I am writing tonight. I am writing about the night of the key event in the book, except it's Ned's experience of it, so it's not yet the key event. It will be, later, when I write Esther and Vince's versions of it. Right now, Ned is walking down Avenue C in the snow and a homeless man is screaming, "I don't know who the fuck I am, motherfucker." I used the word 'coruscate' with reference to the snow and am not sure I should have.
My right arm hurts at the shoulder and I can't lift it. This is a familiar pain that comes along every so often like a recurring dream you only remember you've had previously when you're in the dream, then forget again, until next time.
I'm listening to Yann Tiersen. If One Two Three is ever finished then is published then is bought and liked by people then is sold as film rights then someone makes the film, I imagine the film's trailer will be done to 'Summer '78' by Yann Tiersen. This would be particularly apt since the main story starts in summer 1978.
I read Nietzsche over someone's shoulder on the subway and it made me smile:
"I did that," says my memory.
"I did not," says my pride, and remains adamant. Memory yields.
I feel restless, unsettled. Perhaps I want to move out of my apartment.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
*
Overheated last night and had horrible dreams, including one where my mother seemed to be going mad, then I realized at some point in the dream that it wasn’t her, it was me. I had gone insane. I woke disturbed and guilty, with stomach cramps. Feel physically disgusting today. I want to go out but it’s pouring down and I don’t feel like getting wet. Transcribing notes and text messages, considering whether to start writing another part of One Two Three or just continue with Ned. Dan showed me some initial illustrations when I was home. They’re good. Talked to some friends of my parents about the book; they were enthusiastic and kind. I hate it when people ask, “What’s it about?” It’s about forgiveness, I think. Jess booked flights to come see me in early November. (I attribute the haziness of my memories of 2006-2007 to my friendship and co-habitation with Jess.) Wrote a short story about sex that no one will ever read. Had my hair cut into an elfin crop again and bought new shoes (thank you, tax return). Watched the debate at Marcus and Christie’s house; our poll of seven said Obama edged it but they both could’ve done better. Packed away summer clothes, unpacked autumn clothes. Went to a friend’s birthday party last night, drank but couldn’t get drunk.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Back
There was nothing to blog about while I was away, just a whirlwind of family and friends and food. I met wee Charlie and had lots of cuddles from him. He's so tiny; so perfect. I had a lovely time.
Yesterday I met my old friend Rachel, and observed to her that every time I go home, it feels more alien to me. I'm just as, if not more, attached to the people I love, but England, and even Newcastle, hold less appeal for me now. There's no nostalgia, no real desire to return and restart my life there. Edinburgh, on the other hand, is bewitching, and I was delighted to fly through there this time. It's such a beautiful city, with that big castle that looks as though it's been carved out of the hill it stands on, and the pleasing gray pallor that hangs over everything. I've always felt more drawn to Scotland, perhaps because of Newcastle's proximity to it, perhaps because of wonderful childhood holidays in the highlands and islands, and perhaps because both my grandmothers - a MacGregor and a Bell - come from Scottish stock. Maybe if/when I do return to Britain, I'll end up there.
Yesterday I met my old friend Rachel, and observed to her that every time I go home, it feels more alien to me. I'm just as, if not more, attached to the people I love, but England, and even Newcastle, hold less appeal for me now. There's no nostalgia, no real desire to return and restart my life there. Edinburgh, on the other hand, is bewitching, and I was delighted to fly through there this time. It's such a beautiful city, with that big castle that looks as though it's been carved out of the hill it stands on, and the pleasing gray pallor that hangs over everything. I've always felt more drawn to Scotland, perhaps because of Newcastle's proximity to it, perhaps because of wonderful childhood holidays in the highlands and islands, and perhaps because both my grandmothers - a MacGregor and a Bell - come from Scottish stock. Maybe if/when I do return to Britain, I'll end up there.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I'M ON THE TRAIN
from Edinburgh to Newcastle. I am excited and I didn't sleep on the flight but I don't care. I'm looking out of the window at the North Sea, a few feet away.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sleep tight, grim rite
Woke this morning from a dream where a man was having all the bones in his body smashed by a woman with a hammer. She started on his legs, then he was turned onto his front and she was working her way up his spine when I burst, thankfully, into consciousness.
