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.
Frankly I disagree but I understand where you're coming from. Enforced evolution seldom produces the results you expect. Art will destroy itself, a culture vacuum will strangle initiative, capitalism will erode the very idea of health and welfare and the green movements will destroy humanity in order to save the planet.
Please don't blame the pandemic for things and outcomes that are fundamentally human in origin. We may well look back and yearn for this time of opportunity and the clear chances to make changes that our rulers missed.
"Can you please help us, we really need the Date of Birth field in our data gathering App re-coded so that instead of pulling up a current AirBnB style calendar it shows a simple data field that accepts dates as birthdays, you know the whole 1940, 1950, 1960 thing, please?"
It was that kind of day yesterday, and I burst a tyre (changed the spare myself), and my car key fob went wonky and set off the alarm numerous times, my contactless card failed at the till and I'd no proper lunch. First World problems abound you may say with a scoffing tone and you'd be correct, just don't start me on the traitorous app that I've trying to do actual field work with.
Actually I'm reasonably exasperated in what I consider to be rather restrained and civilised way with project that I somewhat stupidly volunteered to take part in. The truth is hurting a bit. "It seemed like a good idea at the time", a statement I am considering for either a digital virtual gravestone or a series of fashionable apparel pieces I'll release on T Spring or Shirt Genie or whatever.
6.50 am and the sun rises silently over the Seaways Kilimanjaro, a bulk tanker moored at Hound Point that is, I imagine, being pumped full of oil, fresh from the North Sea. I'm newly awake and wondering around the house considering coffee, a shower and an early morning walk and this is/was the view from the window - yesterday.
The sweet, warm promises of the red dawn slowly died away as the day unraveled and a dull grey mist descended in the still air accompanied by some feeble rain. Autumn is proceeding at her own slow, grim but curiously pretty rate. Red sky in the morning is somebody's warning I guess, a reminder that the Covid never sleeps (until it's about two years old that is, weakened by relentless mutation and so it becomes just another annoying but powerful version of the flu).
Our cats (or the cats that we belong to, you can never tell) are not subject to any lock down as far as I'm aware but from time the do exhibit some signs of cabin fever. Can't blame the weather either but it may be something we're doing or even not doing. So they seem to celebrate their frustration by participating in the ancient martial art of ineffective indoor feline kung-fu. The worst possible injury being a mouth full of fluff. Nobody enjoys suffering from that.
Here's the shorter version, or the highlights even.
1. The thinking persons light is designed for you to control your self imposed darkness, however you may wish to manage it via a switch. It can adopt two positions, off or on. There are no other options. Next step would be to discuss this with a like-minded friend using only binary terms.
2. Sometimes, when the internet is slow to provide immediate or vital information or maybe I'm just feeling a little jaded, I simply stare into a low wattage light bulb. It can be a transporting experience. I'm thinking about typing up a helpful pamphlet that goes into more detail.
3. One thing about the so called "Ancients" is that they certainly knew what they were talking about. How have their words survived all the way to today?
4. There once was a time when I do believe I had the knack of arranging words into sentences that actually carried some kind of meaning. Now I'm not so sure.
A famous old Edinburgh pub, near and dear to folkies, story tellers and singer songwriter types and a once regular stomping ground and meeting place for the outlaws of our local music scene. Not sure who took this great shot or how it came to be, somehow seems appropriate in these troubled times. We're all climbing the walls with our fears, contact limitations, restrictions and general uncertainty over so many aspects of everyday life. It's easy to say "man up" and we will but events and attitudes are still determined to grind us down. I don't want that to happen, I want to defy the gravity of the times. I want to climb the walls in a good way. So it's nice to see the Waverley looking spic and span, hope the dodgy beer keeping has improved and the toilet smells have been eradicated. There is an inside stair too if you really need to access the upper lounge bar. You don't have to be clad all in blue either.
