mockturle06: (White Collar kiss)
So I saw someone rocking the full Chrissie Hynde this morning, and I did think for a minute, in my bleary, sleep deprived state, that maybe that dvd boxset had hit me harder than I thought last night and I'd ended up in 1978.

No such luck. Just another dreary weekday. Oh well.
more: epic fail )
mockturle06: (Fassbender)
Bless the Google doodle. They've had some beauts lately, and it is so often one of the few things to raise a smile these days, which is terrible, but the world is a much meaner place these days.

Nobody has time for meandering eccentrics these days, it's A Type arseholes, and isn't it grand. Just look at all those bankers and hedge fund managers, all those disgraced and/or arrested so called sporting heroes. Those so called sportsmen make this cynic smile bitterly, as recent press would seem to prove that this type are the same poisonous violent bullies they always were in the schoolyard.

With all these bullies roaming about, it's no wonder it's so difficult for those who don't fit the narrow deinition of acceptable these days. Sigh. Sometimes I think Wllie Loman in Death of a Salesman isn't the isolated incident of a loser who couldn't cut it, but the canary in the coalmine.

There should be more to life than screwing over the other guy. There should be.

Oh, apparently it's not just my imagination. It's in the water: Anti-anxiety drug in water makes fish fearless.

Anyways, went off to Canberra to see the TOULOUSE-LAUTREC: PARIS AND THE MOULIN ROUGE exhibition at the NGA, as part of my running away from home thing.
more: decadence for art's sake )
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
What have I been up to? Not much. There was the Cary Grant course at Sydney Uni that I thought, as it was being given by Mr David Stratton, would be a critical examination of the man and his motives, but no, it was just sitting there watching clips and the odd film. As I'm a big time fan, it's hard to be churlish, I enjoyed the opportunity to watch Cary Grant films uninterrupted under the cover of academic study, but still. Some discussion would have been nice. I fear the, um, vigourous discourse, in my philosophy classes has perhaps spoiled me a bit, expectations wise.

So that was a touch on the meh side, as if watching North By Northwest could ever be meh. Come on, you know I'm a fan, did you see what I got up to on my last trip (still can't get out to Mt Rushmore, though)?

more: music, with a side of bacon )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Precious little to report as theatre was cancelled and I bunked off my usual philosophy course. I was tired, it was wettish, and decided to wallow with my box set of The Hour instead. Good choice, imho. I love The Hour. Think State of Play in meticulous 50s drag. Except it's grim London 50s, not sparkling LA 50s. Makes it better, as far as I'm concerned. Also, crushing big time on Mr Whishaw.

It was all about the rain. Stood in the rain for about forty minutes or so outside the old State Theatre just to catch the most fleeting of glimpses of James Bond. Well, it was the dismal end of a miserable week and it was on the way to the bus stop, anyway, which is on the other side of town (scruffy reprobates from my zone need not bother coming into the city proper, they are neither welcome nor required, apparently those photocopiers fill themselves).

Anyway, I stood, I got soaked, I did but see him passing by. For a second, under an umbrella. Still, it wasn't that bad. The crowd where I was standing seemed to be made up almost entirely of British ladies of a certain age, and their withering comments, be it the weather or the fashions of minor soapie stars, was entertainment itself (British moaning does get on one's tits in the long term, but in short term exposures it's hilarious).

The monorail also provided a unique bonding experience, as we were standing right under the track in the rain and I tried to warn the tourists what would happen, but they pshawed (I wasn't wearing the grey cardigan of trustworthiness), until it did come around the corner and swept all the water from the track before it down onto our heads. After that their were cries of 'monorail!' every time it hoved into view. Well, I did try to warn 'em.

Never mind, good crowd of the very damp and the very faithful, and very British, and therefore very vocal. It was kind of fun. Reminds me of why I do the stage door thing there, but never here.
more: the mad, the bad and the dangerous )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Monday: It's an ill wind and all that, and there is one good thing to have come from the McCarthy witch hunts, albeit indirectly, and that is Shakespeare's Globe theatre, dream project of Sam Wanamaker, father of Zoe, who ended up in London as a result of being blacklisted.

I couldn't make the screening of Much Ado About Nothing, which I had been squeeing about in anticipation for weeks, and I was, and remain, completely gutted, but, bless 'em, the Globe just got back to my hastily thumbed email to say that they would certainly think about venues closer to my locale (which is kind, as Sydney transport is nowhere near London transport) and that Much Ado would be out on dvd from The Globe shop by years's end. So yay. Not as much fun as being there, or seeing it on the big screen, but still very much yay because I thought I'd missed out.
more: in the air tonight )
mockturle06: (lom tea)
Every time I go out into the office lobby, this enormous and bulging black bin bag has moved to somewhere else in the lobby and is skulking in a different corner or leaning against a different wall. I'm afraid I'm too much of a child of cheap and creepy British telly not to raise an eyebrow at this sort of behaviour, you know, from watching the sort of shows where they'd imbue a bin bag with dread and menance, because that's all the FX budget ran to.

