixture of dimly lit and enchanting required for the launch of The Blue Light Initiative.

The Blue Light Initiative is the musical brainchild of Alastair Gray, lead singer of The Stars Down to Earth, and is looking to recruit as many bands as possible for regular nights around the venues of Brighton, not only seeking to open doors for Brighton bands of any genre but also to give the public what it wants: sweeties, raffles, the occasional on-stage live-action snapping of drum-kits, and a large amount of excellent music at reasonable prices. Wilkommen Collective, be afraid.

Aside from the copious amounts of sweets lying around, every punter was provided a ticket on entry which gave them a chance to win one of several amazing prizes later in the night, including the illustrious beat-box stylophone, which has no doubt provided its new owner with literally hours of entertainment. However, we're not really here to talk about the quirky and essential touches which make an interesting evening a truly special one: we want to talk about the bands who are already a part of this exciting new musical endeavour.

The Bobby McGees were on usual twee form with their mixture of rhythm, love of love, ukelele, and super-strength adorable-ness. Don't let them fool you though, their songs turn on a sixpence, and what you thought was a beautiful if sugary love song becomes a shouted tirade against everything that can go wrong, while an impressive snapshot of paranoid loneliness becomes a reminder of cosy friendship. It's all celebratory, and set to a shimmying and self-aware mix of do-wop beats and non-stop uke. Always worth a watch.

Yokoko struck me, brutally, with the impressive cohesion of incredibly varied influences – the perfect harmonies between dual lead guitarist Sam and keyboardist Sev are spot on. They are also mind-blowingly happy, even while Sev professes to songs such as 'Cold Black Heart' being largely centred on her or, in the case of 'Castanets with Bells', one hideously annoying flatmate. The cheery Japanese pop vibe is shouty, adorable and all-pervasive, reminding me in particular of the severe catchiness of Dogs Die in Hot Cars. Each song is similarly toe-tapping, loud, and above all, happy. Their sound provides a genre-defying meld of pop, folk, disco, ska and indie in crazy fusion, which nonetheless makes total sense to hear live and was inspiring a (very small) dance floor at the time. My only suggestion is that at the next gig they play someone ensures a larger floorspace is cleared...

The Beautiful Word appear to me as a band of two halves. Fronted by the blonde-and-redhaired duo of Emily and Megan, they are backed by a rhythm section to be reckoned with (six string bass!!!! Yeah, I'm somewhat biased...) and some of the most technically perfect rock guitar technique I have seen in a long time. This makes for an interesting folky balance between an almost lounge-act style rock foundation and the ladies' acoustic and vocal dexterity. However the focus on the incredibly high-pitched vocals of the girls, and the cutesy glockenspiel and guitar, make for a rather samey selection of songs. Standout was their closing cover of 'Sweet Like Chocolate', ironically a suitably saccharine comment on a rather soppy set.

Then there was a raffle – I didn't win anything, but then, I got in for free, so I guess that balances out.
The headline act was, of course, Mr Gray's own band, The Stars Down to Earth. After an evening of vaguely disorganised but compellingly fun acts, their performance was a self-assured reminder of how good songwriting can be. They are proof that six rather disparate looking players can form one truly beautiful sound, with a powerful mixture of astute lyricism, jaunty melodies and a fantastically violent rhythm section. In short their songs are quite literally stars dragged down to earth: moving between the fully formed, glowing, burning, and forcefully brilliant to the subtle, blue-white and twinkly. 'Escape from the Robot Monsters' is the dark and anthemic opener, 'Black Maria' is the show-stopping, rock'n'roll pounder, and 'The Futurist' is a quietly pulsing, spellbinding sound-scape. There are other songs, too, but I won't spoil it for you.

It is increasingly rare to get to see so many acts in one evening for less than £5: let alone to be assured of their presence and ability to make nice noises on stage. With any luck, The Blue Light Initiative will continue to further heights of success, and be able to guarantee you exactly that.

