Halloween
So last night was All Hallows Eve. Which means something like All Saints Day in Olde English. Which is the name the Christians gave to it when they had to come up with a way of rebranding another pagan festival. Which was because they were worried by the heathen idea that since it was the one night of the year when the realms of the living and the dead merged, the best idea was to dress up and go bananas.
Some things never change.
Everyone ended up at Sophie MacPherson’s new place. It’s at the other end of my street and is upstairs from the flat where the triple murder happened. Very Halloweeny I thought.
I went as a zombie and was pretty pleased with my impression of the undead. But top marks and a gold star have to go to Torsten who was a fully functioning microphone. If you spoke to him it got transmitted.
Grrraaaagh… (red-eye courtesy of Kodak)
Nick as Man With Chair On Head.
Neil, the skintight mummy.
Charlie operating Muppet Charlie with his left hand.
The man on in the mic.
Oct 30, 2005 at 23:47 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Random Junky
I was in town yesterday getting my Halloween kit sorted out when I saw a junky getting up to some heroin fuelled mischief.
There is a couple who busk in town on a semi-regular basis. The guy plays a great big keyboard and the girl sings. One thing that makes them stand out from the veritable cavalcade of buskers in the city is that they are both blind. Not that it should really- their blindness might be more remarkable if they were doing something like card tricks. I don’t know, maybe it’s just the fact that their money never gets stolen by ne’er-do-wells that impresses people. But there you go, they’re blind.
Something that is a much more common sight in Glasgow is this: Busker busking whilst being accompanied, on a strictly impromptu basis, by an drunk old man ‘dancing’ or otherwise making a cack-handed attempt at enhancing the performance. Predictably, their presence is almost always ignored by both the public and, often to a ridiculous degree, by the busker themselves. The busker will continue to strum, fiddle, blow or otherwise commit what must be considered in policing terms to be a breach of the peace, while the drunk man will enthusiastically lurch/wobble/vibrate in a tight radius around his chosen target.
Well, it was a variation on this theme that I saw yesterday. A reversal of sorts. The blind couple were there with all of their gear all set up and were at full throttle when I walked past. The girl was belting out You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings and was singing …did you ever know that you’re my heeeeero … and everything that I would like to beeeee … I can fly higher than an eeeeeagle … for you are the wind beneath my wings. But the twist was, she was being accompanied by one of the city’s heroin enthusiasts, who had taken time out of his day pushing a shopping trolley full of copper wire* to accompany the sightless chanteuse. He was right up at the microphone, inches away from the girl, giving it everything he had. But his drug addled state seemed to have robbed him of his mojo. Despite mouthing all of the words he was failing to produce any sort of sonic impact and the blind buskers had no idea he was even there.
*A remarkably more common sight that you might reasonably expect.
Oct 29, 2005 at 23:33 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Random Junk
Okay, so I got side-tracked just as dead animal photograph week was taking off. It’s a matter of opinion whether or not this is a good thing or a bad thing. In the meantime, I’ve been fiddling with some random junk. The newest thing is a random image-getting thing that I’m pretty pleased with.
Oct 26, 2005 at 22:56 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Piranha
While I’m on the theme of dead animal pictures, here is a picture of the red-bellied piranhas that I used to keep. (Well, I still do keep them, it’s just that I keep them in the freezer now). It seems that after they get to certain size (that is, big enough) they start to turn on each other. And that’s what they did. So I froze them.
Oct 22, 2005 at 13:58 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Ex-Mouse
Another one bites the dust…
Oct 20, 2005 at 10:30 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Bohemia
Oct 19, 2005 at 12:28 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Nitromors
Uneventful weekend… today I’ve been working on the bathroom which has mostly involved stripping and sanding layers of paint, the most recent of which appears to be over forty years old. It’s like a journey back in time with Nitromors. (A very boring and dusty journey back in time to an age when paint was mostly green and was made so well that in the future it would be virtually impossible to remove). If that stuff gets on your skin though… it’s like the xenomorph’s blood in Alien. I thought it was going to burn my hand off, go right through the floor and into the flat downstairs.
Now I am tired and dirty and I’m going to go and have a bath in my half-finished bathroom and see what happens if I breathe in any more fumes.
Oct 16, 2005 at 22:10 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Lunar Psycho
Seeing Bret Easton Ellis last night was really good. He was very witty and charming and he talked about how he had reached breaking point with reading out the same section of his new book again and again and again (his publishers made him do it he said). So he read out some other parts of his new book, for the first time apparently, and it all sounded like good funny dark material. And then he was interviewed, if you can call it that, before answering a range of questions ranging from the slightly dull to the idiotic. By the time I met him and got my book signed, it was the culmination of a somewhat non-linear series of events. Most of which took place inside my head.
