Slow Spillage

I quite like the idea of a slow spillage sign being applied to a stream of lava, crawling in slow motion down a mountainside and gradually thickening and burning up the ground it covers. Anyway this is about a DIY road sign spotted locally. A Sharpie written white board on an old black chair warning passing motorists that diesel has been spilled all over the road. 

A short while after I'd clocked this, a wagon from Edinburgh City Council arrived and scattered absorbent material across the offending area. The homemade sign remains on station, guarding the damaged stretch of roadway. Someone, somewhere is a well loved folding chair short tonight and are unable to sit by the kitchen table. Remember them in your thoughts and prayers.

Vague and Absurd

I've noticed that despite appearing to be composed of strait lines in concrete and wood, Dundee's temple of inequality and tone deafness, the V&A, is squint and cock-eyed in a number of places (if you look closely). Not sure if this some formal but informal style, a deliberate trick or just "how it all turned out" due to the vagaries of materials and settlement. It remains an enigmatic building that I continue to like despite myself, interesting on the outside, strangely full of wasted space on the inside and somehow unable to produce exhibitions with any kind of "wow" factor. Like some alien thing it just doesn't gel with the world outside and the city it sits precariously on the edge of. Fife looks on blankly as the V&A's tortured jaw butts out across the Tay with a silent menace.

The latest exhibition, entitled Disco (?) looks for all the world like it was pulled together from the 5th year school notes of some upper class kid travelling around Europe on her trust fund in the 90s. So it's mostly full of privilege signals, absolute pish and chatty tittle tattle ("here's my first ever joint in France etc."). Some might argue that it's worthy of being put out there as a record but frankly there's no connection in there that fits with Dundee life or Scotland's art scene, not now or in the 90s. The days when you could stick Polaroids on a wall along with old DJ flyers and Sharpie notes name checking your pals and call it art have I think long gone.

I wonder how long it will last before the plug is pulled.

Sympathy for the Seagull

 

Seagulls circle endlessly I sing silent harmony (as the they feast on redundant building materials deep inside the skip). Slim pickings among the timber, plaster and plastic. Move on, go over to Burger King or the bins by the fish and chip shop. Live in the civilized wild and forget your great fishing heritage as you scramble in and over the dry land waste. This is no longer your world to plunder, we've twisted it and broken the chain and you just suffer the ignominy of this miserable trashcan future. The humiliation of perpetual skip diving now that life no longer teems in the muddy dark waters.

Do whatever thou wilt

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law: so taking some inspiration from these words I reduced the size of the vid to the actual size it is mainly because I realized that the visuals I'd used had been resized by me previously into odd, slightly incomprehensible or unsuitable sizes. Had I gone to proper movie school or done actual media studies I'd have known this but I obviously don't so I am forced into cheap and cheerful, clumsy recovery action that's probably OK for the time being, as if I could care less.

Space Time Continuum

Encountering the great beyond close at hand: I opened my eyes this morning, struggled into unsteady wakefulness and the conscious world only to see before me conclusive proof that as I slept, once again a great tear has occurred in the space time continuum. I'm sorry but this was on my watch. I must remember not to fall asleep and so allow this to happen. Sometimes I think I take a little too much responsibility upon myself but I guess that's just my nature.

Look up at the stars

I like to think that we invented space-rock before it was a thing. There are other things I quite like to think, few if any of them are actually true but the pleasure I get from thinking them makes it all worthwhile. This is known as "telling yourself stories that you know are fictional or not accurate", it's a fairly common aspect of human behaviour, look out for it as you travel life's highways and low-ways, you'll find lots of examples.

Bedside Rum and Miles Davis

 

I like to get a good rum buzz early in the morning so I always ensure there's a bottle ready and available at my bedside. Rum is both tasty and nutritious, like apple pie and ice cream or hard boiled eggs smothered with pepper and salt (other things I like to have at hand for nocturnal and/or early morning sustenance). Please don't take this nutritional advice as being in any way useful or worth acting upon.

