An addendum to yesterday’s plea for sanity in an insane world, here from the fascinating literary/political blog Making Light, underlining exactly how dangerous Bush’s current desire to throw the Geneva Conventions out of the window actually is. The quote that most underlines the point:

“Back during WWII, resistance fighters were taught to avoid answering the Gestapo’s questions for 24 hours (and you can generally do this, even under frightful torture, which the Gestapo was fully able and willing to deliver). After that, they were allowed to say anything they pleased — because by then any plans they might have been aware of would be changed. Any operations they were engaged in would have been canceled. Any codes they knew would have been scrapped. Any people they knew would be living somewhere else under new names.

Which makes me wonder: Exactly what kind of useful information do we think we’re going to get from someone four years after they were captured?”

I’m hoping that the wheels come off this particular train as soon as possible.

I’m cynical enough about the world and the way it works at the best of times, but when I read a news story like this, it just makes me feel I’ve wandered into the wrong universe. How did we end up in a situation when one of the most powerful nations in the world is being run by an illiterate, torture-happy moron? And when the hell is someone going to actually do something about it?

News of an infinitely less important nature- my vague curiosity about how exactly the situation with new Doctor Who companion Martha Jones is going to be different from the rather dull Eastenders-style set-up of Rose’s family in seasons One and Two has been repaid, with the release of who’s playing her family. So, how is the series going to be heading in a dramatically new and different direction with these characters? Well… this time- they’re black! And there’s four of them! And… er… that’s it. The fact that Russell T. Davies has decided to cast an ex-DJ and Top of the Pops presenter should tell you everything you need to know, and how exactly they’re going to do this and not just end up recycling elements is beyond me.

More Who-related talk…

MISCELLAUEOUS

This was the word that was glaring out over a noticeboard in the Citizen’s Advice bureau. The thing that was most peculiar about it was that it took me at least thirty seconds to realise that there was actually only wrong letter. It had obviously been there for a while but it just added an extra edge of surrealism to the morning. At the least, today was the day when I took on the Citizen’s Advice Bureau in Turnpike Lane, and won!

Just.

Determined to get in, I got out of bed at 6am, set off at just past 6.50, and arrived at the Bureau at 7.10. Even then, I was number 8 on the list, and after just under three hours of waiting, it turned into a bit of a scramble, with people taking the “why queue, when you can argue?” strategy, but I quietly worked my way inside, and waited. And waited. And waited. And then I waited some more. All I could think of, while I was in there waiting for my number to be called, was the waiting room in BEETLEJUICE, and I really hope the afterlife isn’t like that. I’ve done enough sitting around as it is. Anyhow, after over two hours, I was called in for the assessment interview and- shock of shocks- got an appointment this afternoon, which meant a bleary trip back home for urgently required food, and then– more waiting. This time, it was only forty five minutes, and then I got seen by a very nice black guy called Thomas.

(I couldn’t help noticing- Black men really do have the right bone structure to be able to get away with shaving their head, or being bald. No matter what, they have a rightness about them- whereas white guys tend to look either ridiculous, camp, or like a neo-nazi. Just one of the thoughts rushing through my beleagured consciousness this afternoon…)

The news about the flat situation was an interesting mix of positive, interesting, and stuff that we’d kinda suspected. Basically- legally speaking, we are bound by the tenancy agreement, and we would be liable for the rent and the bills if we just suddenly moved out, or if replacements hadn’t been found by the time we did. However, I did also find out that the landlord wouldn’t be able to just let it stand empty for ages and not bother about getting people in- if he wanted to actually take legal action to get the money we owe him, he’d need to prove that he’d tried to mitigate his losses. Also, I was told that whatever the refurbishment situation is, it’s nothing to do with us- there’s no mention of it on the tenancy agreement, and he can’t use it as a way of making getting replacements more difficult. Basically, whatever happens there will be risks involved. What we’re going to try and do is arrange to actually set up a meeting with him, rather than the usual ‘let’s nip downstairs to the stationers and see if he’s free’ strategy which tends to be the only way of getting things to happen at the moment. We are going to attempt to negotiate, and see if we can work out some form of a compromise. It might not be possible, but it’s worth a try.

