Taylor Swift: The Complete Eras Megamix

I'm impressed: But I don't much like the term megamix even though it's an accurate description. At some point I'll no doubt write something critically meaningful about this and the impact of Taylor Swift on things in general, but just not today. It actually has everything. 

More Logs

The up-cycled log store* I built a few weeks ago is now full of logs following a delivery on Saturday. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Part of me never wants to remove a single log from the store. It's quite a big part of me. My brain I think. Fortunately we have another (smaller) log store and also some surplus logs put aside in the shed, so time is on my side for when to I have to decide what to do with them. Perhaps by that time I'll have matured into a better person or suffered some kind of health breakdown where trivial things like logs wont bother me. 

I feel like an evil billions bloke hoarding his log-based wealth that grew from a hedge (fund). Maybe we'll be living on the moon soon, logs will be obsolete then. We'll be burning Tesla batteries instead. I shouldn't think like that. Incidentally the logs are two deep on the shelves and I figured out that there are about 300 in this store, maybe 100 in the other one and about 50 in the shed. That's 450 logs in my collection of logs. Do I have enough for the horrors of winter and what about the smoke and fumes given off by actual burning? Damn. The future is bright, probably lit up by smouldering logs and burning EVs.

*Other garden projects are available.

Deviants

 

A Scottish politician is upset because somebody called him a deviant, twice apparently. He's informed the polis. Something will happen eventually. He might have been frothing at the mouth in rage, he takes things like that seriously being a public figure. He may have led a sheltered life (?). I'm not so well educated but I do know the meaning of deviant. It just means "different, not part of the norm, having different standards etc." Seems to me that's not really an insult either but a fairly accurate way to describe any modern politician. A sorry, funny but humorless bunch in my opinion (on both sides of the border), all hissy fits, posturing and taking the line however ridiculous.

Deviant is quite a useful word. In fact I just might be a deviant of some sort. I'm pretty sure I can quite easily disagree with many of the "popular, populist and woke" opinions that slide out of the orifices of many of the spokes-people who occupy positions on social media and unsocial media too, so I'm qualified. Anyway, who really gives a shit? Above is a photo of the 60s band "The Social Deviants". Writer and journalist Mick Farren was their leader. Back then you could be proud to be a deviant, it was a badge of honour, up to a point.

Unfair World

Simple things too complex for our simple minds: Why did it take so long for some kind of socialism to rise in the world and why does it ultimately, always fail to deliver on it's ideals? It must be a people problem. Greed. Fear. Religion. Maybe all human systems of rule and power are tyranny. Even if we started again with a clean slate it would all go the same way.

Delete the Internet

 

Burn down the mission etc.* I confess that I have just watched twelve (entertaining but ultimately disappointing) episodes of  "The Traitors - Australia". Now I've come to the conclusion that for the most part the human race is doomed. Watch it yourself and see if you agree. I also think this doom will fall upon us sooner than we think. Maybe next week or perhaps later in September, who cares anyhow?  Anyway that's because we're mostly smug and stupid fucks that don't listen, miss the point, are easily distracted and are totally unprepared for the consequences of our own irresponsible actions. Apart from that everything is going to be fine.

So what does any of this have to do with deleting the internet (clearly not a technical term or reasonable option)? I don't know I just like the phrase. Now that the internet drives everything it cannot be deleted ... but we can. If and when everything stops so will the irritating 80's style post punk soundtrack that seems to accompany every media snippet as an intrusive backing track. I'm quite looking forward to the silence.

The doorbell talks to the microwave. The curtains are in a relationship with the light switch. Alexa does whatever the flip she likes whenever. The oven is brooding over the fridge's somewhat frosty attitude. Hive just want's everybody to be cosy so that more deadly germs can breed and that it's masters make a fat profit. There's a Tesla in the driveway that thinks it's the only conscious being in the area or even the world.  Deleting it all might not be easy after all. It's a good thing that the phone is always on the alert.

*This type of post appears on a regular basis and generally adopts a gloomy but slightly self deprecating tone. As you might expect they are written by a benign chat-bot from an open source, most of the time.

Sometimes

Photo by Fife Jammer: When you, through no fault of your own, find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time but don't actually realize the significance or danger of your situation. It's now been more than a full week since the last Friday came around, I can't quite understand what happened to all that time and probably never will.

C A C G C E

 

C A C G C E: Re-tuning a guitar is a fine way to both bamboozle and convince yourself your having some kind of self inflicted nervous breakdown. A major re-tune (as above) can be likened to driving a car without a steering wheel or possibly driving a car without any wheels at all. I'm sure it's good therapy for some obscure part of the brain that would never be exercised in any other way and that eventually a flood of bright, shiny endorphins will descend from heaven like some musical manna bread. 

