I’ll have my Kate……….and Edith too.

I have always been fascinated by the seven deadly sins. Somebody must’ve thought long and hard about those; I mean, there’s one relevant to every little indiscretion and major cock-up imaginable. The things are like a straitjacket, you cannot get away from them.

Lust is my favourite in the traditional sense, one does have a whale of a time racking up a rap sheet on this sin but I suppose lust as a sin transcends desire of the flesh. The Aston Martin DB9, an Omega wristwatch, Kahlua, deep fried prawns, the Macbook pro and lots of other things could get you in trouble just as quick.  Lust is the DNA for all sin.

Greed on the other hand, is the most complex of the deadly sins. I suppose it is pardonable to lust after beautiful things. The creators of them would be very upset if we didn’t. If a man doesn’t get whiplash from turning to stare at a gorgeous woman then he should probably be  struck by lightning. Painters should burn their masterpieces, photographers smash your cameras, Steve Jobs takes a vacation and Celine Dion would quit singing (hmm…that might actually be not so bad). Greed is lust on steroids. Wanting more than one needs is where the line gets razor-thin. In a black & white world knowing one’s wants from one’s needs opens a technicolour world of grey. The debate on individual appetites alone is interminable and the one on separating needs from wants is as diverse as there are people in this world.

I suppose then that the quest for the perfect partner would fall rather neatly into the debate. Is finding your soul mate a want or  a need? My soul mate has to be many things. If I got started on a list here, greed alone would make it very long for I’d want her to be good at everything but we know that’s not possible. So, how about spreading the composite of a soul mate among several different candidates? Brainy-girl and Booty-girl won’t have to come in the same package. Someone else can cook and another do the laundry. There can be the girl with whom one goes to museums with and another for picnics, another who’s a great listener and  one more whose yummy voice you could listen to all day (maybe). One  whose problems you’ll always want to solve and one to whom you’ll run to when in deep shit.

Herein lies the rub; What’s sauce for the Goose…… ahem excuse me, Gander in this case, is certainly sauce for the Goose. I suppose a lady’s list on the qualities of Mr. Right would have as many items as the number on her bra size and I couldn’t possibly blame her; men need a lot of work before they are even palatable let alone gourmet fare. Trouble is, I don’t think I could handle the competition. Ideally I’d want to be the  ‘O’ guy when she goes, “Oh God!” but what if I turn out to be  a ‘men-are-pigs-I-need-to-knee-one-in-the-balls’ guy for most women? Perhaps only the spectre of assault charges is all that’s restraining them at the moment. Life would indeed be nasty, brutish and short.

Decisions, decisions.

Audiophile: The Who – Baba O’Riley
Off my shelf: The Kouga Ninja Scrolls – Futaro Yamada
Midday Matinee: Cicade de Deus (City of God)  (2002)
Starring: Alexandre Rodrigues, Leandro Firmino, Phellipe Hargensen
Directed by: Fernando Mierelles, Katia Lund

Stubs of Heaven

‘Casablanca‘ was running on TCM the other night and like a moth drawn to the flame, I stayed up to watch it – again. I know if there has been a film that has been worn thin by too many screenings, references, allusions to, special edition packages, parodies, reviews, commentary, analysis, short-listing and so on, ‘Casablanca’ would be it. I have watched it over 12 times; in b/w  & technicolour, in a cinema, on cable & regular television, on DVD and also noisily projected on a white sheet tacked to a barn door.  Suffice to say I know virtually every line in the script by heart. I have read up on it, had posters of it, listened to the soundtrack and generally done those things that creepy people obsessed by film generally do (except hop on a motorcycle and with a camera strapped round one’s neck, ride down film stars like a post-modern John Wayne lassoing a wayward steer).

The point in my weakness to ‘Casablanca‘ is that I simply love old films in general and Humphrey Bogart’s in particular. The cliché “they don’t make ‘em like they used to” couldn’t be more true. Classic film, unhampered by colour, special effects and juvenile actors bred on reality TV shows relied mainly on strong story lines and fantastic dialogue to carry them along.

