All entries for February 2010
February 27, 2010
I probably won't post a lot of creative stuff for a while. I'm busy getting inspired for Big work. Here are some inspirational things that will keep me ticking over.
M Finnissy's English Country Tunes:
Kryzysztof Penderecki's Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima:
Webern's Piano Variations:
You get the idea. Cool stuff.
In anticipation of the Tim Burton adaptation, here is what must have been the first Alice film.
Classic German Serial Killer film. Amazing.
Because Classic Movies are good. This film is officially in the public domain, so its being here is, in fact, perfectly legal. Free movies. Free, good movies. This can only be a good thing.
February 26, 2010
Adverts never used to make me scream, but now I’m horrified whenever anyone on TV says ‘Hut’, whenever I hear the build up to the piercingly shrill shriek-fest that is a Boots advert and, more to the point, whenever those demonic Evian babies skate across my screen. Those babies are the hellish love-children of the Cloverfield monster and whatever kept freaking that couple out in Paranormal Activity. Note to Evian advert people: seeing babies rollerskating and dancing is not cute, it is unnatural. The way you contort their bodies is repulsive and your disregard for the physical health of your CGI-Monsters and for the mental health of the unsuspecting viewer is almost as odious as the spectacle itself.
I fear that this advert is merely indicative of a trend that refuses to stop growing. There is an inexorable plague of children on TV. There are a couple more eye-stabbing Kid-centric adverts floating around at the moment, both supported by the government. The first is a swarm of children singing ‘I’ll Do Anything’ in a bid to stop their parents smoking, and the second a load of children talking about how alcohol is going to mess their lives up when they get older. Fact time. The smoking kids don’t care about stopping their parents from smoking. They just want to be on TV. Children love attention. They love attention more than chocolate, Spongebob Squarepants and certainly more than the state of their parents’ lungs. Children are selfish. The youngest members of the AA are probably looking forward to being able to get ‘mash-up’. One boy appears to promise himself a future where he will be offered drugs in a nightclub. He then proceeds to brush his teeth with such fervor for his ever so exciting future. One thing that children love more than getting attention is sticking it to their parents.
Now, humble reader, you may feel the need to interject at this point and tell your immodest columnist that I clearly have underlying issues with my own childhood, but this is not the case. This is how the ad-men want you to treat people who find the sight of children on TV abhorrent instead of cute, endearing and guilt inducing. The children in the public service announcements are menacingly attached to horrific social malaises as if they are the true victims of an uncaring society. We are being constantly asked to consider future generations, to make life better for them. All I envision is a new generation of apathetic droids emerging with a fag sticking out of their collectively foppish mouth and an enormous bottle of Cherry Lambrini in hand to chug on the way to the discotheque.
So, perhaps I am uncaring. Perhaps I am soulless, and I should let myself be madly affected by the government’s children. Perhaps I should just sit back and relax while the three horsemen of the infant apocalypse scourge the ne’er-do-wells who dare to listen to their warnings, but I refuse to remain idle. Any advert campaign with children in it is destined to fail. I refuse to be conned by the acts of desperate ad-men who can’t think of a tool more convincing than shoving careless sprogs into the glare of the public eye to sell water, or to say that climate change is a bad thing, or that perhaps by eating sweetcorn one might turn into a big green giant. It adds a whole other specious dimension to the already mindless advert break. Rant over, it’s time to make myself a coffee. The adverts are on.
February 25, 2010
Someone said ‘shit, this makes no sense’, and the world sunk to its knees again . We exchanged our feet for cake. We ate until we were fatter. We sunk the world. And lower, still.
I could kill that someone. If I wanted to leave my bed, I could kill. With a steak knife. Or a dessert spoon.
The cake was worth it. Not one of us can run. We are more equal than ever.
A man on the TV proposed the sale of our legs for some more sugar. Somehow, someone did something. And we have no legs. So the world grated soft our stronger genitals.
I could fuck that someone. If I could leave my bed, I could fuck. With a steak knife. Or a dessert spoon.
The sugar was worth it. Not one of us can walk. We are more equal than ever.
And lower, still.
Piles of dough.
Pits should be dug for all the shit.
February 23, 2010
what you wan t
it's alljustwater and ai.r
February 22, 2010
Metal on metal on metal. And sheets. And noise, an itchy noise. And an amputated hand grip on my knee. Anonymous love and care and boredom. More metal. The hand is metal. My eyes, lips, ear lobes.
A fan presses air in the background. Killing itself. For nothing. It will clank to its death and no-one will offer finger comfort. The sky a gravestone in its mass grave. With all the other cars.
Rebirth...either a monster or a storm. Nothing good can come of a metal revolution.
What if Jesus was wrong?
“Darling. Poppet. My love. Dearie. Duck. Sweet-Pea. Sausage. Mate. Mate. Mate. Poppet. My love. Chair. Darling. Nurse! Oh, my love. Oh, poppet. Oh, dear. Oh, sausage.”
and the fan breathes. It clunks, then breathes. It saw me.
So. I believe I'm supposed to be looking into influences. I read a lot of blogs so I would say that blog-land people have an influence on me and therefore on my writing.
Here follows a list of the blogs I like to frequent. Some are music blogs, some fashion, some just writing. Some are a combination. This list will probably (definitely) grow.