What does this all mean?

The one you love is unwell? The one you love is depraved? The one you love is great (sick = slang/vernacular sick)? The one you love has vomited? The one you love is sick...fed up? The one you love is sick... of you? The One - God? You Love  - because you can? IS sick - Islamic State is a medieval horror show?  The one you love is sick could also be a personal message to a large  woman with tummy ache, or an old fashioned phone or some kind of dark Muppet or cave dwelling toad. If that is you take account of the rest of the image and in that case the building may well have "sick building syndrome" but the owner just doesn't realize it yet. Signed, a well wisher.

Eggs Benedict

Today's bus to Glasgow was pretty full and, in an unexpected move, a person actually sat beside me invading my precious space. He was a large young man, clearly over weight and struggling to move through the bus before sitting next to me in the first available free seat. I was truly worried that he wouldn't be able to easily get up and off once we reached the bus terminus. He did however after a brief struggle to extricate himself from the obvious  tightness of the seat. In my head I was judging him and I suppose making "tut tut" noises to myself. Once I left the bus and the bus station I thought no more about him. Then, strangely as I waited at a pedestrian crossing near Buchanan Galleries the same over weight chap came sailing across the road riding one of the city's bikes. Off into the distance he sped as I looked on, probably open mouthed and dumbstruck. He's still a fat guy but at least he's trying. I'm too quick to judge sometimes. Of course he may have been heading off to MacDonalds to take advantage of the breakfast menu before it changes at eleven. I'll never know.

I also had breakfast on my mind also but not at Macdonalds, it was an exotic helping of Eggs Benedict at a trendy cafe called Singl-End recommended by my beautiful daughter. End off.

View from...

In the ongoing series of views from places, because everything is a view from somewhere, here's today's early morning offering shared late. Not the view from the office or any office, more of a just out of bed on the way to making a cup to tea kind of a view.

Best to keep quiet

I often think I'm right but then discover I'm not right. I discover that I'm wrong or I've missed  the point. On these occasions, if I've managed not to speak up or share it's a rather nice (if empty) feeling that I get. I was wrong but look, I was hesitant or patient enough to hold back rather than go in with both feet. Phew! Today's example was about the colouring code used on safety signs. I had it wrong but didn't blab, what a relief. My so called expertise and wobbly reputation would have been dented, ever so slightly. Growing old and keeping your cool when others may not be is a useful skill, like counting to ten.

Above and below are two pictures I took during the week and they are quite irrelevant to my text and my current line of thought, as are most pics on this blog.

Too much music on too small a planet

A slight epiphany: Me sitting around playing the blues poorly is no different from other white people rapping (or whatever genre they might call it). All the blue notes in jazz and rock are misappropriated as are most rock bass lines. More and more I just think "mediocre", because sometimes all modern music just seems tired out, maybe we need some law that prevents new music from being published (you can write and record it but no releases) for a year or two. The same might well apply to films, comedy sit-coms and box sets. We could do with a few more new ready meals however, I'm not in a complete rut in my thinking.

Ahem! Nothing really new here other than the thought that British Progressive rock, as developed in the 70s and beyond owes the least to the American roots of the major rock genres. That would be King Crimson, Yes, Gentle Giant and so on. So as far as musical structure and lyrical content goes it's almost out on it's own, almost original, as far as anything can be. Of course it was always on a course of self destruction which it eventually managed to achieve and music moved on in various directions but, looking back, they were glorious if self indulgent  times and they are unlikely to ever be repeated. David Hepworth's book "1971" may be right on the money.

When I look at what followed over time, apart from the obvious key mega acts it has been a kind of dull 40 years on. Or is it just me? The end. Wait a minute though, what about Krautrock? Too much music on too small a planet (and no new ready meals ready in store).

31.10.17

Happy 31st October? Just another normal day around here and I'll be fast asleep by midnight. Just ignore any strange lights or noises...

Heavy metal

Nothing to see here, just a man looking like he may have his pants on fire...but they aren't. Just a little bit of innocent industrial grinding going on as the old well cover is removed before being replaced with a newly designed and fabricated cover in Gothic wrought iron.

