Betty beautiful.
Music It's the last day of the year and suddenly, finally I'm listening to the James Blunt single, You're Beautiful, something I've somehow missed for whole months. Um... doesn't the accoustic guitar opening sound like the theme to Bill Bixby's The Incredible Hulk tv series from the seventies? Did everybody know this?
Review 2005
Caro
on the first week of january, titled 'more', i wrote down a list of things i wanted more of in 2005. it was a list of the mundane and the grande: more snowboarding, more giving up on grudges, more home-cooked meals, more yoga, more photography more standing up for my beliefs. i also wrote down: more love.
after years of good and decent but ultimately half-hearted relationships that demanded a whole lot of 'trying to make it work', i think deep down, i wanted to believe in love again. i wanted that grande, grandiose thing you see on movie screens and hear about in songs and that i kept seeing happening to other people. i wanted intensity and that soulmate thing. i wanted to be with someone who understood and loved my quirks. i wanted that 'not needing to hide those parts of yourself that you think no one will like them anyway' thing.
love hit me over the head a few weeks after writing my 'more' list as i read the sunday paper. it wasn't anything special: just one sentence about radiohead. i contacted the authour and to my great surprise, he replied to my email, and that's how it started. i lack words to describe the intensity of those first few days. within two or three emails, i' realised that i'd fallen head over heels in love. yeah, i'd heard that that happened to people all the time, falling in love through writing, over the net, but i'd never expected that it would happen to me. it was the same for him, apparently, as electric currents were transmitted through fibreoptic wires, yadayadayada. he wrote sentences that felt like i'd written them, we shared the same strange views on strange topics, like a love for the fonts used on dutch street signs and travelling on trains. we wrote a thousand emails in that first week and very quickly started talking on the phone. without having met this man, i was sure he was my soulmate. i left my then boyfried days after that first email, one of the hardest things i've ever done, no matter how mediocre that relationship was. i wanted to be able to start fresh with this new thing, i wanted to be as open and honest as possible. a short while later i met him in his hometown, a few hundred kilometres away. our first date was at a bright eyes concert. he looked much different to the photos he'd sent, actually, he looked nothing like those photos at all, but i thought that if this guy was supposed to be my soulmate, if this was my one love thing, which all of our contact, all my emotions seemed to point to, i could neglect looks. and it was all sweet, the connection, the conversation, the sex....well, almost all.
there was that marriage thing. his marriage, rather. over the weeks, i came to realise that what he'd described as a marriage that was 'as good as divorced', a family life which he had described as 'living together because of the child', was a marriage that was still very much a marriage, one were the word 'divorce' had quite likely never been ushered, and a real family life. wanting to follow my whole 'surrendering to real love' project, i did what lovers of married men have done for centuries: i believed that he'd leave her, eventually, he just needed time. and things between us were great, really, intense and clichéd, but great. meetings in expensive hotels. phone calls worth thousands of euro. sex filled rituals. mix cds. i was so blinded by it all, that i even stayed at the family home when his wife and kid were travelling. one day, it would all be fine, i thought.
one day however, after four months of bliss, of living the grande thing, it all fell apart.
his other lover had found my weblog and my flickr stream. no, not his wife. his other lover. it turned out that he'd met another woman through that article on radiohead after which i'd contacted him. they'd had a first date at an interpol concert. she'd stayed at the family home while his wife and kid were travelling, hours before i had arrived there. they had the calls and the rituals and the tons of emails, too. and she had the exact same mix cds as i did.
the next few days and weeks were extremely terrible as i tried to cling to my feelings, to love, after (t)his betrayal, trying deperately to find some kind of justification for his actions. no matter how hard i tried, i just couldn't. i eventually had to realise that the love that i'd felt between me and him had quite simply never existed, that it all had been a great ploy of his to just see how far he could take it all and that he had never, not even for a moment, even recognised the real me. this had never been about love for him, this was all about fucking. 'just 'caus you feel it, doesn't mean it's there.' sings thom yorke in 'there, there.' thom's right. he kept saying that 'this all just happened to him' which i just couldn't believe. i couldn't believe that he hadn't felt great at least for one minute or two to be smart enough to betray three women at once.
in 2005, i believed in love and in finding my soulmate, and i failed, in every way possible. the believing in love part was what i'd always wanted to do, the failing part very obviously wasn't. looking back on it, i am happy and thankful and kinda proud of myself that i did it all, that giving in and letting myself feel it all and the taking chances. - not because those four months of bliss were that great, - in retrospect, they are worthless and ugly and full of lies and betrayal, as nothing that happened then was real, but because only good things came out of it, eventually. i'm single now, and that's far better than being in a half-hearted relationship, just because you don't want to be alone. i rediscovered what is important for me in life and in relationships, rediscovered my love for music and live music, met incredible people, him excluded. his other lover is my best friend these days, the best friend i've ever had.
and i still believe in love.
halfhearted.
