Food Photos

Pasta, pesto, chicken, tomato and cheese (consumption in progress).

There are strict rules about posting meal photos on social media:

1. Should be prepared by the uploader. Don't nick foodie pics.

2. Verified to be clear of salmonella, fluff, finger nails, snot and other possible bug sources.

3. No baseless bragging saying that it "tasted great" or "fed a family".

4. Photos should be in colour.

5. Don't crow if you've just prepared a basic meal, nothing special about that you dumb fuck.

Applies to all bloggers/posters. Please note. 

All the Best Artists are Dead

This isn't the genesis of a Grateful Dead related rumour: All the best artists are dead and all the mediocre ones remain stubbornly alive, out there, taunting us with the poor quality of work and displaying before the paying public their artistic and imaginative limitations. They still win prizes and adulation from the establishment however because ... well why wouldn't they? Everyone else is either dead or has left the interesting but not really functional newly restored building/gallery. I could be wrong here, it's just another crazy mad theory from a jaded revisionist mind. Like most other modern things it can easily all be blamed on AI, polarizing politics and the over use of the words existential and modern.

Home Entertainment

Future proofing: Thinking about getting a new and more stylish home multi media system. Something right up to date but still subtle and easy on the eye. A device that is standalone and might offer some distracting entertainment if things outside ever get "really bad*".  Also I'm fed up with remote controls, flat screens and all that wireless and streaming bullshit too. You can't beat having proper ownership of the actual solid lumps of content on tapes or disc. Come the day you'll thank me for this advice and don't forget how easy it is to roll a juicy five skinner on an LP cover and you can read and enjoy the sleeve notes at the same time.

*Requires a Honda generator.

Wire Cutters

Modern dilemmas: When you buy some new wire cutters but you find that you need some wire cutters to remove the packaging from the new wire cutters. Moments like this remind me of the Kafkaesque laws of worldly affairs that I seem to often encounter and that are never far away from the version of reality that I currently inhabit.

Body of Water x 2

"Innocently walking across a large body of water when I collided with a confused swan and nearly dropped my drumstick."

Yet another album we could have produced but didn't.

Politically Off-Grid

Soloing on a laptop that's now without a battery. Powered, I like to think, by ether sourced from some ancient star system's dust that's passing across our current earthly orbit. It gives life for the failing laptop as it progresses into eternity, or somewhere. It might also provide disease, cosmic radiation and retribution in those same actively charged spores that it shakes off like some kind of seasoning. It makes an interesting, useful but terrible friend. Oh well ...

Meanwhile in my imaginary field of well maintained grass: This is the end, beautiful friend, the end (as goes the song). I woke up this morning (as goes the other song) and saw that all my political ideals and allegiances had somehow floated away over the dim horizon into some pale blue yonder beyond care and despair. This leaves me with no one to vote for because, as far as I can see each party is a complete turd of a party. Some with added sweetcorn attached but they still remain turds of the first order. The people are turds too; walking, talking turds with their turd clothes on. 

So I'm now floating freely off-grid in some kind of bleak but comfortable space where their words, opinions and bullshit cannot hurt me. (They can obviously still hurt me in various real world ways but in terms of engagement I'm imagining that I'm out.) (I'm now worried about the bracket use and the full stop's placement but I can recover from this.) (It's only punctuation after all.) So I'm back once more to making any vote I fail to make as absurd as possible for the time being. Such is the benign but quirky influence of those cosmic particles.

Paywall Blues/Golden Globes

Above: When somebody's shared a juicy story link on social media and you click it and you get a screen like this ... nope, I won't be bothering with anything like that no matter how interesting the topic might be.

Below: Due to our busy schedule and a warm Chinese dinner we missed attending the Golden Globes last night but dressed up for them anyway. The theme was "When the Cubist, Surrealist, Impressionists attended the Golden Globes having purchased two rare tins of anchovies at Dalgety Bay Aldi earlier in the day". Tough Gig.

Sardines

A lovely can of sardines gifted to me. Nice art work and I like sardines. I feel there's nothing for me to explain but it's disturbing that we currently live in a world devoid of anchovies. How long before it's the sardines? This will grow into a list of things that can only get longer until it's not really a list anymore, just a means to jog distant memories. The things we lost in the "warming". None of us have done anything wrong other than being a willing but tiny part of a global concoction of crazy appetites within badly constructed markets. We've really fucked everything up proper.

Viking Roots

It's a bubble that will burst any second and I'm already late with finding and filing my stylized viking image. I already know it's not part of my brown eyed, dark haired background; a typical mixed up saxon/celtic mongrel of a human. Because, naturally everybody wants to be a viking, everybody wants that DNA % trace somewhere in their bloodline. You're a proper romantic outlaw then with a vivid if misunderstood back story; a violent heathen warrior for a distant grandfather and some willowy blonde shield maiden as a far away granny. Every little helps and I suppose and nobody really wants Genghis Khan, Vlad the Impaler or Attila the Hun as a relative.

