Today is the 6th day of the 6th month of the 6th year (well, 2006th, according to our man-made and frequently wrong/altered arbitrary calendar construct, but hey it sounds cool). Sanctus! Dominus!
Signs of the impending Apocalypse that I have observed today:
* Beer-bellied, red-faced yuppies drinking lager outside at 12.30, presumably going back into their offices afterwards to try and fuck the country up a little bit more, depending what their jobs are. Rating on the Apocalyptometer: 3 (typical occurrence)
* Trains were all on time this morning. Rating on the Apocalyptometer: 8 (extremely atypical occurrence)
* Me, considering buying Joe Eszterhas' book "Hollywood Animal". It looked very entertaining, and filled with Hollywood scuttlebutt. And if you know me, you know I love good, solid scuttlebutt. Rating on the Apocalyptometer: 6 (according to many sources, Eszterhas is the devil, and he seems to accept this)
* Shitty, pointless remake of still-scary horror classic "The Omen" is out today. To quote a film critic (can't remember who, might have been Dr Kermode), it's "a marketing gimmick in search of a movie". Either way, it's "clearly symptomatic of the painful death of the art of narrative cinema" (that was definitely Dr Kermode, as his podcast listeners will remember). Rating on the Apocalyptometer: 7 (blasphemy, meddling with beloved films)
* My agent in cheerful form, as he phones me to talk about my latest outline. Rating on the Apocalyptometer: 666 (he's an agent, he's probably up to something, but he's *my* agent so in theory I'm safe)
* My agent then proceeding to rip the shit out of the same outline over the phone, describing in detail every single thing that was wrong with it, and why I should never, ever show it to anyone but just burn it and anything it touched - then taking pity on me (fake pity, even worse) by finishing with "it was *very* well written, though." Rating on the Apocalyptometer: Infinity (like I said, "in theory")
Note: I am not angry or upset with my agent, bless his filed-down incisors and black, black eyes. One of the most valuable things he does is telling me when I've written shit, it's *vital* to have someone like that. If you're surrounded by yes-people, your work suffers. In fact, I phoned him just after I saw The Matrix: Revolutions (The Mech Warrior and Don't-Give-a-Fuck Secondary Characters Saga), and told him that if I ever complained about him ripping my stuff to bits, he should just remind me of that day, and say "attack on Zion".
I just like to pretend he's a vicious bastard, because he's a big softie really. Unless you're negotiating my contract with him, in which case, he will EAT YOU ALIVE AND WADE THROUGH THE BLOOD OF YOUR OFFSPRING. True story: One time, when I was introduced to someone at a poncey media party thing, their eyes widened in fear, they said "Oh… isn't your agent…?" then just whispered his name. I nodded, smiled, and took their lunch money. Okay, I didn't, but I *totally* could have.