In some ways I feel that I was lent this film as a sly joke. I was expecting something in the same vein as Little Miss Sunshine; its not so far from it, but sometimes your dark comedys can get too dark. This was like 90% coca. I’ll be honest: being 17, the film was painful to watch from a whole range of different angles that will bore you senseless. But I will say this: I got my wristband to the next decade and I will go to New York. From Woody Allen’s films to the blogosphere its the place. Fuck it, I might even dress up as Lou reed.
Also known as the Withnail theme tune. This song has a real sadness to it and I guess the video gives off a certain level of 60s nostalgia, fitting in perfectly with Withnail. It even puts a knot in my throat and I can’t remember the 60s, so I guess I was there.
Some guy has obviously come along, dressing like me, hanging out with my friends and then has hacked into my account, uploading pictures from his adventures.
Any pictures of me are not a fair representation. I’m so much better in my head, honest. I don’t want to be that guy on facebook. It’s a shit advert. It’s all just a case of mistaken identity. If we’re to be judged on how we look on facebook then we might as well just give up the chase of reproduction. Or maybe everyone will look so shit, the human concept of beauty will go down a notch and we’ll be more than happy to settle for pictures such as this.
Adam Green had a free gig on the other week, which I incidentally missed. They say you only miss something once it’s gone, and since I missed my chance I’ve been pouring over all the old shit of his I haven’t heard in about 2 years.
I never know if he’s good, or bad - but sometimes I need a hit.
I want you to imagine that every time you cum all you can see in your head is Liza Minnelli’s face.
Let’s be fair; for the first few moments it wouldn’t seem so bad. The euphoria of orgasm makes anything and everything beautiful. You could release your man juice all over a fruit bowl and be blown away by an avocado. Same story with Liza looking like Ursula-the-fucking-sea-witch.
The orgasm bit would be fine, but when you reached touch-down things wouldn’t be so pretty anymore. You’d start to spasm in self loathing, feeling dirty in the knowledge that you effectively just came over Liza Minnelli. She appeared into your head and there was nothing you could do – it was practically mind rape.
The whole thing makes you disgusted. Jeez, even the name makes me feel fucking sick. Minnelli? What the fuck is that? It sounds like a weird Latin fetish where they stuff cold spaghetti up someone’s fanny.
You can call this whole thing stupid, but you wouldn’t if you could see the faces of even a few of the eleventy-thousand red-blooded Americans who suffer from this strange phenomenon. Yes, it’s a little known problem, but raising awareness can make all the difference: we’ve got Elle Macpherson doing us a run in Newcastle; we’ve got Jeff Goldblum doing the TV spots – stopping people suffering in silence can change lives. Because you know what the worst part about all of this is? Men all around the globe don’t know that we have the medicine to treat them.
So what do I do? You may ask. You watch Cabaret and things start to change. You might start off with having to hold yourself from even considering Sally attractive in the film – it’s even more difficult because you know how the story ends up – she grows-up into Liza Minnelli. You have these inbuilt misconceptions that she’s hideous and that she makes you scared to have sex and so you can’t fancy her, but after watching the film, you see this beautiful girl with a boyish haircut and big pearly eyes.
“There’s something about Minnelli here, boys”.
You can watch the whole film on YouTube [here’s part one], just don’t tell anyone its there. The BBC recently did this documentary with Alan Cumming looking at the whole Cabaret story, which is up on iPlayer.
There’s a big book of Rockwell about somewhere - I remember trying to work out how he had got people so precise. Well now we know: he based it all on photos he had set-up. I recommend reading the gizmodo article this.
Not that any of you miserable fuckers sent out any search parties or anything, but I have been off.
You see the problem with tumblr is that its not very clear exactly what you are supposed to use it for - blogging, microblogging, nanoblogging - these terms are not real terms. Who made up these words? What gives someone the right to come along and make up words. I want to make up words - where’s the licensing.
So I’ve been shying away, but I have worked out that you post pictures with a theme or share gothic tales and sales here. Thats right, right?
Emily blunt has a fantastic cunt. Not my words 1.
She’s not even that attractive. It’s those eyes. There’s something about those eyes.
They say to me “Hey, I’ve seen everything. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I know exactly what you’ve got down there. You can’t hide from me now. You didn’t see me, but I definitely saw you. I’ll have a glass of something expensive, I’m sitting over there.”
