Still Alive

Amazing. The old lady above me is back in her flat, stomping around above my head and shrieking into her telephone.

I didn’t hold much hope for her after her accident a month ago, but it sounds as if she pulled through. The council have given her a new door after the police put her old one in to get her out. The housing people washed the blood off the staircase (eventually) and everything is back to relative normality.

Speaking of normality, my flat is finally decorated- 27 weeks after I got the keys- and my home is now more Patrick Bateman's abode than Mark “Rent Boy” Renton's, if you get me. It took a ridiculously long time, but- and here’s where I get myself into more shit- that’s what happens when the council give a flat to a social services client with a memory disability, then denies him any support with decorating due to it “not coming under anyone’s remit.”

But it is done. That’s the important thing.

The insurance paid up after I was robbed in Manchester and I got a replacement HTC Wildfire. Again, a little normality ebbs back into the tangled, frayed thread ball that passes for my existence. Something that I’ve struggled to get people to understand: when you have a memory disability like me, you need a system to keep yourself organised. You need a notebook for general info. You need a diary for scheduling what happens in your life. And, ideally, you need them both wherever you go. Seeing as the man bag was a total disaster, I held fire until technology caught up with my needs. Everybody fiddles with their phones in public, and no-one thinks anything of it. Try busting out a pen and notepad, and not getting dodgy looks or being compared to George McFly.

The Wildfire is now what I use to “fit in” in society, like a rifle is what a soldier uses to stay alive. Without it- shit-creeksville. When I was robbed, that’s how vulnerable I felt. Hats off to my insurance. They really rearmed me in the hostile environment I call my life.

Jon Fitz rocked Rififi on Thursday 21^st to awesome effect. The DJ has now secured a residency at Manchester’s Avici White. I’ll be back at Avici soon enough. I have a very good feeling about the club.

Former sex worker / scientist / writer Brooke Magenti (Belle De Jour) is blogging about sex and contemporary attitudes towards it after a break from the blogosphere. Check out her fascinating Sexonomics.

I finished reading Teach Yourself Copywriting. I may have found my calling in life. Providing the text for booklets, adverts, infomercials etc- this is what I must do somehow. The only problem- I don’t have the qualifications to enter the work sector. Shit. Does anyone know how to actually get into copywriting?

Tough times. I’m struggling. That’s undeniable, but people surprise themselves in the face of adversity. An elderly pensioner, bleeding heavily after an accident, climbs down a flight of stairs to contact a neighbour she’s never seen in the hope that he’ll save her life- at 8am on a Sunday morning. Her neighbour does what he can. The police and ambulance workers play their part, followed by underpaid, overworked hospital staff who sew up her scars and change her bedpans and wash her. A month later, she’s back clattering in her flat, cooking and watching game shows and walking around in what sounds like clogs on a seemingly carpetless floor.

It’s time for me to surprise myself. I have no idea what I need to do, but I know what I need: more money, less fear and a good woman. One way or another, I'll do this.

Inglourious Basterds?

I finally got around to watching Inglorious Basterds. It’s a step back towards Tarantino’s heyday of making great films- well, it’s better than the utterly pointless Deathproof, at least. Here Tarantino rewrites history and gathers some quirky, dangerous Allied soldiers together to whack out the higher echelons of the Third Reich. Because it’s a QT film, the Nazis are- of course- attending a film screening. At this screening, there will be Hitler. Three will be Goebells. There will be various other important nazi war figures who would probably never risk being in the same place at the same time, for exactly the reasons Tarantino wants them there. Think The Dirty Dozen, with quirky snappy dialogue.

Thankfully, the talking doesn’t put the handbrake on the story for once- until the Nazis are playing “The Name Game”- a game bringing back fond university memories for me. Annoyingly, they took all three turns at once each, instead of asking one question per turn.

I had a few other quibbles with the movie. Even if these generals did congregate, would they do it in the middle of a WORLD WAR that they are about to LOSE AGAIN? Shouldn’t they be commanding, not dicking about watching propaganda in a fleapit cinema?

This is Tarantino’s rewriting of history. This is him twisting the past to make his own entertainment. It is entertaining, but I found myself thinking- when is it a good idea to rewrite history? Surely if you are going to show something different happen in the past, you’d want to show how it would make the alternative present / future different to how we know it now. What if Hitler had been killed before he rose to power? Didn’t people look to the Nazi party to protect them from the threats of communism from the East? What if the USSR had taken over the whole of Europe? When would they have stopped? A premise with a bit more clout could have been much more fascinating.

And why would an American soldier carry a baseball bat on a tour of duty in occupied France? JUST to bash nazi’s heads in with? Wouldn’t your rifle suffice? And why is he hiding in a tunnel at the start of the scene? How would he defend his team mates in an ambush?

I personally think it’s time for Tarantino to go full-circle. Inglourious was entertaining, but he’s made better movies- Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. He even made characters care about each other in Jackie Brown (okay, Elmore Leonard did). A good-ol’ gangster movie is what’s needed- sans inane chatter and with an original story. Impress me, Quentin.

