- S t u c k - O n - E a s y -

The Plan (so far)

2011-12-24T03:31:00.004Z

1. Move. Tick!
2. Romance.
3. Career.
4. Bicycle.
5. Car.
6. Education.

(not necessarily in that order)

You better believe our show is going to rock ultimate!

2010-06-08T01:00:00.003+01:00

First of all, I realise I never really have anything interesting to say, but thank you all reading chumps for humouring me through six years of being a blogger, it's been a fun way to wile away the time that I'd otherwise just be watching telly and scratching myself and stuff.

Second of all, you really must look at this picture.

Third of all, have a read of this first draft of

Danger Historian 2: Get The Fuck Out

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT

Two boys GORDON and DANIEL are walking through a dark countryside, it is a clear night, but there is very little light. A Twilight Zone-esque tune overlays the first moments of this scene, and fades out to GORDON waffling about Doctor Who, which shall probably be ad-libbed on shooting.

GORDON
...The fact is, Jon Pertwee really was Britain's answer to Captain Kirk.  The fact that previous generations of The Doctor's first reaction was to 'run away', Pertwee's Doctor could karate chop his foes into submission with one unconvincing shwing, and was fully trained in Venutian Aikido, if the two got into a fight, who'd you reckon would win?

GORDON looks around. DANIEL has fallen behind.

GORDON
Daniel?  Dude, where are you?  (pauses) Daniel!

GORDON pauses for a moment before walking back in the direction he'd came. He gets out his phone and dials DANIEL'S mobile. There is no answer, and goes straight to voicemail. Continuing back along the path, picking up pace now, each shot is dynamic and camera unsteady. GORDON eventually arrives at a wall, and decides to follow it back toward street light.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

GORDON arrives back at the cottage door, DANIEL is no where to be seen. GORDON unlocks the door, has one last look around, and heads inside.

INT. COTTAGE LIVINGROOM - NIGHT

GORDON sits down in the lowly-lit livingroom, and stares into middle distance for a moment, before reaching for the home phone and giving DANIEL another call. Still no answer, but this time GORDON leaves a message.

GORDON
Hey, dude, I'm back at the house now, couldn't find you, sorry. If you need to call, I'm gonna stay up anyway, so... Where are you man?

FADE TO:

INT. COTTAGE LIVINGROOM - MORNING

GORDON wakes up suddenly in his chair, and sitting next to him is DANIEL, also sleeping where he is sat.

GORDON
Woah, Daniel!  When the fuck d'you come in?

DANIEL
(Awakening suddenly, startled)
Uh, I, dunno.

GORDON
Where'd you go last night?

DANIEL
I'll tell you where...

DANIEL looks directly into the camera with an excited look in his eye. The camera zooms in as the screen FADES TO:

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT

The fading rants about Doctor Who alert us to the fact that we have skipped back to last night. DANIEL is falling behind rapidly as he stumbles along, to busy looking through some Magic cards he has brought along.

DANIEL
(Gleefully)
Captivating Vampire, you little priiick!

Torchlight suddenly fills DANIEL's face, blinding him for a moment.

[MYSTERIOUS FIGURE] is out of focus and in silhouette for a moment.

[MYSTERIOUS FIGURE]
You there!  What are you doing here?

DANIEL
Who the hell are you?

We pull slowly into focus and the [MYSTERIOUS FIGURE] is revealed as none other than KEIR LAWSON.

KEIR LAWSON
I'm Keir Lawson, now get the fuck out of my documentary!

CUT TO:

The theme song, preferably composed by REALISTIC SUSAN & THE WEEGIE BOARDS but in any case a 70's funk style track. The title Danger Historian 2: Get The Fuck Out rolls over a series of shots of KEIR LAWSON dancing and generally posing.

CUT TO:

KEIR LAWSON standing in midshot delivering an introduction to his documentary, while DANIEL stares confused into the camera, still slightly blinded by the lights.

The following sequence will be scripted on location and improvised. The following will occur and emerge through the backdrop of the Danger Historian documentary. Basically lots of dramatic shots of DANIEL screaming 'why?!' progressively louder and with more desperation. KEIR LAWSON'S conclusion to the documentary however will be told in the style of a comforting word of advice to DANIEL as KEIR LAWSON places a hand on his shoulder.

CUT TO:

INT. COTTAGE LIVINGROOM - MORNING

GORDON wakes up suddenly, and looks to the seat where DANIEL was sitting. DANIEL is not there. DANIEL was never there. He reaches quickly to the phone and dials DANIEL'S number. No answer. GORDON turns to camera, which zooms quickly into a close up.

GORDON
Where's Daniel?

CUT TO:

EXT. ROCKY HILLSIDE - DAY

A wide shot of a hillside landscape, somewhere hidden is DANIEL, only partially visible. Across the screen flashes the words 'Where's Daniel?' as a game show spike tunes in.

FADE TO BLACK

An interlude, if you will ladies and gentlemen, as we enjoy a clip show of quality home movie moments from the holiday.

FADE TO:

EXT. ROCKY HILLSIDE - DAY

The same wideshot, flashing words and games show tune are used. A drum-roll rolls. The camera zooms in toward where DANIEL is hiding, who then emerges, answers his phone, and winks at the camera. The words 'YOU FOUND DANIEL!' flash on screen.

FADE TO CREDITS

As credits roll, preferably more dancing. Definitely more dancing.

"Like A Friendly Easter Island Statue with a Bow Tie"

2010-04-29T23:58:00.006+01:00

I can't help but feel a little righteous (okay, quite a bit righteous) regarding Matt Smith's obvious success with establishing himself as The Doctor. The confident bounce in his delivery is impressive, a frankly seamless magic trick where there is both at once the recogniseable arrogance and urgency of his predecessors as well as a sweeping shift in tone; a New Man.

Whereas The Doctors 9 and 10 were weighted by the trauma of war, the realisation of mortality and general guilt and loneliness, this Doctor v11.0 has finally shaken off the angst and self-pity, instead running off in a feverish love affair with his own desire for adventure. Underlying all the 'woe is me'-ing of Tennant's apologies for getting everyone in such a mess was the blatant thrill of danger and uncertainty; The Doctor was a closet Indiana Jones. This Doctor, he's well up for some jeopardy! Having spent (more than) enough time settling scores and tying up loose ends with old friends, he's off to rekindle the eager fugitive-detective days of yesteryear with nary a care in the world.

That's all in the here and now though. Why were we so confident and enthusiastic for this new doctor when he was first revealed nearly a year before Tennant had even ended his tenure? Well, obviously in Steven Moffat we trusted, the newly appointed head writer and executive producer clearly had his reasons. The man clearly adores Doctor Who, and revels in timey-wimey narratives, so why would anyone doubt him? I'm not sure if this is anything new, but certainly in the past few years, a TV writer's reputation has been considerably more instrumental in a show's success, certainly in sci-fi anyway, if not since the rise and rise of American TV drama as a whole. Nevertheless, the unveiling of Matt Smith as The Doctor revealed that a large chunk of the viewing public, as always, were adverse to the idea of any bold change.

