TOO SCARY FOR THEATRES The unrated version of Dawn of the Dead 2004 arrived this morning via UPS. Fuck that crappy 18 certificate UK DVD. And my House of Flying Daggers review is online. Mike is blogging to: Pixel! Pixel! Pixel!

HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS Holy fuck! House of Flying Daggers makes Hero look like Takeshi's Castle. Mike is blogging to: Megadeth

RIP John Peel died The only reason that so many cool people die early is so that they can rise again and rip out the throats of the bastards that refuse to keel over. Mike is (never) blogging to: the radio again

FOR THE RECORD Stu just sent me this link: Sizemore sued over 'harassment' Let me answer those charges one at a time. 1. Making lewd statements - guilty as charged and on a daily basis if possible. 2. Groping - every chance I get. 3. Exposing myself - only to children and nuns. 4. Starring in the CBS show Robbery Homicide Division - NEVER! That's slander. I may have done the odd guest appearance on CSI: Bermondsey and the Buffy/Angel spin-off, Willow Licker but that's it. Don't make me call character witnesses. Mike is blogging to: Bon *cough* Jovi

OLD DOG NEW TRICKS Being ill has really screwed up my body-clock so here I am. It does give me the time to mess around with CSS a little more and do some of the nail hammering that needs doing around the back of the website. I've been meaning to get around to the non-blog elements of this place for a while so tonight was as good a time as any to start. I noticed a couple of days ago that an old review I did for Bookslut had fallen off both mine and Jessa's pages but that it still got googled for. Seeing as I had a copy squirreled away on the hard drive I put it back up but in the simple style that will eventually run through the rest of the domain. So here's a sneak preview of how neat and tidy I'm going to be: Weathercock by Glen Duncan The writing archive will be down until I get all the old contents remastered. Mike is blogging to: Shellac

HYPER INK Dan has fled Ireland for Wales and is already squaring up against the guy from Dirty Sanchez. He also had this little gem to pass on: I just blew some of the dust off my blog, and found that someone had found it by typing "mike sizemore tattoos" into their search engine... Parts of me are always being stalked. Mike is blogging to: some complete piece of shit that Jess refuses to stop watching even though she knows that her brain is rotting with every passing second.

ON THE MEND After another couple of days coughing my guts up and spreading the disease in lifts and screening rooms I am beginning to feel better. I have a theory that flu germs only really leave you alone once you have helped them procreate inside a minimum of twenty other people. Even those I love have been fodder for my microbes. Jess is at this moment sniffing into a tissue watching Kevin Spacey blow Jeff Bridges' mind. I wiped my nose on the cat a few times but I think he is immune. Lucky fucker. Then again he has no testicles so maybe not so lucky... and definitely not a fucker. I have spent the last two days wrapped in a blanket, downloading music and tv shows like the thieving bastard advocate of online technology that I am. Mike is blogging to: illegal vinyl

TWITCH I stumbled across Twitch earlier this evening and am still working through their archives. Great site. They reckon my review of Marebito may be the first English one online which is nice to know. I wasn't the only one to love Marebito as it won the Official Selection Feature Prize at the Raindance Festival which is a mouth-full-of-marbles way of saying it was best in show. Tartan plan to release the film in the UK in 2005. I feel better but can't sleep. Almost 3am and I feel a little battered. The London Film Festival is now officially open but there's not much on tomorrow that I want to see so I'm staying home to catch up on some other bits and pieces and write up the films I've already seen. Yesterday I saw the new Woody Allen movie, Melinda and Melinda, and really enjoyed it. Will Ferrell does a wonderful Allen impersonation which alone is worth seeing the movie for. Other stuff I've seen recently: Kontroll, Stander, Mean Creek, Chisholm '72, Frozen and Garden State. Reviews to follow. Mike is blogging to: nothing

OLD BOY, PAUL HOGAN AND THE YES MEN I have a bunch of reviews up over at Cinema Minima. Now please excuse my while I go cough up a lung... PS You need to see Arahan. Mike is blogging to: Dio

