tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38725032011-06-07T23:35:23.970-07:00Jimmy The Saint's World Of RantIt's on like Donkey KongJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comBlogger1681100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1115124003828775642005-05-03T05:25:00.000-07:002005-05-03T05:40:03.830-07:00WE HAD JOY, WE HAD FUN, WE HAD SEASONS IN THE SUNSome people believe that all goodbyes should be sudden. With that in mind, I'm shutting down my blogspot, but it shall remain here as an archive for some of the most incredible memories of my life, and maybe yours. All good things must come to an end, and tempted as I am to leave you all with some some sort of fluffy tree-hugging advice, the fact Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1114703757313984112005-04-28T08:35:00.000-07:002005-04-28T09:04:54.503-07:00YOU CAN GO WITH THIS, OR YOU CAN GO WITH THATSometimes, the simplest decisions in life can turn into massive existentialist dilemmas that threaten to unweave the very fabric of space-time itself. Example? My MP3 player (an Archos GMini XS200) gayed up last night so I took it back to Dixons and asked if they could swap it. They said yes. It was then that I realised that for £20 more I could get anJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1114534790148903582005-04-26T09:56:00.000-07:002005-04-26T10:17:40.206-07:00ARMOURED CARS AND TANKS AND GUNS CAME TO TAKE AWAY OUR SONSOne of the most difficult/annoying aspects of moving on after a break-up is that everything seemingly reminds you of your ex. There's obvious stuff like books, films, records and clothes but then you start getting into the really tedious shit like locations, toiletries, haircuts, mannerisms and eating habits. When you're watching Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1114347065479470872005-04-24T05:33:00.000-07:002005-04-24T08:40:55.576-07:00LAST OF THE FAMOUS INTERNATIONAL PLAYBOYSNotable famous people I have met... Ozzy Osbourne I've actually met the Double O twice; I served him bread rolls once in a hotel a few years back and all he could say was "Mkksrymmmanaibbm". Maybe he wanted butter or something. The second time was at a signing at Tower Records in Piccadilly Circus (RIP) and all he could say then was "Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1113482875063496322005-04-14T05:15:00.000-07:002005-04-14T05:51:42.570-07:00THOSE WERE THE DAYS MY FRIEND, WE THOUGHT THEY'D NEVER END(Author's note; for maximum effect, listen to theme from Cheers while reading the following passages)The Jolly Miller is a small pub on Conduit Street, just behind Leicester train station. It's a modest place that seats about 100 people and there is very little about it, inside or out, that makes it stand out to the casual observer. It Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1112272025337764192005-03-31T04:13:00.000-08:002005-03-31T04:27:05.336-08:00IF THERE'S HELL BELOW, WE'RE ALL GONNA GOIt amuses me that many people think of Hell as a place where horned imps pour boiling lava on you and stick hot pokers up your arse. If only it were that easy.In my experience, Hell has nothing to do with nerve endings or what we feel outside ourselves. Real torment is what we feel inside, something buried very deep that won't go away and eats at you everyJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1111584078070264472005-03-23T05:18:00.000-08:002005-03-23T05:25:02.153-08:00ALL THE WATER IN THE WORLD CAN'T FILL A BUCKET WITH A HOLEIn marked contrast to my last entry, these are the only words which make sense right now."Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried fromJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1111499379362766152005-03-22T05:38:00.000-08:002005-03-22T05:49:39.363-08:00THERE'S A LOT TO BE DONE WHILE YOUR HEAD IS STILL YOUNGSometimes, the best solutions to life's problems are also the easiest. This became particularly apparent to me last night when I met up with my old mucker and fellow Weezer obsessive Kate Shaw.Kate, like myself, is making sense of the world following a suck-ass split from her partner of several years. Does she mope? Does she sulk? Does she Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1111079295373737552005-03-17T08:48:00.000-08:002005-03-17T09:08:15.376-08:00THE POWER IS ONThe Go! Team are ace. Their album is kaleidoscope of live instruments and samples and it sounds like Sebadoh covering The Avalanches. It's the kind of album where you dig every track and when it gets to the end you press play again so you can enjoy it some more. The songs check into your brain hotel without you realising and go round in loops while you get your lunch or have a Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1110548017611362762005-03-11T05:22:00.000-08:002005-03-11T05:33:37.613-08:00TACTICAL ESPIONAGE ACTIONThis week I have mostly been playing Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater, and a throughly enjoyable blood-thirsty killgasm it is too. Shooting up a big fucking crocodile with your AK-47 and then eating it is most satisfactory, and the camouflage and treating your injury bits are fucking rad. I'm only about 9 hours in and I'm currently stuck cuz I can't find that fucking Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1110202042426258942005-03-07T05:24:00.000-08:002005-03-07T05:27:22.426-08:00SOMEBODY ELSE WAS BY YOUR SIDE, AND HE LOOKED SO SATISFIEDJohnny knew the truth..."Well, you ask me if I'll forget my babyI guess I will some dayI don't like it but I guess things happen that wayYou ask me if I'll get alongI guess I will some wayI don't like it but I guess things happen that wayGod gave me that girl to lean on, Then he put me on my ownHeaven help me be a man And have the strengthJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1109942364382777192005-03-04T04:47:00.000-08:002005-03-04T05:19:24.386-08:00GOT IT JUST DON'T GET IT WHEN THERE'S NOTHING AT ALL"Everybody's talking about it, nobody's doing anything..." - LCD SoundsystemThe problem with music today is that it doesn't have any BALLS. I'm sure I'm not the only one to notice the avalanche of cut n' paste cliches that have been passing themselves off as 'new' music recently. Everywhere I look I see the Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1108992966407665312005-02-21T05:27:00.000-08:002005-02-21T05:36:06.410-08:00I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND WHAT I'M LOOKING FOROn Friday, Boney told me he'd had a Caramac Kit-Kat. Satiated with joy at the thought of such an over-sugared pleasure, I have searched the corner shops of Leicestershire for the fabled treat.Three days later, I haven't found shit, leading me to the harsh but understandable conclusion that Boney was talking out of his arse.The weekend wot I just had was Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1108729662271123412005-02-18T04:19:00.000-08:002005-02-18T04:27:42.273-08:00I'M STRAIGHT LIKE TWELVE O'CLOCK AND NINE FIFTEENInspired by My Chemical Romance, Taking Back Sunday, The Used, Good Charlotte and other shit yank punk bands, I have composed a song, reprinted here in its entirety. I feel the lyrics effortlessly convey what it is to be young and confused in today's society.(Author's note, the pronunciation of the word 'purnk' is designed to give it a more Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1106574761292571692005-01-24T05:23:00.000-08:002005-01-24T05:52:41.293-08:00LOOKING IN MY MIRROR, NOT A JACKER IN SIGHT
Some thoughts;
Veruca Salt's second album was fucking great and those two girls were cute. Why weren't they more successful? Nina Gordon was always my favourite.
