This Place...
... is gonna get torn down and rebuilt bigger, better, and, er, without my name all over it. Privacy, innit?
When I get a minute.
No More Gruts
I've just found out that Ivor Cutler died of a heart attack on Friday, and I'm greatly saddened. Very few "celebrity" deaths have ever really affected me, even if I was a fan of the deceased. John Peel is the only one that I can think of, and now he's joined by Ivor Cutler, which I think he would appreciate.
The Guardian's obituary is here.
A St. Valentine's Day Massacre
R and I had a fairly traditional Valentine's day this year. We exchanged cards, had a nice meal, then went to see a 1970's Anglo-Italian B-Horror flick. As you do.
The plot of The Night Evelyn Came Out Of The Grave is as convoluted as the title, and centers around one "Lord" Alan Cunningham. He's a millionaire playboy type character - sort of a cross between a less-charismatic Lord Summerisle and Bruce Wayne, except where Bruce has a batcave Alan has a dungeon, and where Bruce fights crime, Alan likes to pick up red-headed prostitutes, take them back to his castle, and murder them while babbling about his late wife Evelyn. Nobody seems to bothered by this - once in a while his groundskeeper asks him for money to keep quiet, but even Alan's psychiatrist seems to think that it's all just a phase, and recommends that getting plenty of rest and marrying a nice girl might be just the cure for his inconvenient habit.
After a pointless seance scene featuring a mad old woman and the first appearance of Alan's wheelchair-bound-but-kinda-foxy "aunt" Agatha during which the ghost of Evelyn pops up for a moment and causes some fainting, Alan goes out to a party, picks up the first large-breasted dolly-bird he meets, and asks her to marry him. Of course, no sooner is she set up in the ancestral home than weird things start happening, odd sightings of a red-haired woman, people turn up dead, and, without wishing to spoil it for you, twist after twist after twist, accompanied by a fantastically cheesy jazz soundtrack.
All good dirty fun, then, bursting at the seams with pointless gore, tits, terrible acting and inappropriate crash-zooms. Don't go out of your way to see it, though, and do NOT see it sober.
Cold
The flat is cold, the office is cold, and the world outside... well... it's pretty damn cold just now.
Still no snow, however. That little weather applet on my sidebar lies through its teeth. It's laughing at me, I can hear it.
Not much happening this week, until the weekend when we're off for some boozing in the 'Burgh for a change.
Tons of new games about to come out that I'd like. "Everyone Loves Katamari Damacy", "Shadow of the Collossus", and it's re-released prequel "Ico" are all looking rather tempting. I wish things didn't cost money.
Yesterday was depressionville, but I'm a bit more "up" today, having cracked an annoying work problem that's been bugging me for ages. I might even write a boring techie post about it, in the hope that it might help someone with the same problem avoid the week of staring at the screen and sobbing "why? why?" accompanied by hours of fruitless Googling for an answer that I've just endured.
The most annoying thing in the world? People who post a problem on a technical message board - the exact same problem that you have - then, when nobody can come up with the solution, ends the thread with "it's ok - I fixed it myself" without actually saying how. So many times in the past week I've had the hope of an answer dangled in front of my face upon discovering a kindred soul who has found himself in the same boat, only to have it whisked away again when the fucker cracks it and decides that the rest of the world does not deserve the benefit of his genius. Grr.
Memes
Seems like everyone's doing that "Four Things" meme. I find it odd that it should have spread so far, it being virtually identical to a million predecessors who were the blogger's bread-and-butter a few years ago but which now, having fallen out of fashion, only thrive on teenage livejournals and the like. Presumably it's the "tagging" aspect. Despite protests along the lines of "I only write it for myself - I don't care if anyone reads it," I expect I'm not alone in jumping on the tiny morsel of self-esteem offered by the knowledge that someone actually comes to my blog and reads it for reasons other than to use it as a forum for snide comments. Iand - we salute you. Bandwagon ahoy!
Four jobs that I’ve had
- Programmer - James Howden Engineering (About 6 months)
- "Senior" Software Developer - Current employer (About 9 years)
- Lazy college/university student (About 4)
- Sulky teenager (1988-present)
Four movies I can watch over and over
Four places I have lived
- Renfrew
- Pollokshields, Glasgow
- Shawlands, Glasgow
- Gorbals, Glasgow
Four TV shows I like to watch
- Futurama
- The League of Gentlemen
- Doctor Who
- Six Feet Under
Four foods that I like
- Curry
- Mozzarella Chicken
- Jaffa cakes
- R's chili
Four websites I visit daily
Four things I want to do before I die
- See the northern lights
- Visit Iceland
- Write a novel
- Learn to make a really good curry
Four places I would rather be right now
- In bed
- Up a mountain
- On the moon
- Just about anywhere
Four people I’m tagging
... Though this thing's been doing the rounds so long that it's entirely possible that some of them have already done it.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Mnnng
Didn't get much sleep last night. Someone's overflow pipe pishing out water all night, landing just outside our bedroom window. Didn't actually go to bed until later than I should have anyway. Finally posted a review of "Screaming Masterpiece" on Diskant, but I can't say I'm all that happy with it. All dancing about architecture, innit? Words cannot adequately communicate the genius of The Superbowl Is Gay, for example. Suffice to say, I think I've found my new favourite band.*
* - Actually, further investigation suggests that he might be a creation of MTV, which kinda sours it a tad.
