The last goodbye and a funny man.

This is Charlie Brooker.

If you haven't had a chance to read any of his works might I be the first to tell you to do so.

He manages to be funny and brutally honest as a critic of media and life in general. This is a brief excerpt from his book 'Dawn of the Dumb'.

"Four thousand years ago I used to write a website called 'TV Go Home', which consisted of capsule descriptions of imaginary television programmes - most of them ghastly creations teetering on the brink of plausability. One of the earliest entries was 'Wanking for Coins', which was described as 'apocalyptic fun as Rowland Rivron tours the seedy backstreets of London's West End persuading the homeless commit acts of self-degredation in exchange for pennies'.

I liked the phrase 'Wanking for Coins' so much I went on to use it again and again. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to sum up an entire world of low-level employment. Stuck in a dead-end job? Wanking for coins. Obliged to smile at customers? Wanking for coins. Working extra shifts to pay the rent? Wanking for coins."

The article goes on to speak of a television show I'd never heard of called 'Fortune: Million Pound Giveaway' and the whole thing is just HILARIOUS. 

Buy his books, watch his shows, read his articles.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Brooker

Tomorrow I head off to university up in Sheffield, so I don't know when I'll next be able to write on this. Fingers crossed I can put some of my work up on here for you to judge and maybe enjoy. Until then, listen to this on repeat.

The summer of '10.

It's been a slow few months. The days have merged into one big haze with only flashes of memorable, discernible moments. It's strange to think that this summer is really the last of its kind; everyone is gone, no-one is left back in the safety of Surrey's glorious bosoms. This Sunday I make leave for university up in Sheffield and to be perfectly honest I have no idea what to expect and that's kind of why I'm looking forward to it. 


In a way it's kind of a shame to be leaving. I finally managed to find some work (after failing miserably for weeks on end), our 'group' gained some excellent new members and, as always, there are some super-sweet video games coming out for xbox. Just my luck. 


That's not to say that this summer hasn't had it's high points. All the photos on this post were taken at Reading Festival 2010, where the music was good and the company was even better. Highlights included - drinking from 8am, an almost record perfect performance from Arcade Fire, a brief but brilliant moment during the Silent Disco where everyone in the tent lay on the floor looking to the stars, my good friend Ross McKenzie throwing 160 individual baby wipes around a tent and inventing & playing a game which will surely be remembered for aeons to come known only as 'Eat the Cheese'.


As well as Reading came a series of performances at nearby Epsom Downs, where generic pop acts would play to foolish ticket buyers whilst paupers and scene kids alike (namely us) would gather on the nearby fields and hills to thieve the music from the air and enjoy each others company. More often than not the perilous walk to and from Epsom via the woods would be just as fun as the time we spent there.


I went travelling for a few months at the beginning of the year and visited some spectacular places and met some amazing people. I spent a lot of the summer thinking about how lucky I was to get the chance to do it and what I'd change and why I'd want to go back etc etc blah blah blah. But one of those earlier mentioned amazing people came in the form of Leila, a strange talking Australian who we met up with back here in England after our trip. Long story short, she says the word 'fish' funny, she can eat more than most fully grown wrestlers and I was heartbroken to see her go. Fingers crossed I'll have an excuse to go the Melbourne some day and cause some havoc.


In more disastrous leaving-themed news, my aforementioned friend Ross leaves for the Marines tomorrow. I'm pretty sure he'll just be training so there's not too much to worry about but it's a pretty daunting thought nonetheless. I was especially terrified after reading the Wikipedia page for the Royal Marines which essentially lists a horrendous archive of guns they use and strenuous physical activity they'll be undertaking. Gross. It's strange, I have this horrific amalgamation of worry and nerves for my dear Rossy, but I don't suppose there's much more I can do than wish him luck and hope he doesn't get bummed or shot in the foot.


On a positive note, this summer was one of small things as well big things - the more than welcome introduction of our not very manly poker nights, knocking over wheely-bins in the middle of the night and then driving away as fast as we could, the shopping trips, the days where I'd wake up at 1 and go to bed at 4, driving in cars with music turned up, the endless nights spent in Epsom spoons with good company and a glass of Strongbow, the nights where there was nothing to do so we'd just wander around, playing guitar with Fred until the Sun came through the blinds and we realised it was morning, the hours wasted playing videogames, watching films and reading books I've read a million times before; the list goes on. 


It seems now all I really have left to do is go forwards and I'll be on the right track. That just leaves the small matter of getting everything ready for studying and living for three months and learning how to make friends again. Maybe I should have been organising that rather than sitting around in my pants watching 'Eight Legged Freaks'. Again.


P.s The glorious video below pretty much sums everything I loved about this summer. That and also my undying, unrequited love for Régine Chassagne.
P.s.s Some of these photos were taken by Coco Williams and so you should totally check her out.

The new Commandments.

For as long as I can remember, I've had unhealthy reliance upon lists. The want to tick a task off after it's completed is so etched onto my brain that I struggle to think what I'd do without the ability. I use them for everything -  Holidays, festivals, back to Uni's, shopping, achievements, to do's. I could go on forever.  But there's one compilation, one list so magnificent that it's taken up a majority of my time for the last 6 years.


This.



IMDb (Internet Movie Database) is a film geek's wet dream. You wana know what the biggest grossing film of 1980 was? Boom! You wana know how many films Hitchcock directed before his fat ass keeled over and died? Blammy! So you wana know what year 'Cats and Dogs' came out so you can build a time machine, go back in time and mangle and brutally kill all the cast and crew so that the film never gets made? Kapow! Yes, it's a cavern of facts, trivia, quotes and info about pretty much anything that's ever been recorded. But the website's icing on the cake is the top 250. 


It's a simple idea really. All of the nerdy users (there are thousands of them) vote for every film that is released and give it a rating out of ten. These votes are then compiled into a list of the best films ever. Obviously, as it's a user-based system it has its flaws. The internet is ruled by skinny kids who read comics so anything to do with superheroes, aliens, zombies or Star Wars gets voted extremely well ('The Dark Knight', 'Alien' and 'Aliens' all sit smugly in the top 100 whilst modern classics like 'Oldboy' and 'Fargo' loiter below).  If you don't like the idea of this you might want to try Metacritic - essentially the same idea but instead of ratings given by users, scores are based on reviews by critics. I DIGRESS.


The point I'm trying to make is that the top 250 isn't just a list. It's something to do, something to aspire to, something to be shared with friends and family. Print it off, tick off how many you've seen and gape at how many you haven't. It's only guna get longer if you don't start watching them now.

Julian.

I don't know a whole bunch about art but I know what I like.

If you don't know who Julian Opie is, it's time for you to learn.

Links.

1. 2. 3.