It's been a crazy ten days or so, running around performing nonsensical errands for GISHWHES. It's over, now; the deadline has passed, and it's time to start thinking about what we're going to do with the unusual side-effects of our quests.
What, for example, are we going to do with a golden plunger? Will I keep the monkey hat? Should we disassemble the kale chandelier, or just chuck it? Do you want some barely-used candyfloss?
We didn't even take it that far. Some dedicated team actually launched a Christmas tree aloft with only helium balloons, and made the news in a few places in the process!
Anyway, as I've said, I'll share a few photos when we're given the all-clear.
The past few days have consisted of me being alternately grumpy and sad, interspersed with brief moments of Baileys.
Baileys makes everything better.
Please link me to something that'll cheer me up, I could really do with it.
Much love.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
"Why did nobody ever tell me blogging was this much fun?!" my housemate exclaimed, leading me to do a tiny wriggle of shame. He's recently discovered it, and is of course taking to it like a duck to water, or a bird to flying, or an excitable child to getting jam all over things.
And I feel bad about neglecting you, because I really have no excuse not to. It's been like that period after a breakup when you still want to text your ex every little thought that crosses your mind. I've still wanted to blog about things - I performed poetry, it went well! My hair is purple now! I've been to some very fun parties (and one that... was less fun)! I discovered an amazing book, and did you know we have a new office? - but there's been a veil of awkwardness not dissimilar to the stomach-lurch of "oh, we're not together any more."
I don't know why this is. I certainly haven't broken up with my blog. But I have... I have kind of been cheating on it. Tumblr, with its two-click reblogging and bitesized reaction posts, is so much less demanding. All I have to do is respond to stuff! I don't need to digest, assess and recontextualise information in an engaging and thought-provoking way. I'm not saying Tumblr can't be used for that - it certainly can! - but in my experience, one simply doesn't have to try that hard, and it's making me lazy. I'm going to make a conscious effort to come here instead, and put a bit more work into making my blog of 6 years (blimey) what it deserves to be.
This stuff would never fly in a relationship. "I swear, baby, I'll make a conscious effort to prioritise you over my mistress!"
"Oh will the fuck you?"
This week, much of my time is going into GISHWHES, an international scavenger hunt that's being arranged by Misha Collins. I am in two minds about him. He plays Castiel on Supernatural, calls his twitter follows 'minions,' and has a face that I would like to put near or around my face. And yet. I will never, ever call him Overlord, as some of his fans do. Mostly I want to usurp his crown.
Misha Collins: only human
Yes, that's basically it: I consider him a worthy opponent.
The prize for GISHWHES is that Misha takes your group of ten worldwide scavenger hunters out for a spaghetti dinner in Rome. That's... well, I mean that's pretty cool. Once the deadline's passed and I can share them without breaking the rules, I'll upload a couple of the photos I took in pursuit of this prize.
I'm looking forward to having a bit of time off so I can make things. I want to write poetry, maybe get back into songwriting (my voice is finally 85% returned after a nasty cough), and basically begin to challenge myself creatively again. I've come up with a tentative, unformed plan to leave Cardiff in favour of America at some point, too. I've never had ambition before, so I'm not really sure what to do with it!
Here is a song from Jukebox the Ghost, because I like the video.
The following movie reviews are not what you might call professional, because sometimes I don't pay attention.
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy:
I really wanted to like this film. It's got Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, and Benedict Cumberbatch. What's not to like about that? It screams class and distinction, and I'm a cultured person who goes to the opera and everything, so I should like it, right?
Er, maybe.
It was very slow-paced, and the stiff upper lip mannerisms displayed by the main characters, while very in keeping with that time and world, serve to make the first half of the film drag severely. It's hard to engage emotionally when everyone on screen is doing their damnedest to act like feelings are for the little ladies. The saving grace of the first half was, in my opinion, a thoroughly enjoyable scene with Kathy Burke. I'd never seen her in a non-comedic role before, and was delighted and not a bit unnerved by her personable and slightly predatory character!
It did pick up towards the end, with Colin Firth getting to show off a bit more of his emotional range, but by the time the film finished I was left a bit unclear about what the whole endeavour had been for. My fault for going to the cinema while sleepy, I'm sure, but there it is.
Real Steel:
I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed this film. Oh, I know, I expected it to be rubbish too! I've heard the jokes: it's the movie adaptation of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, and so forth, but honestly I haven't grinned through so much of a film in a long, long time.
