I have a lot going on in the background at the moment, so that - and work - pretty much takes up all my time and mental resources, so outside anything essential, I’m just staring dumbfounded at crap films and blank walls.
Last night I managed to tear myself away from hysterical, drunk women being arrested for crashing cars into fences (police bodycam videos) and watched my absolute favourite episode of Tales of the Unexpected. The one where Joan Collins gets her head stuck in a so-so Henry Moore look-alike, and needs ‘extricating’. It’s an absolute masterpiece. Collins plays a slutty, man-hungry rich bitch who has dumbed down her docile, titled husband’s newspaper empire to little more than a stable of porn magazines - and as we’re talking stables, she rides as many horses as men. Despite already being serviced by rich but stupid Peter Bowles, she makes a move on her husband’s art historian friend. Sir John Guildgood plays the butler who we all realise is running the house for his own satisfaction. Carmen Silvera plays the spectacularly posh but stupid horsey friend who wafts about aimlessly in the background. It all ends badly for Joan, who chews more than the scenery and is clearly having the time of her fucking life with this role. I vaguely remember seeing this when it was first broadcast (I was 13) and suspecting that Joan’s hubby and the art chap were secret gay lovers. You can watch it here - it’s less than half an hour long and you’ll woop for joy at the inevitable climax!
I worked out that it’s exactly 30 years this week since I saw ‘The Usual Suspects’ at the cinema. Back then, I would hear about a film or listen to Barry Norman’s review - and just pop along and watch it. Afterwards I might tell a few friends. Now I know a film is coming 18 months in advance, read the detailed pre-release gossip, leaks and reviews - and before I get the chance to see it myself there will be more leaks and spoilers. By the time I get home, there will be a dozen detailed think pieces, videos and podcasts explaining why this is both the best and worst film ever made - all of which I will watch and read. Then a couple of days later, it will be on YouTube. The next week, I will sit through the entire film multiple times in watch-along video reactions online. I have no idea why I do this. It isn’t good.
Only a few days after his death, and I’ve already read several long opinion pieces from ‘name’ journalists explaining why they are not to blame for what happened to Jason Arday - and why he had it coming - but of course... they say that with ‘kindness’. I have not seen one person in the media being reflective, no self-examination, and not even once wishing things had been different. Haters gotta Hate and content creators gotta … create.
A group of three nurses have moved into the house next door but one. They are all in their 20’s. This may sound like the set-up to a 70’s TV show, but it’s no fun. They spend a lot of time in the garden with a disposable barbecue and talk rubbish VERY loudly. They have already put the bins out on the wrong day and give the foxes a 12-hour feast. I saw one attempting to clear the street of rotten food scraps in her scrubs. I have become my father.
I reluctantly have Amazon Prime this month because I needed some irregular stuff, and there is absolutely no retail here - It appears to be 60% ‘shark eats hot teenage girls’ movies. They have Marty Supreme. A film I now have absolutely no interest in seeing.
Print taken from a painting of Crowley by local artist (and very nice guy) Robert Sample - the original is about 6 feet high. This image appears in the book.
On Friday I finished the artwork for a book about Aleister Crowley’s last years living in Hastings at a hotel about a mile from my house - it was hard work and very complicated, but it’s an excellent book and very thoroughly researched by the writer Antony Clayton. I now know FAR TOO MUCH about Crowley. There are quite a few em spaces. All appropriate and all of human origin. Hopefully it’s back from the printers in time for a book fair I’m showing at in September.
Glad I'm not the only person obsessed with police bodycam videos!