Ho. Ho. Ho.

I feel guilty. I didn't get Santa anything this year. In fact, I've been very remiss on that score for a long time. Sure, we all celebrate Jesus's birthday and are okay that he doesn't even send up a card, but Santa.. Man, that dude gets us tons of stuff. Every year. A mince pie seems a bit lame. Perhaps I leave an x-box on the mantel..

This blog entry brought to you from seat 100, row R, red seating, Wembley Arena. Eddie is due on stage in about seven minutes. I an praying for a lack of suck.

Hey, wapblogger is working! You miss me? So many news. So much to tell. Tell you later. Love you all.

Well, I'm about a quarter, maybe more.. Maybe a third.. Of the way through Order of the Phoenix, and what do I think so far? Probably not the right answer, but I'm liking it quite a bit. I don't like Harry this time round, but that's teenagers for you. I'm not supposed to, I guess. As easily written as the rest, it breezes past you and even has the capacity to suprise with flashes of genuine invention. I'll defer judgement 'til i reach the end, but for now? Glad I bought it.

Sometimes I come on here without really thinking through what I'm going to say. Like, uh, noodles. Or chipmunk. Oh, boy, that time I just said chipmunk on here. That was crazy. Really crazy, like a mad scene.

Anyway, here's a picture of a cat.



Cool!

pfffft. though why bother? i wonder if anyone reads the site beyond me and flapjack. i could be more relentlessly self-promoting, but...

Anyway, hello from Goat Country. Out with my parents for the weekend, you know. To see the dogs. I am, yes aware that the contact and writing links are broked, not that anyone is reading, but you can't just shout into a void, you just can't.

Still working.

How's the site looking? Looking okay? Bit more like a site? Yeah, yeah. Still a bit broken, but certainly better than it was, no? And Mike? Disrespect my design skillz once more and.. and.. well, dire warnings...

You wouldn't believe just how badly I screwed up presents for Her birthday. Not only did i screw up my own, but by conspiring with her family I managed to make sure She received exactly squat from Her boyfriend, sister and parents. Way to go, Moth! Woo! Go me!

Honestly, I've never seen the game over screen as much... Metroid Prime is beating me like a red-headed stepchild. But I'll make it pay. I'll make them all pay.

I just wish I knew which parent to blame for these lousy migraine-ridden genes.

Hell is full. Can I use your bathroom?

I'm not amazed, particularly, by the howling stitch-up going on at Tory central office. I'm perhaps slightly suprised by the transparency of it all, but that's about it. As a dyed-in-the-wool leftie I am also allowing myself a small portion of glee at the disarray the Conservative party has got itself into. I know NewLab need credible opposition, I know that, but goddamn, it's just too sweet sometimes. Liberals for second party status! Do it, England!

Hey, that last one posted! Cool! In a fit of irony, the signal kept cutting out. Hahaha.

I'm on my way to the quiz tonight, and am expecting great things - frankly, we've had some shitty luck lately, but toniht the director is going to be Spielberg, or Danny Boyle or someone I know something about. Dammit.

So there's this big magnetic storm heading in from the Sun and ... Sun is capitalized, yes? ... and it's fucking with my GPRS. Damn you, Sun! Do something useful for once!

Oh, goodie! Fireworks! Really, really loud fireworks about thirty yards away. I do hope one backfires and smites them like the wrath of Jesus.

Well, it's turned the corner into the street marked 'damn cold!' and I wish I had a coat on right now. A loose-knit wool jumper just isn't cutting it for me right now. I'm clutching my pret latte like a hot water bottle. Except I'm not. I'm holding my phone. Gonna stop now.

I just saw the remake of the ferero rocher ambassador advert. I mean, why? We didn't really like it, ad people! It wasn't the story we were transfixed by, it was the fucking shameful awfulness of it all! You can't make a posh version and expect us to greet it like an old friend! It was shit! That was its joy, it's saving grace! It's now just... blah. Not needed.

The poster I'm standing next to just lit up, right now. Oh. It's gone out. Hmm. Because it isn't dark yet? Oh, no it's on.. Ah. It's broken.

...

Next time I sound so much like Alanis, you have full permission to slap me. I started this new 'n' shiny weblog with the intention of it being free of the usual self-pitying drivel one finds in 99% of blogs these days (and so it always was and shall be, until the Goths dance their slow, comical dances under the dying sun, Amen).

So.

Someone I've known since they were 12 years old was killed in a car crash on Monday night. Just swerved into the front of a lorry, died instantly. He was 19.

I'm 26, I am cheerfully developing wrinkles and I've nothing to complain about.

