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saturday, august 12

» Dubious claim to fame: I went to school with Daniele Dichio. He was a few years below me, though, I think. And I don't remember him being espeically good at football.
10:39:54 PM

» Tom seems to be counting down to something. I have my suspicions about what he's up to, but far be it from me to spoil the surprise. Of course, I could be completely wrong, too. There's always that.
10:37:44 PM

» ...and in completely unrelated news, linky love to Elissa and the lovely Laura (again), simply because they were nice about me/my weblog/my new design in my guestbook. I'm so easy to buy off, aren't I? Flattery will get you everywhere. Promise.
7:51:30 PM

» Sit down. Relax. Eat biscuits. Chill out.

It's all about perspective. It's all about expectation. A step back, a bit of perspective reveals that I'm only being let down my my own expectations again.

I had been operating today under the expectation that I was going to have the house to myself for a big chunk of the weekend - one flatmate going to Slough, one to Brecon, and Joh spending time with Celeste, doing London. So when I got in tonight and found the house fuller than I had anticipated - in fact, fuller than the sum of its usual inhabitants, I was pissed off. I felt unwelcome.

But perspective reveals I was the one with the misguided assumption. My fault, then. Step back, be calm, don't rise, don't engage.

My philosophy these days? Expect nothing, hope for nothing. Then if gestures remain undone, words unsaid, nothing is lost. And every pleasant act or word comes as a nice surprise. Cynical? Moi?
7:42:03 PM

» I am traumatised. I have just discovered that a piece of music I learnt to play on the piano about nine years ago, and have loved ever since, is by the shuddersome Canadian Pat Metheny, a man who I once accused of even making lift music sound good. Oh dear. Now I don't know what to think.
6:19:19 PM

» It's a bloody hot day, I've just schlepped back with heavy shopping from the hell that is Kilburn High Road on a Saturday afternoon, and I've got into the house and realised (not for the first time) that overpopulation is a problem. There are simply too many people in my living room for me to want to deal with at the moment, at least two of whom will probably read this later. Sorry. I'm too hot and tired and harrassed, and there are too many strange/strained relationships in there. Quite aside from wanting to be able to relax in my own space, I can't help feeling that the time is definitely coming to move on. This week, I'm going to start looking for a place of my own. I swear.
6:10:25 PM

» Overheard:

A: You taste of smoke
B: oh, sorry...
A: ...but I don't care [smiling].
11:59:24 AM

» Late night in South London at Iain's housewarming party. Fun, but knackering.
11:56:49 AM

friday, august 11

» Alright, already. Dave, the voyeuristic little slut, has requested that I snap a sneaky webcam picture of the aforementioned buff young interloper, since (as he quite rightly points out) if I'm going to inflict orcine Mennonites on the blogging community, then Chachi's the least I can do.

Fair enough. I consider myself one step closer to being karmically cleansed.
4:04:05 PM

» Do you know the difference between external and internal voices? I apparently don't. Charging into the office late today, after another frustrating rendezvous with the washing machine fucktards (honestly, people will begin to talk), headphones blaring X-fm, I discovered I have a new desk neighbour - a buff, bleached young thing in a chachi-ed T-shirt, dodgy facial hair and big grin. And I, apparently, saw him and said (very loudly) "ooh, a fresh one." He blushed horrendously, and I realised then the difference between internal and external monologue. Dear me, I'm going to get a reputation.
2:00:30 PM

» I am going to be stuck down by lightning. Official. After yesterday's baiting of fat mennonites and pimpin' popes, there seems to be little chance of a karmic reprieve. Oops.
8:50:25 AM

thursday, august 10

» Good grief. This man used to be (and possibly still is) the warden of Aberdeen Youth Hostel, where I worked for a few summers when I was at uni. Blimey. My ex-boss doing voiceovers, eh? Well I never.... Listen to the demos, by the way, they're classic.
6:01:11 PM

» For reasons I can't even begin to explain, I have a strange yearning to listen to the Hustle. And possibly do it. But I'm making no promises.
5:35:03 PM

» OK, someone pulled me up on my box of frogs similie back there. Sorry. But I love similies - especially ones you make up. My favourite is "Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever." Hehehe.
5:28:01 PM

