Farewell Unseen Disciples

A soft and controlled farewell to most of the Twitter (X) monsters and also those good people I've been in the habit of following. Turns out that some aspects social media might well be better viewed as a bit of a failed experiment and put to rest. Overall it's a shame things haven't worked out as well as they might have, though I'm not sure what that would even look like. When a downfall happens it's often quick and merciless and a bin fire is a bin fire. I have not yet deleted X but I've consciously uncoupled from numerous accounts that were tedious, unhelpful or that I've come to disagree with. I'll be less likely to visit it too and will now get back to my neglected stamp collection and regular home baking.

Do I feel better for this? Not really, but if something has the potential to drag you down maybe it's better to let go of it before it's poison really starts to work. In other news, for the few remaining years that I'm likely to be driving road vehicles, I won't be purchasing any Tesla products. It seems like only yesterday when that whole thing was futuristic, cool and inspirational; little did I know how it was going to develop. I've also returned my one way ticket to Mars. I doubt I'll get a refund though.

Routine Cat Procedures

In the dimming of the day, the weathering of the weather, the passing clouds of cloudiness, as the seasons slowly shift, delivery people and postmen come and go, traffic rumbles outside, TVs and lights flicker on and then off, fluff floats across a field of vision, the times between meals and other meals moves on, the dull hum of unexplained existence and unknown distant activities: beyond it all cats just snooze around doing something close to nothing, or so it seems.

Moving on from esoteric cat ramblings: this sauce is pretty good.

Also, how cats sleep.

Paw Patrol

Ignorance can be bliss: I saw this vehicle parked up in a supermarket  parking lot the other day. I thought it looked odd. It's not a police vehicle but it looks like one. Lights, livery and maybe even action. How do they get away with that? I did a quick Google and after wading through the usual irrelevant shit Google freely provides, I got my answer (as below). I'm not quite sure what to make of it but ... there you are.

Ancient Apocalypse

 

Dear Mr Netflix Person,

I've now watched two seasons of Graham Hancock's revisionist views on world history. I'm sure you're aware that he proposes that, in a nutshell, a race of highly (?) superior beings somehow survived an "ancient apocalypse" (the flood of legends) about 14000 years ago and set the other more "primitive" survivors back on the track to civilisation by passing on their wisdom and practical skills. In so doing they laid the foundations for the modern world. Sounds fair enough to me but nobody in the mainstream of education or science is agreeing with this right now. I wonder why?

Hancock spends a lot of time picking at pieces of unchallenged evidence to support his theory and I actually like that he's out to disrupt the established view and it'd be nice to think he might be right (and I suppose he just might be) as it would kill off the various creation myths religions have fed us and also explain many mysteries surrounding the numerous huge and ancient stone buildings, ground works and sophisticated ancient structures that are out there. Academics often need a shake up - history does teach us that too. He's maybe just not the guy to do it IMHO.

Of course the format, his quirky victim attitude, laconic delivery and the tedious editing style used throughout the show undermines everything he says. It's flawed and disjointed as a structural piece of documentary story telling, always jumping across time and places rather than going deeper. I thought the old Discovery Channel documentary format was bad but this is even worse. Fictional animations, all slow paced for maximum cheesy drama, false starts and the repetition of statements abound as does a pounding and unsubtle musical score. I did like many of the computer graphics and views of the ancient sites, they were all quite well rendered and watchable and much of the detail was new to me so I'm not totally negative about everything.

You should note also that when GH is in front of the camera, using those weird shot angles during conversations coupled with the style in which he delivers his dry and progressively more unconvincing narrative, the overall experience is quite infuriating. Having said that I willingly watched it just hoping that a shaft of light might be stumbled upon that would perhaps clear up a little of the darkness from humanities history (for me and every other viewer no doubt). That's the whole point of the show. There is that tantalizing promise of red meat in each episode but the actual payoff never comes. So it was an interesting but flawed and bumpy journey. However many episodes spent wading through the snake oil and enduring GH's unblinking stares into the camera was uncomfortable for me. In the end I guess Netflix earned some revenue from the adverts and viewing stats and pleased the community of radical historians out in the left field. I'm done now and can only really say, so long and thanks for all the lovely fish.

Respect and Smarties

Wee John fae Fife (age 69ish)

Slow Wicks

Time for reflection and all that shit: Now the seasonal cruise ships have passed into the mist, there's winter coal to be stockpiled and the nights are fare drawin' in, achieving a reasonable level of physical fitness is back on the agenda once more. The unchained unicorn of well being is chased across gardens and rooftops, over rainbows and cloud castles until it settles on Joe's early morning YouTube channel so that exercise sessions can safely resume, slowly. 