I haven't posted for a while. I've not wanted you to know what I'm thinking. I'm tired all the time, and I'm cold most of the time, and I'm sad for no reason half the time, and I'm happy half the time for good reason, and I'm working, and I'm lazy, and I'm inspired, and I'm blocked.

I want. I have.

I just saw a taxi painted like a Tunnock's wafer. Swear to god!

Apparently, Supermouse and Pol are married. Married!

I don't care if you don't know who they are, why didn't anyone tell me before?

So. I got a phone call on Friday.

"Hi, it's Simon," - Simon's Australian, and he wants to make films of my scripts, so we like Simon - "Listen, I'm meeting this guy, a director, his name's Chris Noonan. You remember Babe?"

"Yuh-huh," because I did. Talking pigs, all that stuff. I have to say I thought it was George 'Mad Max' Miller, but that was just the screenplay it turns out.

"Anyway, I'd like to pitch him Maskerade," Maskerade being the script I've already done, not the script I'm working on a treatment for. "Do you have a treatment for Maskerade?"

"Ooh, er.." No. "I don't think so." No. "No."

"Do you think you can get one together for my meeting with him on Monday?"

Stop. You're all aware of the time difference, yes? This is Friday. Monday is not far away. And Simon's not going to want it for Monday morning. Sunday would be nice. That, to me, is Saturday night.

"I'll try."

I needed to write a treatment from scratch in just over a day. Aha. Ahahaa.

Well, I did it. Without the need to blackout the windows and consume a ton of mescalin, I sat in a bedroom and did it all. 5 pages, okay, you're thinking not a lot, but trust me, that's not easy stuff. I've been working on the other treatment for months, and I still can't get it. Luckily, I know this script backwards and, well... Look, I did it, okay? And I got Sunday off, to take advantage of London Open House and we went for a trip round the Hoover Building which is simply gorgeous. I've been an admirer of that building for years, and the chance to see round... Woo, cool.

Arr! Me hearties! Ye Landlubbers should know it's International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Me timbers are shiverin' at the thought o' it!

Just seen Alien the director's cut on the big screen. Wow. So timeless, so terrifying, so beautiful. Like the alien of the title. I admire its purity.

On the subject of terrifying movies, Ring. Or Ringu, if you want to make it sound like a play-doh penguin. First time through, you want to see what the victims see when they die.. And yet, when you see that, you really wish you hadn't. Cool as. I don't know why I thought of that, but I figured I'd share.

Well, I added a (hopefully functional) link to the Sanctuary blog archive at the bottom, so if you get down to the last post and are still itching for more, you're frankly amazingly thick-skinned. Just don't expect anything good, or even coherent, okay?

I will, I promise, get round to making this a full site. The index page will be more than a goddamn picture of Link in his boat - cute and awesome though this image may be. The full works, when I get to it. You know. Blog, writing, reviews, links, a picture here and there. Maybe.

So, anyway, I'm losing another collaborator, and, dammit, a friend, one of the few I still have any contact with these days. I dunno, I think I repel people I can work with. There is a small - vanishingly small - number of human persons I can comfortably bounce ideas off, and I've lost touch with all except one, and he's now off to the US. Well, good luck to you, old boy. I hope, I really do, that it goes well, because, let's face it, cool.

Two years since even the usually callous and flippant Sanctuary was blackened as a mark of shocked respect. Seems longer, funnily enough. Think I have to observe the minute's silence, since, well, it would seem a bit odd not to. You know? The essentials of the event which so affected me are unchanged, regardless of the actions of the US since. It was a horrible thing, and remains so. How long this reverence will remain is an open question...

In a totally different vein of nostalgia, Radio 1 just played Theme From S'Express. Jesus. I almost expoded, inner child outwards.

I miss the internet. Oh, cruel IT department, barring my Guardian access... just because people can get a bit sweary sometimes. Is that a crime? People of the world! Is that a crime? I miss afp, I miss Guardian Film, I miss Penny Arcade, I miss having a functioning website. Well, no more! This has to end! Either I get on, or I quit.

You know, I really can't think of a single thing to say. Sorry. I'll try again later.

I'm soon going to have finished The Two Towers, and I haven't yet bought Return of the Jedi. King. Sorry. King. The Two Towers is great for poncey high fantasy talk. The Riders of Rohan all declaim rather than speak, it's wonder they ever get through a conversation with normal people. Not that there are normal people in Middle Earth. They'd feel a bit lost, I suspect. You ask Eomer for directions to the toilet and see how far that gets you.
In other news, I heard Danger! High voltage! and Cannonball in quick succession on Xfm today, meaning it officially rocked this afternoon. This was after retuning from Magic FM's Corrs marathon, so double rock. I felt as Lauren Laverne said she did - 14 years old again, wearing DMs with Tipp-ex on...