Originally uploaded by misscaro.
caro writes bloggold and takes photos. one day, she might start writing caroville again.
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
after years of good and decent but ultimately half-hearted relationships that demanded a whole lot of 'trying to make it work', i think deep down, i wanted to believe in love again. i wanted that grande, grandiose thing you see on movie screens and hear about in songs and that i kept seeing happening to other people. i wanted intensity and that soulmate thing. i wanted to be with someone who understood and loved my quirks. i wanted that 'not needing to hide those parts of yourself that you think no one will like them anyway' thing.
love hit me over the head a few weeks after writing my 'more' list as i read the sunday paper. it wasn't anything special: just one sentence about radiohead. i contacted the authour and to my great surprise, he replied to my email, and that's how it started. i lack words to describe the intensity of those first few days. within two or three emails, i' realised that i'd fallen head over heels in love. yeah, i'd heard that that happened to people all the time, falling in love through writing, over the net, but i'd never expected that it would happen to me. it was the same for him, apparently, as electric currents were transmitted through fibreoptic wires, yadayadayada. he wrote sentences that felt like i'd written them, we shared the same strange views on strange topics, like a love for the fonts used on dutch street signs and travelling on trains. we wrote a thousand emails in that first week and very quickly started talking on the phone. without having met this man, i was sure he was my soulmate. i left my then boyfried days after that first email, one of the hardest things i've ever done, no matter how mediocre that relationship was. i wanted to be able to start fresh with this new thing, i wanted to be as open and honest as possible. a short while later i met him in his hometown, a few hundred kilometres away. our first date was at a bright eyes concert. he looked much different to the photos he'd sent, actually, he looked nothing like those photos at all, but i thought that if this guy was supposed to be my soulmate, if this was my one love thing, which all of our contact, all my emotions seemed to point to, i could neglect looks. and it was all sweet, the connection, the conversation, the sex....well, almost all.
there was that marriage thing. his marriage, rather. over the weeks, i came to realise that what he'd described as a marriage that was 'as good as divorced', a family life which he had described as 'living together because of the child', was a marriage that was still very much a marriage, one were the word 'divorce' had quite likely never been ushered, and a real family life. wanting to follow my whole 'surrendering to real love' project, i did what lovers of married men have done for centuries: i believed that he'd leave her, eventually, he just needed time. and things between us were great, really, intense and clichéd, but great. meetings in expensive hotels. phone calls worth thousands of euro. sex filled rituals. mix cds. i was so blinded by it all, that i even stayed at the family home when his wife and kid were travelling. one day, it would all be fine, i thought.
one day however, after four months of bliss, of living the grande thing, it all fell apart.
his other lover had found my weblog and my flickr stream. no, not his wife. his other lover. it turned out that he'd met another woman through that article on radiohead after which i'd contacted him. they'd had a first date at an interpol concert. she'd stayed at the family home while his wife and kid were travelling, hours before i had arrived there. they had the calls and the rituals and the tons of emails, too. and she had the exact same mix cds as i did.
the next few days and weeks were extremely terrible as i tried to cling to my feelings, to love, after (t)his betrayal, trying deperately to find some kind of justification for his actions. no matter how hard i tried, i just couldn't. i eventually had to realise that the love that i'd felt between me and him had quite simply never existed, that it all had been a great ploy of his to just see how far he could take it all and that he had never, not even for a moment, even recognised the real me. this had never been about love for him, this was all about fucking. 'just 'caus you feel it, doesn't mean it's there.' sings thom yorke in 'there, there.' thom's right. he kept saying that 'this all just happened to him' which i just couldn't believe. i couldn't believe that he hadn't felt great at least for one minute or two to be smart enough to betray three women at once.
in 2005, i believed in love and in finding my soulmate, and i failed, in every way possible. the believing in love part was what i'd always wanted to do, the failing part very obviously wasn't. looking back on it, i am happy and thankful and kinda proud of myself that i did it all, that giving in and letting myself feel it all and the taking chances. - not because those four months of bliss were that great, - in retrospect, they are worthless and ugly and full of lies and betrayal, as nothing that happened then was real, but because only good things came out of it, eventually. i'm single now, and that's far better than being in a half-hearted relationship, just because you don't want to be alone. i rediscovered what is important for me in life and in relationships, rediscovered my love for music and live music, met incredible people, him excluded. his other lover is my best friend these days, the best friend i've ever had.
and i still believe in love.
halfhearted.
