Right, that’s enough bollocks for one day. I’m off to a Chanukah party.
Year: 2001
Musical Juxtapositions…
Putting all your favourite songs onto an iPod throws up a few interesting juxtapositions. You’re happily wandering through Clerkenwell listening to The Sisters of Mercy in a kind of retro-bohemian, Berlin goth style and you’re feeling quite self-satisfied in a homo superior “doesn’t get enough sun” kind of way, and then Randy Crawford explodes into your ears with a heavy dose of Street Life. I’m just saying it’s strange, is all. Not bad.
Strange songs on my iPod:
- Im Nin ‘Alu, by Ofra Haza
One of those bizarre songs that you listen to on “Now That’s What I Call Fucking Bizarre Pop Music” when you’re twelve, but don’t realise that it’s not normal pop music like Duran Duran, and so you get all excited by it and listen to it over and over and over. - Voyage Voyage, by Desireless.
As above – another weird ‘turned up on a tape I bought when I was fourteen’ song. This one sticks in my head particularly because Nicky Campbell said something really rude about them on Top of the Pops in 1986. I think he was suggesting that the lead singer wasn’t very attractive or something. It was around this period that he said of Lisa Stansfield’s “All Around the World”, that the poor singer still couldn’t find her child despite an extensive global search. How I laughed. - Housequake, by Prince.
They’re like relics, these songs. Crusty, freakish and old. - Ghostbusters, by Ray Parker Junior.
I can play this on the piano. By which I mean that I can play the bit that everyone can sing in their heads, not the bridge bits that no one really cares about. Typically, my piano teacher made me learn to play endless dull tunes with names like “Marjuka Number 5” when I was a kid, despite the fact that I kept asking if there was any piano music for the theme tune to “Murder She Wrote”. I learnt to play “Ghostbusters” when she wasn’t looking, and then I showed her that I could play it, and she made everything more difficult from that point on. Plus, when I got a note wrong, she’d sweep her hands under my arms and moan “No, No!” until I wanted to cave her head in with a brick. - You Spin Me Round, by Dope rather than Dead and Alive.
From the soundtrack to American Psycho. God only knows why I have this. It’s like Nine Inch Nails shagged 80s Europop by an alien radiation emitter and gave birth to some kind hideous hybrid pop-dance-rock monster of tacky proportions. “You spin me right round baby, round, round, like a record, baby, right round”. For some reason this reminds me of a short-term piece of contract work as a temp in an defence contractor in Norfolk.
Get thee to Limewire, my friends, and build your own screwed-up music collective of the weird taste of Tom. For without these songs bouncing around your psyche, you can’t hope to understand the depths to which I’ve plunged…
URLs that shouldn't exist, but do…
Random URLs that I tried that shouldn’t really exist, but do: Burn the World, whatthefuck.com, bored.com.
On joining a gym…
You know what? Sod the expense. I’m joining my local gym. Question – is it good to only be able to feel you can take the world on when you feel sexy? What happens when you stop feeling sexy through age? Or when you’ve got a bit fat and tired? Do you become a recluse and live in a hut? What then, eh? What then?
Parents are never free of blame…
To what extent is it appropriate when one reaches thirty to still blame one’s parents for one’s complete inability to relate to other people and form long-lasting and emotionally satisfying relationships? Probably not fair at all. I should stop, really.
When I think of my parents, I think of that famous line, “With patricide, the parents are never completely free of blame”. I’ve always liked that. I don’t know where it comes from.
On Serge, the Seal of Death…
You know who else is cool (if under-represented on the interhighweb)? Serge, the Seal of Death. Now, he’s cool… Not hot, particularly. But cool. Definitely cool.
I have a thing about geeks…
So I have a thing about geeks. What can I say? I like their passion, I like the fact they’re slightly bumbling, I like the innocuous clothing, I like the fact that there’s a nervousness, I like the being a bit shy. These things appeal to me. But I’m only human, and a red-blooded one at that, so I have to confess that on occasion a fairly well assembled young gent will turn my head. Until now, the two have never before met in one individual… Presenting, Tobey Maguire as Spiderman.
On problems with Blogger…
Blogger seems to have been buggered for at least the last 24-hours. I’ve lost many a fine post. Normal service will resume shortly.
Do you know where all the celebrities hang out in London? If so, do me a last minute favour and go and answer this nice person’s questions over at TCN…
Legal restrictions on hyperlinking…
There’s an interesting article at the moment over at The New York Times about a legal restriction on hyperlinking, which is pertinent to the KPMG debacle. One instance in which it is now illegal to link to something (in the US at least) runs as follows: “There had to be clear and convincing evidence that the person responsible for the link (a) knew at the time that the offending technology is on the linked-to site, (b) knew that the offending technology is illegal under the D.M.C.A., and (c) created or maintained the link for the “purpose” of disseminating the tainted code.” This refers to the distribution of DeCSS information that breaks the copy-protection on DVDs.