Wednesday, 17 February 2010

Wednesday 17 February 2010

I wake tired but feeling somewhat happier and exuberant this morning.  This is sick, what exactly was it that changed my mood?

From here my mood gets tested as I discover a hole in the arse of my favourite Gap trousers.  These things feel fucking irreplaceable, I’ve tried to buy a second pair but there is just always something different, something wrong with the new strides.  These won’t last much longer and as soon as someone at work notices the hole then it will be game over and I won’t be able to wear them again.

Unsurprisingly my mood is once more put to the test as I stand freezing cold on the platform awaiting the 6.59AM, which doesn’t bother to turn up.  Eventually it arrives late becoming the 7.07AM.  There is no forgiveness.

During the journey at Witham some grey haired old cunt boards and basically tries to sit on my lap becoming the worst plate crowder in a very long time.  Quite frankly with these overbearing gestures he is little short of a rapist.  Not long after the train pulls out of the station he gets the hump and moves to another seat.  Am I right in feeling embarrassment and humiliation by his reaction and the result?  Am I really so large these days that people cannot fit in the seat next to me?  Maybe he just wanted a seat and a half to himself also.  I look at the guy and he resembles failed Liverpool physio cum manager Roy Evans so I can partly understand his angst and frustration at the world and his surroundings (including me).  It was funny though how his other (better) half sat in the seat opposite him and didn’t bother to move with him when he did.  Their love is plainly not strong; I bet he hogs the fucking bed too.

I cannot believe it is Wednesday already (the Tuesday Thursday Blur).  I have to concede that I am fucking fed up today.  There are a few pointers as to what is creating this but on the whole things are relatively good and realistically I should not be feeling this way at this time.

Into work, today is another day of pottering, which as a result sees me slow getting started and fairly low on productivity.

As the morning progresses dare I admit that I actually spend a good portion of the first part of the day looking up Howard Zinn and trying to learn about his work.  It is time.

The IT Guy is back today.  In my opinion the powers that be here are acting quite badly towards him with their complete cut off with his services.

Lunch happens.

From here the afternoon plays out statically.  More indications of the IT Guy being frozen out are unearthed as many of his old site information schedules are now taking on something of quite a different format.  This does not necessarily work in my favour either.

By the time 5.30PM arrives I am ready to head out to the IMAX where tonight we are heading for a long overdue (and long booked) screening of AVATAR.  It is very easy getting there from St Johns Wood, it is Jubilee Line all the way and with a 6.30PM meet up time as a result I am not in the biggest of hurries to get there.

When I emerge at Waterloo it is straight into the rush.  This is a huge fucking station and a pretty difficult place to meet up with people if you have set no direction.  As ever I arrive earlier than stipulated, I always do.  Invariably however the 6.30PM meet up time comes and goes with no sign of any cohorts arriving.

Eventually Racton turns up, well timed because it is just as things are beginning to look bleak.  Soon afterwards Brendan arrives and we almost have a crew, which then finally gets completed as Mark turns up not long later.

We take a weird route out of the station (led by a buffoon), one that seems to take in the sights but doesn’t really use much in the way of common sense.  As we pass the lower level entrance of the station Brendan points and quizzes “didn’t we just pass that?”

Tonight we headed to a noodle place called Culture situated a few doors down from The Old Vic.  On the way a truly weird moment occurs as we walk up The Cut and a strange gesture to cut into conversation happens.  It is intensely made and feebly unachieved.  It is odd and still confuses me now.

Bowling up to the restaurant despite its promise it turns out to be a no frills cum crappy cheap food joint.  It baffles me why this gaff even got suggested.  I am so bored of Asian food these days; it’s all I seem to have whenever we eat out these days.  Perhaps it’s my growing inability to deal with spicy food.

I don’t really bother with conversation as the others go off cheeping.  I just can’t be bothered to shout over people anymore.  I went through most of this last night.  Sadly the glazed expression I sport is a sincere one.

Despite my cynicism Brendan is coming equipped with great stories of the Sci-Fi weekender that he has just been to at Camber Sands.  I don’t think he ever went to an ATP there so the venue sounds like it turned out to be something of a culture shock for him.  On the whole listening to the description and having seen the photos from the event it all sounds like a total cash in and rip off.

After our food we still have some time to kill before the movie so we head into The Old Vic for a drink where most of the conversation is about videogames culminating in an anecdote about Salman Rushdie spending his time in hiding actually playing Nintendo instead of writing.  That wacky guy.

