Two Steps Back (title ref: 8H98JJupW2)

Good evening.*

*appropriateness of greeting may vary based on time of reading

I had thought that my busyness might be about to wane. I was incorrect. If anything, I feel even busier. My job has involved helping set up a new database system.

Yes, you're right to be impressed.

But transferring data is more complicated than it sounds. And more tedious.

It has infected me. I can't remove the technostench, even when I leave the office. All my dreams are now viewed through the framework of this new system. All of them. Disparate concepts are connected by unique alphanumeric reference keys and look-up fields and custom links. I need to log in to my own brain.

I think I've gone crazy. And not in an entertaining way, where I shout and wear colourful pantaloons. In a genuine way - where I just loose my grip on the world and everyone feels a bit sad.

I'm sure it is only for a short time. It must be. But my to-do list seems to spawn new tasks faster than you can say virulent rabbit mitosis. I'm worried that by the time it's over, I'll have forgotten how to love or, even worse, how to blog or tweet.

I'm trying to force myself to write these, so I can get back on the horse-wagon. So I apologise if I don't reach my previous standards.

"Paul, you could reach your usual standards if you were trapped in a mineshaft sans hands (and sans Hans, your German mining instructor)."

Who wrote that? I should stop leaving my computer unattended when I go to run a bath, the operation of which is a logistical minefield at the best of times.

This is my fourth post of September. My previous record for sparse blog posts was September 2007, where I only managed five posts. It looks like I wasn't too chipper then either. Maybe I have Septembral Affected Disorder.

But in September 2008 I managed sixteen posts, including a gem about ironing my scrotum.

And I managed 12 posts in September 2009, including a photo of Steve Stone.

I'm sure it will pass. I can weather this storm.

I'll probably come up with an interesting idea soon, and everything will be back on track.

Any minute now.

.

.

.

Hey! How about a new character? They're always fun! And wacky!

My new character is called Michael Hedges.

He works in a shop. It's a stationery shop. He's thirty.

Imagine all the adventures he can get up to!

You already have. Because he can't get up to any adventures. He doesn't even try.

***

Gold!

I should finish with a photo. I like doing that, because it shows up on my automatic Facebook blog update. It makes me look like I've done some research, when all I've done is Googled this sentence and then posted the fourth image result.


It appears to be Paula Abdul.

True story: in primary school I was singing her song Opposites Attract, and in the bit where she sings "two steps forward, and two steps back", I took two steps back and collided with my teacher.

It was embarrassing.

It was the video with the cartoon cat.

He exemplified the concept of the opposite, because Paula Abdul was neither a cat, nor animated, nor an animated cat.

Remember that?

Remember?



True story: the video for the Fall song Two Steps Back also involved a cartoon cat, which was asphyxiated by Mark E Smith before filming had even begun.

But I didn't know that at the time. I was in primary school.

Lens

I saw The Fall live for the first time last night.

The guitarist looked like Nicolas Cage, the bassist was a funky skinhead, the keyboardist resembled a pixie on the Enterprise, the drummer was an android on speed, Mark E Smith prowled around like a drunk uncle splitting the atom.

It was very good.

***

I was going to write about how I get annoyed by people complaining about the early onset of Christmas. They think it gets earlier every year.

It doesn't.

I remember thinking Christmas adverts/displays/promotions were arriving too early. That was fifteen years ago. If they were getting earlier every year, the adverts would now be appearing before the previous Christmas.

But I got bored by that. I get worried about expressing my opinions. The trouble is, I'm always right. Always.

Which means that other correct people have already said what I want to say.

If only I was wrong: I'd have the opportunity to be revolutionary.

But I'm not wrong. I'm never wrong.

That's my gift. It's also my curse.

[The preceding section was mainly wrong]


***

When I'm in a bad mood, the whole world frowns with me. I see evidence everywhere of shallowness and cruelty. If I'm feeling down, scrolling through the TV channels becomes a showcase of society's many cancers.

People on the bus become emblems of disgusting inhumanity, all adverts become painfully cynical, all tasks become pointless.

That's the trouble with the human brain. You use it as a filter to interpret the arbitrary world. So you can view everything through rose-tinted spectacles or a visor of shit.

I'm wearing the shit-visor now, and it's unpleasant. I can't see much, and it's reluctant to stay on my head.

We should be able to master our subjective viewpoints by now. I suppose that's what meditation is about, and religion, and psychology, and philosophy, and Jeremy Kyle (with his black, black blood).

But we wouldn't want to have complete control. It would be boring. So much of human activity is based on avoiding complacency. We need the impetus to grow, which means we'll never be totally satisfied. We'll never know the meaning of life.

Except that growing and evolving is the meaning of life. But we can't relax with that knowledge. Because we have to keep up with all the other evolving things in the world. It's the whole Red Queen thing.

I should probably talk about it in more detail, but I'm really just trying to distract myself from a bad day.

That's my coping strategy: misery, whining, philosophising, one glorious moment of epiphany, a less-glorious epiphany realising I've wasted my time, a conclusion listing all the stages of the process, a self-reflexive parting remark.

I should probably change things up a bit, but it's difficult to see the keyboard with all this excrement over my eyes.

Pay Your Rates!

I may have mentioned this before, but The Fall are the best band in the world.

I listen to The Fall whenever I'm feeling creatively stagnant or artistically bereft, and they cleanse me like a glorious bleach. They are the black coffee of music - pure and rich and cynical.

