www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Apart from the two above - a good link for our musical material (at 88 cents a track) is:
www.mp3tunes.com/impossiblesongs
Currently three out of our four (or is it five?) CDs are there to download:
"scapes" 2003, "social enterprise" 2004 and "(wip)" 2005.
"heartburst" should be there anytime now - just waiting on the programmers, so we are told.
There's also the usual odd bits of blurb and writings, so please help our stats and counters, get us up in the ratings, feed our children and get John a nice new set of tyres and a front shock for his Mazda 323 - Download us today!
You will not be sorry and neither will we.
A place to park those random thoughts, stolen images, hidden conversations and incoherent babble from beyond the wall of sleep. Odd bits of music and so-called worldly wisdom may creep in from time to time. Don't expect too much and you won't feel let down.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
It wasn't like heaven...
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
It wasn’t the way I’d expected it to be at all; firstly there was no white light, no great shock to my system, no spiral path. I was suddenly but gently in another room, well the space felt room sized but my senses were dull and my perception/radar whatever was picking up less visual information than before, before, when I was alive. In a peaceful incoming wave, carried like a stray piece of seaweed or driftwood the thought lapped into my mind and spun slowly on some purposeless current. “When I was alive, that was then, now I’m alive but not living as I was. I have died and this is life after..” The thought drifted on, I felt no panic, no need to grasp it back, no need to explore much of anything inside me, the grey haze of where I am now was slowly beckoning.
The grey fog did seem to surround everything and was sucked into all my stuttering senses. Sounds and smells were unclear, as if a hat or an opaque cover was pulled down over my eyes. I thought I was standing but I could have been staggering, I could have been lying down. I sensed arms, hands, fingers, legs but they were dumb oddly slow-witted as if they had things, functions to relearn. The grey was moving now, steamily evaporating like a monsoon shower struck by the break through of the sun and steaming back to the heavens to be reborn in some other shower later in the hot and sticky afternoon.
So the vapour trailed away, time not mattering much and my thoughts were still muddy. I wanted to question myself, feel myself, rewind in some way the recent events and put together a picture so that understanding was available. I was like my memory and familiar automatic functions hadn’t stopped, just become unavailable and dormant. My mind was a library of unopened, unread books, cataloguing experiences, ideas and events, lists and inventories of my time and passions and desires. These all now had closed with the dull thud of a finished book and it appeared would remain archived and remote for the time being or perhaps forever. Am escaping though suggested that really, right now they were of no consequence, their time had passed and they were unremarkable. That my life was stored and “unremarkable” didn’t trouble me in the least. That I was here now and found myself unbreakable was much more significant. The lack of panic, fear, pain and any rush of excitement, things I had assumed accompanied death and the stepping into the afterlife was now a mild maladjusted surprise. A bit like loosing a very pleasant Christmas present unexpectedly from unpromising wrapping and an unlikely source. Triggered by the Christmas thought I briefly pictured the Biblical descriptions of Heaven and Hell. The process of queuing, awaiting the judgement call, the angels praising, the truth being revealed, Hell and all it’s promised terrors opening up for me as I fell through the crust of the earth whilst the great and good travelled on some silver escalator high above, happy and oblivious of my fate.
The grey stayed featureless but was now less grey, bluer, warmer and accommodating though I could not pierce the membrane of unknowing that floated in and around me. My awareness grew gradually, some senses seemed to be returning, others sharpening, others dying and I found these states shifted even as I tried to concentrate on each one. Hearing was sharp, then dull as the white noise of heaven receded, sight clear as I focused on a pinprick of light catching my eye from the edge of a gaseous cloud, feelings pained then cocooned by a corset of nerveless ness. My consciousness took an abrupt turn back to earthly life when I suddenly realised I was reading. It was a sign, but not written, not pasted or posted up. It seemed to be inside my head but still in my field of external vision. It said “Ministry of Divine Works, Matters and Happenings: Newcomers and relative beginners required for career development, project work and satisfying outcomes. (Please do not apply if you have already been refused a position – second helpings of mercy are not available).”
I was aware of smaller print (?) below the main notice, try as I might I could not read it, it remained a mysterious and off putting blur. Anyway who or what was behind this notice anyway and how exactly had it become implanted in my brain? As I thought that thought the ridiculous idea that I should even begin to understand what was going on dawned on me. Here I am dead, passed away, on the other side and I expect normal rules and conventions to apply. At this point another “sign” materialised: “Debt collectors and accountants, sin and good deed consultants, criminal experts and perversion actuaries – we need you at the Ministry of Redemptive Management”. There was more blurred small print draining away at the dog end of this even more confusing advert. I found it even less attractive than the first as I began to conclude that there were significant imperfections in built in this perfect afterlife. I was apparently a continuation of some vast public sector bureaucracy, determined to mine and manage heaven or wherever I was in a structured way. The final add did it for me:
“Get your own back, square the score, settle your account with a rewarding position at the Ministry of Divine Intervention, no previous experience needed. Candidates must possess drive and determination, statistical skills and the ability to exert a strong one-sided influence over group work, no team players please!
A new life was now calling me from the Ministry of Divine Intervention. I had to find the application form. *
*Application forms in heaven are hard to find. There is general rule that if you can’t find or obtain by whatever means the form you need then you were never really meant for the job you wanted. It all smacks of a higher kind of total predestination. The forms themselves, when found, are quite easy to complete. Always in block capitals and often with plain yes/no tick boxes.
