dimanche 21 novembre 2004

The ringing of bells "They call it Stormy Monday -- Tuesday's just as bad..." but Sunday's usually a busy but tedious Factory day in Africa and places where politicians decide that while the "Christian" world rests, they will spout ... and spout... Amid such turgid tripe, a little of which news agencies sadly have to inflict on the world, real stories happen too. Sunday's the day when people seem most inclined to let you in on their ... well, somebody's taught me to call it "psycho-babble". Though I'm done with psycho-babble myself, these distractions come in handy when I remain stuck with the screenplay I've now dared mention. They also stop me from doing the silliest thing in the world, which would be to pick up a 'phone or send a mail to say: "Help. I miss you!" But I do miss her. Especially on dull damp Sundays when she's busy. A still disappointed American stuck out her tongue at me at work for saying I'd finally bothered to read all the analyses and statistics and discover that "you may not like it, but it seems to me that this time round Bush got in without cheating." This made me ashamed for bothering to blog anything about that dismal election while failing to put in a word for John Peel (BBC master site), who left a legacy so much more important and lasting after his sudden death on October 25 than I trust that other man will. A number of Brits had their say at 'Drowned in Sound', while Stereolab this week joined numerous bands of our "modern times" to put a word in ('ChartAttack'). One look at my CD collection puts me among the millions tuned in to what was happening in the musical world from as early as I was able to stay up late enough to listen to Peel's shows. In the weeks since he died, however, I've been astonished to discover how much he was respected and loved this side of the Channel. The French music press -- the kind of music we used to call "progressive" back then -- has been full of excellent write-ups, obits, anecdotes, dusted-off interviews and, above all, letters of mourning and thanks from Peel fans outside the UK. If you go a-Googling or better, you'll find the same is true in a host of languages I scarcely know. So there you go, my sometimes Hindu friend. Yup, you, the one who wanted another blog piece tonight. As for my opening words, well, even Marianne agrees that "Daddy's oldies are goodies". The only way to take my mind off missing my other favourite baby this bloody Sunday morning as I went into work was to attack my cranium from both eardrums with 'Colosseum'. Live. Energy. Raw. Exhilarating. Fun. You'll never hear me telling the Kid "they don't make them like they used to," but just occasionally, it's nice to be able to say, "Sweetheart, you don't know what you missed!" It seems she might find out, since there's a reunion DVD I won't be able to resist. Since she knew something of who Peel was long before October 25, I guess she must know what she, too, owes him. 7:46:17 PM  link   your views? []

