Dancing

Peak Covid creativity here, some timely video and music curation, for posterity and the good of the general public. A rather arty but pleasingly cinematic rendition of the song "dancing". High production values abound in this no expenses spared production. A BAFTA or something like that clearly awaits.

Bus Stop People

We currently live close to a bus stop. Surprisingly it's used by people, their behaviour varies a lot. They wait there for buses (there are two routes, one I know, one I don't) and they also get off there after their journey. I try not to think of them as "bus wankers" but that famous phrase does stick. It sticks even though I have a free bus pass and occasionally when on a bus I'll think, we're all just bus wankers now. It's hard wired. Had I Tourette's I'd be shouting it now. I'm sure that same thought and urge passes through the mind of god on a fairly regular basis.

Bus stop conversations, antics or chance encounters often encroach on our otherwise sublime peace. They seep through the kitchen window gap like Lewis Carroll's fictional, shadowy treacle might do on a warm day. Too loud chattering between strangers, attention seeking rhetoric, drunks staggering about, youths swearing and shouting, seagulls attacking the bin, dog owners briefing their dogs on a potential out of body experience, confused tourists looking for the Forth Bridge, couples snogging in the drizzle, habitual offenders (daily riders who spit, smoke, quaff energy drinks or allow their headphones to bleed), howling bairns, temporary rain shelterers, old people with malfunctioning volume controls and Co-op bags, unfamiliar tongues wagging (Chinese, Weegie, Polish or Proper London), sneaky farters. All human life is there, passing through, at least until the bus finally turns up.

Dumb Cat

He's not dumb, he's just challenged in few significant areas but still lovable. Mostly pooing in the wrong place is the current problem ("there's a right place?" retorts the cat) and throwing up randomly where a fur ball missile is expected but instead breakfast reappears. In this shot he's just been rudely awoken, few creatures can stand this type of thing. You can see it in his eyes.

FFS

For posterity and foodie reference, front elevation and plan view: A constructed and slightly deconstructed fish finger sandwich, although I'll concede it's not strictly a sandwich if sandwiches are 2 x bread slices with the contents between, as it's a bread roll (or bap or bun if you will). As an addition I'd recommend a liberal dose of garlic mayo be applied and enjoyed. 

Neutral food or cat type posts like this act as a useful and therapeutic piece of blogging wallpaper that calms the soul and eases the mind at a time when pretty much every news broadcast or bulletin serves only to infuriate and depress. Obvious really. Back to cats tomorrow I imagine.

People who don't drink water

Filing this in the somewhat overused category known as "things that just never occurred to me". It turns out that there are people who never drink water, ever, because (mostly) they don't like the taste. So what does water taste like and what makes that taste unpleasant to some? Perhaps they have over sensitive taste buds, maybe they've never tried "real" water. Maybe they just want the attention of gagging at a water jug over a meal. Is it some sort of badge of  honour amongst certain types of individual?

I don't really think water has any real taste unless it's tainted or flavoured, or stagnant. Regular tap water just tastes of mostly nothing, well here in  damp and often dismal Scotland it does. It's some utilitarian thing like air or light. It's there and we use it thoughtlessly but regularly. But this is not true for some people as they obviously avoid all oral contact with it. This kind of thing makes me feel like a bit of a simpleton, scoffing food and drink with no thought or actually stopping to savor the actual product. No.

Presumably they wash in it, boil it and make tea or coffee or drink juice but hate the taste of plain water (?). They must be risking their health up to a point, kidney stones, digestive issues, dehydration and so on. Also they are missing how water just hits the spot, cleanses the palate and perks you up in the glorious slough of despond that is a hangover. Coca-Cola does that job pretty well I have to say. How do they clean their teeth? Hmm.

Thoughts for the Days

 

What is art anyway and why does art matter?

Also why do fonts matter?

(Asking for a friend).

