Kate Solomon

Last night I went to see a band*.

Well, that’s a bit generous – what I actually saw was a lot of people’s backs, a host of phones and cameras waving about in the air and a rip-roaring light show. In the absence of being able to see anything worth looking at I spent some time analysing the ceiling of the venue, turning to my boyfriend, Matt, at one point to say, “Look, someone’s left a folder up on that netting!” Kind soul that he is, he dutifully looked up and “enjoyed” the moment with me but I could tell there was pity behind his smiling eyes. Pity, and a desire for me to shut up so he could enjoy the actual show.

I saw more of the performers through the digital cameras people held up than by standing on my tippiest toes. On our way home later that night, Matt casually mentioned that there had been two drummers. Oh right. Two drummers, you say. Who knew?

Like most short people, I also possess the uncanny ability to stand just one or two feet behind the place where the two tallest people in the venue will eventually choose to position themselves. And do you know what? They do not take kindly to being tapped on the shoulder and asked if they’d mind just shuffling slightly to the left. Tall people – guys! – cut us some slack here.

Once at a particularly crowded show, a man literally walked into me, looked down in surprise and then said, “Oh! Sorry. But you are very short.” Yes, yes – apologies. My fault entirely – after all, I did have the option of being tall and rejected it because I felt I would better identify with Frodo Baggins this way. I get so much more out of the Lord of the Rings than you.

And, as if all this wasn’t enough, the merch never ever ever fits. Doesn’t bother me so much now, but there was a time when I wanted to wear my musical heart on my sleeve so you could see how fabulously obscure the bands I liked were. I had to make do with baggy t-shirts acceptable only as pyjamas. That impressed no one.

So, in conclusion, being short is rubbish. Next week: a rant about why short people should get a discount on trousers.

–

*It wasn’t The Rocket Summer, by the way. The image is from ineffable_pulchritude on Flickr, nothing to do with me.

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I’ve forgotten almost everything from when I was a kid – when, how and why did this happen? I must not have been paying enough attention or something, because I can only remember about a day’s worth of stuff from the first sixteen years of my life. And what made me realise this?

Shameful. Thank goodness there are internet-types to remember things like the Little Professor, track them down and re-purpose them as novelty geek-bait for me – well, for me if I’m willing to part with thirty of my hard-earned pounds. Which I’m not.

But still, it’s one less black spot in my mind. Ah, nostalgia.

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You’re a vampire Michael! My own brother a goddamn, shit-sucking vampire. You wait til mom finds out, buddy.

RIP Corey Haim. I feel bad on behalf of everyone expressing grief at your passing who didn’t give two hoots about what you did when you were alive. Me included. Sorry.

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1. Sitting in front of a mirror for an hour

Honestly, if I wanted to make myself puke I’d just stick my fingers down my throat. It’s more humane than making me deconstruct my appearance and all its flaws over the course of an hour, with increasingly ridiculous hair and someone irritatingly good looking flitting in and out of the reflection.

2. Being too short for the appliances

It’s not just the humiliating half hour spent jacking the seat up to its highest point, it’s also the dull ache in my neck after straining to get my head over the sink rest.

3. Hate-hate-hating the haircut but saying you like it

My very inconvenient personality flaw that renders me incapable of saying anything negative to anyone in a position of power means that when the hairdresser shows me the back of my head into which they’ve painstakingly shorn a lightning bolt, I’ll say I love it, pay my fifty hard-earned pounds then go home to cry myself to sleep.

4. Being given a cup of tea but not being able to actually drink it because you’re too nervous to move

Aforementioned personality flaw extends to unauthorised movement whilst in the chair of submission.

5. Paying so much money

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know it’s a skilled profession and there’s no way I’d do even a passable job of cutting anyone’s hair; but since when does every hairdresser in the world get to charge the best part of £50 for a trim? This is why I have to live through the sharp intake of breath every time I visit the hairdresser and answer their suspicious ‘When was the last time you had it cut then?’

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I’m on a cinema diet. It’s budget-imposed and is particularly difficult as it has come at a time when there’s a ridiculous number of films I’d love to see.

A Single Man – partly because it gives me hope that one day, when I’m wealthy and successful for something else entirely, I’ll be able to turn around and say, “Yeah, now I’m going to make a film” and for it not to be a horrible, horrible failure. Partly because it’ll be so stylish it’ll make me feel as though I’m stylish just for going to see it. Partly because I want to see Colin Firth do something that’s worth seeing. But mainly because I love Julianne Moore, who I’ve loved since Benny and Joon. Who am I kidding, I love everyone in Benny and Joon.

Crazy Heart – It stars Jeff Bridges and Maggie Gyllenhaal. What’s not to love? Also, I’m a sucker for a good washed-up-musician-based story.

Exit Through the Gift Shop – I’m a bit over Banksy but I’m intrigued by his foray into film making. I have no real clue what the film is about, whether it’ll make sense or if it’d be worth my hard earned cash to see it at the cinema. But if nothing else, I have a feeling it would make me laugh.

