Oscar party for one

Ooh it's The Oscars! Penelope Cruth is wearing Versace and diamonds by Chopard. She's looking a bit orangery though. Rachel Vice has amazing lipstick, and is Vera Wanged out. She's very porcelin, reminding me of a beautiful vase. Cameron Diaz is boring in white, and again very orange. Djimon Honsu is wearing a nice jacket, double breasted (I think) with a burgundy lining thing. I hope Eva Green does something nice with her hair, and doesn't backcomb it like at the Baaaftas.

Here's who I think will win:

Best Actor: Forest Whitaker
Best Actress: Helen Mirren

Best Supporting Actor: Alan Arkin
Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson

Directing: The Departed
Best Picture: The Queen

Screenplay Adapted: Notes on a Scandal
Screenplay Original: Little Miss Sunshine

Animated Feature: Happy Feet
Art Direction: Pan's Labyrinth
Cinamatography: Children of Men

Costume Design: The Devil Wears Prada
Documentary Feature: An Inconvenient Truth

Film Editing: United 93
Foreign Language: Pan's Labyrinth
Makeup: Pan's Labyrinth

Original Score: The Good German
Original Song: "Love You I Do" - Dreamgirls
Visual Effects: Superman


And here's who I wanna win:

Best Actor: Forest Whitaker
Best Actress: Helen Mirren

Best Supporting Actor: Eddie Murphy or Alan Arkin
Best Supporting Actress: Abigail Breslin

Directing: United 93
Best Picture: Little Miss Sunshine

Screenplay Adapted: Borat
Screenplay Original: Little Miss Sunshine

I have a feeling in my waters that Peter O'Toole'll win and Little Miss Sunshine might win Best Picture, and some actings awards. Go Abi!

Also, I have two days off tomorrow. I haven't been on holiday in a whole day.

Hmm...Rio maybe?

Back home

Just back from Holland now, managed to make it in time for MOTD (Match of the Day), an added bonus.

Spent the day chilling out in Amsterdam smoking prostitutes and looking at joints. Or something like that.

I think I've walked about 30-40 miles in the last 10 days. Plus I've imbibed lots of things I'm not used to, such as European culture, the food, the drink. I miss garlic, ginger and chillis. And bananas.

Back to work tomorrow, the daily grind...drudgery...books.

Forgive me if I'm in a mood all day.

Holland

I'm in Holland.

Bit knackered after being awake for 24 hours yesterday. Went out and drank Groslch, ate pancakes and chips and mayonnaise. Had more pancakes today and a Chocomel mit Slagroom (Hot Chocolate with cream).

At the moment, I'm in the studio of my painter friend in North Holland, and gonna catch the train back to in Amsterdam later to sample more of it's delights.


Peace out.

"She's a Maneater, make you buy cars / make you cut cards..."

Just got back from the Nelly Furtado concert and am frantically packing for Amsterdam tomorrow (well not really coz I'm writing this blog). She's so cool, so great, so lovely. She did some good remixes of her old songs, and loads of stuff from the new album. Lots of toe tapping, knee slapping, hand waving and singing alongness. And she did Powerless (yay!). But she didn't do On The Radio (boo!). I suppose that's always the case, you kind of end up slightly dissapointed when they don't do the songs you really love. But she did give so much, so I'm happy.

...

Barcelona is so yesterday. Amsterdam is where it's at, darlings. (Ok, I'll stop all this 'ooh la-di-dah-ness' before it begins to grate).

Dazzler gave me some advice, as I popped into the bookshop earlier today to buy an Amsterdam guide.

"Remember, don't smoke too much."

"Right."

"And use protection"

"Er, ok."


Soft drugs, hookers and beer, I guess it is then. Looks like I can finally spend that tax refund after all.

Bye Bye Barca

Adios mes amigos.

Went to the Picasso museum in the Old Town and had a pleasant stroll looking at his developmental works. I think his best stuff´s in the Prado in Madrid or dotted around the world in other galleries, but it was nice to get an overview of his stuff.

