Monday, 21 June 2010

Poignant annniversary day

Today is not only exactly 5 years since my mum's funeral (she died June 11th 2005), it's also exactly 31 years since my dad died. I'd give so much to have them both back - though in good health. (My mum lived until she was 89 - a fine, long run, for all that. Dad died of a sudden stroke, out in the garden, at 69.) It was good, though, that I at least really started to appreciate them before it was too late, though in both cases only really in their latter years. Lucky also that, unlike several I've known, there was no ill-feeling at all towards either of them or from them to me - ups and downs, yes, but certainly nothing even approaching the severing of communication that some have experienced. So in that I appreciate that I've been fortunate. Love you, mum, dad!

Monday, 14 June 2010

Why do I pay good money to see such uncomfortably violent films?

In 2002 it was 'Irreversible' with its graphic and prolonged vicious assault and rape in a subway as well as a seeing a man beaten to death (also in 'loving' detail) with a fire extinguisher. Then last year we had 'Antichrist' with the Charlotte Gainsbourg character snipping of her own clit and knocking unconscious the Willem Dafoe character before shooting a bolt into his calf which she uses to chain him to a large stone weight. Then, hot on its heels, we've already got this year's gore-fest offering. I've just come back from seeing 'The Killer Inside Me' and, boy oh boy! NOT for the faint-hearted - unless you really want to see two females gut-wrenchingly battered as surely never been shown on screen before (at least in a commercially produced 'mainstream' film) one of them with her face repeatedly punched, beaten almost literally to a pulp. But do please note these acts were committed because the perpetrator, erm, 'loved them'! Although in all these three films, such was their notoriety, I'd heard in advance what was in store for me, and I wondered if I'd be able to keep my eyes on the screen . I knew I'd flinch, to say the least. But it seemed a bit of a challenge to see if I could watch without looking away. I failed - but only averting my gaze for mini-seconds.
The psychology of wanting to watch such films is troubling. I've never assaulted anyone in my entire life - not even an animal. (Why did I just say 'even'?) But I dare say there are individuals around who will get a vicarious thrill from seeing two women get smashed up in extremis. So why do I go? Partly because, having been an ardent cineaste since I was 20, these are, after all, 'significant' films. But I suppose there's also an element of a sort of 'badge of honour' in having sat through them. What's also worrying is that I actually purposely avoid seeing films where I know that there will be the depiction of violence done to an animal - even if I know it's done by screen effects and that no animal is actually hurt. Of course similar screen tricks are also employed in showing violence against humans, but cruelty towards animals presses additional buttons in me - I just don't want those scenes rattling around in my head.
So there's another film which is going to linger and linger and give me nightmares. Oh well! Now, what shall I have for dinner?

Friday, 11 June 2010

Thank you, ma'am!

Got a bounce in my step this morning. Just heard on the news about the Queen's birthday honours list (which is issued, I think, three times a year - as recommended by the Prime Minister at the time). Three names jump out at me who are well worthy to be so recognised:-
The lovely, talented and still-young actress, Sophie Okenedo
The American writer/commentator Bonnie Greer - always acutely and eloquently perceptive.
The young astro-physicist Professor Brian Cox - left-leaning atheist whose boyish enthusiasm and cheeky charm has rapidly endeared himself to us on our TV screens over just the last couple of years. When the time comes for the revered Richard Dawkins to hang up his clogs, Cox would be a worthy successor - and could well win his laurels by being the primary hate-figure of all those pesky God-botherers. One can but hope.

Of course being 'honoured' with the title of 'Member/Order/Companion of the British Empire' these days carries an absurd incongruity (what Empire?). Even when there was an Empire to speak of, it was hardly something to be proud of - but nowadays everyone recognises it's just a symbolic recognition of excellence.
Before Tony Blair such awards were largely confined to crusty old retired politicians and entertainers - the notable exception was the Beatles being awarded M.B.E.s in the mid 1960s, which saw significant numbers of retired army-majors and generals etc returning their honours in disgust. But then a few years later John Lennon returned his own anyway.
Even if I myself had achieved something in public life which had been considered worthy of being recognised by a title (ah, if only!) I don't think I'd have felt comfortable accepting it. There have, indeed, been quite a number of high-profile refusals, one of the more noteworthy ones being the Jamaican Rasta populist-poet, Benjamin Zephania (one of the few people alive whom I'd most like to meet). But even so, it can't stop my rejoicing at the public recognition of people whom I admire. Congratulations to all!

