Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Lists

Well, its that time of year again. When everybody feels the overwhelming desire to return to their place of origin because some kid was born in a barn about 2000 years ago, or so that particular story goes. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that as of tomorrow I return back to Hell/Rockville/Devon for the Festive period, and so won't be able to communicate with all you people for the next few days. So in a method of trying to console yourselves, I've decided to go with all the magazines and provide a list of The Bronze Medal's Top 5 Singles of the Year. The way this should work will be that you get these now, and then I'll have made up my mind about movies and albums by the time I return home.

Anyways, I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank all the readers for, err, reading, and I'd also like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very Happy Christmas. Alternately, if you belong to a different social group that isn't Christian, just enjoy the period. I myself, am looking forward to having some time with my folks, and getting good and drunk with my esteemed colleagues, Savage McCee and the Kingsteignton Three. Who knows, maybe we'll go one better than last year and actually get ourselves arrested!

Before we get started, tracks that narrowly missed out but deserve a mention include 'Blood' and 'Bullets' by Editors, 'So Here We Are' by Bloc Party and 'Oh My God' by Kaiser Chiefs. Oh, and yes, 'Somebody Told Me' came out this year, but it also did last year. So I'm treating it as a re-release and therefore inelidgable. Anyways, on with the list...

5. Amerie - One Thing

OK, bit of a contraversial start to things given the Indie-friendly nature of the musical opinion usually expressed here, but this was a damn fine pop song. Up there with something like Girls Aloud's 'Love Machine' in it's sheer 'wanting you to move your feet'-ness, its a well produced, catchy little number that lodged its place in your head and refused to let go. For once though, it was a track that you actually didn't mind being there.

4. Fix You - Coldplay

Sometimes songs are written and they accrue the status of classic straight away. This has to be one such example. Perhaps it pulls at the heartstrings in a rather cliched way, but it entered into my life at a time when I needed a track such as this. When that guitar part and the drums crash in, it turns up the euphoria levels far beyond anything they've ever done before, only to bring things down again for the intimate finish the song deserves. All that, and it's Coldplay. A band who, prior to this year, were synonomous with simplistic, unambitious boredom in my opinion. You see, things can change...

3. 22 Grand Job - The Rakes

A song, and a band, that seem to completely divide opinion amongst many of the people I know. It seems you either love or hate this lot. However, I don't think anyone has managed to capture the whiney, pathetic nature of status anxiety in such an exact way. Worried about the lighting in your office? Or the amount you earn in relation to your level of participation? Or the fact that your shift starts earlier than anyone else? If the answer to any of these is 'yes' then just have a listen, and within 90 seconds I hope you'll have learnt a few things about yourself. Top.

2. Wires - Athlete

It seems as though beautiful ballads seem to come along once a year. 2004 brought us the soaring beauty of Snow Patrol's 'Run', which was matched equally, and unexpectedly, by this offering from Athlete. Written about the premature birth of singer Conrad's daughter, it's the kind of song that anyone who's had the displeasure of frequenting themselves with hospitals can relate to. More than that though, it's a song of hope and optimism. In a time when these can be small, it subsequently deserves applause. All we need is the highlights of Season Two of Who put to this next year and its status shall be complete.

1. Apply Some Pressure - Maximo Park

In all honesty, it was hard not to put 'Going Missing' and 'Graffiti' in this list, but in limiting yourself to one track per artist some differentiation had to be made, and this absolute gem became the weapon of choice. Spiky, energetic, and containing the kind of spontaneous end to a song that makes you want to hit repeat on your CD player, it managed to combine a great guitar riff with some intriguing, carnival-esque keyboard. However, it was much more than that: starting by managing to map out the kind of random thoughts that run through my head twenty-four hours a day, it eventually built in to a chugging, harmonic exploration of loss and despair, before exploding in to that final, killer flurry. Triumphant without a doubt.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

The Best


(Left to Right: Head of Wood, Cyber Control, Colonel K, Lady Elizabeth, "Hot" Rod Chrisway)


(Left to Right: Captain Yash, Major Tom)


(The D.A.Z. - Looking a little camp)












"Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat. Where have you been?"

Right, first of all, I'm not a cat, but in answer to your question I've been all over the shop. Both mentally and physically. First of all, there was a birthday for Yours Truly. Unfortunately it came just at one of those moments when your base falters a little and you have a shift in confidence. I'm still feeling bad about getting drunk and having a good old whinge about Life, the Universe and Everything. I don't like myself when I get like that, and I feel especially bad when it happens around the people that I value the most and yet haven't seen for bloody ages. Nonetheless, it was amazing to see everyone again, and I strongly hope we can all get together more often than we do. Just a shame that everyone ended up feeling lousy on the Sunday and the boiler broke down. Mental note to self though, after having fulfilled one of life's ambitions and slept in a bath, I wouldn't recommend it again. It's like sleeping in a slightly moist coffin.

Aside from that I've been to Londondinium to watch The Rakes, who were very good, and Editors, who were the most exciting live band I've seen in a long time. This all coincided with seeing Franz Ferdinand as well, who were pretty good if you like that sort of thing. Then I got fed up of living in a cold house, and so went back to see the Folks for a weekend, which was a nice way to let off a bit of steam and talk a few things over. Me, talking to my folks! I never thought that day would come. If you add in the numerous trips between here and Bristol I've been making, it could be said that I'm currently a well travelled man. All that and the great news that an old friend is moving back this way in the New Year! It must be the lure of seeing David Tennant in the flesh. Still, reasons to be cheerful!

Finally though, a big thanks to everyone that was present on the weekend of the 26/11. Without a doubt, those were the winning days....


Tuesday, November 22, 2005

On Having Nothing Much to Say

"People when they change their minds, it's a tell-tale sign
That they don't know what to talk about
" (The Bluetones, 1996)

I'm writing this as I've been prompted by a fan (yes, we do have one) to write an update. However, the problem is I've really got very little to report about. You can interpret that in two ways: either I've got into tunnel vision in respect to writing about public service broadcasting and so can't think about anything, or, my life is that dull that the only thing I can think about is public service broadcasting. Focused or dull? The choice is yours, dear reader. Obviously I'd prefer if you sided with the former, as no-one likes having their worst fears confirmed.

I should, however, have lots to comment on. Firstly, there was the special Who for CiN, which was pretty good. Now some fans have reservations over extended TARDIS scenes - personally speaking I don't know why - but that's fandom for you. Anyways, despite being a bit underwhelmed after first viewing (there were a couple of really bad cuts within the editing), further viewings changed my opinion: I thought Billie was ace (as per usual) and Tennant was equally as good. It was good to see that he's still got the same intensity that Eccleston brought to the role (i.e. the scene when he was explaining to Rose about the first time they met) but I think he'll do the quirky humour a bit differently, perhaps more in the style of Tom. That, however, is in no way a slur against Chris though. I've been a fan ever since Shallow Grave of the man's talents and will miss him not occupying the role.

Secondly, I went to the switching on of the Christmas lights in Cardiff last week, with Tennant and Billie. It was a pretty good time really. Cold, and there were loads of screaming kids running around the place, but aside from that it was good. Learnt some interesting things about the forthcoming series (sinister Christmas Trees, werewolves) and the company was good, as were the fireworks actually.

Hmm, this seems wierd writing when there's nothing to write about. Instead it just turns into an extended version of those diaries you always had to write on a Monday morning at primary school. I've not even got anything profound to talk about, nor are there any tracks I feel the need to promote. I was in a shop the other day that was dreadful, but I stayed in there for a while as they were playing Maximo Park. Not really that exciting is it?

"Time moves on, but all along, we've always known
It's never going nowhere
" (The Bluetones, 2003)

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Square One

What a strange day. I awoke this morning feeling quite melancholic, and that feeling hung around for most of the morning and some of the afternoon. The afternoon was plagued with disappointment: my mission Dalek-hunting was pitiful, and I left the city centre with my reasons for not visiting the place on a Saturday reaffirmed. Why do people stand still in shops, blocking any public right-of-way, for the sake of a chat? That's the point of the phrase 'Do you want to go for a coffee'. Moreover, why can't people walk according to set co-ordinates? That is, why can't they walk in a straight line, or a line that takes in to account that there's someone either walking behind/in front of them? And then there's kids, who have the directional sense of Dizzy, Dizzy Dinosaur.

Sorry, dear reader, I'm having a moan. I just sometimes get a little fed-up with the way that humanity has little attention to the fact that there are more people on the planet than just themselves. It doesn't take much to consider the feelings of another person, and that just the odd choice of word here, or delivery of that word there, might change the whole course of the recipient's day for one reason or another. Having said that, and speaking subjectively, if you spend too much time thinking about the possible repercussion of your actions you often end up doing nothing, as you don't want to offend. That's what makes things even worse when you decide to act and get nothing in return: it reaffirms a belief that you should probably just keep such things to yourself because, in the grand scheme of things, you don't really matter that much.

