Interview! Nelly Furtado interviewed by Caroline Sullivan of 'The Guardian': "She begins chirpily and stays that way, answering even facetious questions with a desire to provide whatever's required. "So you're like a bird? What kind?" I inquire. "A seagull," she says seriously. "I was really inspired by a great book called Jonathan Livingston Seagull [the drippy new age classic by Richard Bach]." Journalists find it difficult to get a handle on Nelly - she can't be clumped in with Alanis, Christina, J-Lo or Tori because she's all four, with a hint of Natalie - and looks unnervingly like Courtney.

Blog! Over the days I've linked to some wonderful sites, but caterina's is lush - I find myself unable to look for other words. She's a science fiction, regular 'ol novelist and her credentials really show. This entry alone proves that well written weblogs are like columnists writing for a very, small very particular but no less literate audience (and by the way this isn't why I started a weblog, honestly). Her list of every book she's ever read has kind of inspired to write a similar list of films....when I have the time...

Mefi I wish I'd thought of this.

Erm... When I was a student (mid-nineties) I knew two things. The first was that by the year 2000 my life would be complete. The second was that club music in all it's forms was the work of the devil to draw the populace away from real music. And I pretty much kept that opinion for much of the rest of the decade. Then last year something strange happened. I was standing in record shop and the DJ began to play 'GrooveJet' by Spiller featuring Sophie. Here was a record almost designed to talk me around to the Ibiza way of thinking. A dance record with a good lyric and melody of sorts which also had the kind of structure I'd never heard before. I walked to the counter and bought the thing straight away - and listened to it five times as soon as I was home.

My distrust of dance music still exists, much of it seeming too easy for words. There are the exceptions - the crossover music which I now feel myself not only appreciating but going positively radio gaga over. I'm becoming particular impressed by R&B. During my long and delayed train journey home tonight, I was welcome of the company of Mary J Blige and her 1997 album, 'share my world'. I should not like this album. I mean it features R Kelly for god's sake. But here I am, listening to it again whilst I write this. I want to gas on about her vocal range (extraordinary) or the production (as you'd expect, with glimpses of genius) And as I 'groove' along to the track 'round and round' I've come to a startling conclusion, and believe me, this is something of a revelation...there isn't one type of music I don't like....

Actually that may not be true. I'd run a mile from Kenny Rogers, James Galway and in fact most people with beards. And I'll draw the line at boy bands. And Atomic Kitten (mention number three on this weblog - six to go possibly). But when it somes to everything else, I think I can - if not rave - at least understand. There isn't probably anything better at one o'clock in the morning having had many beers than throwing your weight around S Club 7's 'Reach for the Stars'. The rush of a Slipnot concert will be extreme. And quiet stylings of Vangelis lead you into believing that a calmer world is possible. The only boundary in music should be quality...

Blog! rob's wonderland charts the life of Senior Project Manager for a Web Development Firm. The most alluring aspect is that Rob doesn't fulfill the stereotype - in fact reading the posts from the past few days, we find proof that people who work on the internet tend to be creatives living life to full when they aren't glaring at the screen. What's the Melissa Joan Hart story Rob? Do you think you'll ever get over 'Burning Man'? Someone who writes with great passion...

Hey! Publishing the above late last night has given me time to subtly do some work on the site as you can see if you glance left. So rather than read me blathering here go and have and explore over there. You might also like to have a look at the new novella, 'Failed', about a sculptor whose talents are used to bizarre ends...

Blog! Is it fair to link something like surblimity simply because you like the title and the banner at the top of the page? Probably not, so it's a good thing there are plenty of other reasons. Her name is Jacqueline Rose Maria Aponte (yes!), an American whose spent time in London and is presently experiencing much the same things I did whenever I went back to University - the chance to embrace independence, yet the leaving behind of everything that made you who you are. Have a good year Jacqueline...

Hey! I've often wondered about the importance of being friendly. I'm friendly - to a fault sometimes perhaps. In the same way some Goths have a permanent frown, I'll have a smile on my face, a pleasant nature, a good word to say. Friendly. This troubles me because I'm beginning to wonder if this makes me seem a little bit - bland. Vanilla dull. Ugh! Have I fallen into a trap? Should I hint instead at a dastardly nature now and then - hint at a dark undercurrent or in plain terms, be a complete bastard. As we all lamented at school, it's always the bastards who get the nice girls. OK...erm...let's see...go away! GO ON! You're ugly! You're cross eyed and your hair is greasy. I hate you! Nope, doesn't sound right, or feel right...oh dear...sorry...sorry...I'm sorry...

