The lost art of losing.

I thought of this topic a while back, around the beginning of October, but like anything at the min, I have to find inspiration.. Sometimes it hits me at odd times and the inclination has to be followed.

So losing, being a loser in life at times, I can comprehend the art of it, and acceptance plays a big part.  As a kid I wasn't blessed with great athlectic ability or anything of merit, except the willingness to try hard and do the best I can, which has stuck with me.

These days some of my best is apparently great, but I don't really like praise, as in such a fast moving world, it sounds hollow, my prerogative is, if you can do it, it's not worthy of praise.

It's like people calling me a star and mentioning how great I am for doing such a task.. Hollow once it's been said.. But I know this is just me, I don't like getting things wrong and also I see it as a challenge to overcome.. As if I don't managed or achieve it, it irks me for ages.. Like tonight I've forgot to be somewhere.  Whether this is a product of the week, that I have forgotten what day and date it was.. It's irritating that I've failed in this endeavour, there is nothing I can do about this of course, but my brain won't accept that for a few hours or perhaps a week.

But enough about me, what of the adults of the future.. The kids of today... Self needy, shallow and all in all the inheritors of the earth.

What made me think about the topic, even though it was in the swirl of my mind anyway, was a child at a recent party...

A lot of times I've let some comments just dissolve into the ether, but the odd ones stick, like a bit of cling film...

What this particular child said was 'but I've not had a turn/won'... During a game of pass the parcel.
Back in my day, the joy of just getting to rip off one layer of paper was enough, now though, there is a small prize in each layer and enough layers for each kid.

It's scares me that this is encouraged, everyone has to win... Nobody loses.. But they lose even more because they are not learning about losing, building them up with a fake confidence and unreal bravado.

I'm all for praising a child on it's achievements and encouraging them to be better, try harder and be good, punish them when they do wrong, but it seems my feelings on this are some what draconian... As I do think a slap on the legs or backside, is a suitable, remember able thing to do.  As it makes anyone think.. I'll not do that again.  Talking may work in some instances, but I also do believe a threat is enough and a very last resort would I use a slap.

Now though we are surrounded by the stupid, after all this hollow praise and lack of any kind of losing or punishment, they've made them feel invincible and untouchable and a complete lack of respect for other people.... Claiming money constantly for their own mistakes, turning the human race into a human destination, a frightening prospect made real.  It's seen in schools, by the police and by the parents, their little darlings have turned into shits, or on tv.. X-factor for sure has contributed in bringing and creating more idiots in society.

Yes I know I maybe being a bit harsh, but after so many years of all this pc nonsense, it starting to erode society like a high grade sandpaper, whittling it away till society consists of a people who can't tie their own shoes and need to have an instruction mannual for a hammer.

Other people are beginning to see it too.. And in the harshes terms have mentioned we need a new plague... To rid us of idiots and thugs.

Unfortunately this will continue for a while.. proved by a couple I know... their child stands no chance of breaking the cycle.

Kids can't lose ... only the world..

The boredom beard.

What is the boredom beard?

What you think a beard will look like..

Well I can just about answer that.. in the first instant, I'm not the best for growing facial hair... took me till I was over 21, to have something to actually shave off.. and my monthly growth still only looks like less than a week on a normal person..

My boredom beard has made an appearance before, but not as long as it has this time..

I tend to grow it when basically I'm bored with everything, life, friends, car, job, shaving and breathing... absolutely everything.. this kind of boredom starts when all you have to get up for each day is your job.. and that's it..

I could entertain myself for a little while but I can't lose myself in a fictional world, cause the trip back to reality is ever that harder...

What it really looks like!

Now everyone has times when they are down, mine can hit me hard... (See blog chasing the white whale..)

The first time it came about was about 10 years ago... again I was stuck slightly in a rut..
I'd just come back from abroad and was living in a flat with my mate, who at the time also just needed me to help pay the rent and treated me in such away at times too

He was going through his own issues, but got very selfish at times about them... never really seeing my side....

I must admit there was some good times and I remember both.

The flat we were in was a downstairs apartment on a newly built/unfinished apartment block (still wasn't finished over a year later), the previous tennants, had made the place reek of curry, which always hung around... and in what became my room, due to the acoustics of the whole building, I could hear the tennant 2 floors above taking a wee, right next to my head... how loud it was made me imagine he was about eleven foot high.. aiming from such a height made it as loud as it was on any given morning.. and grant him he was very regular..