UNCLEAN I hate being ill. It makes me unproductive when I should be and eventually throws me out of bed at 2am full of ideas but with bad hand eye coordination that results in me typing new words like fucklump. If God makes me feel better tomorrow I promise to spend the rest of my life doing His Will. If I still feel like crap I'm back to posting severed heads as backpacks and the like. Mike is blogging to: phlegm

YET MORE... This is obviously the day for fiction: Heathrow 2004 Written on my little-used livejournal thingy for the Strange Machine experiment as overlorded by Warren Ellis. Mike is blogging to: Devo

THE DOG TOWER PROJECT Fragments and Alex in Wonderland were (potentially) going into the first issue of DogTower (and may still do) but they were in danger of getting lost behind the wrong side of the members only section of Tribe. I dusted them off because after a few months of neglect we are attempting to fire up the DT engines again. The website is now the first priority but we are still going to throw money away on a print edition in the new year. Let me know if you want to get involved. Mike is blogging to: The Descendents (I hate Blogger)

FRAGMENTS I stand on the balcony and sip coffee watching the cranes add more crap to the skyline all around me. I yawn and wait for the repairmen to finish putting my broken floorboards back together. It seems the last person to live here had a thing for young girls. Very young girls. The police left with two black bin bags of photos of naked kids and left behind a hole in the floor that I keep tripping into when I wake up. A week later and I finally get someone round to patch it up. They also left a card with a number on it in case I find anything else. At night I wonder if there is more of that stuff in the walls, under the cooker, behind the fridge. Being insulated by torn and weeping children doesn't make it any easier to sleep. My email is now featuring spam from Asia. I can't decipher the text so I concentrate on the images. I can't decide if I am looking at a sex toy, an imitation gun or some kind of manga spin off product that doubles for both. I hate living in the future. That afternoon I have visitors. The people I see socially are a little strange. It's a side effect of the city and the jobs we have and each other. None of us are too keen on the 21st century so far or at least the little that we have seen of it. Everything is upgraded around us until we give up chasing it and get left behind. I watch kids dancing like crazy on flashing lights in video arcades and all I can think of is how long it took Manic Miner to load on my old ZX Spectrum. Sarah and Alex are also future dropouts. We stopped buying new books around 1995 and spend one afternoon a week flicking through dog eared paperbacks on market stalls in market towns looking for marginalia. I have an old battered copy of 'Pincher Martin' by William Golding and on the very last page written in faded blue biro are the words "my wife left me this morning and I don't know what to do". There are tiny little stains on the paper and I sometimes worry that I am missing something by not being married. There is no one to leave me so I have nothing to write about and nothing to cry over. Maybe this is why we all started collecting these fragments in the first place. Alex says he's going to build them up into an art project one day but I don't believe him. Sarah memorises her favourites and drops them randomly into conversation. I just keep the books. All three of us work freelance. We talk about old TV shows that play in the afternoons when we get up and email each other at night when we are working. Or should be working. We met on the set of a photo shoot for a magazine that I was writing for. Alex arrived late and got into an argument with the model who was supposed to look like Jackie Onasis. That model left and we hung around drinking coffee and talking about 'Columbo' until the agency girl arrived. When she turned up she was Sarah. The first thing she ever said to me was "Do I get to catch pieces of Kennedy's brain or am I fucking that Greek guy?" We never worked together again after that but kept in touch via my PC and Alex' Mac. Sarah didn't have a computer of her own but worked for a company that charges people to look at her naked over a web cam. She spends five hours a night every other night in a studio apartment that is divided by screens into cubicles with a couch or small bed for the girls. Sarah sits there in her underwear teasing men into signing onto the system with their credit cards. Once she sees the digits she goes 'private' with the guy and he types and tells her what to do. Alex and I both have private accounts that she gave us so that we can talk with her for free. All we do is talk. I mostly tell her that she needs a new job. What Alex talks to her about is Alex. Sarah says she likes the job, enjoys talking to the regulars and that I should stop trying to save her from something I don't understand. Sarah says that I'm naive. I talk to Alex about this in overpriced coffee shops in town but he agrees with Sarah. Alex says I need a girlfriend and that Sarah isn't ever going to be straight. Alex talks a lot of shit but on this he has me. So this afternoon we head out of the city to a little bookshop that Alex heard about in Earlsfield. It turns out to be tiny but we spend two hours in there, chatting to the owner and thumbing through yellowing pages ignoring the writer's work and looking for people like us. Sarah finds the best book of the day. A copy of Webster's 'The Duchess of Malfi' which is scored through with notes. At first they seem to be the basic observations of an O level student but then the handwriting changes and Sarah reads to us. All of us. Even the owner of the store puts down his own book as Sarah's accent lends itself to someone else. "You say I need to grow up but if that means leaving an important part of me behind then I'd rather die. I think this is why I leave notes in books. It's a semblance of me left behind in case I don't make it intact. Or that the person who does make it isn't me anymore. I like the little dreams I have of what things may be like but I understand that the things I want to happen will never happen. Not to me. Maybe some of my friends will make it and maybe that will be worse. Afterwards, no matter how caring and tender you are and no matter how bright the moon is or the street lights are all I feel is the same darkness that I worry I'll get lost in one day. The thing that eats us all up as soon as we grow up and stop being afraid of it. I feel the exact same way that I felt when I was eight years old and realised what dying actual meant. Tomorrow I have to go Christmas shopping and I know exactly what I am going to buy for you." Mike Is blogging to: The Descendents