Mark E Smith is a hero, largely because there's never any question that he's a nice guy. There's no part of me that thinks we'd really get on. From the outset, I've known that he's scathing and ugly, and that enables me to respect him, without diluting that respect with affection or warmth.

That's the trouble with hero-worship. I used to want my heroes to believe everything I did, and to be just like me.

I love the wit and musical ability of Ben Folds, but he's a bit of a misogynist. I love the integrity and skill of Stewart Lee, but he seems aloof and a bit of a snob. I love Chris Benoit's professionalism and wrestling acumen, but he murdered his wife and child, and committed suicide. Heroes shouldn't really do that.

But Mark E Smith is a grumpy, erratic dick. A genius-dick, I'll grant you. But a dick nonetheless. So I can bathe in the acidity of his work without worrying about whether he'd like me. He wouldn't like me. There's something appealing about that.

The first Fall track I heard hooked me immediately. I don't know why, exactly. Your mid-20s are probably too late to be falling in love with bands. Here it is:



We all know that people heaping praise on someone or something is really annoying, so I'll stop there.

It's difficult to strike the right balance between irritating fanboy love and constant complaining. You want to share your enthusiasm in a non-annoying way, like Josie Long does. But it takes a level of skill that I don't really have.

So instead, I avoid the issue, by wandering off on stupid diversions, like an ox straying from a country lane into the Indy 500 (only to finish in third place, after a yak and a horse dressed like Penelope Pitstop).

That last sentence annoyed me. It was a bit too wacky, just for the sake of it. It's bad to self-annoy. You have no-one to punch but yourself. I could delete it, of course. But I'm scrupulously honest. If I deleted it now, I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror.

Sometimes, having this much integrity can be something of a burden. That's why once a month, every month, I burn down an orphanage.

Stuff I Like

I know The Fall is something of an acquired taste, but I think this is almost as good as the lyrebird video. Just much louder.



***

While I'm recommending good things, I suggest everyone subscribes to the Collings and Herrin podcast. You can download mp3s here, or subscribe on iTunes. If you've never downloaded a podcast before, you should give it a try. It's good to be able to download a chunk of generally funny stuff every week. Even if you don't listen to it on a mp3 player, it's pretty fun to listen to some spontaneous banter, especially if you share their sense of humour.

This one is by Andrew Collins and Richard Herring (despite what the title may suggest). Collins used to do a radio show on BBC 6music, and Herring would join in to review the week's papers. This new podcast is a bit like that, except they're able to swear. It is quite amateurish in its production, with is all the more endearing.

Collins is a journalist and writer, and Herring is a comedian. I've probably written about the latter here before, but he used to be one half of Lee and Herring (guess which one) who did Fist of Fun and This Morning With Richard Not Judy. He's also a stand-up (you can by his DVDs here, I recommend Someone Likes Yoghurt). Also (and I'm sure I have written about this before), was in the audience when I did stand-up once, but was too scared to talk to him.

I've probably mentioned this before too, but he writes a daily blog/diary which is usually a good read, and may have inspired me to write this one. Collins also does a blog which is worth checking out.

Anyway, subscribe to the podcast, even of you don't want to listen to it, as they seem (Collins in particular) to be boyishly excited by how well the 'cast does in the iTunes rankings. It makes them seem like real people, which I like in a celebrity, as it makes it seem like they were once like me. Except even the laziest celebrity probably tried harder than I do. But I like to fool myself.

***

Writing the above entries has reminded my how annoying I find it when people are intent on telling you how great something is, or what an amazing person someone is. Unless they're talking about me, or someone I already know, it just seems like gloating.

"You haven't heard of X? Oh, they're amazing."

Yeah? Well I hate X. And I hate anyone who likes X. As far as I'm concerned, X is a C

(unt).

What's in a name?

Lucy and I have been discussing good names for our children, and have come up with some belters. The trouble with my surname is that most first names sound stupid with it. Fung. It sounds like a gong or a comedy sound effect.

Also, as it is a one-syllable word beginning in a 'f' you can't use any names ending in a 'y'. For example, 'Molly Fung' sounds a bit like mollify, which is a bit confusing.

Also (2), the best Fung name has been taken by my cousin, who named his daughter Jasmine Mei Fung. That can't be beat. But we might steal it. Especially as my name was also stolen from a relative.

Anyway, after some deliberation we believe the best candidates for young Fungs are:

Cratthew Fung
Egg Yoo Fung
1996, huh? Fung

I think these are pretty golden; almost as good as Lucy's desire to have three sons called Lee, Harvey and Oswald.

***

I recently downloaded two albums each of Creedence Clearwater Revival and The Fall. I'm not sure why those two together, but it seemed right.

Creedence came back to my attention after watching The Big Lebowski for the first time in ages. Man, that film is good. Much like The Graduate, it has every type of joke in it. Anyway, I'm digging their weird swamp rock stylings.

The Fall, on the other hand, have pretty much blown my mind. They were a band who I'd always heard about, and seemed like I should listen to, but I couldn't be bothered. But Stewart Lee likes them, so I thought I'd grudgingly give them a try. But what I've heard so far is fucking awesome.

***

I'm all out of interesting things to say now. Perhaps I can start including golden moments from previous posts. It will be like one of those clip-shows everyone loves. Here's a good one:

"Man, that film is good." Nov 6 2007

Good times. You used to have talent, kid...