Monday, May 10, 2010

Monday 10 May 2010

Wake up with a thump.  Wasn’t I going to pull a sicky today?  I deserve one.

Not by design I leave earlier than usual this morning, it’s just how things come together today.

As I exit my apartment my pig neighbour has closed the fucking windows but left the bin bag out to stink up our block.  Whenever I notice the bags left out I open these windows as a gesture of annoyance.  One day I will piss on or set fire to their bags.

On the radio Chris Moyles is talking about the Leeds win on Saturday and their tainted promotion.  He is such a prick.  No wonder Leeds is one of the most despised clubs in the country if this tool is one of their most famous supporters.  He speaks like a person that knows nothing about football, talking without any humility or displaying any gratitude towards the fact that Leeds appeared to do everything in their power to fluff their season.  Next season I hope they fucking fail.

The week begins OK; I get the train more comfortably than in recent memory and the journey into town runs smoothly.  Things however take a dip in fortune when I reach the tube platform to the sight of a hunch of bodies and little movement in the way of trains.  Something is up.

Eventually a tube comes along and it is the one I want (a Metropolitan Line) but with the mass of bodies that have now formed on the platform this has now become the wanker train and I do not stand a chance of comfortably getting aboard it.  Briefly I toy with the idea of having a go at the Central Line but in the end I just saunter closer to the edge of the platform (the yellow line) to either wait for the next train or commit suicide.

Finally another train comes along and when I finally get on it I manage to get a seat while the majority of the other extras get caught in the rush.  Thank god that there are no pregnant women on this train.  Today the change at Baker Street onto the Jubilee Line is a welcome one.

I step into work bemused by it all.

When the Filipino comes in she is glowing off the back of yesterday.  We exchange more gratitude regarding invitation and attendance, commenting on how great the food at the restaurant was.  Then The Girl trots in and has a sudden interest in events despite selfishly bailing early on.  All in all it just leaves a bad taste of hypocrisy for me.  From here I get a slight grump on.

My morning fails to improve when Sarah emails me a heave ho:

“From: Sarah W
Sent: 10 May 2010 10:03
To: Jason Graham
Subject: RE: May 23rd

Hey Jason

How did the christening go? Did you manage to juggle all of your social engagements?!

Nobu was great - well, what I can remember of it as I did get a bit merry. The rest of the weekend was also pretty lovely - particularly an outing to Columbia Road Flower Market, which was a real find!

It was cool to meet you on Thursday. Being honest though, the spark wasn't really there in my opinion. Sorry - its a bit hard to judge whether you'll click until you meet and so I hope you don't think I wasted your time.

Take care,

Sarah x”

Fucking cunt why did she leave it over the weekend and ruin my days off?  She isn’t even giving me a chance.  This will never get easy.

As usual things come in threes and when I request a holiday for when England play their final group games in the world cup despite nobody else having the day booked off for holiday because it is the day before my boss goes away he tells me that he doesn’t want me to take it off.  Considering that the other two (The Girl and the Filipino) are both taking three week blocks this year this is a bit hard for me to take but I do, I’m a good guy.

From here I spend the rest of the day in a sulk.  At this point I spot The Girl has put “I hate being around grumpy people” as her Facebook status so I just go “fuck it” and cull her.  I then proceed to cull the Heavy Metal Manager as well, after Friday I can live without his “big I am” act.

By the time lunch arrives I have completely withdrawn and given up on work, choosing to catch up on my correspondence instead.

A brief beacon of positivity occurs when Germaine remembers that it is the LESLIE NIELSEN talk at the BFI this evening.

We stumble into the afternoon with me experiencing (but not expressing) disillusion.  Towards the end of the day the boss jokily takes the piss out of me for having an untidy flat due to me not having enough time to deal with it.  Unfortunately denying me holiday time is not going to help this, is it?

Around 4.30PM Germaine messages me to say that she is feeling too poorly for the LESLIE NIELSEN event, which is just another kick in the balls.  Ten minutes later however the BFI phones to inform me that LESLIE NIELSEN has cancelled the event.  I ask “what happened?” and it turns out that he apparently fell over.  So very Frank Drebin.

Even though the event was gearing up to be a great one it does feel like something of a let off as suddenly the idea/concept of heading home to an early night appeals.  Then it suddenly occurs to me that this is a good opportunity to go see FOUR LIONS.

As 5.30PM arrives I race out of work and head straight down to the Odeon on Shaftesbury Avenue where the movie is showing at 6.20PM.  It turns out to be just before 6PM when I get my ticket which offers up the opportunity to potter and briefly browse through Fopp.

When I eventually return into the cinema it is to a scattered but busier audience than I was expecting.  As I take my seat to my right is a white dude with a big bushy beard wearing his colours explicitly on his sleeve while behind sit two toffee voiced boys who are plainly media types talking about their adventures into Islam which persists all the way through the trailers because their opinions/knowledge are just so fucking important.

FOUR LIONS turns out to be a mixed bag.  Without doubt it is funny but equally I just don’t find it tangible or convincing.  I cannot reconcile that suicide bombers and martyrs are sane and functioning members of the community, it’s just an impossible notion for me.

It’s a sad thing to notice and get annoyed by but around me sits a sycophantic audience that snivel laughs at the point of anything remotely witty or funny just to exhibit their own intellect.  They also sit comfortably kicking the back of my seat in process as I guess their chest swells with pride for being so savvy and knowing to be here at this time.  Just who are the real villains here?

All in all ultimately it’s a confusing affair and I never really find myself becoming endeared to any of the characters or their plight.  The extreme white conversion Muslim provides most laughs as the funniest character when really you feel/suspect you shouldn’t necessarily be laughing at him (or them) at all.

Towards the end I value the clever twists within the movie and when an eventual terrible moment occurs I do find myself saying out loud “oh no” a whole five seconds before Mr Media behind me says the exact same thing.  Does that make me five seconds smarter than that guy?

Once more, as with The Hurt Locker, when the inevitable explosions go off it is impressive just how the booms make me hop in my seat.  You won’t get that from a DVD.

As things roll to a conclusion the intellect continues into the credits as things feel left open ended and even more confused than beforehand.  I don’t come away from the movie offended, just frustrated and annoyed.  Were I Muslim I would probably take great offence at the manner in which they are portrayed but luckily I am not a religious freak.

I exit onto Shaftesbury Avenue with the sunny evening still glorious and the night relatively young.  This is almost summer now.

From here I head direct to Tottenham Court Road and across to Liverpool Street where I manage to grab a decent hour train home.

By the time I get home reality has resumed in my mind (focusing on the rejection) and once more I feel flat and defeated again.

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