For a moment I thought I could hear Christian rock music, or was it country music drifting by in the distance? It rose and fell on some tired, laconic breeze. I looked around hoping to see the source and just as I was about to stop looking he appeared. He was a goat, well a man with a goat’s head, a white goat head and a beard. He was grinning and lighting a thin cigar or cigarillo. He puffed blue smoke from a corner of his goat mouth and with his woolly hands pulled the cigar from his mouth and spoke. “I can get you that form boy, but it will cost you dear, I need you for some of my chance happenings, are you in?”
I spoke out loud for the first time since I’d died “How difficult can it be?” As I breathed in after talking I tasted salt on the air from my breath. “How difficult can it be?” I repeated…..to be continued.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
It wasn’t the way I’d expected it to be at all; firstly there was no white light, no great shock to my system, no spiral path. I was suddenly but gently in another room, well the space felt room sized but my senses were dull and my perception/radar whatever was picking up less visual information than before, before, when I was alive. In a peaceful incoming wave, carried like a stray piece of seaweed or driftwood the thought lapped into my mind and spun slowly on some purposeless current. “When I was alive, that was then, now I’m alive but not living as I was. I have died and this is life after..” The thought drifted on, I felt no panic, no need to grasp it back, no need to explore much of anything inside me, the grey haze of where I am now was slowly beckoning.
The grey fog did seem to surround everything and was sucked into all my stuttering senses. Sounds and smells were unclear, as if a hat or an opaque cover was pulled down over my eyes. I thought I was standing but I could have been staggering, I could have been lying down. I sensed arms, hands, fingers, legs but they were dumb oddly slow-witted as if they had things, functions to relearn. The grey was moving now, steamily evaporating like a monsoon shower struck by the break through of the sun and steaming back to the heavens to be reborn in some other shower later in the hot and sticky afternoon.
So the vapour trailed away, time not mattering much and my thoughts were still muddy. I wanted to question myself, feel myself, rewind in some way the recent events and put together a picture so that understanding was available. I was like my memory and familiar automatic functions hadn’t stopped, just become unavailable and dormant. My mind was a library of unopened, unread books, cataloguing experiences, ideas and events, lists and inventories of my time and passions and desires. These all now had closed with the dull thud of a finished book and it appeared would remain archived and remote for the time being or perhaps forever. Am escaping though suggested that really, right now they were of no consequence, their time had passed and they were unremarkable. That my life was stored and “unremarkable” didn’t trouble me in the least. That I was here now and found myself unbreakable was much more significant. The lack of panic, fear, pain and any rush of excitement, things I had assumed accompanied death and the stepping into the afterlife was now a mild maladjusted surprise. A bit like loosing a very pleasant Christmas present unexpectedly from unpromising wrapping and an unlikely source. Triggered by the Christmas thought I briefly pictured the Biblical descriptions of Heaven and Hell. The process of queuing, awaiting the judgement call, the angels praising, the truth being revealed, Hell and all it’s promised terrors opening up for me as I fell through the crust of the earth whilst the great and good travelled on some silver escalator high above, happy and oblivious of my fate.
The grey stayed featureless but was now less grey, bluer, warmer and accommodating though I could not pierce the membrane of unknowing that floated in and around me. My awareness grew gradually, some senses seemed to be returning, others sharpening, others dying and I found these states shifted even as I tried to concentrate on each one. Hearing was sharp, then dull as the white noise of heaven receded, sight clear as I focused on a pinprick of light catching my eye from the edge of a gaseous cloud, feelings pained then cocooned by a corset of nerveless ness. My consciousness took an abrupt turn back to earthly life when I suddenly realised I was reading. It was a sign, but not written, not pasted or posted up. It seemed to be inside my head but still in my field of external vision. It said “Ministry of Divine Works, Matters and Happenings: Newcomers and relative beginners required for career development, project work and satisfying outcomes. (Please do not apply if you have already been refused a position – second helpings of mercy are not available).”
I was aware of smaller print (?) below the main notice, try as I might I could not read it, it remained a mysterious and off putting blur. Anyway who or what was behind this notice anyway and how exactly had it become implanted in my brain? As I thought that thought the ridiculous idea that I should even begin to understand what was going on dawned on me. Here I am dead, passed away, on the other side and I expect normal rules and conventions to apply. At this point another “sign” materialised: “Debt collectors and accountants, sin and good deed consultants, criminal experts and perversion actuaries – we need you at the Ministry of Redemptive Management”. There was more blurred small print draining away at the dog end of this even more confusing advert. I found it even less attractive than the first as I began to conclude that there were significant imperfections in built in this perfect afterlife. I was apparently a continuation of some vast public sector bureaucracy, determined to mine and manage heaven or wherever I was in a structured way. The final add did it for me:
“Get your own back, square the score, settle your account with a rewarding position at the Ministry of Divine Intervention, no previous experience needed. Candidates must possess drive and determination, statistical skills and the ability to exert a strong one-sided influence over group work, no team players please!
A new life was now calling me from the Ministry of Divine Intervention. I had to find the application form. *
*Application forms in heaven are hard to find. There is general rule that if you can’t find or obtain by whatever means the form you need then you were never really meant for the job you wanted. It all smacks of a higher kind of total predestination. The forms themselves, when found, are quite easy to complete. Always in block capitals and often with plain yes/no tick boxes.