When I bought the tickets to see him it had kind of been at the last minute. After buying them I went back into the shop again and almost bought a copy of the book to read before I saw him. But then I thought I might as well go and see him and just let it all be new. So then I hovered for a bit and almost bought a copy of American Psycho. I stood there staring at all the copies completely unable to decide whether or not to buy one. I was in a kind of mental knot.
I first read American Psycho when I was at school. It obviously wasn’t part of the curriculum, but that’s where I first remember reading it; I must have been about sixteen. Well, it really turned my head inside out. I’m talking stylistically here. The graphic description of women being dismembered was obviously brutal, but that’s… well, that just is what it is. It was the whole flat affect style that really blew my mind. And any book that can start with Abandon hope all ye who enter here… and end on THIS IS NOT AN EXIT is operating in an interesting zone. And to that I take off my hat. (Apologies to the anyone who hasn’t read it yet- all three of you, as they say).
For me, it was exactly the right book at exactly the right time in my life. I was (and still am) sixteen years old and here was a book darker and more nihilistic than Aleister Crowley on downers. Yet when you actually read it you found out that while that was ostensibly true, it was also an acerbic and witty satire. It really was the real deal.
I never actually owned a copy of the book though. Which is pretty strange. I don’t quite know why this is. When I say it’s strange, that’s only because I’ve kind of got a funny thing about books which is a whole other matter. But anyway. I never owned a copy of the book. Until a few years later when I was briefly at University… I was with a girl (briefly) and she had a copy of the book and I borrowed it and I never saw her again and so I had a copy of American Psycho. On the title page in small neat letters in black biro it said:
To Jo -
Merry Xmas 91
Mum and Dad
x
Basically, circumstance had granted me the perfect copy of one of my favourite books. And that was the copy that I had for years. (In fact, it was only recently during one of my audits that I got rid of it).
So here I was, stood in Borders, staring at paperback copies of American Psycho. I was pleased to see that the cover hasn’t changed. But I just couldn’t buy one. I don’t know exactly why. It was something to do with the attachment of the book to my past but I stood there looking at all the wee American Psychos lined up neatly on Borders’ shelf staring back at me and I just couldn’t bring myself to take one home.
Okay, fast forward. I’ve just watched/listened to Bret Easton Ellis do his thing. I’ve got a copy of his new book Lunar Park tucked under my arm, I’m queueing up to meet him and get it signed and suddenly it hits me. What the fuck am I doing stood here with a copy of Lunar Park under my arm? Have I lost my mind? I should be only minutes away from getting the man himself to sign a copy of American Psycho. American Psycho! I began to get a weird wave of anxiety. Then I noticed that the girl in front of me was holding a copy. I tapped her on the shoulder and said excuse me and explained as best I could without her thinking I’m a complete nut, that I had to have a copy of that book and I would swap her copy for a nice shiny brand new copy of his latest novel Lunar Park which I had purchased only ten minutes previously. She looked confused. So I began to persuade her and she said weeell, the only thing is that this has got my name inside it. She opened it up and sure enough there was her name written across the first page in pink pen. I explained that that was fine because my copy had had a girls name in it and that was not only okay but also strangely appropriate. She was just about to part with it when she said, oh wait actually, they’ve got copies up at the desk, I’ll keep your place in the queue if you like. I was off like a shot.
I got to the desk and told them that although I had just bought a copy of Lunar Park something had gone wrong in my mind and please could I change it for a copy of American Psycho. Okay, said the lady who looked like she was sucking a lemon at gunpoint. Oh I’m sorry we’ve run out. Whaat, completely? There must be one somewhere. No sorry.
So I took my place in the queue again. I told the girl with the pink name she should keep her copy. I was not in a good mood. The queue got shorter. My mood got worse. What was I doing? With about three people to go in front of me I though to myself, okay, I’m going to fix this situation. The guy in front of me got a photo taken with Bret, got his copy signed and went away… and then I met the man himself. It went like this…
Me: Hi Bret.
Bret: Hi.
Me: You got red-eye in that photo.
Bret: What? I’ve got red eyes?
Me: No, in the photo.
Bret: Right.
Bret takes my book and starts to write in it.
Me: Bret, can I ask you something?
Bret: Sure, what is it?
Me: You’re going to hate this…
Bret: I’m not going to hate it.
Me: Well okay. You see, American Psycho’s sort of been an important book for me but for a few reasons I’ve never actually owned a copy.
Bret: Yeah.
Me: Well, I was wondering if you could maybe score out the title of this book and write American Psycho.
