Yet again, the week wakes up before I do.

Monday.

Ugh.

{oh, come on - do I really need to post more for you to understand ?}

Who killed my scruples ?

We all have unwritten rules buried away deep down - rules which we decide to live by.

I don't mean important ones like not killing things or voting in every ballot possible but daft things that are quite personal. You know, those stupid things that are far more important.

I have them too. Things like mushrooms being inherently of another world.

Well, today I broke one of them. See, there is a point to this ramble.

One rule for me has always been to give a wide berth to any band or artist featuring a sax player. I'm sure they're good at what they do but, for me, it's always been a thing to ruin otherwise perfectly good music.

Then along came The Zutons and the rule went out of the window.



Sax on every track, welded in amongst the Scouse revival acid-folkrock (you try defining this), and it's glorious stuff. Heck, I didn't even baulk at the jews harp on one of them.

Not a bad track on the album and, for once, the singles aren't the best on offer.

I'm still not eating mushrooms though - they're evil.

This is not a post - honestly.

I'm turning things round for a change this afternoon and having a spell reading other peoples blogs - I get so carried away with working out what to post on mine that I forget there's about a squillion (honestly, it's true) other people doing the same thing.

Between that and starting writing something else (yes, I'm too stupid to quit while I'm marginally ahead) I think it's highly unlikely I'll get time to post this afternoon.

Actually strike that last bit - I'm obviously making a lier of myself even as we speak.

Blogs eh ? Diaries for those who want to do the same except in a less portable, more expensive way. Yet still we do.

The shops love me - I am easy.

Made the mistake getting Tom Waits "Alice" for just £6.99 within a few minutes of getting into town today.

Why was that a mistake ?

Well, I was somewhere between a good mood due to the bargain, and the after effects of finishing the absinthe session at 3am this morning. "Vulnerable" if you want it in a single word.

Ended up also grabbing the Nick Cave "God is in the House" Live/Recording Sessions/Promos DVD and the metal tin edition of the wonderful Zatoichi




In the right (or wrong) mood shops can be a very dangerous thing.

Praise him a little bit more.....

Found out this morning that the Nick Cave solo show in February isn't exactly solo. It's just more solo than the normal ones.

"More solo" ? Nope, doesn't really work, does it.

It seems he'll have a crack hardcore unit of Seeds with him, though not the army that usually ably assists. Sounds like a nice stripped down gig then - room for any solo stuff he wants to do, but not counting out any Seeds stuff too.

I am officially a happy Carpathian.

End of the week roundup time......

Yes, it's those odd little stories usually found tucked at the end of a news bulletin or hidden away in postage-stamp size squares in the corner of the newspaper.

Except that these are mine.

# Thanks go out to the orange one currently living V.F.A. - it was nice that my attempted rallying call in a land elsewhere found another voice to add to mine. Perfect timing. Sorry, I'm being cryptic now too but she'll know what I mean and the rest of you would need a very long explanation. Which I just started writing. Arse.

# Walked into work this morning to be greeted by a colleague from accounts and a murmur of "So, we're losing you then ?" which stunned me for far too many seconds until they added "Noticed yesterday you've lost a lot of weight". Thinking they knew more about my employment status than I did wasn't nice. Seeing the fact I've lost two stone in the last 6 months is a very good thing in return. Nearly worth the moments of panic......

I'm off to harvest some ice for my absinthe fountain and then it's time to chillout and decide why neither "Hero" or "Zatoichi" won the World Cinema Awards last night. It's a scandal. Truly it is.

Feel free to read my story further down the page.

I'm pushing the "publish" button on this before I realise that the points in it make me look like a cryptic, vain, alcoholic film-snob that whores the one decent thing he's written ;o)

Quote of the day.

Action transvestite Eddie Izzard on turning up for the first days shooting of 'Oceans 12' in skirt and heels:

"To get a wolf-whistle from George Clooney was perfect"

Genius.

Blog Fiction #1: Endgame

It was never intended to end up like this.

Jesus, if I’d had a pay check for each time somebody had uttered that I’d not be in a position to be writing this now. Yeah, it’s a cliché and an easy one at that but a cliché is only there because it happens enough to stick. This one had stuck up to its bony knee-caps.

Somewhere even now it was incredibly likely that an assigned lawyer would be sighing under his breath as he heard his charge for the day trotting the line out like a trained dog. It was easy to imagine his eyes glazing over and the face of his watch becoming suddenly interesting as the words hit him for the third or fourth time that day.

To be fair, it may well be the case that some of those bleating the phrase hadn’t intended for what had followed - they were most likely too stupid to have had a choice either way. Their idea of free will would have been to have a thought trek the distance to the tip of their tongue before being extinguished by the lack of planning the journey.

No, screw that whole chance thing – chance is throwing a couple of sixes when you need them, not for things like this. Not for real things.

Then, of course there were those with a little of both. The balls to rise out of their swamp and push for something but without a chance of ever succeeding. They deserved all they got. Cruel but fair. Natural selection catching up with the terminally unlucky.

But this was me. That puts a whole different flavour in the stew.

I’d never intended it to end up like this.

I’m not unlucky and never have been. Damn, that had never been an issue before and I’ve no reason to credit chance with the honour of getting its foot in the door now.

As for stupidity, that was an affliction that caught other people with their pants down and their brain disengaged. The idea of being placed somewhere in a fuck-up of my own making is a stinking joke and, even then, one with a punchline that doesn’t make me laugh.

Counting out the two obvious suspects in a list of two leaves the obvious question though – how the fuck did I get into this mess ?

Every mile driven I could see the lights flashing in the rear view. Bright as the Christmas lights that usually festooned the house painfully framed for me in the view from my kitchen window.

Christmas lights – there’s a sick joke in itself. October to fuckin’ January lights is nearer the mark. I‘ve never considered myself to be the Scrooge type but even so what were they doing with the lights up so damn early each year, training fucking elves ready for December ?

As the less than festive display gradually gained on me I realised that there were a handful of obvious differences.

Fir trees didn’t carry badges, houses don’t holster their guns in plain sight to show their potential and anything decked in fake snow didn’t pack the authority to kick my ass around the block and back should it see fit.

Compared with getting a snot-dribbling carol singer that sounded like she’d swallowed the wishbone whole that year, or having to pretend to be overjoyed at an unwanted gift, this was a whole step up the ladder.

Time to cut the crap of the festive thoughts with some razor sharp decisions.

Screw it, in a jam like this I’d take a blunt half-baked thought shoe-horned in where it’ll fit.

If I don’t floor it, giving them a gilt edged reason to take my tyres out, I figure I’ve got maybe five minutes tops before they’re close enough to see the beads of sweat starting to build on the back of my neck. From that point it’s going to be a bit late for spontaneity so I’d better start piecing my story together.

