Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Very little excitement over the last few days, though we did discover the terrible secret of what that odd smell was in the kitchen. It’s so horrendous I’m not sure I can even relate it, though it’s far more horrendous if you’re Ian, because he’s the guy who ended up clearing out the cause in question.

Let’s just say that if we ever set mouse traps in a non-obvious location again, we will remember to check them.

On Friday after work we met Seb at the train station after he’d spent the day wandering Ealing looking for accommodation, and then came back here for food and stuff. We watched Jay and Bob Strike Back, which is something I’ve been looking to make time for as a sort of Clerks 2 precursor, and while it’s quite a weak film overall, there are still some hilarious bits. I say “film” - it’s more like a 2 hour in-joke dressed up as a more traditional stoner road-trip comedy, but then if you like Kevin Smith you can’t fail to enjoy it. Next on my list of films to re-watch is Tail Lights Fade, which has only minimal Kevin Smith connections but should still be worth the £3 I paid for it.

On Saturday, Seb found himself a place and he and Cappsy came over afterwards for a bit, and it appears that Seb will be here in 2 weeks, which will increase the amount of people I know in Ealing by quite a large percentage. I also went ahead and bought Lost at Sea from Amazon, which is the Brian O’Malley book I’ve failed to find even at Gosh!, but I was only buying it because I discovered Pinky and the Brain is out on DVD and I had to buy that before I gave it further thought.

As if that wasn’t enough, today Nikki and I went to HMV and I spent my £20 HMV voucher which I won from doing the Metro’s Urban Life Survey. I wanted to spend it on a box-set of TV episodes, because  it gives far greater long-term value. After some deliberation, I got  Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman: Season 1, because for about the last 3 months (spurred on by Superman Returns) I’ve been talking about how horrendously it failed to capture the essence of the characters. And, of course, being a total nerd, that’s made me want to watch it. We’ve only gone through the first half of the incredibly long feature-length episode that starts the series, but I was not disappointed. Dean Cain’s version of Superman/Clark Kent has all the smug air of a date rapist, a man who knows he’s wrong but is so powerful he can afford to be. I keep expecting him to say something like “Who would they believe, Lois? You’re just some hysterical woman, and I’m fucking SUPERMAN! Now, pick up your clothes, cover yourself up and stop crying for god’s sake.”

I also bought the Battlestar Galactica miniseries because I’ve been putting it off for so long. Sometimes it concerns me that my life is becoming an endless string of pop-culture purchases, so I might limit my CD/DVD/Book/Game purchases for the month of August to one a week for the month of August and see how it goes. I’m just building up a backlog of stuff I don’t even have time for, and really it’s a good time to save money for the inevitable day when we move out of here, which at this point is just under 2 months away.

Just before going to bed on Sunday, Dave informed us that he was going to be in Camden for one night only, since there was a Scottish Bands night at the Camden Underworld. Since we’ve been speaking to Dave online for like 7 years, but haven’t ever needed to go to Paisley, it seemed like the ideal time to go meet him.

I left work a few minutes early and went to meet Josh, Sam and Lorna at Gosh comics, which I discovered is far, far closer to where I work than I previously thought. And they have all three volumes of Scott Pilgrim. And the first one is signed. That’ll teach me to go buying shit off Amazon without checking ALL the local comic shops.

Josh and I then went up to Camden to meet Dave. When we got to the Underworld, I gave him a ring and he came out to meet us, resplendent in all his Dave-ish glory. That is to say, instantly recognisable. Much like the first time we met Tom, there was an odd sensation at the point you feel the internet connect with reality. We spent the next few hours in the World’s End, everyone’s favourite trendy Camden pub that serves trendy Camden cider, while Dave and his friend related to us how their coach driver managed to get lost on the way to the border.

Around 8:00, they had to go to the gig, so we bid our goodbyes and went to meet Sam and Lorna in Leicester Square, then looked for food. We tried to go to TGI Fridays, but there was an hour wait, so we went to Harry Ramsdens instead, where our bumbling waiter managed to fail to bring us half of our meal either because they’d run out or because he forgot. Still, at least he was pretty upbeat about correcting his mistakes. After that, we got dessert from the Baskin-Robbins in Leicester Square, because their mint choc chip is brilliant.