I was utterly dismayed by the number of people I personally know who (in some cases) were prepared to outright abandon the show on the basis of Matt Smith's weird-ass face. On a side note, let it be noted that in my particular sample of case-studies, these were all women who made this point - how odd, you might think, considering the general rage at the constant absence of normal (read: ugly) people in the media. Thank you very much Tennant and Barrowman (shakes fist), your pretty boy looks have led the public to assume that Doctor Who, in its Saturday night light entertainment slot is a place reserved for someone to sit back and sigh quietly and gently swoon after, when in fact...

Oh, wait... "It was this or a french maid outfit". Phwoah. Just give me a minute or two, ta.

Yeah, alright, I'm just going to have to let Matt Smith's weird face go; I'm far too happy to have Karen Gillan's redhead kissogram running about on the telebox to tackle this issue with any credibility. I mean just look at her. Sigh. Swoon.

Somewhat back on track, though keep Karen Gillan in mind, I'm coming back to her, Steven Moffat has an agenda. Firstly, the most major of changes to the show were largely directorial, with a delicately more filmic appearance and in physical design, with the exuberant and flamboyant shift to Barbarella-esque (Barbarellaean?) 60s flair, it seems this series has discovered what exactly makes Doctor Who a true gem of contemporary British design. It's the melding of the kitsch and domestic with the grand and inventive (the 3D glasses that see particles from other dimensions, the elegant and epic steampunk time machine hidden inside a phone box, the pocket watch that contains the secrets of a Timelord, a terrifying unseen entity borne from the bickering of a self-scaremongering crowd of Daily Mail types etc. ).

Hey, that last example wasn't an example of design, that was an example of scripting! Yes, yes, you're right there, Hypethetical Reader of Blog. Suck me off - stream of consciousness coming through.

I'm eager to see where Moffat's Doctor's character arc is headed; it's far too early to tell, I know. What he has made clear is his vision of Doctor Who as a fairy tale, which is an exceptional angle to elaborate upon. Certainly in the past, Moffat's stories have revolved around bump-in-the-night style creatures, and our introduction to Amelia Pond was simply spellbinding. In fact, the series opener very much introduced Pond as our chief protagonist, and the Doctor the magic and mystery at the bottom of the garden. How far this fairy tale will extend, I'm not sure yet - though that 'crack in the world' that keeps following them about, I would guess, indicates that that first story isn't entirely done with, and like any good fairy tale, it'll be our heroine's responsibility to fix it, the Doctor will only be the herald and facilitator to such an end. Well, maybe; that's my prediction anyway.

Och, I never actually mentioned Karen Gillan's Amy Pond there, just the little girl version, which isn't exactly what I'd had in mind. Cue unmotivated picture.

Finally, lets talk about Moffat's Scottish Agenda. I'm keen to see how this one plays out, and how audiences react to it. At first glance, its incredibly jarring, and not at all subtly imposed; I can imagine many an English viewer wondering why they're getting Scottish nationalism shoved down their throats. A wise move then to place episode two upon the Starship UK (side note: though its the weakest episode so far, there are some brilliant ideas in this one, just not enough time given to any one of them).

Since New Who began, the show has held a rather uncomfortable nationalistic pride of queen and country. For the most part, I can forgive them for simply trying to both mimic the quintessentially British hallmarks of the series' history (the past forty years of Doctor Who are more or less a map of British identity and sensibilities - more on Old Who another time though) as well as admirably trying to establish a personality separate from the successful template of American science fiction. Nonetheless, once Russell T. Davies got a taste for it, he just couldn't stop bumming the Queen (har har) and the pride of Britain was just all too much.

The Beast Below (another side note: I'm going to have to write another post dedicated to just how much sex is written between the lines of this new series... The Beast Below, now really...) was set upon a ship filled with 'British' people, covered in 'British' iconography, except no one on the ship are Scottish (they got their own ship). Nothing of the standard Doctor Who depiction of British life has changed, they still use the Union Jack, and there's very little reflection of Scottish identity other than Pond's accent marking her out as unusual. I'm very often told that I read too much into television, to which I reply Nonsense! and wave my arts degree in the air, to which they then humour me, because speaking at length about film and tv is about the only luxury it can afford me right now, but anyway!

I reckon these quips about the Scottish, particularly in this context are far more cynical and questioning of the series' portrayal of cultural identity in general than mere stamps of ownership from a Scottish writer. I'd love to see what effect this movement has on future episodes, whether the animosity over representation is explored, or the whole thing cooled and put to rest; on the one hand, you've got Winston Churchill portrayed as a bit of a thief, not to mention, a leader of the daleks, but on the other hand, they suggested that The Doctor got his hole with Elizabeth I.

Tough Edit

2010-03-28T21:40:00.002+01:00

Once again, I begin with an apology to my blog; yet again, I have left far too much space between far too little content of value (though that picture of Britain was pretty kick ass).

It's not like I've not been 'blogging' at all though; I've become rather swept up in micro-blogging instead. I must admit, I've fallen in love with twitter, its scatter-shot opinion and news gathering style suits my routines and habits as I wonder haphazardly through the series of tubes.

Still, I always feel sorry for my blog; long has it been neglected. Again. I've tried, honest I have; since August, I've saved 11 uncompleted drafts:

1x Magic spoiler speculation;
1x Thoughts on the American TV renaissance;
2x Depressed moans about being a poor Film Studies graduate in a recession, threatened with credit card debt, and the embarrassing prospect of having to move back home merely six months after having been a relatively financially independent and happy student;
1x The Kepler Mission;
1x Love of Autumn;
1x Love of a comfy chair;
1x Holiday movie thoughts;
2x Being depressingly single, and thoughts on why.
2x Doctor Who

These have remained unfinished for one of two reasons. In some instances, I've given myself a slap and decided not to feel sorry for myself and rant so self-indulgently, and in others, I've just felt my rants were embarrassingly inferior to what else I was reading on the web, and that my initial point would ultimately be best explained by merely posting a collection of links to better articles. I don't know why the latter bothers me quite so much, I mean its not as if I've really bothered with quality control in my blogs before.

...And actually, on that note, I decided to delete what originally followed that sentence (further complaints, moans and self-indulgent nonsense about not writing gooder). Just get on with it Gordon. I hereby relinquish my inferiority complex, and embrace the ensuing wave of cliches, sweeping generalisations and half-baked opinions. I've watched too much Doctor Who not to say something about it; watching the old series is a bloody Film studies module in itself. And Magic: The Gathering. I mean yeescht, I have to explain that one to myself, never mind anyone else. And the Kepler mission is just incredible.

