Yadda Yadda Yadda and More Chaff-Ridden Chat
Wow, I almost clattered into famous lesbitarian author Sarah Waters by Haymarket about an hour ago. She was speedy and she was carrying a Waterstones bag. This must mean she hates all independent bookshops and wishes them to die in the inferno of conglomerate and multinational dominance. For shame, Miss Waters. For shame. We know you sell too much to care, but the little men and women of the booktrade still need you.
What was truly scary was realising she was wearing the same black ensemble as on the front page of her official website. She must have the same imagination deficient stylist as Simon Cowell.
What I've Watched (I Thought I'd Mention It Anyway)
I was returning from seeing Junebug: a deadpan American indie film which has Ryan from The O.C with an appalling moustache and Will Oldham talking in a normal voice. Yes, that be I See a Darkness Will, who sounded like a New York waiter. But maybe that's the magic of movies and he really does like thoughts of perversion and death, while he preaches firestone and brimstone sermons with breath that smells of moonshine. For a second I thought he was the wee fella who looks like a ginger scrotum from that Burt Reynolds sitcom Evening Shade.
So if you see one film this year, go see The Squid and The Whale.
Yet I digress.
It had funny bits and a dollop of tragedy. It was good. Amy Adams was a firecracker. Which means she was loud, annoying and painful. Brilliant acting.
I also saw the Silver Jews on Monday: a deadpan American indie act with David Berman in his greasy black beard and a country band, one of whom was not Will Oldham who he had recorded his last album with.
It had funny bits (especially the hooker fart gag) and a dollop of Berman's aptitude for tragedy, whether real or imagined. The man has possibly the most evocative voice in American music, what with its motel and cigarette and bourbon tones. It was their 14th gig ever. He said this three times. We got the message. But there was something a bit weird. It was too celebratory and joyous. People were laughing like nutters for chrissakes! There should have been liquer bottles smashed over heads and a gunfight. And, perhaps, a lot of pitiful screaming. And the sound of the howling wind smashing against something. like a dead horse. Or, at least, there should have been a mix of the happiness and the sorrow. But audience members were smiling like freaking Smilex victims. That will not do.
I did tout it. Hanging around the internet cafe by La Scala until the prices drop like dresses in a place where ladies drop their dresses on a regular basis, does pay dividends.
Don't worry, I am going to write about quizzing. Right about now, my funk soul brothers.
End of Season
Thus with Stainer's stirring words the 2005-6 season endeth. Weird, I still keep thinking it's the year 2005. (I think: I can't believe it's 2006; I can still remember us losing out to Germany in the World Cup bidding process and now it has come to pass: many prostitutes will descend upon Deutschland and, you know, what they do ... normally hang out near where I live ... apparently):
"Last night saw the finale to the QLL season.
First up was the final of Brain of London. Jesse and Ian were both in the final four competing against perennial champion Kevin Ashman and Mike Billson. The game soon developed into a battle between Ian and Kevin with the players remaining within a point of each other throughout, and being level entering the final round. Unfortunately in the final round Kevin scored 2 points to Ian's 1 and hence won the game by the narrowest of margins - 13 to 12. Jesse finished 3rd with a very respectable 7 whilst Mike Billson got 4. Commiserations to Ian and Jesse, although getting to the final is a magnificent achievement in itself, while Ian's display on the night was superb. I'm sure for both it will be the first of many long runs in this competition.
So, the season ends and I think it can safely be said that this has been the breakthrough season for BHs. After the disappointment of our relegation from Division I a few years ago, this year we've proved beyond any doubt that we have more than the quality required to thrive in the big league. Sadly in the end it wasn't quite enough to win our inaugural title but I'm sure BHs will be back next and in future seasons."
So well done to Ian for running The Ashman so very close. And to Jesse for not coming last.
But I didn't go. I went to a pub quiz. A special pub quiz. More will be revealed after a few weeks, but let's just say I talked crap for a few hours and wondered at the rubbishness of the tone of my voice. It needs ... steroids, perhaps?
I have been wondering whether we should change our name. The melodrama of the nomenclature is getting to me. To the Heartbreakers? Then there's always We Will Crush You. How about The Monster Squad? No, The Gin-Gan-Goonies. Wait, The Titanic Transformers!!! No, I've got it: Sarah Water's Gang of Lesbitarians. Yes, that makes me happy. As happy as that girl in Tipping the Velvet after she has a wee-wooh with that lady and her peeetowwww. Hey, it's time for my medication. Til next time.
(I would do a BH quiz but it says "The disk media is not recognised. It may not be formatted", which is no good at all. This means all my quizzes are stuck back at home home and I will probably have to write a new one tonight. And I was going to spend the time reading Arena magazine and The Believer and unwrapping some new DVDs and CDs I bought with the help of a silky craft knife. Craft knife, I love you. But, the best laid plans of mice and me etc.)
