Straight from the pages of the sublime Dack.com comes a useful tool for determining how old your next girlfriend, mistress, or wife should be. Presumably casual flings are either disapproved of by the French mathematician who devised it, or not subject to the same logic. Either way, check out the table -- or work it out yourself by way of: x / 2 + 7 (where x equals the man's age).
Ladies: I suppose it works in reverse too, but maybe not? Perhaps you might be the ideal age to a man, but the ideal man from your perspective might be completely different. Does that even make sense?
Disclaimer: I don't know how it works if you're gay. I don't know how men should work out the ideal age of their next boyfriend, nor how ladies should work out the ideal age of their next girlfriend. Ask a French mathematician.
Wednesday, 28 June 2006
Monday, 26 June 2006
Work related stuff
After I found out on Friday there was some doubt about extending my contract, I scheduled a meeting with HR for today to talk to them about my options, ambitions and desires. And also to establish quite where I stand.
As far as I understand it, the way things stand at the moment are that my contract is extended and I am staying exactly where I am until July 7 (so a whole week longer). However, after that someone new is coming in -- which means I have to move. Incidentally, it will be the third time I have moved computers since being at the agency, so that's about once a month. I get settled in one place, and then it's "I'm sorry, son, but we need to put someone else here so you have to move".
I understand how it is though, I'm just an intern and I have to make room for the work experience already scheduled to come in. If they fall through, and don't come in the end then that's great, in that case I can stay put (hopefully), but the summer will be a busy time with students and they will struggle for space as it is.
It's quite unfortunate that I know what I am doing, am familiar with the clients and where the accounts are going and have been trying to establish a relationship with the media -- because if I go, the new person will have to start over completely.
I have told HR I would like to get experience in corporate and healthcare, too -- if only to broaden my horizons, and make sure that consumer PR is what I want to do. Given a straight choice, though, I'd just as soon as stay put where I am, working on the accounts I already am, and build on my career from there. But I guess it's not that simple -- there's just not a job to give me, even if it seems like there would be.
My main motivation right now is to stay at the agency -- leaving would make me technically unemployed, and the chances of finding another placement right away are very slim this time of year. However, I'm broke having been out of work for the past three months and at the encouragement of HR here and the need to start earning, I am applying for other positions. I have applied to two 'rival' agencies tonight alone.
It has been made very clear to me how valued I am on the respective accounts, and I am in no doubt how wanted, welcome and well-liked I am. Unfortunately, those things aren't enough to give me a job, and after July 7 it is unclear where I will be working.
Edit: It occurs to me now the significance of the date, July 7. Maybe I need to get things in perspective a little.
As far as I understand it, the way things stand at the moment are that my contract is extended and I am staying exactly where I am until July 7 (so a whole week longer). However, after that someone new is coming in -- which means I have to move. Incidentally, it will be the third time I have moved computers since being at the agency, so that's about once a month. I get settled in one place, and then it's "I'm sorry, son, but we need to put someone else here so you have to move".
I understand how it is though, I'm just an intern and I have to make room for the work experience already scheduled to come in. If they fall through, and don't come in the end then that's great, in that case I can stay put (hopefully), but the summer will be a busy time with students and they will struggle for space as it is.
It's quite unfortunate that I know what I am doing, am familiar with the clients and where the accounts are going and have been trying to establish a relationship with the media -- because if I go, the new person will have to start over completely.
I have told HR I would like to get experience in corporate and healthcare, too -- if only to broaden my horizons, and make sure that consumer PR is what I want to do. Given a straight choice, though, I'd just as soon as stay put where I am, working on the accounts I already am, and build on my career from there. But I guess it's not that simple -- there's just not a job to give me, even if it seems like there would be.
My main motivation right now is to stay at the agency -- leaving would make me technically unemployed, and the chances of finding another placement right away are very slim this time of year. However, I'm broke having been out of work for the past three months and at the encouragement of HR here and the need to start earning, I am applying for other positions. I have applied to two 'rival' agencies tonight alone.
It has been made very clear to me how valued I am on the respective accounts, and I am in no doubt how wanted, welcome and well-liked I am. Unfortunately, those things aren't enough to give me a job, and after July 7 it is unclear where I will be working.
Edit: It occurs to me now the significance of the date, July 7. Maybe I need to get things in perspective a little.
Musical Monday (#6)
"Ooh wop, bop ba doo wop, bop ba doo wop, bop ba doo."
Terrorvision described themselves as a band "always too busy having a good time to ever take themselves too seriously", and it could be this philosophy that was behind them never really getting the commercial success they deserved. In 1999, as a student and aspiring journalist, I was lucky enough to interview the guitarist, Mark Yates. I asked him then about the forthcoming album and if he thought the unknown rock band from Bradford they started out as would have been impressed at what they had become.
He told me he thought they would have been surprised more than anything -- but at the same time, he felt that it sort of had a tendency to come and go for the band, and that every album felt like a comeback album.
For many people, and most rock fans, the high point of Terrorvision's career was their second album How to Make Friends and Influence People, it is considered the hardest rocking of their output, but it also was host to the song today's post is about -- Oblivion. Terrorvision prided themselves on mixing "pop hooks with metal guitars" ('metal' in the loosest sense of the word, to be fair) and live they often commented how they had been advised against Oblivion. "You can't put doo-wop in a song, you're a rock band" they'd been told, to which the band had replied "Fuck off, we're Terrorvision".
Without a doubt Oblivion is one of their biggest hits -- each album had a similar catchy song, be it "My House" from their debut album, "Perseverance" from their James Bond-parody album "Regular Urban Survivors", their dance-crossover "Tequila" or the last offerings "D'ya Wanna Go Faster" and "Fists of Fury". Incidentally, Terrorvision officially called it a day after BBC Radio 1 wouldn't play their single "Fists of Fury", claiming the band were no longer "relevant".
