27 February 2008

Standing on the dark canal, by the gasworks...Celebrate the ghost gone by, when the love hurts...

You'll all be pleased to know I've recovered from my girl-induced funk and am ready to face the world again. The kind words and friendly jibes and pro-bono counselling from the folks back home certainly did wonders for my self-esteem. But I'll tell you, nothing makes you realise your own self worth like a drunken snog with a married woman at 3am in a seedy bar in Shoreditch (which from now on will be known as Fo'Sho'Ditch).

It was a bumper week for moochers last week. I won a free double pass to a private viewing of the Ducamp, Man Ray and Picabia exhibition at the Tate Museum on Tuesday. They were a bunch of artist friends who hung out in Paris a lot in the early 1900's and inspired each others' art with in-jokes and the desire to subvert existing art forms by combining and defiling them, like using garish colours in a cubist painting...blasphemy! They were interested in ideas and were jaded with the existing forms of art so together they created the Dadaist movement, which is basically an absurdist art form and allows you to do pretty much whatever you want. Barry Humphries was a Dadaist in his early life and you could argue that Dame Edna Everidge is the most enduring creative symbol of that genre. Man Ray was principaly a photographer and he invented solarisation and rayograms, and he was also part of the Paris writers group who created surrealism. The art itself was interesting but I have a love-hate thing going with most abstract expressionism and most of the time I just don't get it. I've seen some of Man Ray's sculptures in other surrealism exhibitions, but Duchamp's "layer" paintings were probably the highlight.

I also blagged a free pass to a screening of 'Edge of Heaven', a film about Turkish people living in Germany. I went there straight after work so I was wearing my square bear clothes which, combined with the loud crunching from my enormous packet of Sainsbury's cheese and onion crisps, earned me scornful glances from my cinema-going comrades. What, I can't like arthouse AND crisps? Just because your arms were too full of berets and Fellini posters and espresso machines and ironic cardigans that you couldn't get it together to bring some snacks don't be staring at me, Artschool! I'll come at'cha! Like a shark with knees! And let's not forget that we're ALL here because we got free tickets, you tight-arse artschool fuckstick moochers...

It's interesting the effect that non-mainstream cinema can have on you. We're conditioned to crave the predictable Pavlovian emotional payoff that Western cimena provides, so when you see a film that eschews it you're left in some bizarre Quantum state of unfulfillment and fulfillment: you want the payoff but you're pleased to have been taken somewhere you didn't expect. Sometimes when you're exposed to a culture you've never seen before, you realise how similar we all are in our reactions when things go wrong. Sometimes when you're forced to witness someone else's pain and the stoicism with which they endure it, you realise you don't really have that much to complain about and a broken heart is a conceit. Sometimes when you think you know everything there is to know about yourself, you realise you're more of a stranger to yourself than are the dozens of people sitting around you. And sometimes you realise that the reason they give away free tickets to arthouse cinema is because it's a great steaming pile of tedious meandering horse shit.

I've decided to look for somewhere else to live. I can no longer do without an internet connection at home and after repeated denials from the landlord to put a phone line in I'm voting with my feet. Plus I've been in the south east for 5 months now so I feel it's time to explore other areas of London and see what they have to offer. Plus, even though the house is great, the rent is pretty steep for what we're getting. I'll miss the cast of High School Musical but it's not like I'm moving to the other side of the world or anything.

Fast-breaking news! I got the good news last night that I've got a new place to live. It's with a couple of lovely aussie girls up north near Clapton Pond. The house is pretty nice in a quiet tree-lined street and I get a balcony overlooking the backyard. It'll be nice to have a few less personalities to deal with and a whole new area to explore. It's in the East End right next to Fo'Sho'Ditch which used to be a bit of a dodgy area, so I'm told. But there's a lot of "urban renewal" going on so there's plenty of trendy bars and cafes and such filled with pretentious cool kids for me to mock and complain about. Have to get my skates on as I want to move this weekend. So exciting!

Anyhoo, that's all for now. Hope you're all thriving in Kevvie Land. Ruddslide!


Vicks said...

The cast of High School Musical?!?!? Better that that being the sole survivor of the cast of Dad's Army Christopher!!!

Anonymous said...

I'm surprised you even know that show. Did you have to ask your nana for the oldest program she knew? Where were you in '85 while I was writin' rhymes? Oh that's right, you were IN UTERO!