A collection of the best advice I have ever received:
'Always have your tea or coffee black when you visit someone's house. People go to the fridge and drink milk straight from the carton', a vociferous lunatic, speakers' corner, Hyde Park
Boys, always marry an ugly girl, because she'll never leave you - and if she does, you won't care. A country and western song.
Be the change you wish to see in the world, Gandhi
Random facts gleaned from here and there:
- One of the two brothers who founded the Laphroaig distillery, Donald Johnston, died two days after falling into a vat of partially made Whisky.
- Stewardesses is the longest English word you can type with your left hand only, Lollipops the longest with solely your right.
- The male Duck Billed Platypus has a venomous spur on its hind leg
- The Human body on average contains ten trillion cells. In those ten trillion cells, there are seventy five trillion foreign cells. Yes that’s seven and a half times more cells of different creatures living in or on you right now. So how can you call yourself you? (from Weirdimals)
- Albert Einstein's last words were lost to posterity as the night nurse attending him did not speak German (from Time magazine, 1955)
Ten of the best films, in my opinion:
I could quite easily populate a top ten with just Hitchcock, predominantly, David Lynch and Kubrick films, so I have limited it to two films maximum per director:
1. Notorious: Hitchcock.
Ingrid Bergman plays a lush with a Nazi father, Cary Grant a hardhearted CIA man who 'runs' her. There is a love story, incredibly taut suspense, dark humour and some fantastic performances. A near perfect film.
2. Barry Lyndon: Kubrick.
This is the closest Kubrick came to his imagined Napoleon biopic. The cinematography is sumptuous to look at and the story, Thackeray's, is a bittersweet one.
3. 2001 - a space Odyssey: Kubrick.
I was going to choose Paths of Glory, but this film is almost unequalled in its scope and breadth. The entire evolution of human, artificial, and extraterrestrial intelligence is its plot and it is a marvellous cinematic spectacle with an enigmatic and profound message.
4. Ikiru: Kurosawa
A bureaucrat, after thirty years in the same stultifying job, learns he is dying of stomach Cancer and tries to find purpose in his life. A brilliant central performance, with moments of simple, delicate perfection: Moving, without sentimentality.
5. Jaws: Spielberg
There's a big shark and it's eating people. Terrifying monster movie genius.
6. Mulholland Drive: Lynch
An enigmatic and at times extremely beautiful film about (this is my reading, anyway) the truth and self-delusion. The Hollywood lie, the seedy reality, the unreal and the real. Exquisite.
7: My life as a dog: Hallestrom
A charming film about a young boy and his empathy and identification with the dog, Laika, who was sent into space. Really warm and sad and sweet.
8: Brazil: Gilliam
Dystopian bureaucracy and the yearning for humanity in an industrialised, Orwellian world. It is both funny and very wry, with a very British - yes, Pythonesque - wit.
9: North by Northwest: Hitchcock
Cary Grant again, this time caught up in a web of intrigue. A great romantic thriller.
10: The Elephant Man: Lynch
The film's dark gothic Victoriana looks incredible, and the performances including those from Hopkins and Hurt are brilliant. Overall, an extremely beautiful, emotional and tender experience.
If you are bored and fancy diversion I recommend spending a few moments perusing the world of lookalikes. Here you will find a range of people with either a passing resemblance to a person of note, or none whatsoever, but the get up and go needed to suceed. See for yourself.
Enjoy, there's more here
The Robin that perches on the bench where I meditate at lunchtimes. In my stillness, it comes and watches me, and when I open my eyes it is there by my side. Head tilted, chest puffed. I have taken to leaving, in the colder weather, little morsels for it to eat.
One time, I stood up from the bench and looked back to see my shadow cast down on the ground by the persevering winter sun, and the Robin then flitted down from the bench into the shadow, to rest on the place where my heart would be. Having just come out of the serenity of meditation, this moment struck me as poignant, and has remained with me.
There are also a couple of squirrels. The squirrels, in my unthreatening stillness have been known to play with my shoes in their curiousity.
The sheer silent magic of night time falling snow on the quelled streets of Soho - normally bustling with noise and traffic, instead frozen into stillness as if enchanted. The thick white crunch of fluff beneath one's feet. The search lights of a theatre revealing in their sweeping beams the flurrying butterfly swarm of fat flakes.