jeudi 18 novembre 2004

'The Hours'. Virginia's, the Kid's and mine All right. I will tell you. This log is, yes, barely alive. People want to know why... ...so here's an ungodilily explanation. Were I in the mood, I might have regaled you with a tale of another tragi-comic Factory day where idle, incompetent or insecure people (sometimes all three at once) made life a misery for journalists who bear the consequences of their decisions. Others had a more cheerful time. Instead, on the insistent recommendation of the Kid -- who on October 31 wrote a meditation on death on her own 'belcatja2' blog (Fr.) after seeing it -- I watched 'The Hours' (IMDb). Then agreed with people who, for a range of reasons, found it an excellent film. Some reviews at the IMDb reminded me that it's not, after all, such a bad place for thoughtful write-ups. The movie was rather intense. I had one or two problems with the "life or death" choices involved, based on an outlook I understand but don't share, the ending struck me as okay but a little contrived, but a fabulous cast were well directed with a very solid script and I found Philip Glass's score plus one of Richard Strauss's songs just right. The IMDb can seem awful if you've seen a bunch of good movies dealing with themes and ideas that some of the Americans who make up the majority of "contributors" like to believe don't exist, or worse, are real life but unspeakable or "morally" unacceptable and indefensible on screen. For instance, 'The Human Stain'. What's going on with me is simple. Something important happened by accident which took a formerly frequent blogger back to what'll do for the root "causes" of the bouts of depression, loathing of winter and other hassles which dogged me for almost all of my life. One day maybe -- since sometimes it seems the description of the downers as well as some of the highs and wackier moments on 'taliesin's log' are what pleases -- I'll tell my own story of going to hell and back again. It was for real this time, horrible and immensely valuable. This is with the help of friends, colleagues, foes and the Shrinkess, who's "successful" because she's a smart woman who doesn't believe in methods. I guess she threw the textbooks away on deciding she'd take what she needed from whomever she fancied and leave all the formula-mongering "schools" of shrinkdom to rot. It's silly, perhaps, to get past your 49th birthday before you realise that the idea is to listen to other people and then simply suggest how they might deal with their problems, either because you've been there yourself or because you understand them. It's almost never your job to tell them what to do and when you think it is, explanations are required, irrespective of age. Let's leave serial killers and genocidal maniacs out of it, since I'm talking about those some still insist on telling me are "normal" people. This log has shown how to make a mess of your life and other people's, while finding out that the more you tell others gruesome truths about what a mess you're making (without, if possible, boring them senseless), the happier they feel about trusting you with their own dreadful stories. Everybody now knows I've one rule left for friendship, because the others proved senseless: betrayal is the only mortal sin in my book. Here are the real answers to two questions now being asked. No, you may not know more of who the woman is. Yes, I've written increasingly often about movies and music because I'm re-listening and re-watching, going as far behind the scenes as I can with the help of an iPod, DVDs acquired in terrifying numbers, a Mac and well-informed friends and acquaintances. She "won". Along with everybody else who encouraged me to go further than the ephemera of journalism and the pleasures of blogging. The "project" has taken enough shape, form and substance to say I'm writing a screenplay. The central theme among several is the most intriguing paradox I've discovered we all live every day. To tell you what that is would be a spoiler. The film isn't about me or anybody I know, but inevitably draws on my experience and those of people who've marked my life and often remain the most precious thing I've got. The story's a riddle, a thriller, often (I hope) funny and deals with emotions and relationships I've wanted to write about for years. I've rarely achieved more than unfinished bits because I've not felt the confidence or the maturity to handle the main people and topics in an entertaining and original way. The hardest bit of writing a film, I'm finding, is less learning the techniques of good screenplay layout than understanding where you, as a writer, must leave off and hand over to people you hope to end up working with on the project. Since I'm not even going to tell you the working title of this adventure, you could regard it as my X-Files. But different. Don't expect to hear anything more about it soon. While it's hard work and fun, it will take me ages. Hours of script have wound up happily trashed because it can take several attempts to understand my characters as they develop lives of their own. If I stay on track, let the people behave like real people, and hold the bits together, I might have something worth writing more about in, say, six months' time. People say what I'm doing is ambitious, which is true. Some special people have been a great help with it already. I try to help with their own projects when they get blocked. It often boils down to reassurance that it doesn't matter when you get bogged down, because when you are on the right track, your "material" tends to get unstuck of its own accord if you sleep on it a few times. If I now disclose what I'm doing, it's because getting unstuck was a two-fold gift to me which opened the door to all this ... and now I've told enough people about it I have less choice. I have to get on with it. See you around. 12:02:56 AM  link   your views? []

mercredi 3 novembre 2004

You really want my comment? I doubt it There isn't one. Just mood. Ambience. I spent the whole night up, so much to do that by 5:45 in the morning, it was pointless to go to bed. Around seven, though, I remembered the Japanese trick. Set the alarm for 40 minutes' sleep, no more, enough to rest without making it worse by sliding into dream sleep. I checked what was happening across the Atlantic as late as I could before leaving for work. In the Factory's newsroom, there were so many people looking like I must have done. The worst was the silence. Scores of journalists, of every political persuasion, keeping their own thoughts and feelings well out of the news copy they had to write. Silence. TVs on all over the place, but not a one with the sound turned up, just the pictures of the yacking heads... I've never seen or heard that before. Not in the normally buzzing Engine Room of AFP. Bad attempts at jokes: "Now what? Iran first? Or France...?" In the chemist's shop tonight, what a queue! "Is it out yet?" somebody asked. "Already?" "What's that?" "Le vaccin anti-Bush." "Four years!" someone said. "Is it sure yet?" asked one of the chemists. "No," I chipped in, still fresh out of a vast newsroom turned morgue. "But of course it is... "Oh well, let's look on the bright side, shall we? It's only four more years." You know who I really feel bad for tonight? The optimists. A lot of my expat American friends. All those people! The ones who'd really dared nurse a spark of hope in their hearts. The ones who wanted to cry. God. The stench of it all, the reek of despair. It won't last, of course. It just saddens me to hear Americans abroad saying there really doesn't seem much point in "going home" any more. The real patriots. The ones who use their eyes. The ones who have been out of it long enough to remember decency, a dream and values that mattered enough to impress the rest of us. 7:29:16 PM  link   your views? []