Gah, self-pity! It's not the most attractive character traits. Perhaps I'll just take Coldplay's X&Y and listen to that for a little while. After all, I'm stuck in square one. The strange thing is all this subsided once Exeter had returned back to the top of the Conference, and after a suprisingly engaging England friendly. Seems that temporary fixes can account for nothing against a general feeling of confusion and being a little bit lost.

DWM reports (proudly for some reason) that the Best of Billie has gone Gold already. There's a reason for this dear reader: its been on sale in HMV for a fiver, and I bet somewhere people are buying it for Who fans nationwide as a 'joke' Christmas present, much in the way you always get a pair of Darth Vader socks or the equivalent. Ah, consumerism: "I am defined by the media I consume, and consumed by the media of which I am defined."

You can quote me on that one if you like.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

The End of One Quest, the Start of Another...

Someone of great historical importance once remarked that it's a strange world out there; on recent evidence I'd agree with that. Today, I sat for an hour in a lecture that had absolutely no relevance to me whatsoever, but it did inspire me to thinking about the kind of film I would make if I had to make a film for my dissertation. More on that later. After a brief, and pleasent, conversation with a Lady with Immensley Cool Shoes, I proceeded to sit in the library and stare out the window for two hours and think. To make matters worse, I spent the whole two hours humming Owen Paul's 80s classic My Favourite Waste of Time. Eventually, said track mixed with Mylo's Drop the Pressure, to cause some strange 80s dance hybrid, and that was it! Absolutely nothing to do with the future of public service broadcasting, but a new dance song, and some musings concerning The Failures of Man.

Another strange occurance I've noticed recently: I have four versions of R.E.M's Pretty Persuasion on my computer. I'm not complaining, as personally I love the track. It's a great example of one of Michael's offbeat lyrical melody with some classic Buck guitar jangling in the background. I just would've thought that I'd have noticed by the fourth time...

So I finally tracked down some Idlewild bootlegs, and whilst they haven't appeared in the post yet, I'm anticipating their arrival. The next quest, well that may be a bit more difficult. I may actually discuss The Failures of Man with some filmy people to see what they think. Basically speaking, the piece is three short stories about the failures of men who are white, middle-class, rubbish and over-eager to impress in one way or another, which eventually leads to them becoming parodies of actual humans. One is about status anxiety. One is about loneliness. One is about being into 'extreme sports'. The first ends up living in the canteen. The second gets wallpapered to the office walls. The third with some strange, and embarrasing, bodily functions.

Just realised the time. I'm going to get Lost, and then maybe get found, or maybe, just maybe swallowed in the sea...

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

In the Words of Andy Warhol


"In the future, everyone will be famous for five minutes"

OK, maybe I'm being a bit over-the-top about this, but its not very often I get a brush with celebrity, and when you yourself end up involved its doubly rewarding. 'What the hell am I going on about?', I hear you asking, dear reader! Well, on Saturday, I went to the book signing to meet Russell T Davies, and it was absolutely fantastic! He's a really great bloke, and comes across just the way he does in Doctor Who Confidential or in interviews, really approachable and easy to talk to. I had a bit of a chat with him, asking for some tips surrounding my own writing and complementing him both on the success at the NTAs and for the fantastic scene at the end of Bad Wolf. Also met a couple of other fans, friends of a Man Much Greater Than I, who were really sound and took a lot of photos of what was going on. The wierdest thing though is that the South Wales Echo were doing interviews with fans outside of Waterstones, and ended up running with my interview! Subsequently, yesterday there was a big photo of me in my Tom Baker hat, holding the book, in the newspaper. Plus they didn't make me sound like an idiot, which is always a good thing. As a result, I kind of feel like the local celebrity fan! It'll pass. No one has asked for my autograph, nor hurled abuse at me in the street, so I'm not quite at the level of Charlotte Church yet.

In all honesty, I think the only people who read the Echo are either in their eighties, or not the type of people into Doctor Who, but its cool to be mentioned in the same piece as RTD though! I gotta say, I loved how Waterstones put a Dalek in amongst all of the books in the shop, as I thought it looked really good. Got me thinking about how you could turn that in to a story: perhaps you could have a library somewhere being run by the Daleks, or maybe you could just have a Dalek patrolling the dark corridors of a library, exterminating anyone who got near to some secret store of knowledge that was threatening to their race. Something like that anyways.

Away from the world of Who, there's not really that much going on. I've got an essay to write, and I decided not write it about Who. I thought I'd start on the right foot as I'm gonna write two others about it at present. Had to take a seminar yesterday, which was pretty cool if you discount the fact that only about two people spoke in my group. Nevermind, it was a good experience nonetheless.

Did you know there are two pieces of academic writing based around Phil Collins?

CyberControl's Five from the Past:

Super Furry Animals - Hometown Unicorn
Gene - Where Are They Now?
Genesis - Turn It On Again
Placebo - Scared of Girls
Blameless - Signs...

Friday, October 28, 2005

A Bit of BBC, If You Please

Right, I think it's time we called for a bit of standards on the comments page attatched to here. After all how old are we all? Surely far to old to be descending in to silly comments of 'And your mum' when we can't think of anything clever to say. So from now on, we'll have less of that. It's juvenile and silly. Although having said that, I can't help but recall a trip to Tesco with an old housemate's mum. Oh, that was funny! The people involved know who they are...

Anyways, in mentions of all things BBC, I'm going to meet Russell T Davies at a book signing tomorrow. I'm quite nervous about it, but quite excited at the same time. I bet I say something stupid to him; I'm currently replaying the whole of Robot in my head for some reason, and the words 'Think Tank' keep appearing in my subconscious. Don't worry though, it's nothing to do with a Blur album. Have decided I'm gonna wear my Tom Baker hat though. Oh, and whilst we're on the subject of our good Time Lord, can I just mention the three National Television Awards picked up mid-week. Well deserved by all the recipients and to claim them in ITV's backyard as well? Stunning.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Am I Pretentious?

God, its been an age since I last posted anything here. Fear not though dear reader, we haven't all jumped ship; think of it more as a fallow period due to adjusting to a new routine of life. I've now started my Masters and things are going alright. At least I think so, I feel as though I'm gradually going through the gears work-wise, and it'll still be a couple of weeks until I get back up to full speed. Anyways, the course is about what I was expecting, which is a good thing, and the travelling is pretty good as well. That may all change when essays and deadlines start to appear, but until then, we're fine. My tutor seems really cool as well, which is always pretty handy, although I think I ask him too many (probably obvious) questions. Will still though have to try and remember not to make everything I write about be based around either Who, Battlestar Galactica or something similar. After all, I am studying television and not just sci-fi television.

However, over the last couple of days its come to my attention that both of my housemates think I'm pretentious. Quite frankly, I'm astounded! The grounds for these accusations are as follows: I use big words and make overtly long sentences, I eat posh food and I make them feel inferior some times. There were other reasons, but for the moment they elude me. Anyways, for now I want to tackle these issues individually:

1) On using big words and long sentences: I just feel that if you've got a certain amount of substance to your brain, why not use it? I think this taps in to my deep-rooted hate of being viewed as stupid, something that I was made to feel for the majority of last year with my (terrible) job, and subsequently I may have reacted against that. Additionally, I spent most of the time I was in Sixth Form having to play dumb to a few people, and so didn't want to do that anymore. If that offends, then I'm sorry, but I just happen to like big words.

2) On liking decent food: what the hell is wrong with that? I mean, you hear so many stories about the rubish that's in the food you buy that I feel that in buying decent food I'm not eating as much regurgitated chicken head as other people. Granted, all I'm probably doing is eating the same amount of regurgitated chicken head as anyone else, just in better packaging. However, in my head it counts for something. Anyways, I still buy a lot of Value produce, I just happen to like fresh bread! As for ready meals, I still eat them. However, when you spent three years living with someone that constantly told you that you could make the same yourself for cheaper, and it'd taste nicer, it kind of took hold. Subsequently, I now agree with that sentiment. Moreover, what's wrong with reading the Observer Food Monthly?

3) On making people feel inferior: err, I don't know what to say to that, suffice to say that I wasn't aware I did, and if I do I'm sorry. I never mean to make people feel that way. Granted, I don't suffer fools easily, and I do tend to put up a lot of barriers before I let people in, but that's just due to past experiences. If you're too open you just get taken for a ride, and so the second (or should that be fifth?) time around, you're a bit more cautious. I don't think that's grounds for being pretentious!

