for instance, i really wanted to write a piece about the state of BBC TV in the wake of them selling out Formula 1 fans nationwide with their new partnership, or how they've ordered a third series of Mrs Brown's Boys before the second is even screened. Or how they opted not to renew Psychoville. Or how they cancelled Shooting Stars, with Angelos having to make the switch to Channel 4 for his own show - surely the equivalent of an escort resorting to streetwalking for lack of any other option.
Mind you, Charlie Brooker's latest three-part horror mini-series has also found a home on Channel 4, with his 2011Wipe being relegated to BBC Four, and ITV1 won terrestrial channel of the year recently so perhaps the world is turning upside-fucking-down after all.
Part of me wanted to write about the recent strikes, the Eurozone crisis, the death of Gary Speed or that really no-one has noticed that today is World AIDS Day. A few days after the 20th anniversary of Freddie Mercury's passing, and 20 years after Magic Johnson dropped his HIV bombshell.
But then again another part of me wanted to write about how most things I know about Brazil come from this cartoon.
I also wanted to write a piece about the band CAKE. I saw them at the Roundhouse recently - my second time at a CAKE show this year after a decade and a half of waiting - and wanted to commend them on their general show, their shunning of the general music industry practices, their two-sets-a-night outlook, the fact that they give away a tree to people who, er, want to grow a tree for CAKE and mainly just how I've grown up with this bunch of west coast sarc-rockers.
Instead I'm just going to link you to my first end of year list mention (they all count, folks) and a delightful Q&A I did with a cool girl called Jenny recently.
It might sound lazy, but that's my evening down to a tee. This week has been month end at work, which in the finance world is secret code for "everything is going to holy batshit mental" and, now stuff is done going holy batshit mental, I am enjoying one (just one, i promise) evening off. Sure, I could be planning the next podcast, or polishing off the last two songs I haven't finished writing for the new record, or editing the takes from the recording I did last weekend, but instead I rode around like a cowboy on Red Dead Redemption, watched a bit of the ridiculously harsh Charlie Sheen roast from Comedy Central recently until I couldn't take any more unnecessary jokes and I had my hair cut.
Ahead of me this weekend, beginning tomorrow, are four of the final five shows for this year. People are already knocking on the door for 2012 and to them I'll say, I don't know quite when I'll be out yet. Yes I plan to do Scotland. Yes I'll be back in Bristol. Yes Birmingham. I am also due to swing by Exeter as I have been negligent. First things first though, I plan to spend the first few months of the year finding a(nother!) new house to move into, moving into it, spending some time in February in Florida, and then finishing off the new record.
About the new record: I'm currently recording various different versions of 20 songs, and by the end I anticipate having about 29/30 different takes to choose from. There will be a new album by the end of 2012, there will also be a whole heap of smaller releases and they'll all be sexy. There'll be a new set and new shows, but these things take time. Once I finish the album (or at least get close to it) I'll know more about what my plans will be for 2012, aside from not go to the Olympics.
This weekend should be superb though. Three house shows and an almost-sold-out show at York's Basement Bar at the City Screen picturehouse. People seem to be travelling for the show, though Louise Distras, who I have been looking forward to finally meeting, has had to pull out of the show. Still, that leave a four-act bill which is plenty. Tonight, in that very room, Franz Nicolay and Chris T-T are playing and I cannot wait to see them next weekend for the non-christmas party. I had a dream about Franz last night. We were on a train in the wild west and he was doing some kind of cabaret. That's about it.
End of dream sequence.