Shouting while you are Dancing on the Dancefloor

It's that time of the week again, that time past 4pm. It's the hour of the Attack, the hour bad music/good music travels into my kitchen. You guessed it right: I'm listening to Attack of the 80s while doing LJ. So far, only cak. But that's ok, it kinda sums up the 80s. Mostly shit, with a few glimpses of genius. In another life I could have been hooked on gambling. How else explain my desire to sit here, through the terrible thick and the sadly thin, only for that one Elvis Costello song, or that other forgotten Smiths single? Yeah, whatever comes too easy is no fun. While the good song plays, I feel happy, I feel justified and rewarded for being home alone & listening to the radio. And I tune out when Sting or Aerosmith, or some other atrocity pops its head up.

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Yesterday, after Kevin's comics convention, I met up with him and Joel (a friend of ours from Canada who is now doing his PhD here in England) outside the cinema in the Trocadero. We didn't know what we wanted to watch, but there is an indie film festival going on and we decided to take a chance with it. We saw Miranda, with Christina Ricci and the F.B.I. cop from Twin Peaks (Kyle something?).

The movie:

- starts with a Goldfrapp song (Human)
- is set in England and is okey
- has C.Ricci wearing white pyjamas with little green crocodiles
- doesn't know if it wants to be a comedy or thriller
- was attended by Film School types
- was followed by a Q&A with the producer, scriptwriter and 2 actors (nobody you know)
- was written by someone who is quite funny in real life