I’m not sure what my image of the average Citizen’s Advice Bureau was- and I’m still not sure, as, despite a lot of effort and running around London in the early morning, I managed to miss out on access to two seperate Bureaus. The ‘opening time’ might be listed as ten o’clock, but it turns out that people tend to queue from about seven o’clock and- rather annoyingly- it’s usually only the first twenty who get in for the entire day, because the Bureaus are so undermanned. I tried the one at Turnpike Lane on Thursday, got there at 8.50, was 28th in line, and was told at 9.20 that there was no point in hanging around. I therefore had another go at the Tottenham Bureau on Friday morning, and made a concerted effort to get there early– to no avail. I reached the place at 8.00 am, only to find a big crowd of people, and someone announcing that only the first sixteen were going to get in. So, I still haven’t actually found out anything concrete about what exactly we can do relating to the situation with our house. I think it’s the amount of time left that makes it particularly difficult- that, essentially, we’re talking about nine months of our lives here, which is not a small amount of time to be going through this kind of unpleasentness. I am, at least, looking forward to explaining this situation to somebody else, so I’ll know that it isn’t just us looking at it from the wrong angle. Finding out whether or not there’s anything we can do will definitely help, even if it’s not fantastic news.

I also got some fantastically useful feedback from Neal Asher yesterday relating to the novel. What I got was the first sixty or so pages absolutely covered in a welter of corrections and notes, almost every single one of which was truly fantastic, and some of which made me laugh. One particular- to explain, there’s a sci-fi fan newsletter called Ansible produced by writer Dave Langford, and one part of it is called ‘Thog’s Masterclass’, dealing specifically with examples of bad writing. It’s usually divided into ‘departments’, and one of the most regular ones is the ‘Dept. of Eyeballs in the Sky’, which deals with people’s eyes doing apparently impossible things. With the line ‘Her eyes shot upwards to his face’, I managed something pretty damn close, and feel strangely proud (even though I’m definitely getting rid of the thing). It’s rather annoying, as a result, that I’m bogged down with work on the Del Toro interview and a collection of reviews, as all I really want to do is get to work making the book into what it needs to be.

From maudlin to bloody annoyed in ten easy steps. Must be something in the air.

Basically, the whole situation regarding the lease on our flat has just received a couple of less-than-welcome kinks. Once again, we’re just trying to sort out if there’s a way for us to be able to move out before next June 24th without it costing us a ridiculous amount of money, but the landlord seems to be going out of his way to make life more difficult. We’ve already said that, essentially, we’d be prepared to do lots of the legwork of advertising the place, showing people around and so forth, and that we wouldn’t protest about covering bills and rent until someone new was in the flat- but now, he’s decided that he wants the flat to be refurbished before someone new moves in. Now, not only is this going to take a month (I don’t think we’d be expected to pay that- but considering the crap he’s throwing at us at the moment, I’m not sure…), but also when it happens is going to be completely dependant on whether the builders he wants to use are actually available. We might be able to move out “a month early”. Might. Then again we might not. Essentially, we could be facing a situation where we’re being held hostage to fortune purely because of whether or not he can book the builders- and how are we supposed to fill the place anyway, if it’s not going to be possible to move in for another month? I’m pissed off and annoyed, and I think I’m going to deal with the Housing Agents from now on, as I’m fed up of having to deal with this. I could handle the situation before- but this basically feels like any solution we’re coming up with that might work, he’s coming up with something to throw in our path and trip us up.

I’d say “Is anyone looking for a flat?”, but even if you were, I’m not even certain how the whole situation would work. All I know is that I’m not going to be able to cope with this until June 24th of next year- whatever we have to do to get out will be easier than the soul-death just waiting for next June would put me through. Certainly, if there’s anyone reading this who knows about tenancies or anything like that (or knows good places for info), any help would be extremely gratefully appreciated.

Right. Time to attempt to cheer myself up…

I want to be a Glass Half Full person. I’d like to be a Glass Half Full person, but ultimately, annoyingly, I’m a Glass Half Empty person. And occasionally, it’s a bit exhausting.

Last night was my belated birthday party, and while only a small number of people turned up, I did have tremendous fun- but the resulting foggy head this morning has left me wobbly and unsure, and after a week of sub-editing and boring, routine normality, I’m suddenly back in the reality of ‘Writing World’ and I think I’d forgotten that it’s a slightly intimidating and scary place to be.

