Word The Cat

Word the Cat

food: let’s get buried

Posted by Chris on May 17, 2011 at 10:53 am  

“At the death of Francis I in 1547, a meal was served to the king’s coffin, while a wax effigy (complete with moving parts) was set up in a salle d’honneur, where it was ritually fed until the king was buried.”

from Carolyn Steel – Hungry City p.223

Keep eating. Hype Williams on _tube is unfuckwithable:

more drama

Posted by Chris on November 7, 2010 at 12:31 pm  

deuces has the most mournful synth of the season. plus chris brown in terrifying break-up mode. detuned drama. kat and alfie provide the dialogue and slamming doors i’ve got a ton of screws ready to go. either to be released in a pavement-top trickle or wrapped in some kind of digital bow and given away for xmas. keep watching the skies.

chris brown – deuces (wordthecat eastenders screw)

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to be lit like fanny and alexander. part 1.

Posted by Chris on October 12, 2009 at 1:05 pm  

opening theme:

Angel Farringdon Ft Smokey – Love It Shine El-B Darkside Mix

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Vladamir turned his pen between his fingers, his elbow resting on the wood panel table and a low light reflecting off his forehead. The clock ticked onto 3. Some time passed and it ticked onto 4. His inbox was full of little jobs – the sort you can store there for months at a time to guard against the possibility you will actually have to ask someone if you can help them with anything. When the clock creaked onto 5 he left the office, dropping his tie in the desk drawer, ready for the next day. He got his bike out from the underground garage. It was a fine September day – not as hot as the summer months but still warm enough for short sleeves. He rode to the pool, a north breeze playing behind his ears.

The changing room was steaming – all the mirorrs were fogged up with the heavy smell of skin and hair and the aftersmell of a place that’s never dry. Softly, then suddenly a new smell swung in from the door. It reminded Vladamir of the school kitchen at the end of lunchtime when the food has either burnt to the bottom of the pan or grown a thick skin – overcooked apples and decomposition. A large man with a lumberjack shirt half open entered the changing room, breathing heavily. His hair hung over his collar at the back and was tucked behind his ears at the side, a long side parting stretched round from the top of his forehead.

By now the only other person in the changing room had left. Vladamir finished unbuttoning his shirt and glanced over as unfastened his belt. The large man had taken a huge bag off his shoulder and was fighting to get it inside a locker. He banged the bag angrily at this space which was clearly too small before putting it down on the bench and unzipping it. Perhaps conscious of being watched, he glanced up, catching Vladamir’s eye for a second before Vladmir, embrassed, turned away. Trying to ignore the eyes which had not stopped watching him, Vladmir finished unbuttoning his flies and lowered his trousers to the floor. He stepped out of them and stood in his white shorts and briefs. Looking up, he caught those eyes reflected in the mirror inside his locker, still watching. He paused, and as he did so, the large man looked away and continued unpacking his bag. Watching in the mirror, Vladamir saw the man unpack three large beaver pelts which stank of mud and hair. Now able to fit the bag in his locker, the large man turned away. Vladamir quickly took off his socks and changed into his swimming trunks. As he straightened up he caught a glimpse of the large man watching him again. Vladamir blushed, snapped his locker closed, tied the key around his wrist and headed to the pool without a backwards glance.


Vladamir was quite an accomplished swimmer and he spent some time in the fast lane of the pool practicing his butterfly. He didn’t once see the large man, but reasoned that he could have been elsewhere, lifting weights.

After a few dozen lengths and 10 minutes in the steam room, Vladamir returned to change. The room was now full of people who hadn’t left work until 5.30 or 6. Vladamir opened his locker and was overpowered by the smell of a beaver pelt sitting on top of his folded shirt.

closing theme:

Nikolay Myakovsky – unknown (bad metadata)

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…and when meg cummings woke up it had all been a dream

Posted by Chris on November 14, 2008 at 12:21 pm  

the credits for the final part of the sarkozy and bruni story. Mr. Stelfox’s piece on a producer named Mosey also seems relevant.

grouper – invisible (hyperbole and end of year lists are rubbish. this track is from one of the least rubbish records i’ve heard this year)

Pattie Bligh – Brother The Point (2562 Remix) (samiyam remix on the flip)

kid606 – you can’t stop a stepper (new record out this week… space)

Letters Letters – In a Way (guitars whine thru montreal drum machines… space)

Gulewar II de banjul – Cheddo (superb gambian via aduna)



can you tell which is the evil twin?