Driving in the dark and watching the road ahead is ok. Keeping one eye in the mirror and one finger flicking through the file in my head marked “Smart-Ass Excuses” is hard. About as hard as the one time I’d tried playing Twister with baby-oil as an added hazard.

Shit, that’s one fuckin’ memory I don’t need distracting me now. Other times it would be welcomed but not right now. If I can get out of this I’ll make sure to kick back and enjoy it. Let myself wallow in it for a while in a smug manner. Man, this must be a tight call – where the hell did “if” come from, I mean when I get out of this.

Three or four minutes. This is like watching the bullet head for you with your finger on frame-by-frame.

Maybe I can just lean on the gas a little, enough to keep the status quo. Don’t make it obvious I’m doing anything out of the ordinary. Heck, I could even touch the brakes for a moment, hit him with a red glow and lull him into thinking I was watching my speed and not trying to head it away.

Come on, think, you dumb bastard, that’ll just bring him nearer.

I’m meant to be getting further away not inviting him in for a beer and asking him about his fuckin’ kids. Gotta be both faster and smarter this time. This is how I get to show I’m good at this shit. This is where I get to make it look effortless and planned to the last detail.

I mean, it’s going to do no harm for the old reputation if I can pull this out of the bag in this heap of junk on wheels, especially with a boot full of……….

Shit.

I’d forgotten about that.

How in the name of god can you forget that sort of thing – it’s not one of those things that sit at the back of your mind waiting to fuck you up at a later time. This is what sits with its finger pointing an inch from your forehead, enough whiskey on it’s breath to ignite the lighter in the dashboard.

This is where you realise that Chance, that thing you’d dismissed so easily earlier, had been listening to your thoughts. It’s been laughing under it’s breath all along, knowing it’s time would come round to show who’s boss. Oh, and it’d brought its new friend Unlucky round to give you the finger just once. For the fun of it. Bastard.

So, that’s the strength of it then. I’m now having to take on flashing-boy behind me and the thoughts in my head giving emotion and intellect to abstract ideas.

This is getting more fucked up by the minute and that’s not good considering a minute or two is all I’ve got.

Get a damn grip, muppet. Just bloody sort it.

Forget the contents of the boot, even if only for now. Stick it on a fucking mental to-do list until there’s plenty of time to work out what to do with it properly. Getting to that stage of relative luxury is slightly more urgent.

What do I do then when the inevitable headlights flash me over ?

There’s always the radio.

Stick something on chilled and light, something to distract from the whole situation. Give him a whole different mood when the window winds down. Just sit there nonchalant and polite, yet coldly uninterested.

Yeah, that’s fuckin’ smart. Trying to look nonchalant with a collar so soaked it’s going to need ringing out, not hanging up. How the hell am I meant to look cool with a forehead dripping so nervously wet that my eyes are going to need wipers of their own soon.

Movies are shit but the cool one always has a way out of things with some gimmick, something so simple it brings a smile to even these cracked lips of mine.

Think. What do they generally do ?

A witty line or a dry joke – that’s the baby. Let him wait while I wind the window open for as long as I can get away with. Turn the radio down to make it look like I give a fuck and then hit him with a line to throw him entirely.

Who am I kidding though. I’ll open my mouth aiming to sound like Noel bloody Coward and I’ll end up with a quiver in my voice big enough to hold sodding arrows. I’ll have all the charm offensive of Mr Bean with a sore throat.

Just don’t let things come to that. It’s easier and safer. The ideas aren’t coming and he is - leave being clever to people without the guts to do anything physical.

Drive. Nice and steady.

Why did I have to glance in the mirror ? It really doesn’t help to know you’re close enough to realise that one headlight is slightly brighter than the other. The left one. If I can tell that then he’s seeing the silhouette of me sitting here stiff as the peak on his damn cap.

Was that an engine rev from the bastard ? It’s an innocent fucking noise but right now it sounds more like the growl of a predator knowing it’ll soon have its jaws wrapped around something four steps down the food chain.

This is it.

This is the moment I get the lights hitting me, I pull over and it all falls apart.

Don’t look back. Don’t make it obvious you’re acknowledging him.

Closer now. Nearly on me. Still no lights.

Come on, you bastard, get it over with and put us both out of our misery. I know I’ve got a hundred things to do more fun than this.

Things like emptying the boot, preferably before somebody like you gets near it, car or not. You’re not seeing that, not in the state it is, never mind getting your grubby hands on it. That’s my domain. I’m the only one that gets to touch it, that’s the deal and you don’t have a cut in it. After all you’re the one that………

There it is.

One flash. One stinking flash.

Cocky bastard is so sure of himself he’s not even giving me the pleasure of a second hit. In any other situation he’d fucking regret that and I’d be the one deciding how much grace he gets. Probably fuck all.

Here’s the deal. Time to slow down and pull over as far down the road as I can get away with. Somewhere dark enough to cover up whatever the fuck happens. Something to shade the fact I’m actually starting to think I’m well and truly up shit creek without a damn boat this time. I’m just going to have to wing it.

He’s taking the bait. Shadowing me in. Maybe this isn’t such a bad omen.

I could launch off at a moments notice and he’d be the one having to react – if he’s not sharp enough to realise that then I’ll have him for breakfast yet. Come on, stick with this and turn it round.

Brakes. Gently. Easy now and come to a rest. Let him move in behind me and make the next move.

Sod this, I’m switching the bloody radio on even if only for myself. Whatever goes down can do so to music. Maybe some cool British jazz, something treading the fine line between urban grit and sweater wearing coffee shop wanker. Make the guy underestimate who he’s messing with and make him think he’s got an easy catch.

I’ve got a few seconds to find something on there cooler than I am. Normally a line like that would get followed by a witty one-liner but right now that sucker punch is better used against other things. The other thing opening the door in the car behind me for one.

Move on in, buddy. I’m here making you come to me. I’m in control of this and I’ll take this at my pace now. Consider the baton passed.

Take it easy, no sudden movements. No reason to screw things up at this point.

Shit, he’s walking up by the passenger window. Don’t look round. Just be cool.

What’s with the hand movements ? I’ll give him bloody hand movements he’ll not like and they’ll get more response than I’ll give him credit for. Just ask me to open the window and let me fuckin’ ignore you through the glass.

Reach for the handle….slowly, give him chance to hear the music long before he even thinks to open his mouth.

One turn. Pace yourself.

Yeah, I’m dropping you a smile but it doesn’t mean I fuckin’ like you – teeth bite too, you know.

Drag out the second turn.

The cold air is good. It’s seeping into the car and it’s almost like I can breathe again, even though I’m too hopped up on this situation to exhale it afterwards.

“Sir……?”

Yes. 15 bastard love.

He called me “Sir”.

You’re then one with the uniform, the badge, the flashing fucking fairy lights on your car and yet your first word to me gives me the damn respect. Who pays your wages, you fat fuck ?

“Sir…can you turn off your engine please.”

