Much as it fills me with self-loathing to admit it, I’m completely addicted to The X-Factor this year, despite the fact none of them are in reality all that good. I mean, let’s face it, none of them are Leona Lewis, are they? I doubt we’ll ever see her like again on the show.
Except earlier tonight, obviously, when she was performing.
I don’t even watch it for the music, it’s the whole pantomime of the thing I enjoy. I love how the audience boo the negative comments, cheer the positive ones, and kind of go “Yeahrumoobme” when they can’t figure out if the judge was being nasty or nice.
I have absolutely no preference as to who wins the thing. None. Earlier on I thought Diana was really good, but now I think she sounds quite like Cilla Black. She also has a strangely shiny face and mad hair, like the producers are making her sleep rough or something. No wonder she lost her voice. Bless.
And then we come to Eoghan, the cheeky 16 year old scamp from Northern Ireland. I don’t like Eoghan for three reasons:
1) He has a face like a Jim Henson puppet - specifically Hoggle out of Labyrinth. 2) “Eoghan” is a ridiculous way to spell “Owen”. “Eoghan” is how I would spell the sound someone makes when coughing up phlegm. 3) His hair. Jesus Christ, his hair.
Now, I’m past the age of knowing what’s fashionable and what’s not (and, in fact, I’ve never known) but surely no-one can think that hair looks good? It looks like someone tried to sculpt an ice cream cone out of straw. It’s the abominable offspring of Worzel Gummidge and a Mr Whippy. It is hair which should not be.
I felt bad for Daniel going out tonight, because he seemed like a nice guy. On the other hand, he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, so the fact he made it this far is a testament to the terrible taste of the British viewing public. Good on him, though. Any enemy of Louis Walsh is all right in my book.
Because who can honestly say they like Louis Walsh? He’s a repugnant, pathetic, petty little man without an ounce of charisma. If I was to make it to the Judge’s house stage of the X-Factor and discovered I was going to Louis’ house, I’d pull out of the competition there and then.
No, that’s not true. I’d go to Louis’ house, burn it to the ground, then pull out of the competition. That’d show the obnoxious little toad.
After Kyle had finished school today, we took him round to visit the house of two of his school friends (who are brother and sister, hence them living in the same house). We’d planned spending an hour or two there , before heading back home.
Seven hours later, having discussed everything from organised religion (bad) to Chewbacca from Star Wars (good), we finally called it a night. It’s very rare I can spend that much time away from the computer without breaking into cold sweats about all the writing I should be doing, but tonight I didn’t give it a second thought. It was just a really nice evening of chat, apple crumble, and dancing dogs. Well, one dancing dog, anyway, but then one’s just enough.
In other news, I got my contract today for … well, I can’t tell you yet. Soon, though, very soon …
Still haven’t taken a photo of my charity shop book. Nor have I started to read it. Tomorrow, I promise.
Having a complete head-wrecker of a day for various reasons, so no big blog post here tonight, folks. Haven’t even looked at the chick-lit trash book I bought from the charity shop yet. Nor can I remember the name of it at present, or the author. I believe it’s about a 40-something woman with a gaggle of kids, who is disenchanted with love until she happens upon a handsome chap who … who …
Oh, I’m sorry, I actually passed out there for a moment. Consciousness willing, I’ll take a look at it tomorrow and spill all the details. I realise this is about the third time I’ve said “I’ll do it tomorrow”, but it’s my blog, so deal with it and move on.
Sometimes this writing lark is easy. You can come up with an idea, or reach a certain point in a story, and the words just flow out onto the page. Kind of like Tippex, but with precisely the opposite effect.
That’s what happened with my new manuscript, which we’ll call NotLT for not-giving-the-whole-story-away-by-revealing-the-title reasons.
Essentially, I wrote the entire thing over the space of four evenings in a hotel in Dublin. During those 20-24 hours, I sat with my laptop, only stopping writing for the occasional toilet break and Pot Noodle. Not, I should stress, at the same time.
Anyway, I made a couple of very small tweaks to the story when I got back, and sent the manuscript off to my agent, Kathryn Ross. Today, she got back to me with some very positive feedback, and a couple of minor criticisms which required the ending to be rejigged a bit.
The changes took me all of an hour, meaning at most the entire manuscript has taken less than 25 hours to go from concept to a draft which is ready to be submitted. I’m quite proud of that.
Of course, that’s not to say it’s any good. Only time will tell on that one.