Cyber Control's (pretentious) Top 5:
Maximo Park - Apply Some Pressure
The Cooper Temple Clause - The Same Mistakes
The Rakes - 22 Grand Job
Headswim - Better Made
Elbow - Snowball

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

A Minor Issue

I keep getting this knawing, sick feeling in my stomach at the moment, and I don't know why it is. It feels like your gut aches, and then the damn thing keeps making embarassing noises. I wouldn't mind if I knew it was alcohol related, but I know that it isn't. If any reading has any idea basic medical reasoning as to why this is, I'd be most grateful.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

The Edge of Forever

I'm gonna be straight with you because, whilst I always believe in being honest with people, this is really scary. Tomorrow I start my Masters, and whilst I'm anxious in relation to a few factors (communting, time (then again I always seem to have anxieties in relation to time which I accredit to being lost within the Who universe)) I feel as though in no context can I f**k this up, whether that be socially or professionally. Obviously, I'd rather mess things up sociallly than professionally, as that's just me, but either way would be a major discrepency. After all, in relation to the social side of things, it was only after three years of being anxious within Undergraduate studies that I actually got to talk to most of the people that made me nervous, and they all turned out to be fantastic. I can't let that happen again. Anyways, It seems much more about Networking within the Academic world; making sure you know people going in to different institutions, and hoping they won't slag off your work. Granted someone's gonna play John Snow, but hopefully not someone you know...

OK, so this is all middle-class angst, and not as relevant as the needs of the working-class etc. Yes, I know and realise this but it, still affects me. There are still people I wish to see, and miss, from the Old Days, whether they be old housemates or friends long departed. Eitherways, when you're looking back, as well as forward, as well as presentley, it leaves you in a mess in relation to time. For whilst forever is open, the present is there to manipulate, and the past lays paths to the discourses that made you what you are.

Oh, on an indie note, Maximo Park's new release Apply Some Pressure, is well worth a listen, if only for the last four lyrical lines.

Friday, September 30, 2005

On Being in a Seinfeld Mood

And so the debate rages on as to whether City of Death should be the Christmas DVD release, with the masses still demanding Genesis. Just one glance at the BBC website pays testament to this. I did fancy publishing a post pleading for Timelash, but even I cannot stoop so low as to try and wind up my beloved Who brethren. In all seriousness though, please can we have Greatest Show in the Galaxy next year? Please, BBC. Err, I'll be your best friend (?!?) Wait, this is all getting rather childish, I'll stop. I'm simply conforming to stereotypes if I continue that train of thought. Personally though, I welcome CoD to DVD, it'll definately be on my Christmas list. After all, being an analyst, and that being a televisual text, our two lines of work do dovetail very nicely!

Hmmm, so how is life? Life is good, thanks! A lot better than this time last week, I'll put it that way. I've done muchos readingos for the commencement of my course next week, and even potentially come up with an idea for my dissertation: it involves tackling the problems of making television drama for a global audience, by analysing the 1996 Who Tv Movie within the generic contexts of American and British television drama and drawing reference to such expectations related to elements such as the single play, the TV Movie and, naturally science-fiction, whilst paying attention to how these are played out within the text and the way they set up expectations for audiences within different cultures. In short, I seek to prove that even in today's globalised television society, it's impossible to make drama to satisfy a global audience. May even be able to work in some discussion and/or analysis of the new series as well! This all came to me on Monday night, after successfully completing my first sudoku, after six months of trying. Its times like that when I truly do kick ass.

Oh yeah, and a quick note to anyone who fancies kidnapping me: I found out in Devon that I can easily fit in the boot of a Peugeot 106, with the parcel shelf in and the door shut, and breathe perfectly well. Thus, if anyone does fancy abducting me, you won't need a fancy car.

Ultimate Chat Up Line for Goths:
"I like the way your organs are decaying."

CyberControl's Favourite Tunes:

22 Grand Job by The Rakes
Going Missing by Maximo Park
Sit Down, Stand Up by Radiohead
Swallowed in the Sea by Coldplay
All These Things That I've Done by The Killers

Monday, September 26, 2005

Hope

"You want to trust the Doctors, their procedure is the best
But the last try was a failure and the intern was a mess
And they did the same to Matthew, and he bled 'til Sunday night
They're saying 'Don't be frightened', but you're weakened by the sight of it
"

It's funny. That track has never really meant anything to me. It's always just been 'The One with the Simple Synth Part', positioned between two great songs on one of my favourtie records. That's not to say I never liked the track, it just didn't get under my skin in the way, say, Falls to Climb has. However, the above lyrics pretty much sum up the events of the last week or so. In short, I've been presented with situations to which there are no real solutions. There's no chance of either reconciliation, or the current situation getting any better. Why should I be so arrogant as to assume I could make any form of difference, I hear you ask dear reader? Well, in my family I've always been the go-between, the mediator if you like, who listens to all of the different arguments and then helps people decide what the most amicable solution is for all involved. I suppose it's no wonder as to why I did a journalism degree; I was simply playing to my strengths.

Yet, when you're faced with problems concerning mental illness there is no solution, no matter how great you're hope in medical science is. You're simply presented with a situation where the person involved is just going to get worse, and gradually they'll fade in to their own world until they finally sleep. What makes it a lot worse, and adds to the feeling of helplessness, is seeing the person involved as a shadow their former self. In this instance, it refers to my grandfather: a veteran of the Second World War, a man who stood up and fought for what was right, and a proud man who wouldn't suffer fools. Just don't let him watch any repeats of old Python shows, that's all. What was moving about visiting him though was the way in which my Gran held herself around him. It was wrenching to watch her as, whilst she knew that he wouldn't be getting any better, she still treated him as though everything was OK, and still offered him the same affection she always has. It was a display of dignity that really got to me.

This is especially the case when you view it in the context of my sister, who has just walked out of her (very new) marriage after thirteen months for someone else. I'm not sure whether she got bored, but when asked why she simply spouted some sub-Cosmopolitan, sub-feminist nonsense that involved the phrase 'skin crawl' and that, it seems, is that. Endgame. Another government statistic in the making. However, as with most things with my sister, it's only when you scratch the surface that you get a more rounded sense of what's going on, and that's a whole different can of worms.

So as a result, hope is short in relation to my family, and that's a shame as it's a concept I value greatly. Just one look at some of my favourite media reflects this: from the lyrics disclosed above, to the attention-grabbing title of iDLEWiLD's debut record (Hope is Important), to the title of one of my favourite bands (Hope of the States), it's always there. Hell, look at the end of Shawshank! The reason the conclusion is so euphoric, and moving, is due to the hope it offers. Now by hope, I don't mean the futile, religous-based definition of the word (i.e. I hope that God exists),. Instead I am referring to the kind of hope that is devoid of notions of 'belief': hope that things will get better, hope for a brighter tomorrow, and that good things happen to good people. The only problem is that when faced with the knowledge that things have to get worse before they can get better, its not always easy to keep that hope.

The above lyrics come from a track called Hope on R.E.M.'s sublime record, Up. If you ever get the opportunity, it's well worth a listen.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Terminus

So that was it. Terminus. However, there were no revelations that we onboard the leper ship, nor that everyone was going to die (for one reason or another), nor was there any mention of Lazar's Disease. Instead, there was a strangely moving, almost sombre, atmosphere to my departure in to the world of unemployment, and then, soon, in to the saving arms of academia. A few manly handshakes, a card with pleasent words dispersed inside, and some strong, inspiring words from my superiors, all made for an unexpected end to my days with directory enquiries. Whoever thought this retiring, nervy sf fan, with a habit of making stupid observations (often involving badgers) when in team meetings, could elicit such a response from people? In short, I never realised I meant that much to my peers. I always thought I was just a bit of wallpaper: turned up, fitted in, didn't draw attention to itself and was easily replacable. However, over the last few months I have come to feel as though some people in that place have helped awaken a certain part of me I never knew existed. A part of me that is confident in my own abilities, that recognises I'm not the tragic waste of space I always proclaim I am, and that I'm someone with the passion and motivation to go and do whatever I want. Yes, I'm still very much aware that, at the most basic level, I'm a pile of rotting organs; matter that was decaying from the moment it was awoken, doing so at a rate slower than that of animals but quicker than that of the universe. However, when we come to time, everything is relative. Anyways, for that I'm truly grateful, and there's always the leaving celebrations, even if they are two weeks away.

So where from here? Immidiatley, I'm needed elsewhere. What with the hurricane currently blowing through my family, I feel it's my duty to go home and try and steady the ship to the best of my abilities. I think that's a direct consequence of being a Whovian: the show gives you a great feeling of responsibility and morailty, of standing up, and trying to do the 'right thing', if such a thing can ever truly exist. For my parents, I think they could do with some irreverance to take their mind off things, and I know I'm the person for that, whilst with regards to my sister, I've gone from feeling that she's back to the person she used to be, to a feeling of just not knowing her at all, in the space of aproximately three weeks. Who knows, I may even once more encounter the Portreath of the Borough of Newton Abbot whilst I'm back! In all honesty, I never knew the place had a Portreath, nor that Newton Abbot was a Borough, but we all live to learn and strive towards enlightenment. Moreover, its all very Castrovalva. Yet, although I may be going back, in the words of the Bluetones, it's just for a short while. Moreover, whilst I am going back, I've lots of work to do. Subsequently, that can only mean one thing: they better have plenty of tea in.