Eventually we head to the IMAX for AVATAR, buying some sweets from Simsbury’s on the way and hoping that we do not get patted down on the way into the cinema.  Once more along the way our group appears to split in half.  What is going on here?

Upon entering the IMAX dare I admit that I thought the place would be bigger, more impressive?  With three hours of 3D film awaiting ahead I join the queue for the toilet where amongst so much movie enthusiasm I struggle to perform.

We enter the screen and now things begin to look impressive as I find myself having to creek my neck to see the whole screen.  Still, would it be gauche to say that I wanted it to be bigger?

As we take our seats we grab our glasses.  They are cheap and flimsy.  I had been led to believe that they would be of a Blues Brothers Ray-Ban copy hybrid.  Instead however they look like something Buggles would have rejected.  Immediately it is obvious that it is going to be a long night.

With this I tear into my Haribo with gusto, half comforting eating half emotional eating.  Unfortunately before the trailers are over I discover that I have already eaten the bag.  Perhaps I was afraid of being rumbled by cinema Nazis of bringing in and consuming confectionary not purchased on the premises.

Just before AVATAR begins a geek rocks the mike and gives it some kind of introduction akin to an air stewardess pointing out exits on a plane and how to blow up a rubber ring.  More or less he tells us how to wear 3D glasses and leans on us to get excited.  It’s all part of the process.

Betrayed by a blockbuster.

AVATAR proves to be underwhelming.  Why did this surprise me?  The 3D really doesn’t blow me away and the special effects don’t necessarily look that great either.  Ultimately everything is surface.

Initially it is fun to watch early on as Terminator 4 (Sam Worthington) but soon it all gets penetrated by the fact that there is very little in the way of light relief as the film begins to feel as if it is pummelling the audience with some kind of do good message.  The lack of humour is even more surprising considering that the guy from Dodgeball is in the movie.  In the end unfortunately the funniest thing about the movie turns out to be the changing hairstyles of Terminator 4 and the way it is used to indicate/signify the passing of time in the most unsubtle of fashions.  Those are some bad wigs.

Sadly I think party I came into the movie suspicious of it and its apparent subtext and agenda when in reality I was hoping for some kind of 2001: A Space Odyssey experience, the emotional response that so many people have been claiming to have.  Quite frankly I want to be effect by Pandora Depression.  Perhaps we should have dropped acid before entering the IMAX.

Elsewhere it doesn’t really say much for a movie when the best thing I can say about it is “the dogs were cool.”  As I begin to yawn and gain more cynicism towards the movie at a key point of destruction I find myself leaning across to Racton and saying, “that’s just like 9/11.”  And that is the problem of the piece through and through.

So why don’t I possess any empathy or sympathy towards the blue creatures/characters?  Perhaps it is because they are quite nasty.  I do not recall them making one funny (one joke) or even smiling although I’m sure around the point of the stunted sex scene some kind of smirk was raised.

As the movie begins to climax with the Battle Of Endor I actually begin cheering on Stephen Lang, I just want him to kill the blue fucker.  What is this guy’s story?  His scars are potentially the most interesting thing about the show.  Likewise why is the always excellent Giovanni Ribisi so painfully underused and quite frankly wasted in the process?  What is his story?  Why didn’t they cover any Weyland-Yutani type territory?  That’s what I want to watch, something that makes sense where there is a real message waiting to happen that could be used to great effect.

Eventually it all ends in predictable fashion having used plenty of clich√© in the process.  As we leave the IMAX I comment, “the blue things were Muslims, right?”

Talking on the tube the others are less venomous in their opinions but that is just their natures.  They didn’t really like it but right now I am displaying more than enough disdain for all of us.  Currently I appear to be drawing a worrying amount of such blank looks and expressions.

I arrive at Liverpool Street around twenty past midnight resentful of the process that got me here so late.  The realisation that tonight I will be catching the 12.46AM soon hits me.  This is the worst train imaginable, the one for destitute souls and gluttons for punishment.  And now it seems for AVATAR fans also.  Painfully I will now not be home until past 2AM.  Mark did offer me the opportunity to sleep on his couch in Leytonstone but I just want my bed.

Tonight the train comes coupled with a number of Hole fans returning from Courtney’s first show in years.  These kids look so frighteningly young like they were not alive the one and only time I saw Hole back at Reading 95.

Eventually I get back to Colchester and attempt some sleep at around 2.30AM.

The madness.

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