Each of those songs could be recognisable, they were certainly popular to varying degrees at the time, but Oblivion -- a catchy song that covers the subject of intolerance and genocide -- is timeless. Unfortunately, several years later Hanson released the song Mmm Bop, with a catch that was annoyingly-similar.
At one time, they were my favourite band -- I always upheld they were not the "best" band in the world, merely my favourites -- and so to honour the fallen heroes of rock, I include the iconic "Oblivion".
Saturday, 24 June 2006
Darkside Lightside
I think I'm a bad judge of character. I have been musing over various people in my life -- friends, lovers, those who've shown me love, or come close -- and realised, not for the first time, that so many people occupy a strange grey area. I'm not saying I'm friends with all the wrong people, but that a lot of people I know I am really not sure if they are good or evil.
I can't go into many specific names -- damn you, blogger, for being so easily found in search engines -- but there are individuals that I can't quite work out. I have a friend who has apparently claimed his older brother sexually abused him, as a child. This is disturbing, because it means one of the two of them is seriously disturbed. Either someone is lying about it -- which is sick -- or it really happened, and we're sitting and talking quite happily with a pervert. Unfortunately, general opinion leans towards someone being a liar.
Then there's people like Deb, whom I have never really got a handle on. I don't think she led me on, but she certainly knew at the time I liked her... Sometimes when I talk to her, just her and me, I get this weird vibe like she wants me to kiss her -- but I tried that at New Year and she didn't go for it at all. I'll upload here about the *one* night with her... I mentioned to Jon -- and luckily, I know he's not evil -- and he said he thinks she's a bit of a tease, since she's apparently carrying on in some context with our friend Dave.
I've mentioned it before, and one late night -- when I'd sneaked out of the house while my parents were asleep to go play pool with Deb -- I asked her "So are you shagging Dave, or what?" and she was insulted at the suggestion, said they were just friends. But they have been spending time in his bedroom together with the light out when they think nobody is home. Which leads me to Dave: friend or foe. He knows perfectly well I was in love with Deb, or something like it, and one night we walked home in the rain and I poured my soul out to him, in my verbal-diahrhea drunken way, about all of my feelings for her. And then it seemed like he moved right on in there.
So that's two people sort of in one, Dave and Deb. Is she evil and manipulative and a tease and just likes to dangle the idea of her in front of me and watch me jump for it? Or is she just confused, not sure what she wants, lonely and in need of friends -- and possibly sleeping with Dave, but that's between her and her boyfriend. and Dave. And what about Dave -- is it any concern of his if a girl he likes is also liked by a friend of his? I think Dave has a very dark side he keeps hidden, but who am I to criticise? I have fantasised about burning his house down, just because "I saw her first". Obviously, I should point out for anyone wondering, I never actually would do that -- in a year or two I won't even remember what it was all about. But all the same, the idea floats to the surface of my consciousness.
Then there's people like Jade, whom I meet and seem perfectly nice and friendly and then she drops me like I'm something slightly less welcome than nose-picking.
And the list goes on and on, people I'm close to whom sometimes I think are good, and sometimes I think are evil and manipulative, and never being really sure. And thinking I'll just go live in a cave somewhere on my own instead. Because I know I'm no better, I wonder about myself as well -- am I a good person, do I mean well and try not to do anybody any harm? Do I try and live according to karmic laws and noble truths and sevenfold paths, or do I just hurt people and manipulate people into getting my own way?
A few weeks back, I was with San and she was lazily tracing the lines on my hand. She was shocked by it, she practically sat up and paid attention when she turned to me and said "You have a really bad temper" no kidding, I said. But she said she'd never seen it. "And you have a jealousy line than runs almost the entire length of your palm", remember wanting to burn down Dave's house? Thinking about Macbeth in work, and if I would get promoted if I murdered colleagues... I keep these things hidden.
I was considering this week changing my user pic -- that the whole Star Wars jedi/dark side metaphor for working in the media was wearing a little thin. The joke wasn't so funny, and I was using lightly something that was quite serious, the nature of being evil. But then I'm reminded of what dwells within me, and I feel it's maybe not so far from the truth -- sometimes I really feel the picture represents me.
At the end of the day, who do you know how to trust if you're not even sure about yourself?
I can't go into many specific names -- damn you, blogger, for being so easily found in search engines -- but there are individuals that I can't quite work out. I have a friend who has apparently claimed his older brother sexually abused him, as a child. This is disturbing, because it means one of the two of them is seriously disturbed. Either someone is lying about it -- which is sick -- or it really happened, and we're sitting and talking quite happily with a pervert. Unfortunately, general opinion leans towards someone being a liar.
Then there's people like Deb, whom I have never really got a handle on. I don't think she led me on, but she certainly knew at the time I liked her... Sometimes when I talk to her, just her and me, I get this weird vibe like she wants me to kiss her -- but I tried that at New Year and she didn't go for it at all. I'll upload here about the *one* night with her... I mentioned to Jon -- and luckily, I know he's not evil -- and he said he thinks she's a bit of a tease, since she's apparently carrying on in some context with our friend Dave.
I've mentioned it before, and one late night -- when I'd sneaked out of the house while my parents were asleep to go play pool with Deb -- I asked her "So are you shagging Dave, or what?" and she was insulted at the suggestion, said they were just friends. But they have been spending time in his bedroom together with the light out when they think nobody is home. Which leads me to Dave: friend or foe. He knows perfectly well I was in love with Deb, or something like it, and one night we walked home in the rain and I poured my soul out to him, in my verbal-diahrhea drunken way, about all of my feelings for her. And then it seemed like he moved right on in there.