"Up until this moment, I'd only ever wanted to see one thing: you naked. Well, that and Arc of Infinity, but at this precise point in time, Omega can wait."

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Too Long Awake

Its been a long week, and as I sit here on a Saturday night enjoying a glass of red wine and listening to B*Witched's C'est La Vie (we all suffer our vices), reflecting on how this track always seems to appear at strange points in my life (usually when drunk), I can honestly admit I'll be glad to see this week's demise. Its been both physically and emotionally draining: for some reason family and friends have a nasty habit of falling apart at the same time, and whilst I don't at all mind being the person people fall on, it'd be nice if it didn't all happen at once. However, if that's the state of play at the minute, so be it. As the current Coldplay track observes, "I'll try to fix you", the only problem is that I subsequently feel as though I've been too long awake. I'm not gonna go into all the details, mainly because I don't believe in disclosing everything all of time, but I just wanted to get a few observations I've come to this week out in the open. Some of them are blindingly obvious, but I wanted to make them explicit because I feel they should be said. Some are a bit more cryptic but hopefully the person(s) they're directed to will be able to decode. Here goes:

1. Contemporary Man is not supposed to work 50 hours a week, especially when this only invloves one trip to the pub.

2. It is unwise to drink four pints of Hoegaarden in one sitting, even if this is over a considerable period of time.

3. The Kinder Egg is not a suitable implement with which to impersonate Steve Harmison, nor any other members of the England Cricket team's bowling attack.
3a. Similarly, the packagaing of the Kinder Egg often lies to you. Not offering you a free SpongeBob, nor Patrick Starfish, nor any of the other characters, but instead granting you a small imp and a euphonium.

4. My housemates are f***ing great.

5. I feel closer to my parents when I'm further away from them.

6. No matter how sure you are about things they will always strive to prove you wrong, and often succeed in doing so.

7. Bad news always announces itself when you're in the company of people who were either involved, or around, the last time it said 'Hi'.

8. Saying 'Hello' to people you've come to long for usually results in rewarding, if brief, social interactions.

9. I will soon be on to my third pair of headphones this year. Is this my fault, or are they just badly made?

10. Despite making both iconic (Daydreamer) and impressive (Being Brave) contributions to the Britpop era, Menswear couldn't do vocal harmonies for toffee, and had trouble holding notes in the right keys at times.

11. The track Gay Bar by Electric Six is still very funny, even two years down the line.

12. Isn't it great when you misinterpret song lyrics. Only today I thought I heard a girl on the radio singing about fish eyes.

13. I'm a walking embodiment of the values of Public Service Broadcasting, as forwarded by the BBC especially.

14. Susanna Hoffs was, and still is, really hot.

15. Nobody has better sex than the people in your head do.

16. Anything involving the words 'everlasting', or 'magic', or a combination of the two, are falsifications. There are no such things in the world.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

The Brain of Morbius. And Coupland. And Me...

I really should write thoughts down when they come to me rather than almost twelve hours later, after going to work, a football match, and endless amounts of cleaning, so consequently this may go astray. Then again, these posts always do, so I don't really see the point in making such a statement. I always end up reading these posts back thinking 'Yeah, that's what you should've said' in my head. I digress. The point I want to make is that there's something big brewing: something I've been dwelling on a little recently and I just need to get it together in a coherent manner before I discuss it. It's rather philosophical, and epic, but watch this space...

In all honesty, today's been something of a non-entity: I awoke today, full of the joys of, err, late Summer (?), awaiting the pleasure of viewing the top-ten making Greatest Show in the Galaxy, only to be greeted by an episode of Dangerfield and a 30 minute clip show concerning 'The Best Who Monsters'. I mean, come on UK Gold! You were only a fortnight away from the end of the McCoy era! The show itself was alright, but it was mostly just the same old same old. I mean its good to see the old folks ambling around the stage, but its always the same guys! I mean, how many times do we have to see the Autons wreaking havoc on Ealing high-street? Yes, it's classic, but surely they could've mixed in some Terror as well? Ditto that with the Ice Warriors. Leaving out both of the Peladon stories is, quite frankly, careless! However, the show did leave me wanting to a) watch The Ice Warriors once more, and b) track down Seeds of Doom, Brain of Morbius and, strangely, Ark in Space. All that, and no Greatest Show means that I'm pining for a lot of different stories at the moment. Bet none of the unreleased above, nor Delta, ends up on the BBC release list for next year. One of the main saving graces of the formerly mentioned show though was the joy in realising Tom Baker was wearing a jacket similar to the one I recently purchased. Oh yeah! I'm slowly becoming like one of my idols, probably because I don't want to become myself.

It was strange Morbius should be featured in the programme, seen as though the word 'Morbius' has been running through my head a lot as of late. I don't know why this is; I just seem to go through stages when certain words appear in my conscious, and I just want to blurt them out at random intervals, just to get them out there and see how people react. Anyways, I ended up sketching Dear Morbius on a piece of paper at work this morning, much to the disgust of the woman sat next to me. I don't think she knew what it was, and I wouldn't blame her for being scared. The character itself is quite grotesque. Then again, that's probably why I like him.

In relation to work, I thought this resignation thing would feel different to what it does: after weeks of being told how valued you are, reaction has been very subdued. Now, I didn't want any kind of fuss or fanfare, not in any dimension. However, it'd have been nice to have been able to explain the reasons behind it, and keep a few options open, instead of just 'Right, ok then. Off you go'. Similarly, in myself, I thought I'd feel a mix of joy and relief. Instead its just boredom and accenuated frustration. The only saving grace for today's shift was the fact that I saw the rather lovely (x) that I've been admiring from afar for the first time in ages. Typical me though, I did my usual and said nothing to her. Instead, I just got a strange wave of nerves inside telling me not to say anything stupid, and with that the moment passed. I should've asked her where she'd been, but that'd have probably come across as a bit wierd and stalker-ish. I'd like to turn around to her and say something along the lines of 'Hey, look, I'm leaving this place soon and I'd really like to take you out for dinner, or a drink, or a movie sometime as I think you're pretty, err, pretty, which is probably why I've never said anything to you for ages, since I have this horrible habit of saying really stupid things in front of people who make me nervous, such as you. So what do you think?' but I know she'd just look at me as though I'm wierd. Having said that, she's probably been away for ages as she's been getting married, or had some serious illness, or something similar, and subsequently would make an excuse similar to that, smile sweetly, and forget me as quickly as the news broadcast she heard on the radio that morning.

And so in the above, we hit upon one of the internal questions I eternally struggle with: when is the right time to risk looking like an idiot, and admit your feelings? Or is it better just to ignore these thoughts and stumble around in life until, as people always tell you, someone stumbles into you? Thus, we hit upon one of my Big Questions in life: how can you be sure?

Bloody hell, we've gone deep, and that's not even what I was going to go deep about. Sorry if all of this seems a bit whiney but, as Coupland rightly observes, of all of society's taboos, loneliness is the most taboo of them all. I just wish I was as good at describing it as he was. Unfortunately though, that's one person I'll never get close to immitating.

Monday, August 29, 2005

A Plea to Deaf Ears


As I sit here listening to some b-sides from the last few singles, I really wish that Idlewild would re-release their current album acoustically, as the tracks work so much better. The version of El Capitan is sublime, whilst Love Steals Us From Lonliness, with its mournful cello, is simply haunting. If they're not going to, and in an age when albums are re-released all the time I think it'd be a missed opportunity, then if anyone knows where I can get a bootleg of their acoustic tour earlier this year, I'd be very grateful.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

The Emancipating Capabilities of Technology?

Can I just start by saying, and I don't get the opportunity to say this that often, well done to my beloved Exeter City, you've made me proud. I'm wearing my shirt with great hope today, hope for the rest of the season and that we may go one way whilst those other idiots go down. No offence to the Conference, the matches I've seen have been better than a number of the old Third Division matches I saw us play, but it'd be nice to be 'Exeter City of the Football League' once more. Anyways, to come back from 1-0 down away from home, against a fancied side, and win is a great show of character. Let's hope it continues for tommorow against that bastion of footballing excellence that is Forest Green Rovers.