mardi 2 novembre 2004

Private words, public place, dirty tricks ... and, ooh, PJ! My latest adventure began with a long-distance 'phone call from "withheld" I received yesterday while working at the Factory. This included an absurd death threat. It was followed by three more calls. I was "asked" to remove some references to sensitive issues I have written about in this log and elsewhere, before matters became complicated. I'll give no details because I've decided the affair is "off the record" for now as a news story and will keep that promise made today to several people. But while I follow it up, I'll use this public place for a private message: a response to the callers and their unconventional means of obtaining some of my confidential information: i) death threats and other strange things given news agency and other journalists are frequent. Some take seriously. Your way of going about it and then changing tack was unusual; ii) much of this log is no more than fun or goodies for friends, colleagues and people who share my interests; However, any "hard news" I set down here or elsewhere is checked and sourced just as we do with agency copy. I won't retract stories or ideas because they don't suit you; iii) journalists protect their sources, especially those at risk. This routine but vital practice means we release information to police or other investigators only in specific circumstances; iv) in calling me at work, you aroused the interest of my colleagues, but it would be foolish either to use my home telephone number or to involve my family and friends in any way; v) if what you are up to proves to be some game or hoax -- for now, you have the benefit of the doubt -- you're wasting my time, that of other journalists who are specialists in related fields, and that of people I've now contacted in other professions. We're currently checking your information. I hope you're verifying mine and following the leads I've recommended to you, as well as taking judicial advice. It's in your own best interest. It wasa damned nuisance to have to blog this instead of getting on with more interesting plans for the evening. zzz To everybody else, this sordid business, events in Africa and the usual office fun and seriousness have had the merit of taking my mind off that election for yet another day. I promise my Factory friends that I'll bring in celebratory bottles if your hopes are met and my pessimism proves to be unfounded, but I'd rather remain ignorant until I've no choice. A well-researched article in 'Les Inrocks' (already gone from the Net) was called 'Où se cache la gauche US?': "Where's the US left hiding?" Apart from an interesting sidebar on right-wing "dirty tricks" with electoral machinery -- already well documented on the Web -- it concluded that there is indeed a Left across the Pond. Well to the left of Kerry,but still fragmented in very American ways. Sylvain Bourmeau and Jade Lindgaard wrapped up last week's report by suggesting that a combination of citizens' groups, media initiatives, lobbying by prominent artists, and fund-raising without resorting to multinationals all point to the emergence of, "beyond the Democrats, a real identity on the left. Is it so reassuring that they're all thinking ahead to ... 2008?" You won't see me tonight in Harry's Bar or anywhere else in Paris where expatriate Americans have been holding ballots and will be glued to TVs. Some people, so I'm told, come here to get away from all that. How about PJ Harvey instead? She has one of the women's voices I've planned to explore in more depth. When the ITMS in France put PJ's iTunes Originals on line, I was quick to jump. The music's great, of course. But when PJ talks about it, track by track, this is real added value. I'd like to hear many more such initiatives... 9:25:38 PM  link   your views? []

lundi 1 novembre 2004

O'Reilly outdo themselves on hacking For Thomas and others who've discovered some lovely equipment recently -- even if others say they're all 'toys' -- there's been stuff at O'Reilly's MacDev Center too good of late to leave unblogged: Hadley Stern with some hot and some colder hacks for iPods and iTunes; the great Rob Griffiths for some more excellent hints (Rob's Mac OS X Hints site has long been a part of one right place on this log's blogroll). Why do I pay an Ars Technica subscription when I so rarely drop in? Because each time, it's worth it. I've only just seen the new look, but I like it. 10:48:06 PM  link   your views? []