June 24th, 2003

2020 lack of vision

nice weather this weekend

back after the weekend, tipping out my Palm Pilot ...

peaceful on Oxford Street this Saturday! I suppose everyone was at home with Harry Potter. Thankyou, JK, for Selfridges almost empty and full of lovely things ... Lamps fringed with peacock feathers, books about the cultural significance of comics, monsterisms, limited edition Jamie Hewlett prints, plastic lights shaped like bowling pins that turn off when you knock them over ... almost away without spending any money (shops just museums, galleries with a different forcus) but found a proper Muji (rather than a clothes shop) and fell prey to pretty stationary. Cardboard speakers. A very small fork.

Shopping plan: Selfridges. Playlounge. Photographers Gallery. Coco de Mer. Gosh. Forbidden Planet. Big Oxford Street Virgin megastore.

I need new jeans. This pair are begining to wear through at the knee. They're also covered in grass stains, brick dust, cherry tree mould, gin, Bev's burnt hair, lots of wine, sweat, London rain, salt off the peanuts, coffee and some weird syrup made from Swedish berries (went great with gin!). Celebrated midsummer, though. Fire, wine and fun. And a miniature henge made from barbecue bricks. And lights and music. And people... (this is about a party at mzdt's, but I think his post about it is friends-only)

Does the woman playing Queen Elizabeth in the all-female Richard III look more like a man in drag than the man playing the Queen in the all-male Richard II? Or is it just the shocking transformation from woeful grey-glad Anne to happy red-garbed Elizabeth? (and the audience gasping when they kiss is not a sound you want to miss ...)

I want some magnetic paint (but will it damage memories?)

How do we know the consequences of violating the normality assumption?

experimenting with joined-up drinking
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2020 lack of vision

catching up on the films (Secretary, Sticky Fingers of Time)

What I was really aware of when watching Secretary was obscenity rules. Awkward angles, nasty, unnatural poses, carefully calculated clothing levels ... I found myself respecting Cronenberg more and more as the film progressed, the Director who can shoot a sex scene so un/natural you never notice you're missing two tits and a set of bits. And poor old James Spader -- while I'm aware the focus was supposed to be her, the total lack of interest in (making) him (look good) just grated. Not that I didn't enjoy it at all, it was quite fun, like a smutty joke in rather poor taste; you laugh, but you're kind of embarassed; and not just because you're watching big-screen spanking.

Oh yeah, Collapse )

I also watched through The Sticky Fingers of Time. Turns out the people who were telling me it was about atomic time-travelling lesbians were not telling the entire truth. It's actually about atomic time-travelling noir-talking bisexuals caught in a time-slipped love/murder quadrangle with a dangerous future femme-fatale who keeps a brain-dead librarian in her basement and has a fully prehensile tail (even has extra chakras!). And, apart from one single pet peeve of mine (which should not interfere with anyone else's viewing pleasure) it was really quite fine. Atomic paranoia! Pah! This had dental paranoia!
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