That aside, its been a tirsome weekend: 21 hours worked over three days, coupled with a disastrous encounter with modern technology have left me rather worn out. And to think it could've all been so much better! I'm happy to report that in the last year I've gotten over my technology issues, mainly due to my good friend, and pirate, Christopher Rodway who has shown me just how irrational my fears actually were. However, it's noticable that this encounter happened whilst he was away. The occurance was due to my need for a new printer; technology has progressed over time and subsequently my old one doesn't speak to the now-downsized Cyber Tomb. So gleefully I marched to PC World, spending a good amount of time weighing up a) what suits my needs, b) what I can get some money off and c) what looked a little sexy. I finally settled on a little gizmo that not only prints, but scans and photocopys as well! Fear not though dear reader, an encounter with my arse it will not be getting, no matter how drunk I get. I mean try explaining that to Customer Support. However, after looking like a right prat at the checkout, by managing to pick up the only box not corresponding to what I was looking for in a pile of what I was, I eventually got home and began to set up said device. However, it doesn't work. Not even after the fourth attempt of setting it up. Instead it's sat here, at my feet, smirking worse than Micheal Howard in last year's General Election campaign. What makes it worse is that a) sodding Hewlett Packard don't provide any form of support number, aside from a website that tells you exactly what the set-up brochure does, and b) I spent a good ten minutes on the phone to PC World, doing everything I've previously done once more, only to be told 'Nah mate, I think you've got a faulty piece of hardware'. Well done sir. Keep it up and the people at Nobel will be on to you with an award. It's no wonder people get so agitated...

Anyways, 'How was Friday night?', I hear you enquire, dear reader! Well, the pizza was good, the Dalek was even better, and the wine was cheap. I, however, was rubbish: after Who had finished, I was asleep within five minutes, only to be awoken about an hour and a half later by the dulcit sounds of MTV. I didn't even get as far as the Ghost Light DVD. Oh yeah, and you'll never guess which song said channel was playing when I awoke... Yes, it was Mariah sodding Carey's We Belong Together. If this happens once more, I'm taking a restraining order out against the bloody song.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Speed of Time

Ugh, Devon seems a long time ago, even though it really was only a matter of days. The trip itself was great: there was laughter, there was strangeness, there were reunions, there was some picking at old scars, there was Exeter City sitting comfortably at the top of the Conference with Torquay bottom of their league, there were conversations with random strangers, there was a worryingly large amount of dancing and there was the strange realisation that some things/people/events are bigger than you, and can affect you in ways that make you very nervous. Eitherways it seems like, well, an experience a million miles away...

I look forward to tomorrow evening, when I can collapse with a pizza, a bottle of wine and the BBC3 repeat of Dalek. That'll keep me going during another ten hour shift. After that I'll probably fall asleep seen as though I find it hard to stay awake after 10pm, and asleep after the witching hour. Maybe its all those Demons I've been watching recently. That's definately become one of my fave words at present: Demons. Its even replaced 'Hellbeasts' as the preferred way of descrbing all things nasty. It just implies so much: from psychological states to tacky Dario Argento films, via Super Furry Animals songs, in one fowl swoop. Hurray for Demons!

Told my employer I'm leavin today. It was like Hiroshima in a call centre.

Cyber Control's songs of the moment:

Editors - Blood
Simple Minds - All the Things She Said
The Strokes - What Ever Happened?
Coldplay - Fix You
Beck - Girl

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Plans and Schemes

As I sit here about to write the (probably, unless something amazing, or tragic, happens) last post before I return back to Devon to revel in the glory of my home town, I'm truly stuck for ideas. There's so much I could talk about, and yet, at a personal level, there seems so little. No one really wants to hear me slag off my job anymore. What's more in that respect, I've only got about four weeks before I leave and so feel a bit stupid moaning about something that's coming to an end. The main problem with that situation is, as with relationships, I seem to feel that if things are dying, why stay around to drag them out? Why not save the face of both parties involved and end it there and then? I suppose they really are two different things, but that's just a thought. On a different note related to work, why do you always spend the day with really appauling songs stuck in your head? I mean, there are perfectly good current offerings from Bloc Party and The Rakes that I could easily spend the day humming, but instead I seem to be left with two absolute hams. One is Mariah Carey's We Belong Together, which is played blanketly across all music channels after 11pm at nite, the other being some abortion of a track featuring the line "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" Well, judging by your video dear, no. I don't. You're not exactly Scarlett Johanson yourself. What I'd give to spend the day with a bit of Phil to hum along to. Maybe Follow You, Follow Me or Turn it On Again. Magic.

So what have I really been up to recently? Well, a little bit of soul-searching in respect to the usual Big Themes I like to muse on. However, I have also got back into writing some music over the past couple of weeks. Something I haven't done since the failed project Krycek disbanded about this time last year. Ah, Simon, we could have done so much. Well, at least been something other than another Nirvana tribute act in the Devon music scene. We'd have been a Radiohead one instead! Anyways, I've so far developed two tracks pretty well, calling them For Your Amusement... and Scarlet respectively. If I had to describe them, I couldn't because I'm crap like that. Imagine if Brian Molko and Billy Corgan watched some Who and then wrote some lyrics, whilst Idlewild, Suede, REM and Radiohead jammed in the background, throwing in some heavy-riffing at certain points as well. Think that's the My Chemical Romance influence coming through. In short, it's intense, and epic, but you wouldn't expect anything else from me, would you dear reader?

It's funny I should end up writing about stuff I've been writing, because looking back over the years, the amount of ideas, plans and projects I've conceptualised, but never seen through, is quite outstanding. For example, there was the Don't Waste Cake campaign of 1999, that saught to do away with wasted cake in bakeries. Then, more recently there was The International Language of Doing Nothing Well, which was supposed to be a way for all people, like myself, who felt a bit worthless to communicate with. This soon evolved into another small idea for the apathetic, titled The International Language of Doing Nothing, Well. Isn't it great what you can do with a comma here and there. Completely changes the focus of a sentence, and hence the scheme, doesn't it? It truly is wonderful the differences in meaning you can portray by just altering one word in a sentence. There was an exhibit about this at Tate Modern recently. Unfortunately, I didn't get to go but I bet it was ace.

I'd just like to think that some of current projects, or ideas, don't go the same way that Krycek, and all of the above, did and end up in the bin. It'd be nice if either my drama series (I'll Hate you Next September), my music (The Infinity Loop), or one of my Who stories ended up out there. I think the problem is, I get in the habit of thinking that what I'm doing is both pointless and crap, and so just leave it to rot away. I don't quite know how to get over these constantly creeping doubts. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be more than grateful. I'm bursting with so much creativity that it needs to find some form of outlet!

Fuck Dance, Let's Art

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Taking Back Sunday

A strange realisation has come over me the last few days, well, since last Sunday if we're looking to be precise. However, it occurred to me on the said day exactly how much I miss not having Sunday to myself. Now, I never used to do anything of great consequence with them anyways. In fact, when I was back in glorious Devon, I was quite often working, but that was only for a few hours. Yet whilst at Uni, Sunday really came into its own. Sunday was always an excuse for an early start, a lot of reading, the possiblity of a football match in the afternoon, and then the Union pub quiz in the evening. In short, they were a day for relaxing and doing stuff you enjoyed. Jesus, you can tell how much of geek I am, I actually enjoyed studying at Uni. Then again, I always stand by the statement you should study what you enjoy rather than what you're good at.

Anyways, my point is this: Sunday's are for doing things, even if that involves doing very little! At least your doing something! If you're simply watching Dawson's Creek, you're still doing something as you're endulging in the act of viewing. Sunday is not a day for being sworn at by members of the public. Sunday is not the day for trying to decode what the hell people in Leeds are trying to say. Sunday is not the day to be working a ten hour shift. Now, I'm in no way suggesting some regression back to biblical times, when people had to attend some organization for fear of being burnt alive, or having one of their children sodomised by a local 'dignitory'. Surely we went through the Enlightenment for something, after all? No. I'm suggesting that for one day a week, contemporary culture just finds an 'off' switch. Surely we can go one day without words such as 'Customer Service', or 'Mobile Phone', or both, needing to be uttered? Surely we all deserve one day where everyone just goes "Sod it. I'm going to read a book" or something?

So this Sunday, when I'm indulging in the unsavoury occasions outlined above, I know a big part of me will be yearning for (less than comfortable) wooden bench, with good friends, a drink or two, dogs running in the park and a sudoku that I won't even look at for the simple reason that I always mess them up. I'll long for a crappy tabloid, where you can colour in the letters of headlines to make new ones that seem more interesting, whilst listening to acoustic-rock music and smiling nervously at waitresses who may or may not be looking in your direction.

Come on people, join me. Lets turn the world off for a day. It moves quick enough as it is! So before this idea itself becomes redundant, why not act? I'll see you in Terra Nova, where the toilets are badly labelled and the cocktails are embarassingly named. Make mine a peroni...

