Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Yesterday Ian and I fought off a barrage of flying ants, since the fabled day each summer when a swarm of ants descends upon the planet happened, and most in our kitchen, it seems. It was making it hard for us to cook, what with the ants covering our windowsill, so I applied some RAID liberally, with no respect for the accumulation of poisons in the food chain, and destroyed the ebony agents of satan. Here’s a photo. It’s pretty large, hence the link. On the same trip, I also discovered that after weeks of waiting, the potatoes I deposited at the end of the garden a few months ago have sprouted mighty potato plants. It’s pretty sad that I won’t be able to see them through to their eventual growth and removal from the ground, and maybe even consumption (though I wouldn’t eat anything planted around here) but I guess, in some way, maybe it’s a nice legacy to leave with the house. Potatoes that become moe and more unruly with each passing year.

Today I ran the musical spectrum from hip-hop to acoustic folk, having procured both the Public Enemy album, “It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back” and the Kings of Convenience album, “Riot On An Empty Street”. I’ve been after the Public Enemy album for a while, because plenty of my media heroes cite it as an influence in some manner. Whether or not they’re being genuine about that, I can’t say, but it piqued my interest enough to give it a listen. Considering it’s hip-hop, which is always hit and miss with me, it was remarkably listenable. “She Watch Channel Zero” is probably my favourite track at the moment, and not because of the title. I suspect it’s the fact that the backing track is a bit more like the kind of music I listen to, to be honest. Anyway, I’ve had a taste, so to speak, the next few weeks I can attempt to digest the album. On the other hand, the kings of convenience album is instantly accessible, mainly because it’s practically indistinguishable form their previous album. Which is no bad thing, since that was great anyway. Gloriously melancholic.

I finally saw The Hulk today. Turns out it’s actualyl quite bad. Worse than Daredevil, bad, and I consider myself quite a big fan of The Hulk character. I have to say, it’s definitely the worst Marvel film I’ve seen, from the new crop, though I haven’t seen The Punisher yet. There’s still time.

Something I haven’t mentioned which I think is quite funny, is that while Paul and Relly are on their honeymoon, Nikki and I are more or less in control of the easyworld site. I have to update a news page, should it be necessary, and Nikki moderates the messageboard. The temptation to abuse that power is quite large. I kind of think that with the source files, I could’ve figured out flash enough to update the flash news page, but I can’t blame Paul for wanting HTML updates. I certainly can’t fuck that up, where it’s entirely possible I could bring the walls of the flash site crashing to the ground. I did change the layout of the HTML page a little, though. Paul had to make it in something of a rush, so I assume he won’t mind. And if he does, I can announce his premature death on the new page. Ha!

The other day I saw the Teaser trailer for the Hitch-Hiker’s guide film. It managed to be pretty funny, but then, it was mere seconds long and didn’t have any footage from the film in, so the jury’s still out. I remember the day long past when Josh an dI were at the cinema, and we observed the Godzilla teaser trailer. We were awestruck. Then next summer, the film came out and somehow I’d have rather we just never learnt about it in the first place. Teaser trailers can set an unbeatable precedent far too early in the game.

With Hitch-Hiker’s Guide on the brain, Ian and I somehow came to be discussing the TV series. Then, we somehow came to be watching the first episode of the TV series which I have on a (legitimate) VCD that came with a DVD magazine a few years ago. We agreed on what parts were good, what parts were better in the book, and which parts were just god-awful crap that should never have been comitted to film, like the parts where actors make obvious mistakes which were apparantly so inconsequential they didn’t merit a re-shoot.

Of course, following all this discussion, it made me realise I haven’t read the books in months. Possibly over a year, though I can never be too sure. I do have a lot of free time, given how I can’t get a temp job, I’ve only applied for proper jobs, and the supermarkets won’t even give me an application form, so I’ll maybe re-read the books. I’m also quite interested in re-reading “I, Robot”, what with the Will Smith butchering about to be released, but I can’t remember if I own a copy, if I still have the anthology containing it (and Day of the Triffids, and The Demolished Man) which I borrowed off Dad about 6 or 7 years ago, or if I gave it him back. I could be wrong, but I don’t remember anyone saying “AW HELL NAW!” in the book.

