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Some girl's do
I bump in to the History of Art graduate. I haven't seen her in a few weeks: Stuff-u-Like being a sizeable operation, and me avoiding the Director's corridor on account of some patchy performance figures. Post pleasantries, she drops her boyfriend into the conversation the first chance she can get. Now, I've always been slightly irritated by this play, as it's terribly presumptuous. But my view has completely changed, it's genius; it's the male equivalent of "he's just not that into you" - a massive timesaver.
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2.12.06 21:19
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I'm out with the old team from BigCo. It's absolutely ludicrous, they spend more time catching up with each other than they do with me. Despite working in the same office, they've been reorganised so many times, they've completely lost touch. Half of them are exploring grievance procedures on some issue or other, all of them are looking for a way out. They spend most of the evening crying into their beers, before moping home to countdown until Monday morning. Leaving me and Miss Right, alone for the evening. Which should be excellent, but......The bar is frickin freezing. She's getting goosebumps, and not in a good way. I give her my jacket - there is something terribly alluring about a woman wearing your clothes. But in Miss Right's case it makes her look sweet, cute, and most worryingly, teenage! Any desire I had, now seems to be centred on making sure I don't keep her out too late on a schoolnight..... I put her in a taxi and head for the train
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3.12.06 14:03
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it's Christmas time....
and time for the release of the annual compliation CD. This selection will be dropping through people's mailboxes over the next few weeks. 01 Vashti Bunyan - Diamond Day 02 Wolfmother - Woman 03 Wombats - Lost in the Post 04 Klaxons - The Bouncer 05 Bromheads Jacket - What ifs and Maybes 06 Dirty Pretty Things - You Fucking Love It 07 Fratellis - Henrietta 08 Black Wire - Attack Attack Attack 09 Pigeon Detectives- I Found Out 10 New Cassettes - Televise This 11 Howling Bells - Setting Sun 12 Fields - Song for the Fields 13 Joan as Policewoman - Eternal Flame 14 Metric - Police and the Private 15 Nouvelle Vague - Ever Fallen in Love 16 Field Music - You're So Pretty 17 Good Books - Walk With Me 18 The Acutes - When I left Work Today 19 Tapes n Tapes - Cowbell 20 Brakes - You're So Pretty 21 Broken Social Scene - 74 Shoreline 22 New Young Pony Club - The Get Go 23 Shitdisco - Discoblood 24 Long Blondes - Weekend Without Makeup
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3.12.06 14:15
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Don't go over the water
I was amused by the hype surrounding Saw III - the tales to St John's ambulance men carting people out of the cinemas. But it got me thinking about the genre. The nihilism of Saw is very much reflective of the current mood; particularly in the States. As Iraq is this generation's Vietnam, Saw is this generation's Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Subsequent movies like Hostel, and the up and coming Turistas are even more explicit in their message - naive Americans visit foreign countries, and very bad things happen to them. Despite their schlock style, these movies resonate with the political shift in the US; returning to a more isolationist stance.
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6.12.06 23:00
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Office party
The party is industrialised yuletide - 1,000 plus revellers in a warehouse, decked out for the evening in some theme - Egypt, Siberia, Amazon whatever. The company makes it tolerable; the Stuff-u-Like crowd are so gosh darn nice. And friendly too - I'm propositioned by two young ladies. Now, to be fair, they made up for in enthusiasm what they lacked in looks, but an offer to "do us both" is not to be sniffed at. Sadly, an offer I was unable to take up - they're stretchered off by the paramedics before the main course is served. It was, the high point of our table's entertainment. I'm in the group of death. Not really having a team of my own, I'm stuck with all the social misfits who couldn't get a group together. All around me, fun is being had; but not here, across the icy steppes of conversation. Thankfully, service is quick and we're soon released to the dancefloor. For, what is customarily the aural equivalent of being gang-raped by vagrants - the Christmas DJ mix. The experience is eased somewhat by the sight of one of our new recruits making a complete tool of himself. Keen to impress the ladies he attempts his party piece (anyone who has a party piece....) a B-boy power move - which he fails to execute, miserably: medic! The corpsman do take some time to arrive, as the evening is rapidly becoming the Somme, with tinsel: pitched battles at the bar; trench foot in the carpark; young ladies in the toilets, swallowing much, much more than their pride.....
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10.12.06 15:41
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C30 C60 C90 Go!
We've all been there: the sudden start into wakefulness; the feeling that something is seriously wrong; that 2am realisation that you have not one solitary Skinny Puppy track in your record collection. And because of that, what point the collection - because you obviously hate music. But help is at hand with emusic.com Beware, to enter is to be lost forever.
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20.12.06 23:07
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Yes, but is it art...
All in all, not a bad day. My morning meeting just reaches the hour mark. So, once you factor in lunch and travel, it's hardly worth going back to the office, so I head off to the Serpentine Gallery. Getting off at South Kensington, it seems somehow churlish to bypass Waterhouse's magnificent Victorian Gothic. So, for about the first time in 30 years, I step inside. Unsurprisingly it has shrunk with the years, the Diplodocus, not quite as towering. But, away from the animatronic fripperies infesting the newer galleries; the dusty ranks of specimens lined up in their cases still have a nostalgic charm. So to the Serpentine, and Damien Hirst's collection. The surprise is not the paucity of the material - as fading artist morphs into bloodless patron - it's the dreadful curation. The Serpentine is not a space I like anyway, but I've not seen such cack-handed hanging. As to the art itself, it's all so terribly literal. No metaphor is left unlaboured; the art clamouring for your attention like stage-school brats. Saatchi probably didn't spend much more to fill County Hall, but the comparison is stark. Before the Momart fire, Saatchi had assembled a genre defining collection of the best of British contempory art; Hirst's got some investment pieces for his retirement fund. Then to Oxford St, for the, oh so very now, Stanta's Ghetto. It's a happening, as art directed by Nathan Barley. The sheer effort of cool drips from the walls. I can't help but think that a well placed nail bomb would go a long way to thinning out the Hoxton Twat population.
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21.12.06 23:30
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