but I'm going to anyway
Saturday, 18 August 2012
The Premier League will be boycotted this season. It’s too painful to watch. All those young men achieving more than their dreams could have ever beheld, blasting goals in before thousands of cheering fans on a sparkling and cool Saturday afternoon, the false idols of millions more. And what are we doing? Watching them on the sofa—providing we have Sky TV, who split the games over the whole weekend. Not so bad if you are in a pub, throwing pints at the screen with the rest of the mob when you get beat in the last minute.
No more Match of the Day. Not even early on a Sunday morning. No more listening to the pundits and managers and presenters talking the hind legs off a donkey all day and all night. They never stop babbling, as if football is a science. “We’re gunna try and win the game and that’s it,” they should say, because that’s all that NEEDS saying. But instead they show us endless replays and tactical discussions between ball bags sat on a couch. Do one, Football Focus! And the analysis...oh heavens above, the analysis. Just move on with the next programme. Commentators, hush the f**k down and let me make my own mind up instead of telling me what I just saw with my own eyes in your overexcited spunky-pants voice.
This is quite touchy because just like you most probably, football is a first love. You’re STRANGE if you don’t like football. We grew up playing it. It’s what kids do. The operative word being PLAYING. Not bloody watching it 24/7. A line must be drawn. No more WATCHING football. Time-wasting issues are bad enough as it is. That’s why Sky TV in the home would be a stab in the face against all things creative, personally, and most especially the pursuit of writing masterpieces. Too distracting.
There will be exceptions, of course. Big FA Cup games and Big Champions League games on normal telly (don't even mention England until Rio 2014). The odd one. And that is all. But that is nothing really, if you watch regular league clashes multiple times a week. These ninety minutes add up you know. They’ll tell you that EVERY game is a big crunch game, even though the season has barely started. Well guess what? They ain’t big games. The league is a long arse haul over months and months full of overpaid ball bags we don’t recognise any more. Not to mention the Spanish and Italian games on Sky Sports Anytime+2 in RealD 3D HD.
If you go to the games, good for you. If you do the opposite of what is outlined here on a comfy armchair with a high-spec TV, then good for you again. It is thoroughly enjoyable, there’s no disputing that. It’s a religion in England, it most sincerely is. But that’s the point really. There’s only so much worship a man can allow himself...
Enjoy. ATD will be there occasionally, but only in the final rounds of the pivotal cup games. That’s the plan, anyway. Let you know how it goes.
Thursday, 16 August 2012
WANNA SPIT RAPS BUT ME VOICE IS GASH
WANNA A NICE MIC BUT IS GOT NO CASH
HEAR SLIM SHADY AND GETS INSPIRED
GOT A GOOD VOCAB BUT ALWAYS WIRED
NEED A BREAK, A BREAK FROM THE BEAK
NEED TO MAN-UP DO PUSH-UPS, PROTEIN, EAT
MIND MUSCLE MONEY OR MIND MUSCLE MALIBU?
NAH LIQUEURS MY TIPPLE, WILL STILL HAMMER YOU
another hypnogogic texture
Monday, 13 August 2012
Okay, so you put a ten second shift in and prance about for ten minutes as if you’ve saved the world. Oh forgive, you did a twenty second shift as well. Although saying that, wasn’t it a surprise to see him win? I mean, who could have pictured that happening? It was like, so surprising. Imagine what the bookies odds were for such an outsider coming in?
But seriously, when will the others be allowed to have a head start against this guy? Is there a less encouraging sight in world sport than seeing Saddamn Usain Bolt EASING OFF with 80 metres to go in the two hundred? The others are sprinting, but he’s only jogging. That's like Barcelona playing the second half of all their games in rigger boots. For the love of money, let’s get this dude a separate track of his own with a motorized bunny and a world record clock and have the others take part in a fair race for god sakes. He’s only the best because he has the longest legs, and you can take that to the bank. If you think it's any other reason, you're mistaken.