On another note, I picked up a book from the charity shop today. Haven’t had a chance to take a photo of it for here yet, though, so I’ll exhibit it tomorrow instead. It is not the type of book I ever expected to buy, and I really can’t see myself enjoying it, but I’m going to try to approach it with an open mind.
I didn’t make it to a charity shop today to buy a book, as per yesterday’s blog post. I did, however, make some hefty progress on the problematic book two of my series, so I’m happy enough regardless, and stuff the rest of you.
Tomorrow I will go and buy my non-familiar-genre, second-hand novel. Tonight, I will go to Tesco and buy cheese, because we’ve run out. Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to go into this post, I was just thinking out loud.
I’ve realised I haven’t given you any more updates on the progress of Gangrene. That’s because there aren’t really any updates to give. It’s still being inked and coloured. Then it has to be lettered. Then it has to be licked by elves. Just a little tradition of mine.
I watched Misery on TV last night. First time I’d ever seen it. Kathy Bates is one scary woman. I knew the bit with the hammer was coming, but Jesus, it looked painful. I actually felt sorry for James Caan - something I thought was impossible after once having to sit through 40 minutes of Mickey Blue Eyes.
Anyway, that’s yer lot for tonight. I have a lantern festival to attend.
Today, I had an idea. Not an idea that’s going to change the world or anything, but an idea I think is good all the same. Here it comes now.
I’m going to buy a book.
Bear with it, it gets more interesting.
I’m going to buy a book from a charity shop.
Huh? Huh? What, you want more? Okay, here’s the clincher:
I’m going to buy a book from a charity shop in a genre I wouldn’t normally read.
That shut you up, didn’t it? There was you thinking “Barry, you’ve lost your mind, what are you on about?” and now look at you. Sitting there agog, probably with your mouth hanging slightly open, as the sheer brilliance of my idea slowly sinks in.
Yes, tomorrow I’m going to go to a charity shop, and I’m going to buy a book which I would not normally even think about purchasing. And then I’m going to read it, otherwise the whole exercise would be largely pointless.
The way I see it is this:
1) I’m doing something for charity
2) I’m getting a book cheap
3) I’m stepping outside my literary comfort zone, and opening myself to potentially a whole new world of reading adventure.
also, 4) I’m getting out of the house and having actual interaction with another human being who isn’t a member of my immediate family.
I don’t work Sundays. Not for any religious reasons or owt, just because I’ve promised myself one day off a week. So not blog posting today. Except this one.
I popped into my local bookshop today and took the photo below. Everyone present looked at me like I was a maniac. You’d think they’d never seen an unshaven man take a photograph of a child’s book before.
Today is a historic day. (Notice I didn’t write an historic day like some people do? That’s because the letter H is many things, but one of the things it is very much not is a vowel. Some people would do well to remember that fact).
Anyway, today is a historic day. Today, the United States will vote in their 44th President, and there’s a very good chance he’s going to be black. For many reasons, I hope Obama wins. The most minor of these reasons is the colour of his skin. I think it’d be a testament for how far racial equality has come if Obama became the most powerful man on the planet.
More importantly, though, I think he’d make the better President. I also admire the fact he hasn’t really resorted to the same mud-slinging the McCain camp has used in the run-up to the election. And he’s a fan of Superman. That wins my vote any time, because a fan of Superman is by default a fan of Truth and Justice. It also means we could chat about comics if we ever found ourselves stuck in a lift together.
Anyway, what better way to commemorate the importance of the US Presidential Election, than by posting a video of Skeletor and Evil Lyn singing Meatloaf’s Dead Ringer for Love? If there’s a more appropriate way of marking the occasion, I’ve yet to hear it.
I made this video clip a couple of years back for my old Random Rant website. It’s high time it got another airing.
The blog seems to have been a bit lacking in posts lately, so I’m setting myself a challenge. For the month of November I will be writing at least one new post every day. I’ll say that again in bold for the visually impaired: A new post every day!
Now I’m making no guarantees on the quality or length of the posts. They might be two lines, they might be a thousand. They might be witty and interesting, they might be me going “mmmmmeh mmmmeh mmmmeh k-tish!” over and over again until you wish you were dead, but they will be posts, and they will be appearing every day. That’s all I can promise at this stage.
And then we come to Eoghan, the cheeky 16 year old scamp from Northern Ireland. I don’t like Eoghan for three reasons:
