Wednesday, 28 May 2014

first thing i've written in months - i'm getting a nathan barley vibe from it

Colliers Wood High Street was a world set in and around itself. Considering the slow approach of hipster culture towards all and any London-based aspect of Tube-located towns, it seemed as though the light of potential was set to descend. Colliers Wood, and its neighbours surrounding it (South Wimbledon, Morden, Tooting) inhabited a non-interest locale set when viewed through the lens of the fashionista. What good would it do, to even approach these areas? Why would anyone approach the end of the Northern Line, once Leicester Square had been dealt with? For in this day and age, the need for the now was all-pervading. When it came to high matters such as creation (such as a ‘zine, a blog, an article, a column, or a t-shirt) location was all-important. For the hipster, credible evidence was required in order to invest time and space towards any given locale.
For you see, the hipster knew what was really going on. He or she (usually he) was turned on, tuned in, and dropped out - but dropped out into a new paradigm, one which superseded the antiquated presumptions of the old. Let’s start with the obvious - the hipster wore a beard. Why did the hipster feel the need to emblazon their jaw and/or chin with an over-abundance of facial hair? Because it went against the grain. The hipster’s beard represented a protest against the demands of the everyday and humdrum workforce - the type that pervaded throughout the youth of the hipster’s parents, the type that required old notions of geniality and fastidiousness, now outweighed in favour of spontaneity and creativity (made manifest in the form of a beard, obviously).
The beard represented a return to old values, long forgotten, such as those espoused by Thoreau in his book Walden, and more recently superseded by the activities of Christopher McCandless, whose sojourn to Alaska apparently represented the apex of modern youth’s striving towards something more interesting than the banalities put forth by modern media.
Modern media - the enemy and friend of the 18-30s living in the developed world. Hard to know which it was, especially when most of those seeking to undermine the status quo use the modern media to spread their message, essentially defacing and counteracting whatever credo McLuhan might have espoused, had he bothered to espouse anything which, when looking at most of the available evidence on hand, he did not.

So there we were. Colliers Wood, and all drudgery and fantasy met together and lived out its time in bars. 

Sunday, 11 May 2014

Derailed by James Spader

I don't know what I'm doing with my life anymore, but I'll go on anyway.

Films used to be the antithesis of what was going on in television. Television in the 1970s consisted of sitcoms, and the odd drama of quality that, when looking back at it, seems somewhat quaint regarding its production (I, Claudius, for example). Television was largely designed to be light entertainment, apart from BBC 2, which to be fair had some of the most awesome shit ever put onto television...

Having just googled, I can pretty much say actually it was all retarded.

Point being, cinema in the seventies was the opposite of television. Something like Chinatown, one of the best screenplays ever, would not be half as successful nowadays; or, instead of being released in cinemas, would be written as a series. There is far more forgiveness amongst the television watching public for original series ideas driven by actors than there is for new film ideas driven by actors.

The star makes the series now, not the film. Nobody cares as much about a new film featuring Angelina Jolie or Kate Winslet as they used to care about a new Jack Nicholson film. I might be talking bollocks but I'll keep going just in case. Something like Game of Thrones: you know what sold me on it? It wasn't the swords, or the name, or anything bar seeing Sean Bean playing Boromir again. It was that simple. However, Sean Bean playing Boromir in a new film does not interest me enough to want to see it even as a pirated download, let alone in a cinema.

The format is flawed.

Mildred Pierce. House of Cards. The one with Steve Buscemi in it. The actors draw the audience, and the quality comes out later. A new USP. Series did used to have famous actors in them, sure, but not to this extent. Anyway, it's fairly obvious, everyone knows this. TV is where it's at now. The point I'm trying clumsily to make is that the feature film is no longer good enough.

If Lord of the Rings had been made into films ten years later than they were, they wouldn't have been made into films. They would have made a series out of it. And they should make a series out of it. For pure storytelling, for pure narrative, for practically seamless transition between words and pictures, the series has it down now. Fargo is now being made into a series. When the hell has that ever happened before? Ok so it has, but again it was mostly retarded stuff.

Actually, I'm just going to stop right there. Stargate. Fuck.

While I'm there, James Spader has really dead eyes.



I can't look at that picture for too long, because I can tell he's thinking something along the lines of "... when I've finished mutilating the corpse, I'm going to toss it into a bath and pour Coke all over it. Yeah. Coke. That'll do the fucking job. Acidic as fuck. And you're reading this in my voice."

Actually, he's even got a dead voice. The man's a psychopath who got lucky. A bit like Christopher Walken. Except Christopher Walken is probably a totally normal person who everyone thinks is mad because of the way he acts and talks or something.

Ah fuck I keep going away and coming back to this entry and he's just there, staring at me, with that almost smile on his face. If I keep typing eventually it'll scroll up and go away. I could always just stop typing and post but that would be counter-productive. That's what he'd want me to do.






And done. His stupid face is gone.

So yeah. This is the pinnacle of my Sunday night. Typing shit about James Spader's face. I don't even know why I bother anymore.