November 2002 Archives
I feel like I've just done Christmas, New Year's Eve, a wedding and a funeral in one go. Seeing cousin M. came with an uncle J. and an aunt D. on the side, and a portion of telephonic cousin D. ("I haven't seen you since you were 4!") and cousin C. ("What have you got me into, you bastard!") for dessert. We conversed in that odd mix of dutch, indonesian and english we've always used to communicate. 65 years of family memories, revelations, bits and pieces to put together. A lot of laughter and, for me at least, some very real emotions, long repressed. Here we are at Nam Tin (1,2), because our family cannot get together without have large amounts of food. (My aunt asked for steamed pig feet, we had to settle for For Nam.) Cousin M. is as funny as his dad and as dominant as my grandfather and when I look at him I see both in his face. He's pushy, old fashioned, colonial. Impeccably dressed, he rubs me the wrong way and he's too serious even for me... but hey, I'm sure I'm just as annoying and he doesn't seem to mind that. Plus, he's family. What a bloody odd year this is.
One of these "I've never been outside my State" and "let's link to stuff we've never eaten so it must be vile" type of posts that piss me off in an entirely over the top way. Sorry, I just OD'd on public fora.
Uncrossing fingers, danger averted.
Hello
Hello. Have you been here long?
Oh, ten minutes. I'm usually early.
It's quite warm here, don't you think?
That never bothers me much, to be honest with you.
You're very fortunate.
Say, what's that noise?
What noise?
That noise. Over there!
I don't hear anything.
There it is again!
Yes, I hear it too now.
But that's...
I played a bum last night, in acting class. In two's, we were given the above text which we had used before and the task was to use the text, do something physical to portray your character, define the setting, and to try to get the other player to do something for you.
The second I pulled on my jacket, messed up my hair and made my way towards the makeshift counter for soup, soul and salvation, I was old, homeless, alcoholic and, apparently, funny.
Mumbling, occasionally ranting, glaring and gesticulating at passers by. With stooped gait and shuffling feet, I was sweating inside the winter jacket. A tired, sick, bitter old woman with just enough wit left to bamboozle the chirpy believer stirring the soup.
I inhabited that person, didn't hear the laugher though I did laugh myself. Responded to the audience, though they weren't there. Talked with the other player, but never looked her in the eye. Spoke words that weren't written, really hated a soup that wasn't there, wanted that drink and got a spoon I didn't have tangled up in dirty strands of hair.
We brought the scene to its unwritten conclusion. The other player apologised for laughing too much. I hadn't noticed.
Whether it was good or bad, I don't know and that's besides the point anyway.
The point is, I took that character home with me. Cycling home, trying to shake it off. She was still with me when I woke up the next day, went to work. I thought about her on the platform, waiting for the 8:53. I thought about her when I roughly told a beggar to fuck off.
There but for the grace of god.
I keep thinking of her, because that was my alternative reality me. Because it could still be me, one day. Because I touched fear there, for a few moments.
{the photo is a publicity shot of my father in an (amateur) play he appeared in in the mid Seventies. I don't think he ever took that character home with him, but I did rehearse his lines with him a lot.}
Eddie Izzard: The Whale Song. (600k .wmv file)
I am a bad bad girl. (Hey, I figure it goes out of my advance, which I haven't got yet, but what the hell. This'll save me time.)
I managed to locate my cousin M. He's got this Indonesian mobile that's kind of wonky. And so I find myself shouting into a phone, dodging reverb and waiting seconds for my voice to arrive to where he's at... which, as the bird flies, would be just 8 kilometers. For a second it took me back to the 60's, ringing Jakarta once a year for Christmas. Cousin M., three years my senior, has never lived in Holland. He was brought up in Ghana, Indonesia and Denmark and went to international schools. Yet he (still) speaks perfect Dutch, though perhaps slightly old fashioned in vocubulary and pitch. He sounds uncannily like my grandfather. I haven't seen him since I was 12 years old. Tomorrow's going to be interesting.