I'm less enthusiastic about Autumn though, Spring and Summer have dibs on my hopes and dreams these days.

Wrap up warm inside your tauntaun

2010-01-08T00:40:00.003Z

Timey-Wimey Stuff

2010-01-03T01:43:00.003Z

...and there, as I'm sure you're all aware, goes David Tennant, sauntering off from a ridiculously well-received tenure as The Doctor. What a relief as well to see Russell T. Davies actually pull off his final episode with the gravitas he deserved.

Yes, I'm choosing to largely ignore part 1; while it was all good fun (mostly because, y'know, it was Doctor Who), but it was now clearly an hour of build-up for the proper showdown. They just didn't know how to tackle Donna, a character who was very boldly given a tragic end (to experience brilliance, only to be cast into ignorance). I understand that by bringing Wilfred back, whose character's importance was so utterly justified in the finale, that Donna would have to be tackled, but she only ever stood as a burden to the rest of the script. Oh well.

Absolutely loved Timothy Dalton's Rassilon - every bit as intimidating as the character's legend from the old series deserved (Rassilon was effectively one of the first time lords, having invented Time Travel, and viciously sought immortality). The Master too, OOF, unutterably good.

Showdowns. Phwoar. First off, there's the six-shooter stand-off; very western, yes, but also kinda steampunk, which the new series of Doctor Who has always lavished itself in, and I can't get enough of it. Facing up to what are effectively two opposing races of timelords with nothing but a six-shooter, aw yeah. And for the record, I adored the insane plan of jumping out of a spaceship with the gun in hand. Yippee kay ay motherfuckers.

I did kinda bore of the goodbye montage at the end, but to a greater more indulgent extent, I lapped it up. The visit to see Rose; oh, very Buffy/ Angel romance brooding. And getting Jack his hole - priceless.

How would the death of Doctor No. 10 have looked if he didn't hang about for a lengthy goodbye though? Well, the moment we hear Wilfred tapping away on the door, it was inevitable his death was going to be damned emotional. "Waiting for me all this time", he scolds Wildred. Exactly what this incarnation of the Doctor has been searching for from the beginning. I reckon I'd have been very happy if The Doctor had died in that little glass box, regenerated from that indignant crippled pile. But then that would be dark as fuck, and pretty harsh. Nah, I was happy with the path they took, despite it sometimes collapsing with the weight of duty (they really needn't have bothered visiting Sarah Jane, Martha, and Donna (again), but I see why they did). Crawling from his meeting with Rose back into the Tardis was lavishly indulgent poetry.

"I don't want to go". Famous last words, and they finally tie up Davies' 'Lonely God' arc to a triumphant close. And now for Matt Smith; I can't fucking wait!

2009-12-26T13:36:00.002Z

2009-11-12T21:20:00.003Z

Courtesy of milkround.com, "first for graduate careers".

Fucking dreading working in that shitty toy shop tomorrow.

Visitors

2009-11-05T17:18:00.002Z

Blogging without an audience isn't the most interesting thing to do with my time. So I watch TV instead. But then I go to work the next day, and Keir demands an update, which reminds me that actually, I do have an audience (hooray) but they just don't 2.0 it up and comment back. That or I'm not writing anything worth commenting on.

Which is fine, because I kinda feel like talking about what TV I watched last night.

A new show from the colonies 'V', starring Morena Baccarin and Alan Tudyk (y'know, Wash and Inara from Firefly) as well as Joel Gretch (y'know, Tom Baldwin from The 4400) instantly hooked my affection through some abstract support of cancelled classics. Add to the mix Juliette from Lost and there really becomes no argument for any heterosexual male not to watch. Also, seeing as Six Feet Under alumni spotting is always fun, Keith's black bodyguard friend's in it (though he was a bit rubbish).

Aside from listing cast though, it's about very attractive aliens coming to Earth and wanting to make peace with us all, except they some sinister little plot going on behind the scenes, and know how to work the media.

While I was watching, I convinced myself that the aliens represented evangelist Christians, but that inevitably won't be true (though how good will that be if it was?). The good guys consist of a disillusioned priest, a manipulated journalist, and a mother who's son has been wooed by the peaceful and friendly propaganda. It's a long shot, but that's what I'm hoping for.

At the same time though, the aliens bring promise of hope, peace, health care, a love affair with liberal press, CHANGE. Perhaps an anti-Obama sci-fi? Hmm.

Nah, it's probably just about sexy aliens, and I always had a soft spot for Species, so I'll just keep watching for now.

Slow mo is pretty sweet

2009-10-26T13:48:00.001Z

Dude, like woah, you totally need to see this.

http://napalmdragon.com/

So 1.0

2009-10-22T14:31:00.003+01:00

I'm finding it difficult to connect with the internet at the moment. Not that there's anything wrong with the flat's connection; on the contrary, it's certainly the best set up I've personally had, and it's not like I'm not making use of the bandwidth or what-have-you. This social networking thing though, and generally keeping up to date with email correspondance, is something I'm clearly not getting into anymore.

Strange maybe, seeing as I was pretty keen on it previously (though admittedly I remember holding a somewhat snobbish disregard for it to begin with). I suspect that initial love affair with facebook and blogging had much to do with me having just left school and an eagerness to keep in touch with a network of friends that had now dispersed across the country. Cut to a few years later, and those school era friendships have been filtered by time and lack of effort, and most of the people in the world who I care to speak to I either work with, live with, go to university with, or hang out with on a weekly, if not daily, basis; not much need for online networking anymore.

Nevertheless, I'm trying, vainly, to get back into the habit now that I've moved to Edinburgh, away from uni, away from work and away from home, and I'm now realising just how incontactable I actually am.

I'm well aware that it is myself that doesn't make it easy for others - after all, I rarely carry my phone about with me, and when I do, I refuse to reply to texts until a time that suits me (and that's when I have credit). In my defense, my phone habits are borne from an mildly OCDish paranoia of what thing is in which pocket and how secure it is in there. That, and how it's just easier to be carrying as little as possible. And that I am quietly annoyed by people who text while in conversation with me. And that people who want to know who and what you are texting really piss me off, so I just don't bother.

Excuses, excuses. Fact is, I need to get on top of keeping in touch, because there are plenty of people that are clearly making more of an effort, and I'd like to meet them halfway.

Television

2009-09-12T16:34:00.002+01:00

It really is rather ridiculous these pangs of enthusiasm I find myself having for the next series of Doctor Who. I mean really, it's still a year away!