Originally uploaded by misscaro.
caro writes bloggold and takes photos. one day, she might start writing caroville again.
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
Page turning
Books "Several years ago, I calculated how many books I could read if I lived to my actuarially expected age. The answer was 2,138. In theory, those 2,138 books would include everything from "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" to "Le Colonel Chabert," with titles by authors as celebrated as Marcel Proust and as obscure as Marcel Aymé. In principle, there would be enough time to read 500 masterpieces, 500 minor classics, 500 overlooked works of genius, 500 oddities and 138 examples of high-class trash. Nowhere in this utopian future would there be time for "Hi-Ho, Steverino!" -- Joe Queenan on too many books so short a lifespan. I wish I was as well adjusted in my reading as Karie.
Review 2005
Shazzle
Christmas always tends to have an air of melancholy, as nothing screams frustrated ambition quite like the sound of another year passing by. However, I think in my 2005 I have made some tiny but important achievements that might, one day, come to the attention of the wider world, and will eventually have me hailed as the right and proper Queen of the Universe, and also saviour of mankind, and quite possible Best Person Ever.
But until that happens, my successes in 2005 remain some of the biggest and best of my humble and increasingly pointless lifetime.
In contemplating writing this little piece of self-importand dribble, I considered a number of possibilities as to what my biggest achievement in 2005 could be. It could be that I've finally managed to trick someone of the opposite and opposing sex to move in with me and become, as I like to refer to him, "my live in lover" or "my special flatmate" or, as others describe him, "that poor fool". I could talk about how I've finally overcome two of the biggest phobias of my life: that of flying, and that of needles, by getting on a plane at least twice a month every month between November 2005 and July 2006, and having some tattoos painted on my foot with big scary needles and ink.
Alternatively, it is an achievement of sorts that I managed to successfully contract food poisoning (being a vegetarian), but miraculous disembark from the tube train on which I was travelling to throw up instead on the platform (if you've ever commuted in London, I think you'll share with me the horror of being ill on a tube train). I'm also quite pleased about the practicality with which I have dealt with my credit card debt, in that right at this moment I have more in my current account than on my credit card, something that hasn't happened since 1998 at the earliest.
But no. My honestly, truly, proudest moment of actual sheer physical, mental and emotional success, the peak of my year as a person, came about a week ago, when myself and my long-suffering better half were leaving a young person's musical adventure, and noticed that the bus we were intending to catch was rapidly approaching us from behind, while we were still quite the way away from the stop at which we could catch it. I looked at him. He looked at me. We both looked ahead. And, grabbing the top of my jeans and hiking them up to avoid them falling around my ankles, we both set off in a sprint, laughing and yelling as we did that there was no way we were going to get that bus, and where was my oyster card, and my trousers are falling down, and look it's stopping and oh god, we did it.
It may not seem like a big deal to you, dear reader, that I managed to run for and successfully catch a bus, but this time two years ago I spent New Years Eve on the floor of my flat in Edinburgh, alone and crying due to the pain in my back that was so bad I couldn't sit up, stand, or socialise in any reasonable or meaningful manner. I don't by any means intend this post to be a sort of self-aggrandising rant to the power of my healing abilities, or the bravery over which I have defeated my adversaries, or even just a boasting on the fact that I can recover from physical injury. It is simply a darned, straight up, and thank the good lord and all his angels, mind boggling success for me to happily run for a bus without a care in the world, that this is my biggest success of 2005.
Now. I'm off to drink my body weight in brandy. Do please have a merry that and a wonderful the other.
Shazzle writes Dreadful Nonsense
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
But until that happens, my successes in 2005 remain some of the biggest and best of my humble and increasingly pointless lifetime.
In contemplating writing this little piece of self-importand dribble, I considered a number of possibilities as to what my biggest achievement in 2005 could be. It could be that I've finally managed to trick someone of the opposite and opposing sex to move in with me and become, as I like to refer to him, "my live in lover" or "my special flatmate" or, as others describe him, "that poor fool". I could talk about how I've finally overcome two of the biggest phobias of my life: that of flying, and that of needles, by getting on a plane at least twice a month every month between November 2005 and July 2006, and having some tattoos painted on my foot with big scary needles and ink.