Bret suddenly comes to life
Bret: Alright, of course!
He starts scoring out the title
Bret: Actually, you know what, I’m going to write right over this, is that alright?
He’s grinning and getting into it
Me: Of course, go for it.
He gets a big magic marker and starts writing American Psycho all over the Lunar Park title
Me: Great! That’s much better than a real copy.
Bret : [laughs] Yeah, I think it is.
He hands me the book.
Me: Thanks, I really appreciate that.
Bret:[smiling] It’s nice to meet you Gregor. [shakes my hand]
How good is that? Mission accomplished.
Oct 13, 2005 at 19:27 Filed Under: Blog Comment
Generation Y
The weather has been grey and wet these last few days but for some reason I’ve really liked it. It’s also perfect weather for magic mushrooms, but that’s another story. I was walking through town yesterday when I dropped into Borders to get a book. As usual I didn’t have anything in mind but in the end I got a nice hardback copy of Borges’ Ficciones for a tenner. Bargain.
When I was paying for it, I found myself saying, ‘And two tickets to the Brett Easton Ellis reading please’. It just kind of came out of nowhere- I had seen the posters but I hadn’t really processed them. Or rather, I must have- either that or I am currently possessed by the spirit of a Brett Easton Ellis fan. So I got 2 tickets for four quid each. Another bargain!
So in a couple of hours I am going to see the man himself read from his new book, Lunar Park (which I haven’t read). It’s been ages since I last went to see an author I really like. I missed Iain Banks a few months back, but I met him years ago when he signed Use Of Weapons for me and advised me not to read it. In fact, the last time I went to a reading I got chucked out. It was Douglas Coupland and he was reading from All Families Are Psychotic when it had just first come out…
I had been drinking and I decided to go and buy a Douglas Coupland book. So I went into Waterstones and I was looking around when the man said that I wasn’t allowed to go round into a downstairs unless I had a ticket. When I asked him what I needed a ticket for he told me it was to see Douglas Coupland reading from his new book. I completely freaked out. I had no idea that he even had a new book out or anything. It seemed like some sort of cosmic coincidence.
So I asked the man for a ticket and he said there weren’t any left. -Whaaat? None left, you’re kidding, you’ve got to be able to squeeze me in. Pleeease! But the man just looked slightly smug and, despite my best efforts, refused to bend the rules. So I gathered all of my powers of persuasion and convinced him to let me go downstairs and at least buy a copy of the book.
Off I went with strict instructions to go straight down, see the other man, tell him the man upstairs said it was okay, buy the book and come straight back up. When I got downstairs, there was a big screen set up and loads of chairs and lots of people all sitting in rows listening to D.C. reading away. And here was me, supposed to be grateful for even being allowed to buy the book. The downstairs man handed me my copy, and as I put my hand in my pocket to get my money I realised that I was in possession of a pen. That was it. That was enough to tip the balance. I thought to myself, what’s the point of being patronised by some pretentious jobsworth when one of my favourite authors is in the building, I’ve got a copy of his book and a pen. When I paid for my book I had already made up my mind as to my course of action.
I walked slightly over to the side, thinking to myself -Well it’s do or die, I’m going to have to be quick. And the downstairs man must have read my mind because he said -Excuse me, you’re not allowed to go around there, there’s a reading in progress. And just turned and looked at him and said -Oh really?
Then I just zipped around the side, and sort of charged up to Douglas Coupland who was sitting in a chair on a small stage, in the middle of a sentence, and just thrust the book and pen at him and said -I’m sorry to interrupt, could you sign this for me please? And he did! He looked a bit surprised at first but then he put down the book he was reading from and signed mine. I apologised again, thanked and saluted him and went away. Then I realised that he had forgotten to give me my pen back, which was sort of a lucky pen, so I went and got it back and went on my way.
By this time the upstairs man and the store manager were out in full force. The manager was a big fat camp guy who said something like -Do you realise what you’ve just done? I said yes, of course I did. Then he flapped as he obviously tried to work out how to tell me off. So I said -Look, I’m sorry. You can ban me if you want, but what’s the point. If I knew I was going to get banned I would have done it anyway. Plus, it was between me and D.C. and he seemed to deal with it okay. (It wasn’t like I had chucked a cup of coffee over him).
The manager man said -Yes well you shouldn’t have done it okay. And I said -I know. I’m going home to read my book. Goodbye.
And that was that.
The point is, tonight I’ve got a ticket. Which is probably just as well because this is Brett Easton Ellis we’re dealing with here. He would probably gouge out my eyes and eat my ears off if I tried a stunt like that.