An upside down watch still tells the same time.

Five Years

Five years of hard studying* and all I get is a certificate? I want a fucking parade.

(*doing coursework at the last possible minute.)

Blind Pilot

How I missed this, I don't know... Blind Pilot, a band who supported The Decemberists when I saw them at the Bristol Academy on their 2011 tour, have released a new album "We Are The Tide".

Even after one listen, it has hugely grown on me. Israel Nebeker's harmonious voice and the band's slow country cross blues melodies occasionally strays their sound into lullaby territory.

Based on only two albums, these guys would be high up the billing on my fantasy festival acts list.

Quote unquote

"Women are a complete mystery."
Stephen Hawking, 2012.

And we wouldn't have it any other way.. Isn't that right, Stevie?

It's always the quiet ones

Surprising is how I could describe the time I spent talking to my best friend's girlfriend on Saturday night. She has always been the quiet one in the background whenever we're out, but this weekend she hugely came out of her shell and we really connected. We debated at great length and ferocity about subjects as abstract as the legalisation and classification of drugs, what is the best way to teach someone or to be taught (she's studying Psychology and I have a particular interest (without any actual knowledge, I must add) in the practical application of "learning"), music and relationships. For once, my best friend barely got a word in; which is an incredible achievement for anybody. (He did cook a bloody good chilli so he was forgiven for not contributing much to the conversation.. Ha.)

It's easy to write someone's cards in terms of who they are, what they are and what they're capable of.. To a certain extent, I think I did this with her. Or, maybe she's changed around me over the past year or so? With familiarity comes confidence. I find it incredibly interesting how people can surprise you. This time, it's in a hugely positive way. I'm used to people surprising me in a negative way, so it's refreshing. Despite forever being the optimist, a massive dose of cynicism is creeping into my blood slowly but surely.. It's good to have a stop check and reflect every now and again.

Celluloid

After Bérénice Bejo on Monday, I have once again fallen in love (lust?) with a French speaking celluloid star.. I need to get a grip. This time it's Mélanie Laurent in 'Beginners' which I've seen before; however, I'd forgotten quite how captivated I was by her pixie like features and delicate tones. It's making the hangover more tolerable.

Yesterday was so enjoyable.. An incredibly fresh morning run (complete with friends, deer, peacocks and flakes of ice falling from frost covered trees), spending time with my whole family, getting to know someone and gathering some inspiration. I don't know how it could've been any better.

Appetising

Reading this in the Guardian this morning was not the most appetising piece to read over breakfast. The line that moved me most was -

"The rabbit's head was dark against the light grey sky. It had pocked hollows instead of eyes and raised ears, frayed like an over-loved toy."

After a conversation about the morality of eating Veal and Foie Gras I had last night, the waves of doubt over my vegetarianism that I've had over the past few weeks have now completely subsided.

Ruined, goodbye and vacant

After two one and a half hour sessions of 'hot' Yoga at a new studio in Reading, I feel ruined but incredible. By hot, I mean HOT - forty two degrees Celsius. The clientele were also hot, which made the suffering more bearable. Despite having an enormously overwhelming sense of (b/s new-age phrase alert) well-being; aches have appeared where there have never been aches before. A steaming dose of 'man up' is required though as I'm running nine miles tomorrow morning with a group in Old Basing. Fuck.

In sadder news, an HMP Service placement has left the organisation that I work for after being with us for three months. I shall miss the cheeky chappie, especially the little chats we had about some bizarre topics. He often gave me this pleasant feeling of being a bit of an older brother figure for him after he came to me to talk about how he should present himself for an interview and various other similar themes. He came out of his shell slowly but surely during the time we had him (sounds like a pet!). He said this afternoon that he felt like a different and more open person than he was the day he joined, which was heartwarming. I wish him the best of luck and hope our paths shall cross in the future.

I've been neglecting doing any proper writing this past fortnight - it's been so busy with work; inspiration has been few and far between. Next Friday is Reading's Poetry cafe; maybe something there will plant a seed in my vacant noggin.

The Artist

The stunning cinematography showcased throughout The Artist was almost enough to outshine the radiance of Bérénice Bejo.. She may have overtaken Audrey Tautou as THE French speaking movie pinup (although she is Argentine in her descent). Trés bien.

One shot of particular note is a cutaway of a staircase in a large building.. It made me gasp with admiration; it was almost photographic in it's composition and detail.

This film should sweep the awards ceremonies purely for it's innovative homage of what could be considered a lost art, although it must be said; it is not satirical in it's presentation. Michel Hazanavicius respectfully harks back to an era which was already filled with glamour and excess, then throws you into the front row next to flapper girls, Cadillacs and pearls.

Somehow, the acting seemed more visceral; as if removing the dialogue took away a previously unknown fog that blurred the fourth wall. My concentration levels were more intense and I paid far more attention to the effects of the score.

And if I haven't already given enough reasons to see this film; just go to see the dog. I swear it must be the same pooch from Frasier.. Adorable.

Suggestion

Put 'Good Day Sunshine' by The Beatles on your headphones on a grey morning. Tell me it doesn't cheer you up and I'll eat my left boot.

When in doubt wear red

http://instagr.am/p/f1Tbe/

Thirty five millimetre

Despite a raging hangover and experiencing the joys of having to tidy my wrecked flat earlier in the day, somehow yesterday afternoon I managed to spend a few hours teaching my friend's eight year old son (Alfie) how to use a thirty five mm SLR camera.

During my previous visit to their house, Alfie had waxed lyrical about how he was the chief photographer of his school's newspaper whilst showing me some great shots of swans in his local park, his dog and his Mum and Dad on his new point and shoot digital camera. My ancient Centon (no, I've not heard of them either) SLR that was my trusty steed throughout college had been sat gathering dust on my desk for the past three years and it clearly could do with a better home. It was his sisters' fifth and sixth birthdays last week, so he was probably feeling hard done by on the presents front.. So, the girls got Hello Kitty bits and Alfredo got a slightly dusty camera.

Trying to explain ISO settings to an eight year old was a bridge too far but he picked up on how to focus, zoom, fire the flash, set the shutter speed and how to load a film. It'll be great for him to learn the complete basics at a young age. His understanding of composition is innate looking at the shots he'd already taken.

In my naivety, I said that he should get a book from the school library on how to use cameras to help him learn, to which I got the response - 'Don't be silly Harry.. I'll just Google it.' How times have changed.

London Town

Having admired Laura Marling's music for quite some time; happily I've discovered some gems of unreleased material floating about on YouTube which I'd not heard before. "London Town" is by far the best of the bunch, especially considering she wrote it at the tender age of fourteen. Annoyingly, all of the tickets to the Hammersmith stop of her tour have sold out, but fortunately I've got my grubby mitts on some to see her at the Guildhall in Southampton. Cannot wait.

We are Open

Aren't we all a bit like that?

Whilst in traffic, the bus driver on the rail replacement service opened the doors whilst sat on a motorway bridge. I can't tell if it was to let in some fresh air or give my fellow ashen faced passengers an opportunity to throw themselves off.

Reading four P.M.

http://instagr.am/p/d5ag1/