Hot Club de Paris, Hey! Housebrick Video

While I'm waiting for my dinner, I thought I'd post this. Because it's good.

Review: the new Cadbury Twist

So here's the idea: a creme egg, but not in an egg shape. I bought one and ate it because I am a huge creme egg fan. Verdict: no where near as good as a creme egg. The texture of the chocolate is different, and the satisfaction of eating it is all wrong too.

The other good thing about creme eggs is that they're only available for a limited period each year, which is extremely good for my waistband.

Bucking the trend. In a very small way.

It may be shocking to hear this, but my hair has a strong "natural wave", which I've decided to do something with in order to save my hair from the terrible effects of straightening, and to save time too. For school my hair is invariably tied back simply because I don't have the effort or imaginative at 7.30am to do anything with it.

Anyway, today I walked through Eldon Square with my hair bordering on curly and noticed just how hideous the hordes of straight-haired girls has become. I felt stupidly liberated with my un-straight hair.

I hate talking about hair, so I'll stop now, but not before stating that I'm now on a quest to go wavy-haired to school and try to put forward the plight of healthy hair and hopefully stop a generation of females going bald.

That's right - feminism alive and kicking. Who, after all, has the time and inclination to do this?

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Simply a matter of work."

This random strategy is extremely prescient.

After school yesterday I went to an Open Evening at Sheffield Hallam Union in order to find out more about their MA Writing course. To be honest, I didn't learn very much, because the admissions tutor doesn't actually teach anything and didn't know what the writers/teachers actually do, but still, it's definitely something I want to do.

Basically, I have to perfect my writing submission to gain entry to the course, and the admissions tutor advised me to join a writing group (but didn't have any recommendations, and to be honest, the quality of such groups is too variable for me to risk going along) or go on an Arvon course. I might sign up to one of Sheffield University's "Lifelong Learning" writing courses instead.

It's interesting that perceptions of writing are based on sparks of inspiration, bursts of creativity and excitement, when in actuality most creative processes really demand a lot of hard work.

Anyway, if you're interested in any of my non-creative writing, I've been posting music-related blogs up on Shovelled Up Like Muck. I've got my own column too, called "I Wish My Personal Life Was as Organised as This", where I basically list things and write about them. I'm currently working on "Top 10 Over-Exposed Guitar Bands", which is a paean against the Radio 1 playlists being dominated by nondescript indie guitar wank. I need a tenth band though . . .

I feel semi-famous.

I emailed Phil Gladwin, the screenwriter who runs the Screenwriting Goldmine site, about some creative difficulties I was having, and he's posted our conversation up on his site here (with my permission, of course). He's given it the slightly melodramatic title, "Ideas that can KILL stories", but I suppose these screenwriting luvvies are wont to do such things.

My regular readers (I'm pretending that people other than my mam read this on a regular basis, rather than being referred by searches for "pope tea", amongst other things . . .) might recall that I went to Berlin over Easter. I wrote up a sort of travel diary while we were there, and this is from the actual journey into Berlin from the airport (which was massively complicated because parts of the S-bahn and U-bahn track were closed):

"At each wait for every bus or train I was worrying about invalidating our hostel reservation through lateness. At one point we were sat on a motionless train for about 10 minutes. Thankfully, I wasn't the only confused one: a boy of about 18 with bleached-blond hair and a pack on his back with a "National Youth Orchestra" sticker on it (I still say it was a bassoon) got out of his seat to scrutinise the map above the doors and said to us in a overly-concerned, Wirralite accent, "Is this train even going anywhere?" He was trying to get to Warschauer Strasse, which we'd never heard of. Once he calmed down and the train actually got going, we heard him babbling away on his mobile in German and were instantly jealous."

I bring this up now, because we were watching TV while eating dinner. The judges were deliberating Young Musician of the Year 2008, and the winner of 2006 came onto the stage to perform. I stared at the screen and said, "Ian, do you think that's —"
"Yes," came the reply.

It turns out that our Scouser in Berlin is in fact called Mark Simpson, and a clarinettist (damn it) who won when he was 17.

Bizarre who you bump into.

National Awareness Ridiculousness

Further to yesterday's post, have a look at the amazing days and weeks you can celebrate/be "aware" on this site here. There's trillions on here, just for the month of May.

My personal favourites:

11 - 17th May is both British Sandwich Week (WTF?) and National Breastfeeding Awareness Week, which will be great for all those people who feel uncomfortable around toddlers sucking nipples in their immediate vicinity.

21 - 25 May - Noise Action Week: "Noise Action Week raises awareness about noise" - erm?

23rd May - Friendship Day - bleeurgh

Apparently, as well as Compost Awareness, this week we should also be aware of deafness, honey and the Red Cross. Right.

Mark Wallinger's Proposal for Kent's "Angel of the North"

33 times the size of a normal horse. Mint.

Compost and nerdiness

You will all, of course, be extremely excited to hear that it is Compost Awareness Week. I dig composting, but that's because I've been a bit of an eco nerd since I was made "light monitor" at primary school (cue switching everything off at home and driving my brother mad for the next few years).

I'm also a gardening nerd. An unrepentant one at that. I can name more types of tree that most country-dwellers (me being a city child), and I'm getting pretty excited that my hostas seem to be thriving at the moment despite the rampant slugs and snails that patrol Sheffield gardens. The sunflower seedlings are starting to emerge for my planned sunflower hedge at the allotment, and our random anenomes in pots look ace.

I'll take pictures soon to prove it.

The only problem I have with Compost Awareness Week is its stupid name. It must be the done government thing to name everything "awareness week", regardless of what it is. For example, "Islam Awareness Week" was roundly mocked by a host of people - could non-Muslims be any more aware of Islam in the current climate?

The word "awareness" seems perjorative in this sense, as if "compost" were a sexually transmitted disease you needed to protect yourself from, rather than a good way to take the strain off your wheelie-bin. We should be "aware" of gonorrhea, but "educated" about recycling facilities for fuck's sake.

What's wrong with just a "National [insert topic here] week" or "[Insert cause] Education Day"? Or failing that, get rid of all these bastard days and weeks that mean nothing.

Which reminds me: I need to send off all the letters my Year 10s wrote asking the culture minister (Andy Burnham - I hadn't heard of him either) to adapt St George's day to National (or International - I'm not fussy) Shakespeare Day. Pork on a spit and ale up and down the country - sounds good to me.

WTF?

Boris! ROTFL!! LOLZZZ!!!! [etc etc]

Some things make me really relieved to be British:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/apr/29/italy1

I do have happy times, honest

Today I was part of the boring coursework moderation process for the entire day. Some of my pretend marks were fine, but others were hilariously far out, so yet again I'm back to feeling insecure.

I also faced some weird doubts from two people about my idea to assess GCSE Macbeth coursework using oral interviews rather than getting the kids to write yet another damned essay - they're bored and I'm bored, so what have we got to lose? "Ooh, it'd be very difficult and might actually take up more time than marking essays." / "The moderation process is really strict and it's quite hard for them not to lose marks"/"you'd have to do them one by one and use your lunch hours because you can't have a class of 32 doing something else."/etc etc

(I realise this is all extremely boring, but I need to vent.)