Any band that sings about heartbreak is gay. I don't need to hear some fucknut in eye-liner moan about how, like, unfair it was that they split up. Dude, do you really want to flatter her Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1106058413761252362005-01-18T06:09:00.000-08:002005-01-18T06:28:33.270-08:00MY TECHNIQUE IS VERY NECCESSARY
Current addictions/obsessions...
GRANT THEFT AUTO: SAN ANDREAS; While not the all conquering masterpiece the gaming press has proclaimed it to be, it's still pretty fucking goddamn good. Utterly huge and tougher than old boots soaked in vinegar, but it's perfect for beating back the January blues and any game where you do can do drive-by shootings to fucking Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1105969847175407452005-01-17T05:09:00.000-08:002005-01-17T05:57:06.386-08:00TIME DESTROYS ALL THINGS
Who's the ballsiest actor in the world today? Russell Crowe? Robert De Niro? Sandra Bullock? (that last one was a joke). Nope. The ballsiest actor in the world, whose sheer determination to transform oneself in the name of art and bear their soul to the camera, nay, the very world is...">Monica Belluci.
Monica Belluci, better known to the world as That Bird With The BigJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1104501188370090092004-12-31T05:39:00.000-08:002004-12-31T05:53:08.370-08:00EVERYTHING'S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT
2004. Fuck. It was quite a year, and not all of it good. But y'know what? Who cares? I get the feeling I'm not quite ready for perfection or lasting happiness yet, and not because I don't deserve it, but because I'm still figuring a lot of shit out, and will prolly continue to do so for a while. Until then, I continue to learn, and I'll keep getting better.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1102801986467919512004-12-11T13:51:00.000-08:002004-12-11T13:53:06.466-08:00.....
"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on a silence apart
Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would beJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1102080233981853712004-12-03T05:21:00.000-08:002004-12-03T05:32:16.033-08:00IT'S UNIVERSAL, YOU PLAY WITH FIRE IT MAY HURT YOU
Why the hell have The Vines got back together? That's a bit like Good Charlotte getting abducted by aliens only to be sent back when it becomes apparent just how shit they are. Apparently, junk food-munching Nirvana plagiarist Craig Nicholls has a form of autism. Dude, I could have told you he was a spaz just by looking at him.
Goodbye (for nowJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1101303803265236102004-11-24T05:18:00.000-08:002004-11-24T05:43:23.266-08:00JUST ANOTHER VICTIM
It's a lonely life being a Helmet fan. Or at least, it is if you're me. I bought the albums (including awkward b-side compilations), got the t-shirt, wrote a wordy career retrospective for a magazine read by 12-year-olds who like Good Charlotte, and at the end of it all, here I stand, alone.
It's not easy risking the mockery of your friends and peers with double entendres Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1100784892268214752004-11-18T05:13:00.000-08:002004-11-18T05:34:52.270-08:00I'M THE ONLY BLACK GOD, AND I CAME TO ROCK THE SPOT
I only have one 'Ol Dirty Bastard album, his second, and from what I gather it's not as good as his first. But that's beside the point. Whatever it's comparative quality may be, it's still pretty fucking good. I bought it (Nigga Please) four years ago in Paris on the way back from visiting some friends and I can remember moving through streets Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1100007067208844952004-11-09T05:14:00.000-08:002004-11-09T05:37:53.513-08:00WORSE THINGS HAPPEN AT SEA
We're all doomed! George W. Bush is still president, our own Government are a bunch of morally bankrupt knob-jockeys, the weather's gone shit, John Peel's dead, Metal Gear Solid 3 still doesn't have a UK release date and Paris Hilton continues to enjoy endless privilege while you had a pot noodle for dinner last night. Everything's fucked!
...Or is it?
Fear not, my Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1099921388906308722004-11-08T05:40:00.000-08:002004-11-08T05:43:08.906-08:00AND THE KNOWLEDGE IS BORN JUST LIKE A FOETUS
Best believe I'm still on point. Proper bloggage soon. Can you dig it?