This morning, Ian received a graduation information pack. It’s a surprising collection of scams. There’s a variety of crap on offer to supplement the actual graduation ceremony, including, but not limited to: A Solid Bronze Medal, engraved with our name and qualification (£35), a bottle of Champagne with our name, qualification ad university on the label (£25), a DVD (£45) or VHS (£25) of the ceremony, not to mention T-shirts and sweatshirts of some kind, presumably plastered with the word “graduate”. Can someone who has actually graduated tell me if this manner of tackiness is normal. I mean, I can understand it for, say, a Blackpool tourist shop, but surely graduations are supposed to have a little more class? We were genuinely astonished by some of the rubbish they were trying to convince you to buy. I’ll never forget the mixture of shock and horror on Ian’s face when he saw how much the Family Photo Success Pack (£150) would cost. Once we totalled up everything involved, we reasoned that a graduation ceremony with all the trimmings could well cost in excess of £350, and I suspect most of that money is going to the Uni, in one final desperate attempt to squeeze the last drops of overdraft from our bank accounts.

On the other hand, you can apparnatly get the bronze medal engraved without proof of qualifications, since you just send off the application and circle the relevant bits. James Hunt Ph.D, anyone? Most amusingly, this medallian has, on the back, a picture of Headington Hill Hall, a location I have attended precisely once in 3 years of being at University. It’s a large home, quite regal in appearance, it is apparantly only ever used to give people false expectations about the establishment. I spent most of my time at Uni in the depressing Wheatley Campus, absorbing the 70’s concrete-chic of its imposing towers. Now, a medallion with that one the back, I’d pay for.

Had a bored day more or less recovering from the country-traversing insanity of the previous 2 days. I re-read my Demo comics and wept for the genius that was Brian Wood, and made a new playlist. Ian and I watched a few cartoons and I found another job to apply for. Looks quite promising. The first one I applied for has had 300 applicants, and had almost 150 when I signed up. This one has had 6, and it’s in London, either near Forbidden Planet, or near Acton. I can’t really refuse that, even if the salary is comparatively low. I’m going to spend the next few hours manipulating my website, and I’m going to stop projecting a date for when it’ll be ready, because I keep saying things like “I’m hoping it’ll be done next week” and then I don’t touch it for god knows how long. It’ll be done when it’s done, and it’ll be good.

Okay, the reasons this entry is late are threefold:

Firstly, I don’t even remember what I did on Thursday. I don’t think it was much, but I certainly wasn’t inspired to record that particular day for posterity. I remember waking up late and feeling like I’d spent the previous day walking around London, and a general amount of aching.

Secondly, I was at Paul and Relly’s wedding yesterday, so I didn’t have the chance to do it then, for obvious reasons.

Finally, I got back to Oxford quite late today and wanted to eat.

However, I can only put this off for so long, else I’ll just end up with nothing to say. I’ll begin where the important stuff begins, on a lazy Friday morning in Oxford town. I woke up at 10, because I kind of dreaded the idea of waking up late. Given that Paul and Relly had invited me to their wedding, I felt that it’d be courteous enough for me to turn up on time. I hunted down my “smart” clothes, which avid readers will remember I bought way back just after I started this blog, for the Kraft interviews. This marks the third time I’ve employed such clothing, and the first time that wasn’t for an interview. Luckily, I didn’t look too much like a prat. I left about half 12, and went to the petrol station. First time I’ve filled my tank up in months. Probably, in fact, since the last time I drove down to Brighton. I wore a T-Shirt for the drive down, because I figured it’d stop the shirt from getting creased and sweaty. I was probably correct, because I spent an hour stuck on the M25 shuffling forward very slowly with my fans on full blast, channeling warm air into my face. At one point, I turned the fan off to see if it’d be any cooler without them, but it was hotter, and all that happened when I turned the fans back on was that it failed to revert back to the original temperature.

