commonpeople1: (Avatar)
bus going by by patart00
bus going by, a photo by patart00 on Flickr.
On the way to work, hop on the No.8 on Roman Road and get off at Bethnal Green Tube station. Sit behind a man with a copy of The Sun. Sharon Osbourne on the front cover claiming Dannii Minogue had an affair with Simon Cowell. His thumb tentatively plays with the page; I can see a Page 3 breast poke through. The woman sitting beside him wears a yellow hijab.

After work, the No. 8 from Liverpool Street station because I just can't squeeze into the Central Line. All the windows facing North on Bethnal Green Rd are lit, open. Shirtless young men stalk front rooms. Young women hunch over laptops. Mixed students cook dinner together. Rooms jammed with clothes or completely sparse, just a few postcards bluetacked to the walls.

The young man sitting beside me holds his mobile phone up, trying to capture a good connection. He's on Grindr.
commonpeople1: (Sea)
Victoria Park, London 02/10/10

I was on my way to the gym this morning when a young man stepped out of a house ahead of me, also on his morning commute (I assumed.) Tall, skinny and very soon with a lit cigarette in his hands. I felt a little sad for him, like I always do when I see young people smoking.

Old Ford Road runs past Victoria Park. He crossed the street and took the path by the pond. I assumed he was heading towards the canal or north of the park. Then he swerved out of the park, back onto my sidewalk. It reminded me of when I was a smoker and I liked having a cigarette while playing a favourite song. I wonder what that brief walk by the pond as he smoked his cigarette brought to his day.
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I was having a drink last night with my brasilian friends Lila and Bia at the Haggerston when I noticed a guy dancing by the front door. I couldn't see his face (the pub was dark) but I got the hunch he was cute. The DJ was blasting soul & funk and the guy was animatedly dancing to it with his friends and having a good time. He danced quite well too.

Later, when he walked past our table after visiting the gents I realised it was Michael Fassbender. Cue five minutes of me trying to explain to Bia and Lila who he was, complete with descriptions of X Men and Shame, and the obligatory iPhone Google search.

A woman in the table next to ours leaned over and asked: "is that the certain Hollywood gent I think he is?"


She rubbed her face in surprise and shrunk back into her boyfriend. "He is THE number one... my number one star!"

Just then, Fassbender picked up his jacket and left with his friends. A search through Twitter informed me he'd been all afternoon in London Fields, causing a commotion with his naked torso. He joined some random BBQ with his friends and talked about chicken hearts (he likes them) with a brasilian girl who only clued in who he was once he'd left.

Other celebrities I've spotted since I've gone on annual leave: Boy George (as mentioned before) and Ulrika Jonsson window shopping for specs in Covent Garden (the shop where Johnny Depp usually buys his.)

This gorgeous sunny weekend also involved an unsuccessful trip to Old School Indie, a club night at the venue usually used for Feeling Gloomy (but still run by the same people.) The idea was apparently to do F.G. but with "happier" songs. It was complete rubbish. The DJ played Rolling Stones after The Cure, amongst other barbarities. Bob Dylan is apparently indie too. RUBBISH. And there was nobody there.

While everyone in London was celebrating the athletes parade this afternoon, my boyfriend and I were at the Tate Modern, enjoying the Edvard Munch exhibition.

It's a beautifully put together show on his life work, arranged thematically. I recommend you use the multi-media guide if you visit: it gives you really good commentary on key work as well as an overview of his life and the key historical events of the time.

Sadly, The Scream is not part of the show (maybe they were scared of another attempted theft?) And my only tiny criticism would be that Munch's photos and experiments with film are almost presented as worthy artistic pieces, whereas they are more like studies of themes he was interested in (self-portraits, ghostly bodies, and other things the moving camera made possible for artists at the turn of the 19th century.)

I forgot to mention another "celebrity" I spotted this weekend... Maeve from Dalston Superstars! She was working behind the counter at the Haggerston and she looked well tired. (Or was there a camera secretly following her around for Season 2?!)
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commonpeople1: (Default)
Voguing in NYC by MichelleMcCormack
Voguing in NYC, a photo by MichelleMcCormack on Flickr.
I get the feeling the next big flash-in-a-pan trend with (straight) hipsters will be voguing. I say straight because with the gays it's something that never really went away, even if only as a panto move you make in the club, encircled by your friends.

But the whole 80s house sound keeps getting re-explored by ever more artists on the wake of Hercules and Love Affair, to the point where i think that voguing is the only way kids can go these days with their dayglo and moustaches. There's even a book just out on voguing and the House Ballroom scene in NY in the 80s.