You may have noticed a break in service. This is almost entirely down to the SOUL INCINERATING HEAT that’s been causing us all major discomfort for the last week or so. I mean there are probably other minor factors (laziness, boredom, etc) but heat is the one I’m going to blame.

So, when we last joined our hero, he was car-less and had just taken a day off work. You’re probably asking yourself, in that tiny brain of years that strains to comprehend even these missives, how did that turn out?

Short answer: They fixed the car and I paid them £200.

Long answer: I had to walk up the road in the blazing heat, such that I was trying to eat a Lemonade Sparkle on the way to try and cool me down but finding it virtually disappeared as I tried to eat it. Somehow, the sun’s rays were transforming otherwise ROCK SOLID ice into a liquid unsuitable for chewing. When it was gone I was pondering the moral implications of dropping wood on the floor as litter. After all, it’s wood so it’s probably natural enough, but then natural wood splints don’t contain a joke (which I had already seen on a different stick - “What dance do tins of beans do?” - “The Can Can”) so one assumes there’s some level of processing involved. In the end I decided that the fact it was making my hand sticky was reason enough to cast it to the ground and dutifully returned the wood to the earth from whence it came. Then I powered on to the garage where they took £200 off me and returned to me a fixed car, which they had helpfully parked in the sun. Thanks to that I was even hotter driving back, but at least it didn’t take as long.

That was basically my entire Tuesday. I don’t remember doing much on either Wednesday or Thursday except writhing in heat-induced delirium and taking great solace in the discovery that at about 6pm our east-facing garden is shaded enough to actually cool down to a reasonable temperature, so we spent every evening this night eating dinner in the garden, talking in the garden, and stargazing in a very literal sense. In fact, we saw quite a few shooting stars between us (something I’d never actually managed to do until this week) which pointed to a likely meteor shower. But no triffid problem yet.

On Friday Sam and Damian came back over and we went into Central London to buy comics and all kinds of shite, though in many ways I was the only one spending any money. I bought, in addition to a week’s comics:
The Adam and Joe Show DVD
ATD-I album, In/CASINO/OUT
Tank Girl, Vol. 1 TPB
24/Seven Anthology graphic novel
and the latest Marvel Figurine Collection, “Mephisto”

Then we all went for a Nandos and I tried to deal with how much money I’d spent in a rational way. By trying not to think about it.

On Saturday, Josh, Sam, Damian, Nikki and I went to the Studio Artois film festival in Greenwich park. We left arounf 4-ish and got the Picadilly line, Jubilee line and DLR to Greenwich, then faced an incredibly difficult uphill walk in some very hot humid weather to go collect our tickets, though we did manage that. When we got there we found a place with a decent view, put down the groundsheets and prayed that it wouldn’t rain. In case it did, I was carrying a large umbrella which I used to extend my reach to great effect throughout the rest of the day. We got drinks and food (Steak Sandwich. £7-50. Coke, £2-00. What bargains.) and then listened to the LSO play a selection of film themes that we didn’t know, including and certainly limited to anything John Williams didn’t do, because they clearly didn’t get the rights off him. Then there was an excellent DJ Yoda set, though the visuals, cut-together scenes from the films that influenced Kill Bill (and films from the surrounding genre) that made me want to go and watch some Bruce Lee like I did occasionally when I was a kid. Then they actually played Kill Bill Vol. 1, which I haven’t seen for some time now. On a screen that size, it was utterly unbeatable too. With the lack of rain, it turned out to be an excellent night out.