» Dalston Daze reports on cat-killing tendancies. That's killing by, not of - don't go getting your knickers in a twist. My cat, Bob, used to be extremely ferocious (not exactly on a par with, say, a cougar or panther or anything, but for a fat moggy, not too sluggish...) until he tried to tackle a large truck. He survived, but has never been quite the same since. Actually, that should probably read "he's never been quite as sane since", because he's patently as mad as a box of frogs since the accident. Anyway, the last thing he caught and delivered to me was a slug. Not too impressive. And not too welcome, either. Trust me, being woken up by a cat with a slug dangling from its mouth comes rather low on my list of preferred morning activities.
5:06:40 PM

» Whale watching update: Hot-desking bearded yank seamonster is playing space invaders. I kid you not. It may be time to relax that whale-hunting ban.
4:40:26 PM

» There is an Amish whale sitting opposite me. And I am scared. See, occasionally, Americans come and work out of the London office for a couple of days or hours. The desk opposite me is currently empty, and that means that today (as I did last thursday) I have an amish whale sitting opposite me.

OK, slight clarification: he's not actually cetecean. And he's no Mennonite. But he is enormous, in the way that only Americans can be, and heavily bearded, in the way only religious sects know how. And he jiggles as he types. Oh, lordy, how he jiggles.

Last Thursday, I was bored. No big whup; I'm frequently bored in the office - who isn't? I was talking via AIM to Luke and Joh, trying to get them to believe that I was staring a large sea mammal in the face, but they were having none of it. So I got busy with the webcam, and eventually managed to surreptitiously harpoon snap the elusive beast just as he nodded off. Guess all that jiggling musta tired him out. It was a long fight, and I had to use all of my wiley ways to do it, but I got it. I captured a sleepy Amish whale. Just call me Cap'n Ahab, me hearties.

[incidentally, although I've put the pic up, I'm still kind of paranoid in case Moby Dick here tail-flips his way over the desk partition and sits on me. Mind you, I suppose if he did that I could just show him a button or something. Shudder.]
2:41:11 PM

» When I was about 18, I used to be able to drink to excess, and then sleep until four in the afternoon the next day. These days, I drink to excess, and then wake up at six in the morning, grumpy, tired, dizzy, hungover and unable to go back to sleep. Is this a medically proven side effect of getting older, I wonder?
12:58:27 PM

» Dave invents a new poetic form, just for me - the hungover megku:

Alcohol bites Meg
Clutching her to its bosom
Bound to feel manky

I like that. Add your own.
9:58:47 AM

» Extremely tempted to crawl under my desk and go to sleep. And it's only 9.30am. This does not bode well.
9:30:01 AM

»

"The British have an umbilical cord which has never been cut and through which tea flows constantly. It is curious to watch them in times of sudden horror, tragedy or disaster. The pulse stops apparently, and nothing can be done, and no move made, until "a nice cup of tea" is quickly made. There is no question that it brings solace and does steady the mind. What a pity all countries are not so tea-conscious. World-peace conferences would run more smoothly if "a nice cup of tea", or indeed, a samovar were available at the proper time."

Marlene Dietrich - Marlene Dietrich's A B C (p154).
9:27:13 AM

» Meg's midweek hangover remedy^TM:

• Ribena. Lots of it.
• Bread. Plain. Preferably fresh.
• Tea. Buckets of it.
• Music. Soothing. Through headphones.
• Nurofen. Two.
• Shower. Hot.
• Action. Get out of bed.
• Distraction. Do something.

Unfortunately, I've only managed two of the above so far. Stick with me. It's going to be a long morning.
8:35:29 AM

» I am, in fact, so evil, that I not only corrupt pictures of childhood heroes - I also post the same blurb twice. Eeeeeviiiilll.
12:38:15 AM

» OK, let me now just take full responsibility for Joh's hangover this morning. It's all my fault. I am an evil, evil woman.
12:30:50 AM

» OK, let me now just take full responsibility for Joh's hangover. It's all my fault. I am an evil, evil woman.
12:30:40 AM

wednesday, august 9

» Sounds like Johanna could do with these instructions on how to destroy your computer (the sensible way). Of course this way is much more fun, but the whine of the powerdrill can be so offputting to work colleagues.
5:56:04 PM

» "There is beauty in the ad lib, in the improvisation of culture and life."