ALEX IN WONDERLAND I wandered through Soho until I got to the brothel where Sarah worked. I had an idea about an album cover gig and I knew Sarah would be into it. She'd get paid to dress up and that was always better than getting paid to be naked. The door opened and there was Marie wearing a bathrobe and wet hair before I could even ring the bell. She looked calm enough but I knew something was wrong for her to be on her way out half naked. She had trainers on her feet and a purse in the bathrobe pocket but that was it. She looked surprised to see me standing there. "Sarah is having a bad day. I think she just killed someone." "Killed someone?" "She says it was an accident but I'm having nothing to do with it." "She killed someone?" "Probably. There's a lot of blood. I don't know. I'm going over to Gram's until it's sorted." "I'd better get up there then." "She'll be glad to see you. She talks about you a lot you know." I knew. Marie walked past me and headed for Gram's place on Dean Street. This was London; a whore in a bathrobe was just part of the scenery. I went up the stairs closing the door behind me. The place smelled of scented talcum powder so the place smelled like Sarah. Betty stood on the first landing. She watched me come up the stairs and smiled when I got to the top. She was framed in the kitchen doorway with a glass of orange juice in her hand. Not only orange juice. Betty was the person who answered the phone and described the girls to the punters. She had worked here years ago and now almost ran the place. Almost. "Sarah killed somebody?" "Something like that," Betty said. Sarah's voice called sown from the second set of stairs: "Is that Alex?" I walked up the stairs and there she was. She was naked apart from the blood. It was smeared across her stomach and stained her pubic hair, ran down her legs and covered her hands. "That time of the month again?" "Stop being a prick and come and help me get this bastard fuck out of here." Her accent seemed to get less thick by the day. I followed her into the second bedroom. "Shouldn't we be ringing for an ambulance? Maybe one of those paramedics on a bike, I've got some photos I need couriering across to the Isle of Dogs anyway." "Stop being a pain. I have no intention of calling anyone. No one." He was slumped at the foot of the bed, face down and naked. This was my day for naked people. Sarah I could handle but this guy looked like Orson Welles from around the time he was doing adverts for fish fingers. Not a pretty sight. His head was covered in blood but the rest of him was pasty white apart from the hairy red balls I could see squashed beneath him. They squeezed out like plums and I had to resist the urge to stand on them to see if they'd split. "Do you keep a hammer beside the pillow these days?" A roll of the eyes and she pointed to the bedding box in which were kept the tools of the trade. "He banged his head on that thing when I kicked him off the bed. I told him no anal twice. Didn't stop him having a go though." She sighed, " �and you know what I'm like when I get pissed off." I knew. The dirty bastard was lucky she hadn't held onto his dick before kicking him off the bed. I looked down at the white lump that he had become. Not that lucky. There was a nasty gash in