Had a great night out last night with David, the best man. The only thing we didn't sort out was what we were going to talk about in our speeches. He had a great idea that we should write each other's. This is certainly a less worrying concept than we cooked up the last time we met. Then there was a suggestion that our speeches should be written (and presented) as if we were preparing them for work. This would mean the best man's speech would be delivered as an account executive' s presentation to potential clients and the groom's would be given as an English lesson.
Writing each other's could still be problematic, and anyway, we need to talk about content. Or, more importantly, what to leave out.
Last night was fun because we got to go out for Italian food and talk a lot. Then we went on to what his wife (they aren't married but were and look like they might be again so, as Jonathan Richmond once said "I call her wife, because it stops all talk right away.") calls our Nightclub. To me Borders is my second home. Once we've walked the store for interesting books and magazines we settled in for coffee and chess. Three very, very bad games which I am in no way proud of.
They did help fuel my project to make a short film though. It's scripted already and I'll make a start after the honeymoon. If nothing else it should give me something to write about once the 'wedding month' has passed and the new job has kicked in. It's going to be about things that remain as constants in your life. One of my constants is this ability to play chess at a frighteningly low level despite all my efforts to read books on improving my game and regularly playing David, the computer and strangers on the internet.
BTW, I listened closely to Bob Dylan's 'The Highlands' from 'Time out of Mind' the other day. I admit I was cleaning the bath at the time so may not have been concentrating as fully as I might, but all the same... what a spectacularly unfocussed and dull song. It gave me the impression that he really was making it up as he went along. Maybe I haven't got the hang of Dylan yet.
It pails into insignificance when compared to the almost satanic dreck that Borders were playing late last night. Maybe they were trying to get rid of their customers before they had to lock the doors. Maybe a member of staff had had a truly awful day and wanted to take it out on as many people as he or she could. The weapon of choice, for whatever reason, was an early David Bowie track called 'London Boy'. There were several tracks from the same album actually, but they merged into one another. The song(s) sounded as if they came from the 'Laughing Gnome' period but lacked the charm and cunning structure of that now almost forgotten 'hit'. It also reminded me of why so many English people choose to sing as if they are Americans. Bowie's Anthony Newleyesque accent made me want to buy a sweetshop full of lollipops and fire them at the man until he stopped.
Current listening: Wild Cat - Joe Venuti & Eddie Lang