28jan2005(later): Apologies if I'm wrong, but what's the
betting a 'Labour insults Howard's religion' headline I saw on the Tube
belonged to the Daily Mail or its subsidiary the Evening Standard?
A Labour election poster - of two flying pigs with the faces of Tory
politicians - is puerile but hardly offensive. However, some people are reading
between the lines and taking the pig metaphor as an insult to Michael Howard,
who has Jewish ancestry. Presumably the story throws in a mention of Auschwitz
for good measure - always good to sound topical. (While everyone's wallowing
in feel-good pity for the Jews this week, I think I'll try and remember the millions
more Russians who died at Hitler's hands instead, and who 60 years on spend far
less time trying to make everyone else feel sorry about it. Jews aren't the only
people holocausts happen to.)
What's funny is that I doubt Howard himself would even think of the
pig angle; it's just another campaign poster to fight off. But the Daily Mail
- the standard bearer of narrow-minded little-Englanders from Cornwall to Cumbria,
who take offence at everything and see insult everywhere - sees the opportunity
and takes a pop. And the lower bar on journalism in the UK falls that little
bit lower.
I've practically given up buying newspapers except the Times and
the Guardian, but give me the honest sensationalism of The Sun to the self-righteous
indignation of the Mail any day. Their endless knee-jerk negativity is more corrosive
than anything in Mein Kampf.
28jan2005: A theory of hats. My pal Paul affects
a cowboy hat, and at a gallery opening last night received unsolicited approaches
from at least two women - also wearing hats. Even just standing in our group
of four, Paul was the pointman for all contacts with the group as London's art
crowd milled around us. Do hats mark you out as available? Or perhaps in today's
predominantly non-hatted society, wearing a hat is a sign of greater gregariousness,
indicating a more interesting person. Either way, hatted people seem to get together
more often. Perhaps I should add a fedora to my street armoury.
24jan2005: Busy, busy, busy. I'm sure I should be making
more money than this! Somehow, I've managed to book a whole week of meetings
and work without actually charging for anything - bad news. It's odd
how the more you spend, the more relaxed you can be about money: I've
just laid out £6K on a new kitchen, so I should be on an economy
drive - but I seem to be going out more often than ever.
22jan2005: Case in point where it pays to be educated,
even if you've educated yourself (like me.) There's a new TVC for Red Bull on
the UK's commercial channels: a cartoon cat looks pleased with itself, to a background
of classical music. At the end of the 30sec-r, the cam pans up and we see an
empty birdcage - high above - with no bird in it. Perfect for Red Bull's 'Give
you Wings' tagline. The music? It's the third piece from Mozart's 'Magic Flute'
- the theme
of the birdcatcher. Not one in a thousand TV viewers will ever know it, but
that's the reason the music feels so right.
19jan2005: Gearing up. Triathlon season's not far
away, so I've started booking up: eight races this year, including the big one
in London after a very busy July. My goal: to hit 2hr30min times consistently,
aiming for a sub-25min swim, sub-75min bike, and sub-50min run. So: 32km/h on
the bike, and sub 5min kilometres on foot (or 12km/h.) Time to start putting
it all together.
11jan2005: been in the City today, so I'm watching 'Wall
Street' on DVD. What's amazing is how incredibly dated it looks. Putting
up fake brickwall wallpaper? (OK, it says something ironic about Bud Fox's former
residence and thus contributes to the film, but still..) And Daryl and Charlie
in the kitchen of Bud's new apartment: pasta maker? Drinking Chardonnay? Taking
Haagen-Dazs out of the fridge and putting it in the microwave for 10 seconds?
Seemed so decadent and sophisticated back then, but today it takes place in every
ratbitten bedsit in East London four times a week. (He says, taking a tub of
(checks) Vanilla Caramel Brownie of out his fridge.) And Charlie Sheen in a kimono?
In the 80s, it signified exotic chic, but today - actually, I'd prefer not to
dwell on that thought.
Times change. And, if you wait long enough, they come back around
again. I'm already concerned that my new kitchen, freestanding cooking theatre
wedged between two truncated stretches of hardwood worktop, doesn't have the
strength of brand to last out the year.
31dec2004: Good year, or bad? In business, it's been
a busy year - which means I haven't had time to do anything other than work.
The 'pump was supposed to provide an income and the time to let me explore other
things; it hasn't worked out that way, and you can't get rich selling your time.
So in 2005 I've got to focus my life on thriving instead of just living.
But home life has been a minor triumph. Buying a
chunk of London property was a great move; I'm really enjoying this little townhouse.
Never thought I'd have so much fun visiting DIY stores and polishing my new kitchen.
And physically I've grown too. The triathlon now
forms the backbone of my life. A 1500m swim or 10km run is now just a normal
thing to do of an evening. After a year of Olympic distance triathlons in 2005,
I'm going to work on doing the half-Ironman in 2006 and the full Ironman distance
in 2007, joining the ranks of the toughest guys in sport.
Mentally not so good though; don't feel I've learned much that's new.
In 2005 I want to improve my French and learn more about finance. Haven't read
half what I wanted to this year.
So all in all: about half satisfactory. An okay year, not a great
one.
28dec2004: 'The House of Flying Daggers'. Brilliant!
'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' was seen as a piece of cliche-ridden
audience fodder in China, but I always thought Zhang Ziyi would break through
to Western audiences in a way Gong Li never quite managed. While Zhang makes
a few concessions to his anticipated Western audiences - he's got to make a living,
after all - the narrative remains Chinese, deliciously alien even to those Westerners
who've travelled within that vast nation's borders.
It's beautifully photographed, with every scene a potential oil painting.
But the differences in Chinese and Western storytelling are there from the first
frame. Characters don't behave as Western minds imagine they should. A lifelong
love turns into a rapist; a tortured patriot never admits it; a woman who's not
supposed to make up her mind, and - never does. The characters and their motivations
are alien to the Western experience (unlike, say, Hongkong chop-socky, which
has always been based on strictly Western principles of honour. How else would
the Western guy with two weeks of practice always manage to beat off the evil
Asian guy's entire black-belted gang?)
In the West, the epic battle would have been the movie's climactic setpiece;
in Zhang Yimou's screenplay, it's just a backdrop to the interactions between
the main characters, not even appearing on screen for more than a second or two.
And of course there's no happy ending.
But most of all it's that photography. You don't so much watch this
film as admire it like a great painting. If the picture were hung in a darkened
gallery without a frame around it. And the subjects didn't keep still. And the
gallery sold popcorn.
