Monday 4 May 2009
Today looks like rain. This is what bank holidays are all about.
I wake up just after 6.30, which I sense by the end of the day, will ultimately equate to mistake.
Another morning another Mumblecore movie. Today’s selection is Team Picture. Once again I feel I am watching certain friends on the screen in more ways than one. As ever there is little in the way of narrative and the characters held within truly are pathetic which really gives/causes concern for this (our?) generation as it is portrayed as a collection of simpering and hopeless wimps.
Perhaps I am selling these movies too short too soon. Quite possibly this is a fair reflection of how people feel these days, the re-emergence of slackers only more depressed and disillusioned than ever. Not once in these movies is there ever an indication of some kind of work ethic. Did part of Generation X sell out and get rich while the following band of brothers gave work a go only to discover no amount of wealth or riches on the other side of their efforts. The people in these movies are musicians and writers, people that don’t want to work and seem to be getting away without it. They never find love or if they do it is only complicated due to a sense of being overly needy and vacuous in relationship to the apple of their eye. In a way these badly acted movies are dry to the point that the participants can often resemble zombies which is quite possibly where certain elements of modern society may be headed as we sleepwalk through our lives. It should also be considered that these movies are from America and it is a place so vast and textured that it is often/usually the final place to suffer from the organic woes that the rest of the world seems to encounter first.
Afterwards I return to the real world and real TV and I cannot believe that Jeremy Kyle is on. I remember when the TV companies/stations used to make an effort on bank holidays, showing special shows and exciting movies. Rubbish.
Eventually I manage to start writing. At the moment Gestures feels very much plonked on the backburner as I concentrate on this drivel and attempts at music/record reviews with view to just keep writing, avoid writers block (a war I feel I am losing) and eventually hit a strong stride/grove and nail the remainder of that now ghastly book.
After a genuine spurt of energy and production I finally get around to watching the Peter Cook and Dudley Moore version of The Hound Of The Baskervilles. It has some laughs but is generally a mess of a movie with old jokes and skits crowbarred into a very flimsy script/plot. It is perhaps not a good sign when the biggest laugh to come from the movie is Denholm Elliotts’ tiny hound pissing all over Dudley Moore and the other highlight being a young Patricia Hodge playing a prostitute.
On Twitter this afternoon things are busy as four people add themselves as followers of me in quick succession. Upon closer inspection they are just porn links from people that apparently believe that I have an apparent taste for porn apparently. Who gave them that idea?
Bored and with nowhere to do I channel hop and come across Clueless on Film4. I used to have a big thing for Alicia Silverstone and it was called a boner. This is actually a really great movie although it is the saccharine flipside of the Generation X reality of the time. Its weird to see the dude from Scrubs in it with attitude as well as Brittany Murphy considering what she briefly became in the movie with Eminem. Also at this time comes a moment to lament the (lost) career of the beautiful Stacy Dash.
As I gawp at the idiot tube for such an extended spell I find myself slowly relaxing in my desk/office chair and leaning back a bit too much, almost feeling able to close my eyes and go to sleep. When things become really comfortable I find myself lifting my legs off the ground and sitting cross-legged in the seat to full curl up in bliss. Not long after this the chair begins to creak and give way from beneath me. As I begin to take the form of a chimp swinging and falling off a tyre hanging from a tree branch in an effort to cushion my fall I suddenly realise that I have broken the fucking chair. Have I really now reached such a weight where a chair can no longer sustain my bulk. Once the dizzying birds have ceased flying around my head, as I study the chair the left arm has snapped right off. Cheap shit. I cannot believe how a block of tough plastic mix has snapped off.
With this suddenly my day has taken a real turn for the worse. This is what happens when I spend too much time in my flat Bohemian Grove, this apartment is so unhealthy for me. I look at ways of repairing my chair but it just impossible. A couple of times I manage to “reattach” the arm to the stump of plastic left behind but every time I either lean back against the cushion or lean on the arm the fucker falls to pieces. EPIC FAIL.
I bloody love this chair. The history of it goes that it was a birthday present (along with an awesome desk) from my parents a couple of years ago but when they bought it from Staples the cashier forgot to scan it so it was a freebie! The unfortunate reality is that it is the most comfortable piece of furniture in my flat by a mile and now it is no more! Sadness accrues.
Depressed and looking for somewhere comfortable to be and to do I head back to bed where I watch the DVD from the new Hold Steady live album (“A Positive Rage”) and the Andy Kaufman “I’m From Hollywood” DVD. These two items have Matthew Crosby written all over them (lol).
The Hold Steady DVD is fantastic. Here is a band that you would want to be in and their success feels like a victory to hard work and integrity as their lives do not feel a million miles away from our own and those of anybody attempting to be artistic or creative in the purpose of having fun. The DVD begins at that wild January weekend in 2007 when they appeared to be playing shows in London every night. I was luckily enough to go to the Saturday night show at the Borderline and the place was rammed/packed and by fortunate accident I ended up only able to stand at the entrance/exit which was so close to the stage I could almost smell the sweat of Craig Finn and see just how wasted he was in the most fun drunk of ways. All the way through his loving gestures felt so insincere and you genuinely go the impression here was a person happy to be performing for the audience and with unamplified screams away from his mic of “you’re all Hold Steady” here was a rare connection between band and audience I have seldom ever seen. As the gig ended with the crowd invading the stage and taking over instrument duties this was a rare example connection and celebration at a rock show concluding a very special evening.
The Andy Kaufman DVD turns out to be only OK and mainly about his wrestling feud in Memphis with Jerry Lawler. The original footage is fairly low quality which taints the spectacle slightly as the performers turn out to be thoroughly entertaining and true professionals. It is amusing to see Jimmy Hart turn up in his Memphis days as main heel manager. It never drops kayfabe and when people such as Robin Williams and his Taxi co-stars make comments where they question his sanity and his obsession you cannot tell whether they are in on it or not. I still prefer My Breakfast With Blassie but getting to see the whole story with Jerry Lawler unfold from the perspective of being both a comedy and wrestling fan is thoroughly good times to me and the amount of passion and respect Kaufman had for the art of wrestling is something that was truly admirable.
Having had a break, I resume writing with The Simpsons on Channel Four playing out in the background. I am searching for inspiration while trying to balance on a prat filled broken chair. Unfortunately out of boredom I find myself staring at Eastenders when I may as well be staring out to space.
With work in mind I hop into a bath and endeavour to return to a professional mindset.
I end the evening in bed glaring at some weird drama on ITV featuring Ray Winstone perving over Bend It Like Beckham who everyone I know fancies, if for nothing else she is non-threatening. I end up on Facebook exchanging real time comments about the silly programme and receive some kind of backhanded compliment in a vague comparison to Ray Winstone in this show. Well, at least this suggests she thinks I’m good at sex.
I need a girlfriend.