But this was not the only problem, a spate of abandoned cars appeared in the carpark, which chavs and skallies used to drive about in and they regularly smoked right next to my window...

So being between jobs I was in most of the day, some change coming from visiting the deli on the corner for a coffee and a read and to get a smile from the lovely Lizze.. whose face escapes me now..

So in total there wasn't much going on and I was at one of my lowest points in my adult life..

But in this dark arena which was my life.. a light was soon to appear.. in the form of an internet relationship... that modern version of romance..

It all began from staying up late, since my day didn't have much in it... and all generally went swimmingly, apart from the times someone was selfish and I lost internet connection...

So soon after this the first boredom beard was cast from my face.. and flushed down the drain..

But 10 years later here I am with a hairy face.. it does distract me from my annoyance and vague unhappiness, which fills my day...only there is no light in the darkened arena this time, everything now is just done because of routine...

Whether I have reach the natural point in life where things should be full of family and kid things..
(I still have parents and my sister and niece and nephew)  but being neither married or a father and mostly having only my own company... I think the situation doesn't know what to do.. and just becomes a void..

Everything is mixed and mashed up... I've not really had a clear feeling in a while.. mostly they have blended together, so routine can continue and appear normal.. A friend actually suggested drugs to help take the edge off a bit back...

What my future holds?

I'm lost in my hopelessness unable to change my situation.. because I don't have the knowledge too either... a catch 22!... but the beard helps normalize things a little.. but without anything clear..

How long will the beard remain?...

Let the looting of memories of yesterday commece part 2

So here comes part 2, hopefully with a bit more flourish than the first.

As I take my seat in the second tier of the gods, my experience has already commenced, in the choosing of my seat.  I find it quickly.. No chance of being blocked by someone in front...and probably the best one for the acoustics also.. 

All the seats share only one thing, they are all covered in a formerly plush red material and spring sprung. This helps in making it squeaky and seemly alive, as you wiggle to get comfortable..

So I spread out into the two seats next too me, whilst watching everyone else enter.

The film tonight is a classic, well to me it is 'Raiders of the lost ark', so the audience is quite varied, families, couples and a smattering of geeks, likes myself.

The beginning, unlike it's more commercial larger sibling, it's more of a sedate affair.  There are adverts for upcoming movies, products they claim you should own, even though you don't need them and it's own set of adverts, for plays, local amateur film shows..and unusually this time, considering the audience having children in it, the previews were quite gory.. Filled with my favourite other movie thing zombies... But after this is where the usual is broken...

The lights dim, the curtains open, open the Revels and flick open the can of pop... so rather than a quick blur into the feature film, a classic Pathe news comes on screen..Straight from yesteryear, something topical and informative of the time.

I love these things, coming from an century just past, one where more discoveries and knowledge had been achieved than ever before.  Having experience the pleasure of the Plaza before, I knew this was norm here.

So on screen a large than life magicians assistant appears sat on a golden chicken, looking quite saucy and alluring, winking at you just before filling your brain with something fun....

So what piece of past is share this time,

SCRAP SCRAP SCRAP!... The booming voice rings out...

'Once the pride and joy of someone, or a showroom model, they have lost their shine, no longer the gleaming brand new model...... They have taken final journey to here!...'

And so begins the information download and visual feast, images of cars burnt, broken and being crushed in big machines, with burly looking men hitting them with sledge hammers, crow bars, breaking the cars apart, all for their metal to be reused.

Reused into what the brain asks... 

'possibly the metal could make these matchbox cars'.. Booms the voice..and so begins a short story on matchbox cars...

MATCHBOX CARS

Click to watch...

I've always had an connection to matchbox cars, due to my father, who has collected them for years, (possibly where  I get my collecting or hoarding gene from).  But back to the information.. The news carried on about the cars... Their gleaming small forms coming along the production line, but what is this, the car in front of me is the very first matchbox my father bought, he can recalled where it was and when, and no doubt will tell his grandchildren (if I ever have chance)... With my eyes and attention on firmly on the screen.. I absorb more info...

What's the next info blast?.... Look at these ...SWORDS...booms the voice... 

