Tentsmuir Daily Photo

 

I've heard a lot about Fife's Tentsmuir forest and dunes but never visited it at all until yesterday. I was born a (longish medal winning) stone's throw away but never ventured into the dark woods. It's a serene dog walker's paradise albeit I was without a dog. Bikes and Spandex pants are quite popular here too. What a time to be alive. The October weather didn't disappoint and the trails and the landscape looked great and (thankfully) pretty empty of other people, the scourge of a good walk. 

The smell of pine hung in the still air and it was nice to breathe in what seemed like very clean lungfuls of it, filtered by the sea breeze and the wafting branches above the path. Quite why there are two iron girders sprouting up next to a tree (above) I've no idea. There's clearly been other activities going on in the past.

A redundant WW2 observation station is still a useful spot from which to observe. Never forget that.

Looking north across the dunes to the distant silvery Tay and the Angus hills, maybe.

South Queensferry Daily Distortion

 

As usual there are a number of daily Matrix glitches taking place here in SQ. Sometimes things just shimmer and shudder and disappear and then reappear. Of course you have to be paying very close attention otherwise you'll miss these moments. It's all in the eye and the mind of the beholder. You need to be careful not to confuse the real and the unreal. If you can catch the eye of the pavement dogs and check on the visible codes. This doesn't work on humans.

Colours

 

Blue is the opposite of orange. Red is the opposite of green. Yellow is the opposite of purple. If you can't quite see or think of colour this way then hopefully this might help you enjoy ... colours. The design and construction of the above colour wheel device was carried out by my better half. It was deliberately photographed in black and white(ish) because that's the sort of thing we do around here.

Someone of Little Importance

Our hopes and fears are pinned on the investment sector looking kindly upon us. Some say that growth is good but are we using the correct measures? A confused government stirs like a waking toddler with a full nappy.  They point to a non-existent anti-growth coalition that seeks to undermine their plans. Those plans are for grim worlds of keyboard tapping and screen wiping and swiping that creates great vistas of prosperous landscapes that only leading to bleak horizons that that we cannot so easily avoid. Less regulation means more criminals. Some see this all as a muddled vision. A trap. There is no actual direction*. 

* A lengthy footnote describes how our new ruler was wearing what was said to be a "cruel suit", one that had associations. She wore it for a specific purpose, to send a message. When the speaker stands in her cruel suit the people are braced, ready for a push, an insult or a slap, perhaps some more discrete punishment. There will be pain. Will she declare that concentration camps are to be set up? That everyone must be single minded in this? That there are "others" who can never fit in? That those with different ideas are not to be trusted? That she knows what's good for us and what's best for us? Is truth important?

Another view was that she was advised the wear the suit. She was unaware of it's connections or history. She just accepted the decision of a director who "knew about these things". It didn't dawn on her that she was being played. That she was just as much of a puppet as everyone else in the room. She is a nobody, an empty vessel, a nodding donkey lacking the wit and imagination to see the real situation, to see the grinning shadows stalking in the twilight, there behind the bright proscenium archway. Her imagined glory is just a pack of lies that they maintain, an image made to be broken once it's useless to them.

Studio Time

This week we're in the studio. When I say this week I mean for a few days that are naturally occurring during this particular time period but not seven days. We're actually recording music and working things out ... slightly after the event. So far it's been really good fun and a great opportunity to catch up with equipment, effects and processing developments as well as deep seated inner demons. I quite enjoy the paradoxical worlds of anxiety and tension versus rewards and unexpectedly favourable outcomes that the process provides. That being the lows and highs, basses and middles found in the circumnavigation of a world of sonic possibilities.

Perpetual Revolution

Let's just go with the concept of a relentless, perpetual revolution running constantly in the background until by defying the law(s) of averages we get not only the revolution we want but the revolution that we deserve. One that destroys the religious myths, class stereotypes and economic delusions that ruin things for everyone. But if you still need to follow a religion it'll be tolerated 😉. Some might even decide to construct a golden age from the girders,rivets and scrap metal god makes available to them. 

