Posts Tagged ‘Television’

The year we make contact

Highlights of the year thus far:

  • Breaking Bad - discovered through work colleagues, the ongoing saga of a middle-aged chemistry teacher who discovers he has terminal cancer, and with nothing to lose sets up a crystal meth lab, proves to be consistently entertaining and amusing well into its second season, although I’m slightly concerned that the friends who recommended it were pretty insistent it was the ‘wrongest’ thing on television, bigging it up in my head as Chris Morris’s Oz or somesuch, and yet sitting there watching it, all I can think is how utterly reasonable it all seems.
  • Not freezing to death during one of January’s many cold snaps. Fucking hell, it’s been cold in the flat though. I hand in my notice next week, which means I should be out of this shithole by mid-April, thank fuck.
  • Catching up on As It Occurs To Me, which I completely failed to listen to in the run up to Christmas. Richard Herring as brilliantly puerile as ever. Why won’t people let him be on the telly? I also caught his Hitler Moustache show at the Leicester square theatre last week. I saw a pre-Edinburgh preview last year, which was pretty funny, but this was a much more refined, focused act, with lots of new material. He’s a very funny man.
  • In a similarly late to the party vein, I also picked up the first issue of Dodgem Logic. The Moore stuff is predictably essential, Graham Lineham and Josie Long’s contributions are brief but brilliant, with everything else coming across as a bit meh… And yet, whilst there’s a vein of knee-jerk hippy bollocks there, something appeals about the just-throw-everything-at-the-page editorial direction. It’s the sort of thing I feel should be being done better somewhere on the internet, and yet for some reason isn’t. Interesting to see how it develops.
  • Saw Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes. Not great, but nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be.
  • My love of Grant Morrison’s ongoing Bat-saga is unconditional and unfailing, which I’m sure will come as a surprise to no one, so isn’t something I’ll go into here. His new creator-owned series Joe The Barbarian on the other hand, was an unknown quantity as I managed to completely miss all the hype and the interviews. I needn’t have worried of course - the first issue is a slowly paced scene-setter, but sets up the series concept beautifully, with incredibly lush artwork by the previously unknown to me Sean Murphy.
  • Booking myself a trip to SXSW in Austin next month. Not that physically booking it was really much of a highlight, but something to look forward to. I used to joke about how I was boycotting America whilst George W. Bush was in power, but I’ve recently realised I did, in fact, boycott America whilst George W. Bush was in power.

I like the way I teased doing essay-length posts in my end of year round up, but have in fact made even less effort, resorting to bullet points rather than full posts. Something else I started doing this year was Project 365 - a photo a day for a year. Well, the loss of my camera lead, coupled with a few drunken nights where I forgot I was supposed to be taking a picture at some point meant I didn’t even make it through January (seems wholly appropriate the dream was born and died in a pub, mind. I only heard about it the day before NYE, chatting to a colleague in a pub, moments before he made off into the night with a stolen clay pot). Looks like my online fail is destined to continue. Thank you for your continued patience.

Oh God, why is the internet so slow in this house?

Hmm. I did promise to say something about my holiday, didn’t I? A post of sorts exists in notebook form, but looking over it, it’s a rather dull effort so I’m probably going to consign it to the ether. The short version is I went walking in the Lake District towards the end of October, and had a very nice time. There’re pictures and everything.

At the start of the year, I had the goal of doing a minimum of a blog post a month, which obviously I didn’t stick to, and then after my personal life imploded I assumed I’d have a lot more time on my hands and thought hey - maybe I can manage two or three a month - but that didn’t happen either. To be honest, I’ve thrown myself into my day job a bit over the last eight months, and haven’t felt I’ve had a lot to write about (although 15 posts is slightly better than what you would have got in the original plan…). I have to rethink what I want to use this place for again, I think. Most of the blogs I’ve followed over the years have abandoned news/links/micro-posts because there are better outlets for that sort of thing now. The trend seems to be for longer essays, which of course takes time and effort. And if I was going to go down that route, I’d like to do something that might actually be of interest to anyone apart from immediate friends and family - as I’ve pretty much done everything a blogger could do to drive casual traffic away from this site over the last few years, it might be nice to come up with something that might conceivably attract an audience for a change. Less prattling about meeeeeeee next year whatever happens, I reckon.

Creatively, as ever, I need to get more writing done. I’m also getting a bit hacked off with stuff I actually make the effort to finish and place ending up with publications that subsequently crash or disappear without trace. I’m hardly prolific, and the fact the one or two pieces I’m proudest of have effectively been in limbo - in some cases for years - is pretty sickening. I recently found out my major completed project of last year, for a book that was supposed to be out last January, probably now isn’t going to be in the book at all, and will likely end up as a promotional pdf. All very demoralising, and I certainly need to rethink my focus next year.

I’d thought about doing a separate best of the year post, but I think I’ll just blurt it all out here: Book: Bad Vibes, Music: St Vincent - Actor, Film: Moon, TV: Err, The Inbetweeners? Was that this year? It was for me, Comic: Batman: RIP - fuck you internet, I loved it.

See you next year, unless I get chatty between now and new year. Have a good one.