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1097672166948778062004-10-13T05:49:00.000-07:002004-10-13T05:56:06.946-07:00GOOD MORNING CAPTAIN
Holy god! Slint have reformed and are playing All Tomorrow's Parties in February! Don't believe me? Click here, chicohttp://www.pitchforkmedia.com/news/04-10/12.shtml">Click here, chico>
In other news, going out is fun. And I'm coming to London this weekend. Hit me up via email if you wanna hook that shit up, god. Peace.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1093955449835047212004-08-31T05:14:00.000-07:002004-08-31T05:36:45.110-07:00ONLY IN DREAMS
Are you ever freaked out by the total and utter randomness of your dreams? It never ceases to amaze me how our subconscious can depict scenarios, images and landscapes that have absolutely nothing to do with whatever has been on our mind lately. This became particularly evident to me last night, when my brain put together the following coherent but completely inexplicable scenarioJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1092660606828955112004-08-16T05:38:00.000-07:002004-08-16T05:50:06.826-07:00PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES
As a professional journalist, it's my duty to share information so that you, the public, can better your lives. With that in mind, all of you, and I really do mean ALL of you, need to know that watching Mona Lisa Smile is like taking a two-hour dump and the only thing you have to read on the toilet is a pamphlet about skirts. This film is so devoid of character it Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1091009762130217902004-07-28T03:10:00.000-07:002004-07-28T03:16:02.130-07:00I WAS LOOKING FOR A JOB AND THEN I FOUND A JOB
Hot news! I'm a journalist! As in, write-for-a-newspaper-and-get-paid-for-it-journalist. How nice. Good timing too, as I was so poor I was considering performing sexual favours in exchange for out-of-date food.
Bogus. As I write this I've spent the last two days chasing after crooked chicken farmers (no, really!) and hope to bury those fuggingJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1088769155286982522004-07-02T04:44:00.000-07:002004-07-02T04:52:35.286-07:00WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?
I saw Kiera Knightley on GMTV this morning and realised, somewhat disturbingly, that she looks like Morrisey, only less pretty. Chortle.
My course is finished and my brain is burnt. I'm going to Ireland with Ro for a few days to chill out like a motherfucker.
Stay tuned for a rather more substantial offering soon. Until then, please go away and leave me alone.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1087381679682879172004-06-16T03:10:00.000-07:002004-06-16T03:27:59.683-07:00LITTLE MAN, WHAT NOW?
Urgh. Much like the death toll in Iraq following the formal declaration of an 'end' to the conflict last May, my postgrad seems to be pissing on my chips despite the fact that it's, like, y'know, finished n' shit. I seem to be in a perpetual state of semi-exhaustion, I can't go to the Summer Solstice with Lee, I still don't have a gamecube AND I managed to miss both Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1086606513807726602004-06-07T04:06:00.000-07:002004-06-07T04:08:33.806-07:00THAT JOKE ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE
If you're still watching Big Brother, then you're shit.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1083340324089168712004-04-30T08:52:00.000-07:002004-04-30T08:56:28.856-07:00THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE
Free stuff is great! While walking home in the rain a few days ago, I should've been thinkingdark and nasty thoughts like driving a bus full of orphans off a cliff or something equally questionable, but no! My mood was up, and why? Because my walkman was blocking out rainy badness with the new Graham Coxon album (which, by the way, is ace) wot I had procured Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1083065602043709602004-04-27T04:33:00.000-07:002004-04-27T04:38:12.890-07:00IN A BEAUTIFUL PLACE OUT IN THE COUNTRY
Went wandering and found this on Pitchfork; a great review of one of the best records ever made. Check it out, kiddywinkles.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1082718958065025342004-04-23T04:15:00.000-07:002004-04-23T04:20:00.263-07:00WHERE THE BREEZE IS SWEET AS SHALAMAR
How I spent my easter break in Ireland...
I watched several DVDs.
I tried on a pair of shoes that looked stupid on me (Vans' Dr T's in brown and orange).
I went looking for the new Tortoise album but they didn't have it on vinyl.
I saw Calexico! (exclamation mark denotes enthusiasm and pleasure)
I made Chilli and Lasagne (but not together).
I wasted Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1082634508771124042004-04-22T04:48:00.000-07:002004-04-22T04:53:26.966-07:00WE WON'T GET FOOLED AGAIN
The Top 5 most tedious cliches I've read in band interviews are;
5) "We just do what we do, and if anyone else likes it, that's a bonus!"
4) "This album is a real progression/step forward for us."
3) "I've got the best job in the world!"
2) "If it weren't for our fans, we wouldn't even be here."
And at number one, with extra tediousness, it's...
1) "Punk Rock saved Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1082375939000029352004-04-19T04:09:00.000-07:002004-04-19T05:02:55.356-07:00I JUDGE WISELY, AS IF NOTHING EVER SURPRISED ME
Jimmy The Saint is proud to present.....THE RANDOM DVD ROUND-UP; staying up late and watching films so you don't have to.