Charlie, played by Hugh Jackman, is believable and likeable while still being deeply flawed. His son, Max, played by the unbelievably talented Dakota Goyo, had me thinking "that kid is SO BOSS" throughout the entire thing. He was born in '99, can you believe that? Ugh what am I doing with my life. And, oh yes, Evangeline Lilly as Bailey. I've only seen Evie as Kate in Lost before now, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Bailey is much less annoying. I'm being unfair... she was amazing in this. Really.
There were moments - very very brief, unmentioned moments - that asked big questions. One shot of a robot facing itself in a mirror, motionless, sparked off so many questions that were never touched on, but the film is all the better for it. This is shameless fluff, and addressing machine sentience is a little out of its grasp. Well done them for not overreaching. Don't make the mistake of interpreting that as an insult: the thing about feel good movies is that they make people feel good! I left the cinema with my heart barfing regenbogen and pleading for a sequel. There will be one. I am delighted.
So what have we learned? That Anna is not cultured, and that Dakota Goyo has a bright future. Oh and regenbogen is German for rainbow.
This post contains creepiness, swearing, and excessive lusting; so if you don't want your illusions of me shattered, or want to read me fangirling hard over gorgeous manfaces, ↓↓↓ scroll down to the kitty buffer. ↓↓↓
Otherwise, glad to have you with us and I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. This is my catharsis, ok? I write one, long, freakily obsessive post about Supernatural and then I never mention it again because you deserve better than this.
It started off innocently enough. People shared pictures and stories and opinions on their tumblrs, and a lot of them like the same things I do! They like Doctor Who, and Buffy, and this show I hadn't seen called Supernatural. Eventually, knowing that a couple of my friends really liked it, I decided to give it a go.
This was simultaneously the best and worst decision I've made in a long time.
You see, I love it. The story, the characters, the actors... but Tumblr doesn't leave it at that, oh no. It nourishes obsessions. So after the more immediate pleasures in discovering a new show to enjoy, I started discovering a few of the more... niche... aspects of the 'fandom'.
I discovered the slash fic. And I like it. Some of it is very well written. And from there I discovered RPS, real-person slash, which is... contentious, is probably the word. I like that too. I would probably keep very quiet about the fact if I ever met any of the cast, but still, there it is.
I discovered the lurid past of Jensen Ackles, and some of his more questionable fashion choices.
You have to understand just how gorgeous these people are. The whole damn show is oestrogen bait; the conventions are the lady-heaviest nerdcons I've ever seen.
Jeffrey Dean Morgan, aka John Winchester (and the Comedian from Watchmen!)
Matt Cohen (@mattcohen4real), aka young John Winchester (and others*)
Mark Sheppard (@mark_sheppard), aka Crowley, aka Badger from Firefly, aka Canton Delaware from Doctor Who, aka Romo Lampkin from Battlestar Gal- actually you know what I'm just going to leave this here, it would be quicker to list the things he hasn't been in
Also I think there are some female characters? Apparently. (Although not many. The fans don't seem to like 'em...)
RIGHT KITTY BUFFER and then no more fangirling and / or lusting after strangers.
In other news, my birthday celebrations (cue update guilt, it feels like quite a while ago) went very very well indeed! I got sent on a fantastic treasure hunt that involved deciphering clues and getting the next one from whichever friend it pointed me to. I got a treasure chest at the end of it full of Lush products, which was just about perfect! The charity shop scavenger hunt I 'planned' went brilliantly; we got fancy hats, snazzy ties, and ugly ornaments aplenty.
Oh yeah, the ugly ornaments... the front-runner was a pottery bear-house that contained three little abominations. I mean, that thing is UGLY. But we had a surprise winner when the creepy pierrot-ish clown ornament turned out to be a music box. It's the most sinister thing, if I can I'll take some video of it because that thing needs to be in your nightmares as well as mine.
We went back to my house with the loot and had a barbecue / party / social gathering that really made my day. By midnight, when I actually turned 24, we had eaten, drunk and been merry, and continued to do so until bedtime.
I will attempt to curb my Tumblr dependency and update this more often, because there's not a shred of doubt in my mind that this is the more worthwhile endeavour. Something something tallest dwarf.
This Saturday, from 1pm, a poetry event called 100 thousand poets for change will be taking place in Shot In The Dark on City Road. Not all of you live in Cardiff, of course, but the event will be (gulp)livestreamed here oh my goodness.
The theme is "the doors of perception," and I'll be performing at rrrroughly quarter to 2, but do get online / there from 1pm. There's going to be some QUALITY wordsmithery going on. In fact, right after me, Leeum Johnson is performing, and you know what I think of him (hint: he is ammmmaaaaazing).
Also, and this is so so exciting, the headline act is Labi Siffre. This Labi Siffre.