What was truly scary was realising she was wearing the same black ensemble as on the front page of her official website. She must have the same imagination deficient stylist as Simon Cowell.
What I've Watched (I Thought I'd Mention It Anyway)
I was returning from seeing Junebug: a deadpan American indie film which has Ryan from The O.C with an appalling moustache and Will Oldham talking in a normal voice. Yes, that be I See a Darkness Will, who sounded like a New York waiter. But maybe that's the magic of movies and he really does like thoughts of perversion and death, while he preaches firestone and brimstone sermons with breath that smells of moonshine. For a second I thought he was the wee fella who looks like a ginger scrotum from that Burt Reynolds sitcom Evening Shade.
So if you see one film this year, go see The Squid and The Whale.
Yet I digress.
It had funny bits and a dollop of tragedy. It was good. Amy Adams was a firecracker. Which means she was loud, annoying and painful. Brilliant acting.
I also saw the Silver Jews on Monday: a deadpan American indie act with David Berman in his greasy black beard and a country band, one of whom was not Will Oldham who he had recorded his last album with.
It had funny bits (especially the hooker fart gag) and a dollop of Berman's aptitude for tragedy, whether real or imagined. The man has possibly the most evocative voice in American music, what with its motel and cigarette and bourbon tones. It was their 14th gig ever. He said this three times. We got the message. But there was something a bit weird. It was too celebratory and joyous. People were laughing like nutters for chrissakes! There should have been liquer bottles smashed over heads and a gunfight. And, perhaps, a lot of pitiful screaming. And the sound of the howling wind smashing against something. like a dead horse. Or, at least, there should have been a mix of the happiness and the sorrow. But audience members were smiling like freaking Smilex victims. That will not do.
I did tout it. Hanging around the internet cafe by La Scala until the prices drop like dresses in a place where ladies drop their dresses on a regular basis, does pay dividends.
Don't worry, I am going to write about quizzing. Right about now, my funk soul brothers.
End of Season
Thus with Stainer's stirring words the 2005-6 season endeth. Weird, I still keep thinking it's the year 2005. (I think: I can't believe it's 2006; I can still remember us losing out to Germany in the World Cup bidding process and now it has come to pass: many prostitutes will descend upon Deutschland and, you know, what they do ... normally hang out near where I live ... apparently):
"Last night saw the finale to the QLL season.
First up was the final of Brain of London. Jesse and Ian were both in the final four competing against perennial champion Kevin Ashman and Mike Billson. The game soon developed into a battle between Ian and Kevin with the players remaining within a point of each other throughout, and being level entering the final round. Unfortunately in the final round Kevin scored 2 points to Ian's 1 and hence won the game by the narrowest of margins - 13 to 12. Jesse finished 3rd with a very respectable 7 whilst Mike Billson got 4. Commiserations to Ian and Jesse, although getting to the final is a magnificent achievement in itself, while Ian's display on the night was superb. I'm sure for both it will be the first of many long runs in this competition.
So, the season ends and I think it can safely be said that this has been the breakthrough season for BHs. After the disappointment of our relegation from Division I a few years ago, this year we've proved beyond any doubt that we have more than the quality required to thrive in the big league. Sadly in the end it wasn't quite enough to win our inaugural title but I'm sure BHs will be back next and in future seasons."
So well done to Ian for running The Ashman so very close. And to Jesse for not coming last.
But I didn't go. I went to a pub quiz. A special pub quiz. More will be revealed after a few weeks, but let's just say I talked crap for a few hours and wondered at the rubbishness of the tone of my voice. It needs ... steroids, perhaps?
I have been wondering whether we should change our name. The melodrama of the nomenclature is getting to me. To the Heartbreakers? Then there's always We Will Crush You. How about The Monster Squad? No, The Gin-Gan-Goonies. Wait, The Titanic Transformers!!! No, I've got it: Sarah Water's Gang of Lesbitarians. Yes, that makes me happy. As happy as that girl in Tipping the Velvet after she has a wee-wooh with that lady and her peeetowwww. Hey, it's time for my medication. Til next time.
(I would do a BH quiz but it says "The disk media is not recognised. It may not be formatted", which is no good at all. This means all my quizzes are stuck back at home home and I will probably have to write a new one tonight. And I was going to spend the time reading Arena magazine and The Believer and unwrapping some new DVDs and CDs I bought with the help of a silky craft knife. Craft knife, I love you. But, the best laid plans of mice and me etc.)
posted by That Quiz Guy at 1:13 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home