For a moment I thought I could hear Christian rock music, or was it country music drifting by in the distance? It rose and fell on some tired, laconic breeze. I looked around hoping to see the source and just as I was about to stop looking he appeared. He was a goat, well a man with a goat’s head, a white goat head and a beard. He was grinning and lighting a thin cigar or cigarillo. He puffed blue smoke from a corner of his goat mouth and with his woolly hands pulled the cigar from his mouth and spoke. “I can get you that form boy, but it will cost you dear, I need you for some of my chance happenings, are you in?”
I spoke out loud for the first time since I’d died “How difficult can it be?” As I breathed in after talking I tasted salt on the air from my breath. “How difficult can it be?” I repeated…..to be continued.
Acoustica 2 of 05
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Acoustica 2 was last night (19th) at the Backpackers, Queensferry Street Edinburgh.
A mixed but supportive crowd saw Dangerous George, Julie King, Andy Patterson and Iona Marshall. A really good night of original music and songs.
Many OOTB stars, has-beens, about to bees and Klingons attended - and a car collided with a bus right outside the venue during Andy P's set - but he played on like a true pro.
More details, photo galleries etc. and details of how you (or your talented friend) could play an acoustica night are at www.outofthebedroom.co.uk
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Acoustica 2 was last night (19th) at the Backpackers, Queensferry Street Edinburgh.
A mixed but supportive crowd saw Dangerous George, Julie King, Andy Patterson and Iona Marshall. A really good night of original music and songs.
Many OOTB stars, has-beens, about to bees and Klingons attended - and a car collided with a bus right outside the venue during Andy P's set - but he played on like a true pro.
More details, photo galleries etc. and details of how you (or your talented friend) could play an acoustica night are at www.outofthebedroom.co.uk
Monday, April 11, 2005
The UK general erection
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Bored with the election already? What’s your manifesto?
Well according to Les Impossibles:
Firstly as we are on an island (in the UK) let’s invest in shipbuilding and build some ships again.
And planes and roads and tall buildings.
Sort out pensions.
Allow euthanasia.
(These two are somewhat interlinked).
Fire all the Health Service Administrators that add no value and give doctors a bollocking for not doing what nurses know they need to do (i.e. washing their hands, wearing white coats, stop talking pish to patients etc). Also pay cleaning staff enough to motivate them.
Let’s also start a quick and dirty space programme featuring a floating launch pad that can be towed/propelled to wherever the clear weather is for launches. Yahoo!
We’ll also build a proper interstellar space ship, or at least work towards it.
Have a programme to develop time-travel.
Stop wasting time on stupid ideas like wind and wave farms and actually make nuclear power safe instead.
All children ages 7 and over will be given complimentary Meccano sets.
Start building proper cars again: Deloreans, MG Magnettes, Ford Cortinas and MGBs but with modern technology.
Have sensible policies on smoking, alcohol and drugs that treat people as freethinking adults.
Stop children’s TV presenters from throwing gunge about and shouting (nobody, not even little kids finds this amusing). Try teaching the kids something and stop patronising!
Introduce a maximum wage for footballers.
Ban speed bumps, Subaru’s and Mitsubishi Evos.
Give kids a decent school dinner for £1.00.
Build affordable housing that looks good.
Demolish crap 90’s housing “estates”.
Cable up the country for the Internet, TV and whatever else.
I could go on but I'm bored already.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Bored with the election already? What’s your manifesto?
Well according to Les Impossibles:
Firstly as we are on an island (in the UK) let’s invest in shipbuilding and build some ships again.
And planes and roads and tall buildings.
Sort out pensions.
Allow euthanasia.
(These two are somewhat interlinked).
Fire all the Health Service Administrators that add no value and give doctors a bollocking for not doing what nurses know they need to do (i.e. washing their hands, wearing white coats, stop talking pish to patients etc). Also pay cleaning staff enough to motivate them.
Let’s also start a quick and dirty space programme featuring a floating launch pad that can be towed/propelled to wherever the clear weather is for launches. Yahoo!
We’ll also build a proper interstellar space ship, or at least work towards it.
Have a programme to develop time-travel.
Stop wasting time on stupid ideas like wind and wave farms and actually make nuclear power safe instead.
All children ages 7 and over will be given complimentary Meccano sets.
Start building proper cars again: Deloreans, MG Magnettes, Ford Cortinas and MGBs but with modern technology.
Have sensible policies on smoking, alcohol and drugs that treat people as freethinking adults.
Stop children’s TV presenters from throwing gunge about and shouting (nobody, not even little kids finds this amusing). Try teaching the kids something and stop patronising!
Introduce a maximum wage for footballers.
Ban speed bumps, Subaru’s and Mitsubishi Evos.
Give kids a decent school dinner for £1.00.
Build affordable housing that looks good.
Demolish crap 90’s housing “estates”.
Cable up the country for the Internet, TV and whatever else.
I could go on but I'm bored already.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Little Spurt of Interest and....
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Little spurt of interest.
She thanked me kindly for
The one she’d had before
The tale that I could tell
It serves her very well
Red sails into the sunset sail
And nature’s mother’s ways prevail
As I sway from optimist to pessimist
Love goes before and can’t resist
She wants her rest but I insist
And plug between the haze and mist
Our little spurt of interest.
That fragile spurt of interest.
In the future landfill sites prove useful, as they are found to be a source of alchemistic materials.
(Sometime in 2525)
Friends of the earth unite
We think we have the answer, right?
The world’s economies now in balance
Place in our grasp a new reliance
On seagull shit, black bags and compost
This paradise has not been lost on us.