So that's two people sort of in one, Dave and Deb. Is she evil and manipulative and a tease and just likes to dangle the idea of her in front of me and watch me jump for it? Or is she just confused, not sure what she wants, lonely and in need of friends -- and possibly sleeping with Dave, but that's between her and her boyfriend. and Dave. And what about Dave -- is it any concern of his if a girl he likes is also liked by a friend of his? I think Dave has a very dark side he keeps hidden, but who am I to criticise? I have fantasised about burning his house down, just because "I saw her first". Obviously, I should point out for anyone wondering, I never actually would do that -- in a year or two I won't even remember what it was all about. But all the same, the idea floats to the surface of my consciousness.
Then there's people like Jade, whom I meet and seem perfectly nice and friendly and then she drops me like I'm something slightly less welcome than nose-picking.
And the list goes on and on, people I'm close to whom sometimes I think are good, and sometimes I think are evil and manipulative, and never being really sure. And thinking I'll just go live in a cave somewhere on my own instead. Because I know I'm no better, I wonder about myself as well -- am I a good person, do I mean well and try not to do anybody any harm? Do I try and live according to karmic laws and noble truths and sevenfold paths, or do I just hurt people and manipulate people into getting my own way?
A few weeks back, I was with San and she was lazily tracing the lines on my hand. She was shocked by it, she practically sat up and paid attention when she turned to me and said "You have a really bad temper" no kidding, I said. But she said she'd never seen it. "And you have a jealousy line than runs almost the entire length of your palm", remember wanting to burn down Dave's house? Thinking about Macbeth in work, and if I would get promoted if I murdered colleagues... I keep these things hidden.
I was considering this week changing my user pic -- that the whole Star Wars jedi/dark side metaphor for working in the media was wearing a little thin. The joke wasn't so funny, and I was using lightly something that was quite serious, the nature of being evil. But then I'm reminded of what dwells within me, and I feel it's maybe not so far from the truth -- sometimes I really feel the picture represents me.
At the end of the day, who do you know how to trust if you're not even sure about yourself?
Friday, 23 June 2006
STOP PRESS!
In a dramatic break with tradition I just got a text from Philippa -- replying to a message sent to her much earlier in the week. I sent her a message calling her a slacker and asking her if she would like to go to a comedy club with me this weekend. As is normal, I heard nothing back -- and sulked a bit, because I had asked a direct question.
Now I am sat at my desk thinking about starting some work and my phone beeps. Expecting it to be one of my friends, I almost ignored it -- but instead I check the message and it is the much sought-after Philippa herself, responding "comedy sounds good, let me know the details" -- also saying tomorrow night is best for her. Luckily for me, since I have invited almost everyone I know round to my house this evening.
The bad news is, the flyer I had for free tickets to a nearby comedy club is only valid for Fridays. The good news is lastminute.com has some reasonably priced tickets for Covent Garden... I'm letting her know her options and trying to wipe the smile off my face.
Update:-
It seems she only wanted to go when she thought it was free, says she is broke and might not be able to afford to move. I explained the free ticket offer is only for Fridays, or offered to pay for her tomorrow -- in exchange for dinner at some later date. She refused. Says she "only just remembered" that she is meant to be meeting her sister's friend tomorrow, oh what a disorganised ditz she is...
That has certainly wiped the smile off my face. Next time, don't be so fucking eager.
Update 2:-
I have one week left of my contract at the agency, and now it seems this time it might not be extended. In a week's time I might be rejoining the dole queue.
Update 3:-
My friends are no longer coming over tonight, it seems the pub was a more attractive option for them, so they're going there instead.
Now I am sat at my desk thinking about starting some work and my phone beeps. Expecting it to be one of my friends, I almost ignored it -- but instead I check the message and it is the much sought-after Philippa herself, responding "comedy sounds good, let me know the details" -- also saying tomorrow night is best for her. Luckily for me, since I have invited almost everyone I know round to my house this evening.
The bad news is, the flyer I had for free tickets to a nearby comedy club is only valid for Fridays. The good news is lastminute.com has some reasonably priced tickets for Covent Garden... I'm letting her know her options and trying to wipe the smile off my face.
Update:-
It seems she only wanted to go when she thought it was free, says she is broke and might not be able to afford to move. I explained the free ticket offer is only for Fridays, or offered to pay for her tomorrow -- in exchange for dinner at some later date. She refused. Says she "only just remembered" that she is meant to be meeting her sister's friend tomorrow, oh what a disorganised ditz she is...
That has certainly wiped the smile off my face. Next time, don't be so fucking eager.
Update 2:-
I have one week left of my contract at the agency, and now it seems this time it might not be extended. In a week's time I might be rejoining the dole queue.
Update 3:-
My friends are no longer coming over tonight, it seems the pub was a more attractive option for them, so they're going there instead.
Wednesday, 21 June 2006
You take your car to work, I'll take my board
San's gone to Argentina. It's weird; I don't see her every day, I don't talk to her every day -- hell, I don't even want to talk to her every day. So why then does it feel lonely that she's gone? It reminds me a little of last year, when she went to university in Maryland -- London felt weird without her in it. Like somehow this living, breathing city of however-many thousand people was missing a vital part. I'd get on the tube, and it would feel so weird to just pass by Kings Cross -- sometimes I felt like asking her younger sister if she wanted to hang out. But I never got quite that weird about it. Now San's on holiday visiting one of her friends from when she was in Towson, it's just a short holiday even if she is technically now on the other side of the world.
Yesterday morning she called me from the airport while I was still in bed, I then spent the rest of the day thinking of her. Wondering where she was -- was she now changing planes in Barcelona, was she settling down on the plane, was she picking up her luggage in South America. I don't even know the time difference for Argentina. I woke this morning to a text message from her, she'd met her friend and they were going out to eat. I replied saying it was nice to know she was safe.