Struggling with confidence when it comes to musical theory and playing out or jamming? This quote from Miles Davis might help (or it might make it all worse).

Self Testing for Covid

Covid testing via the self service mail shot kit method isn't so bad. Dib-dabbing the nose and throat are momentarily unpleasant but doable. I imagine those that get a sexual kick out of gagging will be happy enough and may well order extra tests. 

The tricky part is of course managing to urinate precisely on the "S" for sample mark when only two tiny dribbles are allowed. Control and accuracy are required and it's not all that easy for men of a certain age, not sure how the ladies are managing with this one either. Incidentally I scored a reasonable enough "C" which apparently stands for "Control", I was hoping for a C+ but damn right there, I made it.

Macedonian Goat Pizza

 

Well these are remains of what at one time was a full 360 degree pizza. Now sadly reduced to the cold leftover slices. Not sure about the actual goat content either as I just made that up to make the title more interesting. There may be traces there among the peppers, chilli, red onions and Greek cheese but I doubt it. It was quite tasty. Tea, supper and breakfast.

Touched by the Hand of Rick Beato

It's just an accident of the algorithms but nice to be in the temporary company of the illustrious Rick Beato on our YouTube screen. Clearly he's yet to discover us and to honest it's pretty unlikely that he ever will. Nice when two diverse worlds collide in the virtual reality of fake reality though.

Sometimes life is hard and unforgiving but a hearty, meaningless slogan always helps: today's suggested slogan being "look around and take precautions". This little number knocks "get Brexit done" and other SPAD engineered Tory pish straight into a cocked hat. You read it here first.

Miss that boy

Easily deserving a million likes on YouTube we're launched into the hard to handle romantic, heart rending, torch song/performance/video category. Will it happen I wonder? We stand at another creative crossroads making the usual slow start in our ongoing tussle with obscurity and fame.

Barcelona Taxi

From the archives; a short instrumental memory of a taxi ride in Barcelona which was a lot less traumatic and edgy than the track itself. Basically I thought it was a nice snappy, aftermarket title for the piece and perhaps any folks who have suffered tricky city taxi rides might find that the tune lines up with their experiences. So though the tune's from the archive, the video is by our newly acquired lazy visuals bot who mechanically scoured the www for inspiration.

National Freelancers Day

 

NFD was yesterday, strangely I didn't receive a box of cakes, a corporate logo sweatshirt or even a few words of encouragement from my remote and salaried masters. It simply passed like any other day, quietly, uneventfully and was ended by a nice tea after a hot afternoon cutting the grass and then quaffing a cool beer or two watching the footy. 

Maybe we weren't included here in Caledonia as we're not really a proper nation, just a rag-tag tribe of kilted ferrets fighting in a sack like drunken sailors and we'd only waste the day. The psyche is complex but predictable. Soon I'll be an OAP and even more conflicted about what stereotypical label to moan about.

Analogue Man: The Movie

As you might know we tend not to make many music videos due to the high technical costs, the need for professional production values and our complete lack of expertise at fiddling around with computers and such things (hence the analogue theme). Anyway we've befriended a homeless bot and in a nifty exchange for bed, board and a few drinks now and then it's settled in and begun to produce videos randomly. There's a full clutch of broody videos that are being brooded over by our AI house guest and we'll be releasing them as and when the holy spirit guides our clumsy footsteps.

I find my best visual ideas come when I'm plucking the long white hairs that grow within my nostrils. It begins as I reach a state of dim self hypnosis and depart the visible world and tune into the celestial voices that inhabit our bathroom ceiling via the cosmic receiver that is the large chrome magnifying mirror into which I am gingerly peering into my nostril cavities. And so the wild ideas and strange visions abound like drunken angels or flying snowmen. I can't really explain it any further.

Stabbing in the dark

Parking these images here in the hope that come the day I am not randomly stabbing in the dark through plasterboard to locate a fixing in a stud partition in the utility room. The hazards are power cables, drain pipes and hot and cold water supplies, so I don't want to hit them. These are my (badly recorded and liable to some slight misunderstanding) reference points should the dark demon of DIY need to arise within our household and I actually have to do something technical, time will tell.