5 conspicuous 6 consumption

Posted by Chris on October 21, 2008 at 12:26 pm  


opening sequence: Carla in bed sleeping. a beam of sunlight across her closed eyes. she screws up her face then opens up her eyes. shot of a chandelier above the bed – the light from the bulb begins to fade as sunlight overtakes the room. shot of the window, curtains tugging in the breeze. Carla levers herself out of bed and leaves the room. In the corridor a tiredness comes upon her. she puts one hand to the wall to steady herself and opens her mouth to speak.


opening credits (in silence):

a slow pan along a table covered in chiffon scarves. the figures on the price tags get progressively smaller as the camera pans along. pan up from the shop floor to the large glass storefront. the glass is tinted with images of male models smartly dressed each wearing a chiffon scarf variously around their head, around their neck or over their nose and mouth. a brick suddenly flies through the window towards the camera. the brick is tied to a live chicken. the trajectory of the brick brings it into contact with something revealed to be a tripod as the camera buckles and falls from its perch. with the camera now lying prone on the ground, the chicken hops around in front of shot as the remains of the store front snap and peel behind.


Exterior, Daytime. a static shot of a golf course. we hear speech off camera. it gets louder as Nicolas enters shot. he is shirtless, wearing an LAPD baseball cap and deck shorts. he is accompanied by his son Jean, full of zeal. Jean wears a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up over pierre cardin suit trousers. The conversation comes into focus:

Nicolas: “… you see it really is a remarkable place – they call it the manhattan of the south, the jewel in Surrey’s crown
Jean: “I see”
Nicolas: “The model may be imperfect, but I’m imperfect myself”
Jean: “… [phone rings] wait, I have a call”

A helicopter passes overhead, masking the sound of the conversation. Jean hangs up.

Jean: “Sorry papa, you were saying…”

they wander to the right, out of shot. the image left behind begins to be erased with pixels of the golf course being replaced by absent black space. first the grass disappears then the sky begins to darken.



sharp cut to Carla in her record company’s office. gold discs hang on the wall. the view from the window looks directly into another building which contains the same office with the same meeting taking place. Carla’s head rests at a disturbingly sharp 90 degree angle, her neck bent completely to one side. a bead of oil rund from her upturned ear down her neck and onto her chest. the CEO is talking. out of his mouth comes not his voice, but the audio track from Carla’s appearance on Later with Jools Holland… he speaks in Jools’ voice, then Carla’s. at the sound of her own voice Carla twitches. meanwhile, in the building opposite, the blinds are slowly lowering. when they have finished and the window is completely covered the blinds in this office (the office containing the camera) also begin to drop. as the same time as they are falling, the black pixellated absence begins to climb the window of the building opposite. it spreads horizontally. as the blinds in this office reach the halfway point of their descent the absence meets them and begins to spread to this window, moving upwards to the rail at the top of the window.


commercial break.

spam. there is an end in sight. is it a depression? no BailOut for WallStreet. recession proof. the future looks bleak. most trusted brand gives strong recovery. the light at the end of the tunnel may well be an oncoming train. (30 seconds)


in favour of reality: a political message against fantasy and empire (this message brought to you by “Russian Brides” and “Meet Military Singles”) (60 seconds)

new series of minder (5 metres)

return to programming

close up of nicolas and carla’s unnamed son. he opens his mouth. image flickers. fast montage:


closing credits:

thank you for watching. there will be no second series.
actual credits to follow

3 grotesque 4 horns

Posted by Chris on July 10, 2008 at 11:58 am  

steal the way network presents:

nicolas and carla [episode 3]

opening theme

close up of an eyeball. slow zoom out to reveal a rat, then a gutter, then a street at night, light refracting through the mist and catching the huge stones on the side of a building above a cobbled street. we pan up to a window accompanied by the sound of distant bells. the camera moves over the balcony, through the double windows and into the room. pan around to the dresser upon which we see a picture of nicolas, carla and their newborn in a silver frame with fleur-de-lys detail. pan over this picture to two others. one of nicolas with his ex-wife and son, the other of a very serious-looking carla with her hands on the shoulders of a young boy in a starched suit. she is flanked by two men in similar suits, one old, one young. fade to white.

