Friday, November 18, 2011
Impassive aggressive
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Books & Demons
It was as if some occult hand had gone through every book, turned every page, checked every genre and then shaken the entire library violently. Some of the bright and randomly placed volumes were scattered in the process, some landed on the ground pages opened, others stayed upright like soldiers refusing to fall in battle. The sorting process continued in this way for some time. It was clear that a great mind was at work and that a higher, loftier purpose was being acted out. I was on the edge, a spectator, only hoping that by the end I'd be able to quickly put my finger on whatever publication I was looking for. “It's a big machine and it's working.”
During a lull in the maelstrom I was able to reflect on the act of reading itself, for me, an unfortunate cross between an illiterate, irreverent and a lazy being reading sometimes is unattractive. Bad eye sight and Poundland readers don't help either. I cannot imagine myself coming home thinking “I really must read some Robbie Burns” or “where is my copy of Ivanhoe?” or even “when can I find the time to browse a few more of Shakespeare’s sonnets?” Some people must think like that. I do like the odd biography, Sci-fi or even (the lighter) self help books, BBC news and the Sunday papers but that's not serious reading. When I was small I used to like reading the ingredients of tins or containers, I also liked knowing their volumes which for some reason I'd try to compare with car or motorcycle engine sizes, “so that's what 100cc looks like.”
So now we are organised and I feel a deep inner peace, the universe has moved and I have survived but this may not last, all feelings form up into some kind of circle. Once you know that life's not so bad: anticipation, expectancy, planning, delivery, pleasure, relaxation, guilt, remorse, self pity, inspiration, anticipation...etc. You're never much more than a few steps from a good bit and time and experience can make the negatives tolerable, at least for a short while.
All these smart books got to me, entering the grey matter and while I was sleeping I was visited by the demon Chorozon aka as “the demon of the abyss”. He seemed to know a thing or two about my internal psychological processes and offered a few bits of constructive advice as well as insights. Anyway he was telling me that as he is the last great obstacle between the adept and enlightenment, it would do me no harm to prepare to meet and challenge him so I can move beyond that great gulf and into the greater cosmos and so on to the fictitious universe of Douglas Adams or somewhere (I lost the thread as it was 3am, why don't demons come along when you're in a good mood and maybe just having lunch?), all useful stuff to know. His price seemed fair; £666 in twenties (rounded up) and a small amount of blood and reasonable but limited public humiliation, I'm considering my options.
One demon I'm not so keen on is Lilith, she's a Jewish or Hebrew demon. She looks like quite a nice woman with red hair but being a demon has no clothes on most of the time and has bird's feet for some reason. I thought she looked a bit creepy in an esoteric way but she did have a nice sounding voice. Not sure what her powers are but she got some bad press in the Bible it seems, that was about 5000BC. She also had a snake wrapped around her, writhing, flicking it's tongue and looking menacing. Not many blokes are going to go for that look. The birds feet were also a bit off putting, I can't imagine her in stilettos but at a pinch they might be ok in a nice stir fry; tasty as chicken?
Islam has a few demons as you might well imagine, they are called the jinn (they don't merit a capital letter of their own either, a bit mean). Apparently they roam about in the unseen or unknown bits of the world, they can see us but we can't see them, a bit like being on a bus I imagine. Anyway I don't think they are very happy, Islam isn't a religion known for tolerating outsiders so all the jinn are condemned as the “smokeless bits of fire” who presumably cant even get into a pub these days and soon wont be able to get in a car either. One thing to watch is that a jinn can enter into you (only the better ones do this) if Allah allows it. That fact does set up a number of questions about the nature of Allah but maybe it's best not to go there. Oh and they can also, when they are not being invisible smoke, take the form of black dogs and snakes (no particular snake colour noted there). Nobody really knows why they do this. Good to get your head round the finer points of the world's religions, where would we be without all this collected wisdom and useful advice?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Moon over flame
Monday, November 14, 2011
Pimp my Billy
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Transcendental mediocrity
The daily windmill
Friday, November 11, 2011
Let's not talk about testicular pain
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Before glory goes humility
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
Bristol Daily Photo
Eventually I made it to Bristol where large mirror balls are used as fire escapes. I'm not quite sure why, it may well help the emergency services in some way or it could be the architects were just having a laugh. They like to have their little jokes and you won't know about them or recognise them as you are not in their secret circle.
At night they switch on special lights that turn ugly buildings into ugly lighted up buildings. On the right is the IBIS hotel, the rooms reminded me of submarine (U Boat to be precise) accommodation, the shower is a large oil drum hollowed out and the tiny white beds are from a Romanian day care centre. You can pee anywhere in the bathroom area and not miss the drain (I can't really elaborate on that), quite an achievement in room planning and people management; nice to see many diverse needs being met in peculiar ways by facility layout. Breakfast was Actimel, Marmite, a large West Country sausage and really hot coffee, all for £67. Bristol I love you and I shall return and wake up in good time this time.
Monday, November 07, 2011
Logged off
alisongraham Ali Graham
Sunday, November 06, 2011
The sun up close
Saturday, November 05, 2011
Images with not much text
Friday, November 04, 2011
Incontinence: is it all in the mind?