To top a dull day off, I went to the work room after school, looking for the cover work I'd set, and one of the older members of staff told me (in an extremely nice way) that I shouldn't have told any of my students about inflation and the teachers' strike because it could be construed as being "political". Firstly, by telling them about pay-related issues I'm actually teaching a bit of "Citizenship"; secondly, they knew I was going on strike anyway, so therefore they also already knew about my politics!

Whatever I do, I'm going to get criticised for it . . . I'm beginning to realise this now. But seeing as I actually have a personality, I'm going to have to develop a tough skin and battle on regardless.

I was told on Saturday by a girl I'd not seen for years that I was too cool to be a teacher. Too individualistic, that's for sure.

A Political Militant

I am on strike tomorrow. Not by accident, but because I actually voted for strike action. Doesn't it make every bit of sense for my salary to remain in line with inflation? It's not like my rent and food costs are not going to rise by 4.4% (or thereabouts).

Evidently, however, my strange upbringing (hanging out with other kids at local Labour Party meetings while the grown-ups talked about whatever), has rendered me incapable of seeing how disgusting taking strike action is.

I was hanging around in reprographics, waiting to get a ream of paper for the staffroom photocopier, but there was no one around except a fellow NQT (Science, PHD) who I've always found to be extremely supercilious and strangely pious. To make small-talk I asked if she was striking. No, she said, but was I? I said I was, and she took that opportunity(?) to espouse about how the very reason she didn't join the NUT was because of "things like this" and their "militant" reputation.

Militant reputation! She must have missed every news report, because everything I've heard and read says this is the first strike in over 20 years. I found it hilarious at this point cuttingly remark, "Well, I am from a militant background," to which she didn't respond, except to tell me that she saw herself as extremely privileged to be earning the money she was AND she'd taken a pay cut to teach.

She made some attempt to recover the conversation by then telling me, "But if you do get us a pay raise I won't say no!" I grimaced. I should have said, "But we're all so privileged. Won't you waiver your pay for the government to assign to those who need it more?"

What a twat. I will take every opportunity to give her ambiguous but possibly dirty looks in the future.

Berlin Pictures

I've just organised all my photos on Flickr and I can't be bothered to upload them again, so if you're bothered, you can click here then click the square Berlin picture on the right hand side to get them in the proper order.

I'm back from Berlin, but more about that later.

More importantly, we just saw the Sheffield University Challenge captain in Tesco! We were very excited because he was extremely clever. They only just got beaten in the final by some Oxbridge team. I would've said something, but I was grinning in far too inane a manner.

Now I'm on holiday and all the time is mine, I think I've got creativity stage-fright.

Brian says, "Use an unacceptable color," which, if I'm honest, isn't remotely helpful.

Prioritorise, Jess. Prioritorise.

PS. "ise" endings vs "ize". I always thought "ize" was American and therefore used "ise", but according to woman in my department, it's the other way round. I need to investigate and change my whole spelling system . . .

Edit: I wasn't wrong but neither were they. Wikipedia and this site say that "ize" is the only form used in America, while in the UK two-thirds of people use "ise", including newspapers and magazines. However, the OED and thus many academic journals insist on "ize". I'm more right than they were. Ha!

Get your Ryan Adams fill while you still can . . .

Ryan Adams has finished writing the songs for his new album and the new Cardinals album, and so the blog is apparently over.

I'm genuinely going to miss it. It's totally bizarre to read through the creative left-overs of someone famous as they're in the process of creating . . . and fascinating.

This is his last video, and apparently a song off his forthcoming album. Probably the best song he's shown for an age:


CROSSED-OUT NAME from Ryan Adams on Vimeo.

Perhaps the site will stay up even if he isn't posting any more. Probably not though.

Karaoke at The Old Crown

What an excellent way to spend the night of the last day of term.

I met up with my buddies from PGCE for a couple of ales (why can't I write "ales" without thinking about Richard E. Grant? "Ale" sounds so much better than "bitter" . . .) which was excellent. There wasn't too much depressing teaching chat, and I surprisingly wasn't as tired as I'd expected myself to be.

The Old Crown is immense. It's a favourite haunt of Pete and Tom because of the excellent atmosphere and the fact that the locals were characters worthy of stories: Stan (I think) who talked his way through his songs; a fifty-something woman clad in animal print who sang as if she had a life of lost love; an older woman with a soul-diva voice - truly great.

Pete was without doubt the best performer of the night, really getting into Dancing in the Dark and Living On A Prayer, and my other companions did sterling Oasis covers.

But the rotters put my name down while I was at the bar and suddenly "Jess" was announced. Being a good sport, I got up and did Tainted Love, with backing vocals by Tom and Paul. They were very nice about my performance afterwards, but it was a pretty surreal experience. I felt like I had no control over my voice, and I was hitting bum notes all over the place. Plus, it was pretty low for me, so I sounded like a boy.

For my public singing debut though, it wasn't too bad. Next time though, I'll be sure to find something in my range.

Sometimes . . .

. . . I come home and I have to behave in a really ludicrous way to remind myself of who I am.

Stupid dancing in the kitchen (MC Hammer via Turk from Scrubs sort of style), playing stupid guitar riffs and ridiculous drum beats, dressing in a strange outfit, putting my hair in bunches.

It's probably because the holidays are almost within reach, and because I've had so much marking and have been so tired lately, but I really feel like school robs me of my personality. I'm scared I'm going to start acting, at school, in more and more obtuse and idiosyncratic ways and get myself a reputation for being a complete fucking weirdo.

I like kids, but I still don't think anyone under 18 knows shit . . . so does it matter?

I'm too tired to care.

My Quilt

I've achieved two things today: 1) I've learned how to use the timer on my digital camera; 2) I've finally got some pictures of my quilt, which I finished edging last weekend. So I've been having a bit of a camera day and have been enjoying setting up my tripod and mucking around. Here's the roll:The quilt's in the background, but notice I'm getting horrible laughter lines . . . or maybe it's just creases from sleeping . . . Perhaps I went very foetal in my pictures to compensate for this aging. Actually, it's because I wanted as much quilt as possible in the picture whilst I was still in the frame.


I'm really pleased with the edges, and particularly my mitred corners, which I hand-stitched because I couldn't be arsed with the sewing machine. I had to pin the edging in place onto the quilt to check the fabric strips I'd made were exactly the right length. But my sewing machine isn't really big enough to cope with the weight of a whole quilt tugging on it, so it was easier to just sit on the floor and do it by hand.



Annoyingly, you have to reset the timer each picture, which isn't the most intuitive of processes and I therefore kept forgetting. There probably is a better way, but I haven't found it yet.


It's not exactly the most intricate of designs, but it's so big that it took me an age to make . . . and I like it.

Where is my Easter holiday?

Sometimes I think, by doing what I do, that I'm slowly killing off sections of my personality. Other times, I get to say things in school that make me feel me.

