love in the age of office superstores

Last night Lou and I attended the Coupland talk *in celebration of The Gum Thief* at the Bloomsbury Theatre.
I’ve seen Coupland talk at this venue twice previously, for the releases of Hey Nostradamus (the boy I was with at the time, fell asleep during this one) and J-Pod (at the time no-one had any inkling just how bad it would be. The audience were pretty much the same as every other time. A few people you look at and think you might be friends with, but mostly you wonder what it is that these people find to relate to in the books that you love. Yes – I am shallow, I judge people on appearance – don’t pretend you don’t. Actually, it’s not just appearance, it’s the annoying pre-talk chatter and lack of reference. I know I’m being a nazi about this, but you know how I feel about the Doug.

After a bumbling introduction by a Blackwells employee (oh, how I miss bookstore folk) he took the stage, and was as warm and random and softly spoken and funny and smart and sarcastic as he always comes across. This is one of my favourite things about him. That he is the exact way you imagine him to be. Rants about chinese killer toothpaste and the made in china sabotaged Boggle edition he had bought for his Boggle tournament ( 5 letter minimum, but be prepared to be laughed at if you do) admissions that the character Mr Rant is mostly based on him.

The curious thing about Coupland is that regardless of the fact that he has been doing this for 17 years, he never looks that comfortable doing so. There was less sharing of his internal monologue this time, some sweeping generalizations about his readers (they’re mostly Mac users with an IQ above 110) which was then disproved by the idiot London crowd (Even if you did own a PC would you raise your hand, proud of the fact? I know that in the past when I paid for my own computers I didn’t feel good about the fact) he talked a little about Helvetica and Sharpies and all the things that make the universe okay. Read mostly from Glove Pond, and towards the end, seemed to have some kind of revelation on stage, and announced that he thought that this was the last reading he was going to do. Seriously. He thought that this part of his life was over now.

This is what spurred me into actually getting in line for him to sign my book. I don’t usually do that fangirl shit, but if this was really the last chance I was going to get to meet him, I’d probably regret it forever.

Lou and I queued for about 20 minutes, all the while trying to disassociate ourselves from the couple behind us who kept trying to join our conversation. I actively try and look unapproachable, are these people completely socially inept? A brief exchange about how hideous jpod was led into them telling us how awful they thought Girlfriend in a Coma was. It was then that Lou and I turned around and ended any dialogue. Don’t ever say anything bad about my favourite book, ESPECIALLY not when you’re wearing bootcut jeans.

So, we met Doug, he was warm (like, blooded) he signed our stuff, commented on how my copy was dog-eared ( I bought it on the day of release, I’m a proper Coupland geek) took our picture (that was Lou’s idea – AND it came out with us looking all-kinds-of-special) and we said goodbye.

The way you feel after seeing him speak, is the way you feel after you’ve finished one of his books. Sort of content but melancholic and like you’re living in a slightly different universe than everybody else.

Walking through Russell Square a bag lady was throwing tiny torn up pieces of paper on the floor as she walked, like some kind of a bizarre breadcrumb trail. After she’d passed us and we inspected them more closely, we realised that they were tiny torn up pieces of porn.

There couldn’t have been a more fitting end to our Coupland evening than a bag lady throwing porn confetti.

alright, so there will always be a little goth in me..

I’m pretty excited about Sweeney Todd, Burton only sucks when he’s not making gothy fairytales.

Do you think this is the beginning of Johnny Depp only being able to play Jack Sparrow forever?

perfect saturday

well, almost.

if the idiots who hadn’t double locked me and lou in the flat weren’t being all loud and foreign in the kitchen.

it’s ridiculous how much I love the interweb.

you know those days when

The sense of realisation dawns on you, throughout the course of the day, the realisation of what you’ve actually done. A sudden sense of clarity, that brings with it some undefinable overwhelming emotion. All you can feel is sad. And final. And all you can see is futility? And then you cry. For no reason. Like an idiot over-emotional girl ? Today is one of those days.

I’m currently sitting in the midst of an *office party* at my desk, listening to Neko Case, while everyone else chit chats with co workers. I’m staying cos there’s alcohol, and being around other people (even if you’re not talking to them) makes the drinking with purpose seem less bad….