Once I was off the M25, it was pretty much an easy ride. I got to Hayward’s Heath about 45 minutes earlier than was necessary, which at least gave me time to change into my shirt while parked in the railway station carpark. I did it quite tastefully I thought, in a kind of “Mr. Bean putting on one piece of clothing and taking off another, without revealing any flesh to onlookers” way. I spent a short while memorising the route from the station to the venue, then set off at a leisurely pace, looking for landmarks. Unfortunately, I suspect I’ll be able to find my way there for the rest of my life now. Just a whole bunch more brain capacity I wasn’t using, I suppose. One of the directions instructed me to “Drive through a white fence” which I was looking forward to, but when I arrived there was already a gap for cars in it. It eventually turned out that the only problem I encountered on the drive was overshooting the entrance to the venue because of an annoying van. And leaving my phone in the car by accident, meaning I had to go back for it once I’d locked up.

Once I’d gone inside, I said hi to Eri and then spent a while talking to nicky and Fleur, since Nikki was off doing her bridesmaidly duties. Down at the lake, we watched a giant fish attack a slightly smaller duck. Around 4, they actually had the service. Words, or at least my words, can’t really do it justice, so I’ll just say that everyone involved seem to enjoy it. It was probably the best wedding ceremony I’ve ever been to, I can say that much for certain, and not just because it seemed shorter than any of the others. Afterwards, a load of photos got taken out in the grounds, and Nikki and I wandered around chatting with various parties until the food was ready to be served. I was sat at a table with Nicky (H), Fleur, Relly’s friend Nick, Dav and Jo. Nikki says we were clearly the worst behaved, and not just because Dav was carving a Spider-Man face into his melon starter. I’m sure Relly and Paul will understand once they receive the photos, anyway. Assuming the camera wasn’t waterlogged.

After dunner, the entertainment began. I can’t deny I was entertained, but I’ll be brutally honest and say the dancing and music part of a wedding (or any other party-based occasion) is the bit where I just sit around avoiding eye contact with anyone who might feel the need to make me get out of my seat. Luckily, there as little shortage of people to talk to. I hadn’t ever spoken to Leanne, nor had I spoken to Michelle much, so it was nice to speak with them for a bit, and I still had Nikki there whenever she needed a rest. It wasn’t at all bad though, except for when the DJ started playing 80s music. Luckily, as a counterbalance the worse songs DJed, Dav and Glenn played a few live covers, which were so good they even drew the attention of a good portion of the other wedding party there that day. Jo joined in for a couple of easyworld songs, and Paul and Glenn did a song together. Dav was saying at the dinner table how there were problems thinking up a setlist, but it seemed to turn out alright in the end. The cover of Weezer’s “no-one else” was my favourite song. They played REM’s “The one I love” which is a song that amuses me no end, because it sounds really romantic until you listen to the other lyric in the song, which is “a simple prop, to occupy my time” and that changes the meaning of the song completely.

Paul and Relly left for parts unknown (I think it’s a cruise) and thn everyone else pretty much dispersed following that. Nikki and I made our way back to Brighton, and following Glenn’s instructions, managed to get back to the flat. We had to park a few streets down, but besides that it was easy enough to get to. The cats were fed, and we watched some Sky TV until going to bed. It was the first time I’ve been to Paul and Relly’s new flat, but I doubt it’ll be the last time I sleep there, somehow. Nikki and I handed over the keys and stuff to Graham, who gets to do the house-sitting proper, and I drove Nikki up to Leamington. Because Nikki was going off to her aunt’s tonight, and I was feeling tired, I decided just to come straight back to Oxford, get some food and get some food and go to sleep. The latter of which I’m about to accomplish, but I thought I’d better do this first.