Beautiful Occasion.

I was on the verge of tears (of joy) this afternoon watching the opening ceremony of the Football (Soccer) World Cup live from Johannesburg. It's still very much a novelty for me seeing people of different-coloured races mingling in this former pariah country. Even a decade and a half since the end of apartheid it seems a miracle that it happened at all - especially to people like me who, during all our politically-aware lives, had seen South Africa as a living, suppurating scar on the face of humanity. Sure, we have other 'scars' now, some of a different quality, and some indeed still within that very country, but for so long South Africa was the litmus-test for a person's attitude towards justice. I recall Mrs Thatcher, as she tried every which way to block sanctions, actually denouncing Mandela as a 'terrorist' ("Anyone who thinks the ANC will ever rule in South Africa is living in cloud-cuckoo land!") Then there was the famous Conservative Party conference which she presided over as Prime Minister where T-shirts were widely sported bearing the legend "HANG NELSON MANDELA". (Ha ha! What a joke! What fun!) When I was working then, my colleagues would try to wind me up by bringing in sanction-flouting South African apples to eat with their lunch - announcing that they were doing so, of course. I just sat there and seethed.
Anyway, thank heavens those days are well truly past. (Thatcher shortly afterwards had the gall to claim that it was her influence that helped to end apartheid. ["Talks, yes - sanctions, NO!"] But then that same 'gracious lady' also claimed that it was her influence and that of President Regan which were paramount in bringing down the Berlin Wall and Communism in Europe. Well, as she is now in quite advanced dotage, let's allow her that comforting view of her former megalomania, shall we?)
South Africa today, despite it's searing difficulties, still offers a brilliant symbol of hope demonstrating that man, at least in some respects, can advance out of darkness. I salute you all - well apart from those Afrikaaners who want to turn the clock back. Dream on, losers!

Thursday, 10 June 2010

Dreading a very likely future health situation

As long as I can remember I've suffered from night cramps (known in the USA , I believe, as 'Charley Horses'). In my family it's been only me suffering among us five siblings, but my father also had the complaint. When I was younger they came on rarely, maybe only two or three times in a year. But getting older, it's become more frequent till now it's a nightly fear. When they were occurring at the rate of about once every week or so, I told my doctor who prescribed Quinine Sulphate tablets, to be taken every night before retiring. They seemed to make little or no difference, but they also aggravated my already debilitating fractured sleep patterns, so I ceased taking them. Of course the threat of oncoming cramps continue to come on regularly and relentlessly, and I still have to jump out of bed to arrest it before it can take hold, otherwise if it's allowed to, the pain is so extreme in it's agony that if there was the means close at hand to end it all I do believe I might be sorely tempted. Anyone who doesn't experience these 'night cramps' just has NO idea! The absurd and inconsequential mild term of description doesn't even begin to reflect the magnitude of the pain. I simply cannot imagine there being anything more excruciating that it's possible to suffer. Only very recently did I become aware that jumping out of bed at some point has become just about a nightly occurrence now. I looked up the condition on the Internet yesterday but it didn't really tell much that isn't already known - suggested preventatives being going to bed well hydrated and doing calf-stretching exercises. So yesterday evening I drank plenty of water and did the stretching. The result? I had to jump out of bed twice last night. Some years ago, for the first time that I remember, I got it in both legs simultaneously and wasn't able to stand up in time to stop it. God, as a result of the absolutely dreadful pain, the sweat poured out of me while I bit and chewed on the pillow. I really thought my heart was going to give up as I heard it thumping fortissimo. I was praying for deliverance - anything, but please take this hideous agony away! After possibly the longest two or three minutes of my life it eventually passed, leaving me drenched, panting for breath but ever so thankful it had receded.
I suppose I can continue to live with this condition (what choice is there?) - but for how much longer? I'm terrified of when the time comes when I just cannot manage to get out of bed in time to stretch the calves before the pain sets in on its inevitable arc of indescribable agony, and even moreso when the time arrives when I've become permanently bed-ridden and cannot rise at all. I'll be screaming and yelling so hard my vocal cords will snap. What a horrible prospect in store. If only a really effective remedy could be found - quickly.