I often dream of trains

Generally speaking, my experience of trains involves daily commutes on our increasingly dilapidated underground system or else impossibly crammed Friday afternoon virgin train carriages heading northwards, so it’s easy to forget they’re actually my preferred form of transportation. When it works it’s relaxed, comfortable, even dignified, and allows time and opportunity to lose one self in the scenery. It helps that I usually take long trips for good reasons. Last month, trains took me to Bristol to see an old friend, and this month they took me to Exeter to see an entirely different old friend.

Travelling west always feels peculiar. I lived for a long time in the M3/M4 corridor of course, so there’s plenty of personal memories and genera life detritus associated with that particular, most Ballardian of landscapes, however over the years a number of my oldest friends have, through chance rather than choice, drifted westwards and the act of visiting them - reconnecting with good times past - has lent the journey a slightly unreal, almost mystical feeling of going back in time, a feeling the landscape of rolling hills, fairy mounds and standing stones only serves to accentuate. Like I say, peculiar.

Anyway, my point is long train rides through the country, weekends with good company, sunshine and the seaside rock.

Also on the train, I read Michael Pollan’s In Defence of Food, a short eating manifesto preceeded by 200-odd pages of argument  as to why you should adopt it. It offers much food (haha) for thought. At times Pollan seems to be adopting a mildly anti-science, preachy new-agey tone of which I’m instinctively sceptical, however his argument is more broadly anti-bad science, in particular science he believes is biased or outright compromised by food manufacturers. His main target is ‘nutritionism’ - the reductionist view that the value of food is entirely derived from the sum of its nutritional components, and the only value of eating is to promote bodily health. Pollan provides many examples of just how tenuous that argument is, and exposes the health claims of many food manufacturers as at best a quasi-science ill-supported by real research. The manifesto itself is delightfully simple and revolves around advice like: eat with company; avoid anything with more than five ingredients on the label; cook; and the book’s core message, “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants”. Pollan makes a convincing argument and offers workable solutions. I’m already finding myself trying to follow some of his advice, checking food labels, going all-organic, and generally worrying myself about becoming too middle-class. As someone who’s general diet has gone completely to pot over the last few months though, this feels like a very positive step in the right direction. Cheers, Michael.

I’ve been following Harper’s Island on iPlayer. It’s advertised as a mystery thriller, the novelty being a character gets killed off every episode, with even the cast none the wiser as to what order they were going to be offed in until the day of shooting where their number gets called. Nice idea, except it really isn’t all that suspenseful waiting to see which muppet gets to die, and the killings themselves feel a bit tagged on to the end of every episode. It’s essentially a slasher film dragged out to thirteen-odd episodes, but I have a weakness for slashers, and whist the characters are every bit as inept and uncurious as their big screen counterparts, I’m finding it oddly compelling viewing.

Still Life

Spent the weekend up North, chilling with the parents. Went for a walk in the Lakes, ate a lot of good food, and broke the back of Iain M Banks’ Matter, which I’ve been struggling to get to grips with in tube journey sized chunks. It’s my first Culture novel in maybe… ten years? Nice to be reminded why I pray for Contact to show up each and every day. I started wanting to read it after enjoying the R4 adaptation of The State of the Art, in which the Culture consider assimilating the Earth but are driven off by the sheer awfulness of the 1970s. That bastard decade has a lot to answer for.

Not really warming to Psychoville. It feels very much like LoG-lite, and the fairly lifeless direction only serves to remind how important Steve Bendelack was to the success of the League. I also - God help me - watched Torchwood on the strength of various Twitterfolks’ ravings whilst it was on. Well, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, but all in all I think I much preferred it the first time round. I am, however, really enjoying the latest series of Mitchell & Webb, which has really come into its own this season.

Discovered Sarah Pinborough whilst roaming on Twitter. I actually met her at Fantasycon in… 2002? Had no idea she was a published writer though. JT and I were really quite drunk and talked to her and friends about Milton Keynes and other topics for what I remember as being quite some time before they politely excused themselves and went off to hear the no doubt more eloquent and inspiring Graham Joyce speak. Anyway, the following morning I awoke to find an answerphone message on my mobile from an unfamiliar female voice thanking me for a great time and asking when we could get together again. I was in a relationship at the time, and not really going out a lot, so naturally I not unreasonably assumed it must be the people I’d been talking to the previous evening. I remember being utterly horrified (and yet quietly intrigued and a little bit impressed) as to how I’d managed to chat someone up, give them my phone number and been so charming I’d merited an almost immediate follow-up call - and yet had no memory of it whatsover. As it turned out, it was an entirely unrelated practical joke by another mate’s girlfriend, who bizarrely chose the only evening that month I’d been talking to single women outside of a work situation to make her opening gambit. Who says the universe has no sense of humour. Anyway, that’s my (sort of) Sarah Pinborough story. Now I know she has five well-reviewed novels to her name, I have ordered one and will let you know how that works out for me in due course.

Otherwise, it’s turning out too be a quiet week in which I endeavor to not spend any cash. Have to decide whether or not to play football in the park this evening. It’s exercise - good - but it also means inevitable pubage afterwards, which is a considerably greyer area.

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