The DLR station became full very quickly afterwards, so we ended up going two stops back and boarding there so that we could get seats. It worked a charm, but because of the delays we ended up at Bank too late to get the tube home. Besides which, even before we were aware of that, we boarded one in the wrong direction and ended up at Liverpool Street station. We ended up getting the N11 night bus back home, which took us basically the whole way back as far as any bus route can, and turned out to be a really cool ride, because we were at the front. There was one of the trademark London “Weird Guy on the Bus” as repeatedly related to us by Al, though this guy just herd us wuoting Fight Club at each other and seemed to want to talk about it. Then he recommended we see Old Boy, and informed the people he was with that when they got back they were going to watch Fight Club. We made it back at about 3am, then woke up at 10 the next morning feeling decidedly groggy about the situation, so I decided to do the only rational thing and cook myself a Sunday Lunch and watch the new episode of the F Word that I downloaded, by which point the afternoon was looking up considerably.

Which, more or less, brings me to now, when I finally have to admit that I’ve got to go to bed and prepare to go back to work tomorrow. I get paid on Tuesday though, which should take the edge of the week somewhat.

So much has been done over the recent weekend-ish time that I’m going to have a hard time remembering it all. But I’ll try to do so in a kind of pseudo-cynical “i’ve got nothing to say but I don’t want to leave my blog stagnant for yet another day” manner.

Friday, Damian and Sam came over for the second of three weekends that they’ll be at ours for. I spent the day cleaning We played Mario Kart on Ian’s projector and naturally, I won.

Saturday, we went shopping in the morning. On the way, we picked up Seb from Hillingdon and then did the weekly shop around Tescos. We came back here and talked comics and all that jazz, then crammed seven of us into Ian’s room for increased Nintendo DS Mario Kart action, which I again won. Because I am like a god. We then got ye olde tube to Waterloo where the IMAX was showing Superman, in 3-D! We picked up the tickets after navigating the confusing network of tunnels leading to the entrance, and then went looking for food, eventually choosing some decent-ish cafe place quite close to where we were. I had (surprise) cod and chips, which was nice but in this heat, I didn’t have much of an appetite. We then, more or less, saw the film. I’ll put it in slightly more detail very soon, if I get my arse in gear, but the general perception at the moment is that it was a decent film, could’ve been better, and the 3-D segments were fun but not quite as impressive as they could’ve been.

Sunday, I took Nikki up to ASDA so she could look for some clothes and I took the advantage to go buy some products that Tesco don’t stock. The result? 18 cans of Vimto. I forget anything else that went on, but certainly Damian went home and probably there was some Mario Kart involved, and if so, I definitely won it. We did spend a lot of time outside chatting, though mainly because it’s only bearable to do anything when the sun gets out the fricken’ way. While sitting outside, I saw a really excellent shooting star, which is the first time I’ve seen one that I can recall. I’ve had some that were sort of on the periphery, but that yesterday was unmistakable, and pleased me.

Today I had my first day off work so I took the car in for an MOT with Josh. We walked up Uxbridge road and bought the DVD version of video-boardgame classic, Atmosfear, from Woolworths, and then got a bit of shopping from Sainsburys, before walking back to discover that the car needed plenty of repair work. Fluid leakage in the rear suspension, and a failing handbrake mean that I left the car in the shop and they’ll get back to me tomorrow about how much they’ll be ripping me off. Oh well, better than the axle snapping on the motorway or something, I guess…

I’ve been lacking updates recently because instead of spending every evening on the PC, I’ve been devouring pop culture, by which I mean comics. In the past week alone, I’ve read Scott Pilgrim’s 1 and 2, East Coast Rising, and Genshiken Volume 6. All of them were utterly brilliant, which has left me a gibbering wreck. It’s virtually impossible to choose what’s the best, but the one with widest appeal is definitely Scott Pilgrim. I don’t care who you are, if you’re reading this you’re nerdy enough to love it. Get through Volume 1, and I can promise that Volume 2 will have a genuine Monkey Island reference.

Yesterday after work, Josh was in Central London so Nikki came to meet us all from work and we went around various shops, and stumbled blissfully upon Genshiken Volume #6, released a full 2 weeks early, which will no doubt please Damo what he comes to visit this weekend. It may well be my favourite volume so far, but then I think 5 was when I read that. Unfortunately, it ends with volume 10 so it’s a bittersweet purchase, as it puts me convincingly past the halfway point. Another year, and I’ll be completing the collection and lamenting the passing of another great series. Azumanga only managed 4 volumes, though, so I’m well aware that it could be much worse.