Well, ‘Casablanca‘ inspired me to dig out the other ‘Bogie’ films I had around and mine them for memorable moments. From bit parts in ‘Angels with dirty faces’ [1938] starring another screen great, James Cagney to the cynical Sam Spade in ‘The Maltese Falcon’ [1941] and other memorable roles in ‘The Petrified Forest ‘[1936], ‘They drive by night’ [1940] ‘San Quentin’ [1937] ‘Black Legion’ [1937] ‘The African Queen’ [1951] ‘Key Largo’ [1948] ‘The Treasure of the Sierra Madre’ (1948) ‘The Barefoot Contessa’ [1954] Ernest Hemingway ‘To have and to have not’ [1944] ‘High Sierra’ [1941] ‘Dark Victory [1939] ‘The roaring Twenties’ [1939] and ‘The Oklahoma Kid’ [1939].

You could say I binged on Bogart.

The films also have loads of unforgettable supporting actors & actresses. Lauren Bacall’s sultry screen siren leaves the competition smouldering only equalled by a Peter Lorre so slimy it’s a wonder how he managed to hold any lines. Sydney Greenstreet’s carefree confidence in his size and ability to dispense casual violence like cheap confectionery is masterful only due to Bogart’s ability to take it. A motley crew of alcoholics and idealists serve to play off each other in not always believable but highly entertaining plot lines that have always had me paying more attention to what they are saying as opposed to they are doing.

All this without (I stand to be corrected) a single swear-word.

Sample some of the lines that have always made me smile

‘Casablanca’ [1942]

Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart): “I don’t object to a parasite, only to a cut-rate one” – to Ugarte (Peter Lorre)

Major Strasser: You give him (Rick Blaine) credit for too much cleverness. My impression was that he’s just another blundering American.
Captain Renault: We mustn’t underestimate American blundering. I was with them when they blundered into Berlin in 1918.

Capt. Renault: What on Earth brought you to Casablanca?
Rick Blaine: My health, I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Capt. Renault: The waters? What waters? We’re in the desert!
Rick Blaine: I was misinformed.

Senor Ferrari: (To Rick Blaine) Might as well be frank, Monsieur. It would take a miracle to get you out of Casablanca, and the Germans have outlawed miracles.

‘To Have and to Have Not’ [1944]

Capt. Renard: “What is you nationality?
Harry Morgan: I’m a drunkard

Slim (Lauren Bacall): I’d walk home if it wasn’t for all that water- to Harry ‘Steve’ Morgan (Humphrey Bogart) when he asks why she hasn’t gone back to America

(Slim kisses Steve)
Steve: What did you do that for?
Slim: I’ve been wondering if I’d like it.
Steve: What’s the decision?
Slim: I don’t know yet.
(She kisses him again, this time he kisses her back)
Slim: It’s even better when you help.

Slim: You know how to whistle don’t you Steve? You just put your lips together and blow

Slim: I’ve been mad ever since I met you
Steve: Most people are

Amazing.

Audiophile: The Clash – Rock the casbah
Off my shelf: The ultimate racing car book – David Burgess-Wise
Midday Matinee: The Appointment [1969]
Starring: Omar Sharif, Anouk Aimee
Directed by: Sidney Lumet

Burn Rubber

The motorsport season is shaping up rather well, everything is so jumbled up in my sports of choice (see my faves) that vegging out in front of the telly on Sunday afternoons is finally worth it.

WRC

The WRC remains a bit predictable with Sebastian Loeb still leading the championship after 4 rounds and Subaru still hanging in there by the grace of Chris Atkinson.

F1

Happily unchanged is the simmering rivalry between F1’s Fernando ‘dog-in-the-manger’ Alonso and Lewis Hamilton.

Alonso seems hell bent on single-handedly on preventing Hamilton from effectively competing when he (Alonso) ‘brake tested’ during the Bahrain GP causing Hamilton’s McLaren-Mercedes to crash into the rear of Alonso’s Renault in what has become known as ‘The Sakhir Shunt’. Despite all that, Hamilton still manages to hold 3rd place in the Driver Standings to Alonso’s 9th so there (in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t like Alonso one bit and I completely refuse to EVER be objective about him. He’s my pet peeve)

MotoGP

The MotoGP season is also off to a good start with former world champions Valentino ‘Il dottore’ Rossi and Casey Stoner both struggling on Bridgestone Tyres.

Stoner, with the no. 1 on his bike this season is also struggling on a dodgy Ducati (reliability has always been the bane of many an Italian marque).

The Hondas are looking good and the Yamahas better on Michelin rubber but that could quickly change when the series moves on to China where Bridgestone tyres have traditionally performed better than French sap.

