Monday 31 August 2009 – BANK HOLIDAY MONDAY

Hell is other people.

It was probably not the best idea in the world to fall asleep in my new top last night. This will now serve to make it prematurely tatty.

I miraculously sleep until 8.30AM, this is great stuff, almost a decent night’s sleep and significant lie in. For this I should really in theory feel refreshed and envigored but the reality is that I just wake up feeling as cranky as ever. I guess it’s not my body that is feeling the toll currently.

Why on earth does ITV persist in showing Jeremy Kyle (the king of the Gypsies) on Bank Holidays? Is there not enough misery attached to proceedings already?

Today is intended to be about writing and hoping not to get distracted by childish things. I have to say though with recent events (pulling down the blog) the wind really has been knocked out of my sails.

As I peruse my downloads I come across the first few episodes of Hung on HBO and after a lukewarm pilot episode the realisation that it is only a thirty minute show helps lend me the patience to sit through it. And this serves me and the show well as episodes two and three turn out to be very fun and enjoyable, not least for the performance of kooky sidekick Tanya played by Jane Adams who last popped up in The Wackness but was also truly fantastic in Wonder Boys. Strangely in the current financial climate we live in its recognition in this show and the main character’s efforts to get through them is somewhat life affirming even if the premise is that he has a larger dick than the viewer. There is a shadowy, dark feel to the tone and environment of the programme, one where the lights are dimmed and sex is well represented in its full horror instead of glory. This just maybe the best working class escort since Midnight Cowboy and thus far he has managed to keep it straight.

Of course I get inevitably distracted from writing as Channel Four repeats their T4 From The Beach event showing off seemingly the cream of the current music crop. Amongst them is Peter Andre and I begin to wonder just how great it would be to be him at this time. He has no discerning talent but is still managing to cash in on the most stupid of publics, perhaps the dumbest public in the history of man so far. Idiocracy looks set to happen if watching this “music” event (actually exercise into PR and marketing event) is to be believed. When Ndubz appear you begin to wonder just when Chris Morris will come out from behind the scenes to point out it was his invention all the long. I don’t hate Dappy but fucking hell the kid can’t string a real sentence together to save his fucking life.

This is my day.

In the afternoon BBC1 premieres the movie Goal. This is fucking hilarious, the Sky Sports version of football on a big screen. The main guy’s dad is the dad from Ugly Betty which gives a bit of absurd humour to proceedings. Despite all this bollocks I do find myself getting sucked into the film and begin to think more of it as a guide to Newcastle United. What money grabbing sap at that club allowed the place to be represented in such a Mickey Mouse manner?

Before the end of the movie (I almost said game) I get a beep on my phone and it is a message from Mark suggesting a meet up at the pub. With it being a beautiful day outside I would only be a fool to waste the opportunity to sit and drink outside in it.

Again it is another reliable session of defragging these times. One of us is headed to Leytonstone while the other remains train torture bound. It’s not hard to resent this reality, this existence and this world.

Compared to recent outings tonight is a short one as afterwards I head to my parents on the blag before heading home to the reality of having wasted my bank holiday weekend.

In the end I wind up watching Kill Bill: Vol One on BBC2 where I find myself somewhat pleasantly shocked by the quality of it. Was this movie always this good? The techniques now appear breathtaking and super efficient. Maybe it is a case that I just get/understand/see the origins and references with more clarity. Impressively the movie grips me all the way to the end well past midnight. A feat seldom worked on me in this day and age.