stories

The thought occurs that, in four posts, I’ve yet to really tell a story about where I live; this pattern looks to continue a little longer, as I’m not about to tell one now. This is about London, which, to be fair, is where I was born – but London is massive so that’s not really saying much either.

ANYWAY. I have a friend called Stu, who happens to know a rather excellent and well-renowned British illustrator called Jon Burgerman, who happened to have submitted something for The Vader Project, an exhibition of customised Darth Vader helmets on display at the Star Wars 30th Anniversay Celebration last weekend, and, as it happened, couldn’t attend (check out my three-hit happen-derivative combo! BISH BASH BOSH). So he gave Stu his free tickets. So Stu and his friend Whisk and I went to London, to gawp at Star Wars stuff.

Perhaps you would like to see some photographs?

The rest of the show was essentially a massive toy fair/autograph opportunity; we did not take advantage of the latter, as you had to queue for ages, and then pay for the autographs. It would’ve been nice to meet Anthony Daniels and/or had the opportunity to smack George Lucas with a rolled-up newspaper, naughty wee pup so he is, but not for money. OK, I probably would pay money to smack George Lucas with a rolled-up newspaper, but I was on a tight budget and driving from Nottingham to London costs a lot in petrol.

Also, cosplayers! I normally regard these people with a degree of suspicion – one not entirely allayed by the numerous Fat Leias kicking about the exhibition centre – but seeing entire squads of Imperial Stormtroopers marching around in formation, occassionally popping outside for a smoke, was magic. Hordes of young children in Jedi costumes, chasing each other around with plastic lightsabers, shouting and battling Just Like In That Bit In The Film. Twi’lek slave girls queuing up for noodles next to Mandalorians and maybe a couple of Sith Lords. No Elvis Trooper, sadly, but I guess he doesn’t travel outside the US much.

STAR WARS

This isn’t really a complain-o-blog place, I know, but it’s come to my attention that I’m going to be missing a lot of good music this summer.  I was too slow off the mark to get myself a Glastonbury ticket (meaning I logged on to the website at 00:02 rather than making my first attempt twenty minutes before they actually went on sale – seriously, acquiring Glasto tickets is an adventure in its own right) and too skint to get a Leeds pass before they sell out, which amounts to the two big rock festivals down the tubes. I might be able to swing an O2 ticket but it’s hardly premier-league stuff; the atmosphere’s worse even than the notoriously commercial hellishness of Leeds, and I ain’t of any temper to spend £40 per day to see four good bands total.

This is a game I started playing about four years ago to help decide whether Leeds was worth going to anymore. Lineups have got increasingly awful (well, more likely my tastes have got better, but never mind) and ticket prices have skyrocketed, so since 2003 I’ve habitually divided the number of worthwhile acts on the lineup by the cost of a ticket, plus food, beer, camping, beer and sundries. I count five bands I’d go out of my way to see this year (LCD Soundsystem, CSS, Gogol Bordello – who I’ve seen before – Eagles of Death Metal and Biffy Clyro), and three-days passes are £145, plus booking fee, plus beer money etc. It does not add up to an inviting prospect.

But then I remember how much fun I’ve had at past festivals, and how there’s always something fun to look at or do when there aren’t any good bands on, and I chide myself for being so…well, so old, really, to divide something like that down into how much bang I’m getting for my buck. It’s not as if I give a shit about Glastonbury’s lineup, which, as is tradition, isn’t even announced for another few days yet, as will likely have a comparable amount of audio dogshit to Leeds’ dismal main stage. I had a real good conclusion in mind when I started this post, I swear, but all I got now is “I miss going to festivals, and am going to miss all the good ones this year. Again.”

I’m going to take a moment to talk about a friend of mine, who we’ll call Johnny (because his parents did)

Johnny’s at university now, so neither I nor my York-bound buddies see much of him, but even before he went off he was the kind of guy who’d drop off everyone’s social radar for months at a time, only to re-emerge for a week or so with some terrifying new device to show off. You see, Johnny likes building machines, and Johnny likes to see what kind of trouble he can cause with household or otherwise easily obtained materials, so Johnny builds a lot of weapons. In his shed. Just for laughs.