The cats remain a torment and an inspiration but I know I'll never climb a tree or scale a fence with their level of attack and energy. I'll never manage any of Joe's fully adult sessions either, it would just lead to injury and self inflicted pain, the worst kind. Slow and steady and quietly follow on at your own pace and level of competence and confidence is the mantra. "Nice and easy does it", as Mr Sinatra might have sung in his world weary, lounge lizard style. Back in the day I was a long distance, short attention span runner you know. I don't miss any of that.

Goodbye Pork Pie

 

Farewell and adieu to one illustrious pork pie and one that is most definitely not a piece of headwear. I might say more but probably wont. This brief and lightly worded elegy is to a real pie that has now passed. As must all pies.

Teaser and the Firecat

Well there's a nifty little fire alarm and a black cat made from sugar paper. An actual Teaser character image that fits with this cannot be located right now. I apologise for any confusion. No moon has fallen from the sky on my watch either. Things may have been worse but probably were easier in 1972.

I'm currently existing at a critical point of life where sausage rolls disappear, slow punctures happen quickly, ancient history is unraveling before my very eyes (thanks to Netflix) and I may well finally understand the use of the Oxford comma. Stimulation is constantly there or thereabouts.

None of this is helpful I know, not even to me. Tomorrow some poorly named storm is likely to hit us and it's also my birthday but I already have at least one birthday bottle of whisky under my control so there's hope for us all. The cold never bothered me anyway.

Doppelganger Fog

I recently discovered that George the cat has an overpriced Tuxedo Cat Lego doppelganger. I prefer the real thing.

Football: Bo'ness v Broxburn. A rather foggy night spent trying to follow a disappearing ball as it was booted around in the mist at Newton Park. In the end it was an entertaining but goalless draw. Reasonable pies and coffees on sale helped things. I certainly would go back for further bargain basement entertainment. "Top class" football really does suck in my opinion, for numerous reasons. The lower leagues are the place to be, if you're a fan and don't mind standing while watching the struggle.

A moment for some peace and relaxation in the heart of Edinburgh city. Most modern "chain" eateries are some kind of anti climax and eventual let down. The thin rib cage of economic squeezes and adhering to stark profit margins shines through as the foundational thinking behind pushing whatever products they have. Low pay, uncertainty and lack of staff development bring unhealthy benefits that customers can sense in the tension and delivery style. Care and pride has been bred right out of the system in a race to the bottom that we all have some kind of part in, like it or not. OK it's endemic in everything - as I reflect, invariably thinking "what's the point?", so I'll leave it there. Time for a soft reset. Humans screw up too much of what they do. So, still a strangely quieter place than might have been expected on a Thursday lunchtime. Too much moaning in this post though ...

Nearly...

"Nearly everyone has their box of secret pain."

John Steinbeck.

I wonder how nearly this nearly actually is.

Exercises in Randomness

Over the hills and far away, relatively speaking.

Following a brief period of incarceration George, the mighty cat who always knows best, surveys various aspects of his current domain, all from a suitably high place.

A recent dinner, or at least the main part of the meal deal we had from an M&S store. Tiny onions, tiny mushrooms. Very nice. Serves two adult human types.

When Petrol Was The Future

Once upon a time petrol pumps were found on high streets or main streets. A fledgling roadside amenity. Perched on the pavements like drinking fountains, easily accessible for the odd vehicle that might pull up for a refill. The local iron monger or blacksmith might own the set up and sell fuel in between other more lucrative bits of business. Ordinary people didn't really own cars or much else back then either. It was the age of the famous moustache too. I'm sure that there are photos or records of black limos with small boys running alongside them looking for a hidden horse. A world long gone. One with no real health, safety or fire prevention regulations ... we don't want that again.

Every so often you'll see dead electrical switches like this on odd walls, mostly in rural locations, the rusty pumps and storage systems long gone. Petrol and diesel were not the dirty words they are today. We know better now but we don't really because it's all someone else's fault and we're as much the victims and part of the cash/taxation fodder as the third world crude oil workers who's products are cleaned up and sold on to us. Sad to say, interesting but ultimately ugly and over weight EVs shipped over from China don't really do it either. You know they'll be unsupported tech junk in seven years. We just might need a better solution.

Lost in Kinloch Rannoch

We took a wee break off and into the bright Perthshire amber of autumn's passing. The four seasons in a single day magic still happens. Rain, sleet, hail, snow and sunshine passing before us in a single afternoon. Nearby Schiehallion getting a white top as did the further away peaks of Glencoe. Hotel breakfasts, big glasses of wine, comfy beds and all manner of people determined to run marathon distances. The long and winding roads to there and back again made good driving, all reasonably well maintained as if to prove that an independent Perthshire might be a viable thing - even if it's run by a small Conservative majority in the council (?).