Sorting Out

The prospect of recording some music looks to become a reality in the next few days, so some (almost) last minute checks on instruments and equipment has become necessary. We'll be going mobile and into an actual studio. Obviously I've no real system for this other that footering about with tunings, switches and fiddly bits in order to make sure a) they are working and b) I can remember how they are supposed to work. Thankfully it didn't take too long, I'm lacking in the geeky and patience genes plus a few basic skills. My preparations are of course less than water tight. I'm confident that I haven't thought of everything, a fact that makes the whole enterprise a lot more entertaining.

In Search of Tom Bombadil

 

As it's the 1st of October I decided to try to search out my old friend and imaginary travelling companion Tom Bombadil. Tom is still reasonably upset about being excluded from the LoTR FILM due to time constraints and "not really adding much to the overall narrative". You can understand why he's gone to ground. "At least you're a Lego figure in the game," somebody said. I don't think that the honour of that counted as much compensation for him. Anyway a few years have passed so I thought he must be close to getting over it by now, surely he's moved on.

He is also a bit forgetful and easily distracted so perhaps he's OK with things. Of course you should never underestimate the emotional depth of those who are immortal or outside of time or whatever. Their pain can be something that defines them significantly. Turns out he's still not ready to surface. Still pretty pissed off. My trekking shoes from ALDI will have to wait a bit longer for their first sizable outing and explorative challenge.

I wonder if he'll make some kind of appearance in Amazon's Rings of Power. That might help soothe the hurt. Maybe even just a "walk on". Then again he may not be so happy with this particular adaptation.

Aldi Trekking

 

"Not in those shoes you're not!"

Aldi Broxburn - Base Camp Diary: I'm on a trek thanks to my new trekkers, they're for trekking. Rain, wind snow, sleet, shopping bargains, I won't be beaten by the elephants. The poor weather didn't stop me, I'm in the brand new aisles of the local Aldi. A spacious tin cathedral for the cost conscious shopper, sparking clean and open to the general public and the great unwashed. It's the traditional treasure hunting experience and I'm fueled by a Greggs roll in sausage, a latte and a grim sense of purpose. In the end I left with coffee and biscuits and some yogurts. The trekking shoes were something of an after thought but now I have them I'm headed for the hills, weather permitting.

Magic

Observations by other means: The use of special "fantasy sensitive" glasses or lenses gives Toadstool Town Two a slightly different look. It does appear to be something like a showstopper entry on Bake Off but perhaps that's simply the powers of suggestion and illusion along with the general magic of the mushrooms. It all runs in the background here and on into other parallel worlds.

Post sponsored by IKEA. Thank you.

Toadstool Town Two

 

The great grey tendrils of fungi brain reach across the garden. The signal traffic can be quite intense. The instructions, garbled electricity to dull human ears ring crystal clear in the darkness of the damp soil. "Toadstool Town must be rebuilt at all costs." And so it was. It is futile to resist the gentle commands of the fungal consciousness, it's complex network silently running the world of Terra Firma as we idly pass by above, oblivious and unaware of it's power and intent. As the destroyer of Toadstool Town One I have to confess to a deep sense of guilt. I'll not be making that mistake again. I'll sleep better tonight knowing that TTT remains intact. I'm not sure what they are planning for the next stage of the project. I'll keep you posted.

Wingnut Collection

 

A few completed DIY projects have left me with a surplus of useful wingnuts. I've never used the term "wingnut" as an insult and don't intend to but people do. Anyway here are some handy definitions:

Ideological extremist from either side of the political spectrum who unquestioningly repeats any and all propaganda and/or conspiracy theories propagated by their side of the political spectrum, no matter how unlikely.

An eccentric driven by religious fervor to take on unusual or irrational social or political opinions without care that other members of society consider them off balance. The extremism of these people's faith is proof to them that they are right.

Some crazy dickhead.