Besides reading comics, I’ve also been watching the new series of The F Word with Nikki. I’m not sure why I like it when I usually hate cooking shows, but I think it’s the Magazine format of it that allows for a variety of sections without getting too tabloid, focussing on the latest idiots he’s drafted in and how badly they’re fucking up. Though I could do without less of Janet Street-Porter.

I had an unintentional Radiohead fanboy day today. This morning I put on my hail to the thief t-shirt because it’s one of the ones I save as acceptable work wear. Then, at lunch, I went and bought the Thom Yorke album. Then later, on the tube home, the only thing I had to read in my bag was a small book I bought a few weeks ago about OK Computer (having read the one about Doolittle a while ago.)

The trouble is that I chose the wrong t-shirt this morning. As I explained to Ian, had I thought ahead I’d have worn something not related to music, and certainly not related to Radiohead. The t-shirt is an effective idea delivery vector. It’s important to me that I’m wearing the right t-shirt on the right occasion, and that means if I’m going to buy music, I try not to wear a music t-shirt, else I’ll just look like an individual with an unbalanced lifestyle. In the same way I wear my comics t-shirts to gigs, and my gig t-shirts to comic conventions, the right attire must be selected, and it can determine whether or not one spends the important parts of the day looking stupid or not. 

It’s a rare occasion where I think about how what I’m wearing might look to other people. Clearly it works, because I’m always getting complimented on my choice of t-shirt, from conventions to shops to book readings, it’s pretty much the only praise I’ve ever had about my appearance, so I’m at least doing something right in that area. Today’s faux pas must be avoided in future.

During some down time tonight, I read Scott Pilgrim #1, which had arrived. Dear god, it was good. It was like the bastard lovechild of Brian Wood and Spaced. Surreal action, pop culture references, and Generation Y romance. It has it all. Tomorrow I’m going to buy (and very likely read) the next two volumes, assuming I can get them at FP. If not, I’ll be straight on Amazon.

Living in London exposes you to things that, back in Warwickshire and Oxford, I wasn’t privy to. People wearing sacks, for instance. Black snot. A general yet piercing hatred for the stranger you pass in the street and have no further contact with.

However, the experience most unique to London? Being slowly cooked alive underground. This is my second summer in the capital, and once again, as the weather heats up, so do the trains, like it’s the dark ages or something. You will remember that last July and August were mostly Tube-free, due to the exploding they were doing, so this is going to be my first proper long-term experience of using the tube during the hottest weeks of the year. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.

It’s inconceivable to me that someone, somewhere, has consistently failed to find the necessary funding to cool these fucking death traps down. I’m trying not to be a typical Londoner whining about what, for all its failings, is possibly the most convenient public transport in the country, but jesus christ, if you had to use it you’d soon understand. By the time I reach work I’m already exhausted. I stay late at work even when I have no specific reason to, just because it means there are less people in the carriages. I pity the poor bastards who have to use the Northern line in this weather.

I’m not sure I really have a point beyond “fuck me, it’s hot down there” but I think that’s probably enough. It’s negatively affecting my lifestyle.

For Josh’s birthday I bought him We3. I tried to buy it for myself off Amazon, and they were out of bloody stock for 2 weeks. I bought Scott Pilgrim #1 and East Coast Rising instead. I have also delayed my comics review to do the second opinion review of the latest Dr. Who episode (Seb did the main one) which I watched this week because it’s the first part of the finale, and which, as it turns out, was fucking excellent.

After a particularly extended day at work finishing off targets and stuff, I came home, had dinner, then later in the evening we picked up Tom from the train station where he had arrived on his way dahn saaf to see his relatives. As some of you may recall, Tom lived with us in Oxford for two years before returning to Scotland to carve out a life for himself free of the London filth that Ian and I had decided to brave.

He got in pretty late on Friday so Nikki gave him some pasta and then we hung around in Ian’s room for a while before hitting the sack. Before that, he did tells us about the weirdoes he frequently comes into contact with, including the Breatharian who believes he can take in all nutrients from the air, and thus stopped eating. He became so light-headed and spiritual that he had to start eating again because it was too intense, though he only does so these days because he likes the taste. This is why I don’t talk to strangers.

