mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

this world is no fun

This has not been a good week. I had such high hopes, but alas, they've all been crushed underfoot and nothing has gone to plan and I seem to be under the most dreadful jinx - I can't even walk into my room without sending all my dvds flying.

From a friend: Clive appears on outmoded technology.

Sigh. What ever happened to that age of wonders? You know the one: concordes, hovercraft, hydrofoils, men on the moon and polaroids. It was all happening and groovy. Now I can't even get on my thirty year old bus home for all the other thousands also trying to get on, and then sitting in traffic for the course of me natural. Whatever happened to all that promise of tomorrow's world? Now it's just the lyrics of London Calling writ large. Sigh.

Sorry, yesterday was crap and today isn't fun. Always annoying folks is away, but not enough. I was so looking forward to some sneaky writing. James Hathaway, you heartbreaker, you.

Yesterday was really, really crap (the two hour phone call to the bank wasn't even the lowlight). I've had to delete what I'd written three times so far. It was a shitty day and then it took me nearly five hours to get home. And I missed Rome. It was misery. Can they please to be fucking off now (I try to be live and let live but I've had enough, I really have).

Oh well, at least this morning when the bus terminated in a different postcode, as it has been doing on account of they who shall not be named, I was prepared and I managed to pick up my shopping on the way past the shops (because I had had enough last night and just pushed my way off the bus and went home, even though I was in dire need of certain consumables).

I've abandoned plans to go see Dark Knight this week, too. Too much hassle, especially as routine activities such as "shopping", "lunch" and "commute" are proving impossible. Lets not add a complication, eh? So I'll try and get to see it next week. Damn, I was looking forward to it. I'll have to content myself with something from the dvd backlog :) (not a hardship at all).

Annoyed about missing Rome though. It's the one where Vorenus goes cursing the gods again (because it worked out so well the last time, as poor Titus tries in vain to remind him) and being all badarse. Worse, I missed the mutual beard shaving scene. Is that meant to be extra-textual, like when Willow and Tara do "spells" together, or am I just watching it wrong?

Anyway, I did play back the episode of Cracker the Peanut Gallery had taped for me the other day. You know the one, with young Simmo as homicidal gaol bait. Yep, that one. Still cheesy fun, even if one could pause to raise a concerned and very PC eyebrow (not that I have one, but if I did) over the old all gays are homicidal nutjobs and deserve to die plot (cf Willow and Tara).

Nevertheless, I found myself watching it, rather than pottering around while it played away, maybe because I was tired, probably because I was tired, but it stopped me screaming (internally at least), and that can be no bad thing.

Speaking of gay homicidal nutjobs, is there any chance I can do some sneaky typing? None, huh? Bastard.

Oh, I am so not getting home tonight. Pity, as I was thinking of letting the IQ take care of the usual suspects and indulging in something from the dregs of young Fox's cv or maybe an old Morse, or both, as I seem to be suffering terribly under slash interruptus.

I did catch 15 minutes of Morse this morning (and this week 15 mins of anything I actually want to watch is golden) and spotted a disturbingly young Martin Clunes - all that blond hair! Scary stuff. At least I got to see Lewis explode at one snide comment too many again. Heh.
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Thursday: Finally, I have Ashes to Ashes. Three episodes in, and yeah, it's not Life on Mars, is it? Biggest mistake was cutting the balls off Gene. Yes, he still gets to hoon about on four wheels, but basically the poor man has been pussy whipped. It's just not becomming and it's just not Gene. And why he keeps trying with the ocverures of friendship to shrill little Alex is beyond me (he must really miss his Sam).

And I do wish Alex would stop calling him Hunt - it reminds me of just how much Ashes reminds me of Hunter, which is bad, very bad, and yes, I've seen Hunter, it was BC - before cable - and a regrettable acquaintance was deeply into it at the time so I watched out of politeness. Hated every minute and Ashes does itself no favours reminding me of it.

Such a shame. At least the music was cool. Or it was, until they broke out the Bucks Fizz. Arrrgh!

Just back from the Frank Hurley exhibition. I love his photos and this was real National Geographic stuff. Of course, there were questions raised then and now about him nicking stuff and the artificially posed quality of his pictures (but it's not like they don't artfully stage local festivals in modern docos and bully the locals). Besides, the locals were neither helpless of guiless (especially as they often sold him old masks or made him brand new ones, and he did pay for most of the stuff).

Anyway, leaving aside culture clash and colonial exploitation aside for a bit (it was 1921 afterall), I was just impressed by the range and imagination of the headdresses, necklaces, belts, braclets, beads, hats and bags and masks. Wonderful shots of neat little villages with the houses all in a row, the big long hut in the middle (the huge community hall) and the little white mission church always off away up on a hilltop. There were young warriors, sad looking old guys and, horrors, young, bare breasted girls (quick! call the police!). There were also piles of skulls which weren't ancestors but enemies - they wouldn't sell the skulls as the government had just outlawed head hunting and they couldn't replace them. That was kinda creepy in the best sideshow kinda way. Seriously impressed by those badass dudes and their skull collection (hardly helpless or timid folk, by the evidence).

But mainly I was there to wonder at the native costumes and craftmanship and the patterns and designs and sheer inventiveness and dig the crazy old black and white silent film of women farming and men making and paddling canoes, images captured of a loft world, no matter how much it was staged for the camera. It made me think I was back in geography/anthroplogy class (and hey, anyone who isn't a friggin Kalahari bushman is okay by me). I loved the big stone axes and the stone club, which was a stone ring slotted onto a pole. I've seen similiar stone coits elsewhere, I wonder if that was their purpose, too. The canoes were huge, btw, full on sea going long boats.

I also loved the bullroarers. Much more decorative than the NT ones I've seen (and handled, for shame, as it is a sacred male thing, but I didn't know then, no wonder my life sucks).

Anyway, it's still a bit weird being home alone, especially as the house creaks and carrys on, but I had Gene, the Doctor and Ewan to keep me company. and Joseph Millson was in Talk To Me. Why does no one tell me these things?
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Tags: gene hunt, inspector morse, rome

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