his balding head and blood had run over his hairy shoulders and down his back. There were hand prints where Sarah had tried to grab a hold of him. "Where's Sam?" I asked. Sam was the woman who actually ran the place. The house worked as a cooperative but Sam held the reigns and the deeds to the place. She was going to be pissed to find out about Orson here. "She's not here," Betty said from behind me. She had brought up two mugs of coffee. I liked Betty. You could always rely on her in a crisis. Taking the mug I found a dry spot on the bed and sat down. Sarah sipped her drink standing up, Orson carried on lying between us as Betty went back down the stairs to answer the phone. I suspected that business was over for the day. "So what's the plan?" Before she could answer Orson rolled himself over onto his back and gasped in a huge lungful of air. This was followed by a bellow of pain as the contents of Sarah's startled coffee mug soaked into his groin. "Well that's one less problem then," I said as I rose from the bed and swallowed down the last of my own drink. Orson was now clasping his scalded cock and curling up like a slug in salt. Poor bastard. Walks in off the street for an hour of slit stuffing and ends up covered in blood, with a hole in his head and a burnt coffee coloured undercarriage. Still, he was lucky he didn't wake up in the tub to find Sarah with a hacksaw in one hand and his foot in the other. "Get dressed and fuck off out you fucking pervert!" "Was that directed at me or him?" I asked. "I'm having a shower. Make sure he's gone by the time I get out." And with that I was alone with Orson. "Jesus!" The accent confirmed what his skin tone had suggested. Londoner. That would make things easier. "Easy mate, she's gone. How you feeling? "How the fuck do you think I'm feeling. Bitch tried to kill me. Who the fuck are you?" "I'm the bitch's boyfriend." "Boyfriend?" "No comments. You get to call her a bitch for free because you've had a hard day and besides that you're right." By this time Orson was sat up and tenderly pressing at his head while keeping a wary eye on me. "Now why don't you get dressed? If I have to look at you in that state for much longer I'll need to get my retinas scraped." While he picked up his gear I looked out of the window at the market below. It was raining but the street was packed as usual. I counted eleven windows that I knew belonged to other brothels and even saw two guys in suits almost collide near a doorway that advertised MODELS in their eagerness to get away and get in without being seen. It didn't surprise me at all to turn and see that Orson was all pinstripes and FT. If it hadn't been for the red mask he could be my bank manager. "Nip downstairs and Betty will show you the other bathroom. I'd get cleaned off before you let the family see you." Off he trundled without a word. Betty was surprised later when I asked after him. He had snuck down the stairs and out without bothering to even look in a mirror. Betty thought we would be taking him to the Thames once it got dark. Betty's been around a bit. As soon as I was alone in the bedroom I sat back down on the unstained side of the bed and waited for my girlfriend to finish washing away the day's blood. Mike is blogging to: The Descendents