The finished well cover, painted and fixed in place. Very satisfying for the viewer and looking just a little like some kind of  Steam Punk flying saucer or anti-gravity device that's just landed having stunned the crowds at the Great Exhibition of 1899 as well as killing a couple of sea monsters en-route.

Turning back the clocks

The clocks have changed, a few times in various directions, some changed via a dribble of AI but we are no better for it. It still got dark and then eventually light returned so the process seems rather futile. Perhaps this wont always be the case. Here's some sunny snaps from a German garden and my grandson's well drafted version.

It takes all sorts of gardens to make and keep the world an interesting place. Real and imagined are both fine. Not sure if there is any other kind out there.

Stairways Stare

Porsche Plaza Part Two.

This bright stairway begins with a narrow bottom and ends with a far wider top. The top opening up as you enter the exhibition space and adjust your eyes to all that bright metal and shiny engineering. Designer's tricks are everywhere like corporate propaganda or fake news. Outside it's dull, where you  emerge back into the city's oxygen free atmosphere and there are more shiny metal things moving or for sale. Technology is celebrated in all the spaces, up, down and inside as the metal resonates and drowns your happy wee soul. Then reflect for a moment on the meaning of it all and move on down the autobahn into the crush of traffic that contradicts the dream of an open road.

On Porsche Plaza

It seems that nobody loves Stuttgart, a cold grey, misty city, choked by traffic suffocating road systems, pedestrian madness and no obvious centre. No warmth, no sausages or beer, just chill of the rain and beep beep of blue lighted emergency vehicles threading past the bendy buses. In the middle of the alleged mess is Porsche Plaza, home of Porsche development and build and a gathering place for fan boys, tourists, the lost souls of motoring and anxious wannabe drivers, some even wear the logo (a sure sign of sickness). 

Moving around in the engineered space is quick and easy, almost awe inspiring in a bright and artificial religious way. Design is god, function is the mantra and speed is the ultimate destination. Nothing is fake, this is the real deal. In these situations I tend to become more of an observer and critic than a round eyed disciple so I was happily conflicted. The cafe was too busy and shop was closed for stocktaking, the cars all shiny as religious artifacts or nuclear weapons, buses ferried in more faithful and confused participants as I soaked up the history and worried about my memory and powers of retention. Once your car is three generations old it becomes a classic, the car and I have a whole lot in common now.

The 996 escapes the tyranny of the penciled lines and finds it's true shape.

Daily Planet

Daily Planet, Daily Pallet. Whatever. Somewhere in Southern Germany at a coffee stop. I love logistics (almost), even after all these years.

Future future

Glasgow prepares for the future.

If I'm honest (which I rarely am) I never thought I'd live to see the day that is 22 October 2017. I say that because I never did think of it, not this specific day nor any other really. Maybe I think wistfully about Christmas or some other up and coming event but not much more. Future dates are too abstract, they don't actually exist, like Brexit or a cup final or your 100th Birthday c/w with a telegram from the monarch. This makes science fiction actual fiction set in place that's uninhabitable, the future. So few Sci-fi things exist, we just like the idea that they might. That brings me to Bladerunner 2049 (a year that doesn't exist either). First take the many escalators that lead to the theater, find your seat, get comfortable, take in full experience and refuse to squirm in your seat. No eating or drinking either. A dry mouth helps. Proceed. Bladerunner 2049 is:

A stylish film you probably should see in the cinema.
Not a good film in the conventional sense.
A good film but with a poor script and premise.
Disturbing.
Loud and jarring.
Not nearly as effective and affecting as the first film but ... (three dots are required).
Should be viewed as an audio visual experience rather than a movie.
Bleak - but bleakness seems to play and sell well as this is how we best view the future "future", that way we avoid thinking about it too much. It is something to switch off to.

The future (actual footage).

Last Friday (actual footage).

Birthday Portrait

That's it. 62 years and all's well apart from my ears growing a little too much during this year and a strange banana hovering over my head in a rather annoying fashion.

