Tuesday, 29 December 2009

What with 2009 rapidly approaching its end, my lack of anything remotely approaching a life, as well as the vast amount of time since I sat here and tried to string some coherent sentences together, I thought now would be the perfect time to sneak up and unleash another blog on the world. So that's what I'm gonna do. Right here & right now.

Haircut 100
So, a highlight of my year came last Saturday when I got my hair cut for what I think was the second time in the year. Once again it was a triumph over irrational fear, but I haven't got carried away just yet. I know that I'll have to face it again in the coming weeks. You'd have thought that after all these years I would have learned to deal with the whole ritual but I haven't. Each experience seems exactly as horrendous as the last, although this time I'll admit the result was pretty much what I'd wanted. Often I'm so traumatized by the aftermath of a cut that I need months of recovery before I can even contemplate a return. Usually within those months I'll hit a three or four week window when I am happy with it, but then, once the window is closed, the old fear will creep in. That awful realisation that at some point in the future I'll need to go through it all again. This stage - the dread stage - will go on for a good 18 weeks before I start the transition into the arguments with family stage. Here I'll complain at least once a day that "I need to get my hair cut" and then make up a variety of excuses as to why I can't. A popular one being that I can only go first thing in the morning. Nonsense really, but true. At this point dad will mention the place where he goes - Cousinz - and I will point blank refuse to go there. Ever. This will go on indefinitely until the day of the cut. I honestly cannot remember a day in our house when the word Cousinz has not been used. So, last Saturday, I'd made up my mind. Today was going to be the day. But then I start thinking about where I can go... and what do I ask for... and how much is it going to cost... will they only take cash... and what kind of chit chat is it going to be. Do I have to prepare some kind of interesting back story? Anyway, before I know it it's no longer first thing so the opportunity is gone. So I gave up. Dad calls me from work - he's on the old hands-free - and asks if I've done it. I told him that I hadn't and that it was too late now & there was nothing I could do, to which he replied "Get your fucking hair cut!" and hung up. After that I thought it best that I got my hair cut.

This was going to be that big round-up kind of piece, the showpiece entry where you go on about the year's highs and lows and all that shit, but all that stuff about the haircut damn near killed me. I'm in the middle of a cup of tea now, just trying to catch my train of thought. Took it right outta me, it did. You know, I had the proverbial shitload of really interesting things to write about and everything. I'm telling you, these things were absolutely mindblowing. Even mindmelting. But they're gone. Shit, shit, shit... I'll just have to talk about my work instead!

Pottering about in my studio (which is rather cunningly disguised as a plain old suburban garage, right down to the wheelie bin by the door) I've stumbled across something mildly exciting. I have these little 'breakthroughs' all the time, but this time I mean it. I've hit upon a process and a range of techniques which are giving me some pretty encouraging results and, more importantly, some pretty ambitious ideas. Don't want to say too much about them, as they're yet to be fully realised, but the outcomes so far have been promising. I've been working on a reasonably small scale - about 2ft x 2ft - but I think I'm ready to scale up in size. This stuff gives me a headache just by looking at it. I want to look away, because, frankly, it's horrible... but I get drawn back to it. It pushes me away. I want to keep looking but I can't. It makes my eyes feel like they're straining too hard. And this is on a small scale. But I plan on going large. I'm thinking 8ft by 3ft, that kind of size. I want to make something that's so aesthetically disgusting, and so overwhelming, that you feel physically sick just looking at it. I'm eagerly awaiting some resin that I ordered online a few days ago. I think this is gonna be the key. If what I'm thinking can't be realised with the resin then I think the work will die the death. Anyway, I've lusted after resin for a long time - albeit for use in another piece - so I've finally taken the plunge. It's a weird thing really, because the stuff I'm going on (and on and on) about didn't exist until a week or so ago. If anything it was the least exciting thing that I was doing. It's funny how that happens.

Anyway, enough of that, I'm boring myself now. Sorry you had to read all that. Let's talk EastEnders. Roxy did it. Mark my words.

I'm devastated over Archie's death. Not that I really give a fuck about the character or the show though, it just saddens me that I'm not gonna see Larry Lamb's seemingly lifeless face anymore. I suppose we've still got the final episode of Gavin & Stacey to marvel at it, but what's gonna happen after that. I mean, seriously... what is going to happen to Larry Lamb?

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