When I was six and watching Top of the Pops, I saw him dressed as Pierrot walking in front of a bulldozer in the Ashes to Ashes video, and I was utterly mesmerised. It was like seeing another planet. Inspiring, otherworldly, weird, brilliance.
Poetry. There is lots of terrible poetry in the world, a little more thanks to my occasional efforts, but when poetry is written well, it is sublime. From the anonymous voices of the past who have left their experiences writ in dead languages to the modern age, poetry is the complexity of human experience conveyed in language. Or, to be reductive, the most apt words in the most pleasing form to convey the thoughts and feelings of the poet. Some of my favourite poets, and poems, are: ee cummings; Pablo Neruda; TS Eliot; WH Auden; Apollinaire
Live review: Joanna Newsom, Royal Albert Hall, 28 September 2007
When I was asked to go to this concert, I was trepidatious, even reluctant. I had heard her name mentioned before and I had attempted to listen to her earlier works, but her naif screechy voice had completely horrified me, if I am honest. I could not get beyond the broken glass voice that scraped and scratched against the pristine elegance of the harp. But I was convinced to go, nonetheless.
So, in the prestige of the second tier of the Royal Albert Hall, we took our seats, directly opposite the stage. We had opted to enjoy a meal rather than see Roy Harper, which may have been a mistake, it was a good meal, nonetheless, and I prepared to be aurally assaulted by screech owls for an hour.
She came onto the stage with a winsome humility, and she spoke in a friendly and unassuming way to the audience. And then, with a guitarist, a violinist and a drummer she began to play.
And from the first bars of music, 'Bridges and Balloons', the sound swelled up and around the vast hall and I found that I was crying. Not out of sadness, but because of how utterly - overwhelmingly - beautiful the merging sounds and lyrics were. In the living, breathing, soaring music was something that I had missed, there was an honesty and a fragility that was so compelling that it was impossible to not feel it. And from that point on I was completely mesmerised. I think that when she played Sawdust and Diamonds I felt that I had actually travelled to a forgotten land. It was, in the end, one of the most memorable, beautiful and suprising concerts I have ever had the good fortune to attend.
I expected to be assaulted by screech owls, but instead I was lifted from the ground by a fleet of a hundred rainbow plumed parrots, and flown to a beautiful place.
Jaque Verges is a smirking, cigar wielding, French lawyer who has defended and been involved with a range of characters who can be described as 'colourful' in the same way as a gunshot wound can be.
He has represented a rogue's gallery or hall of fame, depending on your viewpoint, of extremists, terrorists, nazis, murderers, freedom fighters and assassins, from the right and the left. He counts among his friends Carlos 'the Jackal', Swiss nazi benefactor Francois Genoud and Pol Pot, under whose leadership an estimated 1.4 million people died.
Berbet Schroeder's film, which documents Verges extraordinary life, offers a tantalising insight into the man, including speculation over the 8 years in which he 'disappeared' from public life. Was he with Pol Pot? Was he a secret agent? Was he living a simple life in Paris?
At first it is possible to believe the notion he spins of himself - a man driven by principle, drawn to the struggle of the Algerian freedom fighters in his youth and defending bombers from the death penalty.
But then, through his proceeding career and his associations, the line of principle becomes untenable.
He defended Klaus Barbie, the former Gestapo chief, for example, justifying his position by posturing about establishment hypocrisy. In spite of his efforts, the Nazi war criminal was found guilty on 341 counts, including one incident where 44 children were rounded up from a farmhouse east of Lyon, at Izieu, and sent to their deaths.
In the second half of the film the introduction of Ilich Ramirez Sanchez or Carlos 'the jackal' somewhat overshadows Verges, this man whom a compatriot describes as a 'psychopath' struts an intriguing figure across Verges' life, as do many of the characters, including Algerian bomber Djamila Bouhired (the first deathrow woman he rescues and falls for) and the deadpan Magdalena Kopp (the second) or the repentant Hans Klein.
An extraordinary story is unfolded, and this is a stunning film, with exceptional access to the people involved and a wide reaching overview of this man's questionable but astonishing life.
By the end of this fascinating film, you are left with an enigmatic figure in Verges, with whom it is not possible to sympathise. Was he simply driven by ego? or something darker?
It is essential, for the law to be just, that everyone be defended.
But I found myself asking, who can defend Verges?
4 out of 5
Are you tired of standing absolutely motionless in the middle of a heaving carnival, pop concert or religious reverie?
Well stand still no more!
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