Apologies for the delay

Dear Readers, I am a telemarketer, which is where I have largely been for the past couple of weeks. I hate it and it is soulless - but turns out I'm easily enough amused to find enjoyment almost anywhere. This is presumably against the data protection act or some such thing but I can verify that I have spoken to engineers and buyers from various maintenance companies across the UK who have the following names (some are obviously cool, and others I just found hilarious) :

Alan Moore
Scott Walker
Chris Morris
Jon Stewart
William McGibbon (or M.C. Gibbon as I now think of him)
Sheldon Wilfred
Roger Moore
Dave Lister
Garrick Hickman
Steve Hoult (STEVE HOULT!)
David Goodbun (it gets better~)
Gus Honeybun
Violet Gale
Howard Savoury
Eric Carruthers
Patrick Bateman

Wow.

OK GO - This Too Shall Pass

I have always loved this band, but this video pretty much restores my faith in all humanity*:





*Faith in Humanity is a registered franchise of NicoSoulTM, last broken by the friend who failed to quit smoking.

I told you I was busy

Bombay Bicycle Club

Also trying to write a 5000 ish word story for Friday. Now I'm unemployed it will be much easier.....

The Hundred Greatest Writers

Another link to someone elses' creativity and commendable dedication. This list pretty much made me jizz myself, to put it as bluntly as possible. Whether or not you agree with the order, or feel that there is an Anglo-American bias to the whole thing, or even dare to think they have missed someone out, the descriptions are wry and spot-on, and have turned me on to authors I never thought I would look at again, as well as reminding me of some of my absolute favourites and how happy I am to hear anything of them. And as for the ones I hadn't heard of, well, for shame! I'll see you in a decade or two, I'm setting up a mail-order library account and going to a hut in the woods.

Revvoos

Just a quick coupla links to my latest few reviews, I've been busy!!! And enraged, and frazzled, I'm not sure about my judgement on all of these bad boys but it was great fun reviewing nonetheless....

Communion - The Compilation
The Hush Now - Constellations

Finally, look for the initials NH and I'll be responsible.

I'm posting this up but believe me I will return to it

Why is it often so much more acceptable to express hate than love?
I'm not saying that people will ever appreciate it. But when someone is angry they are often given the room to reveal it. It is almost seen as some kind of right. The idea of "letting off steam" (yes, I know, Arnie) and so on are recognised facets of human action. I admit there is also a huge dichotomy between hatred and anger, and they should not be conflated. However, even at a global level, people are expected to release anger, and often as a healthy reaction not only to them on a personal level, but to almost anything.
As a middle class, buttoned-down kinda human being, I was very rarely subjected to any kind of shouting, arguing or open expressions of rage when I was growing up and certainly I actively avoid it now. But I imagine for many people it is a daily occurence, a cathartic and perhaps harmless one.
Maybe in some ways it is the case that people feel empowered by anger and disempowered by love. Anger provides not only a raw sensation which might allow an expression of brute force, but also a license under which to use it. "I'm hitting the wall because I'm angry", is probably much more recognised than "I'm hitting the wall because I'm in love" (I do the latter.......). There is something more instinctual to anger, or at least something which we are more comfortable with expressing. A shout, a violent motion, an immediate reaction or reprobation seems to come far more swiftly and easily - it is closer to an instinct, and also much more rapidly provoked. Put extremely simply, it could be akin to 'fight or flight'.
However like Nietzsche's ressentiment, anger can also be held and mutated, leading to acts of revenge which are far less forgivable or justified. I mention this for all the people who are thinking "Dude, I don't hit people, I hold a grudge." I can fairly safely say that I don't have the emotional energy to hold grudges, personally, but also don't consider it worth it for anyone else. Love, on the other hand: I can fall in love for a long, long time.
The contrast I would like to make is, I suppose, the difficulties surrounding expressing love. As I grew up in a household without shouting, it was equally devoid of hugs. It took me a long time to discover not only acceptable boundaries, but that people deserve not just to be shown they are loved but that they should bloody well get used to it. I hope the people that I love know this is so. But that is part of the problem.
Let alone when you fall into a romantic love and feel so utterly paralysed by the mixture of emotion and complex hormonal response this person provokes in you simply by walking into a room (does anyone else get a wall of static noise in their ears from the amount of blood that rushes to their head?). Surely this is as potent and physiological the desire to immediately punch someone in the face. But we cannot express it in the same way. Love is just as intrusive as anger, and yet the positive action is somehow a far more dangerous or perverse one. There are laws against certain types of love (and, no I am most definitely not advocating pedophilia, that's a whole other set of issues), or at least powerful social biases on all levels.
I know, obviously, that there are laws against violent actions too, and maybe it is all a matter of degrees. But somehow it is anger that is punished in the afterthought, and love more often held back beforehand.