E.g. A Year 10 or 11 kid was trying to barge past some of my Year 7 form today and shouted at them, behind me, "Let me through, I'm more superior to you." I turned around, vaguely amused, and he looked really smug. So I said, "It's just 'superior' - it doesn't need 'more'." And continued walking.

I got to "own" other kids on several occasions today. But there are too many times when you feel your personality disintegrating as you wait for time to pass.

On a nice note though, I got to hold a wee baby today. And don't tell me I'm getting all broody just for mentioning it, because my male colleague in the English department was much more excited than me at getting to cuddle a very small child.

Babies' perfect, tiny hands are the best things in the world.

Oblique Strategy of the day

The most important thing is the thing most easily forgotten

Plus

Ryan Adams as an internet presence is back! You can find him at a new blog called "TOTALLY BORED the musical", which he seems to update constantly. There's already a new little video-ditty by him up there, plus a DJ Reggie tune you can listen to, amongst the usual poems and general ephemera - it's great!



Writing the Hits with Stupid from Ryan Adams on Vimeo.

Awful, awful weeks

How funny that the last thing I wrote on the blog was, "Trust in the you of now." This is amusing because I've been hugely paranoid, insecure, tired and generally feeling shit all this week and last.

I've had TWO complaints from parents in TWO weeks. The parents involved were fucking crazy weirdos and awful mothers, plus their complaints were ridiculous (setting up an extra SATS booster session and rearranging it for the girl in question to attend; telling another girl to be quiet as she entered the classroom), and yet I felt so victimised and on the defensive that I really believed I was terrible with kids and everything was pointless. On Monday, having to explain myself AGAIN to the deputy head after another stupid phone-call from the mother, I cried. I was so ill and tired and felt like packing the whole job in.

Having five days off now puts everything into perspective (plus my last lesson today was observed by the acting head and went extremely well), and makes me feel a lot calmer about actually having a personality and sometimes putting it to use in the classroom. For a start, despite the complaints from the wet-blanket kids, using sarcasm or just being quick actually helps bad children pay attention and focus. Plus, if the kids are scared that you'll "own" them (i.e. verbally and quick-wittedly beat them to a pulp in front of their friends in an amusing manner) they tend to make fewer ridiculous marks and ask fewer imbecilic questions.

Anyway, though I'm feeling better mentally, I'm still physically shitty, so I'm spending the night in to recuperate.

On the plus side of being down about school, I fucked off school-work on Tuesday night to write an article about the tyranny of the so-called BRIT School which has unleashed the "talents" of Adele, Amy Winehouse, Leona Lewis, Kate Nash etc upon us. You can read it at a new music blog called Shovelled Up Like Muck, which I'll hopefully be regularly contributing too. I've put it in my Links list too, so check it out. My Foals CD is on its way to me, so I expect I'll write up a review of that imminently.

Oblique Strategy of the day

Trust in the you of now.

This, that and everything else

Some days you just think you've totally lost all capability. You're sitting there, perching, feeling shit with a sore throat and sounding very hoarse, and the excellent task you've put effort into preparing just falls flat. You can't shout anyway, and they know it (sense it, perhaps), so you're there, sighing, completely impotent.

Little bastards. One of them even put up a hand to high-five me (something to do with Marilyn Manson - don't ask), the cretin. I gave him a very stern look. I think they genuinely believe I should be flattered by their approval or whatever - they're only just 15!

Anyway, I went to the school gym afterwards which definitely helped to de-stress. My physical fitness is absolutely crap, however. I managed to row over 1000 metres, however, and ran (sometimes walked quickly) over 1500 metres. In total, I burned about 200 calories or so. That might be my future serving of apple crumble and custard this week.

So - Friday was the first "Party Lounge" (that is, the monthly night to be hosted by The Yell). The support band, AGASKODO TELIVEREK, were excellent, though their set went on a bit. They consisted of an English (I think) drummer, who drummed to a click-track throughout, two very eccentric-looking Hungarian guitarists (dressed in 118-esque short and T-shirt outfits) and a Japanese singer, who half screamed and half posed throughout the set. It was extremely entertaining.

The Yell are going to have to work on an after-party though. The night at the Pomona was fairly empty and after having an ultra-shit attempt at pool, we went home after a pretty short period of time. Pool's one of those things that really matters when you're drunk and rubbish at it, but seems ludicrous the next day.

Anyway, actually socialising has made me feel enormously trapped by the restricting mass of marking I have to do, and - full circle - makes me extremely resentful of ungrateful kids.

I'm terrified, at the moment, of that feeling that will inevitably surface, after which I'll hate every single moment of my job. I've been suppressing it all through the winter with almost total success. Ironically, I can feel it bubbling away more now that it's getting lighter and warmer - this is the time I should be using for myself, not for some children's half-arsed attempts at homework.

Ding Dong The Witch is at the Beginning of the End?

So I woke up getting excited about Maggie Thatcher being in hospital, but it's just for fainting, and she's probably getting discharged later today anyway.

It's made me think about what the public reaction will be when she does bow out. Loads of people I know say they'll be involved in the country-wide street party (I think I'm a member of the "Street Party when Thatcher Dies" Facebook group), but will anything like that actually happen? I doubt it. When it comes down to it, people like resenting her, but I think on the whole we're too restrained and nice a bunch of people to actually celebrate someone's death.

I was imagining doing a mammoth bake and giving away free cupcakes to celebrate, and how I'd get horrible looks and comments from various people saying what I was doing was in very poor taste and inappropriate.

More likely, as Ian says, there'll be this mammoth rewriting of history, and various political figures creeping out of the woodwork to tell us she was the greatest prime minister we've ever had. Rephrasing "crippling the North" as "pioneering economic reform". Whatever.

Probably that will inspire me to make more cakes with an image of her face with a big X through it.

Ed sent me a link to this though, which is more than cool

Tired. Bored. Stressed.

And all Eno can say is, "Lowest Common Denominator".

I'm going to watch ER and go to bed.

Whoa!

Prince Harry has been "secretly" serving in Afghanistan since December! Who'd have thought? There's some good pictures of him in his less-than-basic living accommodation, which I can only think is a pretty good experience for someone of his ancestry.

What's hilarious, though, are the Guardian's captions for the pictures. They're along the lines of, "Harry holds his .50 calibre heavy machine gun while sitting on his camp bed".

Jimmy Kimmel is an American comedian with his own show: Jimmy Kimmel Live! He's also in a long-term relationship with American comedian Sarah Silverman.

Jimmy Kimmel also has a habit on his show of "bumping" Matt Damon every week i.e. he says, "We've run out of time for Matt Damon." On one occasion, Kimmel went slightly too far, actually had Matt Damon walk onto the dais, they shook hands blah blah blah, but then Kimmel said his usual, "We've run out of time . . " Matt Damon went off it!

So, Sarah Silverman, being a good sport, did this to her unsuspecting partner, with hilarious results. And in retaliation, Jimmy Kimmel just aired this on his show on Oscar night. Very amusing. Where will it end?

Happy viewing.

Sarkozy in Sweary Outburst Shock

Funny remix here.

Too much stuff

I'm in full-on declutter mode at the moment.

