I basically am Bear Grylls.

So as you may or may not know, I've been up in Sheffield for the first part of summer. My job hunt has proved to be less fruitful than Chicken Bar and I can't stay inside in my pants 24/7 so some friends and I have started adventuring. With a little help from a certain website, both with my handsome pals and by myself, we've visited various locations all around the city. Here a few pictures I've taken whilst doing so, there are bound to be more in the future. Click on them for a better look.

Choosing To Die.

Forgive the bluntness of the title.


I suppose I have to preface this with another story. I must have been about thirteen the last time I cried from watching something. In the years since then I've watched some of the most emotional films ever made. Schindlers, Pianist, Diving Bell etc etc; but none have had the effect of that first and only film to make me weep. What film was it I hear you eagerly proclaim? 'Deep Impact'. No shame. Not a particularly good film, not a particularly bad one either. The film, from what I remember, is all about a bunch of people basically running away from bloody big meteor. That's the gist of it at least. The one bit I remember, the one bit that sent me, takes place on a beach. The big old meteorite is on it's way to Earth and is on course for crashing in an ocean. Thousands are likely to die, everyone's looting and trying to reach their families and so on and so forth. A father and his daughter, about 50 and 20 respectively, are sat on the beach. They've realised that given their situation, there's no way they can escape the impact. Together they head to the seafront to await their somewhat inevitable fate. In the distance a humongous tidal wave approaches, a result of the meteor reaching it's destination. The daughter takes her dad's hand, looks to him and says something along the lines of "When I was 10 I took thirty dollars from your wallet." He looks to her and replies "Once, when you were a baby, I dropped you on your head". The pair laugh and smile, then look forward as the wave crashes down above them. That was it. I remember leaving the room (I was watching this with my fam; highly embarrassing), and then heading to the bathroom to clean my face up so that I didn't appear to be such a emotional mess. That was the last of it, I haven't cried at a film or programme since then. I'm not saying I've not been affected by anything since then; in fact I'm positive I've seen things that are far superior to 'Deep Impact' and yet none have had the same emotional outcome for me. That is, until the other day. 

Terry Pratchett, renowned author and beard-owner, has Alzheimer's disease. If you're not sure what Alzheimer's is, it's a form of dementia; main symptoms including language breakdown and memory loss. Pratchett has been very open with his condition, working closely with the Alzheimer's Research Trust and documenting his illness with hopes for broadening the public's knowledge on the disease. In 2009 Pratchett spoke in this article about his intentions to commit assisted suicide (though that's not a term he likes). Fast forward to today and Pratchett has worked in conjunction with the BBC to create a documentary about assisted suicide; the decisions that go along with it and the laws & regulations behind it. The resulting piece is some of the best television I've seen in a long, long time. With Pratchett's own thoughts and condition at the heart of the doc, his interaction with those with intention for suicide is poignant and insightful. He talks to a number of different people, with a number of different conditions. Assisted suicide is not legal in the UK but is legal in Switzerland. Dignitas, a Swiss organisation dedicated solely to assisted suicide are at the heart of the film; culminating with  Pratchett travelling to their base with a motor neurone disease sufferer to document his passing.


At first glance it seems that the documentary is bias, promoting assisted suicide as a basic human right. However, as the piece progresses we see the less pleasant side of things - the legal complications, the costs and perhaps most importantly, the effect of one's death on those left behind. The film concludes with death of Peter Smedley, the motor neurone sufferer; with his death filmed as it happens. It's difficult to watch of course, but with the added factor of his wife being sat next to him it's damn near impossible. For essentially the last fifteen minutes of the film I was full on weeping. And you know when you say to someone "oh yeah I cried about it" I mean I cried about it. Like an audible, visual, snivvelling mess for a quarter of an hour, probably more. But don't let me discourage you. It's difficult to recommend the film in that it's not a pleasant watch; you won't have fun whilst watching it. But, having said that, it's a unique and important piece that brings to attention a serious issue that needs to be discussed and addressed. The film, as to be expected, gave way to mixed opinions - an interesting insight to viewers thoughts can be found here.