TERMINATOR 3: RISE OF THE MACHINES
I actually saw two thirds of this on a pirate DVD last year at Ro's family home
when I was unbelievably sick with uber-tonsilitis, but the damn thing gayed up on me just before the third act.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1080909758583232992004-04-02T04:42:00.000-08:002004-04-02T04:46:12.856-08:00IF YOU SHOOT THE HEAD, YOU KILL THE GHOUL
If it ain't broke, why fix it? If it functions perfectly on every level and requires no additional maintenance or upgrades, why even touch it? Such questions threaten to bury the remake of Dawn Of The Dead on sight. The mere idea seems destined to fall flat on its face; Hollywood studio manhandles cerebral classic, does away with the wry satirical Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1080212794941039032004-03-25T03:06:00.000-08:002004-03-25T03:11:32.186-08:00FUNCTION IS THE KEY
"I think people think that I’m a hardcore fundamentalist, when I’m not at all. Or if I am a fundamentalist then I’m only fundamental about tolerance, openness and joy."
- Ian MacKaye (Fugazi)
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1080036608237859332004-03-23T02:10:00.000-08:002004-03-23T02:15:23.123-08:00PREPARE TO BE DAZZLED
Jesus Fucking Christ!Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1079957372901136492004-03-22T04:09:00.000-08:002004-03-22T04:18:57.686-08:00WHEN I PRESS A SPECIAL KEY IT PLAYS A LITTLE MELODY
KRAFTWERK, LONDON BRIXTON ACADEMY, SATURDAY MARCH 20 2004
Lester Bangs once wrote of Kraftwerk's Florian Schneider that 'he could press a button and blow up half the world without batting an eyelid'. Such a quote sums the band up perfectly, for it is their chilled detatchment that is their greatest strength and simultaneously, their most Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1079548762637226112004-03-17T10:39:00.000-08:002004-03-17T10:42:36.013-08:00NO MORE HEROES ANYMORE
Jesus H Christ, why are people even taking Courtney Love seriously anymore? I've stumbled across album reviews, articles, dissections and all manner of guff recently and I am left gobsmacked that this Attention-seeking, PR-craving and ultimately talentless celebrity junkie gets even a smidgen of legitimate attention. And criticising her doesn't make me sexist, it just Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1079449098793099302004-03-16T06:35:00.000-08:002004-03-16T08:51:42.420-08:00HELL YEAH!
Its nearly Spring! Thank fucking Christ! I say 'nearly' because if I did acknowledge the formal arrival of said season, then the skies would darken and it would start raining trout or some such shit as the British weather is notorious for inducing a false sense of security. So, anyway, I don't have to freeze my tits off in the flat anymore, which is good. On the other hand, I haveJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1078936232975012082004-03-10T08:30:00.000-08:002004-03-10T08:33:37.090-08:00SPITTIN OUT LYRICS, HOMIE I WET YA
Haiku for a Postgrad, by James Gates, aged 26 and a bit,
Shorthand is so hard
My brain has trouble coping
Want to play Zelda
I thank you.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1078407663322370612004-03-04T05:21:00.000-08:002004-03-04T10:56:23.716-08:00I'LL STIR FRY YOU IN MY WOK
With all the stressness and messness of modern life, it's time we celebrated the simple things, the pleasures of the flesh, if you will. With that in mind, here's a little something to keep you well fed and happy wth minimum effort involved. I knicked this recipe off the legendary Dan Chippendale (for it is he) a few years back and it brings many smiles to all who Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1077626266341373512004-02-24T04:36:00.000-08:002004-02-24T04:40:30.483-08:00I PROMISE I WON'T KEEP YOU LONG; I'LL KEEP YOU FOREVER
I now own the Slayer boxset. I rule. More bloggage soon.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1076495435051464522004-02-11T02:30:00.000-08:002004-02-11T02:34:11.373-08:00YOU KNOW MY ATTRIBUTES SO DON'T ACT CUTE
With exams on the horizon and a workload heavier than a blue whale, I can safely say that the only things keeping me sane at the moment are; Rowena, beer, My Morning Jacket and going out to eat.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1076345271806470072004-02-09T08:47:00.000-08:002004-02-09T08:50:16.153-08:00BITCHES AIN'T SHIT BUT HO'S AND TRIX
If I shot Paris Hilton, I wonder if anyone would give me any money?
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1075907277047486292004-02-04T07:07:00.000-08:002004-02-04T07:25:45.826-08:00IT AIN'T WHAT YOU DO, IT'S THE WAY THAT YOU DO IT
I've noticed a few people have already written off Teflon Tony's decision to launch another whitewash-by-numbers inquiry, this time examining the credibility of British intelligence in the build-up to the War in Iraq. And I can see why. Were I a betting man, I'd bet the format of the whole sorry affair would go a little something like this;
(Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1075397489718390212004-01-29T09:31:00.000-08:002004-01-29T09:33:39.610-08:00DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES
Amidst the fallout and aftershocks of the big-budget washout that was the Hutton Report, some sections of the media, not to mention our own bleedin' Government, are suffering from a dramatic loss of perspective. If we are to believe all we read, then the BBC are corrupt, inefficient, autocratic, pathological liars who fart large blurps of newspoo into the innocent mouths Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1074518062423810062004-01-19T05:10:00.000-08:002004-01-22T15:47:21.030-08:00THEY DID THE MONSTER MASH
Fucking hell!
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1074189540770269832004-01-15T09:59:00.000-08:002004-01-15T10:00:51.840-08:00"IT'S LIKE IMPERSONATING RORY BREMNER"
I don't want to sound negative, but Jet are so fucking awful they make make we want to shove pigshit into my ears just so I don't have to listen to them.