Back here at my desk in East London, it's a warm sunny morning and I'm calling a smoothie bought at the station my breakfast for the day. It's pretty good, and probably more fruit in one go than I have had in the last month. Instead of starting my work, and drafting out letters to celebrities, I'm checking my emails and longing for surf. Yesterday morning's Urban Junkies mail out detailed a company in the city that do weekend surf getaways -- you catch the bus Friday night after work, and they have you back in time before you start work again on Monday morning. I love the idea of that -- are you watching the football at the weekend, maybe having a barbecue, no you're going surfing straight from work.
I don't know why, because I suck at surfing. Seriously. I am perhaps the worst surfer to ever grace a long board, and barely made it to my feet during a whole week at a surf camp in Portugal last year. Though I blame the lack of swell for that. This morning Pure Vacations have sent me a surf update, describing another surf house in Portugal -- it does sound more organised than my experience last year, with everyone sitting down to a meal in the evening. Last year I felt left out since I was about the only non-German speaker, so this one sounds more inclusive -- and the place is in a slightly more urban setting.
But it's all by the by, until I get paid employment I have to think twice before I so much as go to the pub, let alone skip the country...
Yesterday morning she called me from the airport while I was still in bed, I then spent the rest of the day thinking of her. Wondering where she was -- was she now changing planes in Barcelona, was she settling down on the plane, was she picking up her luggage in South America. I don't even know the time difference for Argentina. I woke this morning to a text message from her, she'd met her friend and they were going out to eat. I replied saying it was nice to know she was safe.
Back here at my desk in East London, it's a warm sunny morning and I'm calling a smoothie bought at the station my breakfast for the day. It's pretty good, and probably more fruit in one go than I have had in the last month. Instead of starting my work, and drafting out letters to celebrities, I'm checking my emails and longing for surf. Yesterday morning's Urban Junkies mail out detailed a company in the city that do weekend surf getaways -- you catch the bus Friday night after work, and they have you back in time before you start work again on Monday morning. I love the idea of that -- are you watching the football at the weekend, maybe having a barbecue, no you're going surfing straight from work.
I don't know why, because I suck at surfing. Seriously. I am perhaps the worst surfer to ever grace a long board, and barely made it to my feet during a whole week at a surf camp in Portugal last year. Though I blame the lack of swell for that. This morning Pure Vacations have sent me a surf update, describing another surf house in Portugal -- it does sound more organised than my experience last year, with everyone sitting down to a meal in the evening. Last year I felt left out since I was about the only non-German speaker, so this one sounds more inclusive -- and the place is in a slightly more urban setting.
But it's all by the by, until I get paid employment I have to think twice before I so much as go to the pub, let alone skip the country...
Monday, 19 June 2006
Highlights
I can't be arsed to make this long or introspective, so recent stuff in summary format. A bit like watching highlights of the world cup games later in the evening.
Philippa: I texted Philippa on Saturday. She replied. She quit her job in the pub, after the boss came onto her. She says she has been "dossing" since then and is considering moving to the Lake District. I told her not to move to the North -- for the unspoken selfish reason I won't see her if she does. And while I'm encouraged that she was warm and friendly in the few messages we exchanged, I'm a little put out that if she hasn't been working why didn't she ask me to hang out. She's worth some continued attention though.
Jade: Fuck knows. That about sums up about everything to do with her. She seems to have deliberately and actively given me the brush off, without having the balls to actually tell me so or why.
Fiona: Emailing me fairly regularly, and called me the other day just to chat. I'm trying to get her ino the Great Lakes Myth Society, since she likes poetry and her music a little quirky. Wants to meet up.
Lyndsay: Apparently both alive and well -- or at least alive. Responded to an email I sent her, asking if she was still alive, saying she doesn't have internet at home. She is checking her emails on her mobile phone, so I give her limited sympathy for not talking to me in months. She says she is moving to England. Oh my god.
Work: Some drama lately that brought up the idea that some work experience
might have to leave. If I have to leave I'd be effectively unemployed, so need to start chasing more recruitment consultancies this week about registering. They still seem pretty happy with my work, but don't seem about to offer me a job.
Home: My parents are away for a week. I wish I had taken this week as holiday to just sit around in my underwear and drink beer all day. But if I get a job soon, I will do that the next time they go on holiday.
Philippa: I texted Philippa on Saturday. She replied. She quit her job in the pub, after the boss came onto her. She says she has been "dossing" since then and is considering moving to the Lake District. I told her not to move to the North -- for the unspoken selfish reason I won't see her if she does. And while I'm encouraged that she was warm and friendly in the few messages we exchanged, I'm a little put out that if she hasn't been working why didn't she ask me to hang out. She's worth some continued attention though.
Jade: Fuck knows. That about sums up about everything to do with her. She seems to have deliberately and actively given me the brush off, without having the balls to actually tell me so or why.
Fiona: Emailing me fairly regularly, and called me the other day just to chat. I'm trying to get her ino the Great Lakes Myth Society, since she likes poetry and her music a little quirky. Wants to meet up.
Lyndsay: Apparently both alive and well -- or at least alive. Responded to an email I sent her, asking if she was still alive, saying she doesn't have internet at home. She is checking her emails on her mobile phone, so I give her limited sympathy for not talking to me in months. She says she is moving to England. Oh my god.
Work: Some drama lately that brought up the idea that some work experience
might have to leave. If I have to leave I'd be effectively unemployed, so need to start chasing more recruitment consultancies this week about registering. They still seem pretty happy with my work, but don't seem about to offer me a job.
Home: My parents are away for a week. I wish I had taken this week as holiday to just sit around in my underwear and drink beer all day. But if I get a job soon, I will do that the next time they go on holiday.