The piece was originally aired on the BBC on the 13th June 2011, but due to the BBC's iplayer having an awful 30 day restriction limit it has since been removed. Luckily, after some excessive Google searching I found a copy of the film, watchable below or click here for the option to watch the film in full screen. Let me know what you think. 

Let's play catch-up.

I've been neglecting you and I've never been more sorry. However, in fairness to me, I have been busier than you could possibly ever imagine. I've got all my deadlines in this week, I've been making films and reading books and going places and doing things and causing trouble and being good. This year is going at an absolutely unprecedented pace and I am so not ready for it to do so. Plans are being made for summer and next year and the lives ahead of us already but for me it feels like Christmas was last week. 

Speaking of Christmas, I got a neat little camera as a gift and I've been taking pictures of some of the stuff I've done and the wonderful things I've seen. I'll post my favourites below as well as some of the new films I've been making. The black white video is called 'Morning' and it's a type of composograph (essentially something intricate being recorded and edited to create a rhythm or beat). Big thanks to Owen Jones for crawling out of bed and using my toothpaste. The second video is a short documentary made with Owen Jones (producer), Jonny Harrold (audio) and Dave Galloway (visuals); I was editor and director. I think it turned out nicely, please, please, please let me know what you think, we're grateful for any feedback. For now I bid you farewell, but I'll back, and sooner than you think. Be good to each other.

P.s Click on any of the pictures below to see them big and shiny. 

It's watch-a-load-of-stuff day!

Every once in a while there comes opportunity for a day of rest. Everything kind of lines up for you - no ties or commitments; just time to yourself. Today was one of those days. The weather was shitty, I had no money so I couldn't go out and I had (and have) an entire backlog of films and t.v shows to watch. What with the BAFTAs just gone and the Academy awards fast approaching, I figured it was time for me to make my way through this year's frontrunners. 


I'm just guna put this out there - I hate Colin Firth. I hate that whole snivelling, bumbling English buffoon facade put across from him and Hugh 'dickface' Grant. 'Bridget Jones' is a horrendous, sexist, degrading piece of matriarchal propaganda (that may or may not be an exaggeration) in which, men are made to look like either bigamists or dopes. I hate Colin Firth. I hope I've put that across adequately. So it was with furrowed brow and nervous constitution that I approached 'The King's Speech'. The film tells the story of George VI, played by Mr Firth, and his struggle with a speech impediment. He teams up with therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey 'holy-fuck-is-that-Captain-Barbosa' Rush), in an attempt to overcome his affliction and find his voice (in more ways than one). You can see why it's been nominated and praised the way it has. It paints 1930's Britain in a beautiful hazy light. The whites and blues of spring in Scotland; the reds and golds of Royal premises, the browns and grays of the middle class. The past never looked so pretty. The cast is stellar, it seemed to be very much a team effort. They all sort of work off each other with Mrs Burton and Peter Pettigrew consistent as always; providing a backdrop for the forerunners of Firth and Rush. It's nice to watch really. I know nice isn't really the most exciting of adjectives for me to have used but I think it fits. It's nice to see George develop, it's nice that there are moments where we laugh with the characters, it's nice there's a start and a middle and an end. It doesn't come across as pretentious or trying too hard or over-the-top. It's simple, charming and well-made. 