So, they're just about to execute this guy in Florida for shooting dead an abortion doctor. And I'm torn, because on the one hand I absolutely oppose the death penalty, you can't help but think "Yes, that's about right, you sick little puppy". Of course, then you have the martyrdom aspect which, naturally, he's playing up. And that's the last thing we want. Gah.

I don't want him to be killed. I don't actually want anyone to be killed. Die, yeah, sure, I want everyone to die, otherwise we'll have a housing crisis the like of which we'll never have seen bef.. Oh, never mind. I'd prefer a long, long life sentence and perhaps education. But you feel like it wouldn't help this guy. He genuinely believes it's worth taking a human life in order to prevent the destruction of non-sentient cell bundles. It's difficult to talk about crime and punishment these days without sounding like a Daily Mail editorial, but, really, you have to throw away the key for these people. Or perhaps we could invent a time machine and send them back to the goddamn Dark Ages where they'd feel right at home.


{{{by the way. this week i didn't mention the anniversary. you'll need to guess exactly when it was, but it's now been just over a year since her and me got together. i've had to separate this off so it don't connect to the above rant. because that would be weird.}}}

Found my shoes. Hurray!

So, London crashed last night, and didn't get rebooted until this morning. I was in Baker Street station, having a bit of a read, when the lights dimmed. "Okay," I thought. "Talk to us." Which, eventually, they did, telling us to leave the station. Despite what the Mail/Standard might have you believe, no-one was panicked, no-one was terrified. The most anyone could muster was a sort of glum resignation as we filed out onto the streets to work out how the hell to get from A to B. I got a bus to Finchley Road - about half way between there and there - and found that the station there was closed, too. In fact, all stations were closed. Who knew? I thought it was just Baker Street. The taxis were all taken, and I had no idea which bus to take, if they weren't full. So I went to the pictures, as you do.

Confidence is pretty good. Engaging, well performed, enough twists to ensure you don't quite get them all.. yeah, a scam movie you can rely on. And, hey, at least I didn't just cop out and go see Dude! Zombie Pirates! again.

Well, when I emerged from the cinema, I found the system was still buggered. Herself was booked into a hotel in Euston, after being stuck in a tunnel for 45 minutes just outside King's Cross (no panic there, either), so I bussed it back there. Got to the hotel at 10:00, Baker Street still closed as I passed.

In summary, then. No panic. No terror. A bit of confusion. Normal service. And I'm hungry.

I haven't forgotten, you know. About posting and that. Just there's a lot going on right now, and I have to pace myself. Let me just say that herself has put an offer in on a house in Walthamstow (accepted) and we've been to Ikea and stuff.

You know, I'm worried. I may be going out with a grown-up.

It's a moment of some pathos in the life of a temp. Bank holiday! The freedom, oh the tasty freedom of Freedonia! Then you realise... Free for your employer, too. I haven't worked quite long enough to gain holiday points yet, so this is an unpaid day off. Bah.

Looks like I've lost my shoes. I can't be certain, mind. Anyone who finds a pair of once-blue Adidas Gazelles on a Metropolitan Line train, send of a postcard. Or, y'know. Take care of them..

Have just bought Resident Evil Zero, or Dude! Zombie Zombies!, if you prefer. And am reading Fellowship of the Ring. Could I be more of a dweeb?

Well, I could, yes.

Off looking at a house with the WBDG today. She's buying, I'm... Measuring..

Dude! Zombie Pirates! ... How could it go wrong? Well, it could be non-awesome. It could have dull stretches of time with no action. It could have ugly stars. It.. Didn't. It rocked. So much. Best blockbuster of the year, without a shadow of doubt. Even the cripplingly poor acting of some didn't matter (I'm looking at you, Davenport), it just had spirit, and obvious love of movies behind it. Not a boring moment to be had, it dashed from set-piece to set-piece without feeling crammed or unnecessary. Just a joy. And everyone is so pretty! Well. Not the bad guys, obviously. But the three leads and the monkey...

I was going to arrange to go see Dude! Zombie Pirates! tonight with Thomas, but I left my phone at home. What a doofus. I don't know how the world managed without mobiles, I feel quite useless. I may end up going to the cinema on my own, which is ridiculous when you have friends, but that's how it goes. I really, really want to see this movie. I got all excited when the WBDG was wondering about cinema times the other day, but she actually wanted to see Goodbye! Lenin, which has no pirates at all. Stupid no-pirates film.

Blip. Back on. Sorry about that. I think I interrupted Blogger doing something clever.