Precious -  I know it will make me weep like a child and I think that’s why I want to see it. I’d also like to see what Mariah Carey’s got to offer – don’t you just love it when pop star divas agree to ugly-down for a role? “Look how serious I am, I’m pretending to be unattractive for god’s sake!”

Shutter Island – The trailer for Shutter Island did the rounds a good few months ago, back when it was slated for release before Christmas ‘09. When I saw the trailer on the big screen, it looked like such a dark and gripping period film that I’ve been waiting impatiently for its release ever since. Finally – FINALLY – it’s out on March 12th. I also think Leonardo DiCaprio is one of the best actors of his generation. If you want to dispute that, I’ll point you in the direction of What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? thank you very much.

Un prophète – I haven’t heard much about Un prophète, but what I have heard has been accolade after accolade from people whose film-based opinions I have actual respect for.

The Princess and the Frog - just to see how Disney did.

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So somebody somewhere woke up to the fact that Tobey Maguire is awful and the entire Spiderman franchise has been ruined by his sloppy face and rubbish acting. In the absence of a time machine to go back and wipe the whole unfortunate incident out, they’re just giving it another go by ‘rebooting’ the franchise. So far so yawn, right?

Someone else somewhere else (aka Jeff Loveness) dared to dream of a world where Wes Anderson turns his considerable skill at making the same brilliant film with the same brilliant actors over and over again to the web-happy superhero and this video was the happy result:

via slashfilm

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There are 125 rare, unlikely and occasionally brilliant photos of the crazy-famous here. Here are five that make me feel like it’s ok just to be a normal person.

Marilyn Monroe and JFK share a moment – I feel so sad for Marilyn Monroe every time I think about their doomed affair. Just goes to show that you can have everything and nothing all at once.

George Clooney – Let’s file this one under ‘there’s hope for us all’.

Johnny Depp and his niece at the beach – Johnny Depp has the most amazing hands I’ve ever seen. Also, gutted to be his niece and it not be acceptable to fancy him.

Francis Ford Coppola showing Akira Kurosawa his new Polaroid – what’s not to love about this photo? They’re these two wildly successful filmmakers but here they just look like your embarrassing dad showing his new camera off to his weird old Japanese friend.

The Star Wars cast – they don’t look anything like you expect them to. Apart from the swoon-worthy Harrison Ford, of course. Carrie Fisher looks ridiculously short! She’s 5′1″ apparently. Carrie: I feel your pain. But half an inch more of it. Damn you.

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Unborn children of mine take note: this is what your future holds.

I’d rather have the Lego version, to be honest.

Waterfall sink – like an infinity pool in your kitchen. Yes please.

As good a motto as any.

Finally, a use for all those old boring books I buy from library sales because they look nice but actually they’re rubbish. Happy day.

I just adore this AT-AT Walker inspired lamp, even though it’s completely ridiculous that the light lives in a drawer.

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I’m really irritatingly fussy about books. I have a really specific taste which I’ve never managed to verbalise properly, and can’t help but imagine all kinds of pretentions and arrogances in most novels which probably aren’t even there.

There are just two authors whose books I’ve enjoyed sufficiently to feverishly scan the shelves just in case they have a new novel out whenever I’m in a book shop. One is Glen David Gold, whose first novel Carter Beats The Devil was everything I’d never realised I wanted in a book. The other is Joshua Ferris, author of Then We Came To The End which was so perfectly pitched, so brilliantly written, so wonderfully amusing and so desperately appropriate that it instantly became my favourite novel.

So I’m falling over myself with excitement and counting down the days until February 25th, the day that his follow-up, The Unnamed, is out in paperback. I can’t imagine anything harder than penning a follow-up to a successful debut (well, apart from writing a successful debut) but I have faith.

Here’s the synopsis from Penguin’s website:

Tim Farnsworth is a handsome, healthy man, ageing with the grace of a matinée idol. He loves his work. He loves his family. He loves his kitchen. And then one day he stands up and walks out on all of it. He cannot stop walking. And, as his body propels him relentlessly forward, deep into the unfamiliar outer reaches of the city, he begins to realise he is moving further and further from his old self, seemingly unable to turn back and retrieve what he has lost.

In his extraordinary novel Joshua Ferris delineates with great tenderness and a rare and inimitable wit the devastating story of a life taken for granted and what happens when that life is torn away without explanation or warning. The Unnamed is no less than a shimmering reflection of our times, of the lives we aspire to and the terrifying realisation of what is beyond our control.

Can’t. Wait.

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Hey, Banksy made a film! Called Exit Through the Gift Shop, he describes it as “the story of how one man set out to film the unfilmable – and failed… It’s a film about a man who tried to make a film about me. Everything in it is true, especially the bits where we all lie.” So now you know.

The 85 minute long film is debuting at Sundance tomorrow, and will be out in cinemas in Spring.

I’m intrigued. Check out the website for literally no further information.

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