October 2005 Archives

My $#*&*%$!! Nokla 3650 broke at exactly the wrong moment, on the eve of the funeral. With a cousin who doesn't know his way around Amsterdam driving down from Paris to pick me up in the morning. So instead of taking the time, as planned, to sort out which new telco and service to pick (as my current sub is due to end soon) I had to rush into town to get me something really quickly. The sales boy (so young I can't possibly call him a man) had an easy time with me rushing into buying something off him. Still, he didn't expect me to ask what OS the phones had. Isn't that his job to know?

And so I ended up with that damn Sony Ericsson K750i (with the 2.0 mp camera in it) that all my mates seem to have and another TWO years stuck with KPN (to cut down the price on the phone) since I couldn't afford a whole lot right now. 'Annoyed' doesn't describe it. I had been thinking of switching to T-mobile. And sticking with Nokia, but they didn't have any of the pretty models.

My home phone is dying as well, most of the time I don't notice. My cousin just rang and I could barely make out his question through the flakey connecton: 'what about flowers'. And I hadn't thought of that at all and god dammit we're a fucking useless family, but I think, or I hope we can just about order something in time tomorrow morning via Interflora. And those bastards don't half rip you off for a funeral wreath, do they? Christ.

Fucking. useless. us.

One thing I'm not doing is panicking over what to wear, the quintessential funereal stress. My calculating self picked up something suitable in New York.

 
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Would I sell whedonesque.com for $311,626.08? Hell yes.

Sometimes the end truly is relief. My uncle died this morning at 9AM. Peacefully, just after going back to sleep, which is more than I could have hoped for the way things were going.

Within minutes of going through customs (all those questions make me
nervous!)  I had hooked up with my travelling
companion at Newark Liberty International Airport Train Station. A name
longer than its actual size warranted. We had landed almost
simultaneously, different carriers. Someone had warned me Continental
would be 'crap', but I've nothing but good things to say about their
handsome and friendly staff. Plenty of food and drink was made
available, quite unlike my previous experience on a transatlantic journey
ten years ago with Air Kuwait.


The New Jersey air was hot and humid, tropical even, the remnants of some storm fizzling out over the area. I
was, of course, wearing the wrong clothes. Newark Airport's neighbourhood
isn't the most attractive, so I focussed instead on the people on the train and
their accents, so familiar from the TV series I used to watch. The guy
checking the tickets was a real character. In his early 30's, but the
demeanor of a 50 year old. Pants three sizes too big for him. He must
have checked our tickets three times during the twenty minute ride into
Penn Station, meanwhile talking ball (the Yankees playing the 'Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim') with the passengers. 'Next stop: Secaucus'.

I'm apprehensive about going places I've never been, which is odd for
someone who was sent off on daytrips to London or Zurich on her own at
the age of 16 and who'd already been to Brasil, Canada, Indonesia and
parts of Africa before that. Somewhere, somehow I lost a lot of
confidence and though getting to the hotel was dead easy, I was glad to
have someone with me who'd been before and could at least navigate the
grid.

Our hotel, the Chelsea 'Star', didn't deserve the accolade. Hostel-type
bunk beds in a tiny and smelly room, but at the price we paid and at
literally a stone-throw away from Madison Square Garden we couldn't
really complain. I think we went on a recce immediately, but nothing
even hinted at the U2 concerts that were taking place at the MSG that
week. It was the start of the hockey season and they were decking the
hall with blue and red bunting, in honour of the city's Rangers. We
picked up our will call tickets for the U2 shows (The lady at the box
office was both funny and helpful. Service, what a great concept) and
were told that 30
dollars we could see that evening's game from the 'good' seats. Yes,
excellent nosebleed seats, no doubt.

My uncle is dying. He's got tubes coming in and out of every orifice and the cancer's that attacked his lungs is now eating away at his bowels. But he's strong and stubborn and not ready to give up.

He doesn't speak a lot now, except for 'ow!' and wacky, childlike comments on his basic needs and functions. He says he farts in the name of Jesus. It's the morpine talking.

I hold his hand as he sings to me, 'bella Carolina' and says he wants to be buried with his sister, my mum. Not sure how his wife, standing behind me, feels about that.

He says I'm his favourite and everything he owns is mine. I see the funny where there is none. He owns nothing.

I leave even if he asks me to stay, because I can't take much more of this. He speaks English when he says he loves me. But we are too alike and all my life I could never love him back.

Ashamed, I say love him too, in Dutch.

 
Anton Corbijn, Virgin Megastore, Times Square, October 8.