It’s no fun to watch him practically stroll across the finish line every time. It was much better to see Michael Johnson blast around the bend in that funny upright way of running he had. And he demolished the opposition fairly, with normal sized legs.
Plus, Bolt, stop ripping off a body building pose and doing it wrong. And isn't it just too much of a coincidence that the fastest person ever is called Bolt? A bit like Carmelita Jeter, for example. Allyson Felix is the best, I guess. She doesn't run...she glides.
Thursday, 2 August 2012
I imagine it feels great for a known author to take part in a Q&A session from fans. (The word fans here is used very sarcastically. When you hear a pop star use the word fans, you get the feeling you could easily substitute that word for lemmings. Take followers on Tweeter, for example. Sounds wrong, somehow. Supporters is a bit better.) You have to wonder, how genuine are all those blithering idiots? Of twenty-odd million followers, how many of them would stop their idol on the street to congratulate them on a job well done? It doesn't count if you are with your friends taking pictures and autographs. That's pack mentality. Take screaming tweens, for example. ATD always poses the question: If a young girl is alone, and she sees her hero, does she still scream, as if she is with all her friends? Wouldn't that be funny, and weird? ATD remembers once how he approached a Hollyoaks actress outside a coffee shop and told her how touching her TV relationship was with a pupil, how it kept his own school days in his thoughts. None of this can I have a picture crap so I can post it on MyFace. ATD prefers genuine one2ones. A quick word, and let them get on with it. Let them know, and that's it.
These things take time, and a hard part of the understanding is that you will probably never finish all you set out to do, because the work of an artist is never done. The aim must be then to simply finish what one can. Prioritising can be tricky though. Just like, say, if you are an athlete, you might work on your weaknesses first in your training routine. But what about your strengths? Do you let them slip? Do what you mean to do first. Like FIRST THING IN THE MORNING! Last thing at night is no good at all. Brushing teeth is a hard enough challenge last thing at night.
Any-old-way, about questions and answers from people who have read your work. IT FEELS GOOD. After half a life shelving manuscripts in secret, ATD has experienced just a teeny tiny tad of what it feels like. Not all of it good, granted, but it's kinda like publicity, in a way—no such thing as bad. When you hear one of your characters being mentioned as if they are a real person, you can't help but smile. It's like recalling with fondness the memory of an old friend. BUT YOU HAVE TO HAND YOUR STUFF OVER FIRST. And that can be hard, especially if it's an experimental effort full of issues and controversy. Your spirit is etched between the lines of whatever you write. Warts n all.
|HUGH STODDART'S prison magazine Not Shut Up|
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
What's you favourite line is this scene? To all the writers and performers, please take a bow. You just made the top of Piebald77's Special Inspiration list. British comical horror at it's finest. Never known so many witty one-liners in such a small space of time.
The fact that one is merely thinking about doing daily word count blog updates is a good thing, although not quite likely enough to promise. The grind of keying-up just a few more pages of small print is choking now. Would be easier with a pint of Pernod and Coca-Cola, but to the best of my knowledge, at the moment, that ain't about to happen. Alcohol loosens the tongue and fingertips, but very soon it clouds the mind, and the line between enriched carefree prose and misspelled fudge is a delicate one. To be honest, it is almost time to work on SCHMOE now, fiction for weightlifters and gym goers. That comes quick and easy and is a laugh from the get go. It's for a community, it's a social endeavour, it's quirky and bombastic (what does bombastic mean?). It's Art Till Death's BEST CHANCE of being known. Oh yeah, you better believe. Many many others are writing novels (although not memorable masterpieces), but far far fewer are writing specialised non-pervy gym fiction. That, ladies and hippos, is ATD's meal ticket. And by meal ticket, he means publicity trick, not food. Nothing is for nothing, supposedly, but isn't the UNIVERSE the ultimate free lunch? Has anybody got any Snickers ice creams? Or Hubba-Bubba melted on Hot Cross Buns?