Alternatively, it is an achievement of sorts that I managed to successfully contract food poisoning (being a vegetarian), but miraculous disembark from the tube train on which I was travelling to throw up instead on the platform (if you've ever commuted in London, I think you'll share with me the horror of being ill on a tube train). I'm also quite pleased about the practicality with which I have dealt with my credit card debt, in that right at this moment I have more in my current account than on my credit card, something that hasn't happened since 1998 at the earliest.
But no. My honestly, truly, proudest moment of actual sheer physical, mental and emotional success, the peak of my year as a person, came about a week ago, when myself and my long-suffering better half were leaving a young person's musical adventure, and noticed that the bus we were intending to catch was rapidly approaching us from behind, while we were still quite the way away from the stop at which we could catch it. I looked at him. He looked at me. We both looked ahead. And, grabbing the top of my jeans and hiking them up to avoid them falling around my ankles, we both set off in a sprint, laughing and yelling as we did that there was no way we were going to get that bus, and where was my oyster card, and my trousers are falling down, and look it's stopping and oh god, we did it.
It may not seem like a big deal to you, dear reader, that I managed to run for and successfully catch a bus, but this time two years ago I spent New Years Eve on the floor of my flat in Edinburgh, alone and crying due to the pain in my back that was so bad I couldn't sit up, stand, or socialise in any reasonable or meaningful manner. I don't by any means intend this post to be a sort of self-aggrandising rant to the power of my healing abilities, or the bravery over which I have defeated my adversaries, or even just a boasting on the fact that I can recover from physical injury. It is simply a darned, straight up, and thank the good lord and all his angels, mind boggling success for me to happily run for a bus without a care in the world, that this is my biggest success of 2005.
Now. I'm off to drink my body weight in brandy. Do please have a merry that and a wonderful the other.
Shazzle writes Dreadful Nonsense
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
Nuts Tella
Food "I know a man who once swam in a vat of Nutella. His name is John and he's the partner of Mum's lovely friend Trish. I met him the night before Wedding III, when The Mothership arranged a dinner with her Schoolteacher Posse. John was one of those easygoing guys you like immediately. Gareth was especially smitten because he was into motorbikes, but when he casually mentioned the Nutella Thing no other details mattered to me but the Nutella Thing." -- Shauna. Which reminds me that I received a jar of the stuff at Christmas. I knew there was something missing on my toast this morning.
Hu hu hu.
Nature "New Yorkers have them. So do Georgians, Texans, Brits, and Australians. Now primate researchers have discovered that Japanese macaques can acquire different accents based on where they live - just like humans. The red-faced monkeys frequently utter what researchers have dubbed coo calls to maintain vocal contact with one another. Recordings of these calls taken over an eight-year period show that macaques living hundreds of miles apart "speak" at different frequencies." -- Maryann Mott for National Geographic. I bet they can even communicate how they're feeling better than some humans.
Review 2005
Adrian McEwen
When I signed up for the Review 2005 I had a clear idea of the achievment I was going to write about. My achievement for the year would be the release of my first piece of software.
Not the first piece of software of which I'd written a major part; or the first piece I'd been responsible for planning; or the first piece I'd seen in people's hands... Although they were all important firsts of which I'm proud, they all happened a few years back, earlier in my career.
This would be the first product that I'd built, from scratch, all by myself. Decided the feature set myself, written all the code myself, and planned and managed from start to finish myself. The culmination of over eighteen months' work.
It hasn't been the easiest of transitions, from employee to self-employed. There are many more things to take care of - I almost said to worry about, but the over-riding problem hasn't been worrying about them; rather finding the time to fit them all in and still keep the development of the software edging towards completion. Working alone, from home, has also been a challenge - I'm finally getting to grips with the self-discipline and motivation required to get through the times when the task seems to stretch away into the far distance. And I still need to keep reminding myself that most of the time any decision, even the wrong one, is better than no decision and will stop you procrastinating away hours...
Now all that's left is to close with a short description of what I've built... to point you to the website where the software can be downloaded, and then tell you how I'm going to relax and enjoy the Christmas period having achieved something I've been thinking about doing for many years.
Only unfortunately I can't.
Not just yet.
If you followed the link above, you'd just be asked if you wanted to join the beta testing (which, if you haven't backed up your computer lately, you should think about). For the software isn't quite finished. It's so close to being finished that I've begged for a special extension to the deadline for Review 2005 submissions, but even that hasn't quite been enough.
So my great achievement isn't going to happen in 2005. There have been plenty of other achievements made along the way: I've become a company director; run my first usability testing; launched a beta programme; and got my software into the hands or real people. So there's still lots for me to feel proud of, and I'll be all set for next year's review...