This Wave Finder is very cool too.
I want to say something vile about Aaron Sorkin (writer of The West Wing) here because the ribbing of the Star Trek fan (oh yes, and let's cast an overweight actress, let's) and fans in general in the last episode of The West Wing was just. not. on. Kindly take out your TWOP frustrations elsewhere, but not on my screen, dickhead. Have some more drugs, will ya. (If we have to have fan-ribbing, I much preferred Buffy's actual "kick the Spike" move in the last episode. Eat that Spuffy-ists).
I want this: iRiver iFP-180T. MP3 player, FM radio, voice recorder. Ideal for commuting and working on book at the same time.
"Just when I thought I was out--they pull me back in!" Family, eh? Mishpoche. Kin. 25 years on, everything's changed, yet stays the same. Anyway, might be meeting cousin M. this weekend. Then again, might not.
"Noses are a southside thing." Well, that was the first guffaw of the day. Fingers firmly crossed for the midwife.
Via Tom, is this the first Two Towers review?
The new James Bond film Die Another Day is one of the best in the whole series, I think, if you leave out the final third of the movie. It starts out gritty, old fashioned in a cold war way and sexy (and I'm not just talking Brosnan, although he's looking better and better as he ages. Not bad for a Meath man.) but loses a bit of its power when the pyrotechnics take over the ice palace and things become... well, silly, as you'd expect in the modern Bond film. One day there will be a director who has the guts to see it through till the end. And he'll be fired. Some of the action's fantastic. A long fencing scene in particular, took me right back to Scaramouche. Sex with Halle looks good. Sex with the other girl... was cut. Awww, c'mon! Can't we just give these films a higher rating? Anyway... The opening thingy (always forget what they're called) over Madonna's song is so good you almost forget what a crappy song it is. The bit of 'London Calling' was very cool. I'll definitely go see it again on the big screen. Unfortunately, the film won't be released in Holland till January, because they think it might suffer from Harry Potter and LOTR in December.
There's something wrong with the clock. There seems to be no time between work and sleep left for me to do the really important things like blather on here. How do you kids do it?
As you all know by now, I'm doing this book on U2 which involves having to listen to all the bootlegs of their last two tours. I'm sure if I asked for volunteers to listen to U2's entire Popmart tour, I'd attract a couple of loonies, but not many sane people. However, the listening bit has not been a trial so far. I never listened to the Popmart gigs much at the time of the tour. I detested a lot of the material back then (Really didn't see the merit of Do you feel loved, If God will send his angels, Last night on earth, Gone) and didn't want to hear the tunes except for a few, like "Miami". What a complete and utter mindfuck of a tune that was and still is. And I can tell you, I could listen to it a hundred times and still love it. Which is good, cause, yeah, that's what I'm doing.
Jeffrey Zeldman's Glamorous Life "Eventually the captain tells us we’re doing a “go-around” because of a slow-moving plane in front of us. We figure that’s the PG-13 version. We figure had he been in Dallas in ’63, he would have told us Oswald acted alone."
prol·cras·ti·nate
v. prol·cras·ti·nat·ed, prol·cras·ti·nat·ing, prol·cras·ti·nates
v. intr.
To put off doing all and everything important out of habitual carelessness or laziness but especially hoping someone will step in to take care of things.
Action Transvestite Eddie Izzard, wrapped in leather, doing Darth Vader.
The Streets is playing The Max at the Milky Way tonight. It's so tempting. Maybe I'll just play the album loudly.
Irish lit quiz, I scored 7 out of 12, but had to guess at most of the questions.
Last night's gathering of kind souls involved multiple people applying or considering applying for one and the same job, a declaration of intent to launch a new prolitical party, at least 7 hours of computer upgrading, horror stories involving spiders, some bad news, some good news, cockroaches and the selling of free software to sightless parental units, smelly brother-in-law events, strings, guitars, plastic bags and blog gossip. 't Was altogether a marvelous way to slide into the weekend.