Okay, an update on the situation, since it’s both changed a lot and remained pretty much the same.

One sunny yesterday morning, Ian and I walked into Oxford town centre to poke around a few job agencies. The responses we received were less than positive, running the full spectrum of “We can’t take you on for less than 6 weeks.” to “If you wanted a job now, you should’ve signed up in May.” Hardly encouraging. After our total failure, we took in a McDonalds ice cream (Ian) and milkshake (me) to stave off the heat, and considered our next move. The one agency which was highly recommended to us was literally packed with people, being seen one at a time by a slow counter jockey. We decided that the best course of action was to come early-ish one morning, and strike then.

Today, we got the Oxford tube down to London, met up with Josh, and checked out a few letting agents. Our first problem came when we agreed with Josh to meet at Starbucks. There are apparantly no less than 5 Starbucks in Victoria, Josh was in one, I was expecting him to be at another. We did eventually convene at a third Starbucks, a small kiosk a little away from another actual starbucks. It’s getting ridiculous. Ian bought an A-Z and we decided to make our first stop Ludlow Thompson in, Acton. None of us had ever been to Acton, so we went and had a look, and it was quite nice. Nothing too bad, at least. We spoke with a helpful guy named “Dave” and he gave us the facts, and offered to show us around some properties later, so we agreed to meet him back there at 4:00.

Following this successful mission, we went to Ealing, and had a look at the various letting agents on the way up. It turns out Ealing is only a little more expensive than Acton, and we’re relatively certain it’s going to turn out to be one of the two that we choose to live in. After some walking, and Josh grabbing a remote control from his current london abode, we went back to Ludlow Thompson and were driven around in an extremely classy car which was plastered with advertising, and viewed the properties. They were both pretty good, if they are indicative of the quality we can expect for around £300 a week, we’re going to be in a great place, once we move in. We were all impressed with the professionalism of Ludlow Thompson, and especially the bright shining nirvana that was their head office. It’s like a whole new world of letting agents, and it really shows Isis Properties up as the 2-bit scam operators we suspect they might be.

After our successful mission of property viewing and informatino harvesting, we headed off to Tottenham Court Road and visited Forbidden Planet, where I made the entire week worthwhile by purchasing 2 more issues of Demo. We then took sweet merciful relief on our aching limbs, and went to the former wetherspoons pub near the Astoria, which I forget the name of. We were damn thirsty at this point, and over the course of the first 45 minutes, I managed to dirnk a pint and a half of pepsi, and I still felt I needed more. We also got meals. There was a really excellent offer on, which was “buy one meal from this range, get the cheapest free” - we decided to split the cost three ways and buy three meals, allowing us to all receive a portion of the freeness. When Ian went to pay, the guy at the till reminded him that having bought an odd number of meals from the offer menu, we were entitled to another, free, so Ian got another Tikka Masala. He and Josh split the three tikka masali between them, and I had “Cod Fingers and Chips” which turned out to be giant bricks of some really excellent cod with chips. It was well-received by us all, and not least because we were all really, really hungry, tired and thirsty. We stayed for a few hours, until the time came for us to all sod off back home. Which we did. So ended a day of walking unlike any other for some time, and with that in mind, when we go to the job agencies tomorrow, we’ll just take the bus. Assuming we can walk.

I came back from Leamington earlier this morning, after dropping Nikki at the train station, 15 minutes early for her train. At least, that was the plan. We were going to have a race up to Oxford, me in the car, her on the train. Unfortunately, I’d been here 15 minutes at least before her train even set off. In many ways, I’m sure public transport is great. Maybe they should issue some kind of pamphlet though, because I sure as hell can’t see how.

