Saturday, June 16, 2018
As a result of what can only be described as a First World and creepy privileged type of near death revelation I no longer have peace of mind in the kitchen. Accidentally I stumbled upon a twitter stream* discussing the obvious cleanliness, storage and space saving benefits of having two dishwashers. Now I am stuck with an inner conflict that I cannot shift. My life will never be the same, it all makes way too much sense and the conventional single dishwasher lifestyle with cupboards and drawers full of stuff seems both stupid and wasteful (?). There.
*Also on Pinterest
Friday, June 15, 2018
Today's lucky and inspirational card prompted me to give myself an action packed day. It was chaos inside and outside my head. Firstly there was the storm damage to deal with...so I left it till last. I headed out into the big bad world where for some reason the supermarket car park was blocked off by a glossy black Mercedes parked across the bay entrance. It looked like some gangland shit was going down so I avoided making eye contact with the driver and parked elsewhere. I bought more shorts. I will not be short of shorts this summer, that is my goal. I bought other stuff but none of it was interesting. It's in cupboards, fridges and freezers now, awaiting discovery. I came home and felt the familiar disappointment of an eBay-less sales day, I moved on. Then an email from Hermes arrived saying that my parcel couldn't be delivered at 1155 today for some reason. I looked at the clock, it was 1156 but no ringing on the doorbell. They hadn't even tried. They'll be back in 24 hours they say. I have an email but no parcel. How can they be back when they've not been here in the first place?
A quick and unhealthy lunch and then out into a temporarily sunny garden to rake up leaves, twigs, dead birds and other storm casualties. I counted 12 trugs of collected stuff and I was sweating. A good aerobic workout for the tired old frame though. I did take frequent breaks to watch World Cup action, I had to start somewhere. I also fired off a few oblique tweets into twitter oblivion where indifference and the odd lukewarm and grudged "like" hang out together. Brewdog make a .5% beer for the feeble of mind and constitution, Nanny State. I drank one whilst laying out in the recovery position. Then more World Cup, nothing remarkable here I'm afraid. Then more leaves and the ritual unblocking of drains in which no hands were stuck in the pipe nor were any gloves lost in the black hole. Success. I sifted through the twists of the news, too depressing; Trump talks more evil shit and nobody does anything, the Tories have produced a great ignorant lump of a man called Christopher Chope who is still living in the 19th century and Universal Credit has been slammed, that's not the same as actually scrapping it and rebuilding a fair system though. So, back to the World Cup and Portugal v Spain. Hmm.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
We suffered some minor damage during last night's unseasonal (but soon to become seasonal) storm. Two innocent hanging baskets were interfered with, the wheelie bin wandered across the road and a flower pot blew over. I'm still stressed by the whole thing. Thankfully the winds have reduced to strong from very strong so we've lost a very along the way. I filled my day with defiantly cooking things and then going out to buy a pair of shorts and the things I needed to complete the cookery task I'd set myself. I also avoided the World Cup opener on grounds of "who cares at the moment?" and instead studied modern politics via Twitter and unreliable news media. At some point my new found opinions may result in me actually jumping down from this splintered fence.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Here's a very short film we made featuring some carefully choreographed rain, nigh time, moonlight and a large window. It's placed somewhere in the film noir genre and/or experimental - file under project. Note the very high production values. I'm quite fond of rain provided it takes respectable breaks in between periods activity. Night time and early mornings are the best times for it's sweetly indulgent pitter patter, of course it usually turns up when it's least welcome.
Popped into an upbeat, wooden clad restaurant (Hemma) a stones throw from yon Parliament building in Edinburgh last night for a quick pre-Vespers snack. "Sorry" said the waitress "only one person in the kitchen tonight, all food prep is taking over half an hour". My roll mop herrings and oat cakes were not to be. Service of sorts with a pleasant apology. Sadly that whole area has a pretty tatty, run down look. Overfilled bins, weeds, graffiti, just not very nice or welcoming. Sort yourself our please Holyrood Road / Chrichton Place, the public can be pretty annoying but you'll need them some day. On the plus side we heard two decent poets reciting their material at "Vespers" in the Serenity Cafe, all good. Shame the cafe, like Hemma next door, had decided to switch off the catering when the place was full of thirsty punters.
OK, Father John Misty's tunes (pictured) have been finally tried out by me. I watched his Belfast gig. A strange affair, loads of instruments and musicians all very busy but very little actual sound and no dynamic highs or lows. Funny how a great group of musicians can really cancel one another out and just sound like background music. I had high hopes, I loved the early Fleet Foxes' stuff. This was different, tired and overworked but what do I know, the crowd were having a good time (if you can trust a TV edit).