N-Dubz in Covert Gym Brainwash Scandal‏

“I’ve gone to dark places for days when I’ve seen our music videos have dropped off the TV airplay charts.”

N-Dubz front man Dappy, to the Guardian, Sunday 20th February, 2011.

The manager of my local gym is very clever.

The TV screens have been showing a very cheesy music station which- for some ridiculous reason- occasionally shows documentaries following spoiled-brat popstars around their oh-so-important lives, watching them visit/shun parties and going to “work” in their local studio.

A recent episode followed N-Dubz around LA as Dappy, Faiser and Tulisa, the group members, attempted to break the US scene. How they have become so popular in Britain is beyond me, as the girl is the only one with any actual talent, so how they could ever make a dent in America- don’t ask me. But then, if there are morons over here who buy their records…

I looked around the gym while the TV blared Dappy’s mug and his absurd outlook on life (shunning network meetings, hiding in the recording studio, badly re-enacting dance routines from semi-famous music videos). Nobody was watching the screens. The other patrons were in their twenties or older, focussing.

Then it hit me.

Mr. Gym Manager. You genius. You have picked the most annoying TV station possible- yet one that looks like it fits in a gym environment. We, the customers, don’t like this music- and you know it. We get irritated. This irritation, throughout the many sessions at the gym, grows into full-on pop-hatred. This hatred turns to anger, and this anger causes us to smash out more effort, run faster, lift heavier weights and do more reps.

This results in a better level of fitness. At the end of each month, we’re getting our money’s worth at the gym and can see real results.

The manager knows that if we pay aurally as well as monetarily, we will end up fitter individuals. We’ll get to the year-end and think, actually, I’m doing pretty well with the gym. I’d better renew my membership. And we won’t even realise it. Or will we?

On a separate note: N-Dubz's Wikipedia page makes HILARIOUS reading. Whatever bad-boy persona Dappy may have attempted to conjure up is utterly blown out of the water.

Try This Formula To Get More Blog Traffic

I got the formula
and I'll rain on all o' ya

-Wiley, “Take That”

What brought you to this site? There’s a good chance you found it through a Google search. There’s also a fair possibility that you follow me on Twitter. These two sources of traffic make up the majority of the referrals for the hits on my site.

If you’re not on Twitter, you’re missing out. Unlike Facebook, Twitter is more focussed on giving people information through links to other sites. It’s popular with amateur hacks, bloggers (both pro and amateur) and businesses. And actual celebrities, as I’ve mentioned a few times.

I tweet about my blog posts whenever I upload to my blog. From there, the traffic trickles in for the new writing. Yet I still get hits on older posts- mostly those about celebrities- due to the writing covering subjects that people are already searching for. Am I getting these hits because the writing is good? Or am I just using key words that people are regularly using in searches?

I’ve decided to apply a formula to my social networking. I’m going to tweet a link to one blog post every day. Some will be for new uploads. Others will be for my older, most-hit posts. This won’t tell me what I’m doing right or wrong, but in theory it should multiply my blog hits. The tweets will be in the form of a question (always a good way to catch people’s attention) such as “Why do you think Danny Dyer is mad at Mark Kermode?” This particular example should be effective for a number of reasons.

1)    I have named two named celebrities

2)    I have asked a question, which is a method of catching people’s attention. Street salespeople do the same thing, you might notice

3)    The question is an opinion. Sort of. I’m asking people for their say. Their involvement.

Do you think it will work? And do social media experts have relevant advice for using Twitter to promote one’s blog? And do you see what I’m trying to do with this final paragraph?

Goodnight, Mr. Burns

North West Tonight’s anchorman and BBC Veteran Gordon Burns is to step down from the news show as of tonight.

Although I haven’t actually had a TV since I moved out in November, I still think he will be missed. News- by its very nature- is usually an unpleasant, harsh affair, but Mr. Burn’s nice-guy persona always lifted the show far above the level of “watchable”.

A few years ago, I went to an open day at BBC Manchester where Mr. Burns gave a talk about journalism and his career- he’s certainly had a fascinating ride in the world of news from the get-go.

It occurred to me recently that I actually spoke to him on the phone some years ago, when I was at uni. I was actually trying to contact his colleague, Martin Henshaw, also a news presenter, with the intention of interviewing him for a radio project. I vaguely recognised Mr. Burns' name and his voice, but for some reason I didn’t act at that moment and ask to interview Mr. Burns himself. I was an idiot. This left me still searching for an interviewee.

I didn't call him back- probably due to embarrassment. Eventually, however, I found a contributor. Euro MP for Oldham and Saddleworth Chris Davies had recently been on the other side of the news after purposefully getting himself arrested for possession of cannabis. That’s another story altogether.