Oh, now we’re getting to it, now we’re moving into an endgame you really haven’t thought through.

“Hang on, can’t quite hear you, I’ll just turn the music down”

Reach for the radio, turn the knob and leave it exactly where it is. Another notch to me and he’s going to have to ask again. Come on, ask again. You know the words are sticking in your throat so let them out.

“For one final time Sir, can you please turn off the engine. Now, if you will.”

Ok, give him a little and reel him in. Soften him up.

A little flick of the hand to acknowledge the request. Smooth. Now over to the ignition, reach across without looking and gently turn the……….

Shit.

Not that. Not now.

You stupid bloody fool.

Now is not the time to flip the boot. Not here and definitely not bloody now. Accident or otherwise that’s betting on black with a whole wheel of reds.

Do the engine and do it now. He didn’t hear the boot open and he won’t have noticed. It’s dark and the veneer on this expression is holding. Cut the bastard engine.

“Thank you, Sir”

Still polite. Still under control. Smile, be warm and this will end.

“I’m sorry for using the lights back there, seems a little heavy handed, but you hadn’t seemed to notice me. You’ve something snagged on your right rear wheel arch and it may be nothing but you never know – it’s those sorts of things that turn into something unfortunate. It’s a cold one tonight; do you want me to grab it for you ?”

You must be fucking joking. What sort of sick bloody wind up is this ? Squeak out a yes before he sees the donkey ears appearing on me like some damn Warner Brothers cartoon.

“Thanks Officer, that’s very good of you”

Grab whatever your eagle eyes have spotted and go – you’re the hero now and all your colleagues can hear the tale of how you saved a wreck. Just this once have it on me – be the big man.

Shit. The boot. He’s going to be so close to it. He’s going to sense something and this all goes to hell in a really shitty and unfortunate hand-cart. Just grab the junk and fuck off. Give me one reason, just one reason. I can have this in reverse, fired up and it’ll be more than junk under the car.

“Sir, your boot ?”

Do it, do it now. It’s self defence of sorts. Get in first and take him down before he gets a look at it. If he claps his eyes on it I’ve no chance. Not one. I’ve been dumb tonight but that’s one thing I know for certain.

A thud, what the fuck ?

“There you go Sir, I’ve knocked it shut. The piece of tyre stuck in the arch has come out cleanly and there seems to be no damage, Get it checked out in the morning, ok ? You’d better move off before the frost drops and before I catch my death out here”

“Thanks for that, I will. Have an easy night”

Have an easy night.

What sort of lame fucking sign off is that? He’s just been a glance into the boot away from earning his stripes, admittedly from my tyres, and I’m sitting hear like a fuckin’ stiff thanking him.

That’s it, pull away and throw me a wave. You don’t realise how lucky you’ve been.

Kiss the wife when you get in and enjoy the fact you’ve still got lips left to do it with. Suck the air into your lungs and savour it because next time you come that close to something that’s taken so much planning and so much of my time you won’t be getting another breath after the one you take in shock.

After all, you won’t have wanted things to end like that, would you………….

Break on through to the other side.

Yawn.

Right - it's done.

Sat there last night and knocked out about 3000 words - kept to the Blog Fiction brief, even though the day for that has passed and, not being a writer (let's be honest), I wouldn't have been involved anyway ;o)

I was surprised how easy it flowed - there were a couple of times I ended up pausing to check peoples blogs (bloody blogs, again) and to see if anything exciting had appeared in my eMail but I was pretty much writing until 1am this morning.

Talk about getting into character - I've never sworn so much in print in anything I've done. I seem to enjoy writing nasty gits.

I'll check the spelling etc and most likely slap it on here around lunchtime.

Is it any good ? Well, I like it and that's what matters - feedback will be welcome though, of course.

Oh, and a big hanks to Jen for her comment on the post below - it really helped me kick on and get it done.

Project. Metro. Notes. Fiction.

I blame Jen and Ray.

Well, ok, Ray was a given - I always blame him as you've noticed before. In return for him being a whipping boy more than once on here I'll link you over to what the hell this fiction thang really is.

Stood on the metro home reading their "Blog Fiction" stories having been a geek and turned them into eBooks for my phone. I should have seen the result of a double shot of inspiration coming from a mile off.

Ended up walking through the door and, before Tom Waits had stopped stomping in my ears, I'd grabbed a pad and pen and scribbled some notes down having had a blast of ideas before midnight.

Yeah, that's before midnight - small mercies eh

Writing as she is wrote.

It's funny how some subjects come to mind.

I'd started reading peoples "Blog Fiction Project" works yesterday and it struck me that, with the word limit imposed, some of these must have been written in a sitting or two, in a blinding flash of creativity. That led me on to the whole inspiration thing.

I get moments of absolute clarity with regard to opening paragraphs, lines of dialogue and ways to twist words but I get them, usually, just as I'm falling asleep. Only last night, suitably inspired by the act of reading, my brain decided to add some ying to the yang and write for me.

In my head.

At 1am.

Whilst trying to sleep.

Short of a pad by the side of the bed, or a dictaphone hooked up by the pillow, I tend to find that what I do remember in the morning is in the same vein but always feels about 75% of the quality of the original. I always try and convince myself to hang on to a phrase that'll jog my memory in the morning but as much as this helps it's never quite the same.

Damn you word jugglers - you inspire the writing bug in those that feel partially immunised when they try. It's like watching some amazing cookery program and being inspired to cook. Realising, once you have all the raw ingredients mixed, that you didn't see the end part with the cooking times is not a fun thing.

I don't know, maybe it's just me having a blues moment on this whole thing.

Maybe it gets easier with practice, or maybe I'm just going to have to marry an insomniac stenographer.

The answer is "yes", before you ask, the "insomniac stenographer" entered my head at about 2am this morning........

Just for Lucretia, because I'm cruel......

The majestic sound of leather on willow.........

Oh come on, it was too good to resist........ ;o)

Blogging is the new Rock 'n' Roll

Don't you just know when a person is creative:-

my oh my.... winter wonderland.
had i gratuated to a digital camera i would show you the real thing.....
"blizzard 2005" they are repeating.
"go get candles! batteries! water!" they warn.
"do not go outside"
60 miles an hour winds.
hurricane force.
snow drifts, 8 feet high.
i got out last night just in time to the stop and shop........
now i am snowed-in to my home.
the neighbors are loosing power one by one,
while mine is still here i am cooking and blogging.
then it will be accoustic guitar and reading by cande light.

i am snow blind,
and it looks beautiful!

That's from the blog of Melissa auf der Maur, formerly of Hole and Smashing Pumpkins and now with a rather spiffing solo album of her own.

It's still early days for her but drop by, read and enjoy at lightning is my girl

Cut along the dotted line.

Wow.

I've just been watching the body of a 55yr old man being partially dissected on tv. Not a dummy or a waxwork but a real human body of a recently deceased person.