Daily photo: Featuring the Jubilee Clock Tower in South Queensferry as RFA Fort Victoria sails by, past the rooftops, under the bridges and out to sea. What happens once she gets there only those in the know get to know. I certainly don't know. I do have some working history with this old ship, I was first aboard her in the yard where she was being built in Birkenhead, before her launch or commissioning. That must've been around 1989 or so, her paint was still wet and she was the first of her class. Turns out that idea, there were to be seven ships in class, didn't go so well. Over the years I saw plenty of action (?) with her in all sorts of circumstances. That part of my life is now long gone, it helped pay the rent for a bit and I'm left with many bitter-sweet and fairly confused memories. That's life in the MoD for you.
I've been wondering for a while if one of the local dogs we see every morning was in fact a small person in a dog suit, obviously acting like a dog and doing so in a reasonably authentic fashion. He or she is very convincing as an elderly husky lazing on somebody's driveway, a regular and well executed performance. So convincing that passing (genuine) dog walkers feed the beast with sausages. This led me to think about "fake" dogs and other beasts in the entertainment industry. Barkley from Sesame Street is probably the most famous (though the actor inside isn't). I wondered what real dog/animal actors made of a human getting a regular gig like that. I imagined Lassie, Hobo, Cheetah, Flipper, Mr Ed and Skippy all writing strongly worded letters of complaint via human lawyers about their status being undermined by so called "human animal actors".
It is a pretty clear case of cultural misappropriation I suppose and I'm doubtful if this type of animal rights matter is taken as seriously as it should be. Humans as animal actors is a more economical and simpler solution and they'll take direction a bit more easily but they will also talk back and complain etc. They do need good costumes so that's possibly a problem.
I've nothing against Barkley as such, I'm just thinking about those poor, unemployed animals out there and how their careers might be going. Please note I've avoided the rather difficult area of glove puppets, ventriloquist dummies and so on, oh, and pantomime horses and cows. Then there's the more complex issue of CGI ... and dinosaur rights.
You may have noticed that garden improvements and outside living have become so 2020ish in these troubled times. Only in the fresh air can we meet and greet loved ones, albeit in strictly limited numbers. So, in preparation for the undoubtedly muted and chilly oncoming Christmas celebrations, I've imagineered a lovely dipping pool filled with Pacific style, warm, clear blue waters without plastic tat, sharks or used floating face masks. Potted plants from the tropics line the edges and tiny, weird fish swim past you and snap up your dead skin and toe nails as you relax in the clear, healing spa waters. There will also be a soft wave machine and mysterious champagne bubbles from sub-sea sources. It's still all at the planning stage but I've no doubt Edinburgh's forward thinking authorities will allow it to go ahead. The actual budget is a bit of a problem however. Further vigorous injections of furlough cash from HM Treasury may be required at key stages in the project.
At the drive-through, the morning after. Somebody hit the button. They're wiping the planet clean, but only up to a point. The chickens are resurrected, as described in the prophecy and written in the ancient scriptures that no longer exist. There's crying, wailing, the grinding of teeth and some determined scratching going on in the gravel where the deep freeze and the hygiene products used to be kept.
Not quite sure which particular religion applies here, you choose whatever one you think fits. They're all bollocks anyway (and if you're offended then ... bollocks). The cattle will be along in a minute or two. I have a great secret recipe for a special kind of sauce if anybody is interested.
Bit of a Chinese, wine from 2013 and Netflix's Boys* blowout of a weekend Saturday night. Quite a lot of external house painting done too (we have an external house as well as an internal house) whilst sucking up as much September sunshine as possible. You know it's been full on when you wake up inside a double bass.
*Actually now watching it live in Season 2, (or we will be come Friday).
Fortunately I completely failed to fall from any ladders, always a threat and some may say an opportunity but I'm far from complacent about personal safety. I did get a speck of dust in my eye, an injury that is so irritating you'd imagine a speck of dust could bring down an elephant or stop a lion in it's tracks (goggles on thereafter). In the scheme of things it's harder to imagine anything so small doing so much damage and creating so much irritation ... OK there's Covid-19, Bubonic Plague, Smallpox, the Prime Minister's brain. Size, or the lack of it does seem to matter.