Sorry. Bear with me for a second while I link all the outfits I had/have for my Action Men: Deepsea diver, basic soldier, frogman, german officer, tank commander jacket. I was rather jealous of my cousin C. who had the talking doll , the assault raft, the helicopter and the bloody big tank. Rich bastard.
Fab! Vintage Action Man, a site celebrating the original Action Man figure, starts out saying: "It saddens me when I look at the new Action Man, with his rollerblades, stupid hairdo and a muscle bound phsique (sic)." I feel exactly the same. My three Action Man dolls are sitting in a box at my parents' place. They look cooler and more expensive than the ugly things they're selling under the same name today. One day, I'll get the box and dress the dolls up nicely, put them up for display. Or, you know, just sell 'em for big bucks. (So yeah, I'm a girl. So I played with boys' war toys. So what?)
My friend Walter's just enrolled in art school:Make your own Atari. (scroll down to the end and click "deze link") It's a 1.5mb quicktime mov.
A blessing on the taxman and his children and his children's children.
Spam today: "Does she wish you were bigger?" No. She wishes you were there.
Metafilter Wiki: a general guide for MetaFilter, administrated by Adrian Hon.
"If you pull that Velvet Dress...... over your Portishead, can I watch?" This might be of interest to a wider audience. Lovely cover cum mash up of um... that tune by Portishead, and U2's If you wear that velvet dress. Works like a dream and the vocals by one Michael D'Anca are delicious. We don't know the name of his band.
Intriguing phone call of the day: "Hi, I'm calling cause I've lost my brother. Have you heard from him?"
Pssst... Usenet not fast enough for you? Tired of queuing on IRC? Try BitTorrent if you're into downloading TV captures. Very hush hush, she said while looking completely pleased with her 105K/s West Wing download.
Matt and Kay discuss Six Feet Under : "Say, last week when you were working late, you wouldn't have happened to be having sex with random strangers off the street would you?"
Hydragenic is fragmented. Happy 35th, Stuart.
Kids... never lose yer job, cause social services will drive you round the bend. Well, at least in my country they will. Two parties are involved in unemployment benefit and neither sent me the forms and papers I needed to obtain my money. Both have no idea why this happened. It all involves double work for me... I have to go through the entire signing on procedure again, which means I will be missing hours working in my current job (in which I'm paid by the hour as I'm officially temping), which means less money NOW to obtain the money that is rightfully mine in the past.
More from the treasure trove. This is my grandfather, "Opa Dam". Playing Bridge, one of his passions. His full Christian name was William Kodama Leopold. The middle name is Japanese. His mother named him after some Japanese general and it saved my granddad's hide once when Japanese soliders caught him out after curfew, in the war.
Opa Dam tried to teach me to drive once, in a parking lot not far from where my grandparents lived in Amsterdam. I drove forward. I drove backward. I parked the car. Then I forgot where the brake was and the car very quietly bumped against a tree leaving a dent in the fender.
I'd expected him to get angry and shout 'Sontolojoh!' at me. I've no idea what that means, but he used to shout it a lot at us, his grandchildren, or at the telly, watching football. He said it didn't mean anything, that he'd made it up. I didn't believe him and thought it probably meant something really, really bad.
He didn't shout at me. I said I was sorry. Then we went home and never spoke about it again. He probably put some money in my hand later on when I left. He always did that.
That was the last time Opa Dam tried to teach me to drive. He never did tell my grandmother.
I remember my grandmother, Oma Lien (Caroline... I was named after her), always wringing her hands, worrying about her kids and grandchildren.
Here she is, third from the left. Smoking a cigarette. When I grow my hair, it looks exactly like that only more straight and less dark. I don't think I ever heard her yell at any of us. She was sweet and quiet and sometimes a little batty and maybe she wasn't the greatest cook, but it was always there and always ready for me and all the friends I brought to meet my grandparents.