That's all I have to say.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1074007158674631702004-01-13T07:19:00.000-08:002004-01-13T07:21:49.420-08:00IF THEY MOVE, KILL 'EM
I've spotted The Face magazine including Crobar on the 'up' end of their cultural barometer. Though I don't drink there anymore (cuz I moved, dig?) I sympathise with any poor soul who may suddenly find themselves under siege from trend-hopping dipshits in trucker hats hogging the jukebox to play AC/DC songs they only heard for the first time last year (cuz The Face told Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1073474971205687862004-01-07T03:29:00.000-08:002004-01-07T03:31:11.890-08:00MORE THAN A FEELING
Somewhere in the hazy summer of 2002, Katy and I were at a Breeders gig in London (I could just write 'we were chatting', but inserting the location makes both of us look so much cooler, don't you think?) and in between overpriced tins of Kronenbourg and uneventful support bands, we got onto the topic of unfulfilled ambition. Being that both of us were in our early twenties Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1073045862676256742004-01-02T04:17:00.000-08:002004-01-02T04:19:16.840-08:00IN THE MEANTIME
Re-opening for business soon. Sit tight. Love you all.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1071236384801740862003-12-12T05:39:00.000-08:002003-12-12T05:40:51.090-08:00I'M THE OPERATOR WITH MY POCKET CALCULATOR
The weather is shit and the flat has gone arctic. I do, however, have two tickets to see Return Of The King next week and two more to see Kraftwerk in March of 2004, so it's not all bad. I also really want to splurge lots of cash on stuff. Does that make me a bad person?
While I'm here I'm also gonna say well done to Chris Martin. I read an Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1070446225903330472003-12-03T02:10:00.000-08:002003-12-03T02:20:26.716-08:00ATTITUDE LEGIT CUZ I'M TEARING UP SHIT
Oh mercy, where will it all end? Some of you may have noticed that I'm posting less frequently and with progressively duller ramblings. Or at least, I think they're dull. Fear not! I have no intention of leaving my blog discarded and unloved like a little lost kitten. In fact, I actually dreamt about kittens two nights in a row this week, but that's Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1069248500250116902003-11-19T05:14:00.000-08:002003-11-19T05:28:55.390-08:00THE MASSES ARE ASSES
I'm probably not the only person to spot this so early, but I find something rather sinister in the fact that the latest Michael Jackson debacle coincides rather neatly with Bush's visit to the UK. If the federal government in the US wanted to divert attention away from a potential PR disaster overseas, what better way than to turn the nation's eye towards the questionable Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1068651053792316482003-11-12T07:18:00.000-08:002003-11-12T07:32:16.280-08:00YEAH IS WHAT WE HAD
I am downtown Tokyo, and my accumulated workload is Godzilla. And it vexes me. However, props to Grandaddy for 90 minutes or so of pastoral alt-rock bliss last night, in the the salubrious surroundings of Wolverhampton. They're a far more blissed-out bunch than they used to be but their beards are more impressive than ever and they can still rock the fuck out when they put Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1068460726579493982003-11-10T02:38:00.000-08:002003-11-10T02:39:09.700-08:00ROCK IS DEAD
Whilst hitting the town on Saturday night and visiting a selection of night spots around Leicester, a simple thought gently entered my consciousness, only to fully manifest itself on this Monday morning;
Guitar music, at the moment, is really fucking shit.
Quite a generalisation, I agree, but not one without ample evidence to back it up. On Saturday night I heard a variety of Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1068205689811586822003-11-07T03:08:00.000-08:002003-11-07T03:49:10.216-08:00"SHE'S GOT A FAT ASS!"
The Matrix Revolutions does something almost unheard of in Hollywood; it forces the viewer to think for themselves. Anyone looking for easy answers to what has become an increasingly messy saga will be sorely dissapointed, for Revolutions throws more questions at it's audience than the previous two films combined, so much so that you almost get the impression that the Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1067878316938512302003-11-03T08:51:00.000-08:002003-11-03T08:52:11.093-08:00EL SCORCHO
Humans are a fascinating breed. A short while ago, the girl sitting behind me was approached by her male friend, who I'm fairly sure wanted to get in her pants. He sat there for a few moments, making small talk and adopting a 'cool' posture in his chair, but even I could detect his willingness to please.
He casually mentioned cigarettes and band practice before trying to secure Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1067435624195900892003-10-29T05:36:00.000-08:002003-10-29T05:58:20.936-08:00LISTS OF LISTS
The Long Dark Winter is finally upon us. The Weather has suddenly gone really shit, and last night I fell asleep on the couch and drooled half my body weight onto a cushion the size of a small toaster. Dark days indeed, my friends. So I rely upon the following to keep me sane;
1) The love of a good woman :)
2) Extremely radalicious new album from Ozma
3) Chasing an NES and Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1066991089387781022003-10-24T03:21:00.000-07:002003-10-24T03:25:42.123-07:00I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF
"What I used to be
Will pass away
And then you'll see
That all I want now
Is happiness
For you and me."
- Elliot Smith (RIP)
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1066390216642783642003-10-17T04:30:00.000-07:002003-10-17T04:30:16.386-07:00YOU CAN GO WITH THIS, OR YOU CAN GO WITH THAT
I wholeheartedly endorse the following activities...
a) Light some candles and listen to Radio 4 before you go to bed at night. Makes you feel all cosy-like.
b) Go see Finding Nemo. You'll forget you're watching a cartoon.
c) Treat yourself to a haircut.
d) Chop up a cucumber and plunge it into some houmous. Nyom.
e) Buy some new shoes. IJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1066132404031768122003-10-14T04:33:00.001-07:002003-10-17T04:31:26.166-07:00HOW YA LIKE ME NOW?