There’s gold in them there cosmic mines
They buried there, the years behind,
The dust of ages settles thick,
Coke cans and isotopes can mix
With papers, plastics and cigarette butts
Materials your clean future’s lost
And now there’s gold in them there tips
In landfill, wheelie bins and skips,
Come Captain Kirk and charge your phaser,
Your flux-capacitor and Bic razor,
Our generation’s done no real damage,
We rest in peace despite the carnage.
The crown jewels upon your kings
Are from our crap and discarded things.
Spin in your cardboard graves Green Parties
Rotate amid tree roots and in despair,
Our shit still turns up everywhere.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Little spurt of interest.
She thanked me kindly for
The one she’d had before
The tale that I could tell
It serves her very well
Red sails into the sunset sail
And nature’s mother’s ways prevail
As I sway from optimist to pessimist
Love goes before and can’t resist
She wants her rest but I insist
And plug between the haze and mist
Our little spurt of interest.
That fragile spurt of interest.
In the future landfill sites prove useful, as they are found to be a source of alchemistic materials.
(Sometime in 2525)
Friends of the earth unite
We think we have the answer, right?
The world’s economies now in balance
Place in our grasp a new reliance
On seagull shit, black bags and compost
This paradise has not been lost on us.
There’s gold in them there cosmic mines
They buried there, the years behind,
The dust of ages settles thick,
Coke cans and isotopes can mix
With papers, plastics and cigarette butts
Materials your clean future’s lost
And now there’s gold in them there tips
In landfill, wheelie bins and skips,
Come Captain Kirk and charge your phaser,
Your flux-capacitor and Bic razor,
Our generation’s done no real damage,
We rest in peace despite the carnage.
The crown jewels upon your kings
Are from our crap and discarded things.
Spin in your cardboard graves Green Parties
Rotate amid tree roots and in despair,
Our shit still turns up everywhere.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Heaven is...
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
The Pope has gone to Heaven. Many good people believe in Heaven and expect it to be great, a reward, a rest and a perfect place to be with the Lord.
Those that don't make the grade however get Hell, no more no less.
So how does that work? I'm happy in Heaven but my kids, my partner, the people next door, my parents, all my favourite movie and rock stars - none of them made it. No cats or dogs either, but hey, they say it's a perfect place in Heaven. Everybody is happy, singing praises to God and we all have new bodies.
But maybe I'm not so happy, despite my new body, I'm me, I remember (or am I brainwashed by God, is that what he wants?) those I loved who didn't make it. Despite all the singing and green grass and shining lights, how can I be happy? So many I loved didn't make it. How can God be happy? It's like having a banquet in your house when the family next door is starving - you can't enjoy that.
So Heaven, a dream? Not much more or a whole lot more? I don't claim to know but whatever it is, it's not what Churches teach, I'm sure of that.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
The Pope has gone to Heaven. Many good people believe in Heaven and expect it to be great, a reward, a rest and a perfect place to be with the Lord.
Those that don't make the grade however get Hell, no more no less.
So how does that work? I'm happy in Heaven but my kids, my partner, the people next door, my parents, all my favourite movie and rock stars - none of them made it. No cats or dogs either, but hey, they say it's a perfect place in Heaven. Everybody is happy, singing praises to God and we all have new bodies.
But maybe I'm not so happy, despite my new body, I'm me, I remember (or am I brainwashed by God, is that what he wants?) those I loved who didn't make it. Despite all the singing and green grass and shining lights, how can I be happy? So many I loved didn't make it. How can God be happy? It's like having a banquet in your house when the family next door is starving - you can't enjoy that.
So Heaven, a dream? Not much more or a whole lot more? I don't claim to know but whatever it is, it's not what Churches teach, I'm sure of that.
Monday, March 28, 2005
The slackers guide to undermining authority
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
The slackers guide to undermining authority.
She was thirty when she wore her first high heels,
Early morning station platform knowing how it feels,
Just knowing, just knowing, knowing is the best,
You can file your experiences down with all the rest.
Red is the colour and the flame is burning on,
Get back to the week before but her navigation’s gone,
She was a singer, that was the band,
She says the music kept her soul in their command.
It’s early morning and she’s sore in her high heels,
Somewhere a young boy wakes not sure last night was real,
But it’s a graveyard shift that tends to make you six foot tall,
But he can’t explain, he can’t see past this bedroom wall.
This is the slackers guide to undermining authority,
I wrote the book on it in nineteen eighty-three.
Don’t put your dead mail packages in my love tray anymore.
You wear me out, you burn me out, I’m back for more.
The fundamentalists have made a basic big mistake,
They thought the plan they had had everything it takes,
Your heaven’s sounding nice but where are all your friends?
Your happiness in there is nothing but pretence.
My money worries are something I never share,
It’s my bank manager, whose back’s bent in despair,
I gave all his money to the lady in high heels,
She drives a white van handing out her meals on wheels.
I follow signposts and I follow GPS,
I find that following things tends to make less of a mess,
But just when you think you’ve landed at your destination,
Click clack, her high heels walking back towards the station.
Click clack, high heels are walking back towards the station.
Click clack, high heels taking me to my destination.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
The slackers guide to undermining authority.
She was thirty when she wore her first high heels,
Early morning station platform knowing how it feels,
Just knowing, just knowing, knowing is the best,
You can file your experiences down with all the rest.
