Sunday, 28 March 2010

Sunday 28 March 2010 – WRESTLEMANIA SUNDAY

Sunday 28 March 2010 – WRESTLEMANIA SUNDAY

Dream: strange dreams last night, ones that transplanted me back to the house that I grew up in Little Clacton.  There life seemed more simple, less confused and steeped in the more basic surroundings of Clacton where I grew up.  None of this information overload that I suffer from today but more solid based focus on family and relations.  My aunt was in the dream and it played like a movie, an air of affection screamed through proceedings and there still felt like there was optimism to be had in that existence.  Returning home I found myself back in my old bedroom at the back of the house with free time excited by what movie may be on television that afternoon.  It is Good Friday.  In the end on TV it was a Sherlock Holmes double bill and this felt like a treat (while also possibly being a nod to my experience at Baker Street).  Back in the kitchen I find myself watching the old white portable TV and GMTV where suddenly they are addressing on of my peccadilloes without realising it.  The weather girl Clare points out how short she is with regards to a prize they are giving away and suddenly I find myself inclined to report this on the internet and suddenly the illusion is broken because there was never any internet in the house where I grew up and the dream suddenly comes to an end and a set of credits roll on the TV where we look for our names.  I roll out of my childish apparition and realise that I am an adult still doing childish things and it concerns me more than ever.  I begin to worry about the future and funerals.  I need to make changes.

From here I emerge around 8.15AM.  The clocks have changed so this late hour is really a misrepresentation of the time according to my body clock.  I find myself lying awkwardly in my bed with my head at a strange angle creating a headache.  When I look over my TV is still on, it has been on all night and instead of switching it off at some point I just put it on mute.  Did I have to the intention of resuming watching it after a quick catnap?  Such are my failures.

Yesterday with hindsight was a disaster.  I don’t know what was up with me, some kind of mental block appeared to take hold and I never regained momentum from there.  Thankfully this morning I appear to have a bit more intellect and a bit more gusto, an enthusiasm towards proceedings and one where my approach seems a little more philosophical.

Am I wasting my time?

The dream was probably based around the early nineties.  In my head this morning is the song “The Shining Hour” by Grant Lee Buffalo from the album Fuzzy.  I am writing and feeling this during the 8AM hour so I guess this is my shining hour.  In a true act of nostalgia I search out the CD and put it on to see if it holds up and if I can fully transplant myself back to those times.

As the hour passes through 9AM the sun persists and a larger air of optimism looms over today’s proceedings, which was distinctly devoid and missing from my Saturday.

From here I actually achieve a decent bout of writing, hitting the ground running and finding something I didn’t have yesterday.

This week Stephen Merchant appears on Something For The Weekend and it is just depressing, whiffing of the most desperate shilling possible.  He is currently on the promo circuit for Cemetery Junction, which I hope will be really good.  Shame about its audience and fanbase.

Taking a breaking from writing I watch two episodes of 30 Rock that feature Michael Sheen in a guest role as Liz Lemon’s destiny.  I think this is the first time I have ever seen Michael Sheen play someone other than a historical figure and as a result not doing his impression act he comes over as a much more fun performer with a keen knack for comedy.  Playing the old English buffoon in an American TV show can be a real snakepit, as nasty interpretations of British culture are expressed a sensible person could be forgiven for feeling offended.

Soon my Sunday heads towards 3PM and the usual routine visit to my parents’ for Sunday dinner.  As ever when I arrive the dog is happy to see me.

The game today on Sky is Liverpool v Sunderland, which in the end Victimpool wins 3-0.  The real highlight of this game turns out to be catching glimpses of the lady sat behind Kenny Dalgish in the stands, she is a genuine honey.  Ultimately I have little interest in the game so instead I choose to watch a download of the WWE Hall Of Fame 2010 inductions.  It all ends with Ted Dibiase and dollar bills falling from the ceiling.  I always thought he was an overrated performer.

Today my main source of entertainment continues to be trying to get/make the dog bite mum’s feet and ankles.  I got to say he is getting pretty fucking good at it.  In a way it serves her right for wearing such stupid slippers.  At the same time I worry for the dog though, surely it is not healthy for him to be getting exposed so closely to her stinky feet.

As ever I linger around to grab some dinner while in place of the missing 6PM Simpsons slot I again subject dad with the Harry Hill repeat repeat.

Eventually I head home winding my way through the car park maze that is Balkerne Heights these days.  Things have never been so bad, it is almost to the point now that I can’t squeeze between the various parked vehicles.  As ever I sound my horn in disgust, as if anyone is going to take notice of that.

Once home I do some writing and have a bath while basking in the glory of a night of TV showing 28 Weeks Later, Mean Streets, King Of Comedy, Jersey Girl and The Commitments.  This is an unbelievable schedule of great movies all being squashed together in the listings at a time when the remainder of the weekend’s TV was pretty much the pits.

Elsewhere tonight it is Wrestlemania but unfortunately it is years now since I have had Sky at my disposable for such things.

No comments:

Post a Comment