Saturday, 15 December 2007


Feeling rubbish today, which I don't understand as I only had a couple of beers last night. Been sat around reading various year-end round-ups, and much as I hate to post links to lots of Guardian articles (it's hardly the most esoteric) the Guide's summary of Control is pretty telling:

Most Predictable Ending: Control Anton Corbijn's coffee-table tragedy was apparently the best film of the year, but you could hardly call it a suspense thriller - except in the most literal sense. The world and its mother knew that Ian Curtis was going to hang himself at the end, didn't they? And given Control's dead-straight A-Z structure, by halfway through you were just waiting for Sam Riley to get the rope out. By a process of elimination, it was equally inevitable that Atmosphere would swell up over the end credits. Where's David Lynch when you need him?

For what it's worth, I declare 2007 to be a decidedly non-vintage y
ear. Owing to MDes course pressures my own artistic output totaled one sculpture, produced for the members' show. Still, I hereby pledge a much more prolific 2008, honest.

Tonight I'll be calling in at the noise event over the road for a swift half before Match of the Day starts.

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