This is my favorite song by Interpol. It just edges out the chasing pack of 'Narc', 'Leif Erikson', 'Hands Away' and 'Obstacle 1'. What's annoying is that it's pretty standard until about 3 minutes in and then it's the most beautiful thing ever, and once you know that, the beginning of the song is more enjoyable because of the anticipation of the change of direction, but versions of it often amputate that last section. This is a fan-made video from YouTube with the whole thing. It is a perfect track for dancing to or traveling at speed, so I shall listen to it on the airplane tomorrow and bounce in my seat.
This is my favorite song by Interpol. It just edges out the chasing pack of 'Narc', 'Leif Erikson', 'Hands Away' and 'Obstacle 1'. What's annoying is that it's pretty standard until about 3 minutes in and then it's the most beautiful thing ever, and once you know that, the beginning of the song is more enjoyable because of the anticipation of the change of direction, but versions of it often amputate that last section. This is a fan-made video from YouTube with the whole thing. It is a perfect track for dancing to or traveling at speed, so I shall listen to it on the airplane tomorrow and bounce in my seat.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
I think I'm like Tennessee Williams, I wait for the click, I wait but it doesn't kick in.
It astonishes me that I can skip over songs on my iPod all the time, then when I actually listen to them, I end up loving them. Case in point: 'City Middle' by The National. It doesn't start very well, but from about one minute in, it switches into the most perfect song. I can't find a decent link to it, but you can download it (and loads of other stuff) for free here. Any song that includes the lyrics, "I have weird memories of you, pissing in a sink, I think," has got to be worth a listen.
I'm pleased I'm getting back into The National, because I'm frankly embarrassed by how many times I've listened to 'Wolf Like Me' in the last week. I needed a different obsession.
Up-and-down weekend. I slept a great deal, and feel a little hazy now, but no complaints. Saw a few people, including Marcus, Nick and Tom, who just left my apartment. He gave me the worst book he's ever read and is insisting I join in his misery. He's sweet like that. Maybe I'll save it for the redeye on Wednesday night. I've barely written this past week. Hopefully I'll do a lot when I'm home in the U.K. and on the planes and trains that will bear me there and back.
My new iGoogle homepage tells me it's a 100% full moon tonight, so I may go up to the roof and have a look at her in a minute. iGoogle is pretty cool, except when you type stuff into the search now, it won't let you hit return - you have to cursor up to the 'Google search' button. This is irritating enough, but made more so when you're taken to your seach results and at the top is: Tip - Save time by hitting the return key instead of clicking on "search." Yep. Thanks.
Still, I have a Radiohead-designed homepage. That's cool.
I'm pleased I'm getting back into The National, because I'm frankly embarrassed by how many times I've listened to 'Wolf Like Me' in the last week. I needed a different obsession.
Up-and-down weekend. I slept a great deal, and feel a little hazy now, but no complaints. Saw a few people, including Marcus, Nick and Tom, who just left my apartment. He gave me the worst book he's ever read and is insisting I join in his misery. He's sweet like that. Maybe I'll save it for the redeye on Wednesday night. I've barely written this past week. Hopefully I'll do a lot when I'm home in the U.K. and on the planes and trains that will bear me there and back.
My new iGoogle homepage tells me it's a 100% full moon tonight, so I may go up to the roof and have a look at her in a minute. iGoogle is pretty cool, except when you type stuff into the search now, it won't let you hit return - you have to cursor up to the 'Google search' button. This is irritating enough, but made more so when you're taken to your seach results and at the top is: Tip - Save time by hitting the return key instead of clicking on "search." Yep. Thanks.
Still, I have a Radiohead-designed homepage. That's cool.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Washing machines and politics
Bear with me.
My main client at work is LG. Among various things, LG makes washing machines. I was less than excited about this, but one of the things I've learned in 4 years of advertising is that everything's interesting when you look into it, even the laundry market, and all the more so now LG is in it. Why? Well, people buy new domestic appliances about once every 10 years, and they're very expensive. So received wisdom is, they default to a brand they know and trust, i.e. GE or Maytag. Then LG arrived on the market 5 years ago and absolutely caned it. It happens that they do have at least parity in terms of features, but research tells us that, essentially, people just like them. They like the colors, they like the designs, and they like the attitude of the brand, which is witty and fun. So they got out their wallets and spent bloody thousands of dollars on an appliance from a brand they barely knew just because they kind of liked it.