Later on, Ian and I attempted to find work. We went to the Job Shop, which was closed so they could give meetings for future students in the room. Great. After that we walked up to Tescos to see if there were any better local papers with jobs in. There was one called something like “Jobs and Careers” but it turned out to cover everywhere from Oxford to Swindon. There was on, though, at 2000ad of all places, which I’d be great for if it didn’t require one year of experience. It’s scanning and manipulating stuff in photoshop and QuarkXpress, and it’s just up the road, and it’s at a comic company. I could do it, I’d enjoy it, and yet again a lack of experience is preventing me. Fuckers. It’s kind of annoying how Jobs that plainly requite little more than a GCSE or A-Level require degrees, and jobs that probably require the bare minimum of computing experience are artificially inflated with experience to prune out those with none. I guess I’ll stick at it.

On saturday, I got stuck in traffic on the Oxford Ring Road. It took me almost an hour to go less than 6 miles, and at least doubled the length of my journey. All that because I decided to get petrol from Tescos using a voucher. They seemed to have closed one side of the ring road off for, well, no reason at all. Just to see how much toruble it’d cause. The sun was utterly beating down, and I only had the Pixies for company. I kept myself sane by trying to spot the crickets I could hear in the grass on the verge, but I scored a zero in that respect. On Sunday I had dinner at Mum’s, which was a really nice piece of beef. I ahven’t had beef for weeks, with Nan in hospital, and me totally unable to cook it, so it was doubly good to have something that was not poultry. Terry put some oil in the car because it was getting low. Apparantly if it gets too low, it will seize up, explode, and then I’ll need a new car, so I’m glad that’s been addressed, really. Hopefully that’s the capping off of the car troubles for now. Though, Dad told me to clean it.

While at Nikki’s, we watched both Phone Booth (saturday night) and The Hole (sunday night). Phone Booth I wanted to see at the cinema, but never got around to it. It’s a kind of high-concept idea that appeals to me, though I was dubious about how it would be executed. It was entertaining enough, I guess. I like the idea of a twat being forced to admit he’s a twat under threat of snipering, but that’s just the sociopath in me coming out. It was pretty funny at parts, and the ending was satisfactory enough, I suppose. I wouldn’t have bought it on DVD, and at 1 hour 15 minutes, it’s maybe a bit too short for the cinema. I’m not sure how much longer you could stretch the concept out, I think it’s about the right length, but I’d be annoyed if I paid a fiver for it. When someone else has paid, however, I can say it’s a film worth watching at least once. Even if it was directed by Joel “Bat-Nipples” Schumacher.

The night after, we watched “Hole” because it was on. I do have it on DVD, but it’s been a while since I’ve watched it. Again, I probably only like it because all the annoying normal characters die, and the total lunatic comes out on top, but any film where Thora Birch acts like a psychopath is good watching for me. It reminded me I should maybe buy Ghost World, if not for the nutcasery then for the indie comics credibility I so desperately need. I plan to watch the director’s commentary for hole at some point soon, becuase it occurs to me I haven’t yet. The front of the DVD lists “Thora Birch” and “Desmond Harrington” on the front as the main actors. Sorry? Kiera who? I expect Des can kiss goodbye to his leading credit if that cover gets reissued.