'This is not a medieval times.. So what is this facination with these ancient weapons of war?'

Cut to a suited man admiring his shiny sword...and many more on his wall.

How did it go from toy cars to swords?... Tenuous link that both are collected as a hobby...

So now the info rolls on.. Showing how the are cast.. Shaped and made.. Now it has to go into hot molten lead.... Cut to a man, in a brown overcoat, one like I used to wear in CDT in school, and bare hands... No health and safety bollocks in back in this day... Splashing the part made sword into the boiling hot lead, his hands blackened and huge dirty finger nails clasping the blade... 

Then cut to further scenes of polishing, painting and adding the ornate handle... Again the voice booms out, about the skills to finish the sword, cut back to the suited man and his armoury .. These will bring joy for years... Fade to black..

Then back to the sexy magicians assistant.. And the end of the Pathe news.. Lights on curtains close..

This is why it's so much better than a bigger cinema..the use of an old Pathe  news complements the wonder and helps the excitement build, by containing something personal to me or anyone else present...along with it's use of an authorities voice and what topics it discusses and blends together..

Bringing a random piece of nostalgia into the new century..Showing when great was in front of Britain. 

Is this what the bigger brother lacks?, this friendliness or sense of belonging like this show is just for you....or is it because you're not herded in with your over priced popcorn and sweaty hotdog, then left forgotten in the dark till the end?

But back to the Plaza..

So what now... 

Albatross, get your albatross..

Up step a couple of the volunteers and stand at the front and selling ice cream, from a tray around their necks... And the Wurlitzer raises again...

Show tunes are given the Wurlitzer treatment again in this interval, the familiar Jurassic Park theme music fills the ears... Ironical it sounds like most John Williams compositions..

But then begins the anthem... The one my head hears when i'm ever exploring or having an adventure...The Indy Jones tune... With this the ice creams sellers disappear and the Wurlitzer signs off to a triumphant finish and disappears again to a round of applause..

Now when do things like this happen in the larger cinemas?... It did happen once in 1999.. At the premier of Starwars episode 1...

Which is probably the last time I was more than just excited to see the film, the atmosphere was charged, but the Plaza manages to do it with every film, with it's unique take... It doesn't just act like a souless big Tv screen.. 

From there on in I'm immersed in one of my most favourtie movies, seeing all the mistakes and gaff's (easier to see on the large screen), wanting to be this adventurer, beating and outsmarting not just all evil doers, the most evil of the lot the nazi's....and getting the girl...

Then the final shot of the ark being pushed into a large warehouse.. Not just any warehouse, a glass painting.. The painting of which is one of the amazing skills now lost to the digital age.. (I know a lot about these films and their special effects).

So after all the fun had been had, the credits roll... But one more thing at the end of the performance you have to stand for the Queen...

The national anthem plays out to the image of lots of mounted guards and then a picture of the queen in her younger days, sat admiring the guards with a smile on her young face..

And with that it' good night mam'...god bless her..!

The end... But not for the Plaza... The Shining is next.. Red rum.. Here's Johnny!

Let the looting of memories of yesterday commece.

Well it's been a while since anything has made me want to write, but here goes...(and also blogger now works on an iPad)

What has made me want to blog, a simple trip to the cinema, not any cinema, but a proper cinema.

One where the sense of wonder and awe has not been lost to the over packed and over priced 'front room'.

The place is The Plaza in Stockport.  Built in the 1930's and one of the only surviving cinemas of it's kind.

I'd been before and kind of knew what experience awaited. What made me think this time, I was alone and having recently been to the 'big local cinema' to see a film I wanted to see on my own also, I compared the differences.

The big cinema, walk in through automatic doors, pay at the till, all the workers dressing in bright colours and dark pants, up the escalator, over priced food, then into the cavernous room, comfortable seats, which you could fall asleep in, sticky floor, film, end then leave.  But stuck in the carpark, due to ignorance and foolish people.

Mostly a soulless experience

The Plaza experience is completely different.

Firstly I can walk freely to the Plaza, as being built in the age it was access was only by foot or bus to the town centre.

Drawing close, you can see the top over the A6, it's neon green and red, bright in the sky atop of one of the tallest building around (unfortunately at the min the z and a are broken, but it doesn't dull the experience, I nearly walked in front of a bus in my eagerness to get there).

