Wednesday, 25 August 2010

This Poem Will Change Your Life

Poor little Tommy O’Toole
Victim of beatings, Social Service meetings.
Yeah, I pity da fool
But chainmail ain’t cool.

Pass this on to show you care
Copy and paste, it’s only fair.
Or Little Lottie will get cancer
Johnny Boyle get HIV
Maddy hit by an SUV.

Think for a moment on sexual diseases
Then share this text, if it pleases.
(Or you could do something that actually works
Like giving money to a recognised charity
Or petitioning out there in the real world for real changes).

Turns out Dora
Is not an explorer
Forward this on to all your friends
Or your life will surely end.

Wars, waves, meteors, strikes
Your life not be safe from strife
Just like the people whose plight
It’s my aim to highlight
With gory pictures and rhyming couplets
An interative multimedia buttress.
“If you ignore this
Harm will come to you."

Hallmark sentimentality in the place of rationality
Saving the human race from its mortality.

Please don’t email me
Nor fill my facebook wall
It’ll only end up hidden afterall.
I understand the concern
But not the way it’s expressed
How in the world could a lowly poem
Ever get these issues addressed.

Thursday, 12 August 2010

Sigh.

A couple of days ago my boything took me to The Camden Underworld to see a triumvirate of black metal in the shape of Sigh, Wodensthrone and Winterfylleth. I’ll leave the description of esoteric guitar noodling and other assorted musical technicalities to him.

Headliner Sigh’s entertaining performance was scuppered for me by one idiot who’d borrowed Claudia Schiffer’s hair, and his chortling, beer-swigging troll of a brother, who used the breaks between songs to shout abuse at the only female member, a relatively new addition to the group, ‘Dr Mikannibal’. Her outfit seemed to take inspiration from Princess Ai and every evil Japanese schoolgirl film you’ve even seen, so it was easy to see why. However, it’s still a shame to endure requests such as “Spread your wings!” and “Sing, YOKO ONO!” coming from obviously drunk, horny gig-goers who think it’ll be hilarious to attack a woman whose voice alone should instantly emasculate them. The Doctor has learnt to take it all in her stride, but I hadn’t, so to stop myself from starting on Tweedledeath and Tweedlecum I strode too, to the other side of the room where they’d be out of earshot.

Some snapshots from the night:







Not John Lennon







Not breaking up a band




It was my first experience of that venue and while I enjoyed the intimacy, there could’ve been more of an effort to distinguish the backstage area (which I of course waltzed straight into, seeking respite from pinching platform boots) from the rest. Although I suppose it does allow for band members and their fans to ‘Come Together’ before a swift 'Hello Goodbye'. (Sorry).

“Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” – Plato

Saturday, 7 August 2010

Twitter Tamagotchis

Apologies for my absence. I have been making arrangements for moving to Brighton (the host of Pride this weekend) by job-hunting, house-hunting, extreme eBaying and being distracted by Sam & Max. Sam & Max: The Devil’s Playhouse is a 3D point and click adventure game featuring a Fox Mulder look-a-like and his rabbity sidekick, but please don’t let any of that put you off. I have now completed around half the ‘episodes’ and am charmed by the witty dialogue and novel plot twists, some of which, for example, require you to complete future scenes to understand the present. The puzzle-solving, however, is quite simplistic (although that could be put down to my being 10 years older than when I last indulged in the S&M (hur) franchise) and seems to serve merely as a springboard for cutscenes. I’m guessing this is representative of the changing needs of gamers – people switch on to switch off, not to feel as though they’re back at work again.

Telltale Games has not been my only provider of pixelated furry companionship this week. I have befriended a tweeting goose. The insurgence of similar Twitter profiles hasn’t escaped my attention either – I_am_a_hamster, I_am_a_fish, I_am_a_pigeon to name a few. There is even I_was_a_goose, the ghostly variation of my feathered friend. Less reliable than big_ben_clock they may be, these ‘Twitter Tamagotchis’ as I have dubbed them, provide a comforting interruption of chirrups, scratchings and honkings to the stream of self-publicising celebs and ladies who for some reason want to tell you their bra doesn’t fit and oops, they forgot to put knickers on this morning.

Honk