'Boy A' came to my attention on release in 2007. The film tells the story of Jack Burridge, a young man newly released from a prison sentence for a murder he committed as a child. It sort of went under the radar, an independent movie that never really got a lot of recognition, in spite of positive reviews. I didn't get the chance to watch it back then so I kinda forgot about it up until recently. Andrew 'soon-to-be-Spiderman' Garfield, was for me, the best of the bunch in Fincher's 'The Social Network'. So after watching his performance in that a couple of weeks ago, I looked up what he'd done before. Sure enough, his handsome mug was the leading role in 'Boy A' so I looked that little fella up and downloaded it. It's pretty dark, I'll put it out there. Our boy Jack seems to have alot of issues. The whole thing's filled with flashbacks of his youth and what occurred in the build-up to the actual incident, as well as his somewhat unpleasant experiences in prison. It all sort of piles up on top of the poor lad, who seems to just want a fresh start. It's difficult to place yourself as an audience member. We never really know whether we should sympathize with him; it's difficult to know what to think when your protagonist is a murderer. But all that sort of works in the film's favour, it's up to you to decide what you think of him, up to you decide what's right or wrong. Empathy seems to be key here; if you put your feet in Jack's shoes, you'll appreciate the film alot more than if you don't. 


I fucking love American television. Sorry England, 'Dr Who' is great, but 'The Sopranos' pisses all over the tardis. After committing a billion plus hours of my life to the likes of 'Six Feet Under' and 'Dexter', next up was always going to be 'The Wire'. The critically acclaimed show follows the Baltimore drug scene, seen through the eyes of both drug dealers, and law enforcement. I've only just watched the first season (of five) but thus far I can honestly say that it is most definitely the dog's bullocks. It's deep, it's clever, it's engaging and perhaps most importantly, it's consistent. Watch it, but be warned; you will lose many, many hours of your life.

The word of Dawkins.

This picture is not relevant.

I feel like I'm wading into something that precedes me by both years and by knowledge so bare with me here. The debate between atheists and seemingly everyone else has come to prominence of late, and in amongst it came this article by comedian Ricky Gervais. It's difficult to say where to begin. I grew up in a church-of-England-esque house; nothing too serious. We'd go to church at Christmas, my dad would say a prayer before meals on special occasions, my sisters and I have all been christened. Nothing was ever rammed down our throats, I've never had to read the bible, I've never been to been to a Christian summer camp and I don't wear a cross. Things seemed to have died down now, it's only really my dad who still goes but I don't think of that as being a bad thing. There are elements behind Christianity that I wholeheartedly endorse - the good will to all men side of things couldn't be better. Offer the other cheek, do unto others, don't murder other people, the awesome hymns; all that stuff's fucking great. 


This is where things get tricky. There's a plethora of videos and blogs and articles on the Christian debate - if you type in 'Christianity vs' into youtube there are over 5000 hits and that number's only going to grow. Here's my opinion. There is no heaven, there is no hell. When we die that's it, you're done, you don't get a second go. It's a horrendous thought to think that people aren't living their lives to the full because they think that they get another go at it. Someone wiser than I once said that when you die, your thoughts and what you're thinking at that very moment; that's your heaven. Thoughts of the people you love, thoughts of people you care for and the good things you've done. I think that's a nice way to put it. I don't want anyone to tell me that because I don't to go church, or because of my sexual preference, or because I believe in something different that I'm guna spend eternity getting boned by the devil or being tormented by my past. I don't need people like this trying to tell me what's right or wrong. 


I think I'm pretty lucky. I've grown up in an environment where there's been no pressure on me and I have at no point felt obliged or forced to believe anything. That can't be said for everyone. I'm not gay, I wasn't brought up in bible-belt America, I don't have a whole bunch of friends who are strictly religious. I don't believe in God or Allah or whatever anymore than I believe in ghosts or aliens or the Loch Ness monster and I don't have reason to. If a spacehip came down from the sky tomorrow and tiny green aliens came busting out with ray guns and long fingers then of course I'd believe in aliens. Just like how if I was walking down the street and motherfucking Pikachu popped out of a bin, I'd believe in pokemon. But that's it, that's the missing link for me, I haven't seen it myself. It hasn't been proven to me, I haven't been made to believe from scientific evidence before my eyes. That's not to say I don't believe in faith. Faith is an idea, faith is a feeling and I have no problem with people who have faith. I have faith. Faith that there's good in the world, that there's good in people, that there's always something to look forward and aspire towards. Faith that problems can be overcome, faith in love and in people and in ideas. There's more good in this world than there is bad, of that I'm sure. One person's good may be different from another's, but it's good nonetheless. I don't think we're brought into this world to find flaws in others beliefs or preferences but instead, to enhance and hone our own. 