Same with another of LG's markets, televisions. Everyone's in the ditch squabbling about specs. Sony comes out with a gorgeous ad that says nothing - *absolutely nothing* - except 'color like no other' and everyone buys it and suddenly the Bravia's flying off the shelves despite having no functionally demonstrable edge over the competition.
The point here - see, there is a point - is that even with decisions that are serious and ought to be informed with research and judiciousness, humans ultimately choose with their heart (semi-good NYT article on this subject here). It's all about brands. People like Obama. They just like him. He has, or had, a message of hope and change that appealed to the heart. The mistake many of my friends made - and some of those friends really know their stuff - was in thinking that women wouldn't like Palin, that they'd look at her history on issues, or her inexperience, or the fact that her inclusion on the ticket was outright cynical and offensively presumptuous about the loyalties of female voters, and go against her. But they didn't. They saw a mom with a disabled baby, a sexy woman with a sense of humor and a feistiness that has the old men of Washington howling like doggies, and by God they liked her, closetful of skeletons or not. It's maddening, but people are a whole lot simpler and a whole lot less interested in the details than we tend to think. Good news for LG, good news for Obama until two weeks ago, big challenge for Obama now.
My main client at work is LG. Among various things, LG makes washing machines. I was less than excited about this, but one of the things I've learned in 4 years of advertising is that everything's interesting when you look into it, even the laundry market, and all the more so now LG is in it. Why? Well, people buy new domestic appliances about once every 10 years, and they're very expensive. So received wisdom is, they default to a brand they know and trust, i.e. GE or Maytag. Then LG arrived on the market 5 years ago and absolutely caned it. It happens that they do have at least parity in terms of features, but research tells us that, essentially, people just like them. They like the colors, they like the designs, and they like the attitude of the brand, which is witty and fun. So they got out their wallets and spent bloody thousands of dollars on an appliance from a brand they barely knew just because they kind of liked it.
Same with another of LG's markets, televisions. Everyone's in the ditch squabbling about specs. Sony comes out with a gorgeous ad that says nothing - *absolutely nothing* - except 'color like no other' and everyone buys it and suddenly the Bravia's flying off the shelves despite having no functionally demonstrable edge over the competition.
The point here - see, there is a point - is that even with decisions that are serious and ought to be informed with research and judiciousness, humans ultimately choose with their heart (semi-good NYT article on this subject here). It's all about brands. People like Obama. They just like him. He has, or had, a message of hope and change that appealed to the heart. The mistake many of my friends made - and some of those friends really know their stuff - was in thinking that women wouldn't like Palin, that they'd look at her history on issues, or her inexperience, or the fact that her inclusion on the ticket was outright cynical and offensively presumptuous about the loyalties of female voters, and go against her. But they didn't. They saw a mom with a disabled baby, a sexy woman with a sense of humor and a feistiness that has the old men of Washington howling like doggies, and by God they liked her, closetful of skeletons or not. It's maddening, but people are a whole lot simpler and a whole lot less interested in the details than we tend to think. Good news for LG, good news for Obama until two weeks ago, big challenge for Obama now.
Other people's dreams are dull
But I don't care because this is my blog.
So firstly, I dreamed therefore I slept: good.
I recall most of my dreams as a selection of unconnected snapshots. This one was a full narrative and it was *insane*.
