Not quiiiite sick of autotune yet. What’s that you say, Carl? We are made of star stuff? Carl, that’s all I needed to hear today. Thank you.
Children from my drama class this afternoon, quoted verbatim (they were inventing tribal rituals):
“So then we pour oil on him?”
“When I stab him, I can say ‘I see your guts!'”
“What do we do after we nail him to the floor?”
Kids, eh? They’re eight. And I’m the one who has to be police checked to keep the kiddies safe. Who’s monitoring these bloodthirsty little varmints to make sure I’m safe? Forget the nit nurse, somebody should be checking their heads for three digit numbers.
Golly! A Japanese film about a large man who fights monsters? With a stick? Could this be a Citizen Cane for the 21st Century? (Citizen Cane, see, because he has a stick, so that’s… No? Fine.)
I want to see this film very much. I will report back when I do. I’m sure it can’t possibly be as superbly barkingly mentile as the trailer and clips seem to be promising, and I’m sure I’ll be disappointed but…
C’mon! Strange Flavour Monster!
While the original had its charm, I think this is one case where the remake was better.
I hope your week is filled with fortune and glory. And absolutely no snakes.
I’m not a singer, but people root for me. They like me to try for that unreachable note and maybe fail in an interesting way.
– Wayne Coyne
Hehe, I know that feeling. See, and that’s why I love this band. And this song… a lot of people find it gloomy (everyone you know some day will die? Oh noes!) but me, I find it so uplifting. What, you didn’t know you were gonna die?* Anyway, the song’s not about dying, it’s about living. About living like you understand your time round these parts is finite. Make those choices, take those chances. Jump!
This is punk rock.
Not punk rock as in Green Day but punk rock as in just do it. And work out what you’re doing afterwards.
Hehe, I know that feeling.
*Although I haven’t yet decided whether I will or not. I might not fancy it.
Utterly delightful animated short film set to Edith Piaf’s A quoi ca sert l’amour, or What Use Is Love?.
It made me smile. For various reasons.
– Oh will you look at… They’re bloody doing it again!
Who are dear?
– Them bloody kids, who do you think? They’re out there again.
Can’t you just ignore them, dear?
– Oh they’d like that, wouldn’t they?
I really don’t know dear, would they?
– What? I’m telling you. It’s getting beyond a joke. The spitting and swearing, well, kids will be kids, won’t they? And the drinking, who didn’t at their age? And the knives and the ketamine and the crumping. All part of growing up. But this is beyond the bloody pale. Beyond. The. Bloody. Pale. I mean, look at them.
What are they doing dear?
– They’re floating, that’s what they’re doing. Floating there by the bus stop like… like big… look at me! I’m stuck for a simile, that’s how bloody angry I am!
Calm down dear.
– You calm down.
I am calm, dear.
– Well fine. Stay that way. I just don’t know how you can be with those bloody teenagers bobbing up and down in the breeze like… like… God damn it I’m angry! Floating kids. What next?
I wouldn’t know, dear.
– I’ve got a good mind to go out there and glue their feet to the floor. There, try floating now you buggers. If I were ten years younger I would have, just see if I wouldn’t.
They’re not hurting anybody, are they?
– Not hurting? Not..? What’s that got to do with… they are blatantly breaking the laws of bloody physics out there, right in front of my bloody house, and I don’t see why I should have to sit here and watch them drifting through the, the area like… like bloody… God damn it!
Dear? Dear, are you ok?
Dear, are you crying?
– I wish I was young. I want to be young. I wish I was young.
Them Bloody Kids by Harris
more tiny tales
For anyone who needs one.* Sweet dreams. x
*Just make sure you’re asleep before the solo 🙂
This tubby moustachioed loon has loomed on my horizon again. The Curse of Jeff was on in Newcastle at the weekend, at a Northern Screenwriter’s meeting at the Side Cinema. It’s nerve-wracking but fun watching a film you’ve made with an audience. It kind of reminds you why you do it, and I really needed reminding.
I’ll admit it was nice to be asked where I found the actor who played Jeff, and if I was still in touch with him. Well, we’ve fallen out a couple of times, but he’s still around, yeah…
Then a nice lady from an atheist film festival based in Florida got in touch, wanting to screen the Brummie mentaller. Apparently I’m promoting “reason, critical thinking and freedom of inquiry through the medium of film”. I thought I was just putting on a silly accent and having fun with a baseball bat, but maybe she’s right. I’m like Richard Dawkins, me.
She kept calling the film “The Curse of James”. Which interestingly is the name of a song I’d just wrote*, innit. Coincidence? Nah. That’s God’s hand at work, if you ask me. I’ll not tell her that.
*I’m supposed to be writing a film, hence lots of songs. I’m a doyle.
Hank Kingsley is one of the finest comic creations in… ever. Jeffrey Tambor just inhabits the character: selfish, venal, needy, greedy, insecure, mean, loving, pathetic and very, very funny. And all the more impressive when you see him playing George Bluth in Arrested Development, an equally complex character, but so different from Hank. What an actor!
There is so much I could say about The Larry Sanders Show, the writing, the performances, the self-mocking celebrities and the amazing triumvirate of characters Larry, Hank and Artie…
But what I really want to say is this: Seriously, I don’t look like Elvis Costello, do I?
That’s right. I don’t.