Monday, July 25, 2005

Downside on the Up

I feel slightly apprehensive in writing this post, especially in light of the previous one, as it's necessary to gauge the right tone. After the downward focus of my previous musings, it would be wrong for me to turn around and pretend that that was just a blip: me having a bit of a 'bad day' if you will. The truth is I'm probably not OK, not feeling all that together, but that certainly doesn't mean I'll be doing anything stupid. I apologise if I gave that impression. So whilst I currently find myself in a dark place, it's worth noting that there is always light in dark places, even if it's the mearest flicker. Thus, without getting all Bono/Amnesty International, it's always necessary to keep a sense of hope. The only problem I have is that whilst I have hope, it's usually outweighed by pessimism on a ratio of about 1:3 against.

What do I accredit this to? Well, I can't help but thinking that part of it comes from the music I listen to, and the outlook I've developed from that since a young age. You see, I've always been a follower of the indie/ rock scene, and always especially been a fan of the epic, string-drencehed, mournful ballad of which The Verve used to be such fine purveyours. Furthermore though, I've always truly valued songs, and artists, that are genuine, or honest if you like. One of the reasons I hold R.E.M. in such high esteem is you can always tell the genuine emotion behind both Michael's lyrics and delivery, and the fact that the music adds to the sense of melancholy inherent in them. It's the same with the music of Neil Finn and Crowded House, you can tell the honesty of the emotion in the songs being played. However, the main problem I've always had with the music scene I so adore is the drunken, sing-along crowd who, in my (perhaps rather shallow?) opinion, appear to have little connection to the sentiments being portrayed. I mean come on! How can a townie possibly relate to something like Losing my Religion, Falls to Climb or Snow Patrol's Run? As a result, I always try to understand where these songs 'come' from, and attempt to relate to that either via hyperthetical situations or real-life experiences. I suppose at the end of the day, I truly value honesty, and things that are genuine, and so want myself to be reflected in the music, and art, I consume. Perhaps this is the part of me that needs to regenrate? But in doing so, how can I possibly keep a hold of the things that I so value? Or perhaps I just need to stop wearing 'being a fan' on my sleeve so much?

Sorry, this has gone all 'Me Me Me' again, hasn't it? I do apologise, dear reader. Thank you for returning to this humble page and sticking with it. I also apolgise that the updates haven't been that often recently. The truth is I've been downsizing: moving out of Cyber Control to the smaller, yet more portable, Cyber Tombs of Telos. In short, I've bought a laptop and am in the process of transferring files across. This then explains why the Brighton photos are yet to be uploaded; the necessary programme is still on the old computer, you see! Fear not though, once things have fully changed over, I'll be sexing this place up better than a US Presidential Intellegence document. You see, it's not acid, it's a wicked sense of humour!

I watched a terrible film at the weekend: Van Wilder. I don't know why I watched it, I think it was the only thing on television at the time, and the lure of Tara Reid was also helpful. I think she's something of a modern day Jenny Agutter: a guarantee of an opportunity for a male to admire the female form, therefore momentarily filling the holes in his own life. Anyways, the film was crap. Sure, they made Ms. Reid's 'boyfriend' utterly dispicable, but the other guy was just as bigger loser as well! He was your typical 'Hey, I'm an easy going, slacker-type who just gets drunk and makes silly quips all the time' character. I mean, come on! What's wrong with a bit of depth to these characters? Rather than the usual 'Boy meets Girl' scenario, why not add in a few emotional scars to pick at? Or maybe some death? Or maybe something off-the-wall, such as the occult, ghosts or doppelgangers? You see, that's what makes Donnie Darko.

Finally, there's much in the world of Who that needs addressing at present but, unfortunately, now is not the time. What with new episode titles announced, new cast members and, most importantly, new press photos showing David Tennant wearng what appears to be one of my suit jackets! However, this week could be rather hectic, what with work and social engagements over the weekend, so these will have to wait a little. In the words of a sadly-forgotten classic from the Britpop era, this weekend "we'll go out tonight and breathe, a little deeper", and in such instances there's always hope; hope for the opportunity to laugh, to forget, and maybe to meet someone special. However, there's still always the doubt that comes with this, and you know how big that can be.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Damaged Goods

It has come to my attention over the last week or so that I am not quite myself, with this being brought to a head this evening when one of my housemates expressed that they thought I've been this way for a long time. Truth is, I'd sensed it myself as well: only yesterday I was chatting with a good friend I hadn't seen for a long time and it felt as though, well, I didn't have anything to say. I feel as though people have stories to tell, conversations to indulge in, concerning all manor of things, whereas I seem to be unable to be drawn into these situations. The responses I make are really dull, but conversly when I try to make a conversation its always about something really dull. In short, it seems lately as though if I can't make some strange quip in relation to a film, tv show or band, then I can't hold a conversation at all. Thus, if it's not the Daleks then I'm not good. Otherwise, if people are talking about something serious (i.e. politics), I seem to have a nasty knack of saying something completely abstract that subsequently destroys the conversation.

What worries me the most is that one day I'm gonna turn around and realise that, contray to the old adage that "No man is an island", I've done a bloody good job in becoming one. I'll be the guy who lives on his own and gets the occasional visitor from x and their partner, who politely inform you about the wonderful time(s) they're having, and when asked the question of "So what have you been up to?", I'll just reply with, "Oh you know. This and that", which actually means nothing because I'm so isolated the only company I have is four walls and myself.

More alarming to me is the way that I can't seem to be able to strike up a conversation with anyone. If people come up to me and start talking then I'm fine. Overtly pleasent, I suspect. But for me to go and talk to someone? Woah, that's another cup of tea! I just don't know what to say to people. With blokes, I know you're gonna get some quippy put-down as a reply and I'm not quick witted enough to think of anything suitable as a retort. Couple in the fact that my sense of humour doesn't revolve around being mysoginistic and talking about sex, and we hit upon part of the problem. Whereas with women? Don't even go there. You see, I've come to the realistaion that, after many years of attempting to enter in the dating game, I'm really not attractive to the opposite sex. Granted, I mean, who really wants to date a weedy Whovian with mild obssesive-compulsive disorder? This then hits upon other problems I have if, and only if, I meet someone I like: I come across as rather intense. This is due to the fact that I rationalise things far too much and if I meet someone I like, I don't see the point in all this Dancing around the Houses. I just tend to think that life is short enough, and the moments that people share can be rather brief, so what's the point in wasting these moments? Now, this could be a direct result of the problems I've had with dating in the past, namely that every girl I seem to be interested in goes off with someone else. Hence, another reason why I think I'm dull. Moreover, if, and again if, I do manage to talk to someone I can come across as rather smug and cheesy. This is because I don't know what to say to keep conversations going.

Consequently, we move on to another reason why I'm feeling pretty low at the moment: all I seem to think about is myself. I've lost contact with so many people, probably due to being miserable, and spent so much time with myself as of late that the only person I really think about is me. Now by admission, I'm not a great fan of my own company, so you can imagine the downward spirals that entail. I keep thinking, no hoping, that this will end; that someone will smash into my life and wake me up. Show me a few things I've never seen before, help me feel a few things I've not felt before, or for a long time at least, and at the end of the day, help me feel a bit more human. The way things are at the present, I can only see one end result: a big wooden box in about 40 years or so, and if that's all that's ahead, then why not simply accelerate the process? After all, I may regenrate into something better?

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Don't Go Back to Athens

Crikey, I can't believe it's been over a week since I last mused on my inconsequential existance here. The truth is that so much has happened over the past week,I haven't had the time to update this site. As a result, things are gonna get a bit sketchy, as I'll have to cover things that happened after others as it'll take any age for me to manipulate all the photographs regarding my trip to Brighton. Consequently, we'll have to rewind to Sunday, instead of Saturday, and tackle the appearance of R.E.M. at the Millenium Stadium instead.

I always thought Sunday was gonna be a good day. After all, its not every day you get to see your favourite band play live, and it's always extra-special when its your first time, if you pardon the expression. Anyways, I was a little surprised to be awaken by my friends at 0930 in the morning. However, it's a marked improvement on the time achieved by Savage, when he appeared on my doorstep at 0805 a couple of weeks ago. I think its something to do with the air in Devon, making people get up early. Either that or they're really eager to get out of Devon (or perhaps that should be see Yours Truly?). Now, its never a sensible idea to have ice cream for breakfast because, although thoroughly pleasant, it isn't really that substantial. Couple that with the fact that it freezes your brain easily, and it became evident I was going to be rather silly for a couple of hours, as proven by the little aside into why the ice cream company parted company with Mr. Whippy as a mascot. It was, for those interested, for thoroughly sinister reasons...