'Still keep in touch with Gav?'

Yes, Anton, I do.

UPC is changing its digital TV package and for once, it's to my advantage. The (total) price is going down (no more separate bills for analog and digital) and I will be getting a few more channels, including (huzzah!) BBC 3 (new drama, comedy) and BBC 4 (culture, arts, science). I'll never have to leave the house again.

It rained a solid six days while I was in New York. That was a bit of a downer, especially when it was so bad there was nothing else to do than stay in our incredibly whiffy 'hotel' room. It took me a few days to get used to the city, its advertising, the cabs and the sirens, its cops, 24 hour culture, 31-derful flavours and in oh my gawd we trust. By the time I felt aclimatised, it was time to go home.

One thing I got used to very quickly. Tasty food and snacks everywhere, at all hours, for next to nothing. (Bless the strong Euro.)

Now I'm home, not terribly jet-lagged at all (yet) and there are family matters to attend to. 'Hours or weeks.' That kind of thing.

NYC is overwhelming.

Apparently there is a terror alert on the NY subway. Gah.

We had 30,000 pagehits at Whedonesque.com yesterday, that's 10,000 more
than our last record. Big fandom brouhaha today, utterly tiresome. I'm
up to my neck in all things Whedon, so it is going to be very strange
to be pulled back into U2 fandom next week. Fortunately, the band has
been playing a few new songs in the set. With four gigs on our menu,
hopefully we'll catch most or all of those songs. Despite their tour
continuing, it's been quiet re: U2, it's the first and second legs that
get all the press. Now that they've returned to the States to play the
third leg, the pressure is off and they are under less scrutiny and can
relax a bit on stage. That makes for better shows for the jaded fan.



Anton Corbijn has an exhibition on in NYC next week, what wonderful timing of ze tall and famouz. He's doing a signing session too, so hopefully I can pick up a copy of his new 'Directors' DVD and get it signed.



I hope I can go see Serenity again in NYC, but am not sure if I can
talk anybody into going. It really is a fabulous movie that deserves to
be seen by a larger audience. I'm not sure how to entice them -
probably 'Imagine Star Wars with real actors, real dialogue and real
emotions. Without Jar Jar.' (It's better than the Lord of the Rings
trilogy too, and that's because Whedon writes more relevant stories
than Tolkien does. But I won't say that out loud. Oops, now I have.)

I had a double scare today when 1. I couldn't remember whether I need a visa for America. (I don't) 2. I couldn't find my passport. (I found it)

Looking for visa information I hit upon some Dutch travel tips for the USA. Halfway through I found this eye-rolling passage:

'Overigens mag u in restaurants ook gewoon vragen om een glaasje water; dit is (meestal) gratis, en niemand kijkt er raar van op. Dat scheelt toch weer een dollar of twee. (You can ask for a glass of water in restaurants, most of the time it's free and nobody will be surprised. That'll save you at least a dollar or two.)'

Elsewhere on the page we are told not to use your mobile phone, or the hotel phone to ring The Netherlands, because it's really, really expensive!

Or you could just go and, you know, ENJOY yourself.

I am beyond tired. So tired was I yesterday, at the end of the day, I was afraid I could not complete my tasks when (I usually finish with hours to spare. Simple things were taking me twice as long or more. You know when you're supposed to do or read something and you just sit there looking at the screen unable to comprehend what's written, unable to act or make decisions? That tired.

If I could, I'd sleep all day. Unfortunately, I have the weekend shift. I hope nothing out of the ordinary happens. Basically, if the world exploded, I would not be able to respond. I wouldn't care either.

This total mental shutdown always happens when I haven't been on a break for a while and I've got one coming up. It's like athletes who stop running full speed before they cross the finish line.

There's a bad Trojan on my laptop. (I switched from payed McAfee to free AVG anti-virus software.) The removal instructions are damn complicated. People who create these Trojans should be shot. I don't understand how they can live with themselves.

I now have to take four types of drugs per day (thyrax, simvastine, amaryl, pizotifen) to combat hypothyroidism, cholesterol, diabetes and migraine. It's difficult to remember when to take what. The idea of having to take them all is depressing. I wonder what happens if I don't. A few years off my lifespan?

Traders at Dutch 'Marktplaats' do my head in. I don't want to hold the seller's hand, talk about their lovely wares, try to arrange a meeting and finally have the item be sold to someone else before a meeting ever takes place. Much prefer eBay, much more efficient. You either win the item, or not. No fucking endless negotiating.

I have just one and a half more days at work followed by a glorious 12 day break.