Goodbye to another week, though I'm going to be working all weekend marking exam scripts. Good thing next weekend is Easter.

Watched "Borat" on DVD this week. For some reason I was revving myself up to not like it, but I was still braying with laughter at a lot of bits. There's no doubting the guy has balls of steel- there are some bits where he risks an absolute kicking, and another with a certain very famous celeb where he himself could quite easily have been charged with assault.

Other times you wonder why he's bothering- the person involved doesn't really seem to deserve it, and the overwhelming feeling is just mutual incomprehension. And the depictions of "Khazakh" life at the start I can understand might just put out some of that country's populace. If the artifice helps to mislead some of the people who he's prompting into saying hateful things, great, but we KNOW it's a front, so what's the point of caricaturing poor people as ignorant and inbred ? The Romanians who actually populate the village where it's shot don't seem to mind though.

Played a great "charidee" gig last night, for the premature birth clinic at Addenbrooke's hospital. Attentive crowd, CD sales (via the website today as well), great vibe. The headline band were Dolittle, featuring the former singer with the 90s band Eat. He still has some fairly devoted followers, virtually all of whom were mouthing the lyrics verbatim. Spoke with him briefly, but thought it best to leave it at that, as I have a habit of sticking my foot right in my mouth with such people.

Revisionism time- bought a CD of "Loveless" today, to replace my long neglected and deeply buried cassette. There's actually a new little book entirely devoted to it, which I just read, and prompted me to approach it again with different expectations. It's great, though "Sometimes" still sounds a bit dirgey. Play late at night, in the bath, or when engaged in the physical act of love- the loops of Bilinda Butcher oohing and ahing will never sound quite the same.

Went to see the new David Lynch film, Inland Empire, last night. It was probably the most outright surreal film I've seen by him, or anyone, though it's hard to top "Un Chien Andalou". "Un Chien" also has the advantage of only being about 40 minutes long. "Empire" is 3 hours, something I normally have a problem with anyway. Ever since fucking "Titanic" it seems film can't be less than two hours.

I'm not so thick as to expect a David Lynch film to be reducable to something as obvious as even a Freudian analysis (though I did dream about Laura Dern last night- mmmmmmmmmmmm). I like the wild association of images, and the way that their interpretation is totally up to you. The images and ideas are rich and varied enough for endless amounts of that. Just to scratch the surface- maybe it was all a nightmare in the hooker's mind as she watched the rabbit sitcom on TV ? (Yes, you just read that- and the film is 100 times wierder).

But, frankly, after 3 hours of sitting anywhere, my arse is turning to stone, my spine is starting to compress and my circulation is down to a trickle. Maybe the endurance test is part of what makes "Empire" so mind-bending. But I would have thought images and speech would be enough.

When I was about 10 I had a brief stint in the Scouts (yes, really !) One week at school I wrote in my diary that we had had a scouting excursion at the weekend, and one of the guys had got in some kind of trouble- something incredibly minor like being late for a bus or something. I was aware that my teacher was actually the mother of said guy, but didn't suss that this might be something he'd want to keep from her. Before the next scout meeting, he and his mate got me up against a wall and told me in no uncertain terms to avoid repeating any such thing.

At the risk of repeating the same thing, I'll just say that work at the moment is fucking trying. I'm also knackered from doing a gig last night. Whatever, I'm ensconced in my boudoir, Gene Clark is on the stereo and the water is on for a hot bath. Flump.

Truck on down to your local branch of Borders or Smiths in a couple of weeks, and you'll find this on page 75 of April's "Maverick " magazine.........

Tom Conway, "I'll Wait for the Paperback"

..... a pretty impressive collection of observations, comments and ramblings. He manages the smart balance of seriousness and lightheartedness that gave the likes of Tom Waits, Harry Chapin, Randy Newman and John Prine their legendary status. He complains about life's trivialities on "Perspective", a catchy talking blues number which should resonate with us all, jokes about rejection in "No Wonder You're Single", and shows rare sensitivity about scrubbing up for a night out in "You Look Fine", a delicate song about a woman's insecurities about her looks.

"Mr Goodtimes" is a funky r&b-flavoured bluesy tune that's completely unlike the other songs that surround it, adding a touch of variety that helps to make this record such a pleasant low-key listening experence. I'd guess Mr Conway is a pretty good live performer if this short-but-sweet album is anything to go by. * * * *

You know you're getting old when undergraduates are writing their dissertations on albums that you bought when you were a student yourself. Apparently a guy at some American college has just written his thesis on My Bloody Valentine's "Loveless", which came out, after endless delays and accumulating mystery, in 1992 (my 3rd year).

The Valentines, as we called them, were my most favouritist band in the whole wide world until I heard "Loveless", but it's now lauded as their absolute highpoint. To me it had the feel of a band who'd spent too long in the studio and had just lost the plot. Of course, that's its appeal to many, but I preferred it when guitarist/leader Kevin Shields was working under pressure to produce the EPs that came out in the long, long pauses between albums. He is famous for hating working in such conditions, but if the result is skewiff combinations of fey and brutal like "Feed Me With Your Kiss" and "Drive It All Over Me" then I'm not complaining at all. The "Tremolo" EP that preceded "Loveless" gave a taste of what was to come, but was just long enough to intrigue without boring.

This thesis discusses MBV "within the context of the shoegazing scene" apparently. Really, who wants to remember ? All those bands claimed the Valentines as an inspiration, but their approach was so utterly prosaic I honestly couldn't see any resemblance whatsoever. They reminded me more of low-rent Jesus and Mary Chains. Superficial resemblance (feedback, tra-la vocals etc), but that was as far as it went. I fancied Miki Berenyi of Lush something rotten, and was massively jealous of Mark Gardener of Ride, who was devilishly good-looking and rumoured to be knocking her off- the music went in one ear and out the other, mostly.

Other memories ? Spliffs, trying to dance funky to the Stone Roses, Penguin Modern Classics piled up around library desks on deadline week. Student life. Wonder what the thesis's writer will do when his time in the real world comes (if it hasn't already).

Fighting cynicism is a fairly good thing, n'est-ce pas ? I've always had a habit of looking a gift horse in the mouth, but if you're offered an opportunity then it's stupid to turn it down. Last year I was contacted about writing reviews for a local listings website, and I hardly took advantage of it. Now I have access to virtually every big gig in town, like the one by the Bees at the Junction tonight, which was great. Roll on life !

That was a long old week. Started getting a virus yesterday and feel pretty rough. On the upside, spring is here, I've been offered part-time work doing oral exams and writing marking (MONEY !), and my new CD is going to be reviewed in a national magazine. And I should be going to see the Bees on Sunday, for free. (That is the rock group, not the insect race).