After an interesting experience in a Toby Carvery, reading Nietszche whilst drinking cider in a Welsh pub overlooking a Safeway, I eventually found myself heading towards the beginning of the concert and inside the Millenium Stadium. Unfortuantely, I couldn't resist telling people that this was where Dalek was filmed, and I secretly harboured desires to start running around shouting 'Exterminate' at people. I'm such a child. Eventually things got down to business as, after enduring one support act that consisted of a guy and an acoustic guitar (not that impressive and a bit depressing in all honesty), iDLEWiLD finally made their way on to the stage. Now, I was a little disappointed about this since I thought they'd be on just before R.E.M., but in hindsight I was glad they weren't. The problem was that they just looked bloody nervous, especially Roddy. Now I know Roddy is one of the shy, retiring, poetic types, but where was the guy who threw himself around Cardiff Uni Great Hall eighteen months ago? Aside from that, they were bloody good, playing an almost 'Greatest Hits' set with Little Discourage and American English obvious highlights and a welcome cover of Sweet Home Alabama featuring Mike Mills on keyboards.

By the time Messers Stipe and Company appeared on stage, I was getting even more jumpy than usual. Granted, I'd already managed to scare certain members of the party with my over-enthusiastic enjoyment of iDLEWiLD, so it was with great vigour that I jumped to my feet during the first few chords of Bad Day. This joy was only scuppered when told to 'Sit down' by the old couple behind me as they couldn't see. OK, they probably hadn't paid £40 a ticket to watch my Tom Baker wig jig up and down for two hours, but neither had I paid £40 to sit and clap politely at the Greatest Band in the World. After all, R.E.M are a rock band, playing a rock concert, so isn't it just right to want to rock? Its almost there in the title of the event, isn't it?

An obvious highlight was the fact they played Strange Currencies, my absolute fave track that they'd only played once throughout the whole tour, and couple that with an extra poignant Everybody Hurts in light of the London attacks and a beautifully intimate Nightswimming and you had a supreme gig all round. It's been previously identified by journalists that one of the great things about R.E.M., and Michael especially, is their ability to be both ballsy and vulnerable at the same time, and this was apitomised in Stipe's energetic performance, causing the stripe of make-up across his eyes to crack and run across his face. OK, if appearing in a Welsh rugby shirt and celebrating Brains SA was playing to certain members of the crowd ever-so-slightly, it only goes to show how good the band really are: willing to push the right buttons to acknowledge little cultural differences. So whilst Michael played the rock-star, his voice showed why I view him as the best singer around, largely due to the fact he doesn't just sing tracks like they are on the record. Instead, his voice seems to be capable of ascending to new levels in the live performance that only add to the emotion of the songs. Back this up with Buck and Mills' wonderful backing and you had something bordering on the sublime. The set list in full was:

Bad Day
What's the Frequency, Kenneth?
The One I Love
Drive
The Outsiders
Animal
Strange Currencies
Wanderlust
So Fast, So Numb
Leaving New York
Everbody Hurts
Electron Blue
Electrolite
(Unknown Track)
Final Straw
Orange Crush
Walk Unafraid
Losing My Religion

Immitation of Life
The Great Beyond
Exhuming McCarthy
Nightswimming
DJ
Man On the Moon

Right, just gotta find a minidisc to recreate the live experience!

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Am I an Alien? Or am I Simon Le Bon?

I've been thinking a lot recently about the concept of identity, and the ways in which people construct themselves. After all, we all do it, from the clothes we wear to the words we speak and the manner in which we speak them! These thoughts have been brewing in Deep Thought for a while now, finally coming to a head on the way to Sainsburys this morning. I don't know why my brain works so well when in motion, but it just seems to be that way. Perhaps I should do my job in one of those chairs they use to test the potential ability of astronauts with. You know the ones, like they try to kill Bond with in Moonraker? It ceratinly might make the day go a bit quicker, whilst also being a potentially interesting experiment into relativity at the same time.

Anyways, my thoughts with respect to identity largely stemed from my percieved inability to connect with people, especially people of my own age. I don't know why, but when people seem to be having some form of crisis I'm usually stood there going "Oh for goodness sake, it's only (insert event here). Hardly the end of the world, is it?" Thus, whilst others seem able to offer supportive words or gestures, I feel awkward and unsure of what to do. There's a great moment that captures this well in the Hitchhikers movie when, as Ford and Arthur are about to be thrown out of the Vogon airlock, Ford turns to Arthur and asks "Would you like a hug?!" as though he's not really sure how humans work in situations such as this. What do I put this ineptitude down to? Well, I mainly put it down to my interests and the people I admire. It's always been observed that one of the best things about Tom Baker's performance as the Doctor was his ability to speak lines of grave or macabre importance with a huge grin on his face. As a result, this is something I've always found interesting: playing with the expectations people have and subverting 'norms'. As a result, more often than not, I do say things that are ultra-serious or profound with a huge grin on my face, to see how people take them. An action which is made all the more unnerving for those involved since I don't tend to smile that often.

Moreover, my 'alien' qualities are evident in other areas of my 'self' as well: for instance, I remind myself of my 'Cybermen' qualities when approaching people. I don't tend to show that much emotion about very often, as shown in the above example, but also in regard to such things as 'hugging'. Like Ford, I never seem to know the times when this is an exceptable action and so tend not to endulge in the action, thus reinforcing my 'Cyberself' since I tend to shy away from physical interactions with people. If you couple that with the fact that I'm hideously logical, boiling anything down to the most rational way to go about things, it's not suprising I admire the Cybermen so much. Additionally, I think I can be quite alien in the amount of acid I seem to have running through my veins. Surely it's not healthy for someone to have such a cynical, scathing opinion on everything? Especially at this age? It was often remarked that I could be unnecessarily harsh about people/events whilst at school, but aren't you meant to lose that?

Yet, despite all of my 'alien' qualities, there's still a part of me that yearns to be Simon Le Bon, singing songs about commiting ladies to celuloid whilst riding yachts and drinking silly-coloured cocktails. All of this whilst being exceptionally well dressed and surrounded by mysterious women. This is also the part of me that loves being hideously flamboyant and eccentric (much like The Doctor actually!), whilst revelling in the cheesiness of things and knowing that your being hideously cheesy at the same time. I also admire the fact that amidst all this cheesy decadance, Duran Duran manage to construct themselves as 'serious' musicians that spend ages fretting over chord changes and lyrics. Or do I admire Simon Le Bon for the simple fact that he manages to project the image that he's a hit with the ladies? Or perhaps, at the end of the day, I do just really like Duran Duran's music?

As a result, what does this say about my opinion of myself? A once human, probable New Romantic, Time Lord who has sacrificed his body parts and emotions for cybernetics and cold logic, and that has a strange hybrid of acidic blood which boils over occasionally? All of this whilst being smartly presented and a bit of a pretensious arse?

Alternatively, is this all in my own delusional head? Have I really got the wrong impression of myself, and the way I construct myself to others? Does the fact that I seem to spend so much time thinking about this make me hideously self-obssesed? Damn post-structuralism and autoethnography! They give me too much to think about, as I seem to apply these principles to everything and everyone, thus leading me to my big question: if we live in a world of discourses, where all is culturally constructed, how can we do anything that is genuine?

Countdown:

Days left at work: 70
Days until The Christmas Invasion: 5 months and 19 days (approx.)
Days until Jessica Alba in a catsuit: 17

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Music Plus One

It's frustrating when time just seems to disappear and you never get the things done that you wanted to. It's also frustrating when you spend most of your time dithering around trying to remember what the hell it was you wanted to do. Furthermore, it's frustrating when your sister telephones you in the middle of Cardiff with "important news", only to gloat that she's off to see Oasis tomorrow and that you could have come but, oh yes, you're working. However, none of this probably comes close to the sheer tragicness of trying to organize your shopping with the time(s) the attractive cashier is likely to be working in Sainsbury's. Who says us SF fans have nothing to think about and have slight stalker-esque character traits, eh? Last time I was in there, her name badge said 'Gareth'. I really should have made a joke of this, but then again I'd have probably come across as a bit of an idiot. Anyways, if that is her name, it's a bit of a turn-off.

In the absence of much Who to think about, my attentions have turned back towards music, and it was much to my surprise when the other nite I finally started to make some inroads into my Dire Straits songbook. Sharp intake of breath I know. Why, dear sentient beings, do I own a Dire Straits book? Well, a) it's for Brothers in Arms, which I view as one of my favourite albums of all-time, and b) it's pretty complicated! One of the main problems I have with buying indie bands music books is that they're all pretty standard three or four chord runarounds with the occasional nice twist. The exceptions to this rule being the Bluetones and Idlewild, who seem to like to do things a bit differently. I'm yet to assess bands like Razorlight, Kasabian etc on these criterion, but watching them play live it seems they're more about attitude and ambiance than wierd timings and playing in odd keys. Yes, you could probably level exactly the same criticism at the Killers, but the bands formely mentioned haven't written anything as glorious as Mr Brightside or All These Things That I've Done.