Fug
It's been an odd sort of week; much of it dominated by a sort of grey, depressive fug that's slowly been enveloping my head since before Christmas. Post-holiday, back-to-work blues are part of it, but so are long, dark winter nights, lack of exercise, and a Yuletide diet that's consisted mainly of chocolate. I finally got back to the gym after an absence of over two months, on Thursday, and left feeling far better about the world. I fear becoming an exercise bore. One of those annoying people who bang on and on about how great it is and that a good run is the cure for all ills, but coming out of the gym, flushed and feeling good about myself, I do get an air of smug self-satisfaction, and have to watch for excessive preachiness. "Not feeling good, eh? A trip to the gym will sort you out."
This attitude normally preceeds an absence of any kind of exercise for a couple of months before the whole cycle starts anew.
I went to see the excellent documentary about Icelandic music Screaming Masterpiece the other week, fully intending to write a thing for Diskant about it, but I've somehow misplaced my imagination and feel like I don't have anything interesting to say about anything. Regular* readers of this blog will doubtless point out that they could have told me that years ago, of course.
Games are always good for giving you a false sense of achievement to make up for having stared numbly at an empty computer screen for an hour, and this weekend I've been rediscovering the joys of GTA:San Andreas, which I had put aside after getting stuck on a particularly frustrating mission. Such is the nature of these things, I nailed it on my first attempt the other night, unlocking big, exciting chunks of the game.
As usual, this weekend is melting like a snowman, and despite my best efforts I'm know I'm going to be left with just a puddle and a carrot. Or something. See, I told you my imagination was knackered. Anyway, off out to toddle around the South Side, for the sake of some fresh air and a chance to play with me new camera. Bought with birthday money, and used over Hogmanay, but otherwise largely neglected.
* Or irregular readers. Or whoever got here by Googling for "does john cusack do the orange wednesdays cinema advert" The answer being "no, of course he bloody doesn't". Unless your definition of "do" is different from mine. What goes on behind closed doors in the Cusak household is information I am not privy to.
Fishes
A miserable bugger I may be, but I do like some things. And I like liking things. If something is described as an "acquired taste", then I'm usually keen to at least try to acquire it. I mean, wouldn't it be ace to like everything? You'd just spend all day in a state of bliss with a big grin on your face. ("What's that? You want me to give you my wallet or you'll stab me? Great! I just love being mugged!")
With this in mind I've been trying to enjoy shellfish. I've always been ok with prawns, so long as they were peeled for me, but for a long time I was squeamish about pulling off their heads and legs. It's the traditional meat-eater's hypocrisy, isn't it? You don't mind scoffing something that was once alive so long as there's no evidence of that life, and you can convince yourself that bacon is actually a vegetable. Anyway, I've gotten over that one, thanks to the fact that prawns are just so darned tasty, and personal gratification can beat conscience every time.
Next stop, then: mussels. Mmm, they're tasty, but they do have a disagreeably squishy texture and look a bit a like ladies naughty bits. We made paella the other night, though, and they're all the better when hiding under a mound of rice so you can't actually see them.
Cannot stand oysters though. Sharon Osbourne (her again) summed up my feelings on them when she was on Gordon Ramsey's programme the other week: "They smell like old fanny."
Cue obligatory "how do you know" comments...
Observant readers may claim the immediate failure of Resolution #3, but we never said we were going full veggie. For now, we're allowing ourselves seafood, making us, technically, "Pescetarian", or, you may argue, "half-assed".
Worry
Back, after a good long Christmas break, having saved plenty of holidays last year, and even started eating into those for 2006. Got myself irrationally worked up and anxious over coming back, for some reason, imagining all sorts of disaster awaiting me. Obviously, there was no such horror, but it is only lunchtime. Perhaps I shouldn't tempt fate.
I really am a grand-master at expecting the worst out of any situation. It's similar to the miserablist's favorite tactic of "not expecting anything so that you're not disappointed", though we all know that anyone who claims this is, in fact, a total liar, and is going to be disappointed anyway. As R continually reminds me, worrying achieves nothing, but I keep fretting anyway. It's involuntary. A reflex action rather than a conscious decision. Controllable if you concentrate, but which, left unchecked, will run rampant if left alone.
Resolutions
I'm not normally one for making new year's resolutions. I'm of the opinion that if you're going to change something in your life, you should just go ahead and do it. If you have to wait for a particular day, you're just looking for ways to procrastinate and probably aren't that serious about it.
But I'm also of the opinion that you should try anything once (except go to a Coldplay gig), so this year I'm setting myself a few, if for no other reason than to give myself something to write about in a years time. Probably under the heading "Resolutions I didn't keep this year."
1. Excercise more Undoubtably the most popular new year's resolution there is. I was actually doing ok for a while there, going to the gym at least a couple of times a week, but then Christmas got in the way and now I'm feeling even more fat and unfit than before.
Chances of success: Not bad. If I can keep my momentum up, I should do ok, and quitting the usual place and joining the one up the road will help by adding a touch of novelty, at least at first.
2. Write more Not just in here, but generally. I need to do more stuff for Diskant before they get sick of giving me CDs that never get reviewed, and I'd like to do some more creative writing as well.
Chances of success: Pretty rubbish. More reviews are possible, but as for other writing, I keep trying and failing.
3. Stop eating meat Again, it's a momentum thing. I managed before for a (very) short time, and it wasn't too bad until I fell off the wagon.
Chances of success: Low, but it's worth a shot.
4. Read more books See below.
Chances of success: It's been a very literary holiday season, with lots of paper-based Christmas and birthday presents, so quite good I'd say.
5. Take my name off this blog Yeah, well, I had registered the domain name in a fit of vanity and needed something to put under it, but do I really want to be that easy to find? I've been meaning to do it for ages, and then I decided to stop blogging, then I started again, blah-di-blah. It's due a less stark redesign as well.
Chances of success: Excellent, if I know what's good for me, which I rarely do.