My male readers may want to skip this

Whilst I have a love-hate relationship with being a woman (as Joey Comeau once said, "If I had breasts I would stand in front of the mirror all day - wishing I were prettier") there are a few formalities which I almost openly appreciate. Recently waking up in the morning has been followed by a feeling of intense and painful despair. Not an easy one to shake off with a bowl of own-brand rice krispies, especially when it means eyeing the washing-up pile growing in our poorly draining sink. To wake up to despair yesterday morning and, upon getting to the bathroom, find I was mentruating, brought on such an intense feeling of relief. That, perhaps, for once, my feelings were actually totally beyond my control. However much the opposite gender hate it, and I would strive to never use my period as a genuine excuse for anything (although I will complain about the hassle), there is genuine and basic biology going on inside every month which results in moods and feelings so intense I have no idea that they are utterly temporary and temporal. But thank fuck they are. And now that bit is over for another month and I am reminded that it was indeed only a matter of time, I feel so much better already. Plus, the sun is shining :)
I'll try and post something more interesting soon. I think all my reviews are up-to-date but I need to rush one through at present!

Feast of the Heart

What do you say about a single that you don't really like that much more than the rest of the album? This, I suppose, although I got a bit bogged down by it. And also having frustratingly managed to, whilst hunting for her relevant website on Google, spot the comment made of her by Tom Waits: "Her music is like going swimming in a lake at night". An image it is impossible to remove oneself from. Still, I thought the flowers-vines analogy went ok.

Jesca Hoop - Feast of the Heart

Other People Who are Funnier than Me

Again, a post all about other things than my own because I'm simply not this inspired...
Here is Jane Thynne's take on John Donne's possible reaction to modern technology:

to her lover, who is too busy to have a meaningful conversation

you never talk,
you never even text
its quite a miracle you manage sex.
we barely email,
not even twitter
is it any wonder i feel bitter
whenever i can bear to contemplate
your utter failure to communicate?
when first we met in realms of cyberspace
like souls in darkness seeking a friendly face
the web we surfed was like a vasty deep
an ethereal paradise where spirits meet
and through our flickering laptops every night
the world contracted to a megabyte.
we then like astronauts
at heaven's borders
believed ourselves new internet explorers
and in those moments
even dared to think
one day we too might make a hyperlink
though first we met on friends reunited
i knew our love would one day be requited
that continents and countries we would roam
and to exotic lands have one day flown.
but all the global roaming you have known
is what you do on business trips by phone
and when i tell you that i feel neglected
i get the feeling you've disconnected
but how can i your true thoughts even guess
if you will never your Outlook Express?
and now my server's down, my link is broken
too many times after the tone i've spoken
and as for all your new technology
your Blackberry will bear no fruit for me
that's why on Facebook, where other souls may mingle
i have now changed my Relationship Status to 'single'

This here, also, is my favourite Flight of the Conchords song at the moment, and a general counter to my current(/perpetual) achey-heart-ness. I can't help laughing at the same line every time - "Who organised all my ex-girlfriends into a choir, and got them to sing?"

Seeing Through Ocean Eyes....