And on the subject of independence, the untimely death of AS surprised us on Saturday night. History will not be kind to him, the media, the current SNP lineup and the establishment's own mechanical grindings will see to that. What ever narrow side of things you inhabit never forget the long screwdriver of colonialism's inbred injustice and the power of privilege will always have their sway in this country (other countries are also available for this). Thirty nine years spent in the thick of it, via the military, taught me that, but thankfully I remained a successful misfit and am still able to enjoy this land for what it is (whatever that might be). If I hadn't taken the Queen's shiny Shilling I'd write a book about it all.

 

Nice Artwork

The band "Five Card Draw" has two gigs in the St Andrews area this weekend. One of my grandsons is part of the line up. He's on drums for these dates as far as I know. I like the arty poster for the gig on the 12th. Nice work whoever put it together. I understand that their set will mostly consist of a mixture of genres but mainly jazz/funk, whatever that is these days. Hope it goes well for them.

Evaporation

After the October rains, out comes the sun and despite it's feeble seasonal warmth the steamy late morning evaporation begins. As chunks of the fallen rain return heavenwards, presumably to fall again elsewhere. Almost poetic isn't it? Pearly dew drops start glinting and become exaggerated and visible on the nasturtiums and you become aware that there's a few brief moments of a slow golden peace taking place. Even some of the tougher bees have returned (not pictured as they're the very busy bees, zig-zaging and camera shy) to enjoy the bright morning rays. 

Heat Seeking Snickers

If you leave your Snickers on top of a 100w amp head during a gig* this is what it looks like afterwards. Happily I can report that though melted and fairly distorted by the heat, the Snickers still tasted fine - the next day.

*Leith Dockers, 5th Oct. Unplanned and somewhat unrehearsed power trio line up that could have gone badly wrong but thankfully went rather well. Nice and loud too.

Complex Simplicity Part Two

Even as I slept the complex simplicity concept continued to morph and evolve by generating hundreds of seemingly simple images that still retained their potential for complex and varied overtones. Their meaning so far remains unclear. Some kind of digital cry for help perhaps? I captured a few (as above) but decided to release the rest into the wild so that their transformative breeding plan can continue without the obvious hindrance and contamination of any further human input. My work is done.

Emergency Leith Docker's Slot

We're back, perhaps slightly blurry around the edges but that's to be expected. Another evening of live, common and curious covers that you can dance to, sing along to, drink relatively cheaply to and if you want just talk quietly amongst yourselves to. Whatever you do you'll be captivated as we do our very best to entertain you on October 5th. 8pm at the famous Leith Docker's Club, somewhere in downtown/uptown Edinburgh. 

Complex Simplicity

Complex simplicity: Just when you think that AI artwork isn't really giving you anything new or not obvious, along comes something, some images, that are quite unexpected. There's no recognizable evolutionary path here, no route map. Just something that doesn't quite fit with any prescribed description or instruction. 

"Out of the blue and into the black. You pay for this but they give you that."  The old growler NY. 

McGuinness's

Random Fife history moment: Currently known as the Coastal Inn, previously the Boat, before that McGuinness's -  a pub in Cellardyke on John Street. Old names tend to stick so I still think of it as McGuinness's. It's set into the narrow rows of tightly packed cottages and houses that hug the Fife coast, born of sweet and bitter memories from fishing's glory days, world wide seafaring and military service. My granny's house was a few doors away to the right of this photo so I've early memories of the pub as it was 60 years ago or thereabouts. It was a no frills drinking shop and only men used it in those days. Now it's remodeled as a small pub that does food and B&B in a colourful corner of The East Neuk.

Space Saver

In an effort to move on in the age related battle against skills fade I decided to swap out my annoying slowly deflating tyre and replace it with the spare; a space saver. Years ago vehicle tyre rotation was encouraged and I'd do it from time to time to spread the tyre wear across the axles and so stop excessive damage and repeated stress. Most DIY blokes did this, it was a Sunday afternoon ritual every six months or so. 

Anyway I changed the offending tyre without any real problems and hopefully will get the puncture fixed this week. The strange satisfaction of doing something like this is ... strange. I felt like an old dog catching a flying stick in mid air. Nothing to prove but something to prove. It's finally come to this - unnecessary self capability tests just to show that you can carry out a simple, mundane task (without personal injury or making things worse).