I´m really really tired, all this walking is taking its toll. Time to go home methinks.

Tapasco sauce.

Spent the day shopping and saw a couple of lovely medieval churches, all around the Old Town/Barri Gotic area. Went into Zara and bought 3 jumpers, and then Footlocker for some polo shirts and H&M for another one. Popped into Sfera and El Cortes Ingles though couldn´t see anything nice, but all in all a good day spent. Am very very tired though, coz have done a lot of walking, eating and drinking, and no swimming, jogging or yogaing.

Went to a lovely tapas restaurant just now, so have finally eaten some Spanish food. To be honest, I´m slightly bored of Barca, and am more looking forward to Amsterdam. Did I forget to mention I´m off to Amsterdam on Thursday? Oh yes, a quick stopover in London on Wednesday to catch Nelly Furtado in Hammersmith, and then off to Holland on Thursday till Saturday. Chips and mayonnaise, pancakes, and Anne Frank`s House, here I come. Well, have to make the most of my 10 days holiday.

I´m a bit knackered though, so I don´t know how I´m gonna get through this big week of mine, especially with going back to work on Sunday and the Oscars Sunday night. I never miss the Oscars. I think it´ll be a foregone conclusion this year, with Helen Mirren and Forrest Whittaker winning, and probably Scorcese getting his (undeserved) Best Director gong for The Departed. I´m pretty sure Little Miss Sunshine will win Best Original Screenplay, so much so that I´ve laid a tenner on it with moody.

Going Picasso Museo tomorrow, and then back to Blighty I go.

Have you fed the fish?

I think the maids are messing with me. For a start they´ve been reading my Nuts. I came in the other day and found it deposited prominently on the table, away from it´s usual position secreted under a chair.

And today, when I got back to the room, they only left me with one towel. On holiday, I prefer at least 2 bath towels and a face towel, and maybe one for the bathroom floor. It ain´t a holiday without at least two daily showers with fresh towels after each wash. I love holiday showers. The jets are so strong, underneath them I feel my eyeballs being pushed closer inside my skull.

...

Went to the Sagrada Familia today, and on the Bus Turistic. Am getting a clearer idea of the city now. It´s so liveable: the metro´s brilliant and there´s good food and things to do. The Sagrada Familia was impressive, but I can see where a lot of people seem to have problems with Gaudi, and the whole ´moderniste´ thing. I for one prefer Roman/Gothic arches and straight lines, but Gaudi´s cool too. I´m getting used to the wavy curve.

The Sagrada is essentially a huge building site, his unfinished masterpiece that has already taken like a century to get this far. It´s funded by donations and from the entrance fees and should be finished in 30 years or so. Consequently the interior of the cathedral is full of cranes and building materials. My mum, after walking through it, promptly declared it a ´waste of money´. However, I made her apologise to a mini Gaudi stood beside a model of the Sagrada. ´Sorry Gaudi´she said.

Apparently he was killed by a tram in 1929. Poor bloke.

...

At a push I´d say I prefer Madrid to Barca because of the 24 hour city/laid back attitude thing, but I guess it would be nice to go to Barca in the summer. I´ll see how the shopping goes tomorrow. I want to buy a shirt from Zara that I can guarantee no one else has back home. No stripes, no black nor pink, and no slim fit. It´s getting increasingly rare to have an individual style nowadays, what with blokes all wearing the same shirts.

Just ate a pumpkin risotto but it was very salty. Risotto´s Spanish, right? Either way I´m going for a curry tomorrow.

Am a bit drnuk and full of Chinese food.

Yeah, so am at the gates of the Nou Camp like, and guess who comes along?


Only bleeding Ronaldhino and the rest of the Barca team.


One by one, Ronaldhino, Motta, Marquez, Giuly, Gudjohnsen, Van Bronhurst, Messi (!!), Oleguer and Rijkaard, all get on the Barca bus. No Eto'o though, apparently he´s been left out of the squad to face Valencia tomorrow.