Here's me latest review, in which I caused some debate with my rating:
Owl City - Ocean Eyes
I am that far out of the bubble that I hadn't heard of this guy til I listened to the album and then clocked the MySpace (good lord, HOW many fans?! Who are you?!?) Hence wasn't prepared for the sheer amount of bile most people have towards him.
I simply chose it because I have a weird 'thing' about owls. They're just lovely :)

That aside, ratings are, for me, the nightmare part of the review. I have my struggles with writer's block like anyone else, but then categorising whatever strange metaphors or analogies or whatever I have said to try and sum up others' music into a number out of ten seems almost impossible to me. The editor of the FourOhFive kept telling me off for never putting ratings at the bottom of my reviews. The thing is, I'm okay with writing about something. People can take away what they want from that, and why else would we write it? For instance, the guy who comments that I didn't mention the Postal Service was the one who really got to me because they're the band someone made me a CD of way back when young gentlemen used to make me CDs *Miss Havisham Moment*, and the CD was actually a mix of Death Cab, who I subsequently adore and whose albums got me through a large part of my dissertation, and The Postal Service, who I have since never listened to. They're now on the listen list!!!! I imagine they'd work well as a light side salad to my current many-many-coursed banquet that is getting in to Bob Dylan.
Anyway, yes, I never really got in to Postal Service, so on that comparison fell short. It was akin to getting an essay back and being told about the book I hadn't read which I definitely should have done to write the essay. Possibly demonstrative of my approach to life... but temporality is one of those things I am sadly subservient to. (Yes of course the reviews are trying to replace the hole in my life left by no longer flinging myself into essay writing as an endless attempt to receive recognition and approval....)
I'M DIGRESSING.
I like reviewing music a lot but if all people can do is argue about the ratings I'm sorely disappointed. Owl City is pretty middle-of-the-road pop, but for that week proved an incredible tonic to the dour mood I was in. The singles are constantly on the majority of radio stations and are holding up well in the face of it: I'm not defending mass opine but the playability of the record, which for me is generally what counts. So I gave it a six out of ten because the majority of the album, once you had passed the three listens which I usually allow myself to get a handle on the music, makes your ears feel like they are bleeding syrup as your mind turns to candyfloss. Except that some tracks make me feel really, really good instead. Perhaps that was my main mis-step: I wrote the review in a fairly objective tone, knowing the audience of that website, but when it came to that bloody '... out of ten', my own emotional involvement stepped in and said 'This guy is terrible, but he actually really cheered you up.' Presumbly because he does sound like Death Cab and other bands whose twee-ness is something I quietly appreciate at the right moments.
Equally, I am gratified that those that have commented seem to have listened to the music before dismissing it, but would have wanted more of a response to my actual writing. I suppose the lack of argument with the review itself speaks of a general consensus, and the strong response to the rating thus proves that... I'm really bad at equating numbers with reality? It's been a learning curve at least, I don't think any of my reviews have provoked comment before. I might just start fucking with people to engender more debate.
And Owl Eyes was a strangely welcome counter to the huge amount of 'coolness' I am constantly swimming in living here in Brighton. I would not replace a single one of my friends for all of the Nazi gold in Switzerland, but sometimes I think I'll never be able to keep up with whether I'm hearing the Decemberists' version or the Joanna Newsom version, whether it's noise music as a statement or just plain bad, how many of Tom Waits' albums I know, how many Radiohead album covers I recognise, how many Leonard Cohen lyrics I remember........
Fuck it all, let's put the Dum Dums on really, really loudly.

Bill Plympton

Haven't been overly creative lately so I'm re-discovering the things that amuse me in the hopes they amuse you too.

For instance, the glorious cartoonist Bill Plympton, whose work is frustratingly sparse due to his labour-intensive creative process, and also relatively unknown in the UK. The examples available on YouTube sadly mainly involve a few short adverts he created, but marketing spiel aside, there's something truly fascinating, and definitely hilarious, about his animation techniques. Long disappeared is the amazing 'Your Face' which served to launch his career, a haunting music video showing a man's head and shoulders distorting constantly as he sang the song, and 'Push Comes to Shove', another exercise in facial squishiness, as the comment next to this particular video describes:

And here's a more recent example of a short toon, from a set of works known as the 'Dog Series':

He did make quite a few full-length films which I intend to find out about......
All is far from lost really. There's a plethora of stuff on his website, including an actual biography (hence me not bothering here - I would only cut-and-paste the damn thing). Finally, and holy cow how I love the internet, one can watch gorgeous timelapse images of him drawing his most recent project, the 2008 release Idiots and Angels:
Woah that's awesome.
Yes, that's right, he does it all himself, as he did for previous feature length, Hair High. Darker, weirder, and far less pretentious than Tim Burton... yay Bill.