Apparently, I miss the point of weblogs on a regular basis. I was not aware of this.

Can anyone recommend a comments script which I don't have to have an advanced degree in being a geek to run? Also that I don't have to translate from the English from the German? That would be nice. All I want is some interaction!

Jesus, the amount of people doing these things, anyone would think that the everyday running of a weblog would be easy. I don't get php, okay? I don't speak computer. Computers are not objects of fear for me, they're just.. arcane. Like plumbing. I can get on with them quite happily, unblock the metaphorical plugholes and probably work out where that clang noise comes from at exactly 1.09 am every day, but I can't replace the goddamn pipes or fix the boiler. And people think I'm a geek. They really do. The fools. I know nothing.

Well. Anyway. Back to the weather. The air itself was hot, the actual breeze through the window of a car going at 75 was hot, like being in front of a hairdryer or a very tired dragon. And I got the short trousers (my calves are saucily exposed as I type) and sandals, though they're a size too big for my tiny feet. Never mind, though, they're only sandals. I'd probably go on about other things now, if I could remember. Like, ooh, getting ready to start writing again, and wanting to see Dude! Zombie pirates! so badly it's almost physically painful. Almost. Okay, so those geek threats might be a bit true. But not very.

You see, my point is that I'd like it to be worth your while coming to this site. You know? Further news: hotter again. Am northern-european pallid type, not built for this. May have to buy short trousers and sandals, then kill me.

Woo! It's hot! But you knew that, unless you're not in the UK, in which case: woo! It's hot! So hot, I had a shower with an ice-cube made of shower gel this morning. It doesn't get much hotter than that. As a final word: pimpmobile.

Have you missed me? I'm wondering what to do with this thing. I mean, what is the purpose of a weblog, anyway? Who cares about my shit? I mean, that doesn't already know? So perhaps I should modify what I'm doing here. I was thinking maybe a weekly update not necessarily a diary, just writing, but who gives a rat's ass about what I write? This engenders a real crisis of intent.. Why do this at all? No-one cares. Having said that, no-one cared before, so why not do what the hell I like and fuck perception? Hmm. More later.

Well, I saw Rob Zombie's directorial debut, House of a Thousand Corpses. It's a sort of not-very postmodern mish-mash of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and Herschell Gordon Lewis, and if you don't know what i mean, lucky you. It does what it does with style and is very effective, but what it's doing is by definition naff, it's not brilliant. Doctor Satan is also an out of place stab at a franchise monster stuffed into the last reel. This jars badly and rather spoils the gory joie de vivre of what's gone before. And they got the name of one of the characters wrong on the promotional cocktail. D'oh.

It would appear that escalator bannisters move slightly faster than the stairs. This means your hand gets to the top before the rest of you.

Signal failure at Finchley Road means I'm stuck just after Kilburn. My Wonderful But Demanding Girlfriend is here with me... Say hello, WBDG.. "Hello minions!" Well. Yes, that was about right. Like a chirpy Darth Vader. Only less leather. Leathery. Apparently. God, I have an editor.

Apparently mike doesn't like the design. Well, ya boo sucks. It's a modernist design tribute to the work of de stijl school artist Piet Mondrian, and has a smattering of Aztec influence. So I hope that leaves you feeling very much the philistine, Mister Gavin. MS paint, indeed. I'll give you MS pain when you're down in London!

How is it so hot on some bits of the tube? Are we that near the Earth's core?

So here I am at Waterloo station. Why? Well, wouldn't you be if you had the chance? Ahh, the heady sights, sounds and smells of an international terminal! Yeah, I'm on my way to work. Never mind.

So I've been looking at hostels in London. That's right, folks, homelessness beckons for this little moth. End of this week and I'm out of my house. Housing benefit failed to pay up over the past.. What? 8 months? Something like that. Anyway, off into the wilderness of no home I go. With luck, I'll be in a sort of backpacker hostel, or something, by this time next week. Yes, it's like a nightmare about a plague. But at least I have a job still! Look on the bright side!! Ay ay ay.

I'm all nervous for no good reason. Probably just waiting around to in to work, which always makes me feel crappy. I have things to do today, and I don't wanna, but I gotta, becase it's not just my problem. Hey, I can be more cryptic if you like. I was really unnerved by something at work yesterday, but the confidentiality thing I signed means I ain't gonna mention what it was. Oh, and Corinne? Wil Wheaton gets a link and I don't? What's up with that?

I feel like Gene Wilder in The Producers. I'm wet! I'm hot and I'm irritable and I'm wet! I'm also in pain, but that's just standing up all day. If you haven't seen The Producers, this is very funny, by the way. But you should, really. Anyway, it's been raining over lunch. And still hot. Yeah, good one, God.

