29 Sep 2010

"Stick it up, mister!
Hear what I say, sir, yeah...
Get your hands in the air, sir!
And you will get no hurt, mister, no no no"

As I write this I'm sitting on a National Express coach and there's one of those families on board.  You know the ones, they speak loudly and seem like they were first cousins waaaay before they were ever husband and wife.  The ones at school who had a reading age of eight... when they were sixteen.  They all look remarkably the same, all three generations are going on holiday ...to my town sadly.  The granny is busy taking photos out of the coach window on her mobile.  The noises are both switched on her phone and on her family.  She is busy taking photos of everything, a post box, a phone box, a boat of some description, a lampost with Battersea bridge in the background, Chelsea embankment, The Thames, a tree.  Presumably apart from the river she has none of these things in her town?  I haven't the heart to tell her that none of the shots will come out because she is using the flash.  It wouldn't have been very interesting anyway I'm sure but several shots of just a white square may be of interest to Yoko Ono but not normal people.
Thankfully as an intellectual barrier between myself and the family that smell of cabbage is a couple of ladies who are talking about architecture and the design of some of the buildings we pass.  I think it's a good job that dumbness isn't contagious otherwise the whole bus would be infected by the time we reach Hounslow and the two intelligent ladies would be discussing X Factor before we reached Hammersmith.  Deciding that they couldn't be heard despite them sitting next to each other they first eat some nice smelling food and then kip.  Damn my anti dumbass firewall is down.  I put my ipod antidote on and watch as we pass Hammersmith, Chiswick and join the M4 where we pass the world famous Heston Services (fuck I sound like my father who would spend hours talking about the route he would drive between North Norfolk and Bournemouth... with every junction included).  I watch as the higgeldy piggeldy rooftops turn into to trees as they flash past.  The home counties are a blur and I try to type on my netbook as we bump over the cats eyes into a different lane.  My legs are killing me, I have blisters the size of apples on my feet and sweaty socks.  It's been a rather succesful day as I didn't spend every penny I had in one go in Forbidden Planet, just some of it in Mega City Comics, Camden.  The fact that I have money left means that I don't have to spend the rest of my week off in solitude playing on the Xbox 360 and PS3... but probably will anyway.

22 Sep 2010

Keep feeling fascination
Passion burning
Love so strong
Keep feeling fascination
Looking learning
Moving on

Hello Upsetter fans (if there are any left after all this time).  Well The writing has leapt from the 'having thousands of pieces of paper everywhere' stage to the 'actually writing and shit' stage.  As we speak I'm about 10,500 words into it, what kicked my arse into gear was the fact that I bought myself a netbook (Samsung N130) for £150 on eBay.  Now every morning I get to work about an hour early and I usually write about 800 to 1,200 words before realising that I should have been on the shop floor five minutes ago, my tea has gone cold and my Crunchy Nut cornflakes have turned into mush.  So far I have killed three of my work colleagues and a dog... in the story.  The thing was I couldn't come up with names for some of the characters so as there was a couple of issues of FourFourTwo football magazine I just flicked through and amalgamated some names of footballers.  No the main character isn't called Xavi Beckham.  I'm quite chuffed that it seems to be coming along nicely and fairly easily.  I sit every morning and think "how is this going to go?"  half the time I mean the writing and half the time I mean the story.  But I just tart up the last paragraph I worked on and carry on and it just like me when I was a teenager it seems to come rather easily.
The whole zombie thing hadn't occurred to me being as I hadn't watched anything of the genre since Shaun of the dead and previous to that since Barry Talbot's house in the 1980's.  I had a dream one night of zombies attacking some people at a health farm or something like it and(spoiler alert) the army coming to the rescue.  So I wrote it down as it was such a complete and linear dream.  Now I'm writing it and I'm about a quarter of the way through (according to Steven King who reckons the novel is about 40,000+ words).  Hopefully I'd get this and the others published.  I'm going to cross genres and not just do the zombie thing though.  I have got one rule for this current story though... ZOMBIES DON'T RUN!!!!   That always gets me about the modern interpretation of the creatures is the fact that somehow the walking dead have become impatient.  They are reanimated corpses and therefore the muscles would have atrophied and in a lot of cases limbs have been broken.  The reason that there were so many victims was the fact that the survivors were often outnumbered, partially armed and not completely well balanced by some of the George A. Romero films I've since re watched.
I have however given a few nods to Shaun of the Dead.  I.E the opening scene the driver is listening to White Lines (don't do) on his iPod and he uses the phrase "How's that for fried gold" which paraphrases the line "How's that for a slice of fried gold?"  amongst others.  Amongst other things.  Anyway when I'm all big and Hollywood I won't forget you unless I'm in bed with Winona Ryder then to be honest I'd think you would the thing farthest from my mind.  