Yeah fine I give in

It has long been an issue of contention as to whether smoking in the media directly affects whether people grow up to become smokers, and as articles from both 1993 and 2009 show, the lines of argument involved haven't really changed:

BBC article

Some other article

In all seriousness, the issue of portrayal of smoking in films and television is an insane one. Films such as Thank You For Smoking pointedly refuse to have anyone smoke onscreen. However go any earlier than the late 90s and every lead role is defined by their ability to casually hold a cancer stick. But I will do some wild dismissal in the form of 'kids are influenced by anything and everything, as are most adults, and the television and film industries are obviously central to this, especially when they are the increasingly preferred form of recreation to spending time with your family.'

I choose to level cynicism instead at the desire to be cool, which smoking seems to have become attached to. No one can deny the flawless effervescence of such people:

Susan Sontag

Rita Hayworth as Gilda

But you can definitely argue that their qualities of beauty, intelligence, charisma, and so on, definitely don't stem from smoking. Smoking is something they get away with because of or in spite of, their beauty, intelligence, etc etc. It could be more pertinent to ask how many bad guys smoke in films, and if this adds to their role as the vice of the piece. Does the good guy smoke if the bad guy does? Does the bad guy always smoke cigars? Scrolling through some articles right now, the surveys taken on the subject revealed that it doesn't matter who is shown smoking: as long as they are smoking, teens and yoofs are influenced.
I guess smoking is cool, after all.

Not an orginal post, but I found this incredibly moving.

This video shows the winner of 2009's " Ukraine 's Got Talent", Kseniya Simonova, 24, drawing a series of pictures on an illuminated sand table showing how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during World War II. Her talent, which admittedly is a strange... one, is mesmeric to watch.

The images, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about $75,000.

She begins by creating a scene showing a couple sitting holding hands on a bench under a starry sky, but then warplanes appear and the happy scene is obliterated.

It is replaced by a woman's face crying, but then a baby arrives and the woman smiles again. Once again war returns and Miss Simonova throws the sand into chaos from which a young woman's face appears.

She quickly becomes an old widow, her face wrinkled and sad, before the image turns into a monument to an Unknown Soldier.

This outdoor scene becomes framed by a window as if the viewer is looking out on the monument from within a house.

In the final scene, a mother and child appear inside and a man standing outside, with his hands pressed against the glass, saying goodbye...

The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine, resulted in one in four of the population being killed with eight to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.



An art critic said:
"I find it difficult enough to create art using paper and pencils or paintbrushes, but using sand and fingers is beyond me. The art, especially when the war is used as the subject matter, even brings some audience members to tears. And there's surely no bigger compliment."

Sand Drawings

We Are The Ocean

Another Lovely Review


and more stuff later.......

Obssession, etc

R.I.P J D Salinger from Friday. At the age of 91, no less. Well done sir.

I wasn't actually aware he was still alive: when an author like that goes into reclusive hiding, most sensitive literature fans get the hint. (Alright, so I wanted to stalk him, go and bang on his door, and then cry about the broken record and how I always judge people by how they clip their fingernails, but I've not yet made it to America.) It was strange to suddenly be reminded of him, however, as he had been preying on my mind anyway. I was reading The Collector, by John Fowles, which very much has the same vibe as Catcher does, not simply the lonely male protagonist but the tone of skewed and warped perceptions, and a deep oppressive feeling stemming both from the situations of the characters and their own trapped, introspective mindsets.