Adrian McEwen writes mcfilter
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
Not the first piece of software of which I'd written a major part; or the first piece I'd been responsible for planning; or the first piece I'd seen in people's hands... Although they were all important firsts of which I'm proud, they all happened a few years back, earlier in my career.
This would be the first product that I'd built, from scratch, all by myself. Decided the feature set myself, written all the code myself, and planned and managed from start to finish myself. The culmination of over eighteen months' work.
It hasn't been the easiest of transitions, from employee to self-employed. There are many more things to take care of - I almost said to worry about, but the over-riding problem hasn't been worrying about them; rather finding the time to fit them all in and still keep the development of the software edging towards completion. Working alone, from home, has also been a challenge - I'm finally getting to grips with the self-discipline and motivation required to get through the times when the task seems to stretch away into the far distance. And I still need to keep reminding myself that most of the time any decision, even the wrong one, is better than no decision and will stop you procrastinating away hours...
Now all that's left is to close with a short description of what I've built... to point you to the website where the software can be downloaded, and then tell you how I'm going to relax and enjoy the Christmas period having achieved something I've been thinking about doing for many years.
Only unfortunately I can't.
Not just yet.
If you followed the link above, you'd just be asked if you wanted to join the beta testing (which, if you haven't backed up your computer lately, you should think about). For the software isn't quite finished. It's so close to being finished that I've begged for a special extension to the deadline for Review 2005 submissions, but even that hasn't quite been enough.
So my great achievement isn't going to happen in 2005. There have been plenty of other achievements made along the way: I've become a company director; run my first usability testing; launched a beta programme; and got my software into the hands or real people. So there's still lots for me to feel proud of, and I'll be all set for next year's review...
Adrian McEwen writes mcfilter
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
"Let me sing you a waltz about this lovely one night stand..." -- Julie Delpy
Music Welcome readers of Cinematical, where I was linked by Martha Fischer earlier on today regarding the Julie Delpy & Band photo I found at flickr. Just a bit of follow up background. Julie Delpy's album, originally released in 2003 is an excellent piece of work, kind of breazy fusion of blues and chanson -- and produced three of the songs subsequently used in Before Sunset, An Ocean Apart, Je T'Aime Tant and Waltz for a Night which mentions Jesse, the character her co-star Ethan Hawke played in both films. This was the song she sang to him at the end of the second movie. Basically if you loved the songs which appeared on the film's soundtrack, you'll love the rest. I'm sorry, am I gushing?
The Middle 8th
TV Morning. Nothing much else to say other than here is a link to an mp3 of the new new version of the Doctor Who closing theme, with the middle 8th, as it appeared on Christmas Day but without the voiceover! And what a strident, epic, exciting piece of music it is. Turn up your speakers ... bullets can't stop it ... [via]
Knit-one-pearl-one
Christmas "My Brother [I suppose you think it's funny] his girlfriend [I blame her - yes I do - she is the mastermind behind this cruel and twisted Christmas gift] and their one year old son [whom I'm sure is innocent - but I bet he roared with laughter when his evil parents told him about the gift they had bought for his uncle Andre] have bought me this for Christmas ..." -- Andre receives the present not of his dreams.
Yakkity-yak
Education RSA launches lectures podcast. I don't know if any of them will be interesting but this does suggest another application -- the recording of university lectures as a matter of course which are then turned into mp3 podcasts for students to refer to saving them from having to dictaphone them. But I'm sure the university would only send them to students who had actually attended the lecture ...
Answered.
Review 2005 "I immediately began to run the film titled, "Mary's 2005" looking for that dream I fulfilled. Certainly I did a lot of things this year. I moved from my small home town to a city 300 miles away. I survived a category 4 hurricane. I quit a job, got offered several jobs, then basically got my old job back. I failed. I adjusted. I endured. I stretched myself. And I amazed myself!" -- Mary's been inspired by our review to talk about her own year.
Julie Delpy & Band
Photography
Julie Delpy & Band
Originally uploaded by siutung.
Great concerts are happening in other countries right now.
Julie Delpy & Band
Originally uploaded by siutung.
Great concerts are happening in other countries right now.
Feeling blue.
