Saturday Exists for the Purpose of Star Wars Marathons

As the title may have suggested, I am having a Star Wars marathon. Star Wars Aficionado Magazine is making me feel space-sick and I also don't have a busy day week year lined up. So yes, film marathons and I areto have a longstanding, healthy relationship.

I love this. The amalgamation of two legendary films is visual and audial bliss...

"They go through bone like butter!"

No I am not on fucking Facebook. Sincerely!

When I tell some people I'm not in the biggest book of the universe, they stare at me like I told them I stalk them on a daily, rolling shift-type basis. Therefore, I have decided not to confess that I do the latter.

The Facebook masterminds are a dexterous lot. Deleting your account should be a piece of piss, but it's not. Sure you're able to deactivate your account but if you log in as normal during your state of deactivation, everything is exactly as you left it and as such, deactivation means shit all. Personally, Facebook sucked the life out of me and I would sporadically find myself logging in when there was really no need, so I opted to expunge myself from the Face of the Book. But I actually had to go on a bit of a web hunt to achieve that. Eventually I found a sneaky little link for permanent deletion posted by someone who had seen the same light I had. In the click of a button my account and details disappeared into cyberspace (is that too hopeful?) and, to be honest, I have never looked back. I haven't found myself yielding to any kind of temptation which is why I wondered why I was so obsessed with the thing when I actually possessed an account. But in fact it's not that Facebook has some uncanny hold over its Facebook whores, it's just that we are creatures of habit - pathetic ones really - and life's probably getting a little insipid on top of that.


Here's why I gave Facebook a rest:

1. Namely among females, communication gets incontrovertibly superficial. But we can't expect any less when we have here a social network built on passing judgement on another based on one's flawless profile pictures, comment witticisms, 'friend' count, status likeability etc. I cannot tell you how many times I happened across picture comments akin to this...

It's a camera in case you wondered

 Comments

Girl 1: You girls look so so pretty
Girl 2: Aw thank you babe but you're much prettier
Girl 3: Ew look at my hair. Take this off NOW!
Girl 1: You're hair looks beautiful. I wish I had your hair give. Give me it?
Girl 2: Your hair looks beaut
Girl 2: And you're so much prettier than me
Girl 3: No I don't, look at me I look like a man. So ugly.
Girl 3: Babes I'm the ugly one and you're the pretty one
Girl 1: No I'm ugly

Now this would make me giggle:

Girl 3: You know what, you've got it in one. Yes I AM prettier than both of you. My beauty surpasses yours a hundredfold! Do what's been suggested and take this image down, for I am the fucking prettiest girl alive. Who's the fairest of them all? Me!Yes!

 2. How exactly does Zuckerberg earn his millions from his brainchild? Well, we the people will 'like'/'become a fan' of virtually anything. If something's on your mind, it's also on Facebook and with a mere indolent click of the mouse, we're providing personal data. SOLD - to the fattest cat in business, in turn selling back to us and this time by pulling out all the right stops and appealing to us directly. They're crowdsourcing, we're eating it up. We're partaking in diminutive, daily market research questionnaires. I don't know about you but I'm not too crazy about the notion. Also, I'm not being paranoid. At least I don't think I am. Stop judging me. I can sense it. Stop judging. You detest me :(

3. I miss simpler times! Facebook is everything but. I don't claim to be the most gregarious, sociable or even personable person here, but 'networking' behind the shield that is your computer screen is hardly going to better a person shy of these qualities. How about instead of 'poking' somebody we have a vague, tepid relationship with, we glimpse them somewhere while out and about and accost them? How about in lieu of befriending strangers on the net, we just get ourself (and said stranger) pissed off our heads and that might be the foundation of a genuine, longstanding friendship. Okay, yes I'm a knob. Fuck it, Facebook's not going anywhere.

UK Release Date for Star Wars Blu-ray Revealed

UK Release Date for Star Wars Blu-ray Revealed

I stopped checking up on Google for the Star Wars Blu-Ray release date a while back, unable to determine any real confirmed date but it's here = September 12th! Thank you Lucas!

I realise I'm probably very late with this news but it's exhilirating nonetheless. The Blu-Ray SW saga comes with a hefty price tag though but this needn't concern me. I shall wait for my brother to purchase it - and oh he will - and then it will disappear most suddenly, most mysteriously from his London house. No one will know a thing. No clue as to it's whereabouts. Meanwhile I will be over 4000 miles away at University in Kent sacrificing Freshers' Week (booze, parties, life, establishing friend circles etc) for Star Wars and my laptop in bed. Who needs beer when I have Jawa juice in my room? Who needs parties when the Clone Wars are in full swing in my room. And fuck Uni education because I'm learning the ways of the force.