Click me for a picture from the dissection.

He'd donated his body to Dr Gunther von Hagens ("the mad German in the hat ?" as Ray correctly queried) on the grounds that it was used to inform the public in some way about how it worked.

Some details follow on the first of the four programmes - you have been warned.

First the entire surface of the skin was removed leaving it as a floppy pink/grey "skin suit", complete with glove like hands and scalp including hair. Tendons are then sliced off the arm and pulled like puppet strings, making the fingers grasp and flex in a far too realistic manner.

The skull is then sliced open with a circular saw & chisel and the brain prodded with a finger before being sliced on a butchers meat slicer. Finally the spinal cord and connecting tendon is removed from brain to ankle in a single piece and stretched out on the lab table.

Depending on your level of squeamishness you're now either recoiling in horror or fascinated. Trust me, this was "can't look away and not blinking" tv of the highest order and to my mind a huge leap forward in using the box in the corner to educate. Apart from the much reviled/praised autopsy that Dr Gunther did a while ago there has never, to my knowledge, been anything like it shown on television before anywhere in the world.

For more, including photos and animations from the series (yes, including the brain-prod) try the Channel4 microsite

Lines... colours... action !

Just a quick heads-up to a site I've been a fan of for a long time.

Pop over to explodingdog and witness some of the most simple, though somehow amazingly unsettling, drawings ever conceived.

An example ? Try "i hate the coffee at work" then have a try of any of the others - they're pretty much all on target like this.

It's a simple process of readers sending a short abstract title and Sam, the site owner, then draws the pictures from what that conjures up. It has to be said, they make great desktop bitmaps.....if the PC is in an asylum.

Spot Lyric(s) #2

Something wonderful about an artist that can use a line from the Janet & John school of rhyme:-

She's a princess, in a red dress

then, within a minute or so follow up in the same song with the utterly sublime:-

All the stars make their wishes on her eyes

Tom Waits really is the genius people make him out to be, isn't he.....

Yes, Lucretia, even the Subaru.....

I've just been watching the highlights of the first race in the 2005 World Rally Championships - a snowy, icy trip around the hairpins and sheer drops of Monte Carlo.

They actually do this for fun, do they ?

Two in hospital, three cars losing wheels, one car hitting and demolishing a telegraph pole at high-speed, spectators just getting out of the way as metal screams straight at them with no brakes, inhaling smoke inside the rally car cockpit.........

Actually, on second thoughts, bring on round two ;o)

Can you get punk slippers ?

Sigh.

* I wear metal t-shirts that have caused passing officers of the law to stop me and examine them.

* I have the word Carpathian in my name and blog.

* The music I listen to would shred paint at 40 paces (just ask Lucretia)

* I have signed prints and posters on my wall that Athena would never risk selling for fear of closure.

Why am I telling you all this ?

Well, I find myself popping out earlier today to grab some new kitchen surface cleaner so that I can give the worktops a going over whilst my second load of washing runs through. Once the cleaning is done I realise that I'm quite pleased with myself and stand back to admire the now gleaming working surface.

Not exactly the spirit of rebellion, is it ?

Big and deadly but loves carrots.

If tanks are good enough for interstellar carrots then they're good enough for me. Just to be different mine is in oils.

It's an oil tank...... {groan}

Thumper, over and out.

I'd love to say I'd discovered this sick little nugget but it was Jennifer that pointed me over to Bunny suicides.

Half of me wants to know where she finds these things and the other half of me would really rather never find out.

I am geek - hear me bleep.

I've often wondered what makes a person truly earn their 'geek' badge. It's a word thrown about by many but never really explained in terms of what really makes that line to cross before you know you are one deep down.

Ladies and gentleman, my name is Carpathian and I've crossed the line.

Video gaming has long since stopped being the domain of the silicon saddo - everybody is doing it these days and in some ways it's those that don't game in some form that are more unusual.

However, this is where I've earned my badge.

I bought a copy of Retro Gamer magazine and was actually excited that it contained a cd on the cover with emulator software for the Vic-20, Commodore 16, Commodore 64, ZX Spectrum, Atari 8bit, MSX and ZX81 along with 65 Llamasoft games from the stable of Jeff Minter.

This, in itself, is not that bad - I even work with people both younger and older than myself that would be interested in these.

The final straw is that it also contains emulation of the Sharp X68000 arcade board and I actually remember the board and recognise the number.

I commened myself to the mercy of my readers.

If it didn't exist, you'd have to make it up.

Call me weak or, if you will, human.

It's 1am and having corked the red wine I was flicking around on the tv and, for some reason, put on 'celebrity' Big Brother. You could never in your wildest dreams/nightmares have placed a bet on what I saw ever happening.

Ex-Happy Mondays mellon-twister Bez and Danish amazonian fruitcake Brigitte Nielsen sitting in a hot-tub, smoking cigars and discussing grammatical Latin and the future of Esperanto.

Just read that last sentence again.

Truly, truly bizarre.

When naked skin and blogs don't mix.

Thanks Jen.

I assume your choice of picture comes with free therapy - that Teri Polo picture has left me scarred for life.

Dear christ, somebody force an intravenous drip of Guinness into her before she blows away.....

Engine room to bridge.....

I've been doing some painting and decorating in the rooms you don't seen here at Carpathian Towers so can you let me know if you spot anything odd.

Obviously the 'odd' tag doesn't count against the content - that's taken as a given.

Stop laughing at the back, it's not very becoming.

Genius is in the house.

Having booked tickets in September last year, some five months early, I was expecting a normal show for the latest genius double album "Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus". Instead, rather wonderfully, I read the new details for the late February show in the brochure today.

Why am I happy enough to post this on here ?

Read on:-




"A malevolent and beautiful musical force for over two decades, Nick Cave plays an exclusive solo concert for The Sage Gateshead.

From his nihilistic early days in the Birthday Party, to becoming Kylie Minogue’s favourite bad influence, Cave has always been uncompromising. This is a rare opportunity to see an intimate solo show."

Praise the soup - it's a miracle !

Phew.

After a day or two with the healing powers of Chun Mee green tea and Korean chicken noodle soup I pretty much have my voice back again. Medicine, schmedicine - give me things that taste nice instead.

It was exciting while it lasted though and means I even gained some hilarious jokes about puberty, fishermen and, most bizarrely of all, beach-balls.

Nice to see the enormous pile of sympathy and caring that, er, trickled in. Maybe next time, eh ? ;o)

The first person to make a joke gets a good squeaking to.

Back at work this morning.

Voice is playing "lucky dip" with me and sometimes deciding to work, albeit in a funny all-over-the-place way. One minute it's like I'm on helium, the next I'm Lemmy and the rest sees me in my continuing Marcel Marceau homage.

Bet you wish I'd lost my ability to type as well, don't you ;o)

Silence is golden (and odd).