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Stephen King - so variable!

In my 'pivotal' decade of the 1980s I liked to consider myself one of this writer's most enthusiastic fans. He could hardly do any wrong (well apart from 'The Stand'). Then he embarked on the series 'The Dark Tower', of which I've read the first three, but felt decidedly lukewarm about them. Also more door-stoppers including 'It, which, after a brilliant start rapidly fades whilst there are still several hundred pages to go. 'Needful Things' wasn't too bad, 'Rose Madder' somewhat better.....Could go on but what I want to say is that I left him aside for several years, then some months ago bought half a dozen at one go to catch up on some that I'd missed. I read first 'Just After Sunset' and felt so excited. This was King back on vintage form! Then 'Duma Key', not as good despite having its moments. Now today I've just finished 'Cell' - and what a clunker it is! I just don't think he can really carry off these novels set in an apocalyptic setting. The further he gets from reality the more boring the plotlines become. I think he's most successful in the 'small town' worlds of novels like 'Christine', 'Cujo', 'Misery', 'Pet Semetary' 'The Shining' and others of that ilk - plus many of his short stories are very fine. Sometimes they are so damned funny! Now in the 'still-to-read' pile beside me are 'Lesley's Story' and 'Everything's Eventual', but I almost hardly dare start them for fear of being disappointed. There's such a yawning gulf between him at his best and at his worst. But he's been so prolific there was bound to be differences of quality. And at his best, for horror writing he's been pretty well unbeatable.

Sunday, 30 May 2010

Eurovision delivers entertainment value in spades - again!

Well, so what if the U.K. could do no better than finish in 25th place? - out of 25! It's hardly the end of the world, even though it is happening with alarmingly increasing regularity - it's the 3rd time in the last 8 years. Whilst conceding our song may not have deserved to have been a clear winner (part-penned by composers of all those international disco hits of the 1980s, including Kylie, which had then got so many of us sweaty on the dance floor) I thought it at least should have finished in the top 10, but it didn't help being delivered by an inexperienced and uncharismatic 19 year old youth.
Winner was Germany, only their second-ever win - their previous win being Nicole's dreadfully twee 'A Little Peace' in 1982. Still can't see why yesterday's entry won (sung by one 'Lela', also 19), though I believe it has already been a huge hit throughout large parts of Europe. I can't recall now the 'tune' to 'Satellite'. Maybe there wasn't one.

But, above all, it was the OTT campery which always makes this event so watchable - surely the gayest thing on TV which is not explicitly defined as 'gay'.
The event of the night just had to be the 5-man (repeat, 'man'!) Greek entry, 'Hopa!', delvered by this clutch of foot-stomping, testosterone-bursting, all-white-clad HE-MEN. They must all have been surely rugger-buggers, heavyweight boxers or knitting champions - possibly all three! What with their grunts and orgasmic-sounding, deep-throated repeated cries of "UGH" they were just too TOO! And the hunky lead singer with his glorious facial fuzz - OMG! I just wanted to shout out to them "HERE I AM! TAKE ME!" As a song it would have been my runner-up.
I actually voted for Serbia, with its epicene, blond boy (I think) lead singer - and four dancers including an hilarious constant smiler of a cloney-bearded type whom I could just have eaten up raw. In the event they finished about half-way.
The other eye-opener was the male half (natch!) of Romania's double act, sitting at each end of a double-keyboard, see-through, grand piano. Boy, he was good looking! A bit more mature than 'Smiley of Serbia' but with similar-style short beard. Every time he opened his fur-rimmed mouth I just wanted to fill it! Nice song, which actually finished 3rd.
As for the women - Iceland's entry takes the honours for me - a lady at least well into her 30s, maybe older, and carrying more 'embonpoint' than Mama Cass, Sophie Tucker and Montserrat Caballe combined - with Susan Boyle thrown in! To see her daintily side-stepping and gently swaying to her song amid her sylph-like supporting dancers held me in awe.
All in all, then, a memorable evening. Pity it's only once a year, but I suppose that's what makes it even more anticipated. Great fun!