SIGNS Aries March 21 - April 20 You're getting a serious case of the rainy days blues, and it's starting to make you a little reckless. You left something behind last time but don't worry because they can't trace it back to you. Take time to rethink why you are doing this and whether a letter to the media is really a good idea. It may be that you want to get caught but if you want to make a career out of this then you need to remember what it was that led you to this in the first place. Good luck. Taurus April 21 - May 20 Psssst... Your little secret is about to be revealed. People will react in different ways and you may feel a little hurt by the end of the week. Take time over the weekend to get your affairs in order and then decide which option is best for you. If you want to take someone with you please try and pick someone elderly as school shootings are fast becoming a clich�. Gemini May 21 - June 21 You've been feeling pretty self-conscious lately and with good reason. Have you even looked in a mirror lately? What the fuck where you thinking? Get out of my sight before I pummel you. Cancer June 22 - July 22 You're a little annoyed that people keep calling you self absorbed lately. Fuck them. The only reason that they talk to you is because they want to be you. Buy yourself something expensive and rub it in their faces every chance you get. Leo July 23 - August 22 You've got yourself into hot water with your parents again. You have three options: 1. Remind them that they were young once and point out exactly what they used to do with their genitalia (just take a wild guess and you won't be too far off the mark). 2. Just suck it up and be patient, happy in the knowledge that they will die before you and then everything they worked so hard for will be yours to sell or throw away. 3. Tell your mom that your dad comes into your room at night and touches you. Virgo August 23 - September 22 You have the best star sign. In a perfect world being born a Virgo would automatically put you ahead of the pack but as it is you have to constantly remind the rest of the world how inferior they are. The first thing is to get yourself a blog. Libra September 23 - October 23 Your lucky number is 12 and be on the look out for a white door. And that thing you are worried about but are too scared to mention to the doctor? Cancer. You'll be dead in six months. Scorpio October 24 - November 22 Dude! You know that scene in Season four of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when Willow finally realised she was full of hot she-love for Tara? This is your version of that moment. Except you are not as pretty as Willow and your Tara is an overweight German Shepherd called Mr Topps. Sagittarius November 23 - December 21 You've gone into self-improvement mode in a big way, which is super cool. It's great that you want to start washing, get a job, buy a new wardrobe and start taking an interest in the opposite sex - but maybe it's best if you pace yourself just a little. You first need to stop drinking the super strength cider and quit sleeping in the doorway of HMV. Letting the scabs heal on your veins may also be a step forward. Capricorn December 22 - January 20 You're having one of those what-am-I-going-to-be-when-I-grow-up crises that hit us all once in a while. I woudn't worry about it. Odds are whatever it is that you are destined to do will involve an office and a photocopier. This is why God also provided us with recreational drugs, an urge to procreate no matter how ugly we are and credit cards. Aquarius January 21 - February 19 You will enter the local Iron Wok cooking competition next week and win. This will lead to a hit TV show and by the end of the decade you will be living in LA and making movies. The next ten years things go from strength to strength and you turn to directing and writing. By 2020 things are on the slide and you make the mistake of hitting on a teenage co-star. The papers get a hold of it and the next thing you know you are divorced and lose everything after the paparazzi catch you slapping your daughter. You move back to your home town to find your old home has been turned into a coffee shop and you drink vodka in a cheap B&B while watching your old TV shows on UKGold. A year of this and you are ready to end it all but fate steps in and drops you in the path of a double decker bus. You are still alive when they cut you out but die in the ambulance. Your obituary skips the last ten years or so and concentrates on the time that you were a masturbatory fantasy for teenagers but you miss the tributes as there is no afterlife. Pisces February 20 - March 20 I bet you wished you hadn't read your sister's diary now. Mike is blogging to: Devo