A shaped metal (threaded) nut that can be easily turned with the fingers and used to anchor bolts into wood or other material.

Aberfeldy Daily Nonsense

 

Ducks in a duck pond. No ducks and it's just a pond.

Black Watch Memorial: Once I did belong to them as a junior, more than fifty years ago. That's a long time by any reckoning. The memorial is a lot older.

Strange cake flavours: Blueberry and Lemon, Courgette and Lime. Turns out that too much cake and coffee is not a good thing. They can give you meat sweats and vivid dreams that you can't quite recall in the morning.

I've no idea what the purpose of this is.

The toppermost top of an old staircase looking down.

Aberfeldy might be a Blue Zone town. There are signs and wonders. I'm wondering right now about the signs. Healthy hipster shops and a sense of "community". Anyway it's OK but I suspect a big Blue Zone tick of approval would play well on property prices and so on. Then you can build a wall around it to keep the scabby out, it's about the metrics. Maybe it's more of a light blue. I spotted a few unhealthy looking folks who seem to have slipped trough the net.

I'm not sure if I consider the Blue Zone movement(?) to be good or to be sinister but that's just my natural cynicism. What's wrong with promoting areas of the world where people are happier, live longer, are more environmentally aware, eat healthier, live healthier and so on?

Wild Tales

 

The builders are back this week knocking lumps out of the back garden. It'll be fine by spring. Our cats are therefore housebound, they don't mix well with heavy machinery and mud. I'm trying to keep them calm by playing Tales from Topographic Oceans at a reasonably low volume. Music soothes the savage beastie etc. I've not heard this in a while and I last saw Yes live on the 10th December 1973. That's a long time ago, long before they all fell out. They were touring this album. Sigh. It's not effective on managing cat behaviour either.

The longer this blog goes on the more it becomes some sort of disorganized historical record of life's snippets, those being mostly  inconsequential and trivial things remembered but not in any great detail. Perhaps they'll be from yesterday or from 1969. One seems as close as the other. I'm an analogue man.

Nothing to do with Jackson Pollock

These are not copies or originals, not even close. Some might call them tributes. Cheap tributes, easily done in a digital world. They are both meaningless and important and for the purposes of nothing in particular a tribute is:

1. A gift, payment, declaration, or other acknowledgment of gratitude, respect, or admiration.
2. Evidence attesting to some praiseworthy quality or characteristic.
3. A payment in money or other valuables made by one ruler or nation to another in acknowledgment of submission or as the price of protection or security.

Edinburgh Daily Covid Vaccine Update

 

Edinburgh, the city with a masochistic appetite for self destruction under the guise of development. The development and flagellation never ends either so the pain is continuously sweet for the planners and iPad holders. Every second street is a construction battlefield of tram works or gas and water repairs. Next comes the fibre optic broadband cable, thereafter who knows? Never getting it right first or second time, the continuous spiral runs amok in the perpetual motion of men, materials and machinery. A generation of kids wouldn't recognise central Edinburgh without the temporary lights, barriers or Heras fencing. We're all just fed up with it.

So yesterday found me in the "convenient" location of Ocean Terminal to get my flu and Covid vaccine. I'm not complaining about that either, the staff were first class and very helpful, so despite the peculiar location and a longish journey from my gaff, all went well. Thank you NHS.

Ocean Terminal is however a sorry sight (and site) these days. A battle scarred mall, under siege by ever present tram-works. A great hall of shopping that once gleamed and buzzed, it's been hollowed out by cultural change and closures to the point that it's more a Leith community hub than a shopping or entertainment attraction. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that but it was a shock to see it, having not been there for about ten years. Me and all the other oldies wondering around, killing time before our needle's appointment were in the majority. Bussed in custom. A grey mass of disinterest and slight confusion.

It needs investment but it wont get it and it will collapse in on itself. The once shiny new flats and surrounding properties also have that washed out look that marks the early stages of city district's structural decay. We're focusing on the wrong things I think. A lot of mistakes have been made and there's a pile of new ones on the way.