His personal armoury, to the best of my recollection, includes: three air cannons, one of which is capable of driving a carrot through a wooden fence at a distance of several feet; a flamethrower that he built for a mutual friend; a jet engine (“it doesn’t get a lot of thrust but it is quite pretty,” he says) and, terrifyingly, a microwave cannon. I saw him down the pub on Saturday after finishing my shift (he was back in York for the Easter holidays; I think he’s probably gone back now) and he told me that he’s banned from one of the labs at university after a professor caught him amidst some potentially terrifying experiments with lasers (I’d had an amount to drink, but he was saying something about using electromagenetic fields to somehow intensify commercially-available laser pointers? I forget). He said something about modifying a nailgun at one point, I think, to increase its range and accuracy.

He’s a laugh and a half and generally polite and friendly but holy shit I am glad we are not enemies.

Hey everyone, I finally bothered to get off my ass and get my comics their own website.

I have joined 1998 kicking and screaming! It is a proud day on the internets for the six people who read my cartoon. It is located here. Please check it out and bask in how awful it is.

So…I have an audition in just under a month that requires a “short folk/alt. rock song”. Now, I have a fairly wide-ranging repertoire, but nothing that quite qualifies as folk or alt rock. So I’m asking you, the faithful Jethica.com blog readers for suggestions. I’d like something ideally that will be a bit unique and not performed 80 other times at the auditions, but not something so out there that the auditors are totally unfamiliar with it. Give me a suggestion that gets me booked and I promise I’ll give you a shout-out in my bio!

Four women who work in my office (all in their twenties and doing the same job as me) have spent, I swear to god, the last eleven minutes standing in a circle ten feet away from me talking about manicures.

Does anyone out there speak/write Russian? I need some assistance with a gift for a friend. I figure all the smart people who frequent this site must have some KGB connections or a pal in the Kremlin.

Thanks in advance for the help!

In an effort to do new and productive things with my free time, I’ve decided to pursue some hobbies. Grad school doesn’t allow for a lot of leisure hours, but summer rapidly approaches and anything has to be better than what I do now. (“What I do now” is obsess over unrequited love. I’m good times!)

So, here’s what’s on the docket:

1) Playing my guitar. I took guitar lessons for a while when I lived in New York. I could play something that kind of sounded like a sloppy version of Positively Fourth Street by Bob Dylan. I haven’t actually picked up my guitar in over a year, but am hoping it will all come rushing back to me. I would also like to learn how to read tabs. They confound me.

2) Running. I’m lazy. No joke, I’m really lazy. I’m also out of shape. I get winded carrying in my groceries from the car. I’ve never been an athlete. When I was in 7th grade, I played on a basketball team and only scored one basket and one foul shot all season. At the end of the year, I got Most Improved Player. That is sad. To rectify this sorry state of affairs, I have decided to train for a marathon. I bought two books on the subject and am going to develop an awesome training plan. I tell you this now, so that I can’t back out of it later. I need external motivation. I may also need some massages.

3) ?????? There’s room for something here, but I don’t know what it is. I am taking all feedback and suggestions. Sure, many of you don’t know me, but that may lead some exciting new adventure on my part. In exchange, I will send you plenty of suggestions for things you can do with your life. And, go!

Sometimes, words are not enough.
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I have never so thoroughly needed a button-maker.

(Creators: Clara, Chris, Patrick, Emily, Roman, Jesse, Turing, Drew, and myself.)

There have been rumors that I had quit the blog before I even began. Pshaw, I say; I ain’t no quitter! With that out of the way, here is where things get heavy: I’m an addict. I don’t use daily; just Tuesday, Wednesday, and sometimes Thursday evenings. I spend the next morning thinking about the prior evening, playing it out in my head over and over. I talk about it with friends, read websites & blogs dedicated to it, and even am a member of a group as addicted as I am.

At this point you must be wondering what horribly sinful substance has me so deeply under her dark spell. I’m here to admit for the first time, that I am addicted to…..Idol.

 Yes, that lame Fox television show rules my life for the some 2-odd hours it airs each week. I’m involved in a “pool” at my office, a “Fantasy Idol” of sorts. Each week we wager points on who is getting the boot, with the big winner at the end winning hundreds of dollars. I’m an out & proud Kelly Clarkson fan, and won’t deny it to anyone who asks.

I take comfort in knowing that I’m not alone in my struggle. Recent figures say that nearly 30 million Americans are affected with Idolitis, though it’s a fairly safe bet that most of them are midwestern (Sorry Rach, you know I love ya!) soccer moms, middle-school aged ‘tweens, and scary men whose favorite shows are Idol & Dateline: To Catch A Predator. Either way, I have taken the first step and it feels freeing. My name is Joshua, and I’m addicted to Idol.