I have utterly immersed myself in the series now, watching all the DVDs in chronological order, and now catching up on the gaps now that I can torrent. And now that I'll be watching the ones what Martha Jones was in with Dave, that's three versions of the Doctor I'm submitting too.

I just thought I'd state here, on this, where all my ill-planned and careless thoughts are stored until they are read again (so, just me, in three or four years time), that I'm really excited about the 11th doctor, and think his costume is excellent. Let's hope they drop the whole british nationalist wank they've been paradeing throughout David Tennant's reign though.

Hmm, television. I like television, more than films or books these days. While Doctor Who fills up all my day-to-day obsessive enthusiast tendancies, there is an incredible plethora of entertainment on its way before the year is through.

Dollhouse season 2 starts on the 25th September, and I cannot wait. I'm jittery with excitement. And only a week after the finale of True Blood season 2! Haw, man, sweet.

If you've not seen either of these shows, and can't promise me now that you will watch them soon, well, we need to reconsider some core principles in our relationship. Personally, they are the two most highly recommended shows I can think of that are on right now.

Then there's Dexter coming back! 'Caprica' and 'The Plan' - those crazy Battlestar spin-offs! New 4400... alright, I lied there, sorry. But new South Park!

Alright, I'm just having a geek wank, so I will bring this post, yet another fascinating and enlightening one at that, to an end, and return to the work I should be doing - cleaning the database post-fringe. Fun.

A proud resident of Falcon Heights

2009-08-27T08:43:00.005+01:00

Ugh, I spend too much time with a computer these days; when I'm home, my laptop is reduced to a mere DVD player (but my, what a DVD player!) and the internet just doesn't seem an interesting enough time waster.

So I'm writing from work instead, and ignoring pesky customers.

The work of which I'm referring to is of course the Traverse Box Office, which I've been residing in throughout this year's festival. Jolly good fun so it is, though bloody busy. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to start looking very seriously for a proper job sooner than I thought, as the hours I'm going to get post-festival are depressingly few. We'll see - the hunt starts now.

Well, sort of now, I'm at work y'know, and I've got a blog to rattle out.

As is probably inferred from me working in Edinburgh, I am now living in Edinburgh! Fookin' brilliant so it is, properly enjoying myself. With Conor, Dave and Ted (the cat) as flatmates, things are pretty sweet, I love my as-yet-undecorated room (though I do have the giant head of Michael C Hall watching over me, so that's ok) - I will give you a guided tour of the flat in good time, revealing the incredible secret fourth floor of Falcon Heights.

This all means however that I've now left the Byre. Very sad face. I was sorry to leave, and probably would've been happy to stay if it wasn't for my itching desire to leave home and St. Andrews, to seek fame and fortune (ha) in the big city. It was an excellent night out for my leaving do, and a lovely way to send off three years of happy employment.

Annoyingly, I'm still paying off the debt I put myself in by buying that HD video camera, but unable to use it because I left the cables in Fife... But once they are reunited, I'm hoping to make a few silly bits with Dave, so this page will likely look less like a dump site for impersonal youtube videos in the coming months.

Well, I say likely, I mean, well, there's so much good tv to watch, so...

Me? Pacman.

2009-07-13T02:02:00.001+01:00

Yeah yeah, I'll get round to writing you a decent something, but for now, watch this.

One month to fit into a Traverse Box Office uniform

2009-06-26T21:59:00.005+01:00

I'm just under the 14 stone mark on the scales for the first time in ages, so let's keep things that way alright?

Graduat'd

2009-06-24T23:07:00.003+01:00

Actually a pretty awesome day. Parents never met each other so the universe didn't end. No, wait, that's Back To The Future. My worries for the whole event were over-thought, with me underestimating my Dad's own insistance of evasion of Mum, and thus the whole day was double-plus good.

Brilliant sunshine, blisteringly hot, speeches alright (initially disappointed I had to graduate a year after Dame Diana Rigg retired as Chancellor, but James Naughtie - that guy what presents Today on Radio 4 - was a good speaker, and in any case was far more fitting considering Today was prescribed listening for the past two years). John Reid gave a decent speech on questioning stuff, and not letting religious dogma get in the way. Bumped into everyone I'd want to bump into, and got along really well with with the girl sitting next to me, which was good because I didn't know anyone in my line. Carvery for tea. Chocolate Brownie Sundae for dessert. Win!

We never did find Marceau's grave

2009-05-04T15:25:00.007+01:00

After getting far too interested in the topic of our perception of time, and whizzing through a couple of books on the subject, I've been looking at the past three weeks in a funny way. In one sense, they have absolutely zoomed by thanks to all the unusual things I've been doing. On the other hand however, now that it's all over, the three weeks feel like they've lasted months. If I'd sat about, scratched myself and watched tv, the weeks would condense into a single vacuous memory. Instead, despite having thought 'wow, today has flown by', the result of several unique and interesting things have formed more solid, individual memories, making the weeks greater than the sum of their parts. So hooray for that! Now, what was doing?

Well, The first week, I flew to Belgium for a few days, chaperoning the Byre's Youth Theatre on a NTS exchange. A superb experience; I got to join in the workshops they did with the group we met, Kopergietery, in a fascinating little theatre. We also got a chance to see what I considered a genuinely mind-blowing piece of theatre: taking place inside a velodrome, with mtorbikes, volleyball players, prog rockers, a guy dressed as a hamburger, a huge choir, powerpoint presentations told through dance... Can't say I understood a thing, but my jaw collapsed and never recovered from start to finish.

As soon as I got off the plane back in Scotland, I was off to join the rest of my film group for a week of filming in a spare slot in a shopping centre. I must say, it did feel very professional having our own space, and not worry about getting in anyone's way.

There was also one evening of shooting in Glasgow, where some Turkish guy tried his best pick uplines on me, and tried to get me back to his hotel room ("I win big on casino!"; "Hotel key, yes?"). All of this took place in a chip shop, so I couldn't quite walk away... all very awkward.

Then it was off to Paris! The final scene of the film, just a tiny bit really, is set in Paris, and trying to break records for ambition, we really thought it best that it be on location. So a great time all round! The first day, we filmed stuff, then chilled out. The second day, we chilled out a bit more. One of the absolute highlights had to be Pere- Lachaise Cemetary, home to the graves of the likes of Oscar Wilde, George Melies, Jim Morrison, Marcel Marceau and Edith Piaf. An astounding experience, just a brilliant place to go for a walk and see some beautiful statues. Oscar Wilde's was a difinite highlight, while Jim Morrison's was a sad disappointment, having been cleared of effigies and candles. George Melies on the other hand was wonderfully modest in size, but with the utterly brillant title: Createur du Spectacle Cinematographique.

If you've not seen La lune à un mètre (Trip To The Moon), what have you been doing? Bloody well see it.

Anyway, back home, and we got into editing full swing. It looks good, I'm very happy with it, even though the pop soundtrack destroyed even me after two whole nights of editing. Still, it all worked very well in terms of my love of forcing things into neat nostalgic little boxes - we test screened it in the first lecture theatre I ever had a class in, and followed it up with a lovely last lecture of my time in university. It gets screened in the Mainhouse of the Macroberts on Friday!

Rounding off the week, I headed to the Glasgow SECC for Bob Dylan (still a)Live. Hmm, well. It was seated, which I didn't realise when we bought the tickets, but everyone stands anyway, so being a short guy, I lose. Fortunately, I was drunk enough that I could sacrifice all my front-of-house hang ups about not sitting where I'm told, and went for a little wander. Got sitting two rows away for Maggie's Farm, which was awesome, since I'm only really aware of his earlier stuff. But I kept getting moved, and by the time I got bored of this little trick, I was too far away to even care that Dylan was even in the same room. Still, that's a better position than not seeing at all. Still, if he's not going to make a performance out of the gig, which I wouldn't expect him to, I'd at least hope to appreciate hearing him live. Well, tough luck, the SECC sounds just like what it is, a giant metal box. It's a shame, I'd love to have enjoyed him more, and though I can say I was there, that's really not a big deal.

Instead of ending on a sour note, I'll leave you with a funny subtitle fail, just because I didn't know how to fit it properly into conversation...

This is probably why Dollhouse is failing.

2009-04-12T13:57:00.001+01:00

Look into his eyes...

Are you a Paul Ballard fan?

You're better than this Whedon!

Please listen.

2009-03-29T04:39:00.001+01:00

Or search on youtube for 'Tim Minchin, Storm' if this one is removed.

Ursus Arctos Horribilis - WIN

2009-03-21T01:49:00.003Z

1. What is the best thing you've ever been called (either an adjective, title or nickname) and why was it the best?

Today's questions were posed by Keir, and reading this first one, I have to assume he was expecting to get a lovely pat on the ego with my answer - primarily because Keir has concocted the majority of nicknames I've willingly adopted.

Anything that came before Keir was hideously unimaginative - growing up through the nineties in Britain with Gordon for a name really can only lead to one association - Gordon the Gopher. Although vaguely irritating in primary school, I'd be happy to adopt the nickname of gopherboy and what have you over the bullying previous Gordons must have endured during the seventies (Gordon Is A Moron etc.). Still, pretty shit imaginations kids can have, eh?

Other unimaginative nicknames have included variations on the original - Gogsie, Gordy, Gordo, Gogs, Gorgonzola, and so on and so forth. I'm not complaining, I quite like people playing with my name, and having an email or text addressed to G-dawg, Gordonocus or Gordonovan tends to add a little indication of what mood it was written in.

As for nicknames I've created for myself, well, let's try to forget the horrid MrTtheMessiah - a case of ill-thought online identities that unfortunately stuck. Not really a nickname either. At the other end of the spectrum however is Shoogle. Created in response to all the bloke-ish tough names people create for themselves on multiplayer Halo, I went for something disarmingly inoffensive monicker: 'Fucktard was killed by Shoogle', though I also like that it means 'give it a shake' - huh, huh huh.

Regardless, Keir does have a penchant for nicknames I must say, and as a result I have two joint favourites. First off - Nodders. I've taken it to my heart, it's simple and not nearly as in-jokey as people seem to assume. My name backwards: Nodrog; and from that, Nodders; done. Plenty people have called me Nodrog, but Keir's little addition just tickles me in all the right places. Sorry, I mean huge, throbbing addition.

The other favourite, an altogether more obscure title: Crackerhonky. A brilliantly silly genesis, horrendously in-jokey, it's stuck and I love it to bits primarily for the memory and tone it evokes by its use. Also, to readily have a callsign at hand is oddly wonderful.

3. If you could be any animal, except a badger, what animal would you be?

Ah, of course, because badgers are a given... A wonderful question sir, I laughed loudly at my laptop on reading this one.

Easy answer me thinks. A grizzly bear. Okay, humans are fucking with their habitats, and life can be tough anyway, but come on, to be a bloody grizzly bear! When the salmon run is in full swing, and the sun is beating down, you couldn't not love life. Fuck cats and their comfy domestic lives, fuck dolphins and their smug attitudes, fuck the birds - yeah, they've got flight, but they're all just gimps when you think about it. Nah, grizzly bears have it by a mile. Polar bears would be equally as awesome, but how depressing must life be sometimes? Still, they certainly prove the worth of being a bear in any given situation - with other polar creatures, penguins particularly, my thoughts waver between 'well, if you must persist, you're really bringing it on yourself' and 'why even bother?!' Bears just think 'aw, fuck that', and invade Alaska. Kinda.

Blooper Reel

2009-03-05T14:53:00.002Z

To those doing a dissertation right now, you would do well to turn away right now.

Click To Play... Bitch.

Or, Maybe It Was Schindler's Fist...

2009-02-19T18:35:00.005Z

This rounds off Davus' questions then -

3. What do you think of humanity's curious habit of taking drugs in all their wonderful colours? Penny for your thoughts on the issue.

I'm trying hard not answer this with the arrogant 'why not?' that first popped up in my head. When I think of it, I've probably concerned myself more with the thought of why people don't want to do drugs, in which case the answer gets tangled up in the matter of legality - I've never got round to wondering about why people would do them in the first place.
As far as I can tell, reasons for that initial choice to take drugs can be lumped into two general categories. First off, there are those that turn to drugs as a means of self-medication, by which I include those that see drugs as an escape from a bad situation, whatever that may be. Then there's those that do it for altogether more recreational purposes, by which I include those that are just curious, and those that do it because someone else is doing it.

Now, the reasons for the first group's choices are pretty much self-explanatory, but the second group isn't so clear. Well, apart from the ones just trying to be cool; they're just fudds. And those that are just curious, good on them - that's almost reason enough for me anyway.

However, for those that have got their drugs of choice and avoided any serious addiction to them - I'm including all sorts, alcohol, caffeine - and have decided 'yeah, this'll do me good to do again...', that's the curious bit.

Well, surely its simply the fact that they benefit on whatever scale from the effects of the drug, be it the merely the enjoyment of the effect it has on mind or body.

Does morality have to come into it at all? Nah, don't think so. If anything, being used in a responsible manner (it's doing no one else any harm, and its not an addiction), it can only be a good thing, seeing as its providing personal happiness, which has got to count for something. Sure, an addiction would provide personal happiness; only in the short-term though.

Somewhat on the topic, I just want to share a word I learned recently. The Balinese word Nadi, (pronounced NOD-ee) which means 'to temporarily inhabit another dimension', is a word that would do well to be used more prolifically. In this book, it is suggested that words such as 'trance' have developed a bad reputation, having associated the word with "a state of stupor or hypnotic enslavement, of total dissolution of will". Yet it is noted that great minds of art and science have admitted that some of their greatest works have been borne from a trance. Nadi, connotes a beneficial variety of trance, a daydream where you return bearing gifts. I feel this is an important sentiment when trying to understand the ever-fascinating experience (so I've heard anyway) of doing weed, for example.

5. When was the last time you cried and why? If you're not comfortable answering this, then when was the last time you felt truly sad and why?

Genuinely, the last time I cried was most likely in front of a film. Some people scoff at that, but hey, a film is engineered to evoke certain emotional responses, and I watch good films. Unfortunately, I can't remember for certain which film it was, as it was a while ago. Diving Bell And The Butterfly perhaps. That or Full Metal Jackoff.

That's likely not the answer you were looking for though. So in answer to when was I last truly sad. Again, I'm not all that sure. But you can bet on it being something to do with my Dad. Man, do we not get along...

It's all sort of insignificant, isn't it?

2009-02-09T04:55:00.003Z

Did I mention I won't be answering any of these questions in any apparent order? Well, there you go. Still, both are from Dave:

2. Have you ever had a religious experience? This doesn't have to relate to God or any known religion, it could be a feeling of transcendence, something 'other' to the material world that we inhabit, or it could be a feeling of being overwhelmed by the mystery and wonder of existence.

With every waking moment... what, are you saying that's not normal?

Yes, I suppose I have. What I find very difficult in explaining something like this though is an irritating awareness that what feels extremely profound to myself is at the same time, quite laughable to another. I've been made to feel pretty stupid in the past for being intoxicated by, y'know, when really I have nothing to be ashamed of - but nevertheless, I'm still occasionally hesitant in vocalising my own impression of the experience without toning it down. Nevertheless, when I do try to explain the truly bizarre, I struggle articulate properly, and though trying my hardest, I sometimes can't represent it properly, so I feel silly explaining. It's not half as bad as that sounds - like explaining an awesome dream, something's always lost in translation, but ah well, I'm the one who experienced it, and that's what matters.

Firstly, while under the influence of laughing gas (...I was at the dentist...), I had a truly wonderful time. My brain seems to insist that most of my experiences with N2O involve some interstellar travel - this is what I mean where things get lost in translation. It's very hard for me to take something like this seriously (and why would I? Getting blasted out the universe and thinking with a 56k dial-up modem brain is a funny concept), but at the time, it's the most awe-inspiring experience. However, that's not being blown away by the wonder of existence though, just blown away.

Secondly, while under the influence of chocolate cake (not entirely irrelevant), during our first group holiday to the west coast, Conor, Dave and I went wandering late at night. Now, this was perhaps the most perfect, and wonderfully Mediterranean weather I could hope to find in Scotland, and so the sky never really got dark, but the stars came out as full as they possibly could. It was beautiful. Truly remarkable. With absolutely no light pollution from the land, the stars shone easily, and most importantly, exhibited a proper sense of three dimensions in space - and resultantly, our relation to them and our own position in space.

And there it was: my cosmic angst. How entirely inconsequential we are in the grandest scale of things. This is a wonderful feeling, incredibly freeing. I don't remember what we particularly talked about that night, but I was certainly engulfed by thought. How selfish religions are in their persistence of believing humanity is so special. The sheer scale. The wonder of life elsewhere, or indeed, the wonder of no life elsewhere. Wow. WOW.

4. It's the year 2029. What's your life like?

Considering that even now, I am utterly spellbound by the idea that we're coming toward the end of the naughties, and my brain is still in the process of dealing in multiples of decades (1999 was ten years ago... Holy shit, doesn't that blow you away?!), I have a sneaking suspicion I'll be thinking 'Holy shit! I'm 41, and I'm still wondering what I'll be when I grow up!'

By 41, assuming I've not been firing blanks, I'm fairly certain I will be a father, or trying to be one. It's a prospect that really interests me. Genetic experimentation - awesome. On many levels, it's such a shame that it's not acceptable for me to establish control and comparative studies without annoying the girlfriend/wife. I think I will be an awesome dad. I've always wondered whether my dad thought that about himself. There's one of the oddest relationships I'll ever have in my life. Hmm. Yeah, I'm going to be awesome at that particular role.

I mentioned 'wife' earlier. Just to be clear - I'd prefer not to marry. Marriage is a silly prospect with all its financial ties and such. The language and symbolism of implied ownership of another person doesn't bother me in the slightest as long as it goes both ways, and I'd make sure it did. My reluctance to marry is fairly recent, yet I assure you, entirely independent of my own parents split (I utterly abhor the suggestion that it is related on any emotional level - very patronising). This all being said however, I'm rather aware that I may very well meet someone that quite likes the idea of getting married (these kind of people are quite prolific I hear), and I'm fine with that. I'll try to dissuade them from it, and their decision following this may very well decide where the relationship is going, but if it's make or break (and if I decide I'd rather make) then I'm not really all that opposed to the idea.

It's wonderful to think how much my friends right now seem like such a sturdy constant. I'm still a very close friend with Conor, a close friend from Primary school. My core group of friends, four years later, are still pretty much the exact core group I had in secondary school. That's pretty uncommon, right? Especially when I think how good I am at making new friends (I do appreciate this particular ability). I have a funny image in my head that my social life will be remarkably similar to the one I have right now. To assimilate the image of family life and social life.... I don't think I'd have too much of a problem. Certainly, I won't (and quite adamantly so) follow my Dad's example of only ever meeting friends once a week at the local pub (that was when I was young, his present lack of social life terrifies me). Nah, I've nothing to worry about here. I'm going to be a very social 41 year old, and people will surely be naming babies after me around about this time - 'Gordon' will surge in popularity.

Careerwise, who knows? I honestly have no idea, neither do I have any real intentions - I have absolutely no serious aspirations to any particular job title. It does however look like I'm headed for a career in the operational side of the entertainment or cultural sector. Working at the Byre has been a fascinating experience. As an usher, I've seen more plays in one year than a lot of people have seen in their entire lifetime. That's a basic pay job (ha, 'job') and I've got an opinion on an art-form that a lot of people can only bullshit about. As a manager, I've become (apparently noticeably) a far more confident person, and my people skills have come on leaps and bounds. Common sense goes miles farther than any academically-gradeable skill, so I've got to thank my lucky stars for that. As part of the box office team, I've learnt that a desk job (with really rather boring tasks to perform) can be one of the best jobs possible as long as you've got the right people around you. Fuck me, when I leave the Byre, I'm going to miss a lot of people.
I've not given a straight answer on the career front. Honestly, I'd be pretty damned happy if I was running a little cafe that played old movies every evening. Or CEO of the Byre. Or producer for my brother's next film. Or children's animation workshop tutor. Something like that.