Today's certainly felt quite odd.

Since about 8am this morning when I croaked on the phone into work I've not uttered a single word. Not one. I've just not dared stress my throat as if I push it like I normally do it tends to be about two weeks before it's full strength returns. For somebody that does exactly the opposite and talks all day it's even more strange.

Even odder was the fact that I'd go long periods and not even realise, then suddenly the thought would cross my mind out of nothing. I wonder how it would feel to go longer still - days, weeks, whatever. I guess if you got to a certain point it would switch over and thinking about talking would be the unusual thing.

Kinda makes you think.....and not talk.

"................................"

Well, I didn't see that coming......

Woke up this morning (that phrase so needs a blues riff) and realised my throat felt sore. I tried to speak and sounded somewhat like a dalek on a broken radio after gargling a cheese grater.

To give you an idea, as I realise that a text blog isn't the best place to comment about sound, if I was to say the last sentence from that previous paragraph it would sound like:-

I trd spe an soun lik da ek on a brk rad fter gar a chee gra.

I've had this before - doing work involving talking all day for the last 14years or so seems to have left my throat the first thing to get caught by anything going round. Occupational hazard I guess.

It was quite funny calling into work to let them know I wasn't coming in and hearing the person the other end trying to think who I was... which made me laugh... which hurt more. Isn't comedy a double edged sword.

Seems like soup on the menu for a day or two.........

Audience participation time.

Time to involve you in the blog - god knows it's about time to see what's going on behind those other eyes reading this. Scary thought actually, isn't it.

After finding a number of digital pics I've taken or had sent to me, strewn liberally across my PC, I've picked a shortlist for you to choose from. The winner gets a post of it's own and it can then be rightly proud of itself.

Oh, and Kate Winslet does not feature twice in this list. That joke has already been done.


1) The view from my bedroom window when it snows.

2) Three jellybabies on my desk at work.

3) Morgan the dog, lying on my parents sofa.

4) A plastic penguin in a top hat.

5) "Garg and Duckpathian", the inanimate double act that sit on my TV.

6) A real-life Scooby-snack sandwich that somebody 220miles away will recognise.


Yes, this is the sort of utter rubbish that takes up the space I don't have on my PC. Vote wisely and always remember:-

"A vote in this poll is a worthless vote."

(Mixing) it with sound advice.....

Want some sound advice ? If you have any digital photos on your PC then label them up properly - caption them, rename them or somehow get some sort of identifier on them.

I was cleaning my PC down a little to get some space back - that's where I've been this evening - and decided to archive off some of my pics to a CD. That's when things like the above turned up.

It's a mixing desk, it was dark and, judging by the name it has, was most likely 16th October 2003. That much I know for certain. As for where it was....well, your guess is as good as mine. I vaguely remember taking the pic but that's more in a blokey "magpie seeing shiny things" type way. Combine lights, button, dials and screens and I'm there. No apologies.

If you happen to be a mixing-desk spotter (they might exist for all I know) and you recognise this please let me know.....then get a new hobby.

If you're wondering why I'm cleaning my PC then just know that when formatted my capacity is a lofty 8.7Gb. Isn't that just spectacular !

When the PC was built Mr Babbage came to shake my hand personally, after which he told me how sad he was to see what I had to work with before riding off on his Penny Farthing. I keep thinking about upgrading my processor but would have to catch a second mouse alive first...........

Don't tread in any frozen poodles......

Crunchy underfoot this morning. Most likely the two puppies I've got strapped under my feet to make up for my rash acts of pleasantness last night. Ok, calm down, it isn't the puppies - they stopped being crunchy after the first mile or so.

It's a thin layer of icy snow ! Sorry Lucretia, I'm sure you'll be annoyed at yet another mention of the white stuff. There isn't much but it's enough to say we've had some - we seem to be last on the list this year.

Of course, the down side is that my fingers are so cold this morning I can barely type - that'll teach me for buying fingerless studded gloves as they looked "more metal". I wonder how metal it'll look when my fingers drop off from frostbite. Ho hum.

I'm off to grab a hot drink so expect a yelp or two as hot plastic cup meets cold fingers......

Keeping a (s)low profile.

Just realised that if you click on things in your profile that are underlined it searches for other people's blogs listing the same thing. How long have I been posting on here without realising ?

Great work, Carpy - mine are so odd that 99% of them won't match a thing. I think some additions are in order....once I've worked out what to add, of course.

I deserve to be charged with being sober in charge of a computer.

Sigh.

Blog as you would be blogged by.

After that rant I've decided to add a little ying to my yang.

I'm surfing through other blogs using the "next blog" button and dropping an encouraging comment on people starting theirs at this moment.

Pixels dropped the same sort of thing on my blog as I was creating it on day one. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise when all I had was a blank page and an impulse to join in.

God, I'm going soft - I'll have to go kick a small cute animal later.

The sign of the golden McArses: we're hatin' it.

If Lucretia can do it (and do it well) then so can I - here comes a rant.

Through my door when I got in tonight was a colourful voucher book from McDonalds emblazoned with the logo "good to see you again". This contains vouchers of a "buy one get one free" style to a value of £24.

Putting aside any nutritional comments, I'm wondering how many of these have been delivered. The levels of junk mail grow year-on-year and I'd wager that a very high percentage of this will pass from doormat to bin with barely a glance. Couldn't they donate the money it would have cost to do these to local charity and get their advertising that way. They'll still be self serving but somebody else also benefits.

Seeing as they seem to be jumping the gun and assuming I'm "going back" to them I feel it's only my duty to assume I understand what some of the parts of their flyer actually mean.


"the things that we've been doing to bring you an even tastier menu and more choices"

We've realised that our burgers have long since been rumbled and we're trying all we can to claw back market share by copying Subway's rolls, KFC's chicken and Starbucks coffee. We got left behind due to our arrogance and assumption that everybody wants to eat like the US and that regulars won't realise that the rest of the world had moved on.

"Breakfast well worth waking up for - We'll see you when you're ready"

Don't have a normal breakfast - come and start the day with something you have to pay for outside of what already exists in your house. Oh, but don't have a lie-in as our leaflets suggest as we'll have stopped serving breakfast before you come in.

"We're getting kids out there playing the beautiful game two muddy knees at a time"

We'll sponsor sports to give the impression that we're as healthy to eat as anything you can think of - but we'll brand everything so the kids have our name firmly in their heads. Muddy knees followed by pester power.

"We've got serious about salads.....try the tastiest greens this side of the meadow"

Work out what a salad a day would cost bought from the McGarden then what that could buy from your local greengrocer. I'd wager it's seen more field than the McProduct versions for a start.

"Pick up the kids and take them to McDonalds"

Start them young and let them soak up the bright colours and toys with the kids meals. Don't give them a chance to eat that sort of thing once they're old enough to decide for themselves - get it into their routine now.

