Monday, April 26, 2010


Monday 26 April 2010

Dream: I’m at Clacton to celebrate my birthday with various Colchester scene types from the past few years.  We arrive late and straight into an intimidating and drunken environment/climate.  From here we get a chalet akin to an ATP one.  Things turn slightly horror movie as our group splinters and gets picked off.  Part of our plan is to check out a horror metal band but soon this plan goes awry as we pretty much lose one another straight away.  I wind up in our chalet with Lee where we wonder where the others have disappeared to.  Suddenly a milk crate comes flying through our window smashing the glass terrifyingly.  Then a second comes flying in as it becomes apparent that we are under attack.  At this point I begin shouting towards the people outside doing this and two fat blood soaked locals stick their heads through the broken window and begin threatening to throw a third crate through it.  I head outside to shout at them some more where I see them wrestling each other but when they notice me they give chase.  From here I begin running away from the chalet through part of the complex which resembles some kind of warehouse.  Eventually I bump into the Floods (Adam and Doug) who tell me they are off to see the horror metal band now.  I respond “fuck that” in a conscious decision to escape/avoid the pursuing locals.  It has to be said that outside Clacton now more resembles Brighton and in general a much nicer place, which comes as a mixed blessing.  The dream ends with me running.

I awaken hungry and chilled this morning.  Just before the dream I had briefly awakened to the noise of my TV having been left on all night and the sound of Countdown.  Truly terrifying.

This morning I pull myself together still feeling tired and not really ready for the week to begin just yet.

There is a frustration in my voice which may explain why I find myself vocalising and shouting at the car in front of me at the train station as it proceeds to stop at every speed bump.  It does this four times and I shout four times.  With speed bumps you do not have to full on brake for each and every one of them, just take it easy.  Eventually the car in question parks up near me and I feel the evils of the driver (a girl) piercing into me as stares as I pass while she buys her ticket.  She ain’t had the morning that I’ve had though (the dream! The horror!)

The train is noticeably busier today and with it more uncomfortable and unpleasant.  It beaches a couple of times around Chelmsford and thus eventually arrives into London slightly late.  Welcome to Monday.

Once into London everybody appears to keep bumping into each other on the tube this morning, including bumping into me.

When I finally step into the office it comes as no surprise to find that the computers are down.

Today The Girl turns up having finally returned from Ghana.  She is looking like a lobster but happy for it and very relieved to have made it home.  Its cool to see her and nice to have a third person back in the room again.  She gives me and the Filipino wristbands made out of brilliantly coloured stones.  I’ll never wear it but the stones are fascinating.

From here the morning improves as the consultant phones and informs me that he won’t be making it in today.  This is a definite result, one less nuisance to contend and deal with.

Before I know it the day reaches lunchtime where I happily indulge in penne arrabiatta with chicken.  In addition to this The Girl orders us return chips, the first fries we have consumed in a very long time (not that anybody should really care).

In the afternoon things fail to pick up as The Girl’s return coupled with a food coma ultimately results in the day flying by without me managing to complete my to do list yet again.

Towards the end of play the IT guy comes in and its cool to see him for the first time in a while.  We could have done with him this morning when the network went tits up.

At 5.30PM The Girl and I swiftly exit.  Tonight I am in a rush to get to the Everyman Cinema on Baker Street in order to catch a screening of ANNIE HALL at 6PM.  This cinema represents something of a hostile throwback for me as it is situated right next to (and in the literal shadows of) my old Baker Street office building.  With this fact in mind as I emerge from the tube station and head up Baker Street to the cinema I am genuinely fearful of seeing old acquaintances (air family ghosts).

My feels are not realised as I slip into the cinema without notice or bumping into any old faces.  Indeed I am first in the cinema to take my seat.

Screen 2 at the Everyman Cinema is not the most impressive (largest) screen in London but it is at least comfortable with a suggestion of luxury.  To my right is a wooden arm rest which I accidentally bounce my elbow off which immediately causes it to begin spasming.

It takes twenty minutes for the movie to begin which lends time for yet another annoying couple to find their way to sitting behind me.  Why do people go to the cinema to have a conversation?  And why do they choose to sit behind me to have it?  These days I suspect they are actually employees Odeon cinema paid to drive me to the point of returning to the cinema to watch the movie a second time thus doubling revenue in the process.  I think we are through the looking glass.

Fortunately not even these tools can ruin/spoil ANNIE HALL.  A silly ambition of mine is to see every Woody Allen movie on a big screen and perversely so far this is one that has passed me by until now.

As ever with watching a movie on the big screen I pick up on new elements and touches that I have previously missed despite having seen this movie maybe ten times.  Perhaps I have a better understanding and maturity towards the subject of relationships now.  Yeah right.

With the couple behind me rabbiting away the scene with Marshall McLuhan takes on extra resonance for me this evening as I am able to associate with Woody’s struggle with sociopaths first hand.  Do these people really not get it, especially when it is so vivid in front of their faces?

Tonight more so than ever I can see why it fails to work out between Diane Keaton and Allen and why it isn’t the end of the world when it indeed ends.  I guess this is at least a rare indicator that I am maturing somewhere somehow.

When the movie finishes up I give the annoying couple sat behind me a dirty look in the darkness before emerging onto a bright Baker Street evening.  Why didn’t this place work out for me?  I curse Moriarty.  We never had it this good.  Actually in recollection I never did work at Baker Street in April, in the spring or early summer.  Was this something that I missed out on?  All in all it only serves to make me pine for Zoë.

With the time still early at 8PM I head straight to Waterloo briefly stopping by Tesco to buy some sweets for Eleanor in a weak/feeble effort/attempt/gesture to make amends for making her wait.

As I emerge at Waterloo the evening remains bright as the South Bank proves a sight to behold which causes me to remain feeling giddy and excited, enthusiastic for proceedings.


Finally I meet up with Eleanor in the BFI foyer where she has already collected our tickets and now I truly feel like a user.  We take the opportunity to also pick up our pre-ordered tickets for other events (screen talks by Leslie Nielsen and Tippi Hedren) and soon we are ready for CABARET.

We step into the main cinema, collecting notes on the way, and soon I find myself being told off by the usher for being in possession of sweets.  There is truly a sweet irony in this as so many of my movie experiences are ruined these days by other people chowing down on their own sweets free from discipline.

While we wait for the movie to begin people continue to shuffle in including a group of four men who sit to our left who I think just might be homosexual.

CABARET turns out to be an interesting film.  Viewed out of context or any background knowledge it might appear/feel batshit crazy.  From my own perspective getting it confused with New York New York doesn’t help either.  My bad.

In the end it turns out to be an enjoyable experience as suddenly I find myself realising the appeal of Liza Minnelli and even a young Michael York isn’t too obnoxious for my tastes.  That said I still do not necessarily understand what is going on with the nightclub (were Germans always seedy and perverse?)

Ultimately it peaks too soon with a couple of classic scenes featuring Minnelli acting like a little madame in reaction to York being English and blasé.  As things become serious and the dark presence of the Nazis lingers in the background it often strikes a dour note.

I feel ashamed to admit that I begin nodding off towards the end and suddenly when I come around from my disco nap nothing on screen appears to make any sense any more.

Soon it ends as it occurs to me just how late it is getting.  When we get to Waterloo Eleanor and I go our separate ways as I continue my theme of gratitude before storming up to Tottenham Court Road and across to Liverpool Street.

In the end I get my wish and catch the 11.30PM Norwich (the final fast train) meaning that one hour later I find myself in bed regaining nod.

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