Of course locks of precious hair may be torn out before anything like that happens as you think to yourself "why would anyone do this to themselves?" One easy remedy is to simply get a slide out and pootle about up and down the neck in a state of  blissful ignorance hoping a tune might emerge. Yes it's really about scattering that five pepper hot chili sauce onto your songwriting's arid wasteland expecting a beautiful flooding accident to occur, and it just might. It's also proof of how bad life long influencers Lowell George, Jimmy Page, Ry Cooder and Nick Drake turned out to be; in a good but perverted way. 

Thinking of Lisa

Tried the tricky game of on-line Clone a Lisa, didn't really work out well. Single figures % accuracy isn't impressive. It's been that sort of day so far. Clearly my skills reside elsewhere. However it could be retitled as Peppa Pig's Ghost.

Unexpected Bundle in the Amazon Area

Quite why a guitar chorus pedal and four five litre containers of white vinegar should be bundled together on Amazon makes no sense to me but there you have it. I've been offered this deal at least twice and have successfully managed to resist buying it. The world of on-line retail has it's own quirky rules. I can't think of any pattern of past purchases that might have influenced this either.

Age Related Ineptitude

If you can't quite work the coffee machine nor comprehend those simple pictorial instructions designed for idiots, if you struggle with digital work station technology for recording music (just getting it started even via the "quick" instructions), if touch screen devices seem to have a life of their own when you oh so carefully touch them, if you yawn during an important conversation and so render yourself deaf at the vital part, if you miss the point more than you get it, if you giggle at trivia, if you seem to fall into a succession of Darwin Traps then ... you're probably OK but ARI (Age Related Ineptitude) just might be headed your way. 

There is no actual cure for ARI (apart from death) but there are numerous self soothing treatments, all of which are bad for you apparently. Popular society and culture might describe these treatments as vices but hey ho. When you're befuddled by the world then relax, have a cigar and a dram and cuddle a cat; if you happen to have one. Also speak to your loved ones, they won't mind you droning on and on about the complexities of nothing in particular ... then simply sit back and cover your head with a copy of the Financial Times (proper old school).

Koln Daily Photo

Stylish photo images from Koln captured and taken by LB a few weeks ago. Nice.

For no particular reason this Jackson Brown lyric has been in my head today (well yesterday by the time this is posted). Today's inside the head lyric is "Metal Guru" 😏. There's no clear explanation.

I'm going to rent myself a house
In the shade of the freeway
Gonna pack my lunch in the morning
And go to work each day

And when the evening rolls around
I'll go on home and lay my body down
And when the morning light comes streaming in
I'll get up and do it again, Amen
Say it again, Amen

I want to know what became of the changes
We waited for love to bring
Were they only the fitful dreams
Of some greater awakening?

I've been aware of the time going by
They say, in the end, it's the wink of an eye
When the morning light comes streaming in
You'll get up and do it again, Amen

Caught between the longing for love
And the struggle for the legal tender
Where the sirens sing and the church bells ring
And the junk man pounds his fender
Where the veterans dream of the fight
Fast asleep at the traffic light
And the children solemnly wait
For the ice cream vendor

Out into the cool of the evening
Strolls the pretender
He knows that all his hopes and dreams
Begin and end there

(Ah the laughter) ah, the lovers as they run through the night
(Leaving nothing) leaving nothing but to choose off and fight
And tear at the world with all their might
While the ships bearing their dreams
Sail out of sight

I'm gonna find myself a girl
Who can show me what laughter means
And we'll fill in the missing colors
In each other's paint-by-number dreams

And then we'll put our dark glasses on
And we'll make love until our strength is gone
And when the morning light comes streaming in
We'll get up and do it again
Get it up again

I'm gonna be a happy idiot
And struggle for the legal tender
Where the ads take aim and lay their claim
To the heart and the soul of the spender
And believe in whatever may lie
In those things that money can buy
Where true love could have been a contender

Are you there? Say a prayer for the pretender
Who started out so young and strong only to surrender

Say a prayer for the pretender
Are you there for the pretender?
Say a prayer for the pretender
Are you there for the pretender?
Are you prepared for the pretender?

Written by: Jackson Browne

Album: The Pretender

Released: 1977 etc.

Whisky

 Irish whisky, from Ireland. 

Seen here in a mostly natural setting, the warm inner glow calmed by misshapen ice cubes slowly splintering and melting. The scene whispers "do not disturb" with no hint of accent or irony. No disturbance comes. Well maybe the odd intrusive thought, I'm not quite on top of that yet.

Everything is equally insignificant and significant all of the time. I can say that easily as I'm not a religious man nor am I a philosopher. There's no audience. I don't serve him/her upstairs or a rogue voice inside my head either. I'm not a drunk or a whisky geek but I have wobbled at times. If it comes along I'll drink it but I'm unlikely to go out a search for it. That's never a good sign of being OK.

I think that it's an easy relationship at the moment but one that I realize can become complicated. I could be wrong. So Irish whisky is good, a nice drop and there's still room in my world for the traditional Scottish as well as American and Japanese brands and any where else that can be bothered to make it.