I don't wana get into the whole evolution side of things, there's so much that's been said and argued already I feel like it'd just be another drop in the ocean. What I can say is this. There is unrequited, undeniable, unavoidable beauty on this earth which can be seen everywhere, everyday. It's in the colour of someone's eyes, it's in the grass we walk on in the summer, it's in those annoying fucking birds that sing outside my window at 5am. Everywhere. It's a stretch to believe that all these things, all this beauty, was a coincidence; a series of actions and changes that just so happened to work out. But surely it's more of a stretch to believe that it was all created by one being? I don't want to have to be grateful to one idea, to one concept, to one belief. I want to be grateful to and for everything and everyone. I have more reason to believe in evolution than I do creationism because I can see it for myself. I can go to a museum and see fossils, see skeletons and see other evidence towards that theory. That's what's weighs down the scale for me - simple, scientific evidence. 

Also not relevant.

The problem with the internet is that things are exaggerated. People who might be mice in real life can be lions on the forums and comment sections of the web. It's easy to get the mad ramblings of a clearly insane pensioner confused with the thoughts of an entire religion, especially for those who are unfortunate enough to not know any better. However, there are those who provide brief, memorable moments of clarity in amongst the storm. Richard Dawkins views may well be a little more pronounced than mine, but they're calculated sensible ones. In the first few minutes of this here video he puts across his atheist viewpoint poignantly without raising his voice or resorting to petty name-calling as many have before him. It's these very characteristics that have put him to the forefront of the atheist community, providing a voice of calm and of reason. If you haven't read it, his book 'The God Delusion' is worth a read, whether you believe or not.


As far as gay marriage and abortion are concerned I can answer with the same thing. No person, no religion and certainly no god has any right to stop anyone from doing something they want to do (obviously excluding murder and kidnapping babies and whatnot). I'm not just bunging these two together and saying they're the same thing; of course every single case is circumstantial, but a person's rights aren't something that can be infringed by religion.


I hope this hasn't come across as me ranting or being totally biased; I just wanted to write down my thoughts on something I found interesting. I'd love to hear from you, whether I know you or not, in the comments section below or on my Facebook. I like differences in opinion, I like hearing what other people think. Apologies if anything I've written is poorly worded, I've been off and on researching and writing this since about 4am and it's now 8. Finally, I just quickly I thought I'd share this with you guys - the following video happened to be the top result when I typed 'Christian' into youtube. If it doesn't tug on your heartstrings, I'm sorry to tell you but you are dead inside. Try not to cry.

Back to the Steel City.

Everything's going so quickly. Christmas and New Year went by in a hazy blur, as it always does, and I've found myself back in Sheffield already in a bad sleeping pattern and in dire monetary need. On top of all the work I gotta do, I got a smörgåsbord of films and television shows to watch INCLUDING - Every single episode of 'The Wire' & 'Band of Brothers'; as well as 'Rec', 'October Sky', 'Flashbacks of a Fool' and a million others. It's pretty fucking awesome to know that they're there for me to watch depending on what I feel like. 


The other day I watched 'I'm Still Here'. It's a mockumentary detailing Joaquin Phoenix (the bad ass motherfucking emperor in 'Gladiator') and his transition from an actor to an aspiring rapper. The whole things a satire of entertainment business, Joaquin and partner in crime Casey Affleck take everything that's known about the business and spit in it's face. Here's the thing. I was reading the reviews for the film, from critics and audiences as well, and I was mega, mega puzzled. Are people really, really fucking thick? Everyone seemed to think that it was real, that Joaquin was actually an amalgamation of everything that's wrong with modern celebrity. Did they not watch the same film I did? The one where Joaquin sniffs coke off a prostitute's boobs? The one where his best mate takes a dump on a him when he's asleep? The one where, at the end of the film, it says 'WRITTEN BY JOAQUIN PHOENIX'? People are crazy man. Watch it, it's interesting, clever and funny.


