Proving how spectacularly behind the times I am, it’s taken me a little while to find these wonderful parodies of Brokeback Mountain, which basically take the principle of spoof trailers one step further, by finding gay love stories in some obvious (and some not so obvious) places.
Most of these are on IFilm- so, if you haven’t seen these yet, brace yourself for:
Gosh. I just got mentioned on Neil Gaiman’s blog- having met him a while back at the Anansi Boys launch, I thought I’d send through the link to the Mirrormask review I did for Channel4.Com via his website. I sent it through a while back, and nothing happenned, so I figured it had probably just gone the way that all e-mails do when they’re buried under a thousand other e-mails.
Not so. And click here for the brief (but worryingly accurate) proof:
I’m a writer.
Gulp.
I’ve actually managed to generate a manuscript that’s two hundred pages of single space text (so proper, double-spaced manuscript, I’m getting on for 400) and this is what I want to do. I’ve also been wrestling with a major bout of depression since I stopped writing. Trouble is, I’m monumentally uninspired by film journalism at the moment, but I need to be earning a little more. I know that there are small, annoying things I need to do in order to keep myself going and keep things afloat. Things have been tough financially before- but they’ve never been tough while someone else has been involved. I feel terribly responsible and that I need to find a way of looking after George and helping out more- and yet, I think I know for certain that the only way I can do that is by writing. Lots, and lots of writing.
We’ve got another party coming up, and I really need to send out some invites. The last few days have been rather up and down mood-wise, and I haven’t been sleeping right- but I’m hoping that things will get better soon. All this is making me realise exactly how important George is to me, and how much i care about her. It’s also making me realise that the stuff I’m writing is very strange, very energetic, and might have the smallest chance of working.
Saw V FOR VENDETTA on Monday- and, let’s just say, it wasn’t the most entertaining two hours of my life. As a big fan of the comic, I was expecting to be disappointed- and it’s not as bad as either FROM HELL or LXG, but it’s still heavily flawed. For shame!
Stuff to do tomorrow. Have to knuckle down, and get myself out of this rut!
More soon…
Confidence is a funny thing. (As well as a preference of the habitual voyeur of what is known as… )
(Sorry- dreadful Britpop injoke. Won’t happen again)
Basically, I’ve had a fantastic few days, stumbled slightly today just because of a few interruptions and a general lack of energy. And now, I’m thinking- (or at least a part of me is thinking)- that I’ve lost my groove and won’t get it back. I’m going to try and not let it stop me, at any rate. I’ve done over 30,000 words in the last four days- and it’s still the topmost piece of the iceberg. This could, conceivably, be a bit of a monster.
Three more days. Gulp.
George’s mum is staying for the night- it’s been fun so far. I’ve volunteered to sleep in the lounge, so life will be consisting of sofa cushions tonight.
And I’ve got a selection of reviews for C4.com- two of which are for really bad movies- that means there’ll be more money coming in.
This is what I need to be doing more of…
Okay. It’s the second day, and things are going okay. I’ve already thrown in a few conceptual curveballs, I’m considering re-introducing a character I didn’t think I could fit (because I’m not certain that the engineering of the story will actually function without them), and I’m actually happier about this than I’ve felt in a long time. This is what I’m meant to do.
George had a very bad day yesterday, to the extent that she had to call me up just to vent down the phone about how bad things were going, so in order to cheer her up, I baked her a cake before she came home. It was just a Victoria Sponge with buttercream icing, but she was so amazingly happy as a result, it was quite lovely. I just wanted to do something to help, and that seemed like the natural thing to do.
Film night tonight- this week, we had BATMAN BEGINS- which George enjoyed much more this time around (first time, I had a bit of a weird reaction when she didn’t enjoy it that much). All went very well. And George’s mum is coming to stay on Tuesday night. I’m looking forward to the rest of the week- I just wish I didn’t have to stop writing (at least in this volume) when Saturday comes.
More to do…
So, here we are again. (Happy as can be).
Tomorrow, I start another week of writing. Who knows what will happen. But, with my fingers already aching slightly, any updates are likely to be quite small. I’ll try and do as much as I can, but I’m going to be spending 90% of my time in front of this screen, so the times when I’m not here are going to be rather sacred.
