Alasdair Watson

I have just discovered the existence of the album “Mr T’s Commandments”, which includes the track “Mr T, Mr T (he was made for love)”. If any of you can furnish me with a digital copy of this (and the rest of the album), I will love you forever.

In other news, I have just discovered that a consultant that we are working with was responsible for the on-line PR for one of my favourite albums of last year (Nick Cave’s Abbatoir Blues/Lyre Of Orpheus double album). I think it says a lot about this consultant’s talent, that, as part of the target audience, and as someone who is on-line more-or-less 24/7, I saw well, absolutely no on-line PR for it at all. Did any of the rest of you?

But on the bright side, once their server comes back up, we’ll finally have a pope with an on-line fan club.  This sort of thing is so important.  And it proves that the church have clearly elected someone who is in touch with the needs of the faithful as they face the challenges of the 21st century.

Yeah, OK.  But at least he has an amusing-sounding name.

Still, with any luck he’ll only hang around long enough to drive the last few moderates out of the Vatican, and lock the Catholic church firmly on course for complete irrelevance within my lifetime, and then he’ll have the decency to snuff it, because really, the head of one of the world’s major religions having been a Hitler Youth member is about as black as I can take my humour.  (“Everyone else was doing it, and he didn’t like it very much” get him a pass as a weak and feeble human, and I’m not about to condemn Ratzinger for it.  But I think it really should have put him out of the running for “God’s representative on earth”.)

Right now, I am mostly thinking about stuffing my face with cake.  There are many reasons for this – cake is never far from my thoughts, after all – but chief among them is that annwfyn‘s post earlier today has reminded me that one of the London Things I have always meant to get around to doing is having afternoon tea at a posh hotel.  I like afternoon tea.  Scones and jam and cream are one of those things that reassure me that the world does make sense after all, especially if they’re accompanied by something nice to drink.  The fact that I can have them served to me by men in absurd outfits only makes it better.

Anyway: the Savoy seems to come recommended and costs 24 quid per head, for which, by the sound of it, they will feed you until you beg for mercy which is the sort of thing I like in a restaurant.

If I were to attempt to make a booking for a Saturday afternoon in the not-to-distant future, would anyone care to join me?

Bought the new Garbage album.  It hasn’t grabbed me in the same way that 2.0 and Beautiful Garbage did, but nor did their first album when I first heard it, and I love it now, so I suspect this one’ll be a grower.

There’s something wrong with me.  I’m  really enjoying using a treadmill again.

I wish this sore throat would fuck off.  It’s been about two weeks now, and really, it’s just not funny any more.

Am contemplating Slimelight at the weekend.  Can I get a show of hands from anyone planning on going, as a decision making aid?

Caught an episode of CSI: New York for the first time at the weekend.  It was OK, but I worry about the way they seem to be diluting the franchise like motherfuckers.  Also, surely the point of watching CSI is to watch Grissom do his Holmes-With-A-Heart routine?  (Also Jorja Fox…)

OK, perhaps worry is a little strong.  I mean, it’s not keep me up nights, or anything.

OK, wittering now.  Time for bed.  And CSI.

Somehow managed to miss the fact that Garbage are playing Brixton in June.  Don’t suppose anyone has (or knows someone who has) a spare ticket?

Of course, you may have to keep an eye on electricana for the results but this seems like a good way to get myself to take a few photos:

“Ever wanted to see something about my life? I have a digital camera, so request a picture. You can request anything you want–a picture of something in my house, in my life, at my work, in my neighborhood, anything. I will either post a picture that I already have, or I will take a new one.”

(Caught this one off reynardine, cheers.)

1. Remove head from arse before thinking.
2. Eat more fruit and veg.
3. Regular exercise is your friend.
4. A bit of fresh air now and again wouldn’t kill you, either.
5. Reminder: see item 1
6. Spend a bit more of your own time on webdev projects.  Make ’em clever ones.
7. More photos!
8. Don’t worry.  It’ll either happen, or it won’t.  There’s no point in tying yourself in knots.
9. Re-read 45 and The Te of Piglet.
10. Reminder: see item 1

Lest I be accused of being needlessly cryptic: I am aware of a downturn in my general mood over the last month or so, that doesn’t seem to be fucking off like I’d hoped it would.  This is, obviously, not on.  I refuse to be Tedious Whining Bastard Man, because that’s no fun for me, or anyone else.  So rather than set down what’s bothering me, which is just a terribly TWBM thing to do, I thought it’d be rather more constructive to set down what I propose to do about it, so’s I’ve got something to hit myself over the head with.

So, while I think of it: April looks alarmingly calm and social-life free, which is nice.  This means I have more weekends in which I can do something useful.  As, in fact, I’m going to go and do now.  See you all later.

I normally fall asleep watching a DVD. Because I know I am planning to fall asleep, I am normally bright enough to sitck on something I have seen a billion times before, like, y’know, any given episode of the West Wing.

Tonight, I was stupid. Today, I bought Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind on DVD, and as I was going to bed, I thought “Well, it’s not like it’s a loud explodey film. I’m sure I’ll fall asleep, and I’ll finish watching it in the morning.”

I was right on three counts. It is neither loud nor explodey, and I did, indeed, finish watching it in the morning. Just rather earlier than I’d planned. And it’s not the sort of film after which I find I can sleep, hence this livejournal entry. Just like last time, I am still trying to decide if the ending is either unbelievably depressing, or the most heart-rendingly accurate depiction of romance in the history of cinema.
Spoilers – if you haven’t seen the film, skip this, and go rent it.

Back home after a storming night out.  Happy birthday to lilitufire, who is, I assume, currently asleep in the lounge, because she decided to be sensible, and forgo the Slimelight experience.

I am just in.

And your reminder: I will be at the Big Chill Bar off Brick Lane from around 4 pm.  I cannot recommend attendance in strong enough terms – it’s a lovely place to sit and chill, with good tunes, nice food and astonishing cocktails.  You will like it.  Come along.

Well, as of about an hour ago.  I’m a sucker for a excuse to mark a year off – in the absence of any other days in the calendar to attatch importance to, Jan 1st and March 25th, as new year days (and indeed, until 1752, March 25th was New Year’s Day, in  England at least) are big days for me.

So, thanks to anw, alexdecampi, burge, childeric, diffrentcolours,greyeyedeve, lilitufire, stu_n, wehmuth and zoo_music_girl (and my parents, who worryingly, liked the lot of you) for a cracking night out, and I hope to see the rest of you over the next few days, even if the horrors of geography make that slightly unlikely in many cases.

Last December, talking of the previous 2004, I said: “I win.  At everything.  Ever.”

Oddly, I don’t feel the same about having been 27 as I do about 2004, despite the fact that the two were largely coincident.  I’m not sure why.  I’m really not sure how I feel about have got 27 out of the way.  It wasn’t a milestone, it wasn’t an age I’ll really remember, which is, I suppose, as it should be.  One’s age is less important than the times one lives in.  But that lack of memorability does rather cement the urge to do something with 28.  If only I could work out what…  A topic for another time, perhaps, when I’m less drunk and sentimental.

Anyway: cheers for the last year, kids.  It wasn’t terribly striking, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun, and I’m happy to blame my friends for that.

(Oh, and slightly belate happy birthday to tyrell, and a slightly premature (with timezone difference) happy birthday to gregmce.  All the best people are born at this time of year.)