Jimmy Page’s Trousers

I’m just having a listen to some Leonard Cohen as I write.  Splendid stuff.  I’ll admit that I’m a relative latecomer to Lenny, having only cottoned on in the last four or five years (all of the ‘real’ fans are scoffing so hard that they’ve probably hurt their throats now - fuck ‘em).

Anyway, I’m having a listen to remind myself that I’ll soon be popping along to see him.  In June, thanks to some dodgy dealings leaving him stony broke, I’ll be sitting down to see him do his thing.  Hurrah for dodgy dealings as I’d never have gotten to see him otherwise.

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Did any of that matter?  Really, though?  I have to stop posting when I’m full of beer.  I’m not my usual engrossing and erudite self.  I also delude myself into believing that I’m normally engrossing and erudite.

Sorry everyone.  Normal captivating and learned levels of posting will be resumed shortly.

Chicken liver paté.  It is delicious.  Especially so after drinking much lager.  Too much maybe, but who are you lot to judge?  Huh?  Who among us hasn’t drunk a bundle of Stella, signed up for a script-writing pseudo-competition and eaten toast slathered with chicken liver paté?

Well?  Who?

I thought so.

Pretty much everyone reading is, I’m sure, aware of NaNoWriMo. Well, it seems that there is a script writer’s alternative. Script Frenzy seems to be a newish endeavour, designed along the same lines.

Basically, the idea is to write a 100 page script in the period from April 1st to 30th. The average, feature-length script is in the 90 to 120 page ballpark so this basically means writing a movie in a month. Granted, similarly to NaNoWriMo, what’s required is a first draft in this time period. To ask for more is really the stuff of madness for normal people.

Again, similarly to NaNoWriMo, there are no actual prizes to speak of. Unless you count a spiffy icon that I can pop on my blog to boast at how I managed to do it and the sense of achievement at having completed the script. Both seem like pretty poor prizes to me, which begs the question, why have I signed up? Because it’s there or something. I don’t really know. I’m anticipating that the sense of community and arbitrary deadline will encourage and motivate me to great things. Or, if not great, then, at least, things.

Nevertheless, it is a scary prospect. A feature-length script in a month is a tall order. I am deeply worried that my Inner Critic, never one to keep his derogatory trap shut, will chide and condescend so much that I’ll never manage it. I know that I’m going to find it extremely difficult to shut him out sufficiently that I actually finish a first draft in that time. Still, I know that doing so will be an extremely useful exercise as it’s that Inner Critic that makes me ponder and fuss and obsess over everything I write (not here obviously) so much that I end up doing eight rewrites on each sentence. As I go. This is why I don’t get enough stuff done. I’m trying to stop this insanity but it’s hard. I’m hoping that Script Frenzy is the answer.

So, there you have it. When I get around to fiddling with code, there will be an icon over in the sidebar to announce, to the world, my participation and make it more difficult to pretend that I just forgot. In the meantime, there is one below.

April is shaping up to be a busy month. Wish me luck. Better yet, offer to babysit.

I’ve just seen the end of something called Upstaged. It was on one of the Lesser Spotted BBC’s (three or four, probably four). If I actually lived in the UK and paid a television licence, I’d be writing the Director General to ask for a refund. What drivel.

The premise seems to be that two teams or individuals fart around in a big glass room and do ‘whacky’ and ‘outrageous’ things, designed to ensure that the drooling simpletons watching the show vote for them. It’s a bit like a short-term Big Brother but without the production values, overt racism and opportunities for sneaky masturbation under a duvet.

Awful, execrable stuff. I caught someone wearing a giant badger’s head (not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with dressing as a badger - the badger is one of the funniest of all animals) and, I think, some pole-dancing ladies. Inspired.

Ironically, there was also a documentary on about the BBC Green Book of standards - what was allowed in programs, in the name of decency, during the 50’s. Can you say jux-ta-position [juhk-stuh-puh-zish-uhn]?

Can anyone tell me why I continue to watch Lost? I don’t like it. I don’t like any of the characters as they’re mostly wankers. I don’t care about them and I wish that bad things would happen to them.

Every week though, I find myself watching it only to shout “gaaaaahhh!” at the end. Every week, I watch it and feel a little dirtier than last week. I’m like a hopeless smack-head or some sort of pervert who desperately wants to stop whatever perving he’s doing but can’t. He just can’t. Don’t judge me.

And every week of this series, Sky has promised “answers coming on Lost this week”. Sky lie. There are no answers. Just more confusion and annoyance and dirty-feeling shouting.

Are these symptoms of an addiction? I reckon so. Christ, what a shit thing to be addicted to - Lost.

I need help. I want to stop, but can’t.

Maybe cold-turkey is the best way. Just cut it out completely. Try to forget it. Ohhhh, but what if that week is one with answers? What if something is explained? I’m kidding myself, I know - nothing is ever explained. It just gets more and more intricately confusing and will continue to do so for ever.

Help me. Somebody, please. I don’t like it. I don’t want to watch it. Help me.