A work colleague revealed that he'd sold loads of his books from university on Amazon marketplace and ended up £300 richer. So I was been inspired, during my visit to Newcastle, to look at my bookcases and list all the plays, anthologies, classic novels etc that I'd probably never pick up again. Of the fifteen that I decided I could happily part with (some of which are monster-sized anthologies that will cost well over £2.75 to post), I've already sold three, so I'm hopeful I can get rid of a lot more crap from my bookshelves.

Some things, obviously, aren't worth listing. Some Shakespeare editions only get listed for 1p, and other popular contemporary novels ("The Unbearable Lightness of Being" - I'd keep stuff like that, but I didn't really rate it, if I'm honest) are better off in the local charity shop.

Speaking of which, there's a book recycling bank at Tesco that was full on Sunday. So, the intelligent declutterers had just piled their books on the top. While I was investigating to see if any more would fit in, Ian noticed a Hemingway novel he hadn't heard of or read, so he took it. Is this stealing or not? We regularly buy books from charity shops, as well as donating to them, but is it morally wrong to take a book exposed to the elements? Hmmm.

I'd have taken it too, obviously. Just another form of recycling.

Not that I care, but . . .

Edith Bowman is pregnant. I care so little, in fact, that I've only just discovered this despite it being announced 0n 19th Dec. What does leave me perturbed is the idea of an annoying DJ with shit music taste producing a child with a God-awful untalented idiot from whinge-band and No. 1 Interpol-rip-off-merchants The Editors. Ugh.

What is going to become of a child with such a genetic disadvantage?

Oh yeah!

The janitor in Scrubs doesn't actually have a name. How bizarre that I didn't realise.

World Events

We're living in strange times.

Kosovo declares independence. I would like to take this opportunity to say that I recognise Kosovo as an independent state and that the Russian and Chinese governments can go sulk in the corner. Not abiding by international law my arse!

Castro resigns. What's going to happen next? Do they have a whole array of mini-Communists ready to take over? Or is Cuba going to make friends (and trade deals) with Hillary/Barrack/John? Let's face it though: Castro is one of those people who is so associated with the 60s iconism (not a word, but I can't think what I mean), that it's almost nostalgic to realise he's still alive. Like Dylan, he should already be dead, in a way.

Musharraf admits defeat. An end to power-hungry dictatorships in Pakistan? I suppose a coalition government makes it difficult to be as corrupt, but it seems unlikely that this is the end of the trouble.

And in local news:

Mohamed Al Fayed calls Prince Phillip a "racist" and a "Nazi". Same old.

How to make a imperfect quilt . . .

Ian was saying that long-term projects are good to have. This was in relation to my "quilt"-making, which I started on about Winter 2006 . . . I think, and which I'm hoping to complete this week. (I say "quilt", by the way, because the smallest pieces are actually 17 cm x 17 cm, so it's easily machinable, and not creating some intricate flowery pattern or anything of that kind.)

I understand what he means - it's nice to have a work in progress; something you can keep coming back to, rather than something which is two-days' work and then complete. Maybe the satisfaction over a long-term project is greater too.

But to me, creative pursuits can quickly turn into imagination-crippling, torturous tasks that I find boring to get on with. I'm lazy, I suppose. I like ideas, but once I start doing something and they don't live up to my mental image, I quickly begin something else and leave whatever it was incomplete, preferring to follow flitting flights of fancy rather than spend time problem-solving.

The frustrations of perfectionism or just laziness? Probably both. Anyway, I'm definitely not being a perfectionist over this quilt. It's full of flaws on the reverse side (as I'm sewing all the diagonals across the top), but I don't care. As some musician said about something or other, "You can't pay for mistakes like those."

If only I believed that and wasn't actually extremely irritated by all the mistakes . . .

Pictures soon.

Some days you wake up feeling inspired; everything captures your imagination. (No doubt this is in no small part related to the fact that my half term has commenced and I have room to think about creative things.) Unfortunately I'm too hungover to do much about anything.

I've just read about Art Sheffield in the Guide which I ridiculously have heard nothing about. There's also an amazing idea in the Guide: Sarah Kane's play Blasted being performed for audiences of only 12 at a time in a hotel room. Excellent concept. Looks like there might be some stuff worthwhile seeing in Newcastle too, art-wise. (Usually I end up at the Baltic in between exhibitions . . . )

More vitamin C required . . . despite the fact that (look away, I'm going to be crude) I drank so much cranberry juice last night that I swear my wee smelt of it this morning. Five-a-day overload.

Oblique Strategy of the day

State the problem in words as clearly as possible

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Is the information correct?"

Hmm . . . apparently not.

I've discovered through Facebook that my sister has split up with her boyfriend. Bizarre. And quite depressing. In fact, I think I've found out about a few people's relationship endings and get-togethers through Facebook . . .

Speaking of Genius . . .

. . . I solved Derren Brown's horse racing "System" about 5 minutes into the programme.

It was all one big probability tree.

Easy.

P.S.

This actually reminds me of one of those crap "Genius" programmes on Channel 5 that me, Ed and Linda laughed our way through. One particular "genius" became an amazing painter (despite having had no previous artistic leanings) having strained so hard on the toilet that he gave himself an embolism, after which he was unable to cease painting with oils! Pure TV gold. The "tragedy" of his story was that there was no room in his house for the number of canvases he was producing. Gutted.

Newsnight FUCKING HILARIOUS!

OMG. As I type, the main feature on Newsnight is the side-effects to a particular brand of drugs for Parkinsons. Apparently, several people (seven, in fact) became addicted to gambling, but one of these patients became a compulsive poet, unable to cease writing the shitest poems day and night! Oh my God. A crap-poetry-writing addiction. You couldn't make it up.

Jeremy Beadle RIP

Is it just me, or does there really seem to have been a disconcertingly high number of deaths recently?

Jess is a "Good Girl"

Yes, so I have been declared by the deputy head (JD, as he will now be known) at my school. I'm so proud, and didn't feel in the least bit patronised or undermined as a young woman. (I'm not being thoroughly sarcastic there, but obviously there is more than a small trace.)

I earned the accolade by compiling a "dossier" of YouTube videos created by kids at my school, which I stumbled upon after suspecting some bullying videos were on there. Most of the videos (shot on mobile phones, which are BANNED at school - this, I suspect, is the reason JD has taken it so seriously. He sees children flouting the rules as making a personal attack on him.) were just extremely stupid: kids being silly on the bus; kids egging each other on to drink muddy water from a puddle; etc etc. But two were disturbingly vindictive and aimed at one particular, ginger kid in my Year 9 class.

Stupid kids.

Hilariously, I found myself in the predicament of having to explain why I'd set my Year 10 the homework task of watching a video on YouTube and analysing the use of Gothic features. No, it wasn't the fact that they were on YouTube, it was the term "Gothic". Not only did the word remind JD of those horrible kids called "Goths", but he was worried about the repercussions of studying anything Gothic in a Catholic school. I had to then explain why "Frankenstein" has extremely Christian themes, that the kids are very aware of these, and that they need to explore the social and historical context of the novel in order to achieve a good mark for their coursework. JD seemed satisfied by this, saying that he had no idea what it was about.

