Whatever you is, be that*

After messing around for God knows how many years, making redundant political statements and another false start on what might have been a decent Roxy Music reunion, not to mention some truly shite collaborations and DJ remixes (we'll draw the curtain of charity across that last Groove Armada thing) I was happy to bury my BF fixation. But lo, bad video aside, this kicks it. Bryan Ferry's 'You Can Dance' samples 'True To Life' from Avalon (because great musicians always sample themselves) and shuffles along with a drunken gait that doesn't stretch the old fella. The video's lame - too many girls and the dancefloor is half-empty, but maybe that was the idea. Anyway. Did Not Make Me Sad. After the decade of fucking around since the under-appreciated Mamouna, that's saying something.

* Lightnin' Hopkins

Je me souviens

If you don't mind, I'm gonna pass out

Pictured: Natascha McElhone takes time out from the (La) Tribune crossword in Ronin. The (IH) Tribune crossword has been about all that has been distracting me as of late. I'm working on the new thing and it's screaming along in the way that some drafts do. The trick is not to question it, so I'm not. Hence the lack of posting. Apologies again to the two - no, three people who read this.

I'm using notebooks less. After filling several Moleskins with invaluable material - I keep going back to them - I've defaulted to a very cheap Muji notebook (90p in London) - A5 30 leaf (60pp). I've done so much research for this new thing that I have what I need in my head: I'm making almost no notes at all. The manuscript is the notebook now.

Can't watch movies, either. Can barely read. Work in progress. Ronin was on the other night though - I still love that.

Don Draper as Superman

At least according to the rumours. Do we want that? I'm thinking no. Jon Hamm as Draper is the anti-hero, the cheat in a suit, the urbane failure. We want him on that wall, we need him on that wall, like a lazy detective who can't be bothered with the case. I haven't even quite come to terms with Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner's decision to fast-forward the season's period settings, prematurely ageing and styling the cast. I want the characters to be stuck in same moment making the same mistakes over and over like a whiskey sour version of Last Year at Marienbad. The male cast are halfway there in their uniform suits and haircuts that make them look like astronauts. Bad choices, lies, more bad choices, Betty Draper as a bloodless icepick. What's not to like?

I've got more to write about this. But I just hit a good mark with the new ms and that's all that matters.

U got the look

Site under redesign, using the new Blogger templates. I was thinking the Courier font might not work but reading back over the screen I immediately spotted two typos so I'll probably stick with it. This will be news to the two and a half people who read this, and the one or two anons whose comments I've disabled. (Sorry about that, Chief: it's not so much a question of coping with criticism as being full to capacity.)

The best Courier font is Courier Final Draft, from the screenwriting application: it's tall and loopy, not unlike the IBM Selectric font designed by Adrian Frutiger. If I was rich I'd write on a Selectric; nothing beats that punch and click. I write in Courier on a lap top because it's the closest experience to working on a typewriter, which was what I grew up wanting to do. Stephen J. Cannell shares some of the blame.

I'm working on the new thing, reading about John Michael Hayes, and working on the new thing. The London weather has cooled, there is no news of any great thing or other, and the locals are gearing up for something they call 'the holidays', a tradition which has been outlawed in my home country. Fuck that, I'm going to be writing.

Now playing

The moving hand

After digging out my (UK) copy of Raymond Chandler Speaking to quote for the previous post (he liked cats) I started flicking through it, stopping at the many corners I'd folded down. On 5 Feb 1951 Chandler wrote to Hamish Hamilton*:

'I am not much interested in stories about Martians or 3000 A.D... The trouble with fantastic fiction as a general rule is the same trouble that affects Hungarian playwrights** - no third act. The idea and the situation resulting from the idea are fine; but what happens then? How do you turn the corner?'

This the point I was considering in my notes on Brian Clemens' screenplay for Dr Jekyll & Sister Hyde. By grafting Stevenson's stories on to the Whitechapel Murders, Clemens gave the original story a third act. To create his elixir of life Jekyll extracts hormones from female corpses. When the corpses run out, he hires corpse robbers (Burke & Hare) who provide an adequate supply. Jekyll's experimental elixir causes his transformation and subsequent addiction. Desperate for more, Jekyll discovers Burke & Hare have been caught, and must resort to killing his own victims. Jekyll becomes the Whitechapel murderer (the name Jack the Ripper is never mentioned) but is caught when he is betrayed by his own inner turmoil, transforming to Hyde at a fatal moment. Bada-bing: Stevenson's two-act novella becomes a three-act screenplay, with a subplot.

It's only a schlocky horror movie, but I really admire the craft behind that storyline.

* Obviously a fake name.

** Hungarian playwrights? No idea about that one. Also: he liked cats.