On the subject of new bands though, I've stumbled across a couple of oddities. Firstly, there's My Chemical Romance, who seem, by their videos and press, to be the kind of band that I should have gotten over whilst I was in puberty. However, I really like the singles by them and am considering their album. It could well be a case of Evanesence and Linkin Park all over again, as I always get "Dude, what are you? A sixteen-year old Goth?" when confessing to liking these bands. Granted, they'll probably never ascend to the heights of the House, or write a Distant Sun in that respect, but they're pretty scathing about contemporary society.

Secondly though, there's Hard-Fi. A band that, by their very look, should be the type of band that I instantly despise. Let's look at the evidence: they're from chav-centric Staines, their current single sounds like the kind of riff you dismisively bash out when having your first jam with a band, and their singer looks like a gimp whilst the rest of them are just wallpaper. Yet for some reason I like the track and I don't really know why. There's a certain simplicity about the whole thing, both musically and lyrically, that makes you think that maybe you're making your own life a little too hard on purpose. Bloody hell, I bet they never thought when they wrote the track it'd be used by somebody to assess their stance on life. Or am I just subscribing to the chav mentality?!? Ugh, the very thought makes my skin crawl! Whichever train of thought wins, whoever decided to include JD Sports in the video is just asking for trouble.

So, as I sit here desperatly trying to make my mind up what to vote for in the DWM magazine poll, I'm left with the following questions: Did I really enjoy Boom Town more than The Parting of the Ways, Dalek and The Doctor Dances? Do Father's Day and The Unquiet Dead deserve to be so low in the rankings? Who was better as a co-star: Simon Pegg or Shaun Dingwall? Were the Reapers better than the Daleks? And what did I really make of the trailers?

Decisions, decisions. Good job I've Senor Corgan's new opus to help pass the time...

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Reflection of Summers Past

"Pining for the moon/ and what if there were two
Side by side in orbit/ across the fairer sun?"

A favourite lyric from one of my all-time favourite songs. The kind of track that you want played at your funeral and that anyone who really knows you knows how much you love that particular track. It also seems relevant for the mood I've found myself in over the last couple of days, accenuated by a conversation I had with someone that went on to the small hours of yesterday evening. A slight lament for the past and a face you haven't seen for a little while but would like to in the near future. Yes, I'm feeling slightly reflective, but this is also probably due to the fact that I'll be encountering two good friends from Glorious Devon in the space of two days. As the mysterious "they" rightly observe, things happen all at once. Anyways, this has got me to thinking as to why we occasionally, or reguarly, look back to the past. Is it because we think that we've lost something, or someone, that meant something more to us than we realsied at the time? Or is it because we're so scared of what the future holds,and so would rather reflect on something that was safe? As Freud observed, it is the unknown, the uncanny, which is most horrific and perhaps that applies to many areas of life.

OK, Deep Thought off. Shall I condense this months DWM into a paragraph? No? Well, I'm gonna do it anyways. Series Two has two episodes with working titles: 'School Reunion' and 'Army of Ghosts'. So what do we gleam from that? Well, School Reunion would indicate to me that perhaps the Doctor takes Rose into the future, to see all her friends in ten or twenty years time. Not quite sure what the villany would be there, but perhaps there's something sinister working behind the scenes? Perhaps, Friends Reunited is actually run by aliens? As for AoG, well that sounds pretty epic, what with the word 'Army' in the title. So will the dead be rising from their graves in their hordes? Or perhaps it's a referance to ghosts from the past? Perhaps one character will have to face a number of faces from their history? Interesting...

Oh, and apparently my beloved Cybermen are in the directorial hands of James Hawes, who did The Empty Child and The Doctor Dances last year, which I'm pleased about. Slightly annoyed Mr. Harper won't be tackling them but nevermind. However, if this apparently forms Block One of shooting with The Christmas Invasion, does this mean we're gonna start the season with the guys? Two thumbs up from CyberControl if that is the case!

On a different note, I actually found justificaton for watching The OC this evening: George was making a cameo appearance. It's so much better than having to admit that, yes, you just want to ogle the lovely Rachel Bilson. Anyways, George's cameo was hideous. Instead of some profound musings on what inspires George, and where he got his ideas from, we get him musing on the importance of the American Prom and the cornerstones of American youth culture. Why George? Why? Anyways, I gotta hand it to that programme because, like Dawson's Creek before it, it may be hideously cliched and sickeningly saccherine, but the writing, story arcs, and characterization are so spot-on and well thought out that it deserves applause. The kind of things that the UK is really behind on in that respect. The episode wonderfully set up four or five narratives that occasionally inter-cut, but were satisfyingly resolved, with some original twists that at the same time left consequences for episodes still to come. That, I respect, or am I just seeking a way to justify a voyeristic appreciation of Ms. Bilson? Of course not, I'm a serious TV writer!

Finally, I'm getting worried I may have to invest in the new Coldplay CD. After four years of Chris Martin hating and generally dissing them for being overtly simplistic, I heard Fix You and again had to admit its ace. I'll still never retract my opinion on In My Sodding Place though.

"You/ I thought you knew me
You/ I can not judge"

Sunday, June 26, 2005


Dear readers, the lovely Holly. The future Queen of CyberControl, well, until someone real comes along that is.

One Week On

It just feels so empty. So crushingly, disappointingly empty. I had a perfectly pleasent day yesterday, enjoying witty conversation with my parents and having to come to terms with a tricky dilemma when tackling the HMV sale: when faced with two from the list of either contemporary, respected electronica, a collection of horror films that are so appauling they border on genius, or three CDs of Phil, which one would you, or could you, sacrifice? Unfortunately Phil was the loser this time around, but I hope it'll only be for a little. Throughout the course of the day though, I managed to go the majority without even thinking about it, as long as we don't count watching The Awakening at 8am on UK Gold and my minor frustration at the price of a certain DVD in the previously mentioned sale.

And then it hits you. Its about 1815 on Saturday evening and rather than being a bundle of nerves and expectations, eagerly awaiting 1900 and that familiar theme tune, you're instead left with nothing. Skidaddle. Zero. In fact, what you've got is some new lottery-related quiz show or something. So you sit there, and you rack your brains for something to do but nothing comes. In fact, do you know what I was doing yesterday at 1900? I was assembling a chair! Yes, me. Mr. Truly Dreadful at DIY (Tm) was trying to fill the void left in his life left by the absence of Who by assembling furniture. From speechless geek to a hyper-exertion of masculinity in seven short days. Who said SF fandom holds us back? Oh, and the final irony: who was I listening to whilst indulging in my seat-related shenanigans? Phil, that's who.

So, with less Who to talk about during this fallow period, my attention shall have to turn to other shows to either celebrate or berate. First up, I've been meaning to sing the praises of MTV's Wonder Shozen for a while now. It's superb! Imagine the sicklyness of Sesame Street done for the disaffected, left-wing liberals of today and played completely seriously. So you get such wondeful asides as kids chasing Bankers (and yes, the pun/innuendo was intended) down Wall Street asking if they feel guilty about selling people down the river. Or such informative sections as 'D is for Drive-by Shooting' or 'S is for Suicide'. Absolute genius.

Something I was much less impressed with was when I had the misfortune to wander momentarily on to ITV2 this evening. Now, my hatred of those three initials, 'I' 'T' and 'V' in that order, is well-known but if the mother channel is one huge, steaming turd then its lesser-known sister is surely the televisual equivalent of diarrohea: the waste of the waste. I'm happy to report that this thesis was backed up by stumbling across the show Man Versus Beast, and yes, its exactly as it sounds. Men are pitted in various challenges against animals, and what did I have the 'pleasure' of witnessing? Fourty-four midgets, sorry 'small people' for the sake of political correctness, challenged to pull a jumbo jet across a set distance quicker than an Asian Elephant. Yes, you read that correctly. The midgets against the Elephant. Unfortunately, the small people were defeated and, at the end, the Elephant looked rather smug about this. Like it knew what was going on! Granted, this show was American, and the presenter was wearing a jacket with Fox emblazened across it, which is litterally like having 'crap' written on something, but for goodness sake! More worryingly so, Man was 4-2 down to Beast bythe end of the show so obviously we aren't as intellegent as we'd perhaps like to think. I can't wait for the British version, it could well be the much-needed humiliation of the population of Kent! I'd imagine they're the type of people who'd watch such drivel.

Crumbs, its gonna be a long six months until The Christmas Invasion. I did have a great idea as to how they could start the episode though: since RTD's first announcement about the Christmas special was along the lines of "Don't worry, we're not gonna do a Lovejoy and go to Prague", why not have the pre-credits sequence with the TARDIS arriving in Prague and DT coming out to announce something like 'Oh, Prague! Why on Earth are we here?" and then roll the credits. It'd be an inspired joke for the fans and adult viewers!

Once more dear reader, in my head it's funny.