"....and don't forget, wherever you go we're still McDonalds"

Exactly - for all the new lines and the fresh jingles they are still McDonalds. That's probably the most important thing to remember.

Now you may think I'm against burgers - I'm not.

Visit a local butcher, buy some meat and make your own. You'll know what's in it and be able to dress them with good cheese, fresh salad and good quality rolls. If it costs a little more then have it less often and wonder how chains do the equivalent so cheaply.

You may also think I'm against all junk food. Surprisingly, that's not the case either. Only two days ago I was eating a take-away curry.

I'm 37 and old enough to step back from all the gloss and marketing to make the choice for myself. I know from my diet how often I can indulge and what the items off-limits to me should be. I also know the tricks used by marketing to give the impression something is better or different than it actually is.

Finally, after reading that last point, you may be thinking I'm a hypocrite for singling out one brand or chain above the others, even having said that I'm not against fast food per se.

This is the crux of my comments. As much as it annoys me, it's not so much the McDonalds physical presence as the way it's pushed as being the place to eat, the treat for children and the healthy alternative. If they would just be honest and admit they're a fast food chain like all the others then maybe people wouldn't rant like this about them. If they looked at the whole way they present themselves and see the way we see them, in this far more savvy world, they'd realise just how obvious and open to ridicule they are.

Rant over. Sorry for taking your time but that leaflet was a step too far.

Have a break - have a green tea.

Thanks to a mention at the "a non-stop cavalcade of fun" blog by Retarius I've discovered that something rather wonderful exists.

Green Tea Kit Kats !!



I've no idea if they taste nice or make you grow a third kidney or anything. Simply the fact they exist is enticing enough for me.

Add this to the Haagen Daz Green Tea ice cream (you really couldn't make this up, could you) and I'm somewhat envious of the Japanese taste for being adventurous (or, of course, stupid) with food.

Whether for brass monkeys.....

Isn't it great when you chance on a track by accident ?

Got up this morning and slapped the TV on in that random way that people do - on it was the new Ian Brown single "Time is my everything".

The thing about "King Monkey" is that conversations about him invariably contain the same set of comments - "he used to be in the Stone Roses,you know ?", "he's really cool and a bit of a scally" and "his music is never quite as good as you think it should be".

This time, you can strike that last one - at least for this one track.

Containing a subtle lilt of mad-as-ever vocals and a swirling string backing this is topped by the very best non-mariachi mariachi brass I've heard for a good long time.

Seems the swagger is Tequila fuelled this time.

Killers, thieves and lawyers.

Thanks folks.

No, that's not sarcastic - that's genuine.

Spent Saturday morning combing the shops and ended up with a number of Tom Waits albums. (A pile of Tom, a heap of Waits ?). After the very generous Ray threw me a good handful of the darn things this was really the only outcome, wasn't it.

I also took on board Lucretias point to not "rush" Tom and to take it all in. In honour of that advice I promise to stop buying them when I have them all. Does that count for you ?

Rain Dogs, Swordfishtrombones, Real Gone and Blood Money now grace my CD shelves and rather than moan at the extra burden I'm sure I saw the wood beneath them trying their best to clear space for more.

Who am I to disappoint my furniture.....

My fame is your fame - literally.

In an awful display of vanity I've just checked Google for 'carpathiantowers' to see if it has indexed my page yet. I did get one result - a single result - but there's another person who'll be happier than me at this.

All Consuming, the site which hourly scans blogs looking for book references, had picked up on my use of the text from "The Big Blind" by Ray Banks and now features that as a link.

My moment of initial fame has therefore come and will lead people here. The only problem is that they already have to know the address and I'm basically an advert for the aforementioned book.

Oh well, maybe one day !

NB I wonder if that means I've just given him a second mention on that site ?

Francophile Namesakes

If you like comedy and you use the internet (or more specifically Google) then you owe it to yourself to check out Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure live show. I know it's out in the UK on DVD but I haven't done any research on whether it was released anywhere else. Ok, I'm lazy. Sue me for it. Try using Amazon or something

It's a two hour tour de force of sheer passion and drive, ably backed by a story that becomes all the more engrossing as you realise just what he's been through. It's not stand-up, per se, but he is standing up and there are no real jokes, yet it is seriously funny. Also, unusually for something like this, it's actually quite gripping and edge of the seat stuff.

For that reason I'm not giving away any of the story other than the fact it's based on a drunken bet on Googlewhacks - the finding of two word Google searches that return one single page.

The extras are really rather excellent. White rabbit style "follow the Dave" with extra info, out-takes, ad libs, a picture gallery with a painfully funny but dry commentary and a pop video made by Rob Manuel from B3ta.com with the band Helen Love.

Funny, warm and very human - this Carpathian advises at least one viewing. Trust me, when various expletives pour from his mouth you'll already be hooked and most likely thinking exactly the same..........

Vindaflu.......

Don't link to the blogs of people with colds or flu. That's official. I'm going to blame Ray because it's easy and, obviously, because I can. I've been surrounded at work by people taking the "SickBoy" name far too much to heart but I'm still pointing the finger at him.

{points finger}

See ?

Since the toast incident a few posts back I've been suffering with a gradual shutdown of nasal services - yep, I'm another blogging bloke with a cold. I'm assuming toast-smoke-particles (if there are such things) irritated my nose into laying down the welcome mat for Gerry Germ and all his little friends.

Tonight it's time to fight back with my patented method:-

1 x sub-nuclear strength curry
1 x garlic rice
1 x garlic naan
1 x spinach side dish
1 x pint of orange or grapefruit juice.

Split portions in two and have half for two consecutive days to keep the battle running.

Now, the strange thing is that I've always done this after I found it once worked but I've never really known if there was anything to it other than a placebo effect. A search on Google seems to second my plan and prove that I'd accidently hit all the bases (spices, vit C, green veg, garlic, no booze). To quote the BBC article:-



Alternative remedies

There are alternative remedies on the market - some of which are still available at your local chemist.

Besides Vitamin C, zinc and garlic are well known to improve the immune system - and they are produced in tablet form.

When it comes to preventative measures, foods rich in calcium should be added to your diet - such as sardines, salmon, almonds, broccoli and green vegetables.

You should try to keep your home and work place well ventilated, and to get plenty of fresh air.

What about a curry?

If you don't fancy popping pills, one doctor has come up with a new tip - try a curry. Professor Ron Eccles, the director of the Common Cold Centre at the University Hospital of Wales in Cardiff, says a spicy dish works wonders.

He recommends tucking into a powerful vindaloo or a madras, rather than a korma. The curry works by making the eyes and nose run, so extra mucus traps the virus. Professor Eccles said: 'The spices can help get rid of germs from the system and at the same time clear the airways.'

But you shouldn't wash the curry down with lager - as alcohol counteracts the benefits, because it dehydrates nasal passages.

Spot Lyric #1

The first in an occasional series of lines in songs that catch your ear.