Ronaldhino even gave me a thumbs up!

Yay!

Then pissed it down and we had to buy children´s sized Barca FC umbrollies. We still got wet.

Yay!

Barca Baby

Barcelona baby, waaaaaaaaay!


No bananas so far, but I ate a cornish style pasty which was great. I may post a photo of it some time. Barca´s pretty cool, very very liveable, it would be nice to spend a few months here chilling out and looking for bananas.

Going to check out the Sagrada Familia, and maybe the Nou Camp later on, after I´ve had a coffee and a croissant.

Em, remember remember remember to feed the fish.

Otherwise they might die :(

Living on the edge.

On my way to work once, I ate this intimidating banana:

What am I supposed to do with this?

Mind how you go

Getting there

All done.

Morality schmorality.

Given that Beckyboo and Ritchieroo are soon about to “do the right thing”, I’ve been thinking a lot about morality recently.

The other day we had an event instore with lots of kids making cardboard spiders. It was much fun, albeit tiring. Plus I got a chance to talk to small children and give them sweets without being arrested. As a stubbly Asian man aged between 20-35, any day that passes by without being arrested is, well, once less day without being arrested.

The little ‘uns are so adorable, if you talk to them in a reasonable manner they respond in kind. They are without prejudice….little containers of curiosity and wonder.

Later, a guy came in looking for the latest ‘arry Po'er book. I showed him the paperback on shelf (£8.99), but remembered we were selling the hardback for £2.99. Anyway I found myself wanting him to buy the paperback partly because a) I’m lazy, and b) I find myself moving on the slippery slope towards a ‘sales mentality’. I’m becoming jaded. However, I stopped myself for a moment, realised this, and gave him the cheaper one.

How do you stop yourself becoming morally jaded, and be more like the children? At some stage prejudice, intolerance, bigotry will find a way to piece their subtle minds.


Some difficulties occurred when construting the spiders. I naturally assume spiders are male, so I say “and, what would you like to call him?” during the crucial point of bestowing a name to spider.

“Rosin” comes the reply.
“Oh, ok” says I.

The next child comes along.
“So what would you like to call it?”, says I, bearing in mind the spider’s feelings.
“Her, what do you want to call her!” shrieks child.

I started to think about this for a bit. What is the generic gender of a cardboard spider? What would s/he prefer to be called. Doesn’t the spider have a choice in all this?

Hmm.
…

I saw United 93 the other day, found it very moving. However, one thing bugged me during it, and it was what nice glasses the head terrorist had. I really, really want those glasses. They were rimless, and kind of silvery. I mean it’s not the glasses’ fault they happened to be perched on the nose of a terrorist. I had this exchange with moody on tills:

“Mate, it’s a fucking shite film man, it’s invasive, fucking emotional terrorism.”
“- Yeah, it was terrorism.”


Stupid morality.

You have 17 missed calls from the above caller…..

Woke up on Thursday (snow day) to the following voicemail from moody:

“Dude wake the fuck up maaaaan, god its snowing and I need to do a photo and I’ve got a great idea its gotta to be in the day so wake up man, fuckin hell, laters”


Turns out he wanted me to pose naked in the snow, the darkness of my skin contrasting with the whiteness blah blah blah. Anyway, I declined, but was very much up for posing. I practiced my intense stare, and went off with him to find a field of snow. We found a mound nearby, clambered on it, and began to pose. Apparently I can stand still very well. I must put that as a skill on my CV. I think it’s a combination of many hours standing at the Globe, being on my feet all day at work, and my increasingly mystical yogic powers. Incidently my body did something incredible in yoga on Friday. I can’t really describe it exactly, but let’s just say I was pleasantly surprised. And no, it’s not what you think.

Inspired by moody and my experience in the snow, I decided to take some photos of my day snowed in, as seen below:

Grillup in the snow

Unfortunately after its exertions in the snow, my grillup required reheating. The compromises one makes in life.