Music (?) "A massive hit in England (the country that brought the world Jive Bunny, remember) Crazy Frog's version of "Axel F" (better known as the Beverly Hills Cop theme, which every seventh-grader with a home synth was playing in 1984) stopped Coldplay's "Speed Of Sound" from hitting number one in the UK. The song was originally a cell-phone ringtone, but the annoying little amphibian took on a life of its own with Crazy Hits, managing to make the most easily digestible dance crap from years past even more radio-friendly. Original version of "Who Let The Dogs Out?" too street for you? Let Crazy Frog make everything all right." -- The AV Club discovers this year's inessential albums.
Not Review 2005
Culture Well obviously it is a review, not necessarily the one you've all been enjoying. Every year, even when I've been taking the alternative approach I have managed to list other impressive items. I've had quite a soupy approach to culture this year, particularly catching up on things I've missed from the past. With that in mind, rather than producing separate lists, here are seven cultural moments which I've loved in the past twelve months. It's not a complete list (no television, timelords or books?) and in no particular order ...
(1) Sideways was the film which made me buy a Pinot at Christmas time (Chilean not Californian though). It was great to see everyone related to the film demonstrating that great actors, script and directing still have value. Virginia Madsen in particular shone after years in the direct-to-video wilderness, being looked at again by a cruel film industry.
(2) Natalie Imbruglia's album Counting Down The Days had the rare distinction of not being a nagging disappointment. Each of Nat's albums feels like a labour of love, the work of someone who genuinely believes in what they're doing. I gave the cd a slightly negative review originally, but on subsequent listens it slipped under my skin, the title track being a particularly stirring pian to those of us waiting for something ...
(3) Melinda and Melinda was a surprising film, effortless in many ways and despite what others might be saying one of the most inspirational films of the year. Let's remember that Woody Allen's turned seventy and yet here is a film which feels like its been directed by someone a third of his age. Even after all these years he has the ability to create something fresh and inspiring that also talks about the very nature of drama.
(4) Nina Gordon's cover version of Straight Outa Compton was with the wierd comedy drama trailer for The Shining an excellent example of a cross genre approach to culture. It was a stunt, a way of selling a few records, but with such a beautiful voice tempering one of music's angrier songs it's difficult to see why she's not a major star. Sigh, next album then.
(5) Here is what I wrote about Doug Liman's excellent Mr & Mrs Smith back in June. Listening to the dvd commentary reveals that this was a difficult shoot, with Brad Prit disappearing for a while in the middle to film Ocean's Twelve and a patch work of editing and reshoots. But what's been created is a curio which melds the sensibilities of a 1940s screwball comedy with a Michael Bay film. With Vince Vaughn. And as I said back then, "It's an Angelina Jolie film I can like. I've never found her all that inspiring but there's just something about the way she pouts, raises an eyebrow, holds a gun and wears knee high boots which slays me..."
(6) "Look, it's not that I've had a sense of humour bypass, and lord knows music is not be beyond satire or reproach, but which twonk thought Jonathan Ross was the man to introduce this event? Dido and Youssou N'Dour give a great performance of Seven Seconds in one of the highlights of the show and he comes on at the end with -- 'I thought it went on a bit too long at the end.' Who cares what you think? You're not funny and your hair's too long." Sums up my Live 8 experience. Shame. Included for some of the performances, but not the production.
(7) I think the world can probably be separated into those who like Joss Whedon and those who are wrong. Serenity was like watching a dream become reality telling the story we all wanted to see and speaking to each and everyone one of us. Like Sideways it seemed to be doing and saying an awful lot effortlessly. Like the best of Whedon's work it dragged the viewer through the emotional ringer, spitting us out the other end better people for the journey. The year's Lord of the Rings.
(1) Sideways was the film which made me buy a Pinot at Christmas time (Chilean not Californian though). It was great to see everyone related to the film demonstrating that great actors, script and directing still have value. Virginia Madsen in particular shone after years in the direct-to-video wilderness, being looked at again by a cruel film industry.
(2) Natalie Imbruglia's album Counting Down The Days had the rare distinction of not being a nagging disappointment. Each of Nat's albums feels like a labour of love, the work of someone who genuinely believes in what they're doing. I gave the cd a slightly negative review originally, but on subsequent listens it slipped under my skin, the title track being a particularly stirring pian to those of us waiting for something ...
(3) Melinda and Melinda was a surprising film, effortless in many ways and despite what others might be saying one of the most inspirational films of the year. Let's remember that Woody Allen's turned seventy and yet here is a film which feels like its been directed by someone a third of his age. Even after all these years he has the ability to create something fresh and inspiring that also talks about the very nature of drama.
(4) Nina Gordon's cover version of Straight Outa Compton was with the wierd comedy drama trailer for The Shining an excellent example of a cross genre approach to culture. It was a stunt, a way of selling a few records, but with such a beautiful voice tempering one of music's angrier songs it's difficult to see why she's not a major star. Sigh, next album then.