Essentially- and this may sound either ridiculous or like an insane amount of dithering, but I’m not sure what to do next after finishing off The Hypernova Gambit. I feel like I need to at least work out in my head what’s going to happen, mainly because I know I could very easily drift along like an idiot not being certain of what to do, when the answer is- to be perfectly honest- getting on and doing it. I’m just finding the whole path of making the decision really difficult. Again, I’m envious of those who can write short stories, as- besides the freeform burbling on Division X- I can’t really think them up very well. Big, bold and brassy stories are where I’m most happy, it’s just the point before I dive into them that’s particularly scary.

I don’t think it helped that I finished re-reading WATCHMEN today, in my funky, re-coloured, massive slipcased edition, and I’m currently in total awe of what Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons acheived in that. The level of focus and depth and reality in it… is just breathtaking, and it leaves me thinking “Waah!” I just want to get close. I want to push myself, and get closer to where I want to be as a writer, and the only way I’m going to be able to do that is buy writing like hell, and motivating myself into that position is always so bloody difficult.

Sorry. Currently tired and irritable, and not up to blogging as extensively as I should be. I’m also finding that my Mac keyboard is actually rather tough on my fingers. I’m going to try and relax for a little while tonight, and then throw myself into the fray tomorrow. Plenty of things are going to be done tomorrow, whether I like it or not!

Talking of WATCHMEN- here’s a brief little amusement. As a set-up for any non comic-geeks reading, a few years back, Marvel superhero mastermind Stan Lee did a series for Marvel’s arch-enemy publisher DC called ‘Just Imagine’, where, in a sequence of one-shots, he’d take the basic premise of DC’s major superheroes, and give his own distinctive spin on them. So, imagine if Stan Lee’s hyper-active, hilariously melodramatic style was applied to a more adult title, dealing with politics, violence and superhero sex?

Just Imagine: Stan Lee’s WATCHMEN!

(Not all the gags work, but the ones that do are ones to treasure).

I was planning to call the Apple Support line. I was planning to maybe head into town today in order to swap the iPod Shuffle over, as the next few days weren’t going to offer many chances. And then, after having left the iPod Shuffle plugged into my computer for most of the night, I tried just turning it off and turning it on again.

Stuff started to happen. Suddenly, where before the computer had refused to even recognise that there was anything there, now, there was activity. I clicked through various screens, and then… bliss… iTunes started downloading music into the iPod at random. I disconnected the thing, plugged in the white earphones (which I am planning to swap with black ones when I go out- I’d rather not be wearing a large sign saying “Please mug me, I might be carrying a £300 iPod Video!”), pressed a few buttons- and was greeted by my first track.

“I Feel Love”, by Donna Summer.

Somehow, I think me and this little device are going to get on.

(And, just to completely freak me out, it’s just switched to ‘Rebel Without a Pause’ by Public Enemy…)

* * *

(A few minutes later. As if to underline the sheer weirdness of my music collection, it’s gone from Public Enemy to ‘Also Sprach Zarathustra’ from 2001. Words fail me as to how much I’m enjoying this…)

Back in London, and I somehow managed to survive the entirety of Saturday, only keeling over with exhaustion at 9pm, when George told me that going to bed might be a good idea as I was falling asleep during COLLATERAL. Before then, the day had- to be honest- been rather nuts, with a bus trip that was lengthy and uncomfortable, followed by a hot journey on the tube, followed by an arrival at home at 7.40am, and a hug from an extremely grateful George. I only had two hours, but I did manage to open two birthday presents- an iPod Shuffle (which is giving me a few problems getting it to talk to my computer, but we’ll crack it…), and the gorgeously massive slipcase-enclosed hardback ‘Absolute’ edition of WATCHMEN. I was a happy camper, but had to head out immediately to a hotel in the centre of London for a two-part interview with Guillermo Del Toro. Thankfully, the guy was as much of a diamond as I was hoping for, and both sections of the interview went without a hitch. I was able to slump homewards, and the rest of the day passed in a beaming haze of relief.

Today was mainly a sorting out and cleaning day, and I also discovered that despite being certain that I’d lost George’s camera, what I’d actually succeeded in doing was somehow not noticing that it was still inside the rucksack. I located it today, and was very glad that it was safe and sound, as I’d been trying to figure out a way we’d be able to financially afford replacing it.