Sunday, 18 June 2006
Foo Fighters, Hyde Park
Sometimes I have trouble with…connecting. It’s very hard to explain the feeling, I don’t know what it is or when it started or what it means, but sometimes I have... difficulties. I feel being distant and apart almost from everything, including myself.Bang in the center of my skull, there's a strange coolness.
For a time in Leicester I was writing about feeling “body-snatched” like some alien entity was in control of my body and I was just a passive observer. I would have to look up exactly when this is to be able to say if it was in any way related the drugs I was on for depression. Either way, I consider the feeling now a kind of scar from depression – depression never really leaves you, even if you aren’t actively depressed it’s always there, in some distant synapse, waiting to re-emerge like an LSD flashback.
Lately I’ve been to a number of gigs and where I had once lived and breathed live music, I have instead felt numb. Have watched the bands perform on stage to surging, ecstatic crowds – but I’ve felt cold and unmoved. I can list excuses – REM at Brixton disappointed me because it was such an exclusive fan-club gig that I didn’t know most of the songs they played, or that Pearl Jam at the Astoria had played so many new songs I hadn’t heard… But I can think of several other times and the excuses about headaches or unfamiliar material wear thin.
Yesterday was Foo Fighters in London’s Hyde Park – the biggest gig they have ever played, they said. It was nine years ago this summer that I saw them play at the V Festival in Chelmsford, it was my first-ever festival and I still wear my “Disintegrator Pistol” t-shirt I bought on the day.
Yesterday was like a mini-festival, since there were ‘special guests’ supporting – including Motorhead, Queens of the Stone Age, Angels & Airwaves and Juliette & The Licks. Juliette Lewis’ punk band was surprisingly good, reminding me of a slightly catchier version of Babes in Toyland. The other guests are barely worth mentioning, but when Foo Fighters took the stage there was no sign of my detachment.
Predictably starting the set with “In Your Honour”, it was a song that will never make my favourites but set up the rest of the show for improvement. I wasn’t let down, I can’t even recall how long the band played for but they neatly avoided playing songs from the mellow second disco of their latest effort, instead concentrating on crowd-pleasers like Breakout, Monkey Wrench, Times Like These, Best of You and Learn To Fly. If I’d had my way they would have played twice as long and included some older singles like For All the Cows and I’ll Stick Around, or mixed it up with songs like Up in Arms and MIA, but the more material a band has the less chance there is they will play all of your favourite songs – and last night it was more than enough that I loved the songs they did play.
The band left the stage, and San asked me “Is that the end?” as it all went quiet – I reassured her that they wouldn’t get out alive if they didn’t play Everlong as an encore. Without fail they returned and did their duty to the fans – although a one-song encore was disappointing, as I said before they could have played for twice as long without boring me.
It's times like these you learn to live again.
Thursday, 15 June 2006
Monday night
Monday night I had a date -- or a sort-of date, I'm never really sure how you tell -- with Jade.
I got to the bar earlier -- a strange little place that Jade had described as like wandering into a time warp and finding yourself in the south of France in the 1960s. She's suggested the bar for it's table football, but hadn't bargained that they would be showing the USA/Czech Republic world cup game. I got there fairly early so took advantage of the happy hour. I was nervous about meeting her, I couldn't concentrate on the football and without my glasses I couldn't read the team names or scores on the TV. Sometimes I forget I need glasses since I almost never wear them -- Armani frames and they're probably buried under my desk, somewhere. That's the thing though, I'm short-sighted and rarely required to read anything at a distance -- it's debatable if I even need them for driving.
Anyway, the bar had a great atmosphere -- a sort of mediterranean feel that with the heat outside reminded me of surfing in Portugal last summer. I was clean cut, well dressed and carefully looking at every girl who walked in, and matching them to the pictures of Jade in my head I was struggling to remember. One girl in particular I was fairly sure was her, I made eye contact with her deliberately and smiled, but she showed no signs of recognition. I tried again when she passed me on her way back from the bar, and still she didn't catch on. I watched her sit down outside as if she was waiting for someone, and wondered how long I should leave it before approaching her. I was still early and enjoying a cold bottle of Brahma, so figured it could wait.
Then Jade walked in, we recognised each other instantly and she hugged me enthusiastically. I asked her if she wanted a drink or to go somewhere else -- since we wanted to talk, we went somewhere quieter.
We had a good evening, a few drinks, lots of conversation and as these dates tend to go I found her interesting and appealing. After a couple of hours of drinking and talking I asked her if she wanted another drink, it seemed natural enough to want to carry on. She said actually she had to shoot, she hadn't eaten and stuff but it was really great meeting me. Hugged me enthusiastically again, and left. I remember standing for a minute with a feeling like "What the hell just happened?". I was a bit put out -- like, sure she had to eat but what about me? She knew I had come straight from work, couldn't we have eaten somewhere together? But anyway, she said she'd email me and I went home.
Politely, I sent her an email when I got in -- just a line or two saying I was home safely, despite getting a bit lost on way to the station -- and I'd talk to her later. Maybe that's against date rules, perhaps I should have left it a few days but I thought it only polite to let her know I was safe and it wasn't like I was calling her. I didn't hear anything in reply on Tuesday, nor for most of Wednesday until it ocurred to me that although I got home safely, how do I know if she did? I sent her an email saying I expected she was busy, but just checking she got home safely. She replied a short while later saying she'd just been really busy -- so busy she was able to reply within about 30 minutes, apparently. She also said she was going away but she'll give me a buzz when she gets back.