Some Choices

Fireplace, paper plane, pizza oven, the tomb of Jesus, geometric nonsense, distorted shoe box, Bessemer Converter, bedroom tissue carton, variations on the golden ratio, oblivion, Turkish Delight, sarcasm: You Choose!

Amazon on Acid

"I swear that big grumpy box is eyeing me up. It wants to eat me. Why am I attractive to cold cardboard carton creatures? Perhaps it's seeking revenge for my recycling or refuse efforts, I've crushed a few of it's mates I suppose, burned others. Either that or it wants to package me up, smother me in Prime labels and bar codes and send me of to an address in Glasgow instead of the lawnmower and plant food that the family there are expecting. Like the Velvet Underground's "Gift". All in all I'm uneasy, agitated and  bordering on total paranoia. Amazon, I quit!"

When Cats Burp

 

Cat contradictions: When a nearby cat burps, all you get is the awful whiff of some disgusting meaty/fishy cat food meal that they've recently had. No apology either. Ugh! Despite that they are still lovable. Also it wasn't them who chose and bought the cat food 😕.

Unmixed Heritage

 

I found out the other day that the term "mixed race" has been replaced by "mixed heritage". No sure how these things happen or how compliance is achieved but fair enough, somebody will be happy. Less offence may be taken albeit the multiple wrongs done in colonial history and it's sporadic invasions are sadly well beyond any kind of retrospective correction. People argue that words and names make a difference (they probably do) but there's always someone who's left behind in these academic and complex rebrandings i.e. older people like me who can't think clearly.

I however, looking back on my family history, am of an unmixed or even fixed/stalled heritage. Bordering on incestuous due to an understandable inability to travel or explore (?), the tiny East Neuk villages I hail from were ignored and uninterrupted by incomers for centuries. Family trees are often close to being straight lines. People married locally and so generations grew poorer, shorter and stupider and so on ... the unmixed heritage model built up pure but peculiar blood and breeding with no mongrel additions or invasive species. We lived on potatoes and herring, alcohol and/or periods of enforced abstinence and temperance. A few convenient world wars helped to steady the number of inbred victims and religious guilt did it for the rest by banning sex as it just might be seen as "fun".

Unnecessary footnote: Our cats (as above) are highly mixed to the point of being feral in all but behaviour. What doesn't kill you makes you strong, or at least it makes you interesting.

Slow Spillage

I quite like the idea of a slow spillage sign being applied to a stream of lava, crawling in slow motion down a mountainside and gradually thickening and burning up the ground it covers. Anyway this is about a DIY road sign spotted locally. A Sharpie written white board on an old black chair warning passing motorists that diesel has been spilled all over the road. 

A short while after I'd clocked this, a wagon from Edinburgh City Council arrived and scattered absorbent material across the offending area. The homemade sign remains on station, guarding the damaged stretch of roadway. Someone, somewhere is a well loved folding chair short tonight and are unable to sit by the kitchen table. Remember them in your thoughts and prayers.

Vague and Absurd

I've noticed that despite appearing to be composed of strait lines in concrete and wood, Dundee's temple of inequality and tone deafness, the V&A, is squint and cock-eyed in a number of places (if you look closely). Not sure if this some formal but informal style, a deliberate trick or just "how it all turned out" due to the vagaries of materials and settlement. It remains an enigmatic building that I continue to like despite myself, interesting on the outside, strangely full of wasted space on the inside and somehow unable to produce exhibitions with any kind of "wow" factor. Like some alien thing it just doesn't gel with the world outside and the city it sits precariously on the edge of. Fife looks on blankly as the V&A's tortured jaw butts out across the Tay with a silent menace.

The latest exhibition, entitled Disco (?) looks for all the world like it was pulled together from the 5th year school notes of some upper class kid travelling around Europe on her trust fund in the 90s. So it's mostly full of privilege signals, absolute pish and chatty tittle tattle ("here's my first ever joint in France etc."). Some might argue that it's worthy of being put out there as a record but frankly there's no connection in there that fits with Dundee life or Scotland's art scene, not now or in the 90s. The days when you could stick Polaroids on a wall along with old DJ flyers and Sharpie notes name checking your pals and call it art have I think long gone.