I've been busting my way through the Millennium Trilogy films and thus far can't recommend them more. 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' is totally badass. The first of the three films, it tells the story of a journalist who's aided in his search for a woman who has been missing -- or dead -- for forty years by a young female hacker. Whoever sorted out the casting did a stellar job, every character's believable and has depth that isn't really seen in an action / drama like this. The sequel 'The Girl Who Played with Fire' has a story that's a bit more far-fetched but it's still worth seeing. I'm yet to watch the third, but I'll let you know if it's hot or not. The series was all shot in Sweden and makes the place look awesome (and bloody cold). It's one of those films where those locations and settings really add to the story and help add to a proper sense of realism. 


As I said earlier, I've got a film to make by the 9th, so when it's done I'll pop it up on here and whatnot. In the meanwhile, here's a video of my one true love singing sweet, sweet lullabies with her band She & Him. Seriously, Zooey could be covered in syringes and bees and you'd still have to knock me out to stop me from kissing her.


P.s I redesigned this blog, let us know if you think it's crap. 

Freddy P and birthday tunes.

Here's the dealio. This past Friday, the 14th of January, was my good friend Emma West's birthday. Being poor in wealth but rich in ideas, my brother Fred Proud and I concluded to create a CD of covers to give to Emma. This here is the result. Fred did all the mixing and did everything in his power to make it sound as though it was not recorded with an awful microphone in his living room. He also played all the fancy guitar bits and sang and set all the stuff up, the lad's a machine. We'd like to know what you think, if you've got any questions or opinions or whatever, write it in the comments section below. Enjoy.

P.s If you liked those, below is a song we recorded many years ago with musical genius Jonno Lloyd. 

Notorious XX.

So some genius made this album, mixing together rap legend Notorious B.I.G and mercury prize winners The XX. Listen to Dead Wrong Intro and tell me you didn't shit your pants. The guys who made it can be found over here, and you can download the album here.

It's worth doing.

A thousand goosey ganders.

Click me.

Thanks to you stupendous people, my blog has now had over 1000 views. It might not seem like many, but I'm a sentimental old bastard and I'm totally madly grateful. As a reward here are some pictures of me as an adorable child. Gnarly!


P.s I posted a link for an article in my Christmas blog which told the story of a good Samaritan. The response on the website it was posted on was massive and as a result, they posted this. It's nice to know sometimes that there is good news and good people once in a while.

Pixar.

I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how wonderful Pixar is. For years now they've been making creative, charming and funny films and shorts, ranging from tales of monsters to stories of birds. What you may not know is that before every feature film, Pixar show a short film they've made. These vary in length and content but all are as sweet and enjoyable as the films that proceed them. You can buy a collection of all of Pixar's shorts (as of 2008) in this here fancy DVD. It comes with loads of extras and commentaries and shit, it's real interesting, you'll bloody love it.

Being a big company and whatnot, it was almost impossible to find any examples of the aforementioned films on the internet, but after much research and googling I found this.  Watch it in full screen and enjoy it as much I did. 

Nick Drake.

Nick Drake committed suicide in the November of 1974. He was a singer-songwriter from Warwickshire and also he was awesome. 

I don't want to say too much, just listen to this and close your eyes.

His albums - 1, 2, 3.
His life - 4, 5, 6.

Ebert and Limbo.