Keep watching

Audiophile: The Clash – London Calling
Off my shelf: Nothing today
Midday Matinee: Closed

Sepia Memories

It’s raining outside.

I miss those sunny afternoons where with nothing else to do, my brothers and I would lie on our backs in the tall brown grass, staring at white clouds making fantastic shapes as they scudded across the deep blue sky.

Audiophile: Snow Patrol – Signal Fire
Off my shelf: Henry James – Portrait of a Lady
Midday Matinee: The Petrified Forest (1936)
Starring: Humphrey Bogart, Bette Davis, Leslie Howard
Directed by: Archie Mayo

Run from the hills

I went mountain-climbing over the Easter holidays with a bunch of friends.

Bad idea. Ok, great idea (on flat surfaces like………..paper). I learnt so much just when prepping for it, the kit reqiured alone is quite something. There was the usual parkas, long underwear & boots but there was more; ponchos, gaiters, wads of chocolate, drinking water (silly me, thought we’d simply get that from streams & springs along the way and give the plug ‘bottled at source’ a whole new meaning).

Well you know us guys, we live for these sorts of things just so we have an excuse to splash out on flashy gear that’s promptly lost in the back of the closet once used. I got myself a fiddly freeplay flashlight that  one can wind up by hand or charge from the mains. It has HID bulbs for white light and 2 different settings for brightness. The best part about buying it was the bit when I was talking myself  into it figuring that I’d never have to buy batteries ever again (yeah, right).

Enough with the kit, we had a great time with a wonderful group of people, 3 of them gils who are triple-handely responsible for giving my ego such a hard time that I HAD to make it ot the summit. Sadly I cannot post photos of us going up (or down) because I’d prefer not violate their privacy. Anyway, I clambered up the mountain on a combination of blind ignorance and blithe optimism and cautiously made my way down with sundry cramps and a healthy respect for that piece of rock. Going up was pretty hard, my lungs worked like bellows all through and twice I was on the verge of turning back. Once when I ran completely out of breath and I could feel my body throwing the emergency shutdown switch and another time when I went round a bend along a cliff face only to be greeted by a sheer drop that had me convinced I must’ve had gone round the bend myself when I signed up for the climb.

It was pretty cold, dark and slippery up there. There was snow & ice everywhere so our footing was rather treacherous but with determination and a healthy fear of the razzing that the pansy who dared to give up would get. All seven of us made it to the top eventually but going back down was another experience entirely; we ran completely out of breath, suffered paralyzing cramps and gritted our way through splitting headaches followed by a 12 mile hike to a base camp at a much lower altitude much of it in pitch darkness (the hike and the camp as well). The next day saw a short hike to our pick-up point and it was a quick tumble into the waiting van and a drive back into the world of hot food and hotter showers.

I’d figured that the only was I was going up anything was by elevator but 4 flights of stairs faced us when we got back. Surprisingly they were child’s play compared to where we’d come from.

Now that’s perspective that can only be gained from a mountaintop.

Audiophile: Louis XIV – God killed the queen
Off my shelf: ‘Ducati’ – A history of Ducati Motorbikes in Racing
Midday Matinee: Frankie & Johhny (1991)
Starring: Al Pacino, Michelle Pfieffer
Directed by: Garry Marshall

Tunnel Vision

I am on leave for a month and silly me, I hadn’t made any proper holiday plans. After 3 days of cable TV and an unhealthy diet of fast foods and a soft couch, I was ready to pull my out hair by the roots. To remedy my cabin fever I lighted upon a what I thought was a rather novel idea and I decided to act upon it forthwith (I love that word,  forthwith – it always makes me feel so full of purpose).

Right, I decided to fulfill a childhood fantasy of mine where I explored a railway tunnel. It just so happens that I love close to a railway line and a little way along it is a tunnel that I have only seen from afar. The line isn’t known to be a particularly safe place but I figured during daylight hours, this wouldn’t be an issue. I pulled on some old jeans and a T-shirt, left my wallet, phone and identification at home and promptly set off for my date with destiny (that didn’t come out right). The railway line is a somewhat lonely place, running through the last of the farmlands and on to a little wood that few people venture into. Pretty soon I was all alone on the tracks with just the chirping of the crickets filling my ears. At times the embankment towered above me and twice I was tempted to turn back and abandon the expedition but I held my nerve and followed the winding tracks as they meandered through the countryside. As I went round one more bend (how appropriate an analogy for this expedition), I suddenly sa it before me – the dark gaping maw of the tunnel set upon a hillside with a motorway passing far above along the crest of the hill.