Ironically the main character in The Collector is compared to Holden Caulfield by his captive, and is convinced, by her, to read the book, although he is unimpressed. Book within a book, it's all very clever. Could be seen to be labouring the point somewhat considering I had drawn those conclusions anyway, but it's part of the beauty of the story that the increasingly sociopathic captor of a young woman entirely fails to see how he could be similar to this other powerful example of alienation.

Also interestingly, the entire novel is set in Lewes, so I may well be grabbing my bike by the handlebars and my Ordnance Survey map by the plastic outer bit, and having a scour of the countryside. If I think I find the cottage I'll GoogleMap it up here.

There's Something Special Going On

If you're familiar with Simone Weil (and I wasn't til last week) then she is most definitely worth a look. Although I disagree with a lot of her theological directions (as an atheistic type, I'm not keen on needing to have spiritual nourishment of a particular sort to necessarily be kept away from base desires, but I will elucidate another time).
I do however feel profoundly strongly over a lot of what she says about the human condition, or human nature, I'll be discussing it on Monday with some friends so hopefully can settle on the correct phrase for it. What we are and how we feel.

This is something she said about love, and I find it terrifyingly true of how I feel when I love someone:
"Love on the part of someone who is unhappy is to be filled with joy by the mere knowledge that his beloved is happy without sharing in this happiness or even wishing to do so."
The ability to feel happy when knowing that those you love are happy... I think that's one of the most important things in life.

Updatey

So, my new years resolutions.

Well, I dont think I'm my mother, so far so good. I'll never really be able to tell, I suppose, unless my brother points it out to me when we're both in our 50s. But I don't think I'm on the road to have kids. Thus far in my life the people I have fallen most in love with have shared my views on that subject, so I imagine if I ever did 'settle down' with anybody, kids would be the last thing on the agenda. That way, at least if I did become my mother I'd only be inflicting it on my hapless partner.

Managing my diabetes is actually going incredibly well, which is pleasing. I'm still not on track all the time - my jobs really take it out of me so if I'm not careful I start wanting sugar highs all the time. But there have definitely been days where avoiding sweet things has meant I don't want them. That sounds a bit sketchy, but it's only been a few weeks that I've really been working on it. I'm definitely finding out what I eat that can have the amount of sugar in it halved, and without those sharing it with me complaining either. That reminds me, last week I made a rather good blackberry and apple pie. I haven't heard back from one of the recipients of a slice, but considering the rapidity at which I saw the rest of it consumed by Tom, I think it was a winner. It wasn't just because he's Northern and likes pie, at least. I'm getting very good at pastry, soon I will venture into more elaborate stuff methinks. I'm also experimenting with the bags of frozen berries you can get from supermarkets - great for smoothies, a nice nutritious and slow-burning source of deliciousness, if only we had a blender that worked...

Finally, toning down the crazy. Well, it's all going onto this here blog instead, by my estimation. I can't necessarily say that, just under a month into this year, I've managed to be that well-behaved. But I'm showing serious signs of looking after my own well-being much more, not just physically but emotionally. I know I can torture myself over silly things but I'm learning how to a) harness the silly into some nice writing and b) get advice from other people about why I'm not wrong in the majority of my behaviour.

Essentially, I'm hiding my heart, and hoping that the right person comes looking. And that's difficult for me, because there is very rarely a lack of someone in my life that I would readily show my emotions to. This time, I am empowering myself to have the freedom to move slowly. And it's funny, but it allows you a lot more hope. Either something happens because you slowly build on these wonderful feelings, or something doesn't happen because those wonderful feelings build into a friendship. I genuinely have never taken this tack before. Scary but overwhelmingly exciting.

Haiti

I got a bit of teasing/sarcastic admonition recently for over-excitedly announcing the return of Puppy-Cam when Haiti was a far more pertinent and important piece of news. I don't have a didactic angle here and I'm not going to comment on any particular aspect of the tragedy, but I guess I want to mention it because, well, it's happening and no matter the levity of everything else I talk about, it's at the forefront of many many people's minds at the moment.

Tomorrow I'm going to submit a story for this project:
100 Stories for Haiti

Although I presume that the calibur of material will mean mine probably won't be selected, in which case I'll post it up here. Also I wish I had known about it earlier, to recommend to other writers out there! But I'll also post up a link when the book becomes available, so please think about buying it.