Red is the colour and the flame is burning on,
Get back to the week before but her navigation’s gone,
She was a singer, that was the band,
She says the music kept her soul in their command.
It’s early morning and she’s sore in her high heels,
Somewhere a young boy wakes not sure last night was real,
But it’s a graveyard shift that tends to make you six foot tall,
But he can’t explain, he can’t see past this bedroom wall.
This is the slackers guide to undermining authority,
I wrote the book on it in nineteen eighty-three.
Don’t put your dead mail packages in my love tray anymore.
You wear me out, you burn me out, I’m back for more.
The fundamentalists have made a basic big mistake,
They thought the plan they had had everything it takes,
Your heaven’s sounding nice but where are all your friends?
Your happiness in there is nothing but pretence.
My money worries are something I never share,
It’s my bank manager, whose back’s bent in despair,
I gave all his money to the lady in high heels,
She drives a white van handing out her meals on wheels.
I follow signposts and I follow GPS,
I find that following things tends to make less of a mess,
But just when you think you’ve landed at your destination,
Click clack, her high heels walking back towards the station.
Click clack, high heels are walking back towards the station.
Click clack, high heels taking me to my destination.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
The Crispycats visited
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
http://crispycat-recordings.blogspot.com
Friday night and a holiday weekend: wine & pasta & bread & mucho conversation with Mr and Mrs CBQ (link above - please try) here at Inchgarvie. Cats, the reckless rock n' roll past, OOTB, football and families all figured - jolly fine and very late night.
Slight hangover on Saturday but a mix of Easter eggs, leftovers, coffee and Mario-Kart with Joe and Olivia restored me to (almost) full health again.
Enjoying Falkirk's finest songstress Jill Hepburn's altogether too short CD "Groovy enough for two" try jilljahepburn@yahoo.com for a copy
Ali was inspired to roam the web, signed us up for Ebay, Amazon and some other stuff.
Read the Glasgow Herald - see "Scribbles" - somewhere in the archive.
Also visited one beautiful grandchild (Elijah) with Easter eggs, bunny etc. He'd had a good long sleep, unlike me.
Doctor Who wasn't so bad, try to avoid the hype and crap and see it as something in it's own right. The football, well, no surprises there.
Olivia (inspired by CBQ's praise for her poetry) wrote some more:
Dad
Dad is brave, dad takes a shave,
Dad is thin (?), dad likes to win,
Dad takes the rubbish out to the bin,
Dad has a cat, dad has a garden full of bats,
Dad likes to wear big hats,
I am his daughter,
And I'm even odder.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
http://crispycat-recordings.blogspot.com
Friday night and a holiday weekend: wine & pasta & bread & mucho conversation with Mr and Mrs CBQ (link above - please try) here at Inchgarvie. Cats, the reckless rock n' roll past, OOTB, football and families all figured - jolly fine and very late night.
Slight hangover on Saturday but a mix of Easter eggs, leftovers, coffee and Mario-Kart with Joe and Olivia restored me to (almost) full health again.
Enjoying Falkirk's finest songstress Jill Hepburn's altogether too short CD "Groovy enough for two" try jilljahepburn@yahoo.com for a copy
Ali was inspired to roam the web, signed us up for Ebay, Amazon and some other stuff.
Read the Glasgow Herald - see "Scribbles" - somewhere in the archive.
Also visited one beautiful grandchild (Elijah) with Easter eggs, bunny etc. He'd had a good long sleep, unlike me.
Doctor Who wasn't so bad, try to avoid the hype and crap and see it as something in it's own right. The football, well, no surprises there.
Olivia (inspired by CBQ's praise for her poetry) wrote some more:
Dad
Dad is brave, dad takes a shave,
Dad is thin (?), dad likes to win,
Dad takes the rubbish out to the bin,
Dad has a cat, dad has a garden full of bats,
Dad likes to wear big hats,
I am his daughter,
And I'm even odder.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
One night at acoustica
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Great night of OOTB performer performances at the world famous Backpackers in Queenferry Street, Edinburgh.
Neil Pennycook, Lindsay Sugden, Big Jim and the Victorians.
www.outofthebedroom.co.uk
A very mixed up audience of fans, supporters, OOTB regulars, backpackers and members of the general public enjoyed the cheap drink, cowboy town atmosphere and relentless good humour of the venue. I think we shall return.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Great night of OOTB performer performances at the world famous Backpackers in Queenferry Street, Edinburgh.
Neil Pennycook, Lindsay Sugden, Big Jim and the Victorians.
www.outofthebedroom.co.uk
A very mixed up audience of fans, supporters, OOTB regulars, backpackers and members of the general public enjoyed the cheap drink, cowboy town atmosphere and relentless good humour of the venue. I think we shall return.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Garden on the roof
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
We now have a garden on our roof. Well not our roof. On the roof of the people below us.
We can however see it anytime we like as it's outside our big window - through which we climb to access the roof - confused?
We started it on Saturday and finished it on Sunday. The specification, design, project plan, procurement, layout and finance was Ali's work. I donkeyed stuff around and she picked up what I forgot.
Now all it has to do is grow.
The cat (Syrus) has been introduced to the various plants and flowers and the rhubarb.
He is not altogether comfortable with the starlings nesting up above.
The rhubarb will be eaten idc.
Erin also approved the arrangement - whilst watching the OC and digesting a tuna / pasta bake.
The plants have now been introduced to our misty night air, East coast fog and a small amount of sunshine.
It must be Spring some where.
