alexsarll: (Default)
I didn't do that 'what are people's misconceptions about me' meme a couple of weeks back, because for the most part: I'm not going to know them; or correcting them would make me sound like a tool; or correcting them would be strategically mistaken. But, I imagine it might surprise people that 'til [livejournal.com profile] xandratheblue showed me a couple last night, I'd never seen an episode of The Twilight Zone. 'Treehouse of Horror' and other pastiches, sure, plus more 2000AD Future Shocks than I care to number. Even a couple of episodes of the godawful revival of the rip-off Outer Limits (yeah, you may control the horizontal and the vertical - but I control the Off switch, suckers). I was on to 'The Eye of the Beholder''s twist within five minutes - because I've grown up with all those twist endings The Twilight Zone helped inspire - but it was still brilliantly executed, for the most part; the budget must have been tiny but the script and the camerawork meant that didn't matter. Just a shame they let in touches of 1984 melodrama when they could have kept the world looking exactly like USA 1960 except for that one little detail. But the McCarthyite paranoia of 'The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street' was simply perfect. Must investigate further, so thank heavens for the internet, eh?

Lots of spiders about this Autumn, apparently. "Just leave them alone and they will leave you alone", says John Partridge of the British Arachnological Society. So, if I climb through a stranger's window and then run around their house, or simply lurk in a corner looking sinister, I am leaving that person alone, am I?

Into Central on Wednesday, where under louring skies I realise this is my first time out since The London Paper folded, so as people trudge past me with their freesheets, they're all reading the same one. The one which, of the two rags (both fairly poor, obviously) takes the markedly more negative approach. And even if the cheerier one had triumphed, that uniformity would have felt like a tiny tick forward on the Doomsday Clock ([livejournal.com profile] exliontamer suggests that anything can seem apocalyptic if the headphones soundtrack it that way, but I was only listening to the new Madness). I'm headed for Pure Groove, allegedly a record shop but in fact a cafe/bar which also sells a bit of music - like so many artists, they've clearly realised that the sale of physical copies of music is not where the money lies anymore. The set-up is fairly Nathan Barley, especially the support act (transvestite riot grrrl would have been a brilliant idea, 15 years ago), but I'm there for Gyratory System who have no apparent connection to all this - or indeed, to any other context of which I'm aware. I don't know whether nobody else makes stuff like this, or whether it's just that I don't hear it, but it's an utterly new sound to me. The first track is the best bits of Spirtualized without Jason Pierce whinging over the top; the second sounds like some funky seventies film themes remixed without the kitschiness that usually entails; the third mixes bits of both and then somehow sounds vaguely Egyptian too. Great stuff.

One side effect of the banking crisis, and the banks' refusal to mend their ways even when underpinned by our money, and the government's refusal to make them, is that now when you get a mail like this:
Dear Friend

I am Garry Loopy,Manager Bank of scotland.A muitinational company opted an overdraft from our bank and was over invoiced with six million pounds so i wish to transfer the funds to your account for both of us.
write me via: garyc1908@live.com. for details

Best regrad.
gary loopy

...it no longer seems that implausible that the muppet running a major bank might a) have English of that standard and b) regard this as sound banking practice.
alexsarll: (marshal)
"If we want our kids and our friends' kids to have somewhere to live that's of a decent standard" then the answer has nothing to do with building more houses, on the green belt or otherwhere. It has to do with curbing the buy-to-let explosion. Apart from anything else, unless there's a change in the law and the tax breaks then all those new homes are just going to be bought up by investors like the extant ones are. So all you'll accomplish is destroying what little open space remains on this overbuilt island and making the rich richer. And meanwhile, a senior cop wants to ban having a drink in the park of a summer afternoon as a strike against teen disorder - having apparently failed to notice that there already exist laws against the disorderly acts themselves. So, given a certain element of society is breaking the current laws with no fear of the consequences, they'll do likewise with this one - while the people who aren't currently causing anyone a problem, in part because of an ingrained reluctance to break the law, will be denied yet another of life's simple pleasures. I mean, seriously, how can anyone fail to spot these jaw-crumblingly obvious correspondences? Are they all really that stupid?
...And this is why I've not been updating a great deal lately. When I'm reasonably content, I see no particular angle from which I could write much more than "I watched Bad Boys. Stuff blew up. It was fun" or "I went to the park and drank some pink wine. This made me happy". And when I'm not in a good mood...well, OK, sometimes it's in-between. Sometimes I have vague musings on a topic of possible interest. But then I check myself and ask, am I actually about to say anything new, or would it just be posting for the sake of posting? Sure, pretty much any half-formed thought which manages to survive its first five seconds in my brain will be of more intellectual merit than, oooh, 95% of the stuff posted to the Guardian blogs, but that is not in itself a sufficient qualification for existence. But beyond the musings comes the rage, and the internet is not exactly short of splenetic rants either, is it? If I were being paid to do a weekly column on What Really Grinds My Gears, sorted. Hell, I wouldn't find a daily one too taxing either. Or even hourly so long as I could file in advance...but I'm not. I'm on my own time. And the sheer amount of stuff that pisses me off is beginning to alarm me. I mean, yes, I know I've said in the past that I'm hoping to muster enough pure hate that I can channel it as beams of destructive energy, but when you think about it, running omega beams off an internal power source never did Darkseid much good, did it? And that line in BBC4's Cantor documentary where the shrink noted that schizophrenic breakdown was often preceded by "looking too hard at the world...a rigidity of perceptual stance" felt far too close to home. So I've once more become a little captivated by that Franz Ferdinand line from 'Matinee', where he's on about all the things he hates and "you smile, mention something that you'd like, how you'd have a happy life if you did the things you like". Lately there was this spider on the outside of my kitchen window and I thought, he's still, maybe if I just look at the web instead of the spider? It's a lovely pattern, a startling feat of construction, almost mandala-like. And it worked, for a little while. But then last night, I come in and he's moving - the way they move being what gets me with spiders, it's like the sound of metal on metal, goes right through me. But I try to calm it down, manage. Then back in again later - and now he's eating, giving me the full Shelob revulsion/terror/killer instinct reaction, and there are limits, and I have a decent sized book in my hand. If I am to be redeemed, it will not be by that road.

Against which...well, the My Life Story B-sides and rarities album finally arrived. As with Suede's Sci-Fi Lullabies, it is marred by being incomplete, and incomplete in odd ways - it includes plenty of the later ones nobody was much bothered about, utterly superfluous demos, and far too many takes on bloody 'Emerald Green', while omitting (among others) the marvellous 'Sir Richard Steele'. And even the good tracks...they never quite captured their magic on tape, did My Life Story. The CDs were always reminders of the live show, because live they were magic. Literally, and yes I do know what that word means - I saw them transform Derby's dingy square into a plaza on Roxyworld.
See? Even when I'm trying to be happy, it goes this way. For the moment, at least - over and out.

December 2017

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