It was only when I walked back into the English workroom that a colleague pointed out that this conversation had taken place around the corner from my gory display: the background is black, there's a border of red paper made to resemble dripping blood, and HORROR written in Chiller font.

It's funny having to justify this kind of stuff. The fact that kids love it and therefore engage with it doesn't seem to be enough. But the idea that classic texts and even Shakespeare texts need explanation is ludicrous.

As an introduction to Macbeth, my Year 8 class were talking about superstitions. One girl mentioned that she and some friends had tried the "bloody Mary" thing and done an Ouija board. After talking about it in depth (haha), I advised the class to never mention any of their dealings with evil spirits to anyone in the senior team . . .

Another member of my department remarked that if her daughter had to read The DaVinci Code, she's definitely complain. Not because she's Catholic and doesn't agree with its content, she added, but because it's so shit.

Spot on.

Heath Ledger is dead

It's hard to comprehend this:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/23/movies/23ledger.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

Oblique Strategy of the day

"The tape is now the music."

I'm having difficulty with this one.

Me on YouTube

I've gotten round to making myself a YouTube profile, so if you're on there, please befriend me: my username is ELSPECTRE82. I've already favourited (a neologism?) loads of cool and not-so-cool videos, and maybe one day in the future I'll get round to making some grainy montages of my own, complete with 80s-style-graphics and a terrible soundtrack, perhaps dedicated to my favourite hunk actor . . . that being the manner of most YouTubers.

Now I'm going to reheat yesterday's Chinese takeaway . . .

Tim Burton and Johnny Depp on The Culture Show tonight (I've never seen Tim Burton doing an interview before), and also the second episode of the new series of ER - maybe Saturday night TV is looking up?

Leave Dandy Dan alone!

Someone keeps coming to my blog through a Dandy Dan referral, and it's freaking me out. Why would someone be so obsessed by a picture of Dandy Dan?

If that's not it, then why not just bookmark http://troutinthemilk.blogspot.com?

It's weird, how people stumble across your rantings and ravings . . .

Further evidence of global insanity

Kevin Keegan returns to Newcastle United.

Our letting agent immediately fixed various problems around the house (anyone who has ever rented knows how bizarre this is).

OMG Pope Tea on YouTube

The Pope has pulled out of a visit to Rome's main university, after students and academics began protesting. Benedict XVI won't condemn the Inquisition's treatment of Galileo, and even quoted an Austrian scientist who said the treatment of Galileo was "reasonable and fair"! Indefinite house arrest and death threats if he didn't recant. Bizarre.

Other news: I was told by a colleague (after telling her of my weakened state) that tea-drinking can reduce the body's absorption of iron. I've done some research, and apparently this only relates to the iron found in plants, not meat, and also that if you have extra Vitamin C then it makes no difference (however, to make sure, you should have your cup of tea with your meal or up to an hour after). Who knew? Tabloid heading: TEA CAUSES ANAEMIA.

I'm feeling pleased with myself because I tipped off Laura from The Modern Age blog about Ryan Adams' antics on YouTube, which include this piece of footage from Ryan and the Cardinals being on tour:




And some other totally random stuff:




And some other really lovely stuff, like this (SAD DAYS: found footage of dreams):




Long post over.

PS. The girl whose legs were badly broken is stable and well enough to have more operations on her legs.

I feel so fucking miserable now.

I didn't ever expect to be trapped in a web of empathy like this.

Monday morning . . .

I'm definitely in need of some of Brian's advice, and he says, "Use filters."

These are two excellent words for my present situation.

Firstly, I have so much marking that I'd probably cry if I didn't filter it into varying degrees of importance. Besides the usual books, I have 32 Year 8 Horror Stories to read, I have 4 classes of Christmas writing tests to mark, 32 GCSE coursework essays etc. Soon I will have another 32 mini-essays on "Holes" by Louis Sachar. How I will get through this mammoth load of marking is yet to be revealed.

Secondly, I'm not in peak physical condition, and almost fainted in briefing this morning. I had to shuffle out of the door to avoid keeling over. The problem there was that I'd been ill all weekend, and in briefings everyone is crowded into the staffroom which quickly becomes very hot and stuffy. Very few people are early enough to grab a chair, so it's more likely that you'll be standing, and that the senior team will be going on and on and on about something or other. Today I was phasing in and out (filtering?), unable to focus on what they were talking about, until the head of 6th Form started telling us about a girl who was knocked down by another 6th former on Friday.

We thought that the girl had "just" broken her leg, but she's now in a critical condition because the breaks and fractures are extremely severe, and the trauma of undergoing two long and complex operations led to her kidneys beginning to fail.

See how succinctly I can put it? Instead, we had a chronological account of every horrible detail of the poor girl's experience in hospital.

The girl also has two younger siblings in school, neither of whom have been told just how ill their sister is. I teach one of them tomorrow, and I have no idea how to cope with the situation. If he doesn't know how ill she is, then it would be strange to ask them to say a prayer for her, and obviously being a heathen, asking kids to say a prayer when I'm not obliged to by school rules is not something I'd do anyway. Still, I want to show some support.

Best, I think, to just give them a shitload of tasks and get them to work quietly and/or loudly.

I'd like to be able to filter this out, but the impact of something like this on a school is staggering. You see head teachers on TV giving speeches about how good pupil X was and it makes relatively little impact on you, but in the actual school there's a shift in everyone's concept of reality .

I hope she's ok, particularly for the sake of her two siblings (how awful to think your sister has two broken legs and then for her to die - I think their parents have made the wrong decision about not telling them), and also for the kid driving the car. His life now will be awful enough without something worse happening to her.

I don't have prayers, but she's in my thoughts.

Random Eno advice for any weekend projects

"Remove specifics and convert to ambiguities."

Crap graphics on TV News - love 'em.

On ITN News they just had CANCELLED rubber stamped onto a picture of Hollywood glitz. Hilarious.

I know extraordinarily little about the writers' strike. I should probably find out what they're actually asking for . . .

WTF . . .

is Ryan Adams playing at? Check out his myspace, where you can listen to four strange rock tunes by one of his alter-egos, 'Sleazy Handshake'. I repeat - WTF?

I don't agree with Robert McKee's outlook on the film industry and the business of writing, but when it comes to self-editing he's both astute and pithy: "No one has to see your failures unless you add vanity to folly and exhibit them."

Indeed.

In other news I managed to fix the "broken" central heating with ease late last night, thus feeling like a complete fool for spending the day wasting electricity on energy-consuming heaters and boiling the kettle repeatedly in order to perform ablutions of some nature.

Water pressure - that's all it was. Let more water in = higher pressure = boiler works.

Idiot.

The cold

It's around 3 degrees, and we woke this morning to find our boiler flashing. Unfortunately there is nothing to tell us what this means, and we don't have an emergency number for our letting agent. I've left a message (the apparently check their phone regularly at the weekend, but this doesn't seem to be the case) and written an email, but we've had no word. So I'm holed up in the living room with the electric heater, doing school prep and wondering how many times we'll have to boil the kettle to get enough hot water to wash in (by tomorrow I'm going to be in desperate need of a hair wash) . . . It's not a good state of affairs.