Anything I needed, silly things I wanted, whether books or kitchen ware, they'd provide me. Whether from their own shelves or from the shops, all I had to do is ask.
I wish I had asked them to tell me about themselves some more.
I got my first Christmas card a few days ago. [ ... ] What are your plans for Christmas?
Is it me or is the world musing on a death meme this year?
"Never before has the dry humour and occasional tragedy of office life been described as thoroughly as in this cycle of novels." (I would emphasise the intrinsic Dutchness of the work. I'm convinced office life is very different in other parts of the world) I don't read a lot of Dutch literature (too busy reading English) but J.J. Voskuil's 5,500 page book series "Het Bureau" captivated myself and my dad (as well as a larger part of the reading nation) for many months. I've finally found an English description (and more) of Voskuil's work while I was searching for info on his latest book (published this week) which, when I have a little bit more money, I'll run to the bookshop for.
Art Crime blog. Haven't read it yet, but love the look of it. (via MF)
Dublin got hit by floods last week and parts of the Northside and some of my friends suffered badly. G&M's "Horse Studio" got hit too. Sniff. Irony, oh irony... the same week U2 announced their new studios would be at the top of a new 180 ft office tower to be built in the Dublin docks development area.
Am totally addicted to these Sneker Zoethoudertjes. (dutch licorice)
VARA Necrocam: I removed this link earlier, but my audience demands I put it back. So if you want to watch a face decaying... have at it!
It's the weirdest feeling: enjoying your job and not thinking of it as "work" (apart from the unfortunate 10 hour gap in your spare time).
Barry Adamson live at Crossing Border.
EVHEAD: writes about Firefly's weblog. "Someone at Fox gets it?" Someone at Mutant Enemy (Firefly's production company) gets it, more likely. Fox don't get it. Fox ruined their own show by airing episodes out of order so that viewers got confused. Evhead also writes: "It almost even makes me want to watch the TV show before it gets cancelled." Fucking watch it! So it doesn't get cancelled! Seriously, this week's episode ("Ariel") was fabulous. But to come back to the original point of the post... Kelly's weblog has improved a lot since the start. And the whole Firefly site has the feel of a fansite now, even the essays and writer commentary have a likeable "unofficial" ring to 'em.
Ah bliss, my soundtrack albums came in (Dr Dolittle, Sound of Music, My Fair Lady). Currently listening to one of my favourite songs ever: "Beautiful Things" from Dr Dolittle, sung by Anthony Newley. And I'll just have to share it with you. "I can't explain what it is that he is, but he is what he is for a very good reason. I can't explain why he does what he does but he does what he does cause his heart is pure [ ... ] you wonder why the nightingale sings, lovers have wings, people wear rings, the world is full of beautiful things, beautiful people too, beautiful people... like you."
The Bond exhibition in the Science Museum was a bit of a disappointment. It could have been great. If they'd given the props, posters, gadgets some space and had left out the game element and not attempted to make the whole thing appeal to kids and a general audience, it might have been a little more enjoyable. They were squeezing too many people into too little time, distracting us with the game element. (too many people, too few terminals, too slow software, irritable staff) They put the screens showing bits of Bond films too high up on the wall and the gadgets behind odd gauze type metal so you could never get a proper view, only because they wanted to project images over the objects. If they'd done a simple display exhibit maybe it wouldn't have cost a fucking bundle to get in, either. And for crying out loud someone tell parents to leave their bloody buggies and babies in day care where they belong. (The Science Museum can't even get their e-mail form right... check that info they give.)
Oh god, I can't tell you how much I want this:ST:DS9 Officially Arriving on DVD February 25th. Best. Trek. Ever.
Be a Secret Santa. I am.