THIS LABI SIFFRE.
This may sound cheesy or whatever but this song used to make me cry when I was a teenager and still felt feelings right. That I'm going to meet the man who wrote these words AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
and all after that was incoherence and panicking
I better come up with something GREAT. At least I'm not reading after Leeum, I really don't think that would go well for me.
So yes, come if you can, sign up to Bambuser if you can't. Entry is free, any donations made will go to Lapidus Cymru. I'm nervous.
I wandered around the grass expanse of Bute park, toes clenching and relaxing in the lush grass, treading happily on loose dirt, or my outstretched legs splashing shallow in the river. The barbecue smoke washed through my hair, which I don't mind at all - for the rest of the day, every turn of my head would remind me of it - and the music flowed from the macbook.
Haha, yes. I was getting back to nature in true filthy-footed hippie style, and my cute, skinny, indie-boy friend was playing music on his macbook. I have more cute, skinny, indie-boy friends now than at any previous point in my life. They sure know how to make me feel flabby and uninteresting (on my worse days. Today, I felt nothing but enjoyment of their company. Take that, insecurities!).
The food was great, the company was wonderful, the music, and the grass the grass the grass - my feet were filthy by the time I'd stopped wandering around. Honestly, get one cider in me and I'm so much happier! I even clambered about on the stones in the stone circle grinning happily to myself. I do love Bute Park.
These photos of the park weren't taken yesterday, but they're mine and I like them. So there.
And then, and then, a poetry event! Word4word in the yurt at Milgi. There were bad poets and good poets, a couple of stunningly funny monologues, Leeum doing his thing (that makes me feel like I've been set on fire with language), and one poet who made me take an intensely strong and personal dislike to him. Words have power, kids: they can make me decide you're a dick.
They can also leave me with a burning desire to write. I'm glad I took a notebook with me. It may look pretentious, sitting among poets and scribbling down poetry, but the ideas come thick and fast at those events and they never stay put for long.
To everyone who's comforted or checked up on me since the last blog post: thanks for caring. You really don't need to worry, though. Very soon after writing that emofest, I saw a song by Goldfish that made me dream that I'd decided to stop wallowing and get on with shit. So get on with shit I shall!
If you know me in person, I'm sorry for being a little bit out of sorts lately. It seems like, in the past few days, a switch has flipped inside my head and now I'm fed up of being alone again.
I won't try to claim that I hadn't been looking for anyone prior to that, but I was essentially okay with being single. I got my share of attention, and while it never led anywhere, it was nice to know that some people still found me attractive. But there have been moments - today especially - when I've heard a second- or even third-hand account of someone falling in love, and have been consumed with misery at the reminder that I'm not anyone's favourite person any more.
It doesn't help that, upon recovering the data I'd thought lost when my laptop died, I discovered old photos of holidays with my ex that I'd forgotten about. It sucks to ask myself when's the last time I looked that happy and (crucially:) relaxed. I still do feel happy, of course, but more often than not it's an oh-god-please-like-me kind of smiley, all bright and tense and desperate to be accepted. I watch myself doing this. Half of me is craving positive reinforcement, and the other half is convinced I don't deserve it.
This sounds awful, doesn't it. Self-indulgently emo, and with no good reason. But I'm willing to bet that you know what I mean, because we've all felt it, and for me this left-on-the-shelf feeling is back in a big way like I haven't felt it since I was nineteen.
Well, this is just tonight. Maybe in the morning, or in a day or a week, I'll have an entirely different outlook. I hope so.
THAT'S RIGHT LET'S ALL FEEL SAD FOR POOR LITTLE ME
Tonight I played some Magic: the Gathering on a sticky pub table; then I went to my second Ukulele Night at Gwdihw, a Cardiff bar that I've otherwise never set foot in. The people were so friendly, and so interesting! I hope to join them for next month's jam session. I'll bring my lovely uke along and show them what little I can do.
Ukulele + cats = maybe heaven?
I've also been watching a documentary about Bill Hicks (this link is good for another 24 hours if you're in the UK). I've seen the occasional glimpse of him before - saying strange things about the nature of reality, or verbally abusing hecklers - and I've been too scared to hear him out, but I think I'm a different person these days. The past few years... I've experienced a lot more. I'm not claiming to be a better person than I was, but I understand him better now.
"I need my sleep. I need about eight hours a day, and about ten at night." - Bill Hicks
As requested, this post contains more kitty than my previous one, and a game about Scroobius Pip's beard that I think is absolutely fantastic. Give it a go!
Found no results for Scroobius Pip + cat. Nice going, so-called GOOGLE.