Time is never time at all. Life is a happy, continuous blur at the moment, punctuated by hoovering and the occasional bad hair day. I never got the chance to say goodbye to most of you but being I generally dislike goodbyes, perhaps it's better that way. For those who do not know, I have moved to Leicester and have started my postgard in Journalism There are, of course, Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1065022207553785252003-10-01T08:21:00.000-07:002003-10-01T08:30:29.310-07:00I GET DEEP LIKE A BABY SEAL
Where have I gone? A song says it all...
"Serve the masters
Sinister bastards
All the worlds are
Colliding all around you
Knowledge escapes you
Society rapes you
I've got my notebooks
And I'm going back to
Big school!
It's the big school!
Now we're talking about
The big school!
Now if I could free you
What would you be then
Look at my eyes through theJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1064242955591994152003-09-22T08:00:00.000-07:002003-09-22T08:02:35.733-07:00YOU'RE REALLY GROWING ON ME
Sometimes, it takes a shreiking man-queen in a leopardskin catsuit to make the world a better place. That's why The Darkness are rocking my world. Smell the glove.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1064059888331908222003-09-20T05:11:00.000-07:002003-09-20T05:14:02.200-07:00JOHNNY, WE HARDLY KNEW YE
Johnny Cash is dead. He's been dead for over a week now, and I still can't think of anything useful to say. I could say what everyone else is saying, that we've lost a true original, a voice unlike any other, a pure spirit, a geunine outlaw, etc etc etc, and I'd be treading a largely beaten path. It's no surprise to me that Cash died when he did; after June passed Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1063135017485134432003-09-09T12:16:00.000-07:002003-09-09T12:20:30.520-07:00MY UNUSUAL STYLE WILL CONFUSE YOU ALL A WHILE
I am ill. But happy. And I met David Bellamy at the weekend. Trippy! Circumstances are too elaborate to go into right now, but he was an affable fellow, and being somewhat advanced in his years, now sports a huge white beard and thick white hair, thus making him look like God. Ergo, Rowena and I got his divine blessing by getting our pictures Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1062530702169528232003-09-02T12:25:00.000-07:002003-09-09T12:21:25.200-07:00I'M SO FAR BEHIND I THINK I'M FIRST
Five rather horrible weeks working in City of The Damned (aka London) came to an end last Friday. As a result, I feel lighter in spirit and heavier in wallet, but if I ever go back it will only be to watch the place BURN. Time has passed in terrifyingly swift fashion, and highlights are hard to remember. I can, however, tell you that My Morning Jacket are Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1061393601436251962003-08-20T08:33:00.000-07:002003-08-20T08:41:53.956-07:00(A little while before I decided to write wot you is about to read, I discovered that Sam Philips, owner of Sun Records, had recently passed away. It was Sam Philips who let a young truck driver named Elvis Presley make a short recording for his mother, thus changing the course of popular music and whatnot. Sam was a visionary who saw music as a pure expression from deep inside, and he watchedJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1061215055532658342003-08-18T06:57:00.000-07:002003-08-18T07:01:15.443-07:00THE SHERRIFF SAID 'SON, I'M GONNA WATCH YOU DIE'...
Where have I been? Everywhere! What have I been doing? Everything! Details to follow, but to tide you over until then, here's a review of Himsa's rad show in Camden a few weeks back. Stay tuned, you naughty little badgers...
Like a planet tearing itself apart before it's eventual implosion, Punk Rock is peeling off it's last layers beforeJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1060019082505591602003-08-04T10:44:00.000-07:002003-08-04T10:44:42.386-07:00MOTHERFUCKERS BE TRIPPIN'
Causality really can be a headfuck sometimes; last week, on a Tuesday I believe, I had had a long, hard day and was attempting to buy a ticket home at Queen's Park tube (left my travelcard at home as I am stoopid). The silly bitch put the wrong date on my ticket, so rather than let me through the barriers due to an honest mistake, the guard made me cue up again, only IJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058793616135789052003-07-21T06:20:00.000-07:002003-07-21T06:20:16.063-07:00FORTY SHADES OF GREEN
Milton Keynes is what will happen to the world once Big Business starts and wins World War III (and God knows they're doing a pretty good job already). Vast suburban concrete landscapes will cover the earth, smothering it with ant-like conformity. Houses will be neatly lined and run parallel to long, wide roads that will guide the worker drones to their designated Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058543610591529822003-07-18T08:53:00.000-07:002003-07-18T08:54:13.470-07:00I'M READY TO LOSE MY MIND BUT INSTEAD I USE MY MIND
I was gonna write a whole load of gay-fluffy-bunny-life-goes-on-bollocks as I prepare to fly back to the UK, but then I realised that if Rowena became a rapper she'd be called Def Ro. That's some funny shit right there.
Get ready you punks, Daddy's coming home.
"Come down off the cross, we can use the wood...."
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058466011943582592003-07-17T11:20:00.000-07:002003-07-17T11:20:11.896-07:00THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE
Jerry Bruckheimer knows that when he dies, he's going straight to hell, and Satan will be waiting for him at the gates, waving a Pearl Harbour DVD at him and flashing his best 'I-told-you-so' smile. Perhaps this burst of conscience is the reason he decided to lend his name to the story of Veronica Guerin, an Irish journalist who was the victim of a brutal gangland Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058366360900746872003-07-16T07:39:00.000-07:002003-07-16T07:51:47.893-07:00WE ARE PROGRAMMED JUST TO DO ANYTHING YOU WANT US TO
Good Robots...