Water melon man

Up & Go Brekkie? OK, cheating on time, eating water melon in October, part of my so many a day plan and encouraged by my eldest daughter's eclectic purchasing power. Today's been two bananas, an apple, a quarter of a water melon and various snacks, some not so wonderful. That melon hit the spot, chilled to within an inch of it's life red fruity flesh, sliced but not diced and so refreshing even when you don't think you need it. As the rain beats down the central heating cuts in, here comes Channel 4 News, there go the adverts, the melon is gone, nothing changes. The skin stuck into the compost, the rest into me. Tomorrow a birthday comes along with the usual dull regularity, time just cycles by and annoys the psyche and the constitution but I'm for feeling none of that. My lubricated interior springs back like it's ready to deal with at least three figures for an age, I'm just not sure what they are yet.

Unnatural lifestyles

Romania

There's probably a lot of negative things said about Romania and Romanians but today I had a marvelous chat with a young Romanian man at work. He told about his plan to return there once he'd saved up money, how he would work on his family's (small) farm, fix up the house and how he planned to set up a recycling business. Also how to roast a pig for Christmas, useful knowledge. He 's only twenty but full of energy and ambition. Maybe that comes from being born Romanian where it's criminally tough. 

He's a sharp contrast to most of the Scottish youngsters I've recently met (at the same work). They argue about how to stay on the edge of debt, how they might crack the benefits system (?) and seem to have no idea about handling money, saving or actually getting any further education or developing themselves. They're stuck in a rut by their early twenties and whilst I know times are awkward it's sad to hear our young talk as if it's all over for them. They seem to lack any self awareness, life is  a joke and despite all the technology at their fingertips they've no clue as to how to really use it. No business or creative dreams, no idea of using spreadsheets, Word, coding or planning tools, things that might allow them to progress. 

It's a long dark tunnel of life for working class kids in Scotland, a post industrial mess of nothing in particular and no urgency about fixing it. Of course they laugh at me when I suggest trying  different things, getting qualifications or moving on. Something has failed and continues to fail in education and providing aspiration and vision for our kids. Maybe Romania has it's  serious problems but we're not so smart back here.

Propoganda

Ugh!

Kraftwerk Mums: 1965.

There's nothing quite like the slow dawning and realization that comes with a problem in the garden septic tank as it backs up into the house drainage system. Last night was spent mostly peering in the dark into an even darker foul drain that was full of unpleasant slurry. A few bucketfuls were removed and things looked to be improving, Alas by the morning it was clear that things were not improving. A thunderhead of material was building up, refusing to make the perilous journey from the house to the honey tank and, with complete disregard for the surrounding area, messing everything up. When the Dyno-rod guys arrived they effectively cleared the blockage in a brown explosion of air, water and sludge. However further investigations revealed that the tank's soak away bit may not be doing the business. Things are therefore not soaking away, they're just standing still, floating and slowly turning even more unpleasant. By now I'm on my third change of clothing and my fourth change of mind (as to what's best)...time, tides and a lot of murky H2O will tell.

Illustrative purposes

Another example of the common cat and dog thing. This time from a family canine point of view when encountering a strange and stubborn cat. A stand off ensued and after a while nothing really happened.

Mini 4 Sale

The ultra reliable and long suffering Mini Cooper in my life is coming to the end of it's career in the exotic family car pool. Ownership has been a pretty good, funky, fun experience despite all the bad press and horror stories about these wee beasties. OK it's a bit hairdresser and not macho but it's nippy, reasonably economical, totally lacking in useful space and slightly silly. It's also been replaced by the quirky agricultural perfection that is a Suzuki Jimny. Not sure what the hell direction my car ownership is going in but frankly I'm past caring. Must be an age and weariness kind of thing; anything to avoid the homogeneous international hatch back monsters, dealers looking for safe pensioners and seven year warranty fishing lines. All I need is simple predictable unreliability, bugs all worked out and some kind of look that may cause the corners of my mouth to move upwards, even in sodium street lights. So now for a few nervous weeks plumbing the depths of Gumtree or where ever for a likely buyer for the old beast.