I don’t know what’s with me today. But it doesn’t seem to be shifting.

misery loves solitude

First day back at work sucked. Exactly the opposite of what I needed. Exactly. A day of crushing disappointment and so-so activity. The new coupland came out today, in paperback before hardback, which is all kinds of curious, who would buy a hardback when there is a paperback available? I can see if you’re buying classics, but coupland? If ever there was an author made for paperback.

I read the first 40 pages on the way home, and I’m (very) pleased to report that it’s actually good. It’s already better than Jpod, thank fuck, and it’s following themes from his earlier works. The gothy female protagonist seems obsessed with birds, an early Coupland theme, super prevalent in life after god. The whole book has a little of a life after god feel about it so far, although it’s written as a novel and not a series of shorts.The third person journal style echoes of the detachment of life after god, and, indeed, most early Coupland, which in turn enables the lack of irony needed to be able to matter of factly assemble a generations mish-mash of thoughts into a single paragraph. This is the Coupland I fell in love with. I’m glad he’s back.

It’s strange, part of me is totally okay with sitting in my room on my own, watching movies, reading books and smoking a lone cigarette with a Tanqueray and tonic, I am after all, as everyone keeps reminding me, no longer in my twenties, but part of me continues to worry that this is all I’ll ever do if I stay here.

I find this country ever more stifling, in the way that people over 25 tend to get married and move to the ‘burbs, or just start behaving as if they may as well. I can accept this in smaller towns, but this is London, isn’t this the only place in England that it should be okay to keep doing what you’ve always done ? Settling down in your twenties just seems like such a waste, you’re barely an adult, and you’ve resigned yourself to doing what you’re going to have to do for the whole rest of your life…

The loneliness is getting easier to deal with, as predicted, but I’m not sure that this is a good thing. It somehow feels more like a resignation to the inevitable than something positive about being able to spend time in your own company without going crazy. I worry that I might end up with someone just for the sake of being with someone, although I know I’d never actually be able to do that. The other option doesn’t sound so healthy either though.

I just need to try and keep in mind that this whole next year is devoted to keeping my head down, and saving and writing and catching up on all the work I would have done in the last decade if I hadn’t spent the whole time, drunk at a show, with my friends.

I’m going to go and continue with the gum thief, and hope that it’ll help me figure out the things I need to know, the way he has in the past.

a hazy shade of winter

I got back from NY and 90 degree weather to winter and rain. I don’t mind the weather so much as I mind this city.But that’s not the point.

When I was out with Simon we were talking a lot about Microserfs in comparison to the horror that was Jpod. Deciding which character I would be in either (in Jpod – easy – Bree – she even looks like me, Microserfs, less easy – I’m not Karla, maybe I could be Jed?) when we got on the subject of how I had tried to incite a decadence of breakfast cereals discussion in the office a couple of weeks earlier. If you remember, in the book they cite cereals such as Cap’n Crunch, Trix and Count Chocula. Simon and I both agreed that if you were to have the discussion today the most decadent of breakfast cereals would be Dorset Cereals. My blend of choice being the cherry and sun blanched almond variety. I had it this morning in fact, with greek yoghurt and a fresh tropical fruit pot.

It got me to thinking about how much better for you the 00’s are, when you compare them to the 90’s. Everyone is obsessed with salt intake, fat intake, drinking the right amount of water and smoothies are readily available everywhere.(when I say everyone I, of course, mean particularly the middle and upper-middle classes) The weird part is that less people appear to be vegetarians. When I was growing up, in the 90s. It was unheard of for punk rock/indie /hardcore kids to not be vegetarian. Most of us were big animal rights kids too. Kids today don’t seem to have the same conscience. Haha, I said kids today.

Then I thought about how much worse for you the 80s were in comparison to the 90s and I started to worry about just how good for you the 10’s are gonna be. Seems the better nutrition in a decade is , the worse, we as a society, will try and fuck ourselves up to combat it. Back when people were eating steak and pomme frite for dinner every night, not everyone had a problem with alcohol or was in therapy about their oh-so-sad and fucked up life.