It's not often I get the opportunity to prove someone wrong, but I think today I might well have found the perfect chance to do so. I was sat in my room, avoiding work as usual, when I came across as an article by a man named Roger Ebert. Roger is an acclaimed film critic and screenwriter who I'd heard about from someone or something so, when I came across this article I was immediately intrigued and ever so slightly enraged. The piece speaks about how Ebert believes that videogames, in all their shapes and forms, can never be art. I don't want to have to go into detail as to why he's wrong, the thousands of comments at the end of the article by disgruntled gamers sees to that. Rather, I'll give an example. Microsoft (makers of my dear Xbox 360) recently had a Christmas sale, the headliner of which was arty arcade game Limbo. On release the title had been praised and admired and adored by critics, with review collator Metacritic giving it an overall rating of 90 out of 100; so I picked it up to have a wee gander.


 It's kinda difficult to put it into words but Limbo's creators description adequately portrays the game's somewhat ominous tone - "Uncertain of his Sister’s Fate, a Boy enters LIMBO" (capitals were their choice, not mine). Put simply, you're a little boy running around in pitch black and everything is trying to fuck you up. The whole thing is an intense, atmospheric, shit-scary experience. I played the thing in the dark, on my own and jumped more times than I care to remember. The game's engaging, clever and consistent throughout; and even though the narrative simply provided a setting, the game somehow managed to be emotive as well. It's titles like this that prove Ebert wrong; videogames aren't just for bedrooms and lazy people anymore, they're for galleries and intellectuals as well.


P.s If you thought Limbo was pretty you might want to check on some of these - 1, 2, 3, and lest we forget 4.

2011 - Thus far, excellent.

I've had a few interesting New Year's Eves. I remember once spending that special midnight at a train station in Leatherhead. Surreal doesn't even come close. Another year I spent at my house with my family and friends during a stage where my dad had a particular infatuation with Sean Paul. Inevitably, the night played out with us getting drunk and enduring 'Like Glue' on repeat. I spent another at my friend Hal's where his family made my friends and I an awesome meal but then somehow played out with us all wreaking havoc on the green at the front of his house. However; in spite of all past events, in spite of all that's occurred and happened before, last night may well have topped it. 


Festivities took place at Lottie Markworth's home in Brighton. I'd like to state prior to the rest of this story the conditions in which Lottie lives via some brief examples. Over the course of the day we created a game named 'Razor Challenge!' in which you stand in the tiny, tiny shower and try and pick up a razor from the floor. It is of course impossible without dislocating your arms and legs. Example two - 5am, whilst trying to get to sleep on the floor with my sweetheart Paul Olney, I could literally see my breath above my head. It was that cold. Lord knows how that girl manages to live there, I'm really manly and I wouldn't last.


We spent a few hours drinking at the house prior to us going out and as a result ended up being as unstable as toddlers on crack on unicycles. My memory is a hazy mess, but from the pieces I can stick together it felt like Brighton was a post-apocalyptic wasteland. I've never in my life seen so many people crawling, falling over, chundering and crying simultaneously. And that was before midnight. Our group, being the special bunch we are, ended up split up in different bits of Brighton. Some of us went to Jam, a club which busted out the retro tunes and charged £7 for a a double vodka and redbull. Others spent their time on the beach; with chips, fireworks and hundreds of floating paper laterns. I was lucky enough to experience a bit of both and then get lost. Luckily, the drunken people of Brighton were surprisingly accommodating and pleasant. After a short hour and a half walk, during which I definitely didn't throw up over myself, I made it back to the house. The whole thing was very exciting really.


If the rest of the year continues as this has begun I can safely say that this'll be a good year. I can't think of people I'd rather spend my time with or a place I'd rather be with my life than where I am now. To whoever's bothered to read this, I love you. Happy 2011.

Yuletime traditions.

I've always liked traditions and superstitions, and luckily December's full of 'em.

 On Christmas Day my dad, being the secretive bastard he is; likes to play a game in which he essentially pretends he's got us a crap gift (or in some cases no gifts at all) and then at some point later in the day, whip out a gift from behind my ear or hidden in the turkey or something ridiculous along those lines. On Christmas eve, my friends and I successfully manage to go to our Christmas eve curry and eat more food that any one man should ever eat. On Boxing Day I like to spend the day simply sitting around playing with anything new and then, at 1pm exactly, go for a wee walk around my hometown just so I feel like I've done some exercise in the last few weeks. 