"Overtly resist change"

That's what the random oblique strategy said. Interesting, because at this time of year, everyone's going on about their plans to be different or do new things. I've thought vaguely about some things I'd like to improve on or to change, but nothing so rigid as a set of "resolutions". If anything, I was thinking about how bizarre the words "resolve" and "resolution" are.

I resolve to be a better person - I am resolute about this - I will therefore have a better resolution.

Do we really want to resolve all those untidy endings? Sounds pretty boring if you ask me. I do not resolve to be unresolute.

So my nonresolutions are:

To attempt to have some fingernails (same as every year)
To structure my leisure time so that I can be more productive and spend time working on the projects that make me happy (I always aspire to achieve more, but never can because I never rethink my procrastinating and lazy habits).
To watch less television (relates to the above, obviously).
To spend my free periods and lunchtimes at school productively, and reduce the amount of crap I purposelessly haul to and from school.
To go round to (more) people's houses more and invite them to ours.
To complete and be happy with any of the following: a short story (or short play), an EP, a set of screenprints or artworks.
To file things straight away (if this requires tidying or reorganising my current filing
system, then so be it).
To travel more.

I think that those are all about not changing and more about being better at being me. But that might be bullshit.

Merry Christmas!

Thank heavens for Pagan festivities. A break was much needed. AND I'm finished my Christmas shopping - and managed to do so without any stress. I'm currently taking a break from making one last present, as it's the most fiddly thing I've ever made and my back hurts.

Soon I will make chocolate brownies and bemoan my lack of Christmas outfit. I went in so many clothes shops - where is all the nice party-wear?

Break over. Back to my tasks.

So much shit gets in the way of real life, don't you think?

Or is the shit real life?

God.

PS

Brian says:

Not building a wall but making a brick.


Which does seem nicely prescient.

Yawn

Leave in the darkness; get home in the darkness; experience a slight bit of daylight on wanderings from one classroom to another.

The Christmas holidays are so so necessary. I'm drearily fading each day, nourished less and less by nightly sleep or by the weekends. Thankfully it seems that everyone else in the department is planning (or has planned already) on watching videos with every single class next week. This unfortunately doesn't ensure good behaviour, however, so it's not like it'll be a total doss . . . but I'd very much like it if it was. Frankenstein board game, Year 10?

If only the holidays actually lasted longer. They always feel like they go by in a blip. Maybe that's just because I'm still off school when others have already gone back to work . . .

So, what's to look forward to in the New Year? Not having to look for a new job (after observing one of my lessons, the head said he thought my teaching was "wonderful"); a Bjork gig in May; forming a garage-style band with Lindsay & Katie; days getting longer; flowers blooming. Not much really. I should plan a holiday for Easter.

To think it's not even the shortest day yet . . .

A Day of Feeling Bloated

Late night chicken kebabs are delicious - but completely unnecessary.

Geordie IM speak

I asked my Year 10s to translate this message (which was posted on my sister's Facebook wall by one of her school friends) into Standard English. They thought it was hilarious, particularly when I read it to them in a high-pitched Geordie charver voice:

DUDE MAN HOW FUNY WUD IT B 2 B A COW!!! a told me ma n laurie n they wer lyk r u takin th mick thats nt funy and a was lyk hello id b a cow wots nt funy about that! n me ma was lyk katie id undastand if u wer ugly n fat bt ur nt plz dnt go as a cow. bt 2 b fair ad b geet sweatin wudnt a? av got a lush dres frm ted baker n a cud wear that n be a cow 4 me 21st. im cany xcitd 4 th birth actualy even tho im guna b old n decreppid! u beta nt treat ursel 2 that hazza p soundtrak or al bray yer!

im guna go chin them 2mz al let yer no th results lv du xxxxxxx

Thank God for cheerful till attendants in town. If someone had been really grumpy to me I think I would have become extremely stressed. As it is, I managed to actually buy some presents for people, rather than get myself a load of stuff to ease my sense of uselessness (aside, with half an eye on the news: my God, Ricky Hatton is an ugly bastard).

Actually, that's not strictly true. A trip to the excellent Help The Aged charity shop in Broomhill really bore fruit. Well, not fruit as such, but some pretty good 7" singles: Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy, The Ghostbusters theme, Israelites, Can You Feel It, Golden Brown and Get Into The Groove. A veritable sweep. Now I just need someone to ask me to play 7 x 7. (I realise there are only 6 records there, but I do have a whole host of other singles from which I could assembly a striking musical montage.)

Anyway, it's fucking dismal outside: rain, a bit of hail, wind, freezing wind at that. I mention this because I'm meant to be going to a friend's housewarming, but venturing outside for a long walk to her house is about as appealing an idea as, well, sitting in the cold and being blasted with ice . . . I love wind and lashing rain when I'm cosy indoors, but being in town before, encumbered by a massive coat, scarf, hat and gloves made me feel awkward, flustered and unattractive.

I'll try to compensate by re-cutting my fringe, I think.

Shatner rules OK

I'm hungover and trying to mark kids' draft coursework essays and getting increasingly infuriated with the lack of detail on the mark scheme. It's not a serious hangover; just one that makes you feel lousy enough to have trouble concentrating and has you acting like a grump.

I'm going to another gig tonight - woe is me. I really want to see some of the bands, but in all honesty, I'd rather curl up in bed and hibernate. Preferably not with a stack of badly-punctuated scrawled essays by 14/15-year-olds who can't embed quotations (despite a lesson on it) or organise their thoughts into paragraphs.

I think I'll go ponder the C/B borderline again and pick at my tiny battle-scar from last night's gig (the Hipshakes guitarist accidently shattered a beer glass and propelled it through the air with his headstock, sending tiny shards everywhere, including my arm. Good gig!) . . .

Evil Knievel RIP

http://www.guardian.co.uk/usa/story/0,,2220208,00.html

I got Bjork tickets - hooray! It's not until May, but these long-term plans give you something to look forward to I suppose. I'm still undecided about whether to go to ATP vs Pitchfork however, which is also in May . . . hmm. I should probably worry about what I'm buying people for Christmas this year instead. This is causing numerous problems, because our local postal service for parcels has seemingly ground to a halt. We're currently waiting on three parcels, all of which are at least 9 days overdue - one of which is an electromagnetic/ultrasonic rodent repelling thing which turns the electrical system in your house into a "forcefield".

Christmas - it isn't even December yet.

I like to dance; I hate dance.

Sometimes you have an experience which enables you to remember why exactly you hate something that you hate.

So it was last night, when the monthly fun at the H@rley turned into a shite dance disco and my ears were populated by the ugly rhythms of house music. We stuck around for a while, hoping the offensive DJs would be replaced by people who like music; but the longer you stay, the longer you have to stay ("we've stayed this long - it's got to get better soon, surely?"), and the more miserable you become.

It really annoyed me. Weekends are precious and I don't want to waste time and energy amongst a group of people who would probably dance to the noises of a decrepit central heating system if it was loud enough.