Quick Response Code Art

Of limited interest I know, the dull QR Code. Art that's also functional. It can take you and your device somewhere that might be useful or not. This one goes to ... you'll have to scan it to find out. Please ignore the T Rex. Actually I don't know why he's there but he may be a vital part of the code. Below we have an obvious non-functional fake quietly masquerading as art.

Unlikely Doppelgangers

Doctors and scientists are pretty much agreed that one of the first signs of madness in a man of some reasonable age and experience is that you begin to think that one of your cats might look a bit like Sophie Ellis Bextor. Nothing against Sophie here or her looks or her singing career, she seems like a nice person etc. but I'm not really a fan. It's just that I think Georgie, a male kitten of ours does strongly resemble Sophie in a feline way ... at times. Obviously he doesn't sing yet and is unlikely to, I imagine. So that's the end of that. Yes I know that the photographs don't really work either, but somehow I lost the will to carry out any further research or photo editing.

This Sporting Fife

 

Busy "sporting" weekend, yesterday it was Dundee Utd v DAFC. Obviously I'm part of the away support watching two actual sleeping giants of Scottish football whilst eating a reasonably good pie. Sadly both teams are sleeping in the lower leagues at the moment and likely to remain that way for a few seasons. Naturally we should have won being one up after sixty minutes or so, however they got a last minute equalizer in the ninety fifth minute ... so we wuz cruelly robbed in other words.

Today I attended the British Touring Cars races at Knockhill (in my best wellies), also the Porsche Carrera Cup and various other types of wacky races. There was mud, blood and a few spills across the track. It was wet and windy one moment and sunny in that awkward thundery way we seem to get these days, so that made all the racing pretty exciting and eventful. It's the second time this summer I've been up there to spectate and for those over 65 it's a pretty reasonably priced day out if you like sniffing petrol and being deafened by high revving engines. A proper guilty pleasure I suppose these days (and you can easily over indulge in coffee and doughnuts as the cars flash past).

Gimme Shelter - Mick Taylor

From the archives: Just stumbled upon this bootleg live version of Gimme Shelter featuring  Mick Taylor in full flight with some incredible guitar playing here. He's in his prime at this point and of course Keef is keeping the rhythm steady as a rock. One of the best live anythings I've heard; 1972 Philadelphia. Funny how every so often I get a small, unexpected burst of enthusiasm for something like the Rolling Stones's music. Of course they fall into that most random of categories known as "lifetime soundtrack".

Once inducted into this ungodly place then in my head I share residence with just about anything remotely musical that's been encountered on a regular basis over the last 60+ years and gotten under my skin. Whilst it can be an indicator of quality it can also be seen as a triumph of perseverance and banality. Examples may be spontaneously hummed upon waking up in the morning or mumbled tunelessly in the shower. This track is certainly one of the better ones, rising high above toothpaste commercials, bubblegum pop, EDM and military brass bands.

AI Burnout

The end of civilization is not quite nigh: Following on from my overblown and completely incorrect "imminent AI collapse" predictions, nothing at all actually happened and things quickly didn't even have to return to normal because, blah blah, exactly nothing has happened ... yet. Thankfully relationship issues with the crows have calmed down a bit too. A most likely unrelated Bird Buddy matter.

Edinburgh Daily Photo

August: A sunny day in a festive Edinburgh. Crowded in the traditional, sticky and awkward festival way. Performers, tourists and facilities people everywhere, no space on pavements, traffic and the rest but it actually wasn't too bad an experience. I expected to be grumpy and uncomfortable but ... not really. Everything was fine and nothing was actually on fire.

I'm almost mellow about attending the festival city's annual binge but I'm unlikely to hurry back, a day there is quite enough. It feels like passing some weird assignment or test, set by the gods of art and entertainment with their grotesque drama masks, exceptionalism and elaborate gestures. A test that I was dreading but bungled my way through then quickly sprinted out of the exam hall doorway. I'm maybe more of a quiet art gallery kind of person I think, or enjoying a warm pint of beer in a cold pub.

Cigarette Soup

 

Sympathy for the cigarette? Not really. Too many untimely deaths and misery, I like many others have some bitter personal experiences. An unhealthy curse upon our world, though an occasional calmer of nerves and bringer of solace from the outside world while sponsoring an array of grateful sports. We all know of the strange, almost drunken tranquility of a puff of tobacco smoke being sifted through your being. 

However who could ever resist a steaming (?) bowl of nicotine and litter soup served up on such a divine platter as this? This alfresco meal is currently freely available somewhere in the heartlands of South Queensferry by the shimmering and vaguely sewage tainted Firth of Froth (sic). Here where we have a quality of life that is mostly good but actually quite tricky to measure, very much dependent on your current mood swing cycle.

Pimp My Cheeseboard

Great boards of cheese: Cheeses (anonymous, exotic and otherwise), stuffed chilies and peppers, olives, honey and figs. Perfect. Excuse the acute angles and the general incorrectness of things. I was completely sober at the time wishing that I was a bit hungrier or drunk. No AI was involved in the creation or consumption of this image so I've nothing to apologize for either.