Wherever you are, whatever you do, whatever you believe, I think it's nice to think of this as a time for things you know with people you love. 

Merry Christmas.

P.s My dad just told me I'm a loser with no friends for writing a blog to myself on Christmas day. Good times.

P.s.s I just read this and thought it was pretty suitable for the Christmas season. Happy holidays x

La Blogotheque.

To those who haven't been there before, the land of Youtube can be a terrifying place. But once you get past the videos of fat kids falling over and homemade rap videos, there are some gems to be found. La Blogotheque are a French company who film mainly up and coming bands in and around the streets of Paris. This video of Bon Iver might be my favourite thing on the internet, so put some headphones on and enjoy it.

Doodles, part one.

I said in one of my earlier posts that I've started drawing, and due to PHENOMENAL public demand (I'm joking) here are a couple of things I've done. I've only drawn two in pen thus far, I tried scanning the pencil ones in and you couldn't see anything. Eventually I'll put up some more.

House points for guessing who's who.

Zombies.

 American T.V show 'The Walking Dead' for some reason went completely under the radar here in England. I don't want to tell you too much about it but you should know that it's directed by Frank Darabont, the genius behind 'The Shawshank Redemption' and 'The Green Mile' and it's got a shit load of zombies in it. If you're hungry for viewing you can watch all of the first series here. You are so welcome. 

Getting old.

20 is pretty old. I've sort of entered a strange, ethereal state since my birthday on Saturday where everything seems somewhat surreal and time passes really slowly. Maybe it's cos I've just not slept properly for weeks, or it might even be my dire lack of vegetables. Either way it's been an interesting few days.


 On Friday it was Detonate at my local awesome club Plug, where Andy C and London Elektricity were playing. I'd like to state this was the first of many consecutive nights where my memory is particularly shady, namely due to excessive alcohol consumption. On the night however I did conceive one of my best puns to date - 'Dubstich'. The act of dancing so fucking hard to music in a club that your body physically aches and groans like a pensioner. Needless to say, a good night. 


Saturday the 4th of December was my actual birthday and I crawled out of bed at about 2pm, literally feeling like I'd been battered by the cast of Stomp the night before. I met with some friends and braced my liver for another evening of horrific battery and ended up going out to somewhere I don't recall. I literally felt like an amnesiac the next day, moping around my flat like a depressed housewife. At one point I had to look through photos of the night before just so someone could prove to me that they were actually there. Horrendous. Memory loss aside, I had fun and it was nice of those who were around to come out or say happy birthday. The combined efforts of many may well have prevented my inevitable suicide due to excessive life span.


Sunday held a visit to Leeds with my good friends Emma and Fred to see my future wife and her brother play at a lovely venue called The Wardrobe. The ever wonderful Angus and Julia Stone played an awesome set, during which I pretty much wept at the beauty of the what may be some of my favourite songs from the best looking siblings I know. I swear there was a point during their performance where Julia stared me straight in the eyes for a good ten seconds and I literally felt my heart stop. If you open the picture at the bottom of this blog and squint real hard you just about make out my head in amongst the crowd of the show.  If you want a good starting point, this is maybe my favourite song of theirs, although they have loads of consistently pleasant tunes. If you do already know them, then you should know that Julia's got a new solo LP out called 'The Memory Machine'. I've only had a chance to listen to through once, but from what I gathered, it's more delicious folky goodness. 