See SAM.
2:42:54 PM

» I think I mentioned ages ago about how much of a failure I was at being a goth. Although I went through a phase of wearing long black tassled skirts, dying my hair, clumsily putting on too much black eyeliner and dancing with arms akimbo to All About Eve, I was actually far too healthy-looking to enter into the realms of true gothdom. Also, my mum wouldn't let me paint my room black which, on reflection, I have to applaud her for.

And speaking of applause, I have to give some to the person who thought that Winnie the Goth was a good story concept. I always thought Eeyore would have made a much better goth, frankly...
12:16:02 PM

» After German women complained about the sexual technique of their men, the blokes hit back:

"Men are visual creatures -- and before you slap a quarter-pound of make-up over your faces, it would be better if you took a trip to the solarium, shaved your legs and thought a bit more about what men need,''

...because, you see, saying things like that is instantly going to redeem you and make you more attractive in the eyes of the female population. Achtung, baby - you're turning me on...
11:38:37 AM

» What I wouldn't give for the mere opportunity....
11:33:22 AM

» Philip Glass produces some amazing stuff (Metamorphoses, Koyaanisqatsi). But wheras his style of music kind of works when he does it, or in context, it doesn't exactly lend itself to the cover version or remix.
11:21:19 AM

» Lessons I have learnt the hard way #3 [in an ongoing series]:

Surprise fire alarm test + toilet cubicle = prolongued ringing sensation in the ears and/or deafness.

Sigh.
10:35:32 AM

tuesday, august 8

» After charging through Stephenson's In the Beginning was the Command Line, I'm now enormously enjoying Cyptonomicon. Dammit, it's fantastic. So all the people who told me I should read it can now rest smugly in their beds...
9:24:06 PM

» For the education of the lovely Dave and any other mystified crackwhore virgins (er...so to speak), the term isn't the same, but the sentiment is. Kinda.
7:51:05 PM

» OK, by popular demand, the top of this page is now adorned by some biccies. Dunk-tastic.
5:03:11 PM

» Strange things afoot in my bedroom: in the process of tidying up last night (with a big pitchfork), I found a two-bulb packet of garlic, in a shoebox next to my computer. I have absolutely no memory of how it got there, although I had been wondering what the strangely pungent whiff in that corner of the room was. Subconscious anti-vampire measures, perhaps? Very strange.
4:40:21 PM

» I'm faintly perturbed about the white space in the centre left up at the top there, between the mug and the teabag. Any suggestions of what to put up there much appreciated...
3:49:08 PM

» Oh, did I mention the Crackwhore Fistmonkeys of Doom^TM? With a name that great, how could it fail (whatever "it" is)? Luke and I have some truly fucked up ideas, sometimes....
3:44:50 PM

» ...and me, too.
3:25:05 PM

» Flu-ridden Dave wants to know the origin of the much-overused-in-our-flat term crack whore. Well, Davo, it's like this: picture a mangy ho. Now picture same huffin' on a crack pipe. OK, think you've got the general idea now. Any other questions? ;o)
2:04:11 PM

» The location of the most famous kiss in Paris is no more. I remember being about 13 and thinking that the shot in question was wonderfully romantic. Of course now, years later, I pass couples doing much the same thing on the tube and just think "get a room, and get out of my way". Funny how things change.
1:45:53 PM

» Well, I think the redesign has passed the test - at least, I slept on it, and when I logged on this morning, I still liked it. So that's good.
9:37:20 AM

» A very British beverage-inspired redesign this time. I love tea. It rocks. Milk, no sugar, please.

"Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea."
T.S. Eliot - The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

There was nothing wrong with the last design, per se, but I just fancied a change. So consider this yet another vision and revision of this work in progress. Honestly, there's just no pleasing some people. Do let me know whether you think it's a reet proper brew or a stewed and nasty hospital waiting room effort.

A big cuppa and a choccy biccie to Luke for scanning strange objects for me and for ongoing experiments in blogging and tea, but not necessarily in that order.

"I am in no way interested in immortality, but only in the taste of tea." - Lu T'ung
1:33:30 AM

monday, august 7

» All this postmodern self-referential ironic navel-gazing is getting a bit bizarre. Production company World of Wonder is currently making a behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of Big Brother.