Couldn't it have been advertised as a dance special? Then I wouldn't have bothered, could have got up bright and early today and felt productive. Instead I'm grumpy and hungover from having to drink Grolsch and it's almost 1.30pm and I'm not dressed yet.

I look forward to next month when normal service will be resumed.

Creative Missions

Warren of Heart Yeah excellence has come up with an amazing idea: he will take every number 1 single, buy it, scrutinise it, strip it down and record a new version using only a gameboy and two vocal tracks. He's doing all this on his new blog which is fantastically ungrammatically called All Your Top 40 Are Belong To Us and you can find his cover of Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis there now. (I'll put a link to his site in my link bar at some point.) I wish the vocals were mixed higher, but it's really very good, and it's exciting that someone's actually doing something creative and interesting. Lately, everyone (me included) seems to be in a creative lull . . . it's probably just the cold. And/or horrible kids. Etc.

So, I made a pumpkin cake. I'm celebrating Autumn, see.

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Don't break the silence."

It's been a pretty hectic week, and my poor knees are suffering from all the driving I've done, so this one seems pretty relevant.

I'm bored of Oblique Strategies now. They only serve to remind me of how little time I have to do anything creative at the moment. This week, in particular, is going to be quite harsh in terms of relaxation and productive time. Tonight, I have to write out lesson plans for tomorrow because the school's having a mini-OFSTED (there'll only be 3 inspectors, and they're only there for the day). The chances of me being seen teaching are quite slim, but on the off-chance, I need make sure I've covered myself. So, a Year 10 lesson which would normally consist of pupils drafting their coursework, will now incorporate a number of activities.

Tomorrow, when not hiding in the staffroom so that the inspectors can't interrogate me, I need to prepare for the following day's Year 7 parents' evening. This will be my first solo parents' evening, and I'm going to be quite nervous. Firstly, I only see one of my classes once a week and don't know some of their names, so when a parent says, "I'm Sam's mum," I will be desperately racking my brain to remember the child in question and will instead look at my mark book and think, "Well, I have no idea how often he contributes in class, but he seems to do homework to a reasonable standard." Secondly, this is a high-achieving school, and I just know that some parents are going to start grilling me about how their child can reach the next attainment level. Snore.

Meanwhile, I'll be itching to get away because I'll need to drive to Leeds with a carload of folk to go to the Beirut gig. I'm pretty excited about that and looking forward to a rare girls' night out.

Then Friday, I need to take a trip to Liverpool for my siblings' birthdays.

I'm tired just thinking about it all.

No, I'm just tired.

Teaching seemed okay last week. This week it's boring the shit out of me . . .

Oblique Strategy of the day and unrelated thoughts

"Do we need holes?"

Good question, Brian. Usually I can bend an Oblique Strategy to fit anything in life, much like the way people read horoscopes, but this one is causing me problems. Maybe it should be "wholes" . . .

I'm sucking on Strepsils in the hope that my voice will return in time for school. It disappeared after I went to see Rolo Tomassi at the Casbah on Wednesday. They were on good form, surreally fancy-dressed in a tiger suit, monk's robe, a small dress, etc. In addition to her leopard print skirt-suit, the singer was wearing a mask which Pat thought was meant to be Toby Anstis, but I wasn't sure. Anyway, trying to have a conversation over the support bands has left me sounding like I have a forty-a-day habit. Hilariously though, the kids at school have only one frame of reference, and I heard two of my Year 10 boys muttering that I must have been to a Sheffield United or Sheffield Wednesday game (which is odd in itself, because they already know which teams I give a remote crap about, and it's neither of those).

Up until the smoking ban, I'd always assumed my morning-after gravelly tones were due to inhaling everyone's "social" smoke. Now I've realised it's purely from shouting over background music that's invariably too loud (forgive me if I sound old, but we all know it's true), so ironically, the smokers who stand outside the whole evening are probably better-off throat-wise that anyone else.

So last night was Rough Disko's third birthday, which unfortunately clashed with a free Crystal Castles gig and wasn't as full as otherwise. Still, DOTS were excellent as usual, and seem to have easily enough really good material for their first album.

The other band were Camp Actor, whose performance I ruined for Ian because I thought the singer looked like The Sandman (amazing animation: watch it):



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjgHbRrnjhU

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Use filters."

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Question the heroic approach."

Love Love Love This

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Breathe more deeply."

Catholic Guilt Guilt Guilt

I found my goldfish dead when I came home from school today. I'd had it for about three and a half years, and it's shubunkin friend committed suicide by leaping from the tank over a year ago.

I was a terrible owner. I didn't have a filter or anything, and I spent the last two years wishing the little buggers would just die because I was too lazy to clean them out as much as I should have.

Now, of course, after wishing it dead for so long, I feel profoundly guilty. (Perhaps not profoundly, actually.) It looked weird lying there on the newspaper after I fished it out with the net. I only knew it as a moving being beyond the prism of plastic and water.

RIP fish. I'm sad you're dead, but I'm not sad I don't have to look after you any more.

(The fish only had names as a pair, and I couldn't remember which was which when one died. They were called Fizz (or "Phys") and Imp, after Damien Hirst's The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Something Living (you know, the big shark). I was looking at them when I first got them, and was struck by how the fact of little perfect examples of life were much harder to comprehend than death. Take that, Hirst.)

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Don't stress on thing more than another."

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Twist the spine."

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Short circuit (example: a man eating peas with the idea that they will improve his virility shovels them straight into his lap)"

I have my doubts about this one, or perhaps it's just his example. Reminds me of toilet roll with Aloe Vera extract.

I love Fight Club. I wish I'd read the book before I saw the film though - the book read like the film, but I'm not sure if that's because Ed Norton's voice in the film is so powerful . . .

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Don't break the silence."

Re: oblique strategies

I've been getting these Oblique Strategies from http://music.hyperreal.org/artists/brian_eno/oblique/oblique.html which has a random generator. There's 127 of them in total, and some of them are more oblique than others. Bizarrely though, they almost always seem to make pretty good sense to me or carry some greater than usual significance. I've been working on a screenplay, and "Just carry on" is definitely the best advice at the moment.

Apparently, Alfred Hitchcock said, "Once we have worked out the story in full, then we begin the screenplay," or words to that effect. It seems to me that different genres require different methods. TV and film are so unforgiving, over-structured and busy that I can imagine a series falling apart if you tried to just work through from start to finish. Stage plays and prose on the other hand, allow so much more freedom and creativity on the part of the writer, that I think the more you let your mind wander around the better (and then get to the editing afterwards). Much of the inspirational steps in art have come about due to mistakes or accidents, and yet the film/TV business seems to want to eradicate any originality.

I've been visiting a lot of writing blogs recently, and the diversity of opinion and technique differs wildly, from the institutionalised "you might think that sounds like selling out, but you DO want people to see your work, don't you?" approach, to the fresh and original voice of a talented playwright who isn't prepared to compromise his writing for commercial success. (And lots of opinions in between.)

Frankly, though, if I hear another word about "practical aesthetics" and "super objectives" I think I'll have an electronic paddy.

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Just carry on."