BEYONCE KNOWLES; Able to shake it in places where most women don't even have places, the Bootybot 3000 represents the pinnacle of mechanical r n'b perfection. Her bellybutton is actually a modem, you know.
CHRISTOPHER WALKEN; His eyes are made of the same chemical compund they used to freeze Walt Disney, and his voice Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058298582683581952003-07-15T12:49:00.000-07:002003-07-15T12:54:01.980-07:00NONE BUT OURSELVES CAN FREE OUR MINDS
It's strange how the actions of a figure you've never met can inspire you. I got home tonight in the midst of a grey, stuffy evening where it felt a little harder to smile than usual, and my mood got more sullen and lethargic as the evening went on. Popping in front of the TV to watch The Simpsons, I stumbled across a documentary on UK History about Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058188091385515922003-07-14T06:08:00.000-07:002003-07-14T06:09:22.860-07:00EVEN MY SURE THINGS FALL THROUGH
My little stint of living and working in Cork finally draws to a close this Friday, so it's just as well that I FINALLY went out to get a live music fix when Calexico rolled into town on Saturday night. I can thank The Mighty Ted for introducing me to their Tex-Mex pick n' mix soundscaping a few years ago, and they were in fine form on Saturday night. Like a Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1058099539951241672003-07-13T05:32:00.000-07:002003-07-13T05:32:19.943-07:00SPANK MY ASS AND CALL ME CHARLIE
I'm absorbing a lot of 'Death' media right now. Reading Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (897 pages of men with guns making the world a safer place by going on a killing spree), playing Rainbow Six: Rogue Spear and Metal Gear Solid on my PC (men with guns sneak up behind more men with guns and shoot missiles up their anal cavities) and watching Dog Soldiers on DVD (men Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1057939415083301152003-07-11T09:03:00.000-07:002003-07-11T12:26:51.040-07:00SECOND VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST
Something strange seems to be happening to me lately; I can't stop watching Mall Punk music videos. Avril Lavigne, Busted, Good Charlotte, Simple Plan, I stumble across them all during my frenzied bouts of channel surfing. By rights, I should shudder in disgust and change the channel, but I don't. Like driving past a car-crash or watching Schindler's List, I am Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1057827321713787342003-07-10T01:55:00.000-07:002003-07-10T01:58:30.963-07:00YOU LIVE IT OR LIE IT
Thoughts dash back and forth across my consciousness like ferrets on crack. Good Charlotte are so awful they make me want to puke blood. Tom Clancy really does know his shit for someone with no service experience in the US Military. Raw garlic and cheese tastes awesome. Slo Burn still rock after these years. Windtalkers kicks bee-hind. James Hetfield is getting fat.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1057501397804151942003-07-06T07:23:00.000-07:002003-07-06T07:25:54.520-07:00RAPPENIN' IS WHUT'S HAPPENIN'
London. What a shithole. But it could've been worse. You could've lived there in 1888 and would've had to tolerate Johnny Depp's funny cockney accent. And lots of whores. And men with funny beards. And Bilbo Baggins would be after you. I watched From Hell last night to take whatever pleasure I could from Hollywood's depiction of my hometown as a festering Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1057175321089968572003-07-02T12:48:00.000-07:002003-07-02T12:48:41.060-07:00MY ONLY CRIME IS THAT I'M TOO DAMN KIND
"Whatever I can do, I will, cuz I'm good like that..."
- Zwan
You may not think it to look at me, but, on occasion, I am actually quite a nice person. No, really, hear me out! Well, even if you don't agree, there are people out there who do, so I give love to them...
SLINKY; For ace-ing herJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1056984860490882512003-06-30T07:54:00.000-07:002003-06-30T08:02:50.120-07:00THAT JOKE ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE
Is it me, or is Ashton Kutcher the most sinister man walking the planet? The whole world seems to be falling in love with him, despite the fact that his biggest accomplishments to date are a shit Bill-And-Ted remake and an even shitter smart arse prank show which, the Justin Timberlake one aside, is as entertaining as getting sat on by an elephant. Hey, look! Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-1056910207058203602003-06-29T11:10:00.000-07:002003-06-29T11:10:07.060-07:00HONESTY IS MY ONLY EXCUSE
For a young, red-blooded male growing up in the wilds of Putney, surely there can be no greater heroes than Metallica. The recent MTV tribute and Kerrang retrospective have encouraged me to dig up their old abums and lose myself to a wave of metal nostalgia.
I pretty much fulfilled every fanboy cliche during the peak of my worship for the band ('92 - '96); the Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-960180582003-06-25T08:14:00.000-07:002003-06-25T08:14:59.993-07:00DO YOU NOTICE I'M GONE?