"it's so erotic when your makeup runs"

from "Blackest Eyes" by Porcupine Tree on "In Absentia"

Busted ? Yes, bang to rights.

The story: Bye, bye Busted


Inspired by Ray's George Lucas thang here's my take on the highlights:-


"Chart-topping boy-band Busted say they have split after their frontman quit to tour with a new group."

He obviously woke up one morning and was hit by the full horror of it.

"Busted have been one of the best-selling bands over the past three years, wracking up eight top three hits and four number ones with catchy, guitar-driven pop that caught the ear of legions of young fans."

Infections catch your ear and we don't celebrate them.

"Member Charlie Simpson said he had left the group and would start touring with his new band, Fightstar."

Arse, every silver-lining has a cloud.

"I hope the fans will understand"

Yes, you're getting out before everybody realises you're shite.

"It's a really sad day for all of us"

You should be this side of the fence - it's bloody wonderful.

Hundreds of distraught fans left messages on the band's Web site to express their dismay at the news.

True, it should have been so much sooner.

"What am I going to do?" asked one.

Rejoice ?

"My life is over -- I have just had my new Golf (car) sprayed with the Busted logo as well. Hugs to all who are suffering."

Hugs accepted - they'll make up for my ribs hurting from the laughing.

Radio killed the videos (ta !)

Probably one of the better Internet radio sites around for diversity and ease of use. Everything from "A Flock of Eighties" to "Completely Cole Porter" and even a new Comedy channel.

Oh, and yes Ray, I've already spotted that Tom Waits lives on the "Motel California" channel and that Syd Barrett and the Floyd live on the "Brown Acid Revue".

I wonder if the idea of music without pictures will ever catch on........

Winter draws on

Cold this morning. Very cold.

It's probably the first morning for a good while that there's a chance of slipping over on the icy ground. I found that out walking into work this morning.

Lucretia was right in her "Let it snow" post - even with only thick frost there is something quite magical about watching the wispy mist floating along the Tyne as you cross the bridge over it, crunching footprints into the white underfoot.

Oh course, my rose-tinted glasses (no, I don't really have any) are ignoring the fact I still can't feel my fingers and my face is somewhat numb.

Now if only somebody could invent summer snow..........

Insert geek to continue......

Damn you Ray, you knew I just couldn't resist geeky, retro, humorous gaming-related rubbish, didn't you. You knew sending me some links in an email would be too much to resist.

Sigh. I'm so transparent.

If you ever played a videogame - any videogame - back when you were a child and you know, deep down, you're not really a child now then you'll love this. Basically it's just getting 11-13yr old children now to play the games of then.

Some of the comments are, by turn, priceless and depressing. Enjoy.

Childs Play @ 1UP.com - Part 1

Childs Play @ 1UP.com - Part 2

Grain and bread, soon be dead.

It may not look like much but this is another episode in the ongoing "Edible things trying to finish off Carpathian" series. One minute an almost white slice of bread, the next minute (if that long) smoke billowed under the kitchen door and I had to yank the plug from the wall and virtually put the bread out.

The fire alarm two rooms away shouted excitedly that it hadn't seen so much smoke for ages and the kitchen resembled something used for smoking fish. Some two hours later my eyes are still watering. So, that's cereal and now toast lining up to find ever more inventive ways to draw a line under me.

Coming next week: Crumpets in freak knife throwing incident.

Prose, schmose.....pass the coffee.

It's a slow news day over at Carpathian Towers so far.

I'll sum up the day so far in the fewest words that I can waste your time with:-

Tired eyes
Muesli like sawdust
Mislaid phone
Found phone
Cold
Actually, very cold
Work desk (again)
Really rather poor Blog entry.

No, treat that as {er,thinks} a work dedicated to the banality of the working Western world. Can I just about get away with the pretentiousness of that ?

I thought not - god, you're a tough crowd.

Real Good, Tom.....

There's something captivating about contraptions that look as if a slight touch will topple them and destroy their workings, yet if left alone could well see you out and run indefinitely. The magic is watching them lurch from cycle to cycle, gradually realising that there's actually a smooth, regular routine hiding beneath the surface.

So it is with "Real Gone", my first veer into the Tom Waits - the music is brash, bold and direct but somewhat crumbling and fragile at the same time, just about keeping pace with itself and, where it stumbles, maintaining an air to give the impression that it meant to all along.

The colour of the mood seems to veer between dark, pained blue and a world-weary rust - both painted on the shoes of an almost epileptic shuffle. It's easy to imagine the album being as at home sitting at the dock-side, watching the days lobster catch come in whilst the gumbo stews in the pot, as it would be sitting on any busy street corner and hearing the hidden stories in the heads of the urban passers-by.

Being a complete novice to the Waits library (it already seems more reasonable from one album to use that word than the cold discography) I have to admit to having not a single clue where this fits in the grand scheme of things. For that matter, from what I've heard of him, even if it fits in anywhere.

Musically, the only thing I recognised in the sound that I own may be the dark urban psychosis of Tricky - only after far more whiskey. To those Waits aficionados I'm sure they'd see that statement as heresy but there is the same dis(regard) for rhythm and ability to work around the notes rather than simply follow them. Where Tricky uses beats and whispers, Waits employs a broken Blues and an incredibly emotive growl.

Whether Tricky is a closet Waits fan or not (more than one Waits sound has been respectfully, erm, borrowed by him) I have absolutely no idea but the fact he's even brought to mind means there must be something in it. That's maybe a whole other conversation for a later drink fuelled time.

Frank Zappa pointed out that "writing about music is like dancing about architecture". If that's the case and this is the way the Waits house is built, then I could quite easily be dancing for quite some time to come.

Genius, knowingly in threadbare trousers.

Red sky at night.......

Another of my favourite photos - taken after work one evening, looking out over the Shopshire countryside. I'd never seen so many colours and so many layers of cloud lit in such a strange way.

Luckily it all seems to show when grabbed.

Waits time for this man.

Ok, you all win.

After some sort of osmosis from one blog to another I'm going to check out Tom Waits "Real Gone". There's only so many mentions a person can take before it sinks in ;o)

I've been meaning to for ages but it seems it's time to dig in and see why everybody that hears him seems to swear by him.

I know, I'm just a little late......

Absinthe: Sorry, can you speak up.....?

As something to post on a quiet (though again gale ridden) Sunday night I thought I'd get round to the obvious full post I was always likely to do on Absinthe.

Can you imagine walking into a pub now and seeing the following greeting you:-



That's how it was back in 1939 - in this case Victor Berlemont serving a glass at Londons "The French House". It's this history, through even relatively modern times, and an almost unlimited number of tales, poems and usage in fiction that interests me. Oh, and the drink and it's effects of course.

