Sunday July 21
Amongst my circle of friends, we all seem to be communicating as much via blogs and web postings and journals and homepages as by more "traditional" methods like email. (Is this the first citation of email as a traditional form of communication? Probably not.) While this removes an element of interactivity - it takes a higher technological knowhow to put up a web page than to compose an email, tools like blogger and moveable type are lowering that bar by the week. At the same time, Her Gtanuida is launching a campaign to find the Best British Blog. I won't be entering. Partly because their criteria for judging are rather old technology (useful links? To whom? And aren't some of the best blogs destinations in themselves?) Partly because it reinforces the false notion that British is something distinct from Global - a particularly jarring error for that newspriap. But mainly because a blog is complete in itself. The content is key - if the writing is interesting (as in kirsty's), or I know and respect the writer (completely random for instance) I'll visit and revisit. If it's sloppily edited, or just plain dull, I'll visit and go. My interesting is not your interesting.
Don't fuck with a tomato with attitude. (This may - or may not! - be a direct quote from the linked page. Gee, I'm obnoxious today.)
Who gives a flying fuck about the calendar? This week's Friday Five
1. Where were you born? New Cross Hospital, Wolverhampton. An incredibly depressing place, stuck away in an inaccessible backwater of the city.
2. If you still live there, where would you rather move to? If you don't live there, do you want to move back? Why or why not? There are too many bad memories tied up in that part of the world, and people I really don't want to run into.
3. Where in the world do you feel the safest? Safe enough here, but the safest I've ever been is St John's NF. One can *almost* leave cars and houses unlocked, at least away from the main routes.
4. Do you feel you are well-traveled? I'm always going to have a wanderlust, and there are places that attract me no end.
5. Where is the most interesting place you've been? Quite some years ago, I had a half day in Edinburgh during the festival season. Enough to whet the appetite, but nowhere near enough to sate. That's to where I'd go back. As for the place with most variety, well, Toronto entertained me for ten days without repeating itself much, and I reckon there's another fortnight's value there.
Caught the back end of an infomercial promoting the latest, most tedious, bore band. About eleven teens, clearly picked for their looks over an ability to speak in a language that approximates English, are muttering about how they've had such a good time and how they're all into helecopters and Cape Town (no, it makes no sense, but I have no idea wtf they were on about.) And how their record is all urban and groovy and stuff. No it's not, you pillocks, it's the darkly depressing Tha Crossroads
, a US #1 / UK top tenner for Bone Thugs and Harmony. The original is a soulful tribute to departed friends. The cover is crap in a way that deeply offends.
Still on the crap cover list, Celeb BB loser Claire Sweeney has done a cover of What If
when Kate Winslet's original is less than a year old and is still charting in Germany. Reet's singing ability was a very welcome revalation last year; Sweeney's inability to hold a note is less shocking, and I dread to hear what she'll do to I Hope You Dance
.
And which Madonna cover is better? Kelly Osbourne's grunge rock remake of Papa Don't Preach
has a certain something, but I'm drawn back to Mad House's contemporary versions of Holiday
and Like A Prayer
. Just so long as no one tries to cover Dear Jesse
we'll all be fine.
Saturday July 20
So, what's happened in my absence?
CNN's new look.
No video monitors now
Just dark grey and black.
The US is planning to recruit one in 24 United Stations as a citizen spy. The habit of being constantly suspicious of neighbours, co-workers, and others will become destructive. Down the line it will lead to suspicions based upon such subjective trivia as "fails to display sufficient respect for authority", "laughs whenever the phrase 'homeland security' is used", and "hangs out with anti-social misfits." Evidently the US has failed to learn the lessons of East Germany's Stasi, which adopted frighteningly similar tactics. The difference between the hyper-capitalist DDR and the USA blurs with every moment... [more]
Finally, a chance to shower somewhere sensible. To use my own shampoo, have essences of thyme and mint help remove a week's heavy metals, a week's sweat and heat and grease, a week's crap from London. To use my own shampoo, not the cheapo cheapo hotel crap that removes the dirt but leaves grease and those metals still around. Watch the rubbish of the week fall down the plughole. Keep the good things - the memories, the fun, the experience of walking faster than a bus - but let the rest of life's flotsam and jetsam go. Go. Go. Go.