The launch was good fun, and gave me the chance to catch up with lots of people. I also know now that I really need to get further on with this novel. A week away from the world of Film Journalism will do me well- and after that, I’ll hammer back in at full force. I’m not letting this stop me.
Tick, tick, tick…
I’m feeling strange. A little disillusioned. And rather fed up of the world of being a freelancer.
As a result, I’m going to spend another week writing, starting this Saturday.
Hopefully it’ll brighten me up a bit, as the whole freelancer existance is doing little but getting me down at the moment. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. It’s just going to be lots and lots of struggling for the forseeable future, and I’m not sure if I like that idea. This is mainly just that I’ve been working like crazy for the past month to earn as much money as possible, and it’s kind of catching up with me.
Things will look happier soon. And I’ve got a launch party tomorrow, for Neal Asher’s new book, so there’ll be plenty of chances to make merry.
One mistake I’ve made is not writing down our latest decision- that Sunday night is, officially speaking, our film night. Because we both work, and George can’t always come to screenings, we don’t always get to sit down and watch things together (I can get rather daftly frustrated if she doesn’t want to watch, say, the latest episode of Battlestar Galactica- for me, it’s “It’s here! Let’s watch it!” where as for her, it’s more of a matter of being in the right mood). So, a couple of weeks back, we declared that Sunday night- because of the fact that even when she’s working, she’s always finished by 6pm- is Film Night. I get to choose five possible DVDs, but George gets final say about what we watch.
Two weeks ago, we watched a double-bill of Before Sunrise, followed by Before Sunset. Both utterly wonderful, and they both work so wonderfully together. Before Sunset actually manages to make the original even better, and echoes off it in lots of really intriguing ways.
Last week, it was 2001: A Space Odyssey. For George, it was bizarre because she’d seen so many references and knew so much about the film, and yet had never actually seen it properly all the way through. The only bit where she was drumming her fingers was the latter section of the Stargate sequence, where there’s lots of coloured footage of landscapes, which does, to be honest go on way too long. It’s the kind of film that grows with you- I spotted so many more links and themes than before. And technically speaking, it’s absolutely astonishing.
This week- Pride and Prejudice. We got it as one of the free DVDs in the goodie bags at the Critics Circle awards, and as this week is Valentine’s Day (we’re both working that day), we figured it was a good choice. It’s still very good, although a little too fast (the whole ‘Lydia elopes’ plotline takes seven minutes from start to finish!), and certain characters like Whickham barely get a chance to register. On the DVD, there’s also a slightly dodgy ‘Alternate US Ending’, which adds a scene of Darcy and Lizzie married, and which George thought for a moment started with Darcy with no trousers on and Lizzie on her knees, before realising that it was just rather darkly lit (and he was wearing those rather pale breech things they wore back then).
Lots to do this week. And not enough time to do it.
Okay- there’s some more stuff up at Division X now. It’s strange, it’s perplexing, and it’s actually bizarrely liberating to be putting some of my weirder bits of writing online. I can’t quite work out how to syndicate it so that it’ll automatically link to Livejournal yet. Lots of people do it, so it’s got to be possible.
Am currently very tired, slightly hazy, and looking at my life with a vague sense of confusion. Lots of things need to happen soon, and I’ve got to get myself in the correct headspace.
Hope it doesn’t take too long…
So, the Critic’s Circle Awards. Glitz, glamour and lots of people dressed up in fancy outfits. As it was, it’s pretty amazing that I even made it there, after a sequence of events that really shows exactly how easily I can raise myself up into a state of capillary-exploding panic.
Okay- the situation was that I was offered a day’s work sub-editing on Wednesday, but this had the small problem of how exactly I was going to get ready for the Critic’s Circle Awards. If I was going on my own, I could conceivably have gotten ready at work- but I wasn’t going on my own. George was coming with me, so after some negotiation, I got it sorted that i would be able to leave work at 5pm, thus giving me just enough time to get home, change, and for George and I to make our way to the Dorchester with all speed. The plan went pretty well at first. I got home at 5.55, and having already sorted out my clothes, and with George ready, I was able to get dressed, scrubbed and prepared. All that I needed to do was double check that I had the right bank card, so I went to my jacket.