Also go here to donate to the Haiti Earthquake Children's Appeal.
We're all thinking of you.

Enter The Room

I have a few things to write up so may be able to fit in more than one post today. But first things first.

If you haven't seen the emotional, visual and lyrical masterwerk that is Tommy Wiseau's The Room, get on it right now. Plot is immaterial (/non-existent), as instead the story overridingly resonates with the agony of the Hamlet-like Johnny, played by Wiseau, and his Beckett-esque struggle with his cruel fiance Lisa, all set in the claustrophobic atmosphere of their small but luxurious apartment (I would say the claustrophobia is mainly due to the limited budget, resulting in the tiniest sets you've ever seen). Well, anyway, I won't spoil any potential viewers the mind-altering experience of watching it, but I have compiled some guidelines, based on rigorously close watching, studying, and expansion of the Tommy Wiseau Techinque, in order that we might grapple with the genius and possibly bring his irreproachable methodology into our own work, stilted and flawed though we are in comparison. Hopefully as I continue my explorations more will emerge. I think I could get a pretty comprehensive list out of it.
Edit: While researching this post I found another with further excellent commentary - When Good Robots Go Bad

Tommy Wiseau's Guide to Writing, Producing, Directing, and Starring in a Film.

• So that your audience will relate to them easily, give your main characters names that are short, simple and familiar: Johnny, Mark, Lisa ... Denny.

• Never break the fourth wall by looking towards the camera. If you are particularly struggling with this, the best technique is to never fully open your eyes.

• Why try and put into words what can be expressed magnificently through a more subtle expression of feeling, such as a walrus-like croon or some drawn out, throaty moaning?

• Sex scenes are necessary but can be arduous and embarrassing for ingenues and younger actors. Feel free to subtly recycle footage so that excess shooting is not needed.
  

• It's important to tackle serious issues within your script, such as drugs and cancer. To encourage the audience to autonomously consider these difficult topics long after the film is over, it also helps to never provide catharsis or mention them again.

• Slow jam.
  

YES YES YES YES

Video chat rooms at Ustream

Goodness Knows

My friend introduced me to the wonderful website spEak You're bRanes, which goes some way as an antidote to the Daily Mail (and of course The Guardian itself). It includes the wonderful comment generator:
The Twat-o-Tron

Also this weeks' philosophical debate is: Does music have an extraneous quality which transcends all other art forms? I think yes but I'm going to try and pursue other people's opinions throughout the week.

It's the little things

Oh thank the lord someone else wrote this, because now it doesn't look like I'm complaining:
That super cute quirky girl from that movie
Seriously, if I have to deal with one more of these characters I'm going to start shooting girls who wear knee-high socks and any kind of faintly retro headgear on sight. I get tired enough of the debate surrounding the word 'cool' without wondering if I have to be 'quirky' too. She is as much of a pain in the arse as the rest of us, just aloof to boot.

In other news, I have found, well, either further evidence of how mal-adjusted I am, or a wonderful way to deal with rejection. I have to point out, this is where it all gets a tad personal, but only insofar as I wonder if anyone (who isn't me and the friend who I came up with this alongside) would find it at all funny. In essence, another friend of mine (and I would like to stress, we are still friends) recently explained that we would never become an item because I "just hadn't bowled him over". After a few distraught discussions with others it became apparent to me that honesty was not entirely the best policy at that moment, and this particular phrasing was an understandable onslaught to my self-esteem. Don't worry though, because after I foolishly and tearfully watched Breakfast at Tiffany's alone (hence the collision of a hatred of magical man-magnet quirky girls and romantic, happy endings), it gave birth to:

THE "*NAME DELETED TO THINLY MAINTAIN DIPLOMACY* RUINS FILMS" GAME

"Where will I go? What will I do?"
"Frankly my dear, you just haven't bowled me over."