Friday July 19
I've been in London all week, and here are my impressions and things wot I did.
Eateries. mybar, Bayley St off Tottenham Court Road. Nouvelle cuisine at its nouvellest, accommodation that is two parts minimalist to one part spartan. The food is pleasant, even though the portions are slightly lacking. It's not cheap, though.
Traineries. Vermin Trains from BNS to EUS. A complex journey, routed via Nuneaton. We didn't reckon on a 15 minute late departure from Brum, but that allowed me to catch a connection I'd otherwise have missed. Neither did we reckon on taking almost 3 hours to cover 2.25 miles into Nuneaton. "Points and signal problems" claimed the conductor, who went on to "apologise for any inconvenience this may cause to your journey." As if being stranded on a train in the middle of nowhere for more than the projected length of your journey isn't going to carve a big hole in your day. To add insult to injury, the buffet refused to serve free refreshments, as demanded under the customer charter, and closed less than half an hour after finally crawling out of the Warwickhire hell-hole. The Chiltern Railways Half Hourly begins August 3. See you there.
Spanneries. Regular visitors will be pleased to hear that the Milooneyum Bridge between Blackfriars and Modern Tat has finally opened. It's a gorgeous view, without any blocking wires, yet still wobbles just a bit. A new Hungerford Bridge, just by the London Eye, has also opened. It provides riverside views of Westminster.
Eateries. My Old Dutch, New Oxford St. Serves pancakes and sweet waffles in the traditional style of north west Europe. The recipes are a direct translation from the original, resulting in a high quality and very filling nosh in very pleasant surroundings. The prices are also a direct translation from the original, replacing ECU with GBP, but if you're prepared to splash out, this is a good bet.
Shutteries. Silver Moon, London's only women's bookshop, has closed and been replaced by a cut price store. Unprintable.
Cockasnookeries. Eating unch while sitting on the wall of the Inner Temple, alongside all the solicitors, bopping away to System Of A Down and Rocket From The Crypt on xfm. Ha!
Eateries. Food For Thought, Neal Place, near Covent Garden. Suitable veggie food, served in a cramped cellar. It's very popular, and if you can handle the intimate atmosphere - and an almost vertiginous trip down the stairs - the grub is worth the trek. Also do take away for those who prefer to eat at their desk.
Catchupperies. Meet up with Newt, one of my bestest friends from uni. We were, like, *there* when needed. For whatever reason, we've not clapped eyes on each other for almost five years, so there's a lot of catching up to do. She's finally stopped trying to date Tim, and figured that she just might prefer jumping in the sack with girlies. A conclusion some of us reached some years ago, but then she gets to say exactly the same back at me. Newt's grown up a lot, as have I, but she's still the same vulnerable person concealed with a show of bravado.
Wimpishery. The Underground goes on strike at 2000 Wednesday. Browsing the flagship HMV Oxford Street store at 1850, only to find that they're closing on the hour because of the labour disruption. I would have spent a good quarter hour looking round given the option, but evidently they don't want my custom. Their loss. I'd already found the UK SURVIVOR theme marked down to £2.
Oddity. Carlisle Street is schitzophrenic. One side is the unofficial epicentre of London's gay pubs and bars. The other side is home to Private Eye, the official centre of satire.
Strikeries. With the Tube out on strike, I get to laugh at the people vainly trying to hail a taxi in streets that are often gridlocked. Walking is always an option, especially on a day like this. What's even better is the free river boat service that the Mayor's office has laid on, taking people from Blackfriars to the Eye in about six minutes. That's twice as quick as the tube, three times as quick as walking, and about five times as fast as driving. And this must be the only form of free transport that has a fully licensed bar on board. Future visitors take note: the boat is the new tube.
Auraries. I'm not usually a fan of the homeless - not least because they tend to position themselves in such a way as to block the pavement or disrupt the smooth flow of pedestrians. However, when one young lady stops me and spills a tale of woe that I can't quite hear, this fades away. It's clear from her stance and tone and aura that she's in some major trouble. She gets the toonie that I've been carrying around for about three months, and somehow I feel that it's a lucky toonie. Hope she'll find whatever she's looking for.