Nevertheless, I'd have to declare their efforts most effective because I still can't but help find that independently mobile black plastic bin bag of unusual size rather unsettling.

Okay, yes, maybe that old wowser Mary Whitehouse had a point, but life would be so dull if there weren't any creepy deserted lobby wandering bin bags.
more: a surfeit of Sherlocks )


Dec. 22nd, 2011 08:34 am
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
There's a massive poster for the new Sherlock Holmes fillum at Town Hall station, so every morning I am now greeted by the mighty visage of Jude glaring down at me. That's about right, Jude, scowling down at me, daily (I'm still of the humble opinion that if one doesn't want to read bad press, then one should try not to do things that will almost certainly garner it). Still, he's been a good and hardworking boy of late (either that or the papers are behaving themselves, choose the option you think fits best).

And as for me in the glasshouse? Hardworking? Sort of. Good? That's a matter of opinion. December is getting away from me this year, like a greased pig with a firecracker up its arse. Cards will be lucky to arrive before Burns night (if you'd like a late but sparkly and well intentioned card, drop me a line and your addy privately), no presents have been bought (UK orders all cancelled or delayed, and Himself just went out and bought what I'd had for him, which is poor form in my book, especially as I'm completely bereft of ideas now). Can't talk about work and as for getting the house in some sort of order, well, I just give up, I really do.
more: don't give a rat's )
mockturle06: (merlin arthur)
We are now past peak purple, the sad time when the jacaranda blooms wilt and fall. Sigh. Of course, some people hate jacarandas because of the fallen blossoms (slippery when wet), but these are not people, as they cannot appreciate a magnificent purple tree. Nor would they ever stop and listen to a stolen wisp of music floating down from a building. No, these creatures are just so consumed by the basics of rutting and feeding and preening that they make my wild creatures look like poets and philosophers.

Sorry, being cranky again. Tired. Rough nights. Speaking of creatures, you know what you don't want when you're home alone? A large parrot thumping and rattling the door handle because they want to get in the kitchen. Think The Birds meets The Shining and you just about have it. (Didn't help that there was a stranger in the yard a short time later, upsetting everyone).

Speaking of creepy old and classic films, as I was abed all Saturday doiing the Victorian invalid thang (well, at least it wasn't a work day or night) and I was going to watch the dvds I had lined up but found instead such a cracking line up of films that it's like shall never schedule again. The Three Musketeers (1948), Strangers on a Train, Dial M for Murder and Gaslight. Whoo.
more: the sunset clause )
mockturle06: (Fassbender)
First of all, thank you to whomever comped my DW account. That was nice and engendered the warm fuzzies, no mean feat for a Monday morning. Also engendering warm fuzzies were the Fassy pics a friend alerted me to. Damn that man.
more: buttons, spiders and submarines )
mockturle06: (matt)
There are Brixton riots on telly and for a moment I think it's a repeat of Ashes to Ashes again. No, just history repeating.

This week has been very Ashes to Ashes, though. I'm still smiling over the image of Sooty bashing out that unhappy tweet to me. It's the small (and yellow fluffy) things that amuse, especially this week.

Meantime, we caught a bit of Moonraker on the telly the other week. It's kind of sad, and I don't just mean the pigeon doing the double take. It's the shuttle, the concord, even the hovercraft, all gone. All that fun and wonder, just gone.

It's kind of weird when you think about it. Of all the things to emerge from the Sixties: James Bond, Doctor Who, the Beatles and space travel, who knew that space travel was the passing fad?
more midnight magpies )


Dec. 2nd, 2010 05:00 pm
mockturle06: (White Collar kiss)
It really was too much to ask for, but really, was it asking so much, just one night, home in front of the telly?

Apparently so. The usual bastard bastard redball 4.15er so I had to stay back late, and fret, as the transport gets thin on the ground where I abode.

I suppose I should be very grateful I did manage to get through the door in time to see Lee Majors hand on the tv tough guy mantle to (not so) young Valley on Human Target. It's so cheesy, but kinda sweet, and really, really a lot of sun king/dying king mythos, if you've been over indulging in the Rosemary Sutcliff oeuvre (guilty as charged). What can I say? It was a cheap and cheesy tv moment but I liked it, because it wasn't just referencing tv tradition, and tv of my childhood at that, but much, much older traditions, too, if one wants to read such meaning into a daft show like Human Target, and one really shouldn't.
more: if there's something you'd like to try... )


mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)

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