Nice weekend, isn't it? Sunny, and with lots of things to do. So I did nothing. Hahahaha! But indolence has its own reward, and I feel warm and contented. Have more work next week, possibly ongoing, so why worry?

I'm clearly out of control on wapblogger, but why wouldn't you be? I can post from anywhere, except underground or the rainforest. And even then.. Maybe. There's a tree growing out of the building opposite. God knows how, there's no soil there. It's not landscaping, it's a scrap for survival. Poor tree. Or maybe not. Tough little thing, hanging on there...

I don't know quite why, but this guy's site is just beautiful to me. Maybe it's the Renaissance Man aspect of the list of qualitfications. Maybe it's the idea of this website somehow selling web design. Maybe.. oh, i don't know. But it's great, and more people should see it. Am I cruel?

Saw Finding Nemo last night. Awesome like a million billion hotdogs. I was pretty dubious from the first teaser trailer - unlike the incredibles, the teaser for which makes me angry at time's sluggardly progress - but it really is top quality. As you'd expect from Pixar, damn their over-achieving eyes.

Things you don't want to know, part a million: that your aunt swears blind that a your ex-girlfriend with straightened hair is the spitting image of you mum at that age. I mean..! Thanks for sharing!

Am rather hungry at the moment, which is odd. I mean, not for a human person, but usually I skip breakfast without noticing. Just lately, though, I've been really feeling the loss. Of course, just lately is when I can't afford it..

So I've been boxing stuff up. Files, you know. Anyway, this guy comes up and looks puzzled. What happened to all his files? They're in these boxes. Heh. He didn't like that. Not that he was pissed off, or anything. But he wasn't chuffed. Apparently, his stuff was packed away simply because we didn't have anything to do. Our over-efficency is his headache.

This ain't quite how it's going to be. But it's not exactly how it's not going to be, either. This is a rough cut of the new site. Say hello to modernism, folks. It's the new post-modernism.

Well, actually, it's the old post-modernism, but whose site is this, yours or mine? Exactly. Smartarse.

This will all be off the screen before anyone gets to read it. That makes thom sad.

Hmm. I got a letter a while ago, saying Egg would be switching cash card providers from Link to Visa Plus, I think it was. Today, my card does not seem to work. Egg have been bad about this in the past. A little bit of history repeating..?

I'm thinking of 'doing a Mike'. Not in the major lifestyle decision sense, of course. I might have to create a separate Wap blog if I'm just going to be posting shit here all the time. Or, y'know. Balls to it.

Today is Not Lard Day! Celebrate, mortals!

The inside track of the spiral staircase at moorgate. It's walk-down weekday morning rush-hour, and the inside track is a joy, can shave seconds off your time. And it's oddly satisfying to whizz past the other saps who chose the safer, slower outside track. Um. So that's my morning.

I am in some serious back pain here. Lifting boxes is clearly disagreeing with me, though it's a recurring thing, so perhaps that's a coincidence. Ow, anyway. Ow. Seriously. In other news, Finding Nemo on Tuesday. Woo to tha hoo!

This is from my phone, so counts as a test. Hello! Thank you, Mikey. You are the best ever.

I never noticed, playing Wind Waker the first time, that Medli - bird-woman - is the Earth sage and Makar - tree-man - is the Air sage. That's pretty cool, isn't it? I mean, isn't it?

Dispute this!


You are Dead Things!


Which Buffy Episode Are You?
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I know you will!

I officially don't exist. In blog form, I mean. This is a hidden world, away from the prying eyes of all but, well, probably Mikey. And a couple of others. Okay, so there are probably more people reading this than ever read my old world blog. And I shall be working on the design for the overall site this week, so look out for this in a brand spanking new context very very soon.

So, what's shakin'? My nose, as it happens. Hayfever is upon me again, from thinking I would escape this year. I gots it now, after a good few months of "Hmm.. don't seem to be getting the hayfever", so all is right with the world. Bloody world. Hate stupid flowers. Except the pretty ones, like sunflowers or gerberas.

Hello. Welcome to sanctuary mark... five? From big black fridge magnets to a stripped-down white blog. You're here. I'm here. Let's get this thing started, yes?

Doo be doo.

Uh.

Heh.

Not having an interesting time so far, are we? Never mind, this is just another place-holder, really. When the site's fully up and running.. I just wanted to get my blog working. I heard an item on the Today program about blogs - we're, like, sooo busted. They know. Y'know, out there. Radio 4 know. Quick! Get smarter!