So here it is - my Absinthe and it's collected tools of the trade so far. A Pontarlier glass, a spoon, my imported Absinthe ice-water fountain, a bottle of La Fee and, because I'm a completist with more money than sense, even an etched metal beer mat.



Even as a lover of the drink I have to admit that neither of the two related quotes I love the most in any way glamourise it at all.

Firstly, amongst a number of passages and descriptions, Ernest Hemingway wrote the following slightly unsettling entry:-

"Got tight on Absinthe last night - did knife tricks"

The second was as part of a sonnet written by "Valentin", the pen name of Henri-Bourette, who slowly described the intricate process involved in the correct preperation of the drink. He ended it with:-

"Finally, to crown these unparalleled attentions
Very delicately, take the glass, and then
Throw, without hesitation, the whole lot out of the window"

For everything from a virtual reference library, a shop, the history and even a reference collection of related antiques try

"Oxygenee: The Virtual Absinthe Museum"

Banking on murder by muesli.

Oh, and while I remember I really must thank Ray for nearly finishing me off once and for all this morning.

Was sitting quietly eating some breakfast and opened an email from him. In it he used the phrase 'Nobody can "purr" words without sounding like a wookie'.

Totally caught me off guard and an involuntary laugh saw me choke on my cereal. We're talking the gasping, bulging-eyed movie standard choking too.

Another example that writing can, after all, probably prove fatal if the situation arises.

Warning: contents may contain contents.

Further to the well spotted article posted about "The Wacky Warning Label Contest" on Jennifers blog, I thought I'd add my own on here.

I've just eaten a "Luxury mini-chocolate" bar.

It has Hazelnuts pictured on the wrapper, lists the item as "Milk chocolate with hazelnuts, corn flakes and rice crisps in a creme filling" and has "Hazelnut snack sticks" printed on both sides of every mini-bar inside.

The underside of the wrapper ?

"May contain nut traces"

{rolls eyes}

Food, glorious food.....

Shopping in a local market I found a bottle of "chip-shop style curry sauce". Knowing how unique the real thing is I picked it up and had a look. Bizarrely it was made in the UK, labelled to be exported to the USA and then has found it's way back on the shelves here again. That in itself is vaguely interesting but it's the small detail that is odd.

Firstly, as far as I know, the US doesn't have chip shops - at least not proper unhealthy greasy expensive ones like we do. Therefore surely that phrase means little or nothing over there ?

Secondly, and here's the bit that is frankly just plain strange, is that the brand on it is "Norfolk Manor" with a little drawing of a large stately home.

What ?!

I really can't see the lord of the manor asking Jeeves the butler "if he would be so good as to bring the bottled curry sauce to put on ones chipped potatoes as the hot greasy paper is burning through ones tweed". I know we have an image of a little country stuck in the "good old days" but that's simply weird.

What's next ? "Queen Victorias own knees-up cockney tikka-masalla sauce guvnor" ???

The Austin Powers films and Dick van Dykes accent have such a lot to answer for........

Here, random stranger, have my photo's.......

There are some points that are true for people using the internet and owning a PC. Multiplied by the millions online and you get a sizable number of people.

Here's the rules - you'll see that they aren't earth shatteringly odd or unusual. This is the scary part.


1) People have digital cameras of some sort.

2) People store their pictures on their PC.

3) People have web pages to show off their photos.

4) Google indexes web pages and images.


Can you see where I'm going with this yet ?

Somebody has already realised that all of these things will be true for some people and has written a Google-searcher. This knows the default filenames for photo's taken on various makes and models of camera and builds a Google search using one of these filenames and a random number.....then shows the world what it finds via the power of the big G. Again, that's Google - not God - that would be even more scary.

For those sensitive souls amongst you I should, BEFORE you visit the link, point out that some people have been known to have photo's taken without their clothes on. It's deplorable and shouldn't be encouraged but that's the crazy world we live in.

Most are, it has to be said, a wonderfully random snapshot into the world - quite literally.


Random Personal Picture Finder

The weather becomes a TV critic.

Ridiculously windy again this morning.

I happened to look back at the house when heading out to work and spotted that yet one more thing is conspiring against me. The row of aerials on the houses run as "straight", "straight", "straight", "straight", "45 degrees to both horizontal and vertical".

Guess which one is mine ?

So first the TV itself decides to try to end it's own life only to be left badly injured and now the aerial decides that I'm really not going to be watching much in the short term.

I really should have taken notice of Ray's comment on my previous TV post. He could well have been right.

Right. I'm off to make some Chun-Mee Chinese green tea - a great way to start the day at work.

Banks vs Noon: The Big Blind remix #1

Method.

Take three random paragraphs from the first two chapters of "The Big Blind" by Ray Banks, use Jeff Noon's Cobralingus idea and end up with what he calls "the ghost" - the spirit of the original text.

If anybody, Ray especially, wants to see the original choice of text, the workings and the intermediate steps then I have them saved to provide inspiration. It's proved to be amazingly good fun and really gets the juices going to write more.

I wonder if it's possible to remix a whole book.....?


Result.

Her body starts to react, moving violently, and I realise I need to use the brakes and use them now. I have so many feelings running through my head but the worst is that it's all true.

Long gasps of air, hot from the engine.

The heat from the dashboard warming my face.

She'd always been just so, neat and precise. One of those facades just too friendly towards strangers, obviously hiding other feelings.

I turned the radio up loud until the volume seemed to come from everywhere. I kept turning until it was drowning things out like a sound from above.

Got to bolt, get away from the car. Try and escape the wall of noise. At a distance clear of the sound I can stop and take stock, work out where to go from here. I know I need to get away from this area but anybody could see me and find the car.

Duck and run for cover - evade them any way possible. It's not going to be easy but I have to do it. I have to find a way to communicate what's happened to her, no matter how awful the news.

A trail of dark liquid staining the ground. Blood ? Maybe this is a means to find where I need to be. I can't get my head around whether to follow it or shy away. It could be the worst thing to do right now.

It's the only option I have but I'm tired of this running. I know I'll tire and have to give up. I just don't have the ability to keep this up indefinitely.

I could go back to the car, before I give my location away, but I fear that when I go back to where I left her I'll now be alone.

The 19th century must have sounded....odd.

Currently having fun with the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue - "A Dictionary of Buckish Slang, University Wit and Pickpocket Eloquence".

Strange how the definitions new to some in the early 19th century seem both quaintly old and, at the same time, hilariously not of this world. We're quite safe, I think, to ridicule language far below that what we kinda talk like.....{cough}

Some examples:-

ADMIRAL OF THE NARROW SEAS. One who from drunkenness
vomits into the lap of the person sitting opposite to him.

BRIM. (Abbreviation of Brimstone.) An abandoned woman;
perhaps originally only a passionate or irascible
woman, compared to brimstone for its inflammability.

GIFTS. Small white specks under the finger nails, said to
portend gifts or presents. A stingy man is said to be
as full of gifts as a brazen horse of his farts