Blog! Josie Moyer's 'sugarcat' is presently offering a solution for all women who's partners are complete slobs. I wish someone would try this psychology on me. Elsewhere, Josie writes with the clear voice and with great humour and if you're not careful you'll find yourself reading back through all of the 'previous entry' tags at the bottom of each screen. Sublime. Love the cat, too...

Erm... The only gap in the conversation came when we were talking about film. We'd gotten onto the subject of film adaptations (it was a busy journey) and Clare made the sweeping statement that there 'never been any good remakes'. I was thrown by this, not because I don't like generalisations (I try to make at least three a day), but because I couldn't think of any. So I said I'd look on the Internet Movie Database and post a possible list on the weblog...and here we are. We decided on a couple of rules: the remake should be by the same director (so no Hitchcock or Robert Rodriguez) and that re-imaginings of the same material didn't count either (costume dramas and 'Never Say Never Again'). Anyway, here is the list:
Cape Fear (Scorsese - remake of um - Cape Fear)
Twelve Monkeys (Gilliam - remake of La Jetee)
Always (remake of A Guy Named Joe)
Scarface (De Palma remaking well - Scarface)
The Thomas Crown Affair
All pretty questionable I suppose, so Clare - erm - you may actually be right...also deeply shocked to find some nunce is remaking one of my top five French movies, Chacun cherche son chat (1996) (When the Cat's Away) in America with Heather Graham. Noooo...

Commuter Life It’s the almost familiarity. You get the same buses, the same trains, and between looking out of the window and reading your newspaper, you probably know more about how they look and they do. They’re your ‘commuting buddies’ – those people you see every day and you know them by sight (and will do for years to come) but you’ll never actually know them, unless...

A packed train meant I ended up sitting next to one of my commuting buddies tonight. It wasn’t awkward, so much as there being a general unspoken, ‘Oh hello, I know you…’ But for whatever reason I wasn’t going to leave it at that - I always get a bit freaky after my work shift.

The guard started it. The usual announcement throughout the carriages end with this tirade: “Any passengers sitting in the First Class carriage without valid tickets will have to pay the surplass” (I’m paraphrasing). I out loud said:
“I hope you can back that up!”, and she said:
“Probably can’t…” Then we both continued reading…then I asked her:
“Can I ask you a strange question?”
I think she said, yes or if you want.
”How is it?” I offered enigmatically.
”What? The travelling?”
She knew what I meant, and we talked all the way to Liverpool, covering all of the topics such conversations do (travel, work, politics, films – basically all the sections of The Guardian). I think I wigged her with my enthusiasm for this weblog – which was cheesy, but placed me in the weird position of now writing about my day, about meeting someone who’s now going to be reading what I’ve written about her (hey Clare – is that with or without an 'i'?). The bottom-line is, it was easy – once I’d flown over the difficult bit of starting the conversation it turned out we had a lot in common and now we might have someone to talk to on the way to work, if our books are boring.

Smirk Dave Gorman is doing a reading at 'Waterstones' in Manchester for his new book 'Are You Dave Gorman?'. You know the Dave Gorman who is looking for other Dave Gormans - the inspiration for this. Well, couldn't not. So I trapsed down to the book shop during my lunch hour. After being sent to two different desks looking for tickets I eventually found the right till (the Travel section of course) and stood for five minutes whilst the clerk tried to work out how to sell me a ticket. Then he asked me if he could take my details.
'Firstly your name.'
'Dave Gorman.' I said.
He actually starts the first bit of the D before he looks up and gives me the eye. I gave him my real name, giggling. I don't know what came over me. Boredom I think. I now have vision of a real Dave Gorman trying to buy a ticket and being kicked out of the shop for taking the piss.

Starstruck Almost walked into Jimmy Nesbitt in the middle of the road in Manchester (new series of 'Cold Feet' then, Jim?).