Today, while eating, Ian suggested we watch Van Helsing, which he had downloaded. For a time I was considering going to see this at the cinema, but then it looked shit, so I didn’t. However, without anything better to watch, we put it on. Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t pay to see it. It’s by far the worst film I’ve seen since I watched Anaconda the other week at Nikki’s. What a fucking turkey. As Dave put it, their idea of a plot thread runs exactly: “We have a past, you and I. A mysterious and dark past you have yearned to know about since you were found, amnesiac some decades ago.” “Some things are better left forgotten.” No-one finds out what this mysterious haunting past is, least of all the audience, besides the barest hints. That’s not a satisfying resolution, though I suspect it’s because they had sequelmania, or even Trilogitis. The romantic subplot is just a really bad excuse for one, too. Kate Beckinsale was the only thing worth watching in the film, even if she was playing a generic ass-kicking female, she did a slight amount of verbal sparring with Hugh Jackman’s character, but then about 9/10 through the film they remember she was probably supposed to be the romantic interest for the plot, have her kiss the main character, and then promptly drop dead the next time she sneezes. It really is embarassing to watch. “Here is a sunlight grenade. I don’t know what it’s for, but take it, it could be useful. What’s that you say? Fighting vampires? Yes, I have no idea what a sunlight grenade might be good for.” <- paraphrased. The IMDB page is full of people saying "hey, chill out, enjoy the ride, it's not supposed to be good, it's a summer action popcorn flick." like that somehow excuses it. I identify with the person who claims that it's only a popcorn flick if you drive the popcorn into your eyeballs until they crush and bleed, allowing you sweet release from the film.

Tonight Ian and I went up to see Spider-Man 2, since these days there’s very little to do around the house. I was waiting to see if Nikki wanted to go this weekend, but since she didn’t, we just went up today. It’s good. I don’t think it’s as much better than X-Men 1 as X-Men 2 was, but it’s pretty high up there. At least the equal of Spider-Man 1. My main problem with it was that the part in which (spoilers ahead) he has quit being spider-man lasts just a little too long. It’s not like it was going to last. The start is fantastic, and the ending is also great, even if I did have trouble holding back the nausea during the “new york solidarity” scene which occurs at the end of probably the best action sequence in any marvel film so far, when Spider-Man is fighting Octavius on a moving train. My predictions for Spider-Man 3 involve the bringing in some underlings for the main villain (it’s pretty obvious who that’ll be, given the end of this film) in the form of the Rhino or Lizard, perhaps. I don’t expect they’ll go with Venom for a while. I liked the increased roles for JJJ, Betty Brant and the like, but I don’t have a clue what Peter’s landlord’s daughter was supposed to be doing there. I thought it might be Gwen Stacy, somehow, but it doesn’t appear so. Biggest nitpick of the film? I’m no physicist, but can you really stop a fusion reaction by dumping it underwater? I dunno. Either that, or just why was he losing his powers anyway? Psychosomatic short sightedness? That’s a pretty strange explanation. All good besides those two things, though. The script and action were both improved. That Raimi is one funny guy. I worry for who might take over actually. If it’s someone like Spielberg, I might just have to go on a killing spree. Also, can someone fire Danny Elfman? It’s bad enough that he made the Batman and Spider-Man theme tunes practically identical (damn hack) but I swear to god, the music for Spider-man 2 was all taken from Spider-Man 1. His music really irritated me, especially throughout the otherwise excellent credits sequence.

Anyway, just to keep the leaderboard updated:

Spider-Man
X-Men 2
Spider-Man 2
X-Men
Daredevil

At some point I’ll update that list with Hulk (which I didn’t see at the time because no-one wanted to go) and The Punisher (which I don’t actually intend to see, but from the trailer, you can just tell it blows goats.) Let’s be fair. Spider-Man 2 was nothing new, and I didn’t come out of it with the same “Wow, that was great” factor of X-Men 2. Maybe it was because Spider-Man 1 was much better than X-Men 1 and my expectations for improvements were unmeetable. It’s a hard choice, since there was a lot of decent story in Spider-Man 2. I’ll maybe revise this when I can watch Spider-Man 2 a few more times. I’d also like to state for the record that I really liked Daredevil, and it’s just that the other films are such good quality which makes me place Daredevil at the bottom.

On a similar note, we saw the trailer for Catwoman. By god, it looks dire. I mean really, really dire. The trailer didn’t actually give away any plot, and we have forumlated the theory that they don’t actually have a plot yet, just a bunch of actionshots and some dialogue which they have to rearrange to create a plot. There was also this one film… I was watching the trailer and thinking “hey, this looks just like that horrible Anaconda film I watched the other week.” I was about to lean over and say that to Ian, when the title popped up: ANACONDAS. Now there’s a masterpiece that was just crying out for a sequel. Some films just don’t need to be made.