Edinburgh

Fairly accurate rendition of the version of Edinburgh that exists only in Bizarro World at present. Worth a visit once the pandemic calms down and the crazy traffic plan is sorted. Out own little part of the fabled city is not represented, apparently we don't exist or perhaps we've failed to make the journey through the portal. I did experience an unwelcome jolt the other day but shrugged it off as just another part of the aging process coupled with too much Cherry Coke.

Cultural Highlights

 

Don't take this the wrong way but .... when as a teenager I first I heard the Himmler quote, " every time I hear the word culture I want to reach for my pistol", it affected me. It still affects me now. I don't know why. Distorting the word "culture" with a heavy load of malice. Are some cultures worth more than others? Old colonials and the self righteous might well think they are. Context is important in finding meaning I suppose.

I was reading some of the series "My Cultural Highlights" in the Guardian's free to air web pages. There famous, arty and worthy individuals list their top five or six most influential or beloved examples of the C word and the impact those things had on their lives. I'm often left cold by their choices and I'm often left thinking that I'm truly stuck in my own peculiar little unsophisticated cultural vacuum ... just like almost everybody else.

As the child's song goes "you in your small cultural vacuum and I in mine". Just be happy there and ignore the background noise.

Pimp My Rig

I'm not sure quite why I like this frozen moment in time but I do: Blind Faith's rig from their Hyde Park concert in 1969 - taken after the show. A simpler, analogue sound set up that's very appealing. Like a car with no flat screen, traction control or all the bells and whistles that get in the way of driving (I'll probably regret saying that) or Laughing Cow cheese portions, maybe HB pencils even. Can't credit the unknown photographer but it's a good'un.

Space, Science and Sperm

There's always a news story lurking somewhere on the web that makes you think, "that's something I had never considered". Today it's the relative toughness of deep frozen sperm in space. According to the article the cosmic sperm is mouse sperm but it's already produced a new generation of space mice. The sci-fi plot options here are pretty much endless. I for one will happily work alongside our new mouse masters when they eventually come into power.

Friday Afternoon

Friday afternoon, leaving the local branch of Lidls. Perhaps gathering at Dalmeny railway station thinking a train might stop, or even just expecting the mythical No.43 bus to come along.

Don't bin me, compost me!

A simple message on a coffee cup. I was wondering if the same idea might be applied to funeral practices, somehow. Don't bury me, don't incinerate me, don't drop me in the ocean or put me on a pyre or on a burning longship. Just put me into/onto the compost heap, but respectfully.  Then share a decent dram and a few good sausage rolls with friends and family.

Growth Cycle

 How a strawberry develops over time.

Buttons & Laburnum

In a Tesco yesterday, at the tills a teenage customer is buying single pack of Cadbury's chocolate buttons, he hands over a £50 note to pay for an item worth about 70p. A manager is called over to inspect the note and after a few minutes the transaction is complete. I found observing this moment fascinating, a strange little segment of life where so much has gone before and what (?) I wonder will follow. I'll never know, I was content to briefly tell myself a few stories about the event before, as usual, moving on. This is the universe we live in, series of unexpected collisions. Perhaps there's a greater explanation in the world of physics.

Flaming June is upon us. Out and about enjoying the colours produced by laburnum. A welcome sight in parks and gardens. But! When they drop to the ground the seeds of the laburnum tree (or bush) are extremely poisonous if ingested. Then again it appears that all parts of the plant are poisonous. Don't be drawn into partaking of a branch for a quick aromatic chew or a leaf for a salad. It's a beautiful thing but (in very rare cases) deadly. Actually I've never in my puff heard of anyone suffering from the effects of the toxins in the plant but that doesn't make it's danger some urban (or rural) myth. 

Atlantic Crossing

 "On closer inspection I realized that there was a real problem developing within the fabric of the airship's structure. I could see small tears and cuts appearing in between the support mechanism within the gas/air-buoyancy chambers. I could not understand the cause of the damage but there was certainly something odd about it's nature. It couldn't be simple fatigue or stress or low temperature damage but as a result we were losing pressure, slowly and steadily and the bridge had already reported to me their difficulties in maintaining a steady altitude." 