It's not a faceless building, like it's newer sibling, it stands tall and white, containing it's wonder and glory.  The whole design drips in nostalgia and beauty of one of the beautiful ages of man, that of art deco.

The wooden, glass door, angled and etch simply to form a piece of art itself, the shiny furniture sparkling from every edge, then it is opened by a man dress in a black suit and bow tie, greeting you with a friendly 'good evening'.  The lobby is dressed in wood panelling, the old box office, like a big fish tank in the middle, two sets of beautiful doors lead off from the left and right.
The small gathering point has more contains  double doors into the lower seats, the right side a small confectionery counter, which is manned by more smartly dress people and reasonably priced too.

From here you can go to the gods, the stairs seem to go up and up, never ending, one thing that would add to the experience, classic movie posters, at the top another suited and booted volunteer takes your ticket and guides you to the auditorium.  Once the seal is broken, the sound of the Wurlitzer fills the air and round the next corner you enter the lavishly decorated cavern, the the endless stairs have brought you too.

The interior opens out, like a cave, immersing you in neon light, architecture and show tunes on the Wurlitzer, a glory to all senses... Let the show commence...

Onward to part 2.... (When it's done)..

A haunted man... The white whale.

So I'm still haunted by the past, I've been thinking of lines for this for a while, forgotten more than I can remember and having not blogged in a while, I seem to have lost something this year the inclination to do things and care, everything else seemly done on automatic pilot.

The only thing that has been constant is my feelings for her, my white whale.

Originally classed as a feeling that wouldn't last in it's initial months of gestation and clumsy exploration, it still wakes up with me, sometimes choosing to invade my dreams as if it's not had enough attention or time during my day. The feeling like a ghost haunting everything, making me shiver, more so when my mind pictures too much and remembers clearly, each memory having an annoying clarity.

I wish she had been right and that the feelings wouldn't last... But she wasn't.. I wish I could be like her and just drop the feelings... Cast them to a far off dusty corner to old raise up in old age, remembering good times... But for some reason I can't.. So time after time everything has to be herded and attempted to be shoved into the back of my mind, but all to regularly it floods to the front..

I've tried to pursue a couple of others recently, the first a bit younger than me, happily lead me up the garden path.. Much to the amusement of all, who gradually believed.. Like me something between us was going to happen...but abruptly it stopped.. Herself admitting she was seeing someone.. But after a recent conversation.. He too had treated her like crap, enamoured by a younger person paying attention to them, while he had got bored with his pregnant girlfriend, a proper scumbag.

The next was a real beauty, who at times seems to read my mind, we slowly connected well and at her 30th she choose too be dressed as my all time crush.. And at the said party, she sat on my knee, the warmth of her that close.. made my heart flutter and the words to cascade from my lips to make no sense... I was under the impression that maybe soon it would be time to ask her out... but alas that seems to have gone the way of the rest... A chance encounter with the only available male at her works on a Xmas doo... And wham bam my months of preparation down the swannie....

So now a bit has past since the first bit was written, best part of a year, have thinks change or not...

Unfortunately not..

I got lead up the garden path again by the younger woman, taken up to the point of first blush, only to be stopped full throttle on the tracks.. her cruel manner finally surfacing in full glare, taunting an already shattered heart.  The woman's party I attended is still searching for someone, after dropping the guy for being a bit thick and dull... But he was nice enough.. and she is still as beautiful.

And through all this, not matter what is tried, the thoughts of the white whale persist... the only constant.

I hoped by now for me, a modicum of clarity would have appeared in the emotion fog, the years gathering behind me, hoping to learn more, but for all my efforts I'm still in the harbour of teenage angst, cast every now and then far far out into the emotional sea, but my prize constantly sighted, chased, real but forever out of reach.

Of late I've tried to get in contact with her, just to get the biggest thing I miss, our friendship, back a little bit, but I get scuttled, either by the saddest and negative word in the English language...No or ignored, like a whisper in a gale... But to add extra salt to the open wound, someone else will ask the same question and get the simple answer I asked for.

You think this should tip the boat over into the dark grasp of the emotional sea or send it casting on to the rocks of clarity... Allowing a new journey to start..

But no, I'm still chasing the white whale... Probably till the day I die.