We walked to town, given how our bus passes had just run out. We watched Spider-Man 1 with dinner, since Ian has never seen a decent quality version of it, and then we packed up and headed off. We took about 15-20 minutes to walk there, but bizarrely only 12 to get back. I think it’s because going there it’s slightly uphill. This was the second time I’d walked around St. Clements today, because earlier we went to get comics (Jim Mahfood and some other guys in a comic called “Bad Ideas” and this week’s Brian Bendis comic, “The Pulse”) and we walked into a local newsagents to see what sort of job magazines existed for the area. The local papers were no help, but we managed to find a Friday Ad (mentioned recently) and the fact it existed in Oxford proved my status as a crazy northerner, I guess. However, the job section was, er, not good. It was 3/4 of a page in size, and contain: about 19 “Advertise your job vacancies in the Friday-Ad!” adverts, 2 adverts to become Avon distributors, 2 work from home scams (and 2 advice boxes to tell you not to send money to work from home scams,) 1 to become a Friday Ad rep, and 1 actual “job” which wasn’t really a job so much as a “chat-line operator” Frankly, I don’t think the world is ready for me to be operating phone sex lines.

Well, after all that success, I’ve now got a cold. Chalk one up for over-stressed immune systems, or something. I suspect it was more going out in public for the first time in weeks, because Tom, Ian and I all got it on pretty much the same day, even though I was halfway up the country. I’m unofficially chalking this one up to the 3CR gig in Oxford, though part of me would like to blame my temptation of fate when I said to the others “Hey, we haven’t been ill at all this term.” It’s not a debilitating illness, yet.

Anyway, after getting the results, and having had the car repaired on the same day, we (that is, me, Nikki, Josh, Nikki’s Sister Jo and Sam’s Ex Jo) went to the other 3CR gig, in Stratford. The setlist was a little different to Oxford, and still good. Cox’s Yard is an odd venue. It appears to be modelled after a barn of some kind. It’s probably a good job there wasn’t really a mosh pit at the gig, because I don’t trust the tindersticks it’s built with to hold one. Josh conceded that Bitch Alert were actually alright, and I quite liked Hollywood ending, so all in all it was an adequate gig. 3 K’s, if you’re a Kerrang fan.

Life hasn’t really changed since I got a degree. Well, except for the illness. Everyone I know passed their degrees and/or exams, so everyone can give themselves a giant collective pat on their monsterously huge collective back. Satisfying stuff. I’m at kind of a loss with what to do with the days, so Ian and I end up watching a good 2 hours or so of cartoons a day. I did, however, download the Joey pilot earlier, and watched it. It’s a full episode’s length, though I suspect the actual pilot shown on TV might be a re-worked version of this plot, perhaps. The theme tune, such that it can be called a tune, is awful, but the jokes are about of equal quality to the last series of friends. At least, the better episodes. It’s not nearly as awful as it could’ve been. The setup is a little, er, blatantly formulaic, but that can be forgiven if the jokes are good. The main problem with it is that the actresses who play Joey’s sister and agent are just unwatchably annoying. I guess it’ll do as a replacement for Friends, but only because I have really low standards these days. I also managed to find some high quality Daria rips which should offset the worse TV I allow myself to watch.

Speaking of which, is Big Brother even going? It feels good to have totally missed out on it this year. It was so easy, too, all I had to do was avoid the TV and all newspapers for the last month.