A list of the plants etc. will be published shortly.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
We now have a garden on our roof. Well not our roof. On the roof of the people below us.
We can however see it anytime we like as it's outside our big window - through which we climb to access the roof - confused?
We started it on Saturday and finished it on Sunday. The specification, design, project plan, procurement, layout and finance was Ali's work. I donkeyed stuff around and she picked up what I forgot.
Now all it has to do is grow.
The cat (Syrus) has been introduced to the various plants and flowers and the rhubarb.
He is not altogether comfortable with the starlings nesting up above.
The rhubarb will be eaten idc.
Erin also approved the arrangement - whilst watching the OC and digesting a tuna / pasta bake.
The plants have now been introduced to our misty night air, East coast fog and a small amount of sunshine.
It must be Spring some where.
A list of the plants etc. will be published shortly.
Friday, March 18, 2005
A typical week of food and drink around here
bacon roll & fried egg roll, pizza & chips, caramel wafer, banana, 1 bottle red wine.
bacon roll & fried egg roll, mince, potatoes, peas & mushrooms, caramel wafer, 2 glasses red wine.
2 ham sandwiches, 1 apple, 1 banana, 1 caramel wafer, ravioli c/w beef mince & veg, raspberies & yoghurt, 2 glasses red wine.
2 ham sandwiches, 2 bananas, 2 pizza slices (pepperami & bacon & mushroom), 1 serving of pasta & sauce, 1 chocolate ice cream cone.
1 bowl of porridge, 1 lemon chicken sandwich, 1 pkt cheese & onion crisps, 1 latte, 1 raisin cookie, 2 salad & chicken rolls, 1 ovaltine.
1 bowl of porridge, 1 chicken curry c/w rice, rice-crispie bar, single twix, 1 cheese & pickle toastie, 2 pints 80/-.
1 ham sandwich, 1 apple, 1 pack crisps, 1 easter cake, 1 caramel wafer, poor man's noodles, 2 glasses red wine.
+ coffee & music in liberal doses.
bacon roll & fried egg roll, mince, potatoes, peas & mushrooms, caramel wafer, 2 glasses red wine.
2 ham sandwiches, 1 apple, 1 banana, 1 caramel wafer, ravioli c/w beef mince & veg, raspberies & yoghurt, 2 glasses red wine.
2 ham sandwiches, 2 bananas, 2 pizza slices (pepperami & bacon & mushroom), 1 serving of pasta & sauce, 1 chocolate ice cream cone.
1 bowl of porridge, 1 lemon chicken sandwich, 1 pkt cheese & onion crisps, 1 latte, 1 raisin cookie, 2 salad & chicken rolls, 1 ovaltine.
1 bowl of porridge, 1 chicken curry c/w rice, rice-crispie bar, single twix, 1 cheese & pickle toastie, 2 pints 80/-.
1 ham sandwich, 1 apple, 1 pack crisps, 1 easter cake, 1 caramel wafer, poor man's noodles, 2 glasses red wine.
+ coffee & music in liberal doses.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Acoustic Kitchen
Sunday 13th March: Visited the open-mike night “Acoustic Kitchen” at EBytes in the ancient Pictish non-walled, one way-city of Falkirk, along with Tommy Mac. Not the usual pub or back room venue as it doubles as an Italian restaurant I believe. Anyway a good time was had by all, Tommy did three tunes, one less than 24hours old “Yoinks a tenner!” as well his infamous “Kurt Cabana” and “Kiss and tell” (about a forthcoming royal wedding).
www.dailyreckless.co.uk
or http://haufjaiket.blogspot.com
We (Impossible Songs) did “How I hate”, “Cold fish” and “Rainy Friday”, happy to say that Ali found a fine singing voice after being unwell for a few weeks and not a lot of practices.
It was good hear some non-capital city talent for a change and there were some pretty good performances, particularly one set of Glaswegian based poetry that was rather fun. Free pizza was included, the usual surreal raffle thing and I really enjoyed the night out. Thanks to Rob and friends for hosting an OM night that I hope continues to develop – sorry I can’t find their website, arrgh!!
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
www.outofthebedroom.co.uk
www.dailyreckless.co.uk
or http://haufjaiket.blogspot.com
We (Impossible Songs) did “How I hate”, “Cold fish” and “Rainy Friday”, happy to say that Ali found a fine singing voice after being unwell for a few weeks and not a lot of practices.
It was good hear some non-capital city talent for a change and there were some pretty good performances, particularly one set of Glaswegian based poetry that was rather fun. Free pizza was included, the usual surreal raffle thing and I really enjoyed the night out. Thanks to Rob and friends for hosting an OM night that I hope continues to develop – sorry I can’t find their website, arrgh!!
www.impossiblesongs.com
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
www.outofthebedroom.co.uk
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Guitar Shaped Universe
Research is going on within our facility into this matter, it takes time but we are confident of finding further proof. "$aving America in a guitar shaped universe" is one of our core outputs and a key task. We may require your help in the future - be ready.
In the mean time some new short stories are available on our Fairytale Management Blog. Please take some time to check it out, FTMT, like this blog is large and also contains a great deal of archived material.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Your custom lifestyle soundtrack can be found at www.impossiblesongs.com or www.mp3tunes.com/impossiblesongs and also many other dark and strange places.