fade back to a cloudy sky above a silver birch tree. we pan down the length of the tree to see a suited man with his back turned. he is looking out over central Paris. the shot is held for about 30 seconds until he turns around. he is brushing his teeth with an electric toothbrush. in the background a wolf appears walking vertically down the trunk of the tree. just then the image is split horizontally by another image: nicolas sitting on the edge of a white-quilted bed feeding a child with a bottle. this is Carla’s POV shot. she opens her eyes fully and we follow her gaze around the room before rotating to the side as she turns her head to face the pillow.

–commercial break–

elk and horn home insurance

–return to programming–

the reflection of a church spire shines in yves st laurent’s glasses as he lies in an open, glass-sided coffin, unseasonal drops of ice caught above his ears. a hint of shadow appears at the edge of carla’s eye. it moves down her face, catching rainbow colours like oil in a car park. her child, still without a name turns to her and makes a whirring noise. close up of carla’s face. we hear an echo – the translation: “why does the metal stay?”. she re-assures her son: “the metal moves more slowly, but it moves the same direction”. music has been brewing extra-digetic for a while now.

the entire extended family is in attendance – nicolas’ ex-wife cecilia and their son, louis. raphael, the father of carla’s son, aurélien and raphael’s father jean-paul with whom carla was living when she started her affair with raphael. relations are not good between these people. pan out to tv cameras walking in front of nicolas and carla as they follow the coffin. cut to a vein on cecilia’s forehead, throbbing regularly. cut to raphael – he removes a gold ballpoint pen from his breast pocket and begins clicking it quickly. slow fade to the graveyard – a black cover is thrown off the grave, at that moment four white doves fly out, there is a crack of thunder and rain begins to fall. this is like a trigger for rafael. the camera follows him as, slowly shaking, he walks over to the graveside and picks up a gold bollard. he raises it above his head and brings it down on carla and nicolas’ son shouting: “the seventh brain shall not survive”. at the last moment carla extends her arm to block the blow – a clang of metal against metal resonates around the graveyard. close up of rafael’s face – he looks confused. his head is suddenly taken out of shot and we pan out quickly to see nicolas tackling him – “i am a man with nuclear power!” he shouts. from here on in it is a free-for-all. the funeral band strike up their horns. cecilia runs over to carla and jumps on her shoulders, pulling her hair. nicolas is now wrestling with rafael inside the grave. the rain begins to bucket down. rafael’s father jean-paul, not wanting to be left out, throws a punch at the priest. aurélien walks over to louis and tugs at his sleeve – “in which part of his house does god live?” we hear him ask above the marching band. jean-paul gautier falls to his knees a single sepia tear running down his face. nicolas and carla’s un-named son has stayed stock still through all this… the camera, which has been stumbling around the graveyard as if in a dogme film up til now, notices him and walks over, stepping over the prone body of the priest. close up of the boy’s face he begins to shout:

I do not claim here to be either a story-teller or a scribe. On the territory of dispossession, I would that I could sing.
I would cast off my childhood memories and advance naked, bearing offerings, hands outstretched to whom? – to the Lords of yesterday’s war, or to the girls who lay in hiding and who now inhabit the silence that succeeds the battles… And what are my offerings? Only handfuls of husks, culled from my memory, what do I seek? Maybe the brook where wounding words are drowned…

pan out from the boy’s face. the boy blinks. the image begins to fade then freezes as nicolas flies through the background tackling jean-paul gautier. fade to black.

closing theme


network image = erich berger – tempest (2004)

cecilia ciganer-albeniz

“i want a man with nuclear power”

dillinja – steal the way

ghost – reach out (rocksteady riddim)

sawako – petit garcon

guns and roses – november rain (video)

daddy y4nkee – ella m3 levanto

los hermanos tiuran – cumbia pa’ gloria – rebajada

*words from Assia Djebar’s L’amour, la fantasia

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