I had this thought about voguing last night at 2 Many DJs Xmas gig at Brixton Academy. They were accompanied by guests - the fantastic DJ Paul Chambers and some other nameless DJs - but, more interestingly for me, Azari & III, who I had never heard of and who I really took to. Essentially, they are two singers who sing very catchy house pop in the style of Hercules & Love Affair accompanied by a band/DJs. Oh look, they have an ace single coming out soon!

I was with [ profile] loveinsuburbia, who kept wishing they'd bugger off the stage; but I think she was just incapable of truly appreciating their goodness thanks to the constant flirting between her and the boy across the way we nicknamed Superman.[1] We had tickets for the Circle at the Brixton Academy, which meant dancing in front of your seat and being distracted by ushers going back and forth trying to stop people leaning over the railings to gape at the downstairs crowd.

There was this really cheeky, tiny Irish bloke completely off his head who kept sneaking past security and dancing right by the rails, his hands raised to the stage, a big grin on his face. Then he'd turn around and high five us. When we'd see security coming, either us or Superman and his mates would pull him away until security were gone.

It was a great night of dancing, and I was happy to realise that I could stay up until 3am non-stop moving without the need of MDMA. Just a couple of pear ciders, gin and tonics and water did the trick for me. 2 Many DJs set was great but the next time with them will either have to be in a field or a proper club.

For those of you who don't know what voguing is, here's the trailer for Paris is Burning (1990).

[1] The flirting got so silly that I had to actually give Superman a thumbs up as I walked away (without [ profile] loveinsuburbia's knowledge), to see if he'd finally make his move. But the silly bugger was either too shy and fried or he really thought I was her boyfriend, despite me camping it up to dissuade him of the idea. A pair of good looking guys later introduced themselves to [ profile] loveinsuburbia and again, as they chatted to her, they kept looking at me with that "are you her boyfriend?" look. Good manners still exist, people.
commonpeople1: (Default)
The biggest mystery and topic of discussion surrounding The Killing 2 so far this year is...

Who's Hotter? )
commonpeople1: (Default)
i said i love the smiths by 266aline
i said i love the smiths, a photo by 266aline on Flickr.
Morrissey is for life, not just for Christmas. I liken being a Moz fan to finding yourself in an intense relationship with someone you totally fancy and adore, but who is just a teeny bit embarrassing when you take them down the pub to meet your mates. You don't stop loving them, but every time you go out together you say a silent prayer hoping they won't do or say anything too weird.

Amy Lamé: Morrissey - Our Collective Moral Barometer
commonpeople1: (Default)
Morrissey by etchasketchist
Morrissey, a photo by etchasketchist on Flickr.
There's some mild debate going on as to whether this website and this Twitter account are run by Morrissey.

He released an official statement saying that it wasn't him... however, there's some good evidence that it's actually him, as someone mentioned, hiding behind this meta-persona that sends himself up.

If it's not him, the person has access to as-yet-unpublished chapters from his autobiography coming out in 2012 and is a very good imitator. If IT IS him, he's got a lot of spare time on his hands. Plus, I'll be mad chuffed knowing that I got a retweet from him to his 2,000+ followers!

Apparently, it's popular to film your children singing or dancing to the Smiths/Morrissey.

commonpeople1: (Default)
commonpeople1: (Default)
The past couple of days have been wonderfully long and enjoyable. It started on Friday with a talk on time travel at the British Museum as part of their current exhibition on Science Fiction, Out of this World. Audrey Niffenegger, who wrote The Time Traveller's Wife, was part of the panel as well as sci-fi novelist Stephen Baxter, some guy who writes for Dr Who, some other guy who writes on the science of time travel and a woman who works in publishing (and who chaired the talk.) Audrey was a cross between Margaret Atwood and Tori Amos, all deep husky voice and very funny down-to-earth comments. The audience had a few nutters who shot theirs arms straight up when it was question time. I spotted a few friends of [ profile] hester 's in the audience but I couldn't remember their names or LJ handles.

Yesterday, I went to the garden's Summer Fair then met friends in the evening at Rich Mix for the documentary Senna. It's a wonderful film which is hard for me to be objective about. Because I'm brasilian, I grew up watching Senna race every Sunday, my family and friends filing my home with cheer for his victories or despair for his losses. Seeing his life played out on the big screen brought back nostalgic memories for me as well as some good laughs at how naff Brasil was in the 80s. Well, wasn't the whole planet?

Senna was to Brasil what Lady Diana was to Britain in their deaths: this outpouring of emotion that showed the true extent they had affected people's lives while alive. He was different from her though in how there was nothing contrived about him: he was pure talent, hard work and charisma. There was something about his eyes that was very beautiful, his smile too - that gave away how idealistic he was about Formula 1 and making a mark in the lives of the less fortunate in Brasil (I suppose similar in that sense to Diana).