On Monday things were calm so I took time to relax and look some stuff over. Unfortunately for me, this meant I fell into a deep hole, filled with a Smörgåsbord of emotional turmoil, worry and fear, all concerning that at the age of twenty, I should have done more with my life. I took a mortifying test which told me I'd only been to 8% of the world and that "I've got a lot to do!", I almost started tying a noose I swear. However, I resolved to make a list of things that I'd like to achieve, see or do at some point in my life. There's the simple ones - learn a new language fluently, live in New York, make love to Rachel McAdams. But then there's also a couple more outlandish ones - go to space, be a millionaire, win an Oscar etc. It's growing longer by the day, and I'm never guna have time to do them all but I think it's nice to have plans, even if they're ridiculous. It was Publius Vergilius Maro, a Greek poet, who wrote "Audaces fortuna iuvat" meaning "fortune favours the brave". I suppose I have to push the boat out at some point. Here's hoping I make it to 21.

Rankin.

I've said before that I don't really claim to know much about art or photography, but if you want something to look at go on Rankin's website. He's been making creative, inventive images for years now so if you're after something to inspire you or just like looking at pictures, he's worth a gander.
Buy his books, find out what he's done, watch his films. WIKIPEDIA KNOWS EVERYTHING.

That Facebook film and entering the void.

It was always going to be a difficult subject. It's too contemporary, it's glamourising the life of fame, the subject matter's not strong enough, no one gives a shit. Unfortunately 'The Social Network' has turned out to possibly be film of the year (with 'Inception' nipping at it's heels). It is what it says on the cover - the story of Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook and how everyone he knows tried to get money out of him. That's two hours condensed into a sentence, but it is worth your own time to watch the full movie.


David Fincher (director of 'Fight Club' and ridiculously named 'Se7en'), has done an amazing job of making every character in the film instantly interesting and complex. Jesse are-you-sure-I'm-not-Michael-Cera Eisenberg puts in a stellar performance as the website's founder, making him relatable but at the same time, come across as a snark asshole. Andrew Garfield (soon to be the new improved Spiderman) plays the part of scorned best friend excellently. There's not much else I can say other than go and watch it. The scripting is some of the best seen for fucking ages, the cinematography is consistently good and it's incredibly easy to watch. Time magazine said that "The rewards for paying attention are mammoth and exhilarating. This is a high-IQ movie that gives viewers an IQ high" but you don't have to be a genius to know this film's good.


I've seen a few films that made me feel sick in my time. That bit in 'The Pianist' where the Nazis chuck that old man off a balcony, that was pretty nasty.  In 'Trainspotting' when they find that dead baby, also mega nasty. That bit in 'Misery' where that fat bitch Kathy Bates goes to town on James Caan's foot, that was pretty bad. HOWEVER. None of that stuff means shit until you've seen Gasper Noe's 'Enter the Void'. I might be exaggerating, it might just be my awful sense of balance, but that film literally fucked me over like a steam roller. I don't know what it was specifically. Maybe it was the shot from inside a vagina of a penis cumming on the screen? Maybe the POV shot as a character walks down about 40 flights of stairs? Oh I know, it might have been the 10 minutes of panic inducing, epileptic fit style credits at the beginning of the film? I'm not saying it's bad. Quite the opposite in fact. The whole thing's beautiful. Set in Tokyo, it tells the story of a drug dealer who gets killed and afterwards, comes back as a ghost to watch over his sister. It sounds simple, but the story's intertwined with a load of other tales and events. There are flashbacks and flashforwards and dream sequences and drug sequences and shots from below and shots from above. There's less structure to this fucking film than there is to a jenga tower. Yet, in spite of everything, it still manages to be instantly captivating. The film bombards you visually with colours and constant on-screen action. The sounds and story keep you constantly glued. At two and a half hours long it's not exactly a walk in the park, but there's so much shit happening all the time you don't really notice. It won't be for everyone, in fact it won't be for most, But for those who do persevere, they'll be rewarded with one of the most aesthetically pleasing and interesting films for an extremely long time. You can find a link for where to watch the film here, but don't fucking tell your mum I sent you there. If you can be bothered to get it on DVD, or if you've got a projector watch the film on that, the bigger it is the more likely you are to feel like you're mental afterwards. Thanks to Ashley Rommelrath and others for letting me know about the film.