I watched Revolutionary Road last night, under divided expectations. On the one hand, a Sam Mendes film with DiCaprio and Winslet is bound to be good (and I had the benefit of looking retrospectively at all the praise it was awarded when it came out). On the other hand though, my whole family hated it. I say hated it. I think they despised it.

It was superb! Absolutely superb. I'm not going to review it or anything as I rather missed the boat, but it was the most ballistic look at suburbia. And best of all, it was relatively cliche free (interestingly, the affairs that crop up on both sides of DiCaprio and Winslet's fragmenting marriage are displayed unflinchingly, and then left as loose threads, part of an embroidery of family life that unravels with disturbing speed and force.

Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I will change the look of the site. It's just boring now, and I do want to make room for comments. Seeing as only I read it, it's not like there is going to be a whole heap of outrage over it either. So I will do that soon, and perhaps post up here my ideas. This is really just to keep the blog on track until something interesting happens in my life - I'm mainly just working and reading. Tomorrow I hope to start going on Kerrigan's book in preperation for next year. Excited about it, as his other work has always been excellent, and a bloody good read, and it will also pacify some growing demons about my ability to take the step up for next year. Off to hunt for a new design now. Turrah.

Labels: film

...in the words of Cole Porter. In my words - I feel hotter than the sun. By no insubstantial degree (excuse the pun) as well. The last few days have been absolutely baking here, and although yesterday I stayed out of the heatwave for the main part, as I was holed up in a warm office, today I stupidly decided to go and get some sun.

Having the day off, and a new few books having arrived in the post (Redmon O'Hanlon's Congo Journey and Tom Sharpe's Porterhouse Blue, since you asked) I decided to grab some rays. The British sun, I reasoned, might strut around the midday zenith, promising famine and desiccated ground, but in reality, its bark is worse than its bite. How wrong I was. To carry on the imagery, and also to quote another brilliant song writer, today it was proven that only 'mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.' I now am the proud owner of some rather overdone torso, and undeniably pinky thighs. I hope they settle down into tan. The chastising sting of the shower on my over-ripened skin suggests that is wishful thinking. However, burnt sections aside, I still managed to make the most of the freakishly good weather by enjoying Pimms and a bbq outside with the family. All very civilised, and, more to the point, all very enjoyable. Spoke to Anna on Skype, which was, as always, good, but close enough to reality to remind you of the deficiencies of talking to someone online only.

Also, I was considering changing the skin of this blog. Maybe to something with comments. It would certainly be nice to have some feedback from that chap in Moscow for example, see what he thought of the site. Also, although I found the yellow kind of interesting, now I find it just...obscenely yellow. You can have too much of a good thing, and sadly I think that has turned out to be the case with everyone's least favourite primary colour.

Labels: reading, weather

Friends, countrymen, and most importantly - Russians. This blog has entered a new era. At some point within the last week, this blog had its first non-Anglophone hit. Straight out of the former USSR, our mystery blogger came and had a taste of this bootless moan. And the blogger tasted the content available on the blog, and it was good, and that fact in conjunction with the fact that I will use some words frequently searched for by Russians in this post should put me well on my way to securing countless other Russian followers.

As you can see, from this representative graph, Russian traffic is still relatively low, internet traffic that is - people trafficking remains high. (Gotta love a dig at another culture). However, when that great swathe of continent turned even the pale shimmer of green that it currently stays at, my heart leapt. There is no doubt in my mind that within a few weeks tops, it will be pushing black with the volume of traffic we will receive.

It also makes me think, if the Russians like it, perhaps there are other emerging bootless moan markets we ought to expand into. Not many blogs in Mongolia - perhaps there is an opportunity there. Hardly ever see a blog from Madagascar - is it time that we single handedly changed that? Does Timbuktu need our blog too? All important questions, which will be dealt with as soon as the (inevitable) tide of Easter European visitors swells the stats of my humble blog to gargantuan proportions.
 
(Edit: MIDNIGHT) Right everyone, thought I would hit you with a quick update. It must be quick because, clearly, people are rampaging over this site, and if they don't new content delivered over the wires at a rate of many knots, then they will not be pleased. It turns out through further investigation that my mystery vodka-swilling guest was from Moscow. Amazingly Google Analytics can tell me things like that. Rather more depressingly it also lets me know the average amount of time that my visitor spent on the blog. Drumroll please:


So, less than half a second. Be honest - that's pretty bad. Even for this blog, that's shameful. I'm sad in a way I'm publishing this fact to the web. I'd rather be a Dungeons & Dragons player than have a blog with one hit from a dude sat in his Mum's house in Moscow who decided, in the space of one blink of the eyelid, that my blog was completely, unarguably not worth hanging around.

Anyway, other than emitting animal-like magnetisim to all things Eastern-bloc, I have been doing very little except for moving out of London for the forseeable future.

Sad face. :(

Labels: blog, Russia

No, I jest, it was actually quite good weather. Ok, it was no Maldivian paradise, but the Maldives doesn't have sweeping glacial valleys either. Or any elevation at all come to think of it. Spent just a day up there with the long drive up and down on either side, and enjoyed it very much. I don't think I can get in a car again for another few years without my back delaminating and simply splitting all the way down. Also have found after listening to Radio 1 for some 9 hours non-stop on the way back down to Reading (via London) that with the exception of Scott Mills' banter, it includes some of the worst music, coupled with the worst playlisting, ever known to man. Who knew that a bad song ought not to be played once, but multiple times.

Anyway, here are some quick pics from fb. I realise we are wearing the same hoody in the bottom two photos. That is because we are excellent. Also (as I have excitedly told everyone) the picture of the over-zealous glasshouse is the world's largest palm house (as in palm trees are kept inside, not mystic megs or the mutilated hands) in Edinburgh's free, and very excellent, botanical gardens.

Labels: Edinburgh, travel

"The circle of human knowledge, illuminated by the pale, cold light of reason, is so infinitesimally small, the dark regions of human ignorance which lie beyond that luminous ring so immeasurably vast, that imagination is feign to step up to the borderline and send the warm, richly colored beams of her fairy lantern streaming out into the darkness ; and so, peering into the gloom, she is apt to mistake the shadowy reflections of her own figure for real beings moving in the abyss.

Sir James George FrazerThe Golden Bough

April 2010 / May 2010 / June 2010 / July 2010 / August 2010 / September 2010 / February 2011 / April 2011 / August 2011 / September 2011 /

Messing with Illustrator / /homeless / The irony of househunting. / Househunting / Some old material / Favourite capture on Google Maps Street View / Idiot librarian / THIS IS NOT THAT DAY! / Confirmation (not religious) / love data? love data. /

The title of this blog comes from a poem by Coleridge, A Wish: Wriiten in Jesus Wood, Feb. 10th, 1792, Plus most blogs are moans anyway. Including this one. lol manuscripts

email me here
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bootlessmoan.blogspot.com

I'm a 23 year-old student in London Cambridge London, studying English Literature Law. It's hard to really think of anything truly personal I can put here that might give you some idea of who I am, so I will just tell you that my favourite Shakespeare play is Richard II, my favourite chocolate bar is Snickers, and I have a bit of a thing for instant coffee, especially if someone else makes it for me.

I'm interested in Renaissance Literature, Higher Education policy, and libraries.
I'm completely in love with a Scottish girl.