Thursday, November 03, 2011
A difficult year
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
One more cup of coffee
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
In between furniture moment
Monday, October 31, 2011
Potential Energy of Collapse
Standing close by to Wilder's works is a strange and frightening experience. But then not as strange and frighting as walking across 2km of Yorkshire cow pasture to actually gain entry to the exhibition - that's how they do things in these parts.
The event ends on the 3rd of this month with an unceremonious kick down which I'd have loved to have seen but there are very obvious space restrictions for these events; health, safety and sanity also play a part I guess. I believe you can view a video of the collapse on the YSP web site after the day and of course if you google Aeneas Wilder there's a whole lot more.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Ninja cyclists of the Peak District
Friday, October 28, 2011
Deacon Blues
At times its good to sing a song to yourself just to get the lyrical pleasure from the words. Steely Dan's “Deacon Blues” works for me and better than best today I learned why they call Alabama the Crimson Tide. It's nothing to do with racial tension, shoot outs or a bloodbath following the call up of the National Guard. It's just American football and an auburn coloured mudslide and a victory that took place some hundred years ago. I wonder if Deacon Blue ever considered writing a song called Steely Dan?
“I'll learn to work the saxophone, I'll play just what I feel, drink Scotch whisky all night long and die behind the wheel. They got a name for the winners in the world, I want a name when I lose. They call Alabama the Crimson Tide, call me Deacon Blues.”
And so it came to pass that sensual and heady mix of deep heather honey and crisp breakfast biscuits carried me away upon a perfect cloud of clear thought and reasoning to place where I could contemplate and create the mantra and manifesto that is set to become the centrepiece of the way ahead for the New Pragmatists. God bless them and all who sail and put their shaky faith in them. I need to learn to touch type and dictate simultaneously so that the rapid flow of ideas and concepts can be fully captured and none of the detail or nuances are lost. That's what usually happens and it all ends as a screw up despite all the good intentions unless the latent power of the lentils prevail. All indicators hint at this being an accurate indication.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
10 years gone
Songwriting thoughts
Tea was...an elaborate menage of boiled up lentils, herbs and spices and the eggs of three hens.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Ancient ritual games
Monday, October 24, 2011
No country for middle-aged balding men
Still life with Billys
Sunday, October 23, 2011
The new pragmatics
Friday, October 21, 2011
What will £500 buy?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Edinburgh Daily Photo #99.5
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Bucket list eggs
Once you've created the eggy spheres cook them in oven or something similar, (don't go away and mess around on the web and forget about them like I did, they need 25 minutes not 45).
No Photoshopping here, these are the real McCoy, ready to be test driven as an early part of my new fast food franchise; McScotch Eggs. There's a branch opening near you sometime towards the end of the decade, don't be late. (Haven't eaten any yet, I got distracted by Nutella (one t two ls) Lawson once again and I'm not really all that hungry, damn you bucket list.)
Monday, October 17, 2011
Edinburgh Daily Photo #99
Still looking East into the October Edinburgh gloom, more puddles and eerie emptiness; seems to me the best way forward for Princess Street is to focus on high quality hotel and residential development, the days of the big shops are over and I'd quite like a retirement flat with a balcony that looks across to the castle.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Colour me perfect
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Pit stop
Pit stops
I couldn’t be bothered with those huge queues at MacDonalds so I just sat there in the busy car park and fired up my lap top. I did that by switching it on which sounds a lot less dramatic. The wi-fi was there for a few tantalising seconds, like an incoming wave and then disappeared beyond the reach of Google Chrome or whatever it was. I thought about rolling the window down but that seemed like a waste of valuable energy. Instead I drove over to the petrol station and conversed with the cash machine as an impatient lady and her small child crowded in on my personal space. Seconds later I was transported into the shop itself and dodged around plump assistants moving merchandise from plastic trays into large plastic fridges and display units. I emerged with a prawn sandwich and two lottery tickets and all my change used up. The woman's cowboy boots distracted me for a while, what was that design? Was it a tattoo? Why can't we just ask people about stuff when they display things or characteristics that are confusing or at least likely to be misunderstood? Surely everybody really just needs to stand up there and explain myself.
About then I got in my car having crossed paths with the lorry driver with the lorry loaded with sheep, I'd been in his wake before turning in, now he was turning out. It seemed to take an eternity to get across the junction but I hate that bang and crunch and jolt you experience when your car collides with another so I tend to take my time and exhibit patience. I drove to next town, stopped and ate the sandwich and went into another petrol station to use another cash machine. I withdrew the correct amount of money this time.
Mystic sparkle
Heating up the tiny Scotch eggs on a china plate, heating them up thoroughly mind you, 200 degrees for 25 minutes; then depositing them into another room temperature plate so they can be safely handled, as if radioactive. The hot plate is plunged into the sink, spitting sounds and sizzles and a ripple of mystic sparkles sweeps across the surface water like molten glass and dribbling gold. You had to be there and yes and no the plate did not crack. N.B. the Scotch eggs in question were laid by French hens. Www.handmadescotcheggs.co.uk
DNA revisited
Scientists in Holland have the sequenced the DNA of a woman who lived to 115, apparently at the time of her death she had the mind of someone decades younger. I wonder who that person was. If this true it does fit in why one or two of my pet theories, particularly the one about Karmic people hopping (aka Barclay's Inner Self Cannibalisation) and the other as yet unnamed one about soul-sneezing. (You will by now have noticed that the Queen, top politicians and captain's of industry and commerce never, ever sneeze.)