A wander onto Neil Gaiman’s blog sent me in this rather bizarre direction, and meant that I made this rather peculiar discovery:

You learn a new thing every day…

More fascinating thoughts on Charles Stross’s blog. I’ve just started reading his fantasy series ‘The Merchant Princes’, and it’s bloody good fun, as well as being fantastically thought out. It’s great to see a traditional ‘gateway to another world’ book that’s actually tackled in the same manner and with the same rigour as a sci-fi novel, as well as being inventive and wonderfully frothy. I may not write as well as he does, but I can at least link like crazy.

Plus- here’s a video from Youtube that I was particularly glad to track down. I first spotted it at last year’s Mirrorball season at the Edinburgh Festival, and while I don’t remember the track doing anything major, it’s one of those videos that takes a very simple idea and runs with it.

Enjoy “100MPH” by El Presidente…

At some point, I’ve got to actually sit down and work on my novel- as well as working out what the hell I’m going to do next. It’s safe to say, the idea is scaring the hell out of me…

Okay- as it turned out, the last update wasn’t completely final. I’ve fitted in two more, and now my mission in Edinburgh is (for better or worse) fully accomplished:

STEPHANIE DALEY- an extremely powerful, subtly played and ultimately harrowing drama about an American teenager who may have neglectfully killed the child she says was stillborn, and how her story impacts on the pregnant Forensic Pathologist who’s called in to judge her mental competence. Tilda Swinton plays the pathologist and is her usual stunning self, while this has a lot of very interesting things to say about the approach to teen sexuality in American life.
THE FLYING SCOTSMAN- It’s a full-on real-life ‘triumph over adversity’ story, as cyclist Jonny Lee Miller constructs a super-bike from old washing machine parts, and takes on all comers as well as attempting to tackle his potentially life-threatening mental disorder. It’s all very traditionally played, but there’s some good moments in there- it just doesn’t quite manage to escape the whiff of formula.

And that’s it. Edinburgh is, for want of a better phrase, over and done with. I’ve also found out that I’ve been given an extra ten minutes with Guillermo Del Toro tomorrow, so I’ve got a total of an hour- which is both fantastic, and a bit downright intimidating. Still, in 24 hours it’ll be all over. I’ve got a few things to do, and then a meal to cook, and then it’ll be time to get on the bus, and survive the journey back down to London.

Plus, Sean Connery just wandered casually past the desk where I’m using the internet, so I think that’s a surreal enough note upon which to stop.

It’s been a weird kind of fun, and I’m looking forward to being back.

So- we’ve reached the end, and it’s been a funny few days. I’m certainly glad that tonight I’ll be hopping on the bus and heading for home, but my return has ended up rather more complicated than I’d hoped for, once again proving exactly how tiresomely complicated the world of freelance writing can be. The Guillermo Del Toro interview is still happening- but now, it’s happening on Saturday rather than Sunday. I’ve also ended up with two slots, thanks to covering it for both a magazine and an online outlet, but the end result is that my E.T.A. into London is 6am, and I’ve got to be at the hotel for the interview at 10.40am. The second one is at 2.15, and it’s going to add up to 50 minutes in Mr Del Toro’s company. It’s not fantastic, and rather frustrating, as the one thing I was looking forward to tomorrow was getting to slump in bed and not do anything- but, at the least, it’s going to be talking to a filmmaker I find genuinely interesting (and who was an absolute gem of a quote-happy motormouth last time I interviewed him) about a film that’s highly impressive. Plus, as long as all goes according to plan, I should net a healthy amount of money from this. There is, as they say, an upside to everything.

I may have succeeded in losing a digital camera- it’s George’s, and I’m certain I packed it, but somewhere between London and here, it’s gone walkabout. It’s not impossible that I ended up not packing it (after all, I did end up forgetting a towel…), but if it is gone, I’m definitely going to replace it. It’s just rather annoying, especially as I have absolutely no clue as to how it happenned. If I’m going to lose stuff, I’d rather learn a lesson from it, rather than feeling like it’s just evaporated into the air.