'Whaddyamean no love life? Go out there and getsum!' My cousin C. and I have always been close but we haven't seen each other in a decade or more. We have heaps of stuff to catch up on in each other's lives since we've only recently got back in touch. He rang me while I was on my way back from work, as was he. Me switching trains at Weesp station, he somewhere in Parisian traffic. Delighted to hear from him I ended up just breaking my heart laughing, probably talking too loudly and too personally (in rapid English, so hopefully the Cloggies didn't understand). He's still a scoundrel, I'm still a bit odd. I don't think we've changed much, essentially. His brother M. (I'm less close but still fond of him... and haven't seen him since the 70s. Imagine that.) will be on a business trip passing through Amsterdam next week. Hopefully our schedules will match. And if I can scrape the Euro together, Paris is looking good for Christmas.
We're not much more than meat. That's my lasting impression of the Body Worlds (Körperwelten) exhibition. When I first heard of it I knew I didn't want to see it. When Mr Hg suggested we go, I agreed anyway. And so I faced the bodies, dipped in plastic, stripped to essentials, just the muscles, just the veins, just the nerves, just the insides, just the outsides... are we really that pink inside? I couldn't bring myself to have a closer look at any of it, I was sure there'd be a smell and really, preserved human meat looks like any other... red ruddy corned bloody beef. With a year already steeped in death, this exhibition was - pardon the expression - too raw for me. I think Dr Gunther von Hagen´s attempt at 'art' (the winged man? the praying man? come on!) is the work of a deeply disturbed individual... who now wants to bring back public autopsies. (can't find the link)
On our way to the Science Museum, I bought a bottle of cappucino drink while Mr Hg made art.
Tonight I was a patient, a republican, a punter, a child, a dog owner and I went cockadoodledoo. Made me forget I was a worker too, today. Acting classes are still fun.
{click to enlarge}
A few years ago my grandfather's sister gave me a small suitcase containing photographs, mostly of my direct family.
This priceless picture is an oddity in the collection. Older Dutch readers might recognise the man.
I know who he is and how he connects with my family and I have some idea of when and where it was taken. But I want to hear your guesses. (who, when, where)
Update: three people got it right, Bob, Lars and Oxysept.
The man in the picture is Dutch-Jewish comedian Max Tailleur and the picture was probably taken in 1947, touring New Guinea. My mother, 16 years old at the time, accompanied him on the tour (playing piano).
Here she is:
fear is a disease
fear is repetitive
fear is gone
fear is real
fear is never boring
fear is the key @ hollywood
fear is nothing to be afraid of
fear is a cause of great nervous tension
fear is calm
fear is contagious
fear is the key
fear is a powerless jailer
fear is the enemy
fear is a crime
fear is their religion
fear is the mind killer
fear is the major cost of recessions
fear is not a question
fear is not surprising
fear is good
fear is here
fear is not the end
fear is the master
fear is justified; panic is not
fear is the devil's fire
fear is the greatest threat
fear is fear itself
fear is stronger?
fear is not that we are
fear is false
fear is the key
fear is necessary and healthy
fear is a hindrance to revival
fear is there for you to find
fear is in the air
fear is a very ancient and universal emotion in man
fear is our enemy; chaos is our friend
fear is how i fall
fear is ebay itself
fear is no way to rule the world
fear is nothing to be afraid of ?