On Saturday morning we went to Tescos and then into London. We managed to choose the same day as the European Pride parade which meant plenty of characters made the place seem  far more diverse than usual. And by “diverse” I mean that people were walking around dressed in cloth sacks as if it were usual behaviour. We went to Fopp where I bought Fear & Loathing on the campaign trail because I am recently interested in Hunter S. Thompson. Recently, though, I’ve been finding reading on the tube difficult because it’s hot and I’m tired and all the books I’ve got are by authors who write under the influence of mushrooms and acid. I was looking into more, er, straightforward books, like that Pixies biography, so I’m not sure another HST work is the way to go, but it’s too late now.

In Forbidden Planet, I bought myself an El Gala figure to go with my Hyatt figure. Buying Anime figures is a recent, if dangerous trend, but I figure I like so little anime I can afford to do it. I showed Tom the counter-culture section that I’ve been meaning to drag him to for years, and he bought a few books including an interesting-looking thing about social versus lifestyle anarchism. I was saying that he was making me feel unintellectual because I was buying toys and he was buying books about alternative politics but he assured me that if they had an Excel figure he would’ve been buying that too, so I’m off the hook.

We then walked up to Holborn. We stopped off at Sainsburys for some refreshments, and I accidentally bought some Fanta Z. Gah. Not as bad as the time I bought a 6-pack of that Coke Zero swill because the black-coloured cans seduced me, but still a stupid thing to do. We caught the train up to Camden where Rachel was watching England get kicked out of that sporting event that’s going on. The World’s Cup or something. You can probably tell it’s upset me deeply. We sat in the pub for a while on an increasingly hot balcony, Ian drinking his (suddenly trendy) cider, until Dan and Rachel turned up after the football was done. Dan is the only person I know who understands E from the eels in the same way I do, so we traded stories of hilarity regarding E’s behaviour on the recent dates we saw him play. Nikki gave Rachel the book from Fopp that tells travellers “69 uses for a water bottle” - you’d be surprised how many of them involve cutting off the top and filling it with fluid. Seb came into the city to meet us and we went to some ex-wetherspoons near Chalk Farm and waited like an hour for our food orders to arrive. Apparently the Chef was “very busy” but it seems more likely he was “watching” the “football” as you might say.

Rach and Seb eventually had to catch the train back, and Dan went to meet his other friends. Nicky Wire was doing a solo appearance at Stay Beautiful and it seemed an incredibly tempting prospect, but having been zonked out by the weather and sort of missed the chance to buy tickets because of hanging around in the pub, we went home. Next time we see Rachel it’ll be after she gets back from India in about 2 months, so who knows what wacky things could happen in the mean time. When I look back on my life 2 months ago, I sure realise that a lot can change. For instance, I didn’t have the anime figures I bought, nor had I got, er, my DS lite. What I’ve actually realised, in retrospect, is that in 2 months I’ll have whored out the tattered shreds of my value system yet further in pursuit of material goods. But who knows what wacky goods I’ll buy?

When we got home I degraded myself further by watching Diary Room Uncut on Channel 4, a program which takes all the tedious and unimportant things people on Big Brother say and making idiots like me watch them. I passed out shortly afterwards, and sleept until 10am. Later we wandered up to the Uxbridge road and I bought a coke glass which turned out to be pre-broken, though I did get the Lemonade Ice Lolly I’ve been craving since Summer began. At one point Tom and I were sitting on the lawn chairs in Woolworths and some guy tried to buy the nearby fans off us. We must look like respectable chaps. I then dropped Tom off at the station and spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to cool down. I wish, in some ways, that I was back at Uni because in those days I just slept through the afternoon and did all the stuff I couldn’t do because of the heat in the middle of the night instead, but unfortunately for that plan, work demands a rigid schedule. I’m taking some time off in a week or two, so I can always get down with the fucked up sleeping patterns then, I suppose, but I’m secretly (openly) hoping the weather will take a turn for the worse before then. Cross your fingers.