It started at my parents' house, where we were sending my eldest two nephews, Ben and Brad, off to school for the day (so far, so explicable: it's September and Brad had his first, sobbing day at school last week). Ben had a stubbly beard. Everyone seemed to think this was normal, even though he's seven. A little, cherubic seven-year-old with a reddish-blond beard. I can't shake this image from my head. So wrong. Off they went to school. I went outside with my younger brother, Dan, and we got talking to a young homeless guy, to whom we gave a huge bag full of food. Then it transpired he was well-connected and booked us into a desirable restaurant for dinner nearby. The restaurant was a huge place near my parents' house, attended by celebrities and surrounded by paparazzi (although in real life that land is occupied by local authority housing). On my walk there, I stopped by at the allotments where my dad used to have a garden when I was younger, except it had been converted into housing for pets and I realized there were snakes everywhere (I have a phobia of snakes and they tend, quite unfairly, to crop up in dreams). A man was smashing a glass box to get one out (some photo frames I'd ordered arrived yesterday and one of them was smashed). I moved on quickly. The public bathroom from Bryant Park was on the sports field next to the allotment (I walk around Bryant Park most days). I went in. As I came out, a motorcade came down the hill and President Bush was in the car, waving like the Queen to everyone (I was reading the wiki page on Queen Elizabeth II yesterday). In my dream, I thought, "that's cool - I'm glad I stopped to use the bathroom, otherwise I would have been in the restaurant and missed the President riding by." Down Shibdon Bank. In Blaydon, Tyneside. What? As I got to the restaurant, there was a bunch of friends from London I went skiing with last year, most of whom I haven't seen/spoken to in ages, sitting outside on the steps. One of them - with whom I have never had any romantic involvement whatsoever - picked me up, and asked me very quietly to marry him. I whispered, "Yes." He kept asking, "Will you?" and I kept saying, "Yes."
Then I woke up, looked at the time and moaned, "Fuck, I'm normally on the subway by now."
So firstly, I dreamed therefore I slept: good.
I recall most of my dreams as a selection of unconnected snapshots. This one was a full narrative and it was *insane*.
It started at my parents' house, where we were sending my eldest two nephews, Ben and Brad, off to school for the day (so far, so explicable: it's September and Brad had his first, sobbing day at school last week). Ben had a stubbly beard. Everyone seemed to think this was normal, even though he's seven. A little, cherubic seven-year-old with a reddish-blond beard. I can't shake this image from my head. So wrong. Off they went to school. I went outside with my younger brother, Dan, and we got talking to a young homeless guy, to whom we gave a huge bag full of food. Then it transpired he was well-connected and booked us into a desirable restaurant for dinner nearby. The restaurant was a huge place near my parents' house, attended by celebrities and surrounded by paparazzi (although in real life that land is occupied by local authority housing). On my walk there, I stopped by at the allotments where my dad used to have a garden when I was younger, except it had been converted into housing for pets and I realized there were snakes everywhere (I have a phobia of snakes and they tend, quite unfairly, to crop up in dreams). A man was smashing a glass box to get one out (some photo frames I'd ordered arrived yesterday and one of them was smashed). I moved on quickly. The public bathroom from Bryant Park was on the sports field next to the allotment (I walk around Bryant Park most days). I went in. As I came out, a motorcade came down the hill and President Bush was in the car, waving like the Queen to everyone (I was reading the wiki page on Queen Elizabeth II yesterday). In my dream, I thought, "that's cool - I'm glad I stopped to use the bathroom, otherwise I would have been in the restaurant and missed the President riding by." Down Shibdon Bank. In Blaydon, Tyneside. What? As I got to the restaurant, there was a bunch of friends from London I went skiing with last year, most of whom I haven't seen/spoken to in ages, sitting outside on the steps. One of them - with whom I have never had any romantic involvement whatsoever - picked me up, and asked me very quietly to marry him. I whispered, "Yes." He kept asking, "Will you?" and I kept saying, "Yes."
Then I woke up, looked at the time and moaned, "Fuck, I'm normally on the subway by now."
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
About as interesting as doing your tax return
...which I just did. Having berated the American tax system, I'm now rebated up and singing its praises. It's an involuntary savings plan.
Work finally gave me a new laptop today. Transferring all the data took the dude an hour when it should have taken 5 minutes, thanks to the phenomenal amount of non-work-related stuff on it, specifically my music. More concerningly, all my writing and - dear God - instant messenger history is still on the old laptop until I.T. wipes it. The thought of this is giving me palpitations.
On Sunday night, I talked to Tom until almost 4 a.m. then couldn't sleep until after 5, but yesterday I just felt tired, not miserable, and actually slept last night. Insomnia and depression are the worst possible Catch 22, and it's easy to go very nuts very quickly when they decide to go for a waltz together.
Yeah, this was dull.
Oh, oh, except - Rich sent me a link to this guy's myspace page. Listen to his remix of 'Two Doors Down' by Mystery Jets.