fear is not my ally
fear is not an option
fear is frozen fun
fear is calm is finally updated
fear is our enemy
fear is showing
fear is a cause of great nervous tension
fear is the beginning of wisdom
fear is there
fear is cold
fear is our greatest enemy
fear is the prison
fear is a bugger
fear is bad government
fear is greatest threat
fear is a man's best friend
fear is going to be destroyed
fear is setting
fear is not that we are inadequate
fear is the mindkiller
fear is well founded
fear is what quickens me
fear is a very uncomfortable sensation
says googlism
You know what´s fun? Sticking your pass in an ATM when you´re on holiday and getting the "insufficient funds" message. Social Services owe me two and a half months of unemployment benefit, which in case you are wondering, is 70 percent of my last earned pay. A substantial amount of cash.) They´re a hard bunch to get through to. Tuesday: ring ring. ring ring. ring ring. ring ring. ring ring. grrr. Wednesday: "Hello, Social Services". Hello... I´d like to speak to Ms W. please. "She´s not in. And if she were, I wouldn´t be able to put you through, cause the system´s down and we can´t do anything. Goodbye." Thursday: "Hello, Social Services. I´ll put you through. ... One moment please, I have no idea what´s going on there. .... Can you wait a bit longer?" Sure. "Hello, Social Services." Yes, I have a question regarding my unemployment benefit... I have a letter here from you telling me I am entitled to it per September 2. I haven´t received anything yet and I never received any papers either. Can you find out what´s going on? "One moment please." ... "Yes, I´ll send you your papers this week. We can´t pay you until you fill them in." Ok... any idea why those papers weren´t sent yet? "No."
Wire live at Crossing Border 2002. Haven't watched it myself yet.
Hydragenic saves me the trouble of writing up my London weekend. Sunday too. "Prol and I were especially pleased" would be understating my experience of hearing Sinead sing Gav's "You made me the thief of your heart". I'd probably write something entirely prolistic like "my heart seemed too large for the space that confines it", which it did. When she leaps into that "ooh, you're lost, you're lost" bit it´s divinity cutting through bone and then to realise your mere mortal friend wrote those words, that melody? It's nothing less than maternal pride, I'm not ashamed to confess. Did I mention I couldn't see Sinead for 99% of the gig? All I ever saw was the stubble on the top of her skull, and sometimes her outstretched hand. It didn't matter. I focussed on the voice and music. Sinead's voice has to be heard live, the recording studio doesn't half capture its dynamics and intensity. It must be felt, experienced, working its way up from somewhere deep in your belly up to your crown. It's the voice of duality.
Got to remember the best things in life are still sort of free. The company of friends, dawn over the polders, the memory of touch, and... television (downloaded or "classic"). Coming home to some of the best episodes of Firefly, Angel and Buffy in just about ever is sweetening the otherwise somewhat bitter start of my week. North American viewers, don't miss Buffy tonight (S7x07, "Conversations with Dead People"), it's smashing.
Doesn't take too long to forget work is... hard work, does it? Commuting, over crowded - delayed - trains, people, noise, hooligans. I'm in bits.
Bought the perfect piece of airport fluff with literally my last 7 pounds: Robbie Williams - Somebody Someday, not so much a biography as a tour documentary. It's an easy read (I read the 300 pages from the departure lounge at Gatwick through Schiphol and the train and metro back home.) you learn quite a bit about Rob, Robbie and Robert and the highs and lows of touring. Lovely photos in it too.
This is the last day of my unemployment. The clock is ticking the hours away, say bye bye to the good life, baby. I'm grateful for the London trip, which while punctuated by crumpets, Bombardier, seeing dead people, perfect pizza, Irish ways and Irish flaws, black lentil dal, traffic, pork pies, early rise, pink corduroys, blisters, Bond bollocks, Chelsea, Bromley and West Ken, was mostly memorable for having spent what some might call "Quality Time" with the very wonderful and generous Mr D., Mr H and Mr Hg.
Behind every succesful community, there is a Dutch woman?
All hail Easyjet... arrived home 10 minutes early.
A privilege. That's what it is to be allowed to hear Sinead O'Connor sing. More later.
I don't usually get migraines when I'm on a holiday. [ ... ] I hope Sinead plays a bunch of quiet songs tonight.
The film "Donnie Darko" is the most pretentious piece of crap I've seen in my life.
London? Two words: vegemite crumpets.
If you're into David Sylvian, check out alt.binaries.sounds.mp3.bootlegs. Over the last few weeks people have been uploading tons of concert material from most of his solo tours to the newsgroup.