You can also email us and we'll see what we can do - direct sales are fine by us:
is@songs.fsworld.co.uk
In the mean time some new short stories are available on our Fairytale Management Blog. Please take some time to check it out, FTMT, like this blog is large and also contains a great deal of archived material.
http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
Your custom lifestyle soundtrack can be found at www.impossiblesongs.com or www.mp3tunes.com/impossiblesongs and also many other dark and strange places.
You can also email us and we'll see what we can do - direct sales are fine by us:
is@songs.fsworld.co.uk
Friday, March 11, 2005
A polite breakfast 5
Full English, conveyor toast, small juice glass, one sausage, beans, funny tasting coffee, yoghurt in a tiny pot, £6.95 plus nothing. A travel-lodge type of thingy near Preston (off Junction 3 M55). The background music was ok.
The previous evening the local (?) bitter was only £2.00 a pint and fairly decent, no side effects. Didn't have any for breakfast however.
Made it back in time for http://www.outofthebedroom.co.uk - what about the Snowy Owls then?
The previous evening the local (?) bitter was only £2.00 a pint and fairly decent, no side effects. Didn't have any for breakfast however.
Made it back in time for http://www.outofthebedroom.co.uk - what about the Snowy Owls then?
Sunday, March 06, 2005
The Measurement of Time
We have travelled back to the 5th October 1997 to connect you all with this particular thought from Ali:
"The measurement of time is the measurement of the expansion of existence."
"The measurement of time is the measurement of the expansion of existence."
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Lyrics at an early stage....
The ideas here are set down mainly to capture a rythmn than say very much, but the structure seems good so we'll work on it, songs tend not to arrive all in one piece, in good shape, ready to go. Allow us some blood, sweat and tears (and wine) this weekend to develop this. Try www.impossiblesongs.com anytime you like, even if you don't buy you can get nice 2min song segments. Also www.mp3tunes.com/impossiblesongs or www.mperia.com/artists/impossible_songs
Long cold winter
The weathergirl says it’s been a long hard winter
Seems no different to me
Music hall faded in my fog of memory
Never said I’d vote for you’re idea.
If your struggling to your feet, I’ve got friends you need to meet
Long cold winter. Long cold winter.
You could die of something along that line
Makes no difference to me
Your action’s consequences hard to find
Right foot down, push back the seat.
If your struggling with defeat, I’ve got friends you need to meet
Long cold winter. Long cold winter.
Long, Cold, Long, Cold,
Stretch your babysitter; come back from the winter,
Make the change to ginger, give us back our bitterness,
Take us to the edge of your success. (nOt qUItE fInIshEd lyrIcs!)
Here’s my Samsonite Kalashnikov
Here’s the remote from my TV
Here’s the rainbow you’ve been praying for
There’s the map to East of Zee.
If your struggling to your feet, I’ve got friends you need to meet
Long cold winter. Long cold winter.
Long cold winter
The weathergirl says it’s been a long hard winter
Seems no different to me
Music hall faded in my fog of memory
Never said I’d vote for you’re idea.
If your struggling to your feet, I’ve got friends you need to meet
Long cold winter. Long cold winter.
You could die of something along that line
Makes no difference to me
Your action’s consequences hard to find
Right foot down, push back the seat.
If your struggling with defeat, I’ve got friends you need to meet
Long cold winter. Long cold winter.
Long, Cold, Long, Cold,
Stretch your babysitter; come back from the winter,
Make the change to ginger, give us back our bitterness,
Take us to the edge of your success. (nOt qUItE fInIshEd lyrIcs!)
Here’s my Samsonite Kalashnikov
Here’s the remote from my TV
Here’s the rainbow you’ve been praying for
There’s the map to East of Zee.
If your struggling to your feet, I’ve got friends you need to meet
Long cold winter. Long cold winter.
A polite breakfast in Elgin
3rd March 0800- Mansfield Hotel Elgin (Scotland). Raspberry yoghurt, fresh pineapples and melon. Coffee (in a pot with a handle too hot to handle!), toast (brown and I only ate half a slice). Two sausages, fried egg, two bits of bacon, mushrooms and black pudding c/w some brown sauce and a small glass of orange juice. Didn't much like the art work on display in the dining room, service was good however and this hotel is nice and warm.
Didn't eat anything at all until I had some soup and tiffin in Aviemore at about 2pm.
Today and yesterday I have seen a lot of snow, some close up, some at a distance.
Didn't eat anything at all until I had some soup and tiffin in Aviemore at about 2pm.
Today and yesterday I have seen a lot of snow, some close up, some at a distance.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
A polite breakfast 3
Edinburgh. Snow fell like snow does, it's very early, I've been up since 0435 and now aeroplanes are frozen on the ground and to it, and I'm in one. Nobody is flying yet.
Edinburgh, 06.35 and I'm sitting on a plane that is going nowhere with it's snowy wings. The captain tells us things will get better once the runway opens. Once it is cleared.
0705, still going nowhere, read the paper, reading a book.
0725, the de-icer truck is due at any moment then we'll be in a queue, once they clear the snow from the runway. Conversations about work, holidays, funny events and more reading.
0745, we must eat a polite breakfast, a hot breakfast which will spoil if not eaten. We must eat it even though we are grounded. No coffee can be served however, only juice, in case of an accident. I eat mine and my fellow passengers eat theirs, quietly as we wait for the next announcement. The breakfast is ok, the weather and the airport are not.
0825, some passengers leave in a herd. Their day is wasted but they have had breakfast. They return to their offices, cars or homes. I'm wondering what to do next.
0905, no queue, no truck, no nothing. Read a book, chat, make phone calls, start to write off the morning.