(5) Here is what I wrote about Doug Liman's excellent Mr & Mrs Smith back in June. Listening to the dvd commentary reveals that this was a difficult shoot, with Brad Prit disappearing for a while in the middle to film Ocean's Twelve and a patch work of editing and reshoots. But what's been created is a curio which melds the sensibilities of a 1940s screwball comedy with a Michael Bay film. With Vince Vaughn. And as I said back then, "It's an Angelina Jolie film I can like. I've never found her all that inspiring but there's just something about the way she pouts, raises an eyebrow, holds a gun and wears knee high boots which slays me..."
(6) "Look, it's not that I've had a sense of humour bypass, and lord knows music is not be beyond satire or reproach, but which twonk thought Jonathan Ross was the man to introduce this event? Dido and Youssou N'Dour give a great performance of Seven Seconds in one of the highlights of the show and he comes on at the end with -- 'I thought it went on a bit too long at the end.' Who cares what you think? You're not funny and your hair's too long." Sums up my Live 8 experience. Shame. Included for some of the performances, but not the production.
(7) I think the world can probably be separated into those who like Joss Whedon and those who are wrong. Serenity was like watching a dream become reality telling the story we all wanted to see and speaking to each and everyone one of us. Like Sideways it seemed to be doing and saying an awful lot effortlessly. Like the best of Whedon's work it dragged the viewer through the emotional ringer, spitting us out the other end better people for the journey. The year's Lord of the Rings.
ComedyTragedyComedyTragedy
Film Wierdness abounds in the LoveFilm worst show of the year poll. Everything is going well then at number 5:
Melinda and Melinda
How does that appear higher than House of Wax in a list like that?
Melinda and Melinda
How does that appear higher than House of Wax in a list like that?
Appeal
Appeal A bit random, but did anyone reading happen to record Channel Five between 9:30am and 11:30 this morning (28/12) -- in other words Extreme Makeover Home Edition and Renovate My Family? I was asked to record them and forgot ... aaaaah!
Bells and whistles
Firefox I'm just attempting to posting using a new extension called Performance which allows the writing of new posts from within the browser with one click. I'm looking at a page filled with bells and whistles. Let's see if it works.
Updated It sort of works. It doesn't have a way around Blogger's 'Word Notification' software so every post is saved as a draft so you still have to visit Blogger to actually post them to the page. Plus I think it drops things into the post in the Atom feed at the same time so it has the danger of blog posts cropping up twice there ...
Review 2005
Sasha F
2005 was the year that I really discovered photography (among other things - I don't want you to think I'm one dimensional).
I often think of myself as a visual person: I dress in that textured creative way that implies I know the canon of visual imagery. I was Trinny-and-Susanna-ing my friends (without the nastiness, obviously) well before anyone knew from personal shoppers or TV shows. And I go to art galleries, and often notice small interesting details in the universe - visually - and imagine myself framing photos and referring to them later as I build up my records of how the world looks to me.
I am susceptible to my environment. I notice when people's furniture is the wrong size for the room, or their pictures are hung in a way that doesn't work for the space. A very long time ago (when I wasn't quite so good at knowing when to keep my mouth shut) I enabled the speedy and rather tragic ending of lovely relationship with a creative opera-lover-type who lived in Highgate because I rather forcefully insisted that he rehang the pictures in his living room. He subsequently turned out to be gay, and I learned the value of keeping shtum.
Last November, I did the usual phone-upgrade thing with Orange, and I got a Nokia 6710. I didn't want a camera, it just came with it, and for six months, I was annoyed that it was a phone that primarily perceived itself as a camera, and you had to press more buttons to make a call than take a pic.
Two summers ago, I angsted for ages about which digital camera to buy - balancing technical requirements with value for money - because the moment you make the purchase decision on any piece of technology and press the "confirm order" button, that very minute something bigger/better/smaller/cheaper comes on the market and you are already working with tired materials.
The camera gods, however, were having none of it: my new digital camera was nicked by a taxi driver in New York less than a month after I bought it, and before I'd even had a chance to download the photos.
Sometimes, you think someone up there has a message for you.
But in the meantime, I'd got into my phonecam. Camphone. Who knows what you call all the new stuff that keeps arriving.