"I was considering mustering an emergency crew to conduct repairs but I knew that there was, within the team a mutinous faction intent on thwarting our mission. I had been observing the situation with them for some time but was hoping to avoid confrontation until we were nearer dry land, however it now looked as if that was now not possible. I was trying to collect my thoughts when I was suddenly shaken by a dull thump and an explosive shock from one of the nearby forward engine compartments. Whatever now?"

Ruthrie Terrance

A bit of an unexplained phenomenon in the sunny streets of Aberdeen. Their unusual "street font" tiling system bares witness to some peculiar geological activity. Either a road that is slowing rising or one on which ground level is sinking. Perhaps there's just slow moving pavement quicksand sucking things under. Something I've not heard about either.

In an area of rock solid granite and tradition values of construction it's hard to understand. Locals are up in arms (not really) and engineers and experts remain pleasantly baffled. There is no clear answer but there is no clear danger ... as the pavement sinks slowly in the North East whilst the mighty tectontic plates adjust themselves.

Dark Side of the Egg

 Unadulterated, unfiltered, total eclipse of the egg plate.

Cat by a window

The sun goes down and Missy the cat stares out of the window at the great wide world (and a car park) stretching out before her. She likes to look out, hoping for sight of some potential quarry to track and catch, maybe not tonight though.

Nobody quite understands what goes on in the minds of cats as they inwardly muse and observe human activity. She may be dreaming of a cat life well outside of these parts, a school in Oxford in rooms full of dusty books and the aroma of ancient timbers relaxing in a tight body curl by a log fire, perhaps a life at sea on a schooner pitching across the South Atlantic as rats scurry away before her and salt spray rides heavy in the cold air, or on guard in a musty old grocery store getting into pitch battles with hungry raccoons, crazy mice and black spiders as she defends her territory ... or maybe not. 

All she really wants to do is to get out and dig her claws into the trunk of some innocent tree and have a good gouging session into it's brittle bark and exercise her own pulling power.

Who really knows?

Local Features

Conventional history cannot be trusted (all the timelines are wrong, we are not the first to pass this way, civilizations come and go etc.): So as if to prove nothing much another early evening shot of the metal bridges that dominate life in and around our wee town. These were constructed by mysterious but highly civilized neolithic peoples to thwart the local ferry industry built up over many years by rival tribes. Amazing what you can do with and infinite number of ox-carts, bamboo poles and high tensile steel. 

Apart from these structures little is left of them to mark the fleeting time they spent walking the earth peering into dark holes, teaching bats to whistle and completing massive engineering projects. Sadly all their wisdom and culture is now lost to us. 

The bright, shiny thing left of centre is called the Sun, still an object of worship for many fairly well adjusted locals to this day.

PRV

 

If you're feeling sinister ... well maybe not but if you're under pressure then perhaps you need to rebalance your system, sort out the peaks and troughs in supply and demand etc. Get some cosmic equilibrium in there via the streams of living water from high up in the mountains of Midlothian. In terms of plumbing this can be achieved by the installation of a simple pressure reducing valve, a PRV. 

We've got a new one and already I can feel the waves of calm and blissful peace emanating from it's metal heart with a soothing and steady Karmic rotational beat. It quietly reverberates through the household and even though we are not nearby the "good" waves are reaching us, well me anyway. Good, effective plumbing is just another way to describe perpetual bliss.

Stairway to Boleskin

 

Perched high up on the southern banks of gloomy Loch Ness ... OK maybe not really gloomy but most times I've been to Loch Ness it's been pretty damp and well, pretty gloomy. I do recall one sunny afternoon spent around Urquhart Castle and at the top end of the Caledonian Canal (both north side) but that's about it. Anyway as the Boleskin House restoration works continue here's the garden stairway there that probably didn't inspire very much in the way of 70s songwriting, no matter what folks might think.