Definitely going to try to see the James Bond exhibition in the Science Museum in London.
I bought a bathroom scale today. There's a "design" shop in the neighbourhood that's about to close (it doesn't belong in this neighbourhood, that's why it's closing) and they have all kinds of trendy furniture and gadgets on sale that I still can't afford. I haven't weighed myself in, oh, 15 years, because I didn't really want to know. But there's something about turning 40... and those scales just kept whispering my name. So today I stood on my brand new scale (Is it scale or scales?) and found out I'm 12 kilos lighter than I thought I was. I know I've lost a little weight recently, having been ill for a couple of weeks, but 12 kilos? Anyway. I'm 5'1'', 60 kilos. And according to on line tests that means I'm not overweight. Which I really don't know how to take or how it affects my self image.
Incommunicado. Packing bag.
Support Einstuerzende Neubauten? Hell, yes!
It's all arranged. I start on Tuesday. Must remember I now once again have a boss who knows where this site is. (Hi Bill!).
I am meeting prospective colleagues today. If the interview goes well I can start work immediately. After London, naturally. Scary. Time to switch my night/day rhythm. Quickly. If you're interested, here's an explanation of the mad Dutch broadcasting system.
Wherever you are: "Alliteration is the last resort of the desperate."
I was looking for images of St Pancras station in London as I may be meeting up with a friend there when I found Great Buildings Online which is just fab.
Tonight we're going to blog like it's 1999? Plasticbag.org is three years old like myself and Tom writes: "I don't think the future will contain as much about my personal life, because I think after a while the more you write about something, the thinner it gets... It's like you wear it out. After a while you want something that's just for you - that's yours alone and that you share with no one."
CSSBook.com - Designing CSS Web Pages by Christopher Schmitt. (Chris is one of U2log.com's silent editors.)
"I was lucky enough to cut my teeth with Beckett, no mean translator himself. He always helped me surmount every little obstacle - one day I plan to publish the correspondence, as his letters to me often went beyond the translations - and taught me that he himself never translated himself literally." Great post on Yeats, Becket and translation from the inimitable Miguel Cardoso, at MetaFilter.
I'm guessing Blogger's got no funds to pay a designer to restyle Blogger.com so they're asking you, rockstar designer, to do it for your country, for justice and for the safety of puppies... and Christmas. Right?
I've been living on another planet (ahem) and had completely missed the news that Dutch ISP planet.nl is reorganising, cutting 175 jobs, including most of their content desk. Two of my mates work there and they must feeling pretty crap right now. It might be time for a big dinner 'n' drinks type thingie to help cheer 'm up.
Sinead's playing Utrecht in January. Ticketsales start the day I'm in London to see her. Time to fire off some emails to unsuspecting friends.
Wheee. Looks like crossing fingers worked. I'm talking 'job', if you hadn't already guessed, and it's the kind of job and the kind of company I was looking for. I don't know what this is going to mean for my work on the book. Perhaps it's just a case of "I'll work harder, said the horse". Which is good, I've missed that. And it's about time, because by god am I getting lazy. Hope we can work out the details.
It hasn't sunk in yet - though I have been making vague gestures towards my travel bag -, but I'm going over to London this week (thank you Mr Mastercard). This to compensate for not having had any kind of a summer 'holiday', i.e. not having been abroad. I will be seeing Sinead O'Connor in concert (first time since '88, a full concert that is) and enjoying the lovely company and hospitality of Mr Hoppy and Mr'n'Mrs Hg. I am looking forward to... a proper cuppa, an "all day breakfast", fresh undies from M&S and the river by night.
UpMyStreet » The real-life guide to your neighbourhood: Tom plasticbag's new project and really, a lovely idea: "UpMyStreet Conversations allows you to meet and talk to people in your area."
Metafilter Custom Baseball Shirts. I'm tempted, but the government seems to be a bit slow in sending me my social.
... fingers crossed.