In the 00’s, believing in things is contrived. We all live in cleverclever land, and although I’ve been here forever, it’s interesting to see so many new faces around these days. I don’t know whether this is due to the current stupid/smart dichotomy that is fascinating me, or glib showtime shows, or apple flying the flag for smug, but whatever it is. I’m not sure it’s the direction we should be heading in. What happened to us being post ironic? We seem to still be clinging to out cynicism like driftwood in the ocean, while pretending we’re progressing.

I’m over it.

I’m trying to be earnest.

It’s hard after a lifetime of not.

The future is a weird idea.

but if it works for you, it works…

I’m sitting in Tara’s apartment in Williamsburg, on my last day here, all consumed with thoughts of how to make my life the way I genuinely want it to be.

I turned 30 in a somewhat anticlimatic way, I survived, now comes the hard part.

I’m moving here next year, I’ve always wanted you, and I’m done with wasting my life in London town.

Know what’s great? People with a similar frame of reference to you. I was in the Charleston across the street the first day I got here, drinking with Tara’s roommate Tony, and they were showing Alien Nation (movie) on the TV screen, and I had a conversation about how they changed the Matt character on the TV show, and George stayed the same. A conversation, not the usual, me telling someone something, and them staring at me blankly. It’s mostly what I live for.

NY has been perfect this week, save for some weirdness with friends, and monster foot returning.

Monday at Coney was amazing. Definitely managed to get a bit sunburned. Hung out with sharks and sea otters at the aquarium, before having the (mis)fortune of riding the 3D deep-sea experience. Haven’t laughed so much in about a billion years. More hanging out on the boardwalk, intense dry heat, listening to death cab, there being this incredible warm breeze, and things seeming momentarily utopian. Perfectly okay. P-e-r-f-e-c-t-l-y-o-k-a-y.

I haven’t felt a sense of calm like that in forever. And I never have in London. I wish I hadn’t been born in the wrong country.

So, tomorrow, I return home, to London, and to my job and to all the things that are “okay” but only “okay” and to the wind and the rain and the cold and all of this will seem like a million miles away, and I’ll get by on seeing some bands and talking to people on the internet, and hopefully it’ll spur me into action, and next year, I’ll have this whole thing figured out.

It’s a weird boy week this week too, it’s mostly ‘cos Jupiter has stopped being retrograde. But the one I like the most has gone into some kind of life hating hibernation, and the only one I was ever properly in love with, is single once more. I’m not that bothered by either right now though, I have 12 months to sort out all the things in my life that aren’t working. That’s probably enough for now.

there’s a new seth cohen in town, and he knows how to use the internet!

So, I’m waiting for Robyn to get to Taras. I have been for approximately a million hours. I chose to fill this time with downloading and viewing the pilot of Gossip Girl. Blah blah, the OC, blah blah.

2 observations. It was a bit ‘meh’ didn’t hate it, didn’t love it. 5 years ago probably would have been able to evoke something a little more from me, but nowadays, even I’ve had my fill of self aware teen drama. That being said, I will continue to watch this , which is where observation number 2 comes in. Almost the whole cast is ridiculously hot. Specifically Leighton Meester, who is almost unbelievably pretty as Blair, (Summer) The Marrissa substitute isn’t that attractive, the Ryan substitute is, and the new Seth Cohen, he’s okay, I liked his scarf.

It’s all a little bit Cruel Intentions, but with Veronica Mars explaining to you what’s happening. Apparently it’s based on a teenage novel series. I fear for the youth of today, I’m gonna start handing out Judy Blume to anyone under 17 to try and combat this. Is it just me that winces in faux-cool agony when a TV show mentions myspace? Hot parents are good though, I’m at the age where I can like the Dad, and Rufus Humphries is definitely a hotter Sandy Cohen.

I wish Robyn would get here, I’m starving, supposed to be bowling and have boy dilemmas all of my own.

Also, I am 30 in 2 days. Had a conversation the other day, and as a result have reconciled myself to the fact I am going to write/talk/emote as if I’m living in Dawson’s Creek, probably forever.

