Wow, big parade of traffic cones, barricades and diversion signs heading over Blackfriars bridge. A load of buses out of service coming the other way. London is officially closed.

Well, it seems like London is under attack. For me, this has meant.. walking to work. I know, it’s a heavy toll.

Buses are being pulled out of service, the Tube is shut down. Liverpool Street (my station) was being slowly but surely evacuated as I arrived this morning. The city is full of sirens and bustle, it’s like very calm chaos. No-one is panicking, but no-one is at ease, either. We’re ready to jump but we’re just too laid-back to do it without things actually going bang in our face.

This is weird. So. Very. Weird.

I’ve lived in London for a couple of years now, and not once have I heard anyone say “You know what we need? A world-class velodrome.” But, apparently, we’re going to have one. Great! Bulldoze the Lea Valley! Put in… a massive car-park. And.. what’s that? An Olympic-standard swimming pool? Woo! What about, you know, affordable housing, or a nice enterprise zone (should such things still exist)? Oh, what about all the businesses located in the Olympic Building Site? I’m sure they’ll be fine in.. whatever void they are cast to. At least we’ll have somewhere to park coaches in 2013. In Leyton. Tourists dig Leyton, right?

Apparently I don’t do updates anymore. I just look at my site and use it as a place to go from. Bad news! I’m not as bad as Marv, mind. He SUCK SO HARD HE BLOWS! Sorry, Marv, but it had to be said.

So what’s happening, daddio?

We-ell. Let’s see. Fuck me, it’s hot! I mean, I know it’s the solstice, longest day any day now but come on! You know why, don’t you? Big Brother. Every year, like a charm, it brings out the sun. I start with a comment about the weather? Boy, am I English..

I’ve been upping my cinema visits! You saw the unfocussed ramble about Revenge of the Muthafuckin’ Sith, and I saw Sin City since (so you don’t have to. And you really don’t. Avoid!) and on Wednesday Batman Begins! Then continues and eventually ends after about 2 hours. Anyone from FU will notice that I stole that joke, but haha! I’m not just writing for you , and they don’t know, do they? Only they do now. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.

I’ve been playing Lego Star Wars, and you should too. It’s insufferably cute! I don’t know why, but they’ve made Obi-Wan a bit of a doofus and it works so well that Lucas should CGI a daffy grin onto Ewan’s face when he inevitably fucks about with the prequels in 15 years.

Dr Who is over for now, and wasn’t it just awesome? I can’t help but worry we’ll be cringing behind the sofa in ten years at the naffness but right here and right now for those 13 weeks there was nothing to touch it on TV. The sheer quality of the performances glossed over some actually not great writing and the enthusiasm of everyone involved created the most astonishingly good series of a British sf show I’ve seen since… sod it, forever.

Enough geeking out! The new White Stripes album is a serious grower but has now won itself a place in my heart. The new Gorillaz, meanwhile, has still to prove itself. No matter! I’m sure to give it time. Meanwhile I’ve been listening to Oobermann’s Magic Treehouse album from a while back and it’s adorably fun. But, again, I’m starting to cringe at it from a distance. Not as badly as I cringed when I listened to Therapy?’s Troublegum.. but a bit. Still, again, enthusiasm is papering over the cracks.

That was still geeky. Okay, I’m going to put up some shelves over the weekend and then have a barbecue. How’s that?

Hello, Sir!
Originally uploaded by RandomMoth.

Lookit!

I was in John Lewis on Oxford Street today and oh my! Approaching the toy department, you hear a very familiar noise. Is that..?

When you reach the department, guarding the entrance is a 6’6″ Darth Vader, breathing loudly and making various comments about joining us or dying, or accepting apologies. And – best of all – he’s made of Lego! Dude rocks. Oh, there’s another one, too, but he’s not made of Lego.

I think I’m going to avoid Live 8. I don’t feel the need to be a part of this particular global event, and if my grandchildren ask me about it I’ll say “Well, kiddiewinkies, I just didn’t see the point. Now go and get me some space milk from the space corner shop.”

I’m happy for charities to ask me for money. Well, not happy, but I get it. I give them money, they give it to people who need it for whatever reason. Whatever good reason I mean, not “they need a new bike” or something.

But this? Consciousness raising? What kind of useless hippy crap is this? Are the G8 leaders really going to write off Third World debt because Madonna does a free gig in Hyde Park? Will it really end the suffering of millions if the heads of state of the wealthiest nations see Bono (practically the 9th wealthiest nation in himself) prancing about lecturing people between lumpen slabs of Dadrock? Actually, that might even add to the suffering, bringing it to people in the First World, too. Which is egalitarian, I suppose.

My feeling is that mass protest of this sort makes no difference. Look at the regular, massive marches against the Iraq War. Boy, that sure stopped us going to war, didn’t it? Oh, no, wait.

Why do I still watch this stuff? It’s a question I’ve asked myself a few times recently. Am I seduced by nostalgia and hype? I hope not, though there’s a fair amount of that. But it’s not the entire answer.

Am I, then, enraptured by the story unfolding before me over 6 films and more than 12 hours? Again, I don’t think that’s quite it. True, I get involved with the movies when I watch them (ahem, Episode I apart), and tonight I found myself wrapped up in the story of Episode III to such an extent that I actually found my critical faculties had been disengaged by my narrative concentration. This doesn’t happen often. Usually I have a response to a film formulated by the end, this time I just sat and dumbly watched the credits until they flicked the lights and shooed me out. I was taking in the enormity of what had happened – not onscreen (though that was pretty huge, it was not unexpected), but inside me.

It’s over. Something I’ve carried with me since day one – I was born the year Star Wars was born, as the twins were born the same time Vader was rising – something I had thought complete for so long was now truly complete.

But why – to return to my original thought – do I care so much? Honestly, I don’t know. At points during Sith I thought “If I wasn’t a fan, this would be shit. Look at that! What’s up with that?”

But I am a fan. I think it’s that simple. I care because I love the films, like I love a person. Okay, you’re backing away, but it’s the only applicable emotion. It’s flawed as hell, it’s difficult and it’s sometimes bafflingly frustrating. Sound like anything you’ve experienced lately? But I love it anyway, you love what you love and if you feel like there’s something wrong with it, there’s something wrong with you, because you’re bound to it.

Hmm. Special pleading much? Can’t the films be films, do you have to get all fanboy on us and view them on merit? Actually, amazingly, I think they can be viewed on merit. But not by me. And not by those who hate Star Wars, either, because that’s as unreasonable as love.
So fuck it. Here’s my review:
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In the article on Freddie Mercury, one finds this –

“Although Mercury may have passed in the real world, he appears as a recurring character in the Japanese anime series Sakigake!! Cromartie High!. Wearing only long brown pants with red suspenders he is known to the main characters only as “Freddie”. He does not speak despite moments of him singing (although his voice is not audible) and is sometimes seen riding around on a giant black horse. Some people wonder if he understands Japanese. He also is normally introduced by a harmonious guitar riff.”

How does that not rock? Answer – in no way does it not rock. Oh, I’m actually confused by my own grammar now.

Magpies love cheese. Who knew?