Say Good Night to the Good Guys

When it comes to somebody dying of unnatural causes, it's always always always an amiable, agreeable individual targeted. Okay, I understand that he who falls victim to death will never ever really be branded immoral or deserving of the death, but I'm talking about very special people here.

I'm not about to turn all pious on you, this blog is anything but that however, come on the undoubtedley justifiable notion that there is some sort of pattern here cannot go over one's head - at least not with ease. Brilliant people's lives are cut short, bastard's like us live on until maxed out. Something isn't right here.

I indirectly knew of a young man in Birmingham who was stabbed in close proximity to his house. He breathed only long enough to stagger the length to his home, where his mother sat and he told his mother he was sorry but he had to go. And go he did because such is life I suppose. He is still cherished by many who bore relation to him and must be proud that they knew such a staunch soul at all.

A man lives in London with his wife, no kids. The couple were considerably close to my mother. The man has cancer, I can't recall which, but the chemo has got the better of him. I've been told his face is swollen to such a degree he can hardly be recognised and tears will spring to any onlooker's eyes if they were met with such a spectacle. I don't believe in miracles but if there's some one who doles them out, now's as good a time as ever!

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked, stupidly. Stupid fucking question.

They just shake their head, Of course he's not. It's terminal, Einstein.

I have no doubt when I tell you he is good people. His wife too, they're always genuinely lovely and it shouldn't happen to lovely people.

R.I.P all the graceful people. Here's a song of grace for you!

The Killers @ Hyde Park

Who's going to see The Killers at Hyde Park tomorrow? Me that's who! And you? Well you're not going, no sir. I'm going. I am. To see The Killers. Hard Rock Calling. Hyde Park. To. Mo. Rrow.

Brandon Flowers is such a tart. But a hot one of course.

I just turned 20. Is it right for me to speak in retardanese and only construct the most diminutive sentences know to man? Well I do not know. What I do know is that I am going to make The Killers' day tomorrow by bringing my bright eager countenance to their presence.

Oh the joys of feeding off brilliant people in brilliant media careers meeting extra brilliant goals and receiving such perks as concert tickets. Perhaps the music gods cocked an ear up (note the 'up' - they're all down in hell) to my music-related woes a few days ago. I was complaining profusely about the lack of live talent and colossal selling out of great talent within seconds. I was of course skint as well. At present though, I'm quite content with the state of sound so I have stopped locking my dad in the shed (or whatever room within good proximity) for not conceiving me sooner so that I could appreciate the 70s and 80s radio times. This is a temporary armistice though, let me be clear, he's still incompetent with timing.

The Result of Too Many Mediocre Bands on Tour

I've been foraging Ticketmaster tiringly for a sound live concert to go to. There is shit all on offer.

There really really is shit all on offer.

As a result of this deficiency, we have people yielding to something, anything, just for a taste of the live stuff. We have artists like the Vaccines actually SOLD OUT for a gig just over two months from now. And Death Cab are all out which is so un-bloody-fair. All relatively average things - Kids In Glass Houses, Wombats - have nothing left so a ticket search for The Killers or Beady Eye would just be completely in vain, thus I won't bother. Are musicians being indolent now? Sure this is festival season but where are the warm-ups? Not everybody can afford festival tickets, especially when they include admission to several other artists you'd rather not give a cut of your piggybank gig pennies to.

It would appear Good Charlotte still have tickets for Shepherds Bush in August.  However, I don't think I'm that desperate. We need better live shit. Sometimes I lock my dad in the shed and curse him for not conceiving me sooner so I could see the wealth of good music that existed before my time.

I don't lock him up but the notion's been dominating my mind a fair bit lately.

Help, I have a life!

A month ago, I was indoors for detrimentally lengthy periods of time inhaling Pot Noodle, drinking Fosters and watching Green Wing/West Wing interchangeably. Presently, I am balancing a part-time editorial internship with an actual (paid) part-time job whilst constantly searching Essex high and low for a new property to reside in and writing for two other online publications. Ew. I'm astonished with myself, For most of you, something along the lines of these daily toils might actually be what you call life, but for me it's a whole new fucking step. I finally know what's it's like to feel...wait for it - 'busy' and I get that luscious sense of fatigue that you might do after a productive day's work. Not the type of fatigue that results from watching about four films into the small hours of the night, until the early birds come a-tweeting and scare the shite out of you.

On the contrary, despite the title of this post, punching the keys of my laptop ardently at peak time on a Friday night might reveal I don't have a life after all. But actually, if you've chosen to read any ponderings emanated from the likes of me...well I guess we're on the same boat.