What do I want in 2004?

I want the fucking war to stop, unsurprisingly. I want Bush out of office. I want incredible riches, or at least a property market crash that’ll allow me to think about buying a house. I want work that’ll challenge and excite. I’d like to write something I’m happy with, which is the least likely thing on this list so far. But most of all, what I want is something bloody new.

I liked 2003, I really did. I had a good year, but it was completely unchallenging. I did pretty much nothing I had not done before. I cannot recall any cultural artifact of 2003, however much I may have enjoyed it, that will really stay with me either for it’s ideas or execution. So that’s what I want in 2004. Surprises. Something unlike everything I’ve seen before.

Saw Fin play gig. Acquired cold everyone else had sense to have early in December. Went to shops on Xmas eve, despite best intentions, as brother and self had got Mum same DVD, so took mine back. Attempts to sleep thwarted by cold, rather than pre-Xmas excitement, as am now old, and like to lie in on Xmas day, although parents continue to thwart this ambition. Gave presents to family. Dad particularly chuffed with gift of collected edition of Master Li and Number Ten Ox stories by Barry Hughart, and a domain name of his own. Had Roast Turkey Dinner. Went to see Fin’s family. Dragged Fin back home. Watched Raiders of the Lost Ark. Slept, interrupted only slightly by cold. Watched rest of Indiana Jones movies. Made roast beef dinner. Pissed about on computer while Fin watched 24. Contemplating sleep and/or more booze.

Forgot how to use pronouns.

Given that I’m going to be away from my computer for less time than I am some weekends, but still, I’m heading off now, so like everyone else who’s buggering off to the bosom of the family or whatever it is they do at this time of year, I bid you all a happy holidays. Have fun. Eat too much.

Humbug I say! Christmas is cancelled. Return to work. Cease all festive activity. We’re a shitty species, and we don’t deserve a happy fucking holidays.

As you’ll have gathered, holiday mirth has fled my bones. This is because I had to give a statement to the police on my way to work this morning. I hoped on my bus, running only slightly late, full of seasonal goodwill – I finish at lunchtime, after which I shall go shopping for festive foodstuff and a last couple of things, and then I’m on holiday until the 5th, so you’d think it’d take more than a slightly crappy busride to dampen my good spirits – I’m used to those, after all.

What I got today was a testament to the depth of human malice and apathy. So, I’d been on the bus for 10-15 minutes, and we’re just passing where I used to live when a couple get on the bus, and sit on the top deck, at the back, a row or so behind me. Whereupon they proceed to have a row. Well, rather, he proceeds to harrangue her, some something involving a mobile phone. His every third word was fuck or cunt. This was pretty shitty, and everyone on the top deck was shifiting uncomfortably in their seats.

I’d like to say I was on the verge of saying something to him as a result of this, and maybe I was, but I honestly think it’s more likely that, like everyone else, I’d have sat there uncomfortably while he continued to berate her, because I’m not really any different to the rest of the toerags on the bus, but as I was sitting there uncomfortably, thinking that maybe I should say something, he hit her.

Backhanded her across the face, to be exact.

That rather made my decision for me – so, hoping the someone else would step in to stop anything else, I went downstairs and had a word with the bus driver, and got him to call for the police. Which naturally meant that we sat for quite a while halfway along the route. As far as I could tell no-one upstairs had stepped in, because he was still berating her when I got back to my seat, although he managed to restrain himself form hitting her again, thank fuck.

Eventually, the police turned up, and after a brief scene he was escorted off the bus, and I gave a short statement to the officers. Seeing me talking to them, he put two and two togther, and has threatened to find out where I live and fuck me up, but I’m a bit more worried about what he’ll do to the poor girl now, who really wasn’t happy to see the police.

So between this arsehole, wondering if I did the right thing, and the colossal indifference of the public on the bus (up to and including the living shit who complained to the driver about the interruption to his journey), I have no more goodwill toward mankind left, and am forced to declate the festive season at a premature end. I would say I’m sorry, but it ain’t me who failed to display any goodwill toward my fellow man.

In 24 hours, I will finish work for Christmas. In about eight hours, I will be seeing Eddie Izzard. But right now, I’m bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. So I’m going to do that 2003 survey that’s doing the rounds. But if it’s any consolation, I feel slightly guilty about it.

Out with the old

I got home this evening to find an amazon package on the doormat addressed to me. Upon opening it, it turned out to be a DVD – Pirates of the Caribbean, to be exact. The note said that it was for myself, Andrew and Marysia, and that we should be nice and share it, which displays either a rather sweet naivete, or a pleasingly cyncial wit.

Either way we’re all unspeakably grateful, of course, but the person that bought it forgot to sign their name, and we don’t know who to thank. So if they’d like to speak up, we will heap our blessings upon them.

Or, put another way: Ta very much, whoever you are.

[Update notice: Black Ink has new content.]

2004 is heading toward us with unsettling speed. Still, there’s time for one last look back over the year, and I’m in the mood for novelty, because it’s Christmas, and there isn’t any good new music out, or if there is, it’s drowned out by gimmick singles and greatest hits albums, and that fucking Slade song.

So, what new music has come into your life over the last year (note – not nessecarily released this year, just something you first heard this year), and who put it there?

In my case, the stand out for the year is Jason Webley, courtesy of Fin’s Mum. Courtesy of Jason himself, I’ve gained a greater appreciation for Charles Mingus and Leonard Cohen, both of whom I liked what I’d heard but hadn’t bothered to seek out more.

Honourable mentions to Mclusky, courtesy of zoo_music_girl and The King via stu_n.

What about you?

The curtains in Fin’s bedroom are made out of tissue paper. Or something slightly thinner. I, on the other hand, have become accustomed to sleeping with something close to blackout curtains – enormous heavy velvety things that admit almost no light whatsoever. This makes staying at Fin’s something of a trial for me, as I invariably wake with the sun, and then spend the next hour or two trying to sleep, and never managing more than a fitful doze.

At this time of year, at least it’s usually about seven in the morning before the light is strong enough to wake me, but on Saturday night, I was woken at 4am by the moonlight – the moon was almost full, low in the sky, and staggeringly bright. It was gorgeous, looking out over her back garden, everything washed in silver, the light glinting off a mild frost that was just settling. In that moment, I went from early December mode straight into full-on festive cheer. I attempted to wake Fin up to look at it, but in a reversal of the usual way of these things, she swore at me, and went back to sleep.

Sadly, thought it’s a full moon tonight, and quite possibly frosty, it’s also due to be overcast, in London at least.

And I can prove it. Go here and see for yourselves.