It wasn’t there. And neither was George’s Oystercard, which I had borrowed for the day.
I started checking places methodically. It wasn’t anywhere I could think of. I couldn’t understand it- I’d had the Oystercard with me, I’d gotten through the gates at the station only ten minutes previously, and it was like it had just spontaneously vanished. I started panicking, seriously panicking. I could see this screwing everything up. I left George and ran desperately back to the station, checking every inch of the ground as I went. I asked the guy at the station, but no- nothing had been handed in. I ran back to the flat, and now time was ticking away. I felt like such an idiot for losing George’s Oystercard and a bankcard as well, but there was nothing for it. We were running out of time, and I felt like I’d already managed to find a brilliant way of screwing up the evening, so I gathered everything together, got my Oystercard back from George (she’d used it that day)… and then, I reached into the inside pocket of the jacket I’d been wearing for the past twenty minutes. And guess what i found? My Oystercard, and my bank card, safe and well.
Yes, I did feel spectacularly foolish. I’m good at panicking, but I’m not usually quite as spectacularly good as that. After that, we headed straight for the station- and then I realised I’d gone out without my shoe insoles, and would be very uncomfortable for the rest of the night. So I ran back- AGAIN- and got them. I was on speaking terms with the guys at the station at the end of it, who must have thought I was borderline schizophrenic…
Anyhow, we finally got there, and the Champagne reception turned out to be a bit of an intimidating scrum. We got trapped briefly by the entrance and half-blinded by flashes from the photographers trying to take pictures of Matthew Modine (very tall…), said hello to a few people, and then made our way inside to the table. Turns out, Sophie Okonedo wasn’t there- and neither was her replacement, the actress Helen McCrory, (possibly just as well- nobody on the table could remember who she was. I could, but I couldn’t actually think of anything specific that she’d done…) so, with a bit of swapping, we ended up with George sitting next to Derren Brown, and me next to charming film critic and all-round good egg James Cameron-Wilson. There were goodybags crammed full of stuff (we got DVDs of Downfall and Pride and Prejudice), and plates in front of us with strange appetisers that had to keep us alive for the entirety of the ceremony before dinner. It was fun, but it was one of those ceremonies where people keep insisting on waxing lyrical about the nominees rather than just actually getting on with it and opening the envelope- although one of the hosts giving away that Rachel Weisz had actually won before the opening of the envelope was a fun slip. Virtually all the awards I expected happenned- particularly vexxing was the fact that A History of Violence got nominated for loads and didn’t win anything. Ended up having fun with James’ daughter Juliette, and also having a nice (and slightly drunken) chat with Derren Brown, who was genuinely charming and very nice. He seemed to be happy to listen to me ranting in my slightly drunken manner, and he also has one of the most powerful handshakes I’ve ever encountered.
The meal was fantastic- although very rich, and as a result, the prospect for dancing was limited. I did, at least, get to throw some shapes on the dance floor, although the music selection (helmed by DJ Mary Anne Hobbs) wasn’t hugely inspiring. By 12 midnight, we decided that we’d had enough fun, and the whole thing had turned into one of those parties where everybody disappears off into their own groups, so we headed for the Underground and the last tube home. A sterling night, though, and I’m very glad that we did it.
As a result of the wine, lots of today was spent in a slight fog. Spent the afternoon getting lost on the way to Tufnel Park, and then watching the extras on the DVD of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for a review, which wasn’t as much of a trial as I expected. I had to go to a PR office and sit in a small room that was slightly too hot and didn’t have any openable windows to watch it, and when I got back, I decided to balance things out by watching the original version of gritty horror The Hills Have Eyes, as I’m seeing (again for a review) the remake tomorrow. And it’s by the guy who made Switchblade Romance. I am, as they say, slightly worried…
Also- I’ve created a new blog. Division X is a fiction blog for some of my short bits of writing. I can’t guarentee you’ll like any of it, but it’s there if you want to take a look…
Saxon Bullock 