Skyline of city explodes
"Martha... you just haven't bowled me over."
Where is My Mind starts playing

and the current favourite:
"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain... They just didn't bowl me over"

Maybe I'm bitter - but I did find it hilarious.

Light to Write

I'm so excited about this, I think it's an incredibly brilliant idea:

Coachwerks Space for Writing

I've been doing a lot of writing lately but I'm unsure if it's publishable. Some edited phrases might pop up now and again. I am, as may have become clear over the past few days, exploring matters of the heart.
In other news, I've been making loads of soups. Had a bash at leek and potato last week and did carrot and coriander yesterday, which was rapidly devoured by me and two friends. Still, feeding three people on about £2 worth of veg, not bad eh? Not sure what next week's soup will be: I'm eschewing the baking as it's too expensive at present. At least, I'm waiting for someone's birthday til I bake again.

Also, hey, it's my first feature!!!!
Star Wars Bands

Hopeful New Year

I should not be allowed to blog whilst in such a maudlin mood. And also, my goodness, 2010 is flying by already. I'm going to try and do a minimum of one entry a week, depending what I get up to.

Anyway, here is some more cheerful stuff, hooray!
I was loaned (lent? leaned?) a copy of By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept. I haven't been crashed into the earth by a book in such a long time. It's one of the most stunning things I've ever read and I'm beyond greatful to the person who lent it to me. (You're a hero, Tom!) That said, I'd recommend it to anybody with any kind of heart or mind. The complete raw rendition of a love affair, a love affair that never truly happened, floods effortlessly between the metaphysical agony of the woman's feelings and the physical reality she is trapped in, first watching the woman who is actually married to her lover, remembering the times when she and her lover were together, enduring the trials of going home and the court case for her adultery, and finally living, alone, shamed and pregnant, in a kind of exile from her love. If you've read and enjoyed (you better had) The Scarlet Letter then this is going to be for you.
The unedurable ecstacy of being in love, the despair and the joy, the ridiculous struggle between the reality of living and the desire to sink wholly into a void of emotion: it's all a bit wow. I won't try to equal the language here, because I've never read such a powerful encompassing of the way the heart can take over the entire world. Thoughts and impulses and feelings I didn't think could be expressed with the vulgarity of words on a page and she bloody did it. I wouldn't say I've loved that way, but I recognise the beginnings of it in my own experience, and it has value far beyond what personal knowledge you may have locked in your head. I implore you, read this book.

Ignoring the New Year

It's amazing how evocative scent is. I used a shower gel that an ex had given me way back in the first year of uni. It was an incredibly gorgeous, expensive one, so I used it sparingly, and then for a long while stopped using it because I was worried about what that scent would do to me again. This was, of course, much much time after a long, slow, painful breakup.

And I actually found the same brand in an outlet shop for ridiculously cheap the other day and got some more, and the moisturiser as well. And I dont know, I shouldn't have used it the day I did. I was sick with fear anyway. Trying to know what to do with my heart. Its little broken pieces. I cant seem to protect it, I am compulsively unable to give myself the distance it so badly needs. The plaster cast would be built of a wall between a friend and me. It would hurt so much more, and so much less, at once.
And I couldn't help thinking if I partly couldn't sleep because that moisturiser, that smell, was the smell on my skin in my first year of uni when i was with Jonny, regret of my entire life. Half-forgotten and irrelevant and still somehow, a Voldemort-like presence. I hate any one of my friends who mentions him, but skirts him, in that hedgey way as if I'm still not over it. Yet I can feel the confusion if I say his name, divulge a memory. The feeling of 'If you've moved on, Nicole, why are you bringing him up?' Well, he was heavily involved in two years of my life. It would be unhealthy never to talk about him, despite the lack of influence he had over who I am and what I really am, despite the years I spent doing everything romantic or fun with other people because he was so absent.
I cant deny, he's the reason behind so much deep pain that has yet to go away. The reason I'm full of mistrust, the reason I think that whenever someone seems at all distant towards me I fall into despair/freak out.
So was it the scent, or is it the knowledge that the deeper wounds he gave me are still hurting today through the influence of other people?