As an extra note to this, a week later. I was trying to figure out why the dad, rufus, looked so familiar. It’s because the guy who plays him Matthew Settle was in all manner of bad 90s teen/young adult movies. Most notably he starred as Ben Willis (the killer – come off it, it’s not a spoiler if it’s over a decade) in the classic JLH vehicle I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER.

My question is this. Am I now so old that people who were playing my eye candy a few years ago are now playing my eye candys parents? Jesus.

It’s those little things that fuck me up the most.

I didn’t go see Kevin Devine and Chin Up Chin Up tonight. I thought it might have made me worse. Yesterdays good mood completely evaporated by the time I got to the office.

I (eventually) finished Jpod today, and although I didn’t like it very much, and it felt contrived and wrong and like it was written to be broadcast by the people behind chuck at NBC, I was still sad that it was over, fictional friends are always harder to let go than real life ones. And it’s not just that these characters are percet, for I am a big fan of character flaws, in you know, characters. In real life people they tend to leave a bad taste in my mouth. Not least of all mine.
Why don’t the people i work with exhibit any fun geeky couplandesque qualities. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live in Microserfs. Then I could partake in the breakfast cereals decadence conversation, and it would be the 90s. And everything would feel slightly less hopeless, and not so old.
I am getting better at being okay with realising I really can only rely on myself. People schmeople.
Today has been confusing.

Fucking solar eclipse in Virgo.

I don’t like not being in control of other peoples perception of me. I’m re-reading pretty in punk to try and make some sense of this. I think I need a punk rock therapist. I really don’t think that you can figure me out, without at least a slight pop-cultural frame of reference. It can’t all be as basic and Freudian as first assumed eh?

It’s 10 days tomorrow, til I turn 30. I’ve mostly stopped freaking about it, I don’t think I’ll stop beating myself up about the things I feel I should’ve done though. Fixing me is hard work.

But for now, I guess I’ll just sit here and listen to Jim Yoshii and think it all out.

but she wants love, and I still wanna fuck..

I managed to not spend the entire evening talking to boys on the internet, instead I took a bubble bath, started re-reading 30 days of night from the very beggining, and listened to a lot of afghan whigs.

This whigs revival has been a deal of mine for the last few months, occasionally, I’ll forget exactly how much I love them for a whie, and then a track will come on party shuffle or lastfm or something, and the love affair will begin again.

The Afghan Whigs were/are?(please play the UK) the sleaziest band I know, in the best possible way. Greg Dulli doesn’t paint himself as the nicest guy in all the world, but he’s still the thinking girls villain of choice. He looks like he’d fuck you over, every which way, in the best possible way, you know?

He’s the only man I know that can get away with the kind of baby territory usually reserved for Barry White, I saw twilight singers a couple years back, and even though he’s got fat, still smokes marlboro reds (who didn’t switch to lights when they hit 25?) and has aged less well than I think we all expected. I totally still would. Simply put, he’s a charming motherfucker.

Haha.

Unbreakable is due for release on sept 19th, and for a best of record is pretty amazing. It’s been a long time coming, there were some promos made for a best of entitled historectomy, a few years back but it was never delivered.

If you’re not aware of the whigs, I implore you to go and buy Gentlemen now. It’s in my top 5 ALL TIME records. It’s sort of a big deal. It’s languid and rough and bad and amazing all at the same time. And the way the guitars come in on Debonair is like, wow. Fountain and Fairfax reached the dizzy heights of the my-so-called-life soundtrack, and What jail is Like blows me away every single time I hear it. I grew up with this record and still listen to it a couple of times a month. It would be fair to say I consider it somewhat of a classic.

It may also be worth noting that the New Amsterdams do an amazing cover of If we two parted on the first record. It’s an interesting translation.

There was no real point to this blog, btw, and I didn’t think it out. I’ll probably edit it into something readable at some stage, but for now, I’m gonna go back to diggin’ on the ‘whigs.

Watch the video for honkeys ladder, off black love , below.

technorati tags:afghanwhigs, gregdulli, twilightsingers, mysocalledlife

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