Nothing to see here

The text below has been centrally aligned, which I believe is the standard warning that poetry may follow. Should you prefer watching crabs fight over a doomed sandcastle to a synthy post-rock soundtrack, click here.

ANDS UNDROPPED

When is and was
(and in and)
went to see
and saw
that is was was and when was who
they stopped, these two, and swore -

Bugger they said
This is confusing

In a land of is and was and this
of who and which and when
where was is is and who is where
and when will all this end

here and now
is all we have
and if that doesn't seem like much
go and in and
and I to I
(and such and such and such) -


(it'll be no less confusing

but ands are nice:

two touch


____(and touch
_

_________and touch,

Seriously. What are you still doing here? You could be watching seagulls being complete bastards, and crabs that seem to have been filled with ink for some reason...* You're a fool unto yourself, I tell you. A fool unto yourself.

(Anyway, sorry, the above was a bad E. E. Cummings rip-off - I've been reading his poems on and off all day - they're bloody marvellous - and apparently I just couldn't help myself. As for the video, I'm mildly baffled by it, and it's not nearly their best song - this might be - but there's a line or two that sort of fit in with the above, so I guess the link stays).

*or is this usual?

Reverse-engineered karaoke

Is it real?
Yes.

Why?
I don't know. I really don't know.

What would happen if you fed it the vocals from Creep?
Hmm, how odd that you should ask...



More songs impeccably ruined by Microsoft here. Actually, though, I think I kind of liked that version...



I know.



I can never, ever write for the NME now.



So that's one fewer awful fate awaiting me then :)

The Curious Case of Forrest Gump

If I'd had anything to do with (the original) Forrest Gump I expect his mother's great words of wisdom would have been more along the lines of: "Life is like a box of Cheerios, unlikely to tempt you out of bed before lunch." It wouldn't have been quite so popular, though, I suppose. Or have been remade with Brad Pitt in the title role.

Witness, The Curious Case of Forrest Gump:

And yes, both films really did have the same screenwriter.

[This was originally on Funny or Die, I think, but Paramount seems to have been trying to eradicate it from all the main video hosting sites, so it might well be unavailable by the time you read this - copyright reasons, it said on YouTube (at which point I'd make the obvious joke, but apparently Paramount owns both movies. Anyway, boooooo! to Paramount, for at least two reasons)].

I get around (eventually)

My inability to get around to things apparently knows no bounds, so until I get around to the things that I have to get around to before getting around to the new blog, here are a few links I've found while not getting around to things. If you get around to clicking on them, well done.

Andrew Bird has a new album; NPR were streaming it here, but now they're not. However, they do have quite an extensive interview/concert/article/etc. archive on the singer of such songs as A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left, that one about not being able to ride the concept of a horse, and the oddly prophetic one that talks about the "crumbled financial institutions of this land" but reassures with a chorus of: "Ooh-ooh, there will be snacks, there will / There will be snacks, there will be snacks," which certainly sugars the pill as far as I'm concerned, and all before anyone had even heard of Credit Crunch too.

Incidentally, the current financial scariness is all the fault of David Bowie, apparently.

A blog of superuseless superpowers, such as Left-side Levitation, and Psychic Amnesia (Mementodamus).

Photographic reconstructions of Far Side cartoons - mostly they're quite low on any kind of photographic artistry, but they should prevent you getting around to more useful things for at least a few seconds.

An oddly compelling cricket game, despite my general indifference to the real game. My top score so far, by the way: 401. And if only there were no need to write the words 'so far'... [sigh].

Movie scripts, screenplays and the like, free and downloadable at Simply Scripts.

Apparently Resonance FM has a sort of secular humanist, arts and ideas talk show programme every week. But if you can never quite get around to listening to it live, it's available as the Little Atoms podcast, featuring the likes of Jon Ronson, Stewart Lee, Linda Grant, Jonathan Meades, and to my surprise Jonathan Derbyshire, who tried to teach me philosophy many years ago. Despite that, I bear him no grudge, and oddly had encountered a few articles with his name attached to them very recently too (hadn't got around to checking it was the same bloke, of course, but sometimes chance does the job for you. But, alas, only sometimes).

The Daily Routines (or, possibly, lack thereof) of artists, writers, and other people prone to occasionally doing something interesting (and John Grisham). WARNING: may depress or reassure, depending on the person and the day. Or in the case of Flaubert, both; somehow.