Edinburgh Airport Daily Photo

The cost of picking up or dropping off at (the fabulous) Edinburgh Airport has risen to £5 for ten minutes and thereafter £1 per minute. What a privilege it is to drive there on such finely finished roads and into the well drained, ventilated and designed "welcome to Scotland" area where visitor's first (and last) impressions of our wonderful land are formed. It is a fitting tribute to the sharp minds, generous spirit and extraordinary vision of Scotland's top transport and infrastructure companies and their highly professional people. Thank you all for another wonderful personal motoring experience*. 

*I may well have overcooked the sarcasm on this one, I'm truly sorry.

Cracked Plastic Boxes

Now we're into 2024 with our high hopes and low expectations. The once twinkling decorations are down, packed away with something quite close to meticulous care but already forgotten. They sleep on like hibernating bears, randomly placed in the cracked plastic boxes that we bought from B&Q many years ago when the world was young and a little brighter. Some say that the seasonal slump is upon us but experience tells us that we're likely to survive in some form. Plans are afoot. An alcohol free January is also unlikely. No quick wins for the retired gamblers. A normal if quirky routine beckons. There are a few more well chosen words that I could apply to this graffiti ruin of a blog post but I'll leave that until later ... maybe February.

Now Approaching

We are now approaching the year of our lard 2024. Please remain seated, extinguish all cigarettes, tie your shoe laces and (please) no swearing. It'll all be over in about 300 days or so and you'll hardly feel any pain because nothing will really be any different unless it's all a little worse. Should you encounter any well spoken drunks or French existentialists dancing in the streets just try to ignore them. I'm assured there's portions of cold scrambled eggs and haggis awaiting them in some friendly fridge.

I'm in quite a hurry now as my laptop's battery has been surgically removed for health reasons and so my external connections may expire at any moment. If you're looking for me I'll be out there exploring the kinder, more gentle Bluesky app, writing things down frantically and then losing the bits of paper. Failing that I'll be hiding under this table (as above) along with a cat accomplice of some sort. It's all worked out reasonably well for me so far using this simple technique. Anyway it's just another year.

Arbroath Daily Photo

A few days ago I was in Arbroath, a small seaside town in Scotland, for the football and the pie(s) mainly. The weather was a bit dodgy. I also saw a strange and rather sad looking house that made me think, (house as shown above).

Satsuma Consumption

Expendable

Surreal Christmas

Welcome to another surreal Christmas.

The symbolism is lost on us but ... 

Make of it what you will. 

Take from it what you need. 

Leave what you'd only waste. 

Show respect for this world.

Judge actions not words.

It's not over till the end.

Just believe in yourself.

Twelve Bananas

 

Bananas: Somebody very quickly ate four and nobody noticed or perhaps there never were twelve bananas. I confused this with the film Twelve Monkeys but since I only had eight bananas nothing really made sense after that. I don't believe a crime was committed here. I think that the photograph was staged. The photographer may have been a primate of some sort. At this time of year you can't really take anything seriously. Those stripy coloured clouds that are everywhere on Instagram but never seen by anyone I know and now there are volcanic eruptions. 

Outside I heard a scream. Somebody had slipped on a banana skin and fallen hard onto the pavement in broad daylight. I did notice that it was rather icy outside or was it just my imagination? An Asian lady in nurses' scrubs ran up and kindly tended to the victim. I was unable to help as I was carrying a cat in a basket. Somewhere somebody wondered if today was the correct day to just leave the world behind.

Best Tweet of 2023?

I keep on thinking of X as Twitter despite the relentless passage of time and the various X promoting outbursts that have taken place. I'm not alone in this. It's a position that's unlikely to change. A man of my age has only so much brain elasticity and focus. I also dislike pandering to and giving way to rich idiots who of course can call things whatever they like and tweak them beyond recognition. It's their train set anyway so let them play. My resistance is pointless. Plus, of course X is just a stupid name. It cant be used as a verb and it looks shit as a logo. 

I've pretty much stopped using the X platform apart from the odd bit of lurking (it turned this gem up the other day) and the other replacement alternatives and competitors are pretty rubbish too. This small part of the world and some vague golden age, briefly useful and fun for a while is now broken. Actually it was well on the way to shambolic brokenness before Mr Musk got involved. So what. 

Soft Underbelly

 

This is a view of the (old) Forth Road Bridge's private parts that most people never see. That's because it's the subway on the south side. It's not soft either, more of a sort of damp, drippy and muddy utility tunnel for lost pedestrians, but it's definitely under the roadway.

Cult of Added Brown Sauce

N might well stand for Nonesuch. A mysterious pie scoffing cult that both worship and sacrifice hot meaty pies encased in seeded bread rolls, consumed upon a midnight clear as is the custom. Circles of stones provide the clue along with a trail of crumbs. Brown sauce aka "Blood of the Crow" is added in the pattern of the holy Nonesuch cypher. It's a mix of the yummy and esoteric elements of whatever you may think and goes back a long way. Lilith (Adam's first wife) is credited with the invention of the lamb pie, Genesis: something or other. It's a tradition at this time of year.