I did have a lovely little lunch in a Turkish Cafe halfway down Leith Walk though, on the sunny side of course. Mustn't grumble.

Norman Rockwell: The Connoisseur

This is great art in numerous ways but it was only constructed as a magazine cover, Rockwell's regular line of work. He was seen as an illustrator and not an artist. 

As for the expression on the connoisseur's hidden face? I think he's really enjoying the piece. The "Jackson Pollockesque" art work was done by Rockwell himself as you probably knew. Maybe that's why it's being enjoyed by the figure. Of course opinions vary widely on this, which is fair enough. 

It is a painting within a painting. It also reminds me how little time I actually spend looking, despite all those inner voices of whispered advice that I encounter. Concentrate on concentration.

Royal Family Theme Park

 

Now that the royal family and the deep state seem to have mastered the concept of queue management it only seems right that they should move into the realm of theme park ownership. In theme parks the queue (also for some how to avoid or usurp it) is king (an unfortunate title I know). Think of the potential; great queues made up of baffled members of the general public waiting for hours to view nothing in particular for a few brief seconds, what a business opportunity and potential revenue stream ... and we now know it works. You'll also get a union jack souvenir wrist band.

Shuffle towards the promise of thrilling rides but without any thrill, just a vague sense of pointlessness and the smell of polished wood. Those dullards will happily form an orderly line for any crap or potential piece of titillation and it's such a British thing to take part in. They'll pay for it too, all that's needed is some vague or suggested royal bit of patronage, perhaps some cheap slabs of memorabilia on display and you're away. 

Possible sites are; somewhere not too close to Windsor (but still on the M4 corridor) or maybe in Norfolk or the West Country. Forget Scotland, the North(?) or Wales, they're too remote and filled with ignorant, beer swilling cretins mostly. No, we'll keep it in England where it can flourish thanks to generous Russian slush money and lumps of untraceable charity funding. A royal commission will explore the options and ultimately run it under some royal charter or other so we can screw over the staff and patrons easily. 

The word "royal" has almost magical properties in the UK as far as the common people and tourist types are concerned and should be used whenever possible, it tends to shut up and out any criticism or negative observation. It also ensures a massive buy in from TV and the press in general. Proof that they'll swallow any nonsense and serial gas-lighting and gladly pass their approval and vacuous comments onto the public. It's a sure fire winner and thanks to some obscure Act of Parliament pretty much tax free for our royal masters.

Fun for all the family at Windsor Land where mundane reality quickly transforms into an expensive and warped fairy tale of family feuds, greed, privilege and non stop posturing. You won't want to miss it.

 

Cat of the Day

Monday the 19th. Nothing much happening today, a few shops closed, people milling about, occasional buses grumbling by. The weather is decent enough so I can't complain. Might do a spot of gardening. I wonder if there's anything worth watching on TV?

News Maggots

The problem with news is there is a lot of it and that it has to be edited. This is understandable of course, we can only absorb so many facts and diverse situations and as there is so much news out there somebody needs to manage it. It's no different from writing history, which is actually the same thing as news. It's also liable to be distorted, exaggerated or hidden. Anyway I'm full up of news now, full to the brim. I have no spare capacity for new news or indeed new history at the moment. I'd therefore be grateful if people would just stop doing possibly newsworthy things for a while and also if media editors could prune any emerging news down into small truthful and relevant chunks that the average person might digest easily. 

In a leap of pure imagination I have coined the term "news maggots". I'm unclear who the news maggots are or who they work for but I think they probably do exist. They also may think that they are doing a decent job; if supporting failing royalist regimes, dangerous business practices and toxic governments is a decent job. In conclusion not everybody in the news or the media is a news maggot, that would be ridiculous but clearly there are some in there. I suppose there are also media maggots, entertainment maggots, war maggots and industry and economic maggots too. It just goes on. Oh, I just remembered that news maggots have little brothers: badly informed opinion maggots.

How artificial intelligence sees the UK media's finest.