I won’t be watching Northwest Tonight tonight, for the simple reason that I don’t have a TV at my place. However on behalf of the site I’d like to thank Mr. Burns for bringing local news to us north-westerners, and for making us feel like we’re part of something. I’m sure his radio work- which he’s continuing to do with BBC Radio Manchester and BBC Radio Lancashire- will continue to entertain and inform the public to his typically high standard. All the best, Mr. Burns.

Ten Awesome Quotes on Manchester

The first time I came here I knew it was a place rich in culture. Italian restaurants in the city centre, China-town, Asian restaurants in Rusholme, the Gay Village, the English pubs, the cafe bars, and then you've got the inner city in Moss Side. Manchester reminds me very much of San Francisco. Even the weather's the same. The thing is that the English don't do a good job selling England - but they do an excellent job selling Florida. There are so many people in America who need to come because they think England's full of cobbled roads. When I go back home to California, people ask me if I'm homesick. How can you be homesick in Manchester? There's so much going on here.
-Mark Delaney Robinson, 29 years old, American captain of Manchester Giants basketball team. Interviewed in the Manchester Evening News, 20th February 1997.

Manchester is large, opulent, well-built. The women are esteemed handsome. Manchester is the best regulated town in England.
-From "General History of Europe" by Barlow, late eighteenth century.

Sarcasm is a Manchester trait.
-Peter Hook, founder of Joy Division

If it stopped banging on about its football teams and its bands and its shops and its attitude, Manchester has something that it can be genuinely, enormously proud of, something that it should shout from the rooftops. Manchester changed the world’s politics: from vegetarianism to feminism to trade unionism to communism, every upstart notion that ever got ideas above its station, every snotty street-fighter of a radical philosophy, was fostered brawling in Manchester’s streets, mills, pubs, churches and debating halls.

-Stuart Maconie, Pies and Prejudice: In Search of the North

Manchester, one of the greatest, if not really the greatest mere village in England.

-Daniel Defoe

John Dalton's records, carefully preserved for a century, were destroyed during the World War II bombing of Manchester. It is not only the living who are killed in war.

-Issac Asimov

The name Manchester originates from the Ancient Roman name Mamucium, the name of the Roman fort and settlement, generally thought to be a Latinisation of an original Celtic name (possibly meaning "breast-like hill" from mamm- = "breast"), plus Old English ceaster = "town", which is derived from Latin castra = "camp". An alternative theory suggests that the origin is Brythonic mamma = "mother", where the "mother" was a river-goddess of the River Medlock which flows below the fort. Mam means "female breast" in Irish Gaelic and "mother" in Welsh.

-Wikipedia

Oh Manchester (oh Manchester),
Is wonderful (is wonderful),
Oh Manchester is wonderful,
Its full of t*ts, f*nny and United!
Oh Manchester is wonderful!

-Manchester City Football Chant

The thing about Manchester is...it all comes from here.
-From Oasis frontman Noel Gallagher, pointing to his heart. BBC2 September 1998.

Because Mark had so graciously treated us to the lovely smoky red I decided a cheese selection would go quite nicely.  And after trying the first I said to J4, “Oh try this one.  It’s so soft and has a great buttery flavor."

To which J4 replied, “That’s because it is butter.  You’re in Manchester, Jennifer, where we put butter on our cheese.”

-Visiting screenwriter Jennifer Grace Cook

Manchester Ritz to Close for Good?

Reliable sources tell me that two prized Manchester night-life spots are to close in May.

The BBC have reported that The Green Room, on Witworth Street, choice venue for many arts and performance events, is to close due to a lack of funding.

Government cuts now mean that poetry nights such as Dominic Berry's Freed Up, and music events like those promoted by local bar Band On the Wall, will now have to find a new home.

A source at the Green Room also suggested that The Manchester Ritz- a pre-war building and once home to the legendary 70's night Brutus Gold's Love Train- is also to shut its doors for good in May. At the time of writing, there isn't much mentioned online about the building's closure. However, HMV bosses have considered downsizing from their current Market Street spot and moving into the Ritz's basement.

Given that there are no other shops around that area, I'd say this would push HMV further down their spiral of reduced sales and increased competition.

I'm writing this wiping a tear from my eye, remembering my first ever university night out at Love Train in 2002. A whole night dedicated to 70s disco music, populated by young student girls. I thought it was awesome. The bouncy dance floor- the stage show with Brutus Gold spinning the discs and his cohorts Willis the kung-fu expert and, erm, some blonde girls in flares- there was nowhere like it. (It did end up being the same formula for years on end. It must be said. Lots of dance routines, dance competitions and mimed PAs. Fun, nonetheless.)

There are plenty of other places that play 70s music, and that have better décor to boot. The Tiger Lounge on Cooper St. jumps instantly to mind. But there won't be anywhere quite like the Ritz.

The Green Room, however, was a specialist building designed for public performance. There are other places that provide this service, like Northern and An Outlet, both in the Northern Quarter, but will they be as easy to book for events? And do they have the same acoustic quality? I don't know.

Have you hear more about The Ritz or Green Room? Fill us in...