This is not fun anymore. Approaching a week on the sick-couch, and I think I'm now at risk of becoming a shut-in. I'm also apparently beginning to display a suite of worrying behaviours, such as an increasingly Mr. Burnsesque gait and the occasional "goblin" aspect. I've also had computer games delivered to the door, having seemingly exhausted all other culture in my house. Forgetting how to engage with the world...

This is great. I think. Or worrying? Perhaps worrying and great, as well as pleasingly self-reflexive for a starlet. I've always liked Lindsay for this very reason -- she's got a sense of humour about herself and a brain. But is this perhaps a bit too early for self-parody?

BUT ACTUALLY, this was equally, and possibly more impressive, and I don't think I respect Paris Hilton, although I've never been quite sure about that. Best bit: "Oh... Maui... *loves* it...".

My long weekend

Yes, computer games are involved, but this is not the whole story. Consumed by visions of carefree weekend activities, like a night on the town, lingering coffees, going to markets blah blah blah, on Thursday arvo I started to feel sick. This rapidly turned into one of those nastier colds where you can't really do anything except laze on the couch, your joints and muscles aching, your skin tingling, feverish, crap.

On Saturday night the gods of mild illness decided I needed something more (perhaps I am not celebrating Easter the proper, religious way?) so I was given horrible chest pains which prevented me from sleeping. Whatever lesson I was supposed to learn, I obviously didn't, because on Sunday night it turned out that a takeaway pastry I ate had  spent too long in the bain marie, which led to unpleasant results that I need not name (having so powerfully evoked). This also made sleep difficult. 

And the one, single time I poked my head out the front door (to take out the trash, literally), I was greeted with the most idyllic of scenes -- beautiful blue sky, people cycling past, walkers, cats frolicking etc. BUT this has not all been bad. Because, of course, the benefit of being confined to the couch is you really can't do anything except watch TV or play computer games. And I have, I have, I have. In brief: 

I'm back playing Transport Tycoon, a game I was addicted to in the mid-1990s. Perfect for anyone with obsessive tendencies, all one's perfectionist zeal can be channeled into making sure the trains run on time (with 80% passenger loads), naming trains ("Interline Monarch"), and planning intricate Bus-Plane-Train connections. I just launched my first Concorde. My heaven.

In between transport planning, I also finished off the BBC adaptation of The Line of Beauty. I actually thought it was pretty faithful to the book, although it suffered a bit for not having Alan Hollinghurst's writing to flesh out the characters a bit more. It certainly looked the part, though. I also wrapped up Damages, Season 2 and Kathy Griffin, My Life on the D-List. This then led to some Youtube investigating into the feud between Barbara Walters and the *wonderful* Rosie O'Donnell. I was amused that only the day after the infamous fight, this was Kathy's response. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm still shocked when I see how hated Rosie is (at least among youtube comment-leaving types). I LOVE Rosie -- I really do, and I hate her haters. But anyway.

So, when I was interspersing Damages with Kathy Griffin, I made a decision to adopt either an Ellen Parsons or a Kathy Griffin persona at work to "get things done", and tear through the inertia of government. I can't decide if I'd prefer to have Ellen's "fuck-off" vibes permeating from a humourless face, or begin every sentence with "here's the thing..." In my Damages-watching/cold haze, I also decided that it would be cool to have private investigators with which to acquire "information" and power, so be careful. 

My new work image?

From 2000 to 2001, but not yet in 2009 and nowhere near my exam revision, I can't tell if this is hilarious or devastating. 

Hilarious: Michael Jackson's godlike acknowledgement at the beginning.

Devastating: The sense that Liza's not quite with us, savouring a comeback moment that's not quite happening.

Hilarious: The final high note.

Devastating: When she flashes some leg.

Hilarious: When the gospel choir emerges in the background.

Devastating: A pervasive feeling of tragedy and decline.

KylieX2008

The aforementioned artistic laziness of Sticky & Sweet has made me appreciate KylieX2008 and its flaws. Within Kylie-fan-land, this is a deeply controversial tour, having been talked into some kind of symbol of the "Decadent" end of William Baker's reign (which actually shows no sign of ending). There have been quite valid complaints that many of the show's components are actually reformulated aspects of past tours. But also irritating bitchy-forum talk about how there weren't enough hits/were enough hits, blah blah blah. If I was Kylie Minogue and read her forums, I'd resign purely to escape her bitchy bitchy fans. But anyway, I'm not Kylie Minogue and I should just get over it.

The intent of the show was to move away from the Showgirl phase. No feathers, less old favourites, a more minimal look and sound - a move back to the now hallowed Fever era and its comparatively bold simplicity. This was an exciting shift because I and her *better* fans have always thought K is at her best when she's pushing the envelope and isn't in career retreat mode. (Although interestingly this was a career retreat of sorts, since X has sold well below expectations. So well done for not pulling out the feathers.) 

But the centrepiece of this stark simplicity - her giant, stark and simple stage - was, for me at least, part of the reason the show failed to connect. The stage was a monster. Basically a giant light box with a massive slanted video screen floor, and movable video curtains that could shift around the stage creating various effects and moods. No steps, no catwalk, no giant rotating things. Just Kylie standing in a box, and occasionally looking lost in it. While I can appreciate the stark minimalism, I notice that in each show my attention often wandered to the mechanics of the stage - how do the light curtains move?  Where's that light coming from? Where did that giant skull come from? How is it rigged up?

Another mini-issue for me was that lots of the show's best moments were kind of, if you think about, rejigs of past best moments. The entrance as a kind of cyborg-type-thing was like Fever's "Kyborg" rising from the stage; geisha stuff has been done before; elements of Body Language Live ran through it, and I'm sick of her closing with I Should Be So Lucky. But when it was pushing new ground I was amazed. Particularly the skull section, with its contrasting of gorgeous electronic imagery, a glitter skull and, bizarrely, Communist chic. Like every Kylie moment that *really* grabs me, it eluded to themes much darker than it actually revealed, particularly in the songs where that skull was just sitting there, overshadowing everything. This is the peculiar appeal of K: we never get to see what's going on inside, which means that whenever we get the slightest hint of the dark, the complex and the personal, it can wield a lot of power.

But on some level I remained disconnected. I can appreciate that artistically this was a much superior show to Madge's  -- stylish theatre compared to a casino extravaganza. I still don't know what I think of it. I think it was great, if flawed. But I also think that there's been no real shift in her art (yes I said it) since KylieFever. Which makes me wonder what she'd be like sans William Baker? Now I'm sounding like a forum bitch, but it's just a thought.

And speaking of bitches, here's a shout out to the lovely ladies who decided to spoil my view, and the views of all those behind me, with their grotesque "showgirl headdresses", which they refused to take off because they were "very expensive". Nice.