I plodded along resolutely, now more curious than afraid and I came right up to the mouth of the tunnel. It was scored with graffiti from those who had come before me and chose this spot to make their mark upon the world; their names and dates immortalized in stone. The tunnel herself held the pride of place with a large plaque proclaiming she was built in 1949. I looked around for any sort of grim warnings ordering me to keep out and with the confidence that can olnly be borne in ignorance, I stepped in and started walking.

I could see a little pinprick of light at the very end and since the earth wasn’t rumbling, I presumed that it was the other end and not a train coming towards me. The tunnel’s pretty long and it gets dark pretty quickly as you go along and wet too because once you’re past the concrete ends, the rock’s damp from runoff rainwater. It also had this menacing smell (yes, menacing as in scary) that oozed out of the wall but thankfully, that was it. The tunnel was deserted so there were no bats, rats and assorted creepy-crawlies to spook me out. I had no flashlight or any thing else to light my way so I relied upon how the ground felt underfoot and made my way cautiously towards the light which had stopped getting any bigger. I felt as though I was walking on the spot, the only thing that kept me going was that occasionally I passed these dark recesses on the walls that I expected a pair of burly hands to shoot out of, grab me, smother me and then it would have been curtains. As I looked back I saw that where I had come form looked just as far away and I figured I was committed so I had no choice but to see the whole thing through.

As I came closer to the other end, I saw a human figure peering in, I became really worried because so far, all my fears had been fed by my imagination but this here was no figment of it. I slipped on a wet sleeper and my right shoe came halfway off. I stopped and put it back on again and continued walking. As I came closer, I saw that the figure stand to one side and squat in the bushes at the entrance. I was now convinced that this person did not wish me well, I swore silently to myself that if I saw another head appear next to his, I’d make a run for it in the direction from whence I came. I kept to the shadows and as the figure stepped more into the light, I saw it held something long in its right hand. I decided to make sure and crept a long slowly whilst focusing on the held object. I was preparing to bolt because with every passing second, the object looked more and more like a club but the figure’s hand turned slightly and I saw the open jaws at the end of the object – it was a large wrench!

He also had a hard-hat and safety clothing on too and looked mightily pissed off to see me there. I was so relieved to see him that I almost ran but he challenged me asking who the f**k I was and I promptly identified myself verbally. Like I said, the guy wasn’t as thrilled to see me as I was to see him. Turned out he was a railway repair-man out fixing a section of track that had been vandalised the night before and I promptly became his prime suspect. By this time I was only too happy to be arrested and carted off to a sturdily-built police cell guarded by lots of gun-wielding officers. He called the local station and told them he had me in custody and was going to bring me in. I followed him very willingly and chatted amiably in response to his laconic questions.

He thought I was crazy.

Well, all we had was a bit of a chat with the stationmaster and two police officers where I’ve managed to clear my name with the help of a neighbour who runs this cybercafe in town which I’m posting from. Later on they told me the tunnel is about a mile long and I was one of only 2 civilians they knew who’d ever walked it.
Yay for me! I walked through a mile-long tunnel.

Oh yeah, I had to give the railway-guy and police £5 (which I’ve borrowed from my neighbour) for their ‘trouble’

Audiophile: Nothing (no mp3 player)
Off my shelf: Nothing (I was empty handed when I left)
Midday Matinee: I suppose that would be this incident (2008)
Starring: Me, a railway repair-man, 2 police officers and the railway station-master
Special guest appearance: The spooky railway tunnel
Directed by: Yours truly

Death warmed over

My computer was attacked by a virus. I had to format the damned thing and re-install everything all over again. I lost quite a few of my documents and programs, thankfully my music & pictures remained intact.

I swear I’m getting a Mac.