I wonder how long it will last before the plug is pulled.

Sympathy for the Seagull

 

Seagulls circle endlessly I sing silent harmony (as the they feast on redundant building materials deep inside the skip). Slim pickings among the timber, plaster and plastic. Move on, go over to Burger King or the bins by the fish and chip shop. Live in the civilized wild and forget your great fishing heritage as you scramble in and over the dry land waste. This is no longer your world to plunder, we've twisted it and broken the chain and you just suffer the ignominy of this miserable trashcan future. The humiliation of perpetual skip diving now that life no longer teems in the muddy dark waters.

Do whatever thou wilt

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law: so taking some inspiration from these words I reduced the size of the vid to the actual size it is mainly because I realized that the visuals I'd used had been resized by me previously into odd, slightly incomprehensible or unsuitable sizes. Had I gone to proper movie school or done actual media studies I'd have known this but I obviously don't so I am forced into cheap and cheerful, clumsy recovery action that's probably OK for the time being, as if I could care less.

Space Time Continuum

Encountering the great beyond close at hand: I opened my eyes this morning, struggled into unsteady wakefulness and the conscious world only to see before me conclusive proof that as I slept, once again a great tear has occurred in the space time continuum. I'm sorry but this was on my watch. I must remember not to fall asleep and so allow this to happen. Sometimes I think I take a little too much responsibility upon myself but I guess that's just my nature.

Look up at the stars

I like to think that we invented space-rock before it was a thing. There are other things I quite like to think, few if any of them are actually true but the pleasure I get from thinking them makes it all worthwhile. This is known as "telling yourself stories that you know are fictional or not accurate", it's a fairly common aspect of human behaviour, look out for it as you travel life's highways and low-ways, you'll find lots of examples.

Bedside Rum and Miles Davis

 

I like to get a good rum buzz early in the morning so I always ensure there's a bottle ready and available at my bedside. Rum is both tasty and nutritious, like apple pie and ice cream or hard boiled eggs smothered with pepper and salt (other things I like to have at hand for nocturnal and/or early morning sustenance). Please don't take this nutritional advice as being in any way useful or worth acting upon.

Struggling with confidence when it comes to musical theory and playing out or jamming? This quote from Miles Davis might help (or it might make it all worse).

Self Testing for Covid

Covid testing via the self service mail shot kit method isn't so bad. Dib-dabbing the nose and throat are momentarily unpleasant but doable. I imagine those that get a sexual kick out of gagging will be happy enough and may well order extra tests. 

The tricky part is of course managing to urinate precisely on the "S" for sample mark when only two tiny dribbles are allowed. Control and accuracy are required and it's not all that easy for men of a certain age, not sure how the ladies are managing with this one either. Incidentally I scored a reasonable enough "C" which apparently stands for "Control", I was hoping for a C+ but damn right there, I made it.

Macedonian Goat Pizza

 

Well these are remains of what at one time was a full 360 degree pizza. Now sadly reduced to the cold leftover slices. Not sure about the actual goat content either as I just made that up to make the title more interesting. There may be traces there among the peppers, chilli, red onions and Greek cheese but I doubt it. It was quite tasty. Tea, supper and breakfast.

Touched by the Hand of Rick Beato

It's just an accident of the algorithms but nice to be in the temporary company of the illustrious Rick Beato on our YouTube screen. Clearly he's yet to discover us and to honest it's pretty unlikely that he ever will. Nice when two diverse worlds collide in the virtual reality of fake reality though.

Sometimes life is hard and unforgiving but a hearty, meaningless slogan always helps: today's suggested slogan being "look around and take precautions". This little number knocks "get Brexit done" and other SPAD engineered Tory pish straight into a cocked hat. You read it here first.