It was pretty hard to keep my eyeballs open while posing, what with the ‘snow blindness’, but I think moody was pretty happy with the results. He can do unique things with a lens, and to discover more, I went out with him at night to scope out some locations. After driving around and taking some shots, we ended up in the McDonalds car park looking at puddles. It was dark and cold, but he managed to get a good shot by a large puddle. Some figures in a white van began to pull into the car park. Sensing danger, moody quickly gathered his things. “Are we splitting?” says I. “Yeah, let’s be off”. The strangers sped towards us, and after me being doused by the van driving over our puddle, we scattered off into the night.

Comment ca va?

Hey guys, you know you can leave comments right?

You don't have to sign up nor anything neither

So...................say something,

preferably bigoted and reactionary,

for those are always the best comments

Personally speaking…

Had a day off today so spent it thinking. My moody friend wants to take a photo of me for a project and I have to write a paragraph to go beside it. The remit is ‘what inspires me’.

I drunkenly wrote this paragraph yesterday after getting in from a pub quiz [we (Bonnie and the Booksellers) came 2nd and won our stake back, woo!]. It went something along the lines of “I force myself to believe that beauty and aesthetics inspire me, but basically it’s my own selfish desire to stay alive”. Bit over dramatic, I know.

But thinking about it today, I realise that to an extent it’s true. I’d like to say that beauty, truth, soulfulness, music etc inspire me but to be honest, living is overcoming laziness.

Take for instance meeting people for the first time. I assume that all my experiences and personal history culminate in the personality I present to you. However, In order for someone to get to know me a bit deeper, I ought to fill them in on the stuff I’ve been through or my experiences… I suppose it’s about sharing these with someone else. But this is a very repetitive process, especially for someone as lazy as I. I suppose the reason you keep doing this is on the off chance someone surprises you and you get along with them. I'd rather listen to someone tell me about themselves though.

I suppose you could take pleasure in constructing a new personality every few years or so and see how far you could take it. Two people recently told me that they are completely different people to how they were 2 years ago. One has completely changed in terms of music they liked, clothes they wore and people they hung out with and the other didn't realise they were creative but once they did everything made sense and precipitated an awakening of sorts.

Anyway, I don’t think I came to any conclusion about all of this, but I basically thought that living requires you to do repetitive things. For instance meeting new people and having the same conversations again in the hope of making new friends. Or listening to songs, reading books, and watching films, in the hope of experiencing something great or learning something new. In some ways, this is a depressing thought, that you do these things in the ‘hope’ of gaining something worthwhile. I suppose you can always take pleasure in the ‘new’ – you have no choice but to.

I could go the reverse and decide what doesn’t inspire me. Well I can tell you straight away that it’s the useless England team and their inept manager.

I hope it snows loads tomorrow.

Superbowl Sunday

I couldn't think of anything of note to write today, so I thought I'd stick on my mate's poem:

my nightmares take me greatly, make
me shake and make me hate me,

despair has cake'd me, midnight jaded,

all my light has faded, all my life

unstable waded, into rotten water,

sunken to the deepest torture

http://moodyinc.deviantart.com/

I had this chip butty for dinner today:

poetry and chip butty

mmmmm.

"Use a spoon to scoop up the skunge..."

Nothing much happened today except my supervisor taught me how to shoot heroin.

Spurs lost.

But I did go to the gym and do 4 miles on the cross-country ski machine. In order to stave off boredom I brought my headphones along to listen to the radio. There's a varied selection, a couple of discussion channels, a pop channel, rocky one, and clubbing one. Naturally I pick the clubbing one. But so does everyone else it seems.

By about 15 minutes in, I turn to my right and notice that everyone's synchronized. Arms are thrusting, legs are pumping, sweat is dripping, all to the strains of Pump up the Jam by Technotronic.

Somehow, I feel hollow inside.