An Entry So Wild And Untamed, No Title Is Brave Enough To Take It On
The French called it the "hot and cold shower" - though obviously they did that in French, which I can't speak. It was a reference to the purposely disjointed house style of their infamous Grand Guignol theatre, which staged an almost random selection of bawdy farces and gruesome tragedies in an effort to shock and startle the audience. I found this out, incidentally, from a piece in that theatrical journal of note Doctor Who Magazine, which referenced the "hot and cold shower" as an introduction to that classic of the Grand Guignol genre, Revelation of the Daleks.
In deference to the day I've just had, I shall present my journal entry for today as a string of anecdotes and short essays with no connecting tissue other than their occurence on the same day and their extreme happy/sad nature.
"Why don't you take the dog out?" said mum. "It's raining quite heavily, so don't take her far."
The new issue of Fortean Times is a lengthy and superlative cryptozoology special, chasing up The Beasts That Hide From Man with an enthusiasm that can only be borne out of the astonishing array of recent cryptozoological discoveries. Better yet, they run a negative review of Serenity on DVD and promise Cybermen in their next issue!
On the way home, I reflected glumly that the horror genre is dead. A geek show is not in and of itself a good horror movie. Films like Slither and Hostel just look like Jackass with prosthetics, just filling out the time in between bursts of gore. Some would say that's always been a good description of horror movies. Well, yes, it has always been a good description of bad horror movies. Can you imagine something like The Wicker Man or The Company of Wolves being made now? Films with subtext, intelligence, character, imagination, vision and something to say beyond "hur hur, look how many old John Carpenter movies I can reference within the space of ninety minutes"? I sure as hell can't.
It was the directors that made horror, and it's the directors who are now killing it. People like Eli Roth and James Gunn just nudge you in the ribs over and over again, showing off their horror fandom in their movies. They want you to know that the director of this movie is a fanboy just like you. Watching Audition or Night of the Living Dead, you feel like the director is a madman who's out of control! Watching Cabin Fever or House of 1000 Corpses, you feel like the director is saying to you "I'm mad, aren't I? Yeah! Mental, I am! Ooh, they should have me locked up, I'm so gosh-darned crazy!" Is there any less edifying experience than spending ninety minutes in the company of someone like that?
Julia was not at work today. Faisal was, though. I still blame Michael and Faisal for pushing her into thinking too much about her crisis-hit relationship, just so they could have some hopefully smutty gossip about her to beat off over. My intentions obviously aren't stratospherically higher, it's just that my methods are less effective. I think she'll forgive them, because they're fun. I think she sees me as much of a muchness with them, and I wonder if she'll forgive me for asking her so insistently what was wrong. I don't blame her if she doesn't.
It's a common wisdom that hating someone makes you hate yourself. Fortunately, I hate myself already, so I can bile away at Faisal without regrets.
Yesterday, I got horrible news - there was a tribunal coming up that I'd completely forgotten about and as such was completely unprepared for. I called my client in today, fulsomely apologizing for my incompetence, and ran through all the ins and outs of her case as fast as I could, drenched in nervous sweat. I went out to that tribunal feeling less confident of my abilities as a legal representative than I ever have before. I came back with the best result I've ever got - three years of higher rate Disability Living Allowance (Care Component). I aced it.
Leona got some bad news today. For the first time I can remember, I saw her cry. Michael and Faisal, needless to say, got the scoop as soon as possible with their mix of gossipiness and insensitivity. Here's a thing - even though none of us really have a right to know what's going on with Leona, when they found out, they still whispered it amongst themselves while I was in the room, as if I wasn't worthy of knowing what had happened and they were. I hope that the endless Chinese whispers has distorted the eventual message I got beyond recognition. If not, Leona's boyfriend is dead.
Two quotes from Alan Moore on The Culture Show this evening.
"In the real world, [having your parents killed in front of you] would necessitate therapy and cause a lifetime of emotional issues. It would not result in bat-themed vigilantism."
"I did things in these books that is only possible in graphic literature, so why can't people simply let them be that? Or if they must make films out of them, at least start making better ones."
In deference to the day I've just had, I shall present my journal entry for today as a string of anecdotes and short essays with no connecting tissue other than their occurence on the same day and their extreme happy/sad nature.
"Why don't you take the dog out?" said mum. "It's raining quite heavily, so don't take her far."
The new issue of Fortean Times is a lengthy and superlative cryptozoology special, chasing up The Beasts That Hide From Man with an enthusiasm that can only be borne out of the astonishing array of recent cryptozoological discoveries. Better yet, they run a negative review of Serenity on DVD and promise Cybermen in their next issue!
On the way home, I reflected glumly that the horror genre is dead. A geek show is not in and of itself a good horror movie. Films like Slither and Hostel just look like Jackass with prosthetics, just filling out the time in between bursts of gore. Some would say that's always been a good description of horror movies. Well, yes, it has always been a good description of bad horror movies. Can you imagine something like The Wicker Man or The Company of Wolves being made now? Films with subtext, intelligence, character, imagination, vision and something to say beyond "hur hur, look how many old John Carpenter movies I can reference within the space of ninety minutes"? I sure as hell can't.
It was the directors that made horror, and it's the directors who are now killing it. People like Eli Roth and James Gunn just nudge you in the ribs over and over again, showing off their horror fandom in their movies. They want you to know that the director of this movie is a fanboy just like you. Watching Audition or Night of the Living Dead, you feel like the director is a madman who's out of control! Watching Cabin Fever or House of 1000 Corpses, you feel like the director is saying to you "I'm mad, aren't I? Yeah! Mental, I am! Ooh, they should have me locked up, I'm so gosh-darned crazy!" Is there any less edifying experience than spending ninety minutes in the company of someone like that?
Julia was not at work today. Faisal was, though. I still blame Michael and Faisal for pushing her into thinking too much about her crisis-hit relationship, just so they could have some hopefully smutty gossip about her to beat off over. My intentions obviously aren't stratospherically higher, it's just that my methods are less effective. I think she'll forgive them, because they're fun. I think she sees me as much of a muchness with them, and I wonder if she'll forgive me for asking her so insistently what was wrong. I don't blame her if she doesn't.
It's a common wisdom that hating someone makes you hate yourself. Fortunately, I hate myself already, so I can bile away at Faisal without regrets.
Yesterday, I got horrible news - there was a tribunal coming up that I'd completely forgotten about and as such was completely unprepared for. I called my client in today, fulsomely apologizing for my incompetence, and ran through all the ins and outs of her case as fast as I could, drenched in nervous sweat. I went out to that tribunal feeling less confident of my abilities as a legal representative than I ever have before. I came back with the best result I've ever got - three years of higher rate Disability Living Allowance (Care Component). I aced it.
Leona got some bad news today. For the first time I can remember, I saw her cry. Michael and Faisal, needless to say, got the scoop as soon as possible with their mix of gossipiness and insensitivity. Here's a thing - even though none of us really have a right to know what's going on with Leona, when they found out, they still whispered it amongst themselves while I was in the room, as if I wasn't worthy of knowing what had happened and they were. I hope that the endless Chinese whispers has distorted the eventual message I got beyond recognition. If not, Leona's boyfriend is dead.
Two quotes from Alan Moore on The Culture Show this evening.
"In the real world, [having your parents killed in front of you] would necessitate therapy and cause a lifetime of emotional issues. It would not result in bat-themed vigilantism."
"I did things in these books that is only possible in graphic literature, so why can't people simply let them be that? Or if they must make films out of them, at least start making better ones."