What bothers me is it just feels like she's acting like Philippa. We meet, we get on well, we have a good time, we say we'll meet up again soon and then nothing. If someone didn't like me I'd rather they say "I had a nice time but I'd rather not see you again" or "I don't want a relationship right now" to which I'd respond "That's cool, I'm happy to be just friends" -- since I am. Instead I'm left wondering what I do wrong -- should I actually ignore them first for a couple of days, and not let them know I'm safe? Maybe it's before that, maybe the date themselves just aren't interesting enough -- although Philippa can hardly criticise me for the few hours we had together which involved taking her to the hospital.
It's difficult to know what to make of Jade. She told me a lot about herself which given the length of time I've known her may or may not be true -- I've no reason to believe she didn't go to Oxford, isn't a lwayer, and doesn't actually live right round the corner to where I work. Scratch that last one, that one I'm not sure about it -- she mentioned the road, which is quite well known in art circles or whatever in London -- and I said "hey small world, I work [here]", which as I say is right round the corner. She has never commented on this -- not wow, that is funny, not I don't know your road, no comment at all. Like perhaps she doesn't live there at all...
I really don't know what's going on. And if you're wondering about Philippa, I left the ball in her court the last time I asked her if she was working at the weekend and she didn't reply. I guess it was going nowhere.
I got to the bar earlier -- a strange little place that Jade had described as like wandering into a time warp and finding yourself in the south of France in the 1960s. She's suggested the bar for it's table football, but hadn't bargained that they would be showing the USA/Czech Republic world cup game. I got there fairly early so took advantage of the happy hour. I was nervous about meeting her, I couldn't concentrate on the football and without my glasses I couldn't read the team names or scores on the TV. Sometimes I forget I need glasses since I almost never wear them -- Armani frames and they're probably buried under my desk, somewhere. That's the thing though, I'm short-sighted and rarely required to read anything at a distance -- it's debatable if I even need them for driving.
Anyway, the bar had a great atmosphere -- a sort of mediterranean feel that with the heat outside reminded me of surfing in Portugal last summer. I was clean cut, well dressed and carefully looking at every girl who walked in, and matching them to the pictures of Jade in my head I was struggling to remember. One girl in particular I was fairly sure was her, I made eye contact with her deliberately and smiled, but she showed no signs of recognition. I tried again when she passed me on her way back from the bar, and still she didn't catch on. I watched her sit down outside as if she was waiting for someone, and wondered how long I should leave it before approaching her. I was still early and enjoying a cold bottle of Brahma, so figured it could wait.
Then Jade walked in, we recognised each other instantly and she hugged me enthusiastically. I asked her if she wanted a drink or to go somewhere else -- since we wanted to talk, we went somewhere quieter.
We had a good evening, a few drinks, lots of conversation and as these dates tend to go I found her interesting and appealing. After a couple of hours of drinking and talking I asked her if she wanted another drink, it seemed natural enough to want to carry on. She said actually she had to shoot, she hadn't eaten and stuff but it was really great meeting me. Hugged me enthusiastically again, and left. I remember standing for a minute with a feeling like "What the hell just happened?". I was a bit put out -- like, sure she had to eat but what about me? She knew I had come straight from work, couldn't we have eaten somewhere together? But anyway, she said she'd email me and I went home.
Politely, I sent her an email when I got in -- just a line or two saying I was home safely, despite getting a bit lost on way to the station -- and I'd talk to her later. Maybe that's against date rules, perhaps I should have left it a few days but I thought it only polite to let her know I was safe and it wasn't like I was calling her. I didn't hear anything in reply on Tuesday, nor for most of Wednesday until it ocurred to me that although I got home safely, how do I know if she did? I sent her an email saying I expected she was busy, but just checking she got home safely. She replied a short while later saying she'd just been really busy -- so busy she was able to reply within about 30 minutes, apparently. She also said she was going away but she'll give me a buzz when she gets back.
What bothers me is it just feels like she's acting like Philippa. We meet, we get on well, we have a good time, we say we'll meet up again soon and then nothing. If someone didn't like me I'd rather they say "I had a nice time but I'd rather not see you again" or "I don't want a relationship right now" to which I'd respond "That's cool, I'm happy to be just friends" -- since I am. Instead I'm left wondering what I do wrong -- should I actually ignore them first for a couple of days, and not let them know I'm safe? Maybe it's before that, maybe the date themselves just aren't interesting enough -- although Philippa can hardly criticise me for the few hours we had together which involved taking her to the hospital.
It's difficult to know what to make of Jade. She told me a lot about herself which given the length of time I've known her may or may not be true -- I've no reason to believe she didn't go to Oxford, isn't a lwayer, and doesn't actually live right round the corner to where I work. Scratch that last one, that one I'm not sure about it -- she mentioned the road, which is quite well known in art circles or whatever in London -- and I said "hey small world, I work [here]", which as I say is right round the corner. She has never commented on this -- not wow, that is funny, not I don't know your road, no comment at all. Like perhaps she doesn't live there at all...
I really don't know what's going on. And if you're wondering about Philippa, I left the ball in her court the last time I asked her if she was working at the weekend and she didn't reply. I guess it was going nowhere.
Wednesday, 14 June 2006
Thank you, MySpace
I've never been a huge fan of MySpace, and don't even remember why I was on it killing time tonight. But there I was, and I noticed how I could import contacts from my gmail -- surprisingly I found a whole bunch of friends were on there I'd never thought to look for. Among them was Lyndsay, whom I haven't heard from in months and I'm no closer to knowing how she is -- that wasn't the interesting thing though. I found Kath, whom I haven't spoken to in forever. The fun thing was looking at her pictures and her profile almost as a stranger -- and not remembering why I was ever so infatuated with her.
Saturday, 10 June 2006
The week in review
I didn't get the job I was interviewed for last week. I was told I'd probably hear by the end of the day on the Friday, and I think it took repreated calls to the recruitment consultancy before I heard anything -- on Tuesday. Apparently they really liked me, yadda yadda, but had felt that I tried too hard to give them the right answers and they didn't see enough of my personality. I guess they have a point, and my heart was never really in it.