I stole the original artwork below and, after some thought and perspiration made it slightly better by adding coloured bricks and crazy paving. That's only my opinion on it.
Nesquik: The drug of choice for the over sixties who'd rather not be sixteen ever again but who need to find ways to use up the milk surplus in an overstocked fridge that's a daily occurrence for them and who, from time to time require something different and not in any way wholesome or free from chemicals. Also if you're fed up with umpteen different coffees and fruit teas and all that stuff, then regress, go back, taste the sweet excess of your youth but without all the emotional problems, confusion and guilt complexes.
And another thing: "The Mere Presence of One’s Own Smartphone Reduces Available Cognitive Capacity". Stolen from a Twitter source that shall remain anonymous but possibly the most profound thought I've encountered (and not thought up myself) in the last 24 hours. I'm still thinking about it. There.
OK, it's not really electric and I know that means something else but it's soup and soup powered by high speed gas (was there ever slow gas?). At the moment, as it's cooling in anticipation of that magical "second day maturity" that applies to all Scottish pots of soup, I'm thinking this may be one of my better, possibly best soup concoctions in recent times. Here in our lowland croft with our subsistence existence based around the rival Tesco and Aldi marques, the quality of the soup (when in season) is critical to our strategy of lying low but thinking high. Even more so now that the Covid shit has hit the Tory fan. Survival is key and reasonably nutritious regular food is vital if we are to win out in this war of attrition based primarily around competing elements of gross stupidity and toff schooled biased ignorance. A Touch of Grey? We will survive.
Currently working on a film script, or maybe a novel, perhaps a musical or just a piece of abstract animation using coloured shapes, the working title is: "Why I believe in the alien lizard people conspiracy theory (or why you might as well believe any old tosh because it doesn't really matter anyway)."
Brexit, Imperialism, the British Empire, Colonial history, the class system, privilege and education, upholding the law, human rights, asylum seekers, how they'll tackle global warming, Scottish Independence, the future of the NHS, Covid-19 strategy, Universal Credit, fair taxation, the power and influence of Corporations, the East v the West, UFOs, what they are doing, what they are not doing, what they say they'll do, what they actually did. Don't believe a word of it. Don't let them lie to you.
For totalitarian governments breaking the law is just a sign of their strength and they revel in such behavior as if it was some kind of primitive fertility display. It's a cancerous way of thinking and within their secretive little groups of power brokers they will promote contempt for the law and human rights as a way of progressing towards their goals. These goals do not match those of "ordinary" people nor are they in line with published manifesto or party doctrine.
For those like me who struggle with complex biological concepts, physiological explanations and great philosophical theories about the human machine and life's ongoing experience, I find this rather dated but charming and informative drawing helps my understanding. Pictures are generally worth a large number of words. Having said that this type of illustration has featured in many ways in films and comics from time to time, confusing and entertaining human beings in equal measure. This is what we should be teaching in schools and colleges (said nobody ever). It, like flat earth theory, just might be true, hidden in plain sight.
The track above is an honest and un-doctored (live recorded) version of the song Happy Like.
But...
Porco Rosso. Is a different thing altogether. Flight is however included as a theme and a concept. There may be an unexpected crash also. Strangely we all survive and our lives move on. Flying is of course risky up to a point, you could be turned into a pig or hit some clear air turbulence. In the end there will be a party on the beach, deckchairs and wine and who knows, we might all be happy ever after in some existentially correct way?
People are getting understandably excited about the new Dune movie (available only in theatres). It's a big story, big sand worms and big production values. Everybody will be talking about this except for those who can wait or who don't get it or don't like that sort of thing. I suspect this film may be part 1 with part 2 to follow. Strange little soundtrack links to Pink Floyd (as part of a previous failed adaption), I wonder if it will carry on into the actual film? I wonder maybe a little too much.