What I like is the spontaneity. The throwaway-ness. I'm not taking a day of work and saying "today is the day I take pictures." My camera's always in my handbag, because my phone is, and the impermanence of the snaps that I take is what does it for me. The artlessness, and the limitations of the form - closeups are better than vistas, real closeups just get fuzzy - mean that I have to work within restrictions that, bizarrely - seem to engender my creativity, rather than hamper it.
After I'd worked out the geek-stuff of getting my photos off my phone and onto my PC, I got excited. I felt like I'd found a new way to express myself. There's something both calming and life-affirming about recording the world as you see it.
This all came to a head in November, traditionally phone-upgrade month. Usually, I'm hungry for the latest whatever, craving newness above all else, but now I feel my Nokia 6710 is my trusty friend: I couldn't give it up for anything. Also, it looks slightly art deco in a fakely retro way, which makes me feel very Algonquin, which is never a bad thing.
And I never bought another real digital camera - I've thought about it, and delicioused all the research, but there's no hurry. Sure, I'd like to explore new ways of doing clever things with photos, but there's still so much for to discover with what I've got, that there's no real hurry.
No real hurry. That's a new concept for me.
So for a few months, I've had a flickr. Now I've got more than five hundred photos, and sure, lots of them are holiday snaps, but some are really good photos that I really like. And also, sometimes I think my blog looks a bit dull, all text, so I can break it up with pictures.
After all, a picture's worth a thousand words.
Check out my flickr at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sashinkauk/
Sasha F writes Sashinka
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
I often think of myself as a visual person: I dress in that textured creative way that implies I know the canon of visual imagery. I was Trinny-and-Susanna-ing my friends (without the nastiness, obviously) well before anyone knew from personal shoppers or TV shows. And I go to art galleries, and often notice small interesting details in the universe - visually - and imagine myself framing photos and referring to them later as I build up my records of how the world looks to me.
I am susceptible to my environment. I notice when people's furniture is the wrong size for the room, or their pictures are hung in a way that doesn't work for the space. A very long time ago (when I wasn't quite so good at knowing when to keep my mouth shut) I enabled the speedy and rather tragic ending of lovely relationship with a creative opera-lover-type who lived in Highgate because I rather forcefully insisted that he rehang the pictures in his living room. He subsequently turned out to be gay, and I learned the value of keeping shtum.
Last November, I did the usual phone-upgrade thing with Orange, and I got a Nokia 6710. I didn't want a camera, it just came with it, and for six months, I was annoyed that it was a phone that primarily perceived itself as a camera, and you had to press more buttons to make a call than take a pic.
Two summers ago, I angsted for ages about which digital camera to buy - balancing technical requirements with value for money - because the moment you make the purchase decision on any piece of technology and press the "confirm order" button, that very minute something bigger/better/smaller/cheaper comes on the market and you are already working with tired materials.
The camera gods, however, were having none of it: my new digital camera was nicked by a taxi driver in New York less than a month after I bought it, and before I'd even had a chance to download the photos.
Sometimes, you think someone up there has a message for you.
But in the meantime, I'd got into my phonecam. Camphone. Who knows what you call all the new stuff that keeps arriving.
What I like is the spontaneity. The throwaway-ness. I'm not taking a day of work and saying "today is the day I take pictures." My camera's always in my handbag, because my phone is, and the impermanence of the snaps that I take is what does it for me. The artlessness, and the limitations of the form - closeups are better than vistas, real closeups just get fuzzy - mean that I have to work within restrictions that, bizarrely - seem to engender my creativity, rather than hamper it.
After I'd worked out the geek-stuff of getting my photos off my phone and onto my PC, I got excited. I felt like I'd found a new way to express myself. There's something both calming and life-affirming about recording the world as you see it.
This all came to a head in November, traditionally phone-upgrade month. Usually, I'm hungry for the latest whatever, craving newness above all else, but now I feel my Nokia 6710 is my trusty friend: I couldn't give it up for anything. Also, it looks slightly art deco in a fakely retro way, which makes me feel very Algonquin, which is never a bad thing.
And I never bought another real digital camera - I've thought about it, and delicioused all the research, but there's no hurry. Sure, I'd like to explore new ways of doing clever things with photos, but there's still so much for to discover with what I've got, that there's no real hurry.
No real hurry. That's a new concept for me.
So for a few months, I've had a flickr. Now I've got more than five hundred photos, and sure, lots of them are holiday snaps, but some are really good photos that I really like. And also, sometimes I think my blog looks a bit dull, all text, so I can break it up with pictures.
After all, a picture's worth a thousand words.
Check out my flickr at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sashinkauk/
Sasha F writes Sashinka
For an introduction and list of contributors to Review 2005, follow this link.
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