Since this is a pretty insubstantial entry, motivated by my utter lack of event over the past day or two, I’m going to share with anyone reading this, a webcomic I found which is totally progressive. It’ll be in a nice little script I’ll be inventing for my new site wherein each day a box tells you what sites have been updated (or rather, tells me so I remember to visit and see what’s new) based on what day it is. Friday’s link will be A Softer World. My theory on what makes A Softer World such a great webcmic is that the narration and image are only loosely connected, and most of the context to tie them together is invented by the reader. It’s a real experiment with the form, I’ll give it that much, and though it can occasionally seem a bit art-student, it’s also got some damn funny stuff. It’s about equal parts surreal, sarcastic and melancholy. Also, it’s free, which is a cost we can all afford. Especially me.

Thank fuck. I passed, and as I expected, I got a 2:2. I got a stack of Bs for this term’s work, actually some of my highest Bs this year, and that includes my dissertation grade as well. Tom and Ian passed too, so everything’s great on that front. If we sorry band of three can get degrees, then the rest of you have no excuse.

The upshot of graduating? Our Brookes Bus Passes are now invalid. Tonight, there’s a 3CR gig to celebrate, then in the morning it’s back to my life of abject poverty. At least the past three years actually amounted to something for us all.

I’ll say it once, and then we can forget the whole experience ever occurred:

James Hunt, BSc

In 12 hours, I should have my final term’s results. It’s all little more than academic at this point (har) since I doubt what the results actually are will change my plans. If I fail, I guess I might do another term or resubmit coursework to sort it out, but I dunno. I’m not really sure at this point. I don’t really expect to fail, but I’ll be honest, it is (at least in my mind) a real possibility. Mainly because I don’t know what my dissertation got, and I don’t have anything resembling a point of comparison. Well, that’s not true, I’ve definitely got more marks than I would’ve had I handed in, say, a stack of blank sheets. Go me. To be honest, the more I think about it, the worse I feel like I’ve done.

Still, looking good for passing e-Business. If I don’t pass that, I’ll be pretty astonished, so it’s not all confidence-undermining and silent screams. I just keep thinking though, the result is out there, on the system, and for all I know it’s just the damn system clock keeping me from it. The fate of my degree could almost have been decided weeks ago by the dissertation for which we have received zero feedback.

Ah well, just thought I’d weigh in with the briefest of thoughts on this horribly important matter which pretty much affects no-one else. I’d really be lying if I said this was at the top of my list of concerns, because my lack of money and/or job is pressing hardest there. I may just have to throw myself into job finding this week and not stop until I find something. At this point, I almost feel like I could do telemarketing. I haven’t reached the “okay, I’ll apply to be a bartender” stage yet, but how far can it be?

Well, anyway. I’m looking forward to tomorrow if only because it ends the horrible period of waiting. Talk about a load off.

This last weekend I’ve been running around like something of a headless chicken, visiting people, dropping other people off, it’s at least keeping my mind off the crushing financial situation. Cliff Richard played at the castle and I was bemused by the streets full of hunched up shambling old people converging there. I thought it looked at lot like (Original) Dawn of the Dead or other Zombie-based hilarity. I told Dad about the old people earlier today and he said “What, people my age?” That’ll teach me. After visiting Nan at the hospital, I returned to Nikki’s to an excellent Sunday Dinner, which cheered me up, even if I wasn’t exactly melancholy to begin with. I never really saw how it could be true, but I admit: Food tastes better when someone else has cooked it. Someone get the scientists working on that one. Sensory saturation, perhaps? Does that concept exist?

Also, while I’m thinking about it, Sport Relief was painful to watch and I’d rather gouge out my eyes that donate to something which bases its entire financial model on middle class guilt. When the BBC starts campaigning to write off third world debt, then I’ll give a shit. On the other hand, at least Sport relief is taking money off people who watch sport, my least favourite of sweeping generalisational groups. That, and it was funny to watch Sid Owen get punched repeatedly in the face. There’s an idea, “Comic Sport Relief,” where our least favourite comics and actors are lined up, and footballs are kicked at their heads, much to the audience’s relief.

Hmm. Maybe I should get a paypal link. Student Relief, anyone? :-\