Work finally gave me a new laptop today. Transferring all the data took the dude an hour when it should have taken 5 minutes, thanks to the phenomenal amount of non-work-related stuff on it, specifically my music. More concerningly, all my writing and - dear God - instant messenger history is still on the old laptop until I.T. wipes it. The thought of this is giving me palpitations.
On Sunday night, I talked to Tom until almost 4 a.m. then couldn't sleep until after 5, but yesterday I just felt tired, not miserable, and actually slept last night. Insomnia and depression are the worst possible Catch 22, and it's easy to go very nuts very quickly when they decide to go for a waltz together.
Yeah, this was dull.
Oh, oh, except - Rich sent me a link to this guy's myspace page. Listen to his remix of 'Two Doors Down' by Mystery Jets.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Brooklyn, baby
After the fish debacle, it was clear this was going to be a bad week. I've been virtually sleepless, and the exhaustion makes it harder to disguise my malaise. I'm learning that the best way to deal with it is to continue to eat and work and be around people in order to create a little duvet of normality, so I have done all those things. Last night I was in Spike Hill, which is one of my favorite bars in Brooklyn. A fellow called Randall Shreve was playing and he was pretty good (although when I looked him up today I couldn't find anything that sounded like what he played last night). He finished his last song with a scream that turned into a giggle. I chatted to him outside for a while. He was nice. Then I spent a little while tracking down the guy whose iPod was playing to get the names of two songs I really loved. This by TV on the Radio, and this by Yeasayer, both Brooklyn bands, incidentally. You should click and listen, reader, for they are good.
It is raining a lot in NYC today. It's also very hot. I want to go out and walk around.
It is raining a lot in NYC today. It's also very hot. I want to go out and walk around.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
Thou shalt not have a fishy
Today I met the most obstructive fish salesman imaginable. If you're going to be so inconveniently concerned with the welfare of the animals you're selling, at least go upstairs and work in the puppy section. Jesus. Our conversation:
Fishman (after I've tapped on the glass of the fish tank enough times to irritate him into serving me): Can I help you?
Me: Why, yes! I'd like to buy three of these little dudes, please. *points to delightful, fat little goldfish*
Fishman (warily): Ooookay.
Me: They'll be cool in one of those bowls, right? *points to delightful, fat little goldfish bowl*
Fishman: Actually, no. The whole goldfish-in-a-bowl thing is a myth. You couldn't even put one in there. It would be a very unhappy existence.
Me (astonished): Really?
Fishman: Yes.
[Fishman's judging eyes: Lady, I know what you're thinking, and I dare you to say, "Mister, the little fucker has a 10 second memory span. That isn't long enough to comes to terms with the fact of your own existence, let alone realize it's an unhappy one. These critters live a life of perpetual discovery and surprise." I dare you.]
Me: Oh.
Fishman: Yeah.
Me: Is there any fish that would like to live in one of the fishbowls you're selling?
Fishman: *points to small, dull fish*
Me: Yeah but they're not as cute, are they?
[Fishman's judging eyes: I dare you to admit this is a purely aesthetic decision and insist on buying the cute fat fish and the little bowl despite what I just said. I dare you.]
Me: *backs away, defeated*
Fishman (after I've tapped on the glass of the fish tank enough times to irritate him into serving me): Can I help you?
Me: Why, yes! I'd like to buy three of these little dudes, please. *points to delightful, fat little goldfish*
Fishman (warily): Ooookay.
Me: They'll be cool in one of those bowls, right? *points to delightful, fat little goldfish bowl*
Fishman: Actually, no. The whole goldfish-in-a-bowl thing is a myth. You couldn't even put one in there. It would be a very unhappy existence.
Me (astonished): Really?
Fishman: Yes.
[Fishman's judging eyes: Lady, I know what you're thinking, and I dare you to say, "Mister, the little fucker has a 10 second memory span. That isn't long enough to comes to terms with the fact of your own existence, let alone realize it's an unhappy one. These critters live a life of perpetual discovery and surprise." I dare you.]
Me: Oh.
Fishman: Yeah.
Me: Is there any fish that would like to live in one of the fishbowls you're selling?
Fishman: *points to small, dull fish*
Me: Yeah but they're not as cute, are they?
[Fishman's judging eyes: I dare you to admit this is a purely aesthetic decision and insist on buying the cute fat fish and the little bowl despite what I just said. I dare you.]
Me: *backs away, defeated*
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