NEWSFLASH I was born in the arse-end of the world Wigan is always in the news for the best reasons... Tonight we are off to see Le Tigre. Mike is blogging to: Wil Wheaton (seriously)

ZOOM II Here is the sketch that Jay Ryan did for Doc: A bunny being pursued by a TIE Fighter. I am now inspired to finally open the model kit that Duncan bought me a few years ago: I think I'll paint it pink. Like I don't have enough time wasting pursuits at the moment... Mike is blogging to: Nick Cave

ZOOM The only interesting thing that happened yesterday was that I had to break into the next-door apartment... I haven't got the reviews up yet but both Arahan and Old Boy were exceptional. This morning I'm off to the NFT for press screenings but should be back here late afternoon. In between all the films I've also been downloading TV shows. The new season of ER (safe and predictable), Lost (big, stupid and highly enjoyable) and just got through the entire first season of Deadwood which is fantastic. I love how seriously fast our new broadband connection is... The LFF is starting to pick up pace so I'll be mad busy probably until the first week in November. And yes, by busy I mean sitting around watching stuff and being a judgmental fuck. Mike is blogging to: Propagandhi

POP! So last night we hooked up with Chris, Mrs Chris and a friend to go see The Go! Team who were pretty damn good but did a tiny set. The support was rubbish. I am a little behind with some of the reviews but will crack on over the weekend. The press screenings for the LFF have just begun so I am snowed under with films at the moment. The LFF is as expected a much more organised event: The Times bfi London Film Festival's Press & Delegate Centre is based at the National Film Theatre on the South Bank. The Centre is open to all Festival Delegates during the Festival. In addition to the Industry, Filmmaker and Press Desks, the Centre offers a chance for delegates to chill out in between screenings in the comfortable lounge area or have more formal meetings. There is a selection of complimentary tea and coffee and other light refreshments available. Once again there will be Internet access, and for the first time this year there will be cordless WiFi access for laptop users. The Centre also houses our improved Video Viewing Facility where delegates have access to watch many of the titles in the Festival on tape and DVD. Pretty sweet. Most of the press screenings will be in the mornings there but my super blue pass also gets me access to the West End cinema screenings throughout the day so if you are in town anytime in the next couple of weeks give me a call. I'll probably be desperate for conversation and coffee. Off to spit some more blood now. I finally had my tooth pulled. That was an interesting experience... Mike is blogging to: Nurofen

JEALOUSY Duncan really is a talented fuck: An artist and a writer. Bastard. Mike is blogging to: Greenlight the Bombers

MAREBITO For fans of Japanese horror and HP Lovecraft: The Stranger from Afar Mike is blogging to: nothing

THEY WERE SQUIRRELS... On my way out to Raindance again. Three movies today including a Vincent Gallo flick and a Japanese horror movie that I am twitching to see. If the movies over run I may not get away in time for the pillow fight... Scroll down for my mobile number if you need to annoy me. Doc - the bastard - is hanging out with Jay Ryan tomorrow. I've linked up The Bird Machine before but now Jay has an exhibition on in Manchester: Squirrels Taking Risks I can't believe I'm going to miss it... Gotta run... Mike is blogging to: sirens and shit

BEDTIME I miss Jess. Damn Michael Howard and the Conservative Party for tearing her away from me like this... She's back tomorrow though which means tomorrow I'll be watching films, pillow fighting and tidying the fuck up. You can go read what I had to say about homegrown tat here and the rather wonderful Coffee & Cigarettes here. I'll get to Paul Hogan's arse tomorrow... Mike is blogging to: HST

BOTTLED FOOLS Here's what I had to say about the best Japanese movie I've seen in years: GUSHER NO BINDS ME Stay tuned for Jim Jarmusch and Paul Hogan (!) Mike is blogging to: Green Day

FIGHT! Watching movies all day almost killed me. Tomorrow I have this as a distraction: Come along and I will twat you with my pillowsaw. This came via the wonderful Miss Wurzeltod. Thanks for the tip! (Come to London and we will arrange something similar with perhaps Corran on the receiving end) Mike is blogging to: Girls Against Boys

OUT OF THE OFFICE/BATCAVE I'm at the cinema for most of the day but you can get a hold of me on 07963840530. Mike is blogging to: Zappa

SOGGY START You'd think I'd have nothing to complain about wouldn't you? You'd be wrong: Some films you want to take home and introduce to your parents while others you want to lock away and enjoy all by yourself. Then there are the movies you want to take out behind a barn, shoot in the head and bury in a shallow grave... My first review from Raindance is up. More to follow. Mike is blogging to: Rammstein

OCTOBER With a little luck I'm seeing three movies today and a couple more over the weekend. Come Monday Jess is off to cover the Conservative Party conference so I'll be watching and writing about a bunch more movies until she gets back. The rest of the month is a mix of movies, writing and making plans for the new year. Visible Monsters will probably stay the same but there'll be a few new fins attached to the sides. Stay tuned. Mike is blogging to: AFI