A maker of wonderfully whimsical comics; and her friend's very accurate and amusing parody. Oh, and another online comics site anthology 2.0 thing (it has lots of comics, and is a bit 2.0-ish, or something).

Lego. Lots of lego.


Anyway, enough. I have things to be getting around to.

A vague announcement

I wonder if I can get away with saying the month-long pause was a tribute to the memory of Harold Pinter?

No, didn't think so. After all, at least three weeks of it weren't even posthumous (mmm, humous....)

Er, anyway, what I actually came here to say was that I might not be here much in future. I've got a bit bored of it all and am probably heading elsewhere. Not to the 140-character land of Twittering, mind; I just fancy a bit of a flight from reality for a while - not sure quite what that'll consist of yet, but more than likely it will take place aboard a blog.

More details as and when...

[strokes beard mysteriously]

[owner of beard glares and goes to sit somewhere else]

Untilted

In the background: feet. In the foreground: a block - it is mine. In the middleground: stuff - it gets everywhere; somewhere, there is always stuff.

Now you know the landscape let us begin.

I have been approaching the block from many angles lately. (But the feet aren't mine. They aren't anyone's, they're just feet). The most oblique angle I have tried is 176°. Or perhaps I'm being obtuse? Yes, I am. Though not quite as obtuse as I might be. Beside the block is a hole - it is a block hole. It has no purpose, it is just a poor pun. Give it some money. Even if you do, it won't go away; you'll just be encouraging it, and later you'll doubtless see it staggering around drunk and swearing. It may even try to fight you. Then you'll be sorry.

The block has words scrawled on it. Two of them are Birmingham. So are all the others. They aren't accurate. Or dirigible. They're Birmingham. Or do you need telling a third time?

As usual the feet are trying to get my attention - I can hear them jumping up and down in an agitated sort of rhythm. I can't see them, though. There's stuff in the way. They can't see me either. They're feet. Let them jump. They're meant to jump. They're also meant to run, and go away, and walk out on you, and leave. Bastards.

I wish I could ignore the block. I wish it would go away. I wish I hadn't covered it in Birminghams. I don't know what I was thinking. I really don't. I was probably thinking about Birmingham. It's all Jonathan Meades' fault. It's all Jonathan Meades' fault. It's all the fault of Jonathan Meades...

FADES OUT

[Links lead, respectively, and respectfully, to (YouTube-sized) parts 1, 2 and 3 of Jonathan Meades' wonderfully absurd docu-thingy on Birmingham - more telly should be like that. So much more].

A merciful break from the awful puns of recent days

Anyone with any curiosity about the writing process, and TV writing in particular, could do worse than have a look at this week's Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe (or track it down on YouTube, TV Links, etc., if you're reading this in a week's time). It's always worth a look anyway, of course - unless you don't like Charlie Brooker. But for this week at least a liking of the grumpy one isn't even a pre-requisite: for 50 minutes it's all about the people being interviewed - Paul Abbott, Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain, etc.

Overall, lots of useful stuff, but most reassuring was finding out that even the likes of Tony Jordan, Graham Linehan and Russell T Davies are hopeless procrastinators/fastidious researchers (depending on your point of view/level of self-delusion) who hate writing, but love 'having written'. Paul Abbott even employs people to force him to write - which is just brilliant. Made me feel much better.

Anyway, must go. Lots of research to do, and all that...

(Wonder if the Inland Revenue might accept that my over-priced coffee consumption should count as research? Hmm...)

9:00 AM

When I awoke this morning a note lay beside me on the pillow. It gave a phone number, and above the number a message: "Perhaps now you will reconsider my offer?" it read. Beside the note lay a seaweed strand and a seahorse's tiny severed head...

Angrily getting out of bed, I snatched them up and heading for the shower dropped them in the nearest bin - who did they think they were! So, perhaps tomorrow I shall be sleeping with the fishes? But it's the priniciple of the thing. Never will I give in to the demands of lobsters!

Shoe romance - part 2

After the shoes have been to Relate the problem takes on a new complexion:

This couple of shoes with their differing views, 'twas inevitable
That both would fight, 'twas inevitable that both would lose

But the trouble is through now, they've promised it is. The issue's address'd
He'll stop trying to be right now, and she'll never be left

Shoe romance

It is a harsh fact of romantic entanglements between shoes that they will always be laced with tragedy. For should even the slightest of arguments arise in paradise - and what couple is ever without its disagreements? - at argument's end, only one of the pair will have been right...

The other will always have been left.