Oblique Strategy of the day

"You are an engineer."

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Look at the order in which you do things."

Allotment

Picture post - attempts to capture the Autumn light

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Cut a vital connection."

Oblique Strategy of the day

"Imagine the piece as a set of disconnected events."

How to spoil a nice cup of tea

The latest government suggestion on carbon-cutting is that we all drink UHT milk so that supermarkets won't have to refrigerate it, thus cutting down on energy. I kid you not.

There is not a right-minded person who would come up with this suggestion, and yet it's getting discussed! Have they ever had UHT milk on their cereal or in their tea? Would they make custard or cheese sauce with this disgusting fluid?

I can imagine life without my own private transport, or a life spent in the dimness of a energy-saving-lightbulbed world, or a life without exotic fruits (or unexotic fruit & veg) grown in South Africa and Kenya . . . but a life without fresh milk?

The tea council should put a price on the head of the dimwit who came up with this. It's oddly reminiscent of the Natwest adverts, with junior executives coming up with the most "out-of-the-box" ideas possible . . .

Read the text on the milk portions: "tastes like fresh milk", apparently.

Facebook features

You have to hand it to them, Facebook are pretty good in letting people create new ideas that keep facebookers from getting bored. The newest application I've added to my profile is the Southpark Character Creator. Unfortunately, it's pretty limited in what you can change about the head, so the version of me I created looks nothing like me, but I think it's cool nonetheless:

I also made one of Ian, which looks a little bit like him:


I think I might make Michael Jackson next . . .

Reviews and stuff

How come it's de rigour to record one's album in the USA at the moment? New York, Chicago, . . . they're all at it. It's not like there aren't recording facilities in the British Isles. And surely it's nothing to do with inspiration - because the album should already be written, to a large extent, before the band even gets to the studio.

Anyway.

I saw Control - the Ian Curtis biopic - yesterday evening, and found it to be superficial and disappointing. It really made sense to me that it had been directed by a rock photographer (Anton Corbijn), because there was no depth to the film at all. There was no sense of the tragic in the film at all, and no over-arching narrative either: it seemed to be a series of unrelated events, rather than a story. If there were some themes there, then I didn't find them, and Heather said that she spotted loads of anachronisms in it too: a modern No Smoking sign and a modern litter bin.

There were so many directions that someone could have taken this film, but it did nothing. A music film should have you coming out of the theatre wanting to go home and write songs, but all that was in my head as I walked out was, "Ian Curtis: what a prick." I don't think I should've been thinking, "When's he going to bloody hang himself? I wish he'd get on with it."

All four of us felt this way, which is absolutely contrary to all the reviews, but there you go.

I've also just invested in two new albums: Gulag Orkestar by Beirut (who I'm going to see in Leeds next month) and Fur and Gold by Bat for Lashes.

I already knew and liked some Beirut songs, and while Zach Condon's voice grates on me after an album's worth of songs, there's enough changes in tempo and style to keep you interested. He seems interested in innovation, rather than being quirky for the sake of it, which isn't how Natasha Khan from Bat for Lashes strikes me. Ian had told me that he thought I'd find it very derivative of Bjork and P J Harvey, and he was completely right. Her whispered Standard English voice on EVERY song quickly drove me mad, and I don't think anything she's done struck me as new or interesting. Then again, I haven't bought either Volta by Bjork or White Chalk by PJ Harvey, so perhaps I'm just not into dark, meandering (tuneless?) female vocals at the moment.

What I am looking forward to buying, however, is the new Radiohead album. Like the geek that I am, I will probably part with the £40 required to get the proper boxed edition with all the extras, rather than paying the 49p minimum for a download. I know a lot of less ardent (or less moneyed) fans are annoyed about the lack of a middle-way, but the reason Radiohead are doing this release is to avoid having to wait another few months until their fans can hear the album. A "normal" CD will be out sometime next year, having gone through the usual procedure.

Can't wait.

Oh.my.god.

This is both the funniest and most terrifying advert I've ever ever seen:

http://www.shockabsorber.co.uk/bounceometer/shock.html

Sundays

I hate them.

Sundays are like a strange suspension of time . . .

If only the TV was a little better, it might ease the pain.

Instead I seem to be spending far too much time watching music videos on YouTube.

A Wee Round-Up

Another series of Strictly Come Dancing, another collection of unrecognisable "celebrities" who only inspire outbursts of, "But who the hell is that?" I have to confess that I've been completely addicted to Strictly in the past, but only because I could actually root for someone I already admired - I still think it's a travesty that Colin Jackson didn't win the series before last: that splits-in-the-air move was legendary.

So, let's look at the line-up . . . the only contestants I recognise are Alesha from Mis-teeq, John Barnes, Kelly Brook, Letitia "Sharon" Dean and Willie Thorne. Hardly an A-list cast. Rubbish! At least the judges are worth watching.

Anyway, I don't think I'm alone in saying I'm already suffering from Election Fatigue, and the election isn't even bleedin' happening this year! The Tories did a pretty good job of applying the pressure and now GB really does look like a bottler. In my opinion, he should have gone with it: in these situations, the likelihood of there being a better time is negligible. The economic crash has to happen some time, and the longer Brown leaves it, the more he's pushing his look.

Back to the personal. I spent an hour or so at the NHS walk-in centre this morning. For the second morning in a row I was struck down with an agonising pain in my lower abdomen. Bizarrely it goes away after the ibuprofen kicks in and doesn't return, but the 20 minutes of pain has me writhing around in agony. So Ian drove me to the hospital.

I gave a urine sample, and they ruled out any urinary tract infection or anything like that (they can test for those things in 3 minutes - crazy); I had my bowels listened to, and anything wrong with them was ruled out too; so the only thing it could be is something to do with my uterus. Hilariously, the nurse was looking up potential things by googling "lower abdominal pain", and none of the possibilities are particularly serious, so there you are. I have orders to see my GP if the problem persists, but yet again, I seem to have a mystery illness.

I'm off to bake some brownies.

Ill and stuff

I've been off school, and slept till about 2.30pm. I have such problems determining whether I'm too ill to go to school or not, even when it's really obvious. But then, with school, there's so much guilt attached to being off, because other people have to bear the brunt. I also have no one's contact details from my department, so even though I'd prepared some cover tasks for my classes, I have no idea what to do with them.

Anyway, I started browsing on the internet, and this actually made me laugh. It was on the imdb entry for Chris Farley:

'Innovator of "anti-slapstick" comedy style; ie. man walks into doorframe, curses and screams in pain for long period of time.'

lame lame lame

I've been tired and ill, hence my lack of blogging. My head feels like it's on a spring - I'm disorientated and dizzy most of the time. Which isn't a great way to be feeling when you're stood in front of a class. Unfortunately, my week gets harder and harder, with fewer and fewer free periods, culminating in the most horrific moment of the week: double period with Year 9, last thing on Friday. Nice.

School's ok apart from that and my department is really nice and supportive, but I don't feel like I've gelled there . . . but it could be so much worse. And it's nice not to be waking up hoping I'm too ill to go in (which was the case at my last placement school).

I think I need a nap.