Monday, June 11, 2018
|This was at Bridge of Orchy a few weeks ago, few if any midges were present.|
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Whether it is simply blowing bubbles up the arse of the world or conclusively proving the significance of the Fibonacci Spiral you can never doubt the ability our greatest thinkers and leaders to please social media with their impressive but unconscious compositional skills.
Saturday, June 09, 2018
Being fluid but remaining stuck: Most days I don't really believe in any god, most days I'm all for the big bang, alien seeding, engineering or some cosmic intervention. Evolution remains a tough nut, adaptation is attractive but not compelling or fast enough enough. It's all too confusing, the theories and the (lack of actual) evidence from all sides leaves me just wanting to believe nothing. Just whistle down the wind, just let it all be, just ride with the currents and lean into the wind. So I found this dead moth last night, I'd seen it (or one very similar) fluttering around the flowerpots for a few days. Months don't last too long, their life cycle is short. I'm not even sure of their actual purpose...but this one lived, flew around the flowers on a some sunny June afternoons and then died. Pointless I know but maybe it was happy, expiring somewhere in mid air and then landing, softly on to the stones and that was the end. That's it all, in a nut shell.
Thursday, June 07, 2018
It's a very mucky world. I've decided to capture aspects of it as I wander through the land. Lost. Things rust and decay. Things are abandoned. There to be overlooked or tripped over. There's a strong sense of nobody caring, particularly me. Maybe it's all nobody's job. Perhaps costs are being cut. Ongoing austerity is an excuse to be untidy, to be mucky. So we see muck but mostly we don't because we are desensitized and it's just how things are. Sooner or later everything gets set aside, becomes overgrown and awaits the arrival of the next large meteorite to provide cosmic retribution and cleansing. Then the next new civilisation can start all over again.
Wednesday, June 06, 2018
Dundee: Scotland's sunniest city and the only one boasting a V&A monster and Captain Scott's Discovery set side by side by the Tay. A city of smashed avocados, decent coffee, tattooed barbers, Beano figures, strange street dragons, conflicting football teams, out of place penguins, graffiti and the Kingsway. I'm there probably once a week and after making some adjustments for my inner compass to function properly I'm now getting the hang of it. It'll be fine once the construction work settles and we no longer need to peer through fences or be blinded by hi-vis and deafened by hi-abs unloading materials in the street. Good times are coming.
Tuesday, June 05, 2018
I'm glad that some of Dundee city centre's past is on display despite the grime and clumsy modernization. Doorways signs and business names remain intact after who knows how many years of closure. The businesses are long gone, forgotten by all and part of an ancient history story that's faded away and too tired out to recount, but the marks and trade names are still visible, just.
Sunday, June 03, 2018
Saturday, June 02, 2018
|Pic by Andrew F at BOO.|
shim sunburst strat neck pocket*
fix pussy cat telecaster electrics
lubricate car roof and motors
fix plastic bit on conservatory roof
shed empty at Kinghorn
visit the dump / bottlebank
do some more cement work / pointing
tidy work space
work more with audio interface
work on short stories
chop kindling up
wire brush / wash weatherboarding
purge old records / work docs etc.
cement work at back door
less fewer capitals
Air BnB Bilbao
*replace centre pickup screws and also shim P Bass neck pocket.
Friday, June 01, 2018
For people of a certain age
Nostalgia hooks like crack cocaine
Somewhere between divine and profane
An antidote and poison
I'm sick of blood poured on the tracks
Of friendly warnings "don't look back"
"You'll give yourself a heart attack"
As if I'm even bothered
Health warning mantras for those who know
Ignore them and the prostate goes
There's love and cancer up the road
And a series on iPlayer
The past is littered with the past
I lost it once but lived it fast
Now we're the bus pass underclass
The pensioned shuffling strangers
Tomorrow is a better day
Specsavers see through fakes and haze
You're aches and pains will melt away
On some brave new hejira.
For people of a certain age
Nostalgia hooks like crack cocaine
The worries they just melt away
I'm better now I'm older.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
OK. So I suppose you could say that these images would be best suited to a life lived on Instagram under some niche heading where they might attract attention or arouse interest. I'm too lazy for that so they are only going to have an on-line life here where everything is relatively easy. As I was exploring the lower slopes of Glen Orchy at the weekend I was quite taken by these old fence posts. Each one differently rotten, rugged and weathered out of shape, moss covered and rusty wire, hairy splinters, decay and destruction but still somehow standing, faithfully obeying their last order to mark a line or a boundary, to keep in some sheep or to prevent chickens from running all across the yard. They are the forgotten markers of once worthwhile industry and endeavour and remain almost upright in place, stubborn and redundant, trapped out in all weathers, mutating and growing as they fade and splinter away back into the highland soil.