Audiophile: Broken Social scene – Fire eye’d boy
Off my shelf: Wilbur Smith – Monsoon
Midday Matinee: The Hidden Fortress (1958)
Starring: Toshiro Mifune
Directed by: Akira Kurosawa

WReCked

Well, it’s official, the 2008 rallying season’s upon us and no surprises for guessing who won the inaugural Rallye Automobile Monte Carlo. Yes, it was once again, the Gallic answer to Germany’s Michael Schumacher, the intrepid Sebastian Loeb. Those Citroen C4’s are proving still hard to beat with only mechanical failure stopping Dani Sordo’s charge for 2nd place and thereby leaving the field open for Ford’s Mikko Hirvonen to take it. Subaru’s Aussie driver Chris Atkinson, claimed a podium finish in 3rd place by a hair over Francois Duval in a Stobart-sponsored 2007 Ford focus WRC.

It was a dramatic win for Atkinson who saw his 23 second lead shorn down to only 1.1 seconds by the time they arrived for the final spectator stage in Monte Carlo. Atkinson who enjoyed home-town advantage on the twisty streets of the circuit, took the last spot on the podium by the skin of his teeth when he fobbed off the determined attentions of the Belgian who put up a spirited fight to make a dead even time on the track.

Subaru’s Petter Solberg came in 5th overall to place the team one point behind Citroen in the manufacturer’s championship. Conrad Rautenbach who was placed 21st overall crashed out in the final stage of the rally when he appeared to have tried to reverse over the finish line but lost control of the vehicle.

More details on the WRC site

Age isn’t just a number………..

This morning was a bit wet so I dilly-dallied around the house trying to draw out the moment I would leave the house for as long as I could. Eventually I was all set at about 9.00am and I went and got Penelope warmed up for the commute. As I drove out in what was then a light drizzle, I was flagged down by one of my neighbours who just happens to be an older ‘gentleman’ of about my father’s age. I know him quite well and have given him lifts into town on many occasions but today was different.

As we drove down and I listened to his usual 5 cents worth of opinions on whatever caught his fancy, everything seemed to be going swimmingly until it was time to drop him off at his regular stop. As I leaned across to open the car door for him I noticed something that wasn’t there before……………………there on the door sill gleamed a big brown BOOGER! I couldn’t believe my eyes and was too shocked to even react as he calmly stepped out the car and with a courteous “thank you, have a nice day”, he shut the door as if he’d done nothing wrong.

He left a booger on my car door.

What are we, Five?

Audiophile: The cure – Friday I’m in love
Off my shelf: Kiran Desai – The inheritance of loss
Midday Matinee: Flags of our fathers (2006)
Starring: Ryan Phillipe, Jesee Bradford, Adam Beach
Directed by: Clint Eastwood

 

Mock my words

And God took up a lump of clay and from it he fashioned an artist and when he was finished, he looked upon his creation and said, ” it is good”. Then he took up the clay that was leftover and from it he made three critics.

With the internet coming of age, the phrase “everybody’s a critic” couldn’t be more true. Virtually everything has a review or a comment appended to it, most of the time by some nameless, faceless person whose competence to pass any sort of judgment we will never get a chance to examine. It gives me the impression that alongside the dyed-in-the wool critics out there that have made a living of pointing out other people’s ‘triumphs & mistakes’ exists another group of pseudo-critics who seem to be seeking fame (or simply recognition) however fleeting by offering an opinion on virtually everything. From Absinthe cocktails to Zimbabwean poetry and everything in between, these people will pin a blurb on it all the time typing in their names and email addresses in hard-to-miss font sizes.

These are the nice, harmless ones whose only crime is having too much time on their hands and the internet’s equivalent of a big mouth. There is another more sinister type of critic, one who appraises their own work. You may know the kind I’m talking about, they write a mediocre novel that even Oxfam would be hard pressed to give away to a remote school library in some literature-starved developing country. The manuscript through a modern miracle is proofread, edited and somehow published and distributed for sale. Here’s the interesting bit, since the internet gives one a certain measure of anonymity, our (exalted?) author then proceeds to ‘buy’ a few copies of his/her own work and then posts numerous glowing reviews of it under various aliases. The end result is the fabrication of a ‘buzz’ on the internet that fashion-victims tend to believe. £4.50 and 6 pages later one realises that they have to put it mildly, had a fast one pulled on them.

Look, I dare to critique the critics!

Audiophile: Peggy Lee – Just one of those things
Off my shelf: Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara – The Motorcycle Diaries
Midday Matinée: The Motorcycle Diaries (2004)
Starring: Gael García Bernal, Rodrigo De la Serna and Mercedes Morán
Directed by: Walter Salles