Cultural mastication from the past month;
Okay, there's a new Metallica album out and it's reasonably rad. Heavy and fast and James sounds like he's literally choking on his own rage. Sadly, you can also hear the bits where Lars had to 'insert' a drum part high up in the mix cuz he's so fat, bald and rich he can't play drums anymore. At the time of writing, Frantic Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-957249032003-06-16T11:28:00.000-07:002003-06-16T11:28:05.360-07:00DON'T CALL IT A COMEBACK
Reports of my death have been justly exagerrated (did I spell that right? Probably not). Here is some notable activities since my last bloggage;
a) Quality time with Slinky
b) Joyous reunion with Owlboy and Lestar City Squadron
c) Horse bonding; I walk them, I feed them, I sing them Johnny Cash. They nod appreciatively.
d) Cooking with love, but overcooking the Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-950981592003-05-30T14:58:00.000-07:002003-05-30T14:58:59.316-07:00THERE IS NO SPOON (VER 2.0)
The hardest thing to do after watching The Matrix Reloaded, other than speculate on it's flaws, is to look for an angle. Even now, three hours or so after emerging from the cinema dazed and buzzing, I'm still wondering where to begin. Days prior to seeing the film, my only wish was that it would be just as mind-blowing as the first, not so much in it's visuals (Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-950342602003-05-29T07:07:00.000-07:002003-05-29T07:12:17.000-07:00THERE'S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOWBUSINESS
Recent entertainment news wot is worth a mention;
1) LORD OF THE RINGS: THE MUSICAL!
Hairy-footed midgets rejoice! Soon your name will be in lights as an 8 million pound song-and-dance extravaganza is set to open in London's West End in 2005. I personally would love to see the Uruk-Hai do some of that high-kicking chorus-line shit like in Chicago or Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-949539152003-05-27T12:51:00.000-07:002003-05-27T12:51:34.693-07:00CRAZY INSANE, GOT NO BRAIN
Throughout the centuries, scientists and psychologists have toiled endlessly in an attempt to one day find a cure for mental instability and insanity. From Electro-shock Therapy to Prozac, the finest minds in the world have spent lifetimes deliberating over a dilemma as old as Planet Earth. But only I have found an answer. Maybe not the answer, but an answer Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-949106802003-05-26T14:19:00.000-07:002003-05-26T14:19:58.443-07:00IT'S TOO CLOSE TO HOME AND IT'S TOO NEAR THE BONE
"I don't find humour funny."
- Morrissey
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-948629742003-05-25T09:06:00.000-07:002003-05-25T09:06:57.636-07:00LOOKIN' IN MY MIRROR, NOT A JACKER IN SIGHT...
Capsule reviews of recently viewed DVDs;
a) RING; Not-very-scary Jap creepitude. Approximately 6 minutes of genuine menace sandwiched between bad lighting
and a heroine you couldn't a toss about. Sayanora.
b) ENEMY AT THE GATES; Pretty boy Jude Law is the world's deadliest Commie sniper, and only child murderer Ed Harris can stop him. Classy Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-948264472003-05-24T06:47:00.000-07:002003-05-24T06:55:43.000-07:00THERE IS NO TRY
"Is this book about movies, mythology, religious belief, subatomic particles, sorcery, computer science, schizophrenia, messianic prophecy, satanic conspiracy, mass hysteria, postmodernism? What? All or none of the above? How much of it should you take seriously; all of it, none of it, or just some parts of it?"
- Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-946462272003-05-20T12:04:00.000-07:002003-05-20T12:04:42.876-07:00WE DON'T NEED A KEY, WE'LL BREAK IN
I stumbled across an interesting fact recently; 60% of the United States' Armed Forces consists of men and women from ethnic minorities, most of whom are either black or hispanic. Not too long after raising my eyebrows at such a statistic, I caught a Nas video where he points out how at one point, Africa was the center of the World, establishing the first Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-946009342003-05-19T14:58:00.000-07:002003-05-19T14:59:52.000-07:00MORE THAN WORDS
I invented a word today. I invented a word today whilst listening to the new Four Tet album. I invented a word, and that word is...
(pause)
Smoothular.
That is the word I invented today
(pause)
Smoothular.
That is all.
PS Happy Birthday, Boney! You really are a hot man-bitch. And you're also quite smoothular.
Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-944939262003-05-17T03:52:00.000-07:002003-05-17T08:52:01.000-07:00BYE JUNE
"What June did for me was post signs along the way, lift me when I was weak, encourage me when I was discouraged, and love me when I was alone and felt unlovable. She is the greatest woman I have ever known. Nobody else, except my mother, comes close. "
- Johnny Cash
June Carter-Cash was the love and light of Johnny Cash's life. His inspiration, saviour, friend and Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-943773262003-05-15T00:36:00.000-07:002003-05-15T00:36:59.000-07:00WHAT BURNS NEVER RETURNS
The more kind-hearted amongst you might well feel like joining hands, screwing your eyes shut and humming Amazing Grace in honour of young Rowena Griffin, who today begins the first exam of her two-week Chemistry finals. Perhaps if we all channel our positive life force towards a shitty exam hall in London, she will kick molecular ass and in return bless us with her Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-942527662003-05-13T00:57:00.000-07:002003-05-15T00:24:39.000-07:00SOMTIMES I TELL MYSELF A STORY
It's important for children to believe they can make a difference, that's why when I have my first child, I shall name them Maximum Gayness (Max for short). They will revel in their individuality (when their teacher calls the register at school; "Jones...Watson...Smith...GAYNESS!") and when they call friends or business associates, the person taking their call Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3872503.post-941618502003-05-11T12:59:00.000-07:002003-05-11T13:01:58.000-07:00THIS IS THE NEWS!
It's just occured to me that in between posting lists of lists and poignant lyrics for a badly missed young lady, some of you out there might be wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life (I realise such a group might be in the minority, but hey! I still gots love for y'all). Well, it goes a little sumthin' like this; I'm currently living in Ireland for a short period Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01114763420180738172noreply@blogger.com