Everyone in Brasil knows where they were when they heard he died (i.e. most were in front of the telly) just like everyone in Britain still remembers hearing of Di's accident in Paris.

Today, I woke up early to meet [ profile] kirsten at Columbia Road market for breakfast. It was rainy, cold, grey and horrible. We had a look around the shops and found a table in Restaurant Espagnol, which has lovely coffee and breakfasts (chorizo on top of fried eggs and toast; why did I never think of this?!)

We then drove to Camden so she could get a piercing at Cold Steel. On the drive back home we blasted 2 Many DJs and talked about Salt-and-Peppa and what the hell happened to them. Weirdly enough, a few hours later I watched a documentary by Chris Rock called Good Hair, which featured interviews with them. It's a bit of a surreal documentary that falls under that subgenre "we all live on a crazy planet". It looks at the multi-billion dollar industry surrounding hair in America in the black community, and its consequences to themselves and other parts of the planet. Funny at parts, weird in others. Made me wonder what will happen to all those people who spend thousands of dollars on their hair if the American economy continues to slide into the hole. It's completely unsustainable, like a lot of other things in America...

Tonight, we are watching Soprano episodes while eating our dinner, reading old newspapers in bed and listening to classical music. Global warming feels like a dream when the typical grim British summer returns to chill our apartment and cover the city with rain.

P.S. More Gingerganza this way! (thank you [ profile] kirsten for the link.)
commonpeople1: (Psycho)
Shag/Marry/Cliff for characters in The Killing (via [ profile] the_meanest_cat)
Here's mine... 
Shag:  Philip Dessau
Marry: Troels, though this might involve extra alertiveness when Rie is around 
Cliff:  Vagn, for crimes against beauty
Share knitwear with:  Sarah's mum.  She looks like she could do with a hug. 
commonpeople1: (Swim Kiss)
Lets add these two to our Gingerganza.

How could I have forgotten them? )
commonpeople1: (Swim Kiss)

[Poll #1652935]

Ginger beauty is highly underrated. I didn't know anyone ginger growing up in Brasil so it was a bit of a novelty meeting so many when I moved to England (especially through LJ). Yes, yes, "many of my closest friends are ginger," etc. I always flinch when I hear a prejudiced comment against anyone with red hair so I hope this post will go some way in changing people's perceptions of how hot ginger (guys in this case) can be.

This post is mostly dedicated to [ profile] the_meanest_cat, who started a chat with me in [ profile] moral_vacuum's journal about how ginger men - Mick Hucknall notwithstanding - are quite attractive.

Feel free to add more names and pictures in the comments section. Have I left anyone out other than Prince Harry? (Who I decided not to include thanks to off putting photos on Google Image).

Gingers Ahoy! )

Strung Out

Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:30 pm
commonpeople1: (Jehovah's Witness)

Cello. Times Two.
Originally uploaded by quite christine
An orchestra is the perfect setting for a murder mystery. All those egos. All those tensions. (Because we know that's what happens when you get a large group of people working towards a common goal.) All that intrigue. Plus, the posh setting: some earning a hell of a lot more than others (how much does the triangle player get?!) And the explosive sexual chemistry! All these thoughts ran through my head yesterday as I sat through a concert at the Royal Festival Hall.

I've mentioned before Ray, this octogenarian from Hackney who loves to buy large amounts of concert tickets and invite his friends to come along. He's a member of the Royal Opera House as well as the Festival Hall so he gets them for £4 a piece ("Oliver, it's cheaper than a glass of wine in this place!") Some time ago, everyone pitched in some money to get a seat named after him in the Festival Hall. The seat is there, with his name on a golden plaque. I got a call from him on Sunday to join him yesterday, with [ profile] wink_martindale, and it sounded like the perfect night out in these snow bound days.

There were twelve of us. Italians, Finns, Hackneysians, Brasilians, Canadians, Unknowns. The Philamornia Orchestra started with Maria von Weber's Overture, Der Freischütz, a ten-minute long piece that was quite lovely. This was followed by Schumann's Symphony No.1 in B flat (Spring), which was quite dull.

I noticed two cello players sitting side-by-side. She looked like a young, brunette Uma Thurman with serious eyes. He had light brown - and silky smooth - hair, stubble and cheek bones to kill for. They shared a partitura and glanced at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking. Her cello was darker than his. Near them were two women dressed in identical black outfits. I bet they wanted to kill each other. (See, it was from these observations that my murder mystery took shape.) Somebody else in the orchestra looked like a tall and intense Casey Affleck. Suspicions fell on him after the body was discovered.