Yesterday morning, I climbed the hill that defeated me last time- and then found out that the path I was on didn’t lead me all the way up Arthur’s Seat. Not to be defeated, I turned back, headed down, found the correct path, and stomped all the way back up again. There, I sat for a while, enjoying the sound of the wind blowing through the grass, and felt happier than I had done for a while. It’s been tough for the second week- and I find it very easy to get depressed about a whole selection of “state of the world” issues. It’s strange, but I sometimes feel like now that I’ve passed thirty, all my hope for the future of the planet is gradually draining away, and I can’t help feeling like the human race is currently behaving like a rabbit on a motorway convinced that as long as it stares out the big, roaring, glaring thing that’s racing towards it, there’s no possible way that it can come to harm. I just can’t help feeling that I want the world to turn out to be as weird and vibrant and full of possibility as I felt when I was ten years old, and I don’t want circumstance and the potential collapse of civillisation to hammer it out of me. Being afraid of worse-case-scenarios on an hourly basis is exhausting, let me tell you, and I wish there was a better way of handling them than just ignoring them.

(Apologies for the depressive tone. I haven’t been sleeping well either- people eating crisps at 5 in the morning or snoring like a walrus have been making certain that my sleep has been fitful at best. I think it’s just been a long two weeks, and I can’t wait to be back with George.)

Okay- I might see something today, but- for the moment- this is the final movie roundup…

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE- deliciously kooky and enjoyable comedy, with a dysfunctional family on the road to get an eight-year-old to a beauty contest. Fantastic cast, and some absolutely hilarious moments, this is the model of what Hollywood movies used to be able to do, and now you’ll only find them in the studio-funded ‘indie’ sector.
COLOUR ME KUBRICK- the tale of Alan Conway, the man who pretended to be Stanley Kubrick, is a fascinating one, but this is one excrutiating mess of a movie, sloppily thrown together and meshing Kubrick in-jokes with overdone seventies-style camp humour. The fact that this features a full song-and-dance number from Jim Davidson should tell you everything you need to know.
SHOOT THE MESSENGER- a very powerful drama all about a black teacher whose determination to improve black kids’ education backfires, leading him on an odyssey of madness and racial self-hatred. It’s an angry, difficult film, but it manages to make some powerful points while telling a decent story at the same time, and there’s some fantastic performances.
THE PAGE TURNER- cool, calm and incisive French drama, as a young girl finds her dreams of being a pianist flattenned by the behaviour of a diva pianist during a music exam. Years later, she seeks out the diva and, carefully, proceeds to destroy her life. Brilliantly played, it’s a tense and carefully mounted drama that packs a serious bite.
H6- DIARY OF A SERIAL KILLER- Great. More torture horror. Playing like American Psycho (the novel) without any of the satire, this is a pretty ugly portrait of a man who decides to ‘attain immortality’ by messily murdering a series of prostitutes. Behind the veneer of Catholic guilt, there’s very little here that’s interesting- and while it’s classily shot, this is little more than ugly torture porn that’s yearning to shock because it doesn’t know how to do anything else.
THE GREAT HAPPINESS SPACE: TALE OF AN OSAKA LOVE THIEF- probably the best title in the Festival, this short but absorbing documentary is a portrait of the ‘Host bars’ you can find in Osaka, Japan, where worryingly gorgeous guys sell love, dreams and (when required) sex to whoever can afford it. One of those documentaries that starts as a fun, frothy look at an alien world, this turns unexpectedly dark, and builds to a genuinely affecting portrayal of cultural difference and the fact that in certain places in Osaka, money really can buy you happiness…
THE PRODIGY- a low budget American action thriller, this is a bizarre mixture of SEVEN and THE USUAL SUSPECTS, and if you took it purely by its dialogue or acting, this would be a clunky but occasionally effective low-grade B-movie. What pushes it into more interesting territory is the fact that it’s got some of the best-directed action sequences I’ve seen in ages, giving the film a visceral impact that it badly needs. It’s still a bit of a mess, but one with promise.
ONE FINE DAY- A sweet French comedy, all about a man ground down by the miseries of life until- unexpectedly- everything starts changing, and he doesn’t quite know how to cope with his newfound happiness. The brief musical number might be a little unwise, but this is a genuinely sweet and heartwarming movie that will send you out with a huge smile on your face.
3 DEGREES COLDER- A headscratching German relationship drama, all about the unexpected return of a woman’s ex-boyfriend after five years away, and the effect this has on the man she’s since married. It’s well shot, beautifully acted and excellently put together, but it’s also one of those films that make you think that at least twenty minutes of explanatory scenes have just been edited out at random.

Okay- I’m going to sit down, write a few more Del Toro questions, and then I’m going to do my best to have a good day.

Things may seem downcast at the moment, but I’m determined to bounce back.