Blog! John Robinson's Sore Eyes is like a one man Metafilter. He seems to read hundreds of blogs and brings us the best, each day offering a wealth of links (what else do you do John?). Yesterday, he covered Lizzy from BB2, space photos, the story I posted at Mefi about the time after Uni and the return of Farscape to BBC2UK, amongst others...

Ugh! In my life I have walked out of three films. The first was 'Batman & Robin' - I was so annoyed about that one, I actually wrote a letter of complaint to WBUK - there is only so much dross one can take, and I needed catharsis (insidentally I know the letter doesn't have my name on it, but it is me - oh how some nicknames can look odd in the cold light of day). The second film was 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre' because it was the third bad film in a row that day and by then my tollerance was low (although not as low as the day I saw a double-bill of 'I Still Know What You Did Last Summer' and '8mm' - oooh...). The third film was tonight: 'Tear of the Black Tiger' is by no means an easy film to watch but after an hour of techicolour cowboys in a homo-erotic setting, the train home looked deeply inviting. There is little doubt the film is lush to the eye, but at no point (other than captions) is there any attempt to engage the audience. The joke may have blistered for ten minutes or so, but after an hour ... anyway I left, the eyes of the audience on me - and I know at least one of them was thinking - 'humourless bastard' ...

Hey! To all the new visitors. I'd love hear from you (that'll be what all these 'comment' tags are for) ...

Blog! My life used to be this interesting (perfect time to get a weblog, then). Wanderin' Monkey Boy's LiveJournal isn't updated too often, but the stories here are quite enough thank you. This has particular resonance as I'm forever sharing taxis places with total strangers. Got to keep an eye on that.

Liverpool life The bank holiday Music shindig - well all I can say is - every festival has it's fringe. Between the main sponsored stages and the pubs and bars which were impossible to get into were the hangers on, the people making the most. The saddest sight had to be the crowd massed around the entrance of 'Macdonalds' watching the staff dancing to 'Lady Marmalade' and the works of S Club 7 - truly there is nothing sadder than people on £3.75 an hour trying to get people excited by wearing clown make up. Then there was the gentleman who usually sits in the square outside Tesco's bumped up to the main shopping street. This is the man (who for charity, bless him) sits for hours on end singing folk tunes in the monotone voice of HAL, with a green bird puppet hanging off a stick in front of him, dangling in time with the music. Then we have the street artists who come from nowhere - the lady who spent five minutes painting a not at all relevant picture of Princess Di, to the woman who was charging £2.50 a time for people to have their picture drawn in the style of a five-year-old. It all just seemed a bit depressing somehow. Not at all depressing are the tribute band names, which every year raise a smile - ahem...Beatalls, Sgt Pepper Brazil, Det Betales (Norway), Beat the Meetles (Denmark), Beatalls, Abbey Road (Brazil), Frankie Goes To Liverpool (Germany), The Corrds, Robbie's Angels, Instant Karma, Beladies, The Bryan Adams Experience, Status Quid, The Jamm, Buttles and my favourite, The Clone Farm.

Referrer log 58.58% typed "off the telly+website+television" I think you're looking for this, friend.

Blog! anna kiss writes about her life, herself, about her place in the universe. her thoughts are drawn to her state of being, how she cannot ever truly get a handle on her life, her husband, how she has difficulty relating to people and how they have difficulty relating to her. about how modern life, a life of computers and blogging, of the stifling shifting of the world creates disasters on a miniture and massive scale

Review! Big Brother II by Elizabeth Woodcock on 'The Sunday Times' website: "What it is in fact is live television that has been managed and packaged, manipulated from 24 hours down to 24 minutes. In doing this, we, the housemates, become caricatures, our reactions distorted and out of context." [via linkmachingo]

Liverpool life Around the park where I live, there is quite a famous street, Lark Lane. A known haunt of 'The Beatles' (isn't everywhere in Liverpool), 'The Lane' is like a small bohemian village where the young professionals, students and artists of the city congregate. It's exactly how I imagine the village in New York to be. There is a green grocers on the street which let's people put flyers in the window. It struck me as I passed by earlier, that almost all of them presently are for lost cats. Each follows the same format. Piece of paper - in the middle a photo of the cat they could part with - and around the cat's name and a phone number. Almost like the unsolved case board in a homicide department they hang there fading in the sun. Some have been there for years, their owners presumably still holding out hope for their return. Looking from picture to picture, only one question can I think of - where have they all gone?