Speaking of hearts being in it, or whatever, I've heard nothing from Philippa all week which in itself is nothing unusual -- but she didn't even acknowledge or reply when I asked her around the middle of the week if she had plans for the weekend. There's a hundred different explanations as to why this might be without any of it being a reflection on me, but I just can't be arsed. So, fairwell to the charming and funny anitpodean Philippa -- unless circumstances change, and she contacts me, these will be the last words I write for. Not that it matters, since a young lady named Jade wants to meet for cocktails and table football on Monday, and Fi is asking me if I want to meet her coffee.
Work is largely uneventful -- calling fashion journalists and talking to them about what they're shooting for the October issue and shaking your head to yourself as you talk utter rubbish. Or trying to convince journalists writing features that a dishwasher tablet would go well with a piece about summer barbecues. One of my colleagues this week commented she thought it would be "really cool" if I could get a permanent job there, which I take as a compliment -- I feel at home there, and would like to stay if I could. But it's rarely that easy.
There's little else to say. Last week's fears of a chemical attack on London appear to have been perhaps misguided -- after the tabloid headings screaming "find the bomb" and claiming it was a race against time to find the chemical weapon that was definitely out there. The two men arrested are released without charge, after the police found nothing at their home. Sometimes it's very difficult to know what's really going on.
Speaking of hearts being in it, or whatever, I've heard nothing from Philippa all week which in itself is nothing unusual -- but she didn't even acknowledge or reply when I asked her around the middle of the week if she had plans for the weekend. There's a hundred different explanations as to why this might be without any of it being a reflection on me, but I just can't be arsed. So, fairwell to the charming and funny anitpodean Philippa -- unless circumstances change, and she contacts me, these will be the last words I write for. Not that it matters, since a young lady named Jade wants to meet for cocktails and table football on Monday, and Fi is asking me if I want to meet her coffee.
Work is largely uneventful -- calling fashion journalists and talking to them about what they're shooting for the October issue and shaking your head to yourself as you talk utter rubbish. Or trying to convince journalists writing features that a dishwasher tablet would go well with a piece about summer barbecues. One of my colleagues this week commented she thought it would be "really cool" if I could get a permanent job there, which I take as a compliment -- I feel at home there, and would like to stay if I could. But it's rarely that easy.
There's little else to say. Last week's fears of a chemical attack on London appear to have been perhaps misguided -- after the tabloid headings screaming "find the bomb" and claiming it was a race against time to find the chemical weapon that was definitely out there. The two men arrested are released without charge, after the police found nothing at their home. Sometimes it's very difficult to know what's really going on.
Monday, 5 June 2006
Musical Monday (#5)
"The car's on fire, and there's no driver at the wheel
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows..."
Godspeed You Black Emperor! (or Godspeed You! Black Emperor, depending on when in their career you are talking about, apparently) are difficult to try and pin down. A friend of mine once asked, somewhat concerned, if they were "Satanic" -- but I think it was probably the "black emperor" part that gave him that impression. What he makes of the Rolling Stones "Satanic Majesty" I don't know...
I know very little about the band, other than that they are Canadian -- and that much you can gather yourself from the narrator's voice. Reading about them reveals little more than you can infer from their music, and reputation. The band formed in 1993 with three members, has had as many as 15 at one point, but more consistently has nine. They are currently on an 'indefinite hiatus'.
Almost everything about the band in theory makes me want to hate them. A band named after an obscure Japanese documentary made in the 70s, making records with vast, sweeping movements including instruments like bagpipes and glockenspiels and who generally refuse interviews to the mainstream media. You want to tell them to lighten up.
But the album F# A# (Infinity) is an epic, post-rock masterpiece and I could care less about what silly names their side projects have, or how arty they are -- all I care about is the music, and how it makes me feel. And for me, the music sounds like a post-apocalypse Spaghetti Western.
Politically, their music reminds me of the anarchist Edward Abbey -- perhaps the references to "leering billboards" remind me of "falling billboards, falling in flames" of his 'Direct Action Committee', and maybe one influenced the other. It's probably unsurprising the band were once detained and questioned on suspicion of being terrorists.
Uneasy, difficult, and even a little disturbing -- The Dead Flag Blues narrates a nightmarish apocalypse, but juxtaposes the destruction with the phrase "I said, 'Kiss me, you're beautiful...These are truly the last days".
What's not to like?
And so it continues
Things continue much as ever for me. I've lost track how many days or weeks I have been working in PR now, but I actually enjoy it more the longer I do it -- because naturally I become more experienced, and am given slightly more taxing jobs to do. Although to their credit they have never had me making tea or doing the photocopying, I have spent entire days sorting clothing for one reason or another, or putting stuff in boxes. But for every day like that there are the media days when you get to meet all the journalists you have been stalking on the phone. Of course, I would like to be working on accounts where I meet journalists from magazines I actually read, rather than Glamour and Vogue, but one day at a time.
Last Friday I took the morning off work, since I had a job interview first thing, before which I had to meet with my recruitment consultancy to be briefed on the company and what questions to expect to be asked, and then after the interview I arranged to meet with a different recruitment consultancy.
The interview was unremarkable. I haven't heard anything back -- either Friday or today -- about it, despite calling my 'consultant' this morning, and leaving a message with a colleague of hers since she was in a meeting. That's probably not a good sign -- but I didn't have my heart set on the position. It was business-to-business PR rather than the consumer PR I do at the moment, and although it was IT based (or perhaps because it was) their client list meant little to me. But the offices were nice, the guys I met who interviewed me were friendly enough and interesting and I liked the sound of the company and the job enough from it to think I could do it well, and do it happily. This is a world away from when I texted San on route saying I didn't know if I even wanted the stupid job -- but I think that was more frustration at having to change about 3 times on the tube for what would have been a 15 minute walk.