PS I may start posting music again soon

14 Sep 2010

"Sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you said
Then you say go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds"
Hello blog followers, I'm feeling nostalgic at the moment which is always a bit of a dangerous thing.  I get a bit maudlin  afterwards.  I don't miss my childhood so much as I miss the fact that I wasn't a cynical middle aged bastard  who views everyone as a potential criminal or ne'er do well, just a miserable young 'un dreaming of escape.Maybe there's more of my father in me than I admit to?  Both for being a miserable bastard and for the little bit of Policeman that's in there. Mind you I'm not totally my father because I don't have my job and my hobby were I tell people what to do, he was Policeman and local leagues football referee.  Ah well, it's my own fault really for downloading all the mp3s of old pirate radio broadcasts.  I'm trying to jolt the old memory there into thinking about ye olde tymes of my childhood in Norfolk.  I used to be clamped to Laser 558 during the day and then later I'd turn over for John peel or Annie Nightingale on a weekend.  Luckily a good proportion of the mp3s are from the period I listened intently so I should scrape away the layers of memory and go back in time.  Ugh that would be dreadful if I actually went back in a Life on Mars way. Anyway before I shudder myself to death the reason I've been listening to these files is that as well as finally writing some books and story ideas on my new netbook every morning before I start work.  I'm currently ploughing my way through the zombie story that came to me in a dream one night and I'm filling all the blanks in.  It's also got me back into watching Zombie movies and I've been also enjoying the graphic novels in the Walking Dead series.  Read them if you can they're great.  Also the reason for the nostalgia recently is due to thinking too much, in between idiot customers, about the past.  I've got the outline of a story and a few ideas jotted down in many notebooks.  It's going to be a cross between Shane Meadows' work and Son of Rambow (great movie watch it if you are an '80's child).
I want to spend some of my next pay day and or trip to that there London perhaps buying some old '80's technology.  I have folders on my pc that have photos to jog the memory (the closest I've come to jogging since the army).  It's amazing to think of things you've forgotten.  Mind you I am bidding on a Hitachi TRK-3d80E Ghetto blaster. I wasn't going to bid, but I saw it and I got over excited because I used to have one when I was younger and I got rid of it when I joined the army.  Still, if I bought every piece of consumer electronics I've had over the years I think I'd have around 32 Hi-Fis alone.  At least ten VCRs, six or seven DVD players, two DVD recorders, five or six TVs, around eight computers seven cameras and twelve or so games consoles.  Several grandstand games and/or watch & games plus god alone knows how many digital watches. I'd be skint and have a bedroom full of electronic paraphernalia that would make the Gadget Show's competition look like dog shit... but I'd be happy.  I mean why did they make an alarm clock with a radio and a TV on it in the Eighties but not today?  I had one I remember buying it from Barry after we all left school.  I recorded Top of The Pops, so I could listen to it on the way to work on my yellow waterproof walkman, (cost me £11.99 from Cromer).  I remember recording things like The Good The Bad and The Ugly and listened to it so much I could quote the list of Tuco's crimes verbatim.  It was also a great radio so John Peel got a good ol' taping as did Annie Nightingale.  One thing I never owned was a Casio VL Tone, Which usually go on eBay for around £15... I'm just saying is all.
It would be handy if ever I set up that Trio tribute band, there is a reason as this is the only German I know.  Mind you as far as I know there was only that and Get Carter by The Human League ever recorded using a VL Tone so the set list would be short.  I only ever knew one kid that had one, his father was an electrician or some such bollocks but anyway he had more money than the rest of us kids.  He was still an arse.  But then aren't we all?