Ah the sordid French films you can talk someone into watching, if that someone misinterprets the definition of ‘titular.’ Walk, don’t run (you might trip over the oftentimes prone figure of its titular character), to your nearest torrents site for an illegal copy of Anna M. And then decide to do something else with those two hours instead.
I’ve been too scared to take a proper lunch hour for as long as it’s been since I last posted here (I think skinny jeans were still in fashion) but resentment trumps fear today, so here I am, with virtually nothing to report.
Our love for the new flat grows by the day, no surprises there. A friend of ours reported a Noel Fielding sighting at our local Sainsbury’s; another invited us to come round to play Scrabble with a rock star that lives in the neighbourhood. Both of which leave me feeling a bit ‘huh’ but not terribly ‘wow’ if you know what I mean. Do you know what I mean? Good, because I don’t have the time to explain where I’m at with celebrity.
The neighbourhood is full of grand old mansions once bought by individuals who could afford a mortgage but not the furnishings necessary to live in all parts of their home. Our flat occupies a small part of one such home, and though it isn’t very big, it’s no smaller than our last flat, and it’s well furnished. Mostly we sit around slack-jawed and congratulating ourselves on a good find (and pondering a gigantic poster of Peter Greenaway’s Drowning by Numbers, which isn’t the most soothing of imagery to have situated near the bed, I admit).
I was supposed to accompany Bruce on a work trip to Norway this coming weekend, but that fell through, so instead I am taking the opportunity to get some real writing done. I want to finish (start, really) a film paper that only needs to beat out two others in order to win a cash prize, for instance. Obviously I’m reserving the right to not tell you what the contest consists of, or how to enter.
And there are many other things I’d like to do to become better acquainted with my new area. Spaying a cat is not one of them, but I’m pushing that to the top of my list after the ridiculous night of sleep we just had. Great, and because I’ve been working steadily around the fringes of writing this post, my lunch hour is once again gonzo.
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7 comments:
Pah, I think if you're living in London seeing celebrities or even hanging out with them is nothing special. (Edinburgh only has 2 celebrities, and I'm not sure if JK Rowling spends much time here any more. The other is Dylan Moran.) You should regard it as an insult if people tell you of celebrity sightings because it means they think you are not a proper Londoner.
Anyway, what were you saying about me on Twitter? That particular timewaster is blocked at my work for some insane reason (but even without it you can assume I'm procrastinating on the internet).
But I'm not a proper Londoner! And to be fair, the friend who told us about the celebrity sighting wasn't a Londoner either (American). I don't know if Noel Fielding could be considered a celebrity anyway (only about five people and the London Lite seem bothered).
I mentioned what you said about Flickr video because it's all people seem to talk about on that site. But you'd do better to write epic poems about Berlin museums on your journal anyway.
Skinny jeans aren't in fashion anymore?
You get a lunch hour" I work in a kitchen, so that's just a concept: I don't get that about the celebrities, as I can guarantee one never to have been seen in, for example,Cricklewood, or Tooting, etc etc. How far did you get with Mr Greenaway? I stopped at the Cook.....and only got through that because of Helen Mirren. My favourites are the Falls and A walk through H: after that I think I was more of a Michael Nyman fan than a Greenaway one.
I was under the impression that I'd seen nearly everything Greenaway made, but Bruce put a stop to that nonsense.
My favourites are Prospero's Books, The Pillow Book and Drowning by Numbers. Their appeal is largely aesthetic, which is majorly informed by Nyman, you're right (they were an unbeatable duo, weren't they!). I haven't seen a Greenaway film since I was about 23 though, which is plenty of time for a gal to outgrow something.
I'm much more interested in Michael Haneke these days...have you seen any of those? (Apart from Funny Games U.S. which somehow slipped into the mainstream, I mean). By interested, I don't mean charmed...ugh.
Does lunch stop at, erm, lunch for you at least?
The art film and I have rather parted company these days, what with kids, life, and no longer needing to puff myself up with my own artiness, thank goodness: I haven't even seen the Piano Teacher!
I though maybe I liked Peter haneke, and a google showed that most people think they are the same person: my short story teacher on the writing course said that one of my absurdly pretentious 'stories' was like 'Offending the Audience' by P. Haneker.
I then realised that who I really liked was Peter HANDKE: in other words I don't know shit....
However I have read a Thomas Bernhardt novel: that's alomost enough depressing Austrian-ness for me.
Lunch is like the art school dance: it lasts forever
Hmm, agreed. And now all people need in order to puff themselves up is half a wit and a weblog. Oy. Well, once the art films start running banner ads along their frames, I'm upping sticks and moving to...the moon I guess.
If you want depressing, you should definitely watch The Seventh Continent. It's about this family that decides to pick up and move to Australia. Except they do no such thing! Nope, not Australia.
Hokay, I am off to chase around my little ex-Elizabethan, as she looks far too happy licking at her stitches.
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