After the interview I had two hours before my appointment, and took some time out to just sit in a park in the sun and read the end of Alex Garland's The Coma, and then a copy of Q magazine I'd swiped from the office at work. There's never a shortage of magazines when you work in PR.
San suggested meeting for lunch, but the timing was inconvenient for me and I wanted some space from her. When I asked Philippa if she was free at all over the weekend, it seemed timing was inconvenient for her, too. That's just how these things go. Maybe I'll see one or other of them this weekend, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll get a call about an interview this week or next, and again -- maybe I won't...
Last Friday I took the morning off work, since I had a job interview first thing, before which I had to meet with my recruitment consultancy to be briefed on the company and what questions to expect to be asked, and then after the interview I arranged to meet with a different recruitment consultancy.
The interview was unremarkable. I haven't heard anything back -- either Friday or today -- about it, despite calling my 'consultant' this morning, and leaving a message with a colleague of hers since she was in a meeting. That's probably not a good sign -- but I didn't have my heart set on the position. It was business-to-business PR rather than the consumer PR I do at the moment, and although it was IT based (or perhaps because it was) their client list meant little to me. But the offices were nice, the guys I met who interviewed me were friendly enough and interesting and I liked the sound of the company and the job enough from it to think I could do it well, and do it happily. This is a world away from when I texted San on route saying I didn't know if I even wanted the stupid job -- but I think that was more frustration at having to change about 3 times on the tube for what would have been a 15 minute walk.
After the interview I had two hours before my appointment, and took some time out to just sit in a park in the sun and read the end of Alex Garland's The Coma, and then a copy of Q magazine I'd swiped from the office at work. There's never a shortage of magazines when you work in PR.
San suggested meeting for lunch, but the timing was inconvenient for me and I wanted some space from her. When I asked Philippa if she was free at all over the weekend, it seemed timing was inconvenient for her, too. That's just how these things go. Maybe I'll see one or other of them this weekend, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll get a call about an interview this week or next, and again -- maybe I won't...
Sunday, 4 June 2006
Serial Killer Sunday (#4)
After a series of brutal killings, dating back to the 1970s and continuing as long as the early 1990s, Dennis Rader pleaded guilty to his crimes in 2005. He made no apologies at the time.
Dennis Rader, 59 at the time of his arrest in 2005, was president of his local church and a Boy Scout leader. He was also married with two children, and worked for the city as supervisor of the Compliance Department. Unlike some of the other killers I have written about, I haven't found anything to suggest Rader's childhood -- or indeed his everyday life -- was at all unsual. He graduated from high school, achieved Associate's and Bachelor's degrees from university and served briefly in the Air Force.
Until 2004, the BTK killer -- as he liked to be called, standing for "bind, torture, kill" -- was an unsolved mystery. He had been silent since the early 1990s, and it was speculated that he had most likely either died or was in prison. Exactly why he did stop killing and communicating is unclear, but in 2004 he broke his silence -- inspired by a recently-published book about him, "Nightmare in Wichita" by Robert Beattie.
What Rader does share with other mass murderers like this is his arrogance, and an obsessive desire for attention. Like Jack the Ripper and David Berkowitz, Rader wrote letters to the police and the media -- sometimes complaining about a lack of media interest, and suggesting a list of nicknames for himself. In one of his letters Rader explained that he didn't often get the urge to kill, that it wasn't continuous for him, and he would return to his normal life like anyone else. He also compared himself to various other infamous serial killers, including the Son of Sam, Ted Bundy and the Boston Strangler, among others.
Rader was meticulous in his planning of his kills. He would choose a victim almost at random from the street, and then stalk them until he knew the pattern of their lives. He would then break into their homes, cut the phone line, and wait for the victim to return home. It might be significant he had worked for a time installing security systems in people's homes.
If Rader had been able to keep quiet he might have got away with the murders, but as mentioned earlier he started sending letters to the press again, bringing up the unsolved crimes and taunting them. The police followed advice given by the FBI and encouraged him to keep talking, to keep making contact and making drops -- packages of symbolic items, like dolls with their limbs bound, or items like victims driving licences. One such drop was a cereal box, which Rader dropped into the back of a pickup truck in a car park. The driver had found the box and thrown it away, not realising what it was until Rader later asked in a latter to the media what had happened to it. Security camera footage of the car park caught Rader on film making the drop, although it wasn't good enough to make him out his own car was identified.
Rader's fatal mistake was believing he was stringing along the police and the media with his letters. He would send them an entirely fictional autobiography and make up false details of his life, arrogantly believing he was in control. When his missives were published he would be encouraged to send more, and Rader asked if it would be safe to send a floppy disk. What response he was expecting I don't know -- but he believed the police when they told him it was fine.
The last package contained a letter, some jewellery and a purple diskette. When analysed, the disk contained file information including the Christ Lutheran Church in Wichita and the name "Dennis". It didn't take long to find that Dennis Rader was current president of the church, or that he drove the same black Jeep cherokee seen in the security camera footage of the earlier drop.
Rader unederestimated the advances that had been made since his first murders -- access to DNA swabs from his daughter showed a familiar match to the semen found at murder scenes, along with his DNA found under the fingernails of a victim. The BTK strangler pleaded guilty to ten counts of murder, and was sentenced to 175 years in prison without parole.
But what really caught Rader was not advances in technology or forensics, but his own egotism. He couldn't bear to be forgotten, and he wanted to keep the media interested. But most of all, he reportedly couldn't get over that he was lied to by the police about the floppy disk -- his egotism went so far that he thought they were his friends.
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