Searching For The New Sound

2009-02-04T21:40:00.009Z

I'm going to post one or two questions at a time. Yeah, fair enough, this game is somewhat consuming my blog, but I'm enjoying your questions just as much as any other topic, and this way, I can dedicate just the right length not to fatigue you all. So, with wonderful pictures from the great Abdul Nusrat, an answer for Dave:

1. You're the key creative force behind a great band. Describe your sound.

I've gotta thank you for this opportunity, I really think the world is ready for the tuneful stylings of Cracker Honky's Shindig Collective.

Described as 'an utterly bewildering revision of folk-punk with a nod to jazz and a wink to soul' (The Guardian), the band are instantly recogniseable thanks to a concoction of several ingredients. Firstly, there is the deep, warm sound of double bass and the labyrinthine piano stylings (provided by Just Five Fingers Lawson and Davus 'FUCK POP' Heitler respectively). Together, the listener is swept up in a strange vision of New Orleans where steampunk has taken over. The steampunk aesthetic is wonderfully illustrated by Sound-smith, occasional vocalist and bongo-master Cracker Honky Strachan by a clear embrace of pioneering sound technology (to the extent that one wonders whether Strachan harbours a fetish for such equipment). If you've ever wondered how the music of The Wild West might have sounded if they only had a decent synthesizer, Cracker Honkey is your best bet of finding your answer. On guitar (acoustic or electric, depending on how he feels on the night) is Corndog 'Mo' Guacamole' McStay, his sound being the pillar of the punk aspect of the outfit. Though Corndog's roots lie mainly in the prog genre, having already cemented his place in history alongside 'Yes' and 'Mike Oldfield', his desires to race into 'Prog Archives' history are negotiated by a contractual deal that the band only perform gigs on evenings of no wind. This gives Cracker Honky's Shindig Collective's concerts an entirely unusual tone (and to an extent, an unusual following) as fans famously bring kites with them to gigs in the event that the wind picks up, so that they can join Corndog in flight each time he dashes from the stage.

Also with the band is lead vocalist Mu-c, who's stunning range and engaging tone lends to the band's sound a versatility that could see an album, such as 2009's upcoming release Party With Patsy, ranging from Marvin Gaye-esque smoothness to the theatrical boldness of Nick Cave. Cracker Honkey tends to step in with Jeff Mangum, of Neutral Milk Hotel, style vocals. Incidentally, Neutral Milk Hotel will be reforming especially to support the band on their next tour.

Regular collaborative artists are Chloe 'Citrus Killer' Belcher (massive recorder) and Papa Collins (trumpet), who appear on each album, particularly on the epic tracks, where the band feel the sound is just too epic for them to carry alone.

Questions For Other People

2009-01-26T02:31:00.004Z

Alright, I've got my questions for Suzi and Dave, who both requested for me to interview them.

I hope you like them! If you fancy firing questions back at me, I'd be happy to give them answers.

Questions for Suzi

1. What is the most recent thing you've put off longer than is really necessary or appropriate, and why?

2. It's 2019, you're 31 years old, where would you hope to be by then? How determined are you to make this reality?

3. Aside from the odd chance meeting, I've not seen you for over 2 years. How different, if at all, do you think you are since we last properly hung out?

4. What's the nicest compliment you've received recently about you (as opposed to a compliment about something you've done).

5. By your reckoning, am I, Gordon Strachan, going to hell, and why/ why not?

Questions for Dave

1. Why a career following art, and not science?

2. I can't help noticing that people can't help noticing that your hair is ginger - how do you feel about being subject to one of Britain's most accepted discriminations?

3. You can't do anything about it, what's done is done... But using my time machine, I can let you revisit three moments in your life (as an unseen, inconsequential observer, of course). Five minutes ago, or five minutes old, it's up to you; what scene demands an audience with you-right-now?

4. Who would play you in a film? This may well have two answers, so: who'd have the easiest time looking the part, and who'd have the easiest time playing the part?

5. What man-made structure, inside or out, could hold its own when compared to the sight of a good sunrise? Would it win?

Question 5

2009-01-17T03:25:00.004Z

And so for Question 5. I shall reiterate the rules, as I would love to do some interviewing myself. Those that have already requested - I'll send you your questions very soon.

•Leave me a comment requesting an interview.

•I will e-mail you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

•You then answer the questions on your blog.

•You should also post these rules along with an offer to interview anyone else who e-mails you wanting to be interviewed.

•Anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog.

•It would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger.

5. If you were to 'take up' a religion, which one would appeal to you most of all?

Those American gospel choir folk seem to enjoy themselves, but at what cost? AT WHAT COST, EH?!

Bhuddism apparantly isn't all that bad, but I've never been interested enough to look into it; from an outsider view, it seems so very boring. The old Greek gods have always fascinated me, and while belief in them would probably feel like a constant cry for mercy, their self-interested affairs and exploits always looked far more interesting, and certainly more believable than anything my casual protestant Christian upbringing ever showed me. Alas, that religion is dead and gone. Decisions, decisions.

If I were to decide now that I needed religion - that is to say, if for some incomprehensible reason, perhaps following a tragic accident in which my frontal lobe is toasted, destroying all logic functions, but thankfully leaving my capacity for creative thought unharmed - I would hope I'd still have the good sense to avoid Christianity, which says I'm fucked if I can't lead an entirely good life. Say I live a charitable life, I'm good to my neighbours, etcetera etcetera but as much as I've been fighting it, and God knows I should be able to, since it's a choice an' all, I realise I'm gay and start bumming said neighbour... Shit. Hell it is. Really? All or nothing? You mean I can't pick and choose what the Bible (in all its Word Of God circular reasoning bullshit) is saying? The Pope says no, and if you disagree, then what, the Bible, in part at least, is wrong? Uh.

No, I'd go for Hinduism, definitely. I like their style, I could do the whole complete holy life thing, or I could just live my life as I please (in which case, I'm not going to do anything immoral anyway) and my reward after life will be calculated accordingly. Seems fair enough. Atheism, to an extent, is joyfully compatible too, seeing as God can be interpreted as being in all things (but not in that omnipotent, working through all things way), which to all practical purposes makes God fairly irrelevant, and more of a metaphor for the whole 'circle of life' conservation of energy sort of thing.

The notion of karma doesn't really bother me at all, being far less intrusive than any shitty superstitions I've heard of, and in any case seems remarkably close to 'wishful thinking' (which is just as useful and unuseful in varying measures), which I'm already guilty of anyhow.

The cow thing - seeing as they respect them, as opposed to worshipping them as some think - doesn't seem all that silly.