"Great fleas have little fleas/Upon their backs to bite 'em/And little fleas have lesser fleas/And so ad infinitum." Exactly.
11:55:21 AM

» Now that's what I call desperate: Woman stops to visit toilet in burning pub.
10:58:45 AM

» Oh bloody hell. As if it's not enough that Liza Tarbuck has left, now they're bringing back that talentless harpie Denise Van Outen to replace her.
10:50:15 AM

» Sad news: RIP, Sir Alec Guinness. Que la fuerza le acompagne...
10:45:52 AM

» New (well, new to me) industry buzzword:

Supportal: A supportal website is unique in that "by using all the various benefits of the internet, it deepens and supports the above-the-line advertising and promotion campaign" - Jon Bains, Chairman of Lateral.

(from a press release for the newly launched Boddingtons.com) (NB: they mis-spelt the URL in the release. Sigh.)
10:24:05 AM

» I want one.
12:41:38 AM

» I did something today that I haven't done in ages. I walked into Tower Records in Piccadilly Circus today, and they were playing a fab track. So I went up to the counter and asked who it was. The spanish cashier said it was Mira Calix, so I marched over to the dance section, grabbed the CD and bought it - on the strength of one phat track. On the way home, I worried that I might have been overly influenced by the air conditioning instore on a sweaty London Sunday, rather than the beats themselves....but after hearing it, I can confirm that it was a good move after all. I love it when that happens.
12:26:47 AM

sunday, august 6

» I've eaten this. It was surprisingly nice, once I'd got over thinking about my first pet GP, Debbie (crap name, I know) and the ethnocentric view that it's a pet, not food. In the andes they call them Cuy (pr: cwee) after the cute noise they make. Cuy! Cuy!
9:41:12 PM

» What is with that noise that only small children can make? The one that is kind of like a high-pitched shriek, and which can signify anything from "Give me attention" or "that hurts" to "I'm talking, please listen to me" or "that's fun". Whatever. Man, it's irritating...
9:29:35 PM

» Just saw Perfect Storm, a film I've been anticipating ever since it first went into production.

OK, before we go any further, let's get a few things out of the way:

• I read the Sebastian Junger book a couple of years ago, and loved it. I bawled my eyes out on the tube, truth be told.
• About six months ago, I also read The Hungry Ocean by Linda Greenlaw - the skipper of the Hannah Boden, sister ship to the Andrea Gail - so the sister book to Perfect Storm, in a way, I suppose. I loved it.
• I go to sleep frequently listening to the Radio 4 shipping forecast, broadcast at 00:50am each night. I find it infinitely soothing and reassuring, like a kind of mantra.
• I love sailing. One summer, when I was 19, I worked as first mate on a 92' schooner, sailing around Scotland and Ireland with young probationers and ex-offenders. I loved it.
• I think George Clooney is lush.

Right, back to the movie. My general opinion of it can be basically expressed in one word: bullshit.

The special effects were great; George was as hunky as you might expect in wellies and a jumper and the special effects were great. Oh, did I say that already? Well, they were.

But there was so much wrong with the movie, I don't know where to begin. See, the best thing about the book, the most moving thing, was the fact that it was so well researched and written, and left so much to the imagination. The film filled in all the gaps, and wrote a very definite story. Clearly, a film has to have a narrative (except for anything starring Jim Carrey) but it's a shame that this one's detracted so strongly from what was a stunning story in the first place. Rather than letting the story tell itself, it was conformed and constricted into a Hollywood script, Which, I guess, it was, after all. So maybe I should just shut up.

I won't go into the whole thing here, but suffice to say I was disappointed. I would heartily recommend that anyone read the original book, especially if you've already seen the film.

Ooh, I will just mention one really irritating thing, though (apart from the saccharine storylines at the beginning, and the presence of more than one wooden actor) - Wolfgang Petersen seems to be obsessed with the use of soaring strings and emotional overtures during moments of meteorological tension and climax. Which would be fine, except it gives the audience the distinct and rather unnerving impression that they are trapped in a lift. Hmmm. Not a wet eye in the house...
9:27:48 PM

» For the record, Luke is looking exceptionally ginger this morning.
12:54:08 PM

» This explains a lot. I must be related to the ancient Egyptians. Just call me Megertiti.
12:40:31 PM

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