1000, snow,clearing, de-icer truck has broken down.
1025, stewardess says we can go, I choose to go, we can get off the plane. I ask to go, put my name down, take my boarding card, I will escape. I will make alternative arrangements.
1045, I'm getting off the plane, I'm standing on the slushy steps, but it is raining now.
1050, from the terminal I see the de-icer truck working hard three planes away from the one I was on. They are in a queue.
1100, I am heading for the car park. It was a polite breakfast, shame about the lack of coffee.
Edinburgh, 06.35 and I'm sitting on a plane that is going nowhere with it's snowy wings. The captain tells us things will get better once the runway opens. Once it is cleared.
0705, still going nowhere, read the paper, reading a book.
0725, the de-icer truck is due at any moment then we'll be in a queue, once they clear the snow from the runway. Conversations about work, holidays, funny events and more reading.
0745, we must eat a polite breakfast, a hot breakfast which will spoil if not eaten. We must eat it even though we are grounded. No coffee can be served however, only juice, in case of an accident. I eat mine and my fellow passengers eat theirs, quietly as we wait for the next announcement. The breakfast is ok, the weather and the airport are not.
0825, some passengers leave in a herd. Their day is wasted but they have had breakfast. They return to their offices, cars or homes. I'm wondering what to do next.
0905, no queue, no truck, no nothing. Read a book, chat, make phone calls, start to write off the morning.
1000, snow,clearing, de-icer truck has broken down.
1025, stewardess says we can go, I choose to go, we can get off the plane. I ask to go, put my name down, take my boarding card, I will escape. I will make alternative arrangements.
1045, I'm getting off the plane, I'm standing on the slushy steps, but it is raining now.
1050, from the terminal I see the de-icer truck working hard three planes away from the one I was on. They are in a queue.
1100, I am heading for the car park. It was a polite breakfast, shame about the lack of coffee.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Get your FTMT here, there and on-line
Ladies & Gentlemen,
We at impossible songs are proud to offer the chance of a lifetime, to change your future , your outlook, your finances and your lifestyle. And all for the better. It's all on offer at our FTMT portal that guides you directly to all the stored up wisdom of the universe so.....
Rock 'n Roll down to http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
and smother yourself, your kids, your house, your TV, your deep freeze, your small garden pond that needs a good clean, your Mazda 323, your toasty maker, your desert boots, your MP3 player and your pets in our funky and rewarding ideas.
If that's not good enough then guess what? You can log onto I.Tunes open an account and buy our groovy stuff and cram it into your I.pod , now available in the UK as well as the USA - we've got the sales to make, you've got the cash!! we know it works!! so download our music, YAHOO!!
Problems? try www.impossiblesongs.com get full 2 minute soundclips of all our material or www.mperia.com/artists/impossible_songs or www.mp3tunes.com/impossiblesongs for 30 second soundclips, bloggy stuff, biogs, photos, nonsense, lyrics and you can review us if you like on all our sites.
Anything else is second best, second rate and last week's corned beef hash. So bottle on down and add some FTMT (via impossible songs) to a small, significant corner of your life.
We at impossible songs are proud to offer the chance of a lifetime, to change your future , your outlook, your finances and your lifestyle. And all for the better. It's all on offer at our FTMT portal that guides you directly to all the stored up wisdom of the universe so.....
Rock 'n Roll down to http://fairytalemanagement.blogspot.com
and smother yourself, your kids, your house, your TV, your deep freeze, your small garden pond that needs a good clean, your Mazda 323, your toasty maker, your desert boots, your MP3 player and your pets in our funky and rewarding ideas.
If that's not good enough then guess what? You can log onto I.Tunes open an account and buy our groovy stuff and cram it into your I.pod , now available in the UK as well as the USA - we've got the sales to make, you've got the cash!! we know it works!! so download our music, YAHOO!!
Problems? try www.impossiblesongs.com get full 2 minute soundclips of all our material or www.mperia.com/artists/impossible_songs or www.mp3tunes.com/impossiblesongs for 30 second soundclips, bloggy stuff, biogs, photos, nonsense, lyrics and you can review us if you like on all our sites.
Anything else is second best, second rate and last week's corned beef hash. So bottle on down and add some FTMT (via impossible songs) to a small, significant corner of your life.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
$aving Europe
http://mperia.com/artists/impossible_songs only 88cents a download! And what fantastic quality! And a bit of blogging also, and gigs, and other stuff, and other people.
$aving Europe
A dying breed from yesterday
The heavens opened and took them away
The crows did a fine flying display
We promised to live eternally
The people march then pound the door
The common views are heard no more
Celebrity and trivia run the show
While we lay back, go with the flow.
The Polit bureau face to face
Smile as they conquer, fill each parking space
Their greatest hits, accomplished grace
All bend and scrape to take their place.
You drunken, smoking bastard yobs
Expect degrees and cushy jobs
This country once was run by snobs
Or held to account by angry mobs.
Then with their weapons set to stun
The troops are marshalled in Belgium
They out manoeuvre everyone
And pledge their loyalty to the sun.
Don’t fall in love with just any whore
You pay everything, but she wants more
And take the money from the night before
As you look out the window, she’s out the door.
We’ve tailored you a future bright
With enterprise and shining light
Our yes means no, our no means shite
Believe them or just what you like.
The golden isle, this home of law
The backbone of the planet’s flaws
We gave religion, doubt, guilt and god
We don’t know why, we say “because….”
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