It's the reincarnation and implication of a soul that would be difficult to accept if it weren't for that injury to the frontal lobe. Let's say I just accept the soul thing, believing that my everlasting soul escapes my body at death and becomes part of the rest of nature and all that. Right, sorted - an idea so abstract that it might as well be irrelevant (the concept seems no different to me than an Atheist's concept of inexistence). But reincarnation just doesn't make sense to me at all. Firstly, restricting it to sentient beings, the numbers don't add up - there are more sentient beings than ever before, to the point that the majority have entirely new souls. However, it's not restricted to sentient beings - if I'm really unlucky/lucky, I'll come back as a tree or something. Ok, let's say I accept that. In my life as a tree though, how can a tree live either a good or bad life? It can't; it just... is. Perhaps its goodness comes from its uses (the tree provides shelter for a poor little homeless orphan in a rain storm for instance), but I never chose to do that; if karma's tallying up what I have no say in anyway, why bother at all?

Well, thanks to my fried frontal lobe, I needn't worry about such things, so a Hindu I would become. Besides it seeming the least offending of religions, it is also the most appealing to me (one doesn't necessarily infer the other). Hinduism seems to have by far a more positive relationship with the cultures and societies that host it than Christianity ever does with ours.

Question Time

2009-01-14T23:50:00.010Z

This is a very interesting idea; Nikita sent me five personalised questions to answer here, the answers of which I'm pretty proud of - excellent questions by the way, so thank you. However, as my answer to question five is as long as the first four combined, I'm going to keep it for the following post, thus sparing you such fatigue.

First, the rules:
•Leave me a comment requesting an interview.
•I will e-mail you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
•You then answer the questions on your blog.
•You should also post these rules along with an offer to interview anyone else who e-mails you wanting to be interviewed.
•Anyone who asks to be interviewed should be sent 5 questions to answer on their blog.
•It would be nice if the questions were individualized for each blogger.

1. Have you ever written anything which has made you feel happy right down to your core? If yes, what was it about?

Not right down to the core; I'm always either far too critical of anything I've done, or too apathetic to improve on anything I'm kinda chuffed with. However (in no apparent order):
1) An essay on eroticism in Citizen Kane. I was looking to do something actually worthwhile with the essay, so I thought fuck it, and ended up getting a 1C and an underlined 'really liked this'. Yeah.
2) Perhaps because of the circumstances in which it was conceived, a short story about the end of the world, written for a summer project with Davus as a gift for Conor (just cos), is something that actually, I'm pretty bloody chuffed with. Especially so when I turned it into a properly edited radio drama - probably my favourite thing to come out of coursework so far.
3) That time I wrote an essay about Tess of The D'Urbevilles without ever actually reading it, just using notes from class time, and how it still got a B.
4) I remember thinking fuck yeah after a creative writing piece for Standard Grade - it was all about a terrorist strike (or something) where lots of people died of too much laughing gas. Uh, yeah...

2. What one of the characteristics you see in yourself do you think could be used to define you?

I have to admit, I am kinda proud (and certainly relieved) that people seem taken by my laugh, and how much I seem to use it. Is a laugh a characteristic? Well, not necessarily of my personality as such, but it's a good indication that I'm a happy and friendly guy. Or disturbed and nervous.

3. Would you sleep with your best-friend's partner if you truly felt that you loved them?

Does the best friend have to know about it?

Heh, ok, no. What would be the point? I couldn't possibly believe that anyone is so important that I'd risk ruining any of my friend's happiness for. I mean come on, suck it up. Honestly (and this probably isn't always a good thing), it's probably in my nature to just say 'ah well'. Even still, I know better than to believe in a 'one true love'; there's always someone else. There's just far too much risk of heartache for other parties, of which I'm not at all prepared to gamble on.

4. Have you ever stayed up all night?

Hahahahahahahahahahaha - far too often probably, but why not? I'll sleep when I'm dead, as Bon Jovi once said. Most nights, whether I have work at 9 the next day, I'll be going to bed at 3 or 4 (right now, it is 3.54am), so staying up all night has never been much of a stretch. Though I do always promise myself that I'll make a raised effort to chill out and indulge the next day. It's only fair.

In a dark, dark street there was...

2009-01-14T02:46:00.003Z

How irritating; I was sitting in bed, already to write a blog, and then do a bit of reading before inevitably having to sleep, but at the same time I opened my laptop, we got a power cut. Humph.

Mind you, I've always loved power cuts, and I'm not entirely sure why, since they generally get in the way of something that I'm doing at the time. Personally, a power cut brings about the same excitement as seeing a bit of snow in the air, an experience I've always felt so compelled to share with anyone around me at the time, no matter how obvious it is to them (does anyone greet snowfall with quiet indifference? I hope not. ).

A slightly odd experience when everyone's in bed, and therefore, no one else cares. It really felt like something I ought to tell someone. But nah. I just lay there restless (slightly irritated by the fact that while I know there are three candles next to me, there's not a chance I'd manage to find my lighter), and think about the bit where Bilbo wakes up in a pitch black room, and wonders whether he'd even opened his eyes at all. I try fooling my brain into thinking my eyes are shut. It didn't work in case you were wondering.

Of course, silly me, I forgot to actually switch off the lights, so half an hour later, the lights all pop back on, and well, should I continue with my intentions of blogging? Well, why not?

Why not? As Davus has pointed out, I should probably have someone around to answer that question at all times... I think my relationship with this question shall be the subject of my next post since I never managed to get around to it this time...

Another Year, Another Blog

2009-01-07T01:51:00.010Z

I suppose it was inevitable. I'm just a sucker for categorising.

I had one blog, and that went rather well actually, above average readership at points, and oft updated, without any feelings of obligation.

Then, I thought, how about I show and tell all my photos on another blog, so that the pictures could all be kept together for neatness' sake. This was a largely laborious addition to my blogging routine, and all aspirations and intentions were defeated by blogger's terrible uploading system.

Despite all this, one day I decided that to get me back into the spirit of blogging, and updating what blogs I had already, I should really start yet another new blog, this time to keep all my videos in a neat pile. That didn't last long. Making a video each week is tough enough, but if no one's looking, what's the point?

Eventually, I did get into the idea of making an effort at blogging again, but at the same time, I was doing an Online Journalism course, which sapped all my energy for net publishing, and while the blog connected to my website might actually have been good if I stuck at it, I, well, didn't stick at it.

And now, as a new year begins, I am consolidating and starting anew. As long as I do one thing I'm half proud of each month, I'll be happy. There we are, a new year's resolution just like that.

You wanna see what we did for New Year?

Well, we stacked Macbook Pros. 'Cos we could.

We accepted no half measures.
Handsome devils.
Uh, well... And a sunset on a New Year's Day.

I can only hope 2009 makes as much sense as this video.

Click to play... Bitch.