The second half was Brahms' Violin Concerto in D. Violinist Arabella Steinbacher came on stage dressed in red and played alonside the orchestra for the whole half hour without looking at a partitura. Amazing.

London has so many classical concerts which are incredibly affordable. It's one of the best things this city has to offer. That and murder mysteries.
commonpeople1: (Morrissey)

narcissus 2
Originally uploaded by dicartwright2
[ profile] verybadhorse and three other girls recently visited and did some work in the cafe. They always seemed to be laughing together and helping the hours of work go by easy. It was then with surprise that I saw a black & white photo of them on Pavement's new CD cover: their heads side by side, some smiling, some looking away, one of their cheekbones angular like a Cubist painting. I asked them about it and they had no idea the photo had been taken. Pavement had not asked their permission to use it.

Morrissey's most recent gig was at a small nearby venue. Hardly any lighting, hardly any punters. We stood at the back feeling sorry for him that nobody had shown up. Suddenly he disappeared from the stage and next thing I knew he was standing by my side, whispering a question: which song would I like him to sing next? He was so close I could smell his cologne.

I was lost for words. I needed to choose quick, the few people standing about were getting annoyed with his disappearance. Soon he'd have nobody to sing to. 'Choose the song that means the most to you,' I finally said.

Next day, all the newspapers carried on their front pages a photo of our kiss.
commonpeople1: (Wein)
I rode the Tube's Central line yesterday evening beside Jason Orange from Take That. He's about 6 foot, with muscular arms and chest stuck on a tiny dancer body with designer beard. He looked around when I first came in - that look celebrities give when they wonder if they have been recognised - and that's when I knew it was him. Otherwise, I'd have just thought it was some cute gay guy on his way to meet friends downtown.

Was he testing the waters because tickets for Take That's shows had just gone on sale and crashed a website? I tried to not pay attention to him but kept getting reminders of his presence from the double-spread Take That story in all the Evening Standard's being read. I'd say all the commuters were unaware of him apart from myself and two girls. When he was about to leave at Bond Street, he smiled at one of the girls (I think she had quickly waved hello at him or something). That must have made her day.

Pretty Man

Sep. 1st, 2010 01:00 pm
commonpeople1: (Wein)
American Gigolo

American Gigolo, Dir. Paul Schrader, 1980
Richard Gere turned 61 yesterday. Thirty years ago he entered the 80s playing a high class gigolo with the naturally toned body of a gymnast and the face of a People magazine cover. Every film goer wanted a gigolo like him. Ten years later, he closed the 80s playing a high class executive who falls for a Hollywood prostitute in Pretty Woman. Every Mills & Boon fan wanted him. There's a potential film course module somewhere in there.

Aside from that ontological moment Gere shows his derriere, there are many things to like in American Gigolo: Blondie's "Call Me" for the opening credits (and peppered throughout the film under various remixed versions); the seedy gay club where everyone is dressed like a Village Person; the way the film is firmly placed in the cocaine 80s in a way other films only understood by 82/83; and Gere himself, who is impossible to look away as he struts around trying to figure out who framed him for the rough death of a socialite. There's a neat use of posters (The Warriors, Andy Warhol) and blinds in most scenes and it's so refreshing to see so many botox-free faces. Lauren Hutton plays the lonely wife of an upcoming politician who falls for him. There's some cheesy sex scenes between them. It's written and directed by Paul Schrader, who went on to do the weird Cat People and is better known for writing the screenplays for Taxi Driver and Raging Bull.
commonpeople1: (Cabbie)
Inception Review [TRS - Ep. 174]

The showing of Inception yesterday was packed, as I'd been warned beforehand by co-workers. Luckily, I'd bought tickets hours before so [ profile] wink_martindale and I could enjoy our Sichuan meal nearby without rushing. There was a comedy show going on at the Rich Mix; all cinema goers had to take an elevator to the first floor and cut across a photography gallery while overlooking the show's stage.

After the film, the crowd was slow in leaving the cinema. Three people pushed the fire exit open and I followed them onto a deserted parking lot. A quick scan around made me realise it was completely locked up; I stepped back inside and the door slammed shut, locking those people outside.

Then I noticed my friend Natasha at the back of the crowd, praising the film to her boyfriend. "Ollie, what are you doing here?"

"You are dreaming about the film Natasha, and I'm visiting you in your dream."

She laughed. "What did you think of it?"

"I kept thinking about Slavoj Žižek and what he'd make of it,' I said before remembering that Natasha is slovenian.

Wink and I walked home, down Bethnal Green road. All the pubs were still open at midnight and quite a few people were engaged in arguments and fights on the street. I didn't have any dreams with Leonardo DiCaprio. But I have been dreaming lately of vampires.

Is this Tom Hardy? )

April 2017



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