Many thanks to the wonderful Tom for getting me out of bed this morning. [ ... ] You see, the postman rang (more than twice) to deliver his wonderful package (ooh er). Full of UK goodies, like "Buffy magazine" and "Dazed and Confused" and "Bowie, David". I don't know which one to drool over first.
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I love this slightly surreal picture of myself and my mum (in Spain, I think), the both of us showing off the family scowl.
I didn't even know Boy George had a new album out. U Can Never B 2 Straight features unplugged reworkings of older songs from Cheapness and Beauty and some songs from his musical, Taboo. The subject matter's straightfoward (heh): "this record is sexually confused". I'm kind of loving it because it showcases his lovely voice. On "Julian" he's almost in Jimmy Scott's range, but the Brechtian/Nina Hagenesque opener "Ich Bin Kunst" (dedicated to Leigh Bowery) is just a bit too much "hey I wannabe Marc Almond and Gavin Friday with a better voice". If you can, check out the wonderful "If I Could Fly", you may have seen him do it on Later with Jools a few years back. "Stone by the river, got no wind in my sail, No revolutions in my soul, Hey, revelation's just a moment away, Soon I'm gonna be old, soon you're gonna be old." Stunning.
Having a soft spot for Elton John is probably exceptionally uncool. I. don't. care. So he's MOR and middle class and he kisses royal arse, but I think he's got a unique voice and is an extraordinary British talent. I hadn't got round to checking out his latest album. Not that I keep track of what he puts out, but this one got some good reviews and did I ever like the single, "I Want Love" and its beautiful video (starring Robert Downey Jr). I've been listening to the album, Songs from the West Coast, today and I'm just amazed that a man who has been in the business so long and has had a career of tantrums and tiaras, silly specs and ill conceived marriage can still sound so simply hungry for music. Applause.
I love the net. For little labours of love like this: Eltonography.com.
Found a copy of David Bowie in Concert, Maida Vale studios, 2002 recorded from digital radio. Lovely way to start a Sunday. Bowie does The Bewley Brothers (first time EVER, he says) and Alabama Song. It's brill. Anyone wants a copy (70 minutes), let's know. (so, so happy with my burner!)
Maybe it's a good thing, being made redundant from the web building world. I haven't looked at code or drooled over a Flash site or worried over cross platform compatibility or been to K10K in many many months. It feels more natural not too. The other day I was seriously considering removing web building tools from my computer, but didn't because I'm obviously going to have to maintain some of my sites out there. "It's karma, Caroline, maybe you're meant to write," himself said not too long ago, and I wanted to hug the man and shower him with worldly goods and heavenly praise, but I'm not sure about it myself. I suppose I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
Colourful post at WHEDONesque.
Irish Echo Online - Arts... yay, more publicity.
Things I'm learning in acting class: I'm good on my own, a little less in pairs and often confused in larger groups. (Hey, just like in real life.) In exercises I like to be the first to go on, if not I tend to be of the last. I like having a fixed text to work and play around with, but I suck at improv. (I was so grateful when the teacher finally got out some text for us last night) I seem to be good at timing and pacing and I'm not afraid of making silence work for me in the scene. I get upset when people jump on my lines because they're interpreting my silence as their cue. Sign me up for that soliloquy.
Also: awwwwwwww.
That's the third time I hear the word freon in the last two weeks, once in Buffy, once on "The Weakest Link" and now on Merel's website.
Cool Baz Luhrman "lecture" on the new Fox Searchlight website, I haven't watched it all yet, but he's talking about theatrical ("red curtain") cinema as opposed to keyhole cinema (has to do with audience awareness). The guy's just one notch below hyper... reminds me of Paul Verhoeven, who may just be one notch up. The site's been redone by Zeldman and Co. I can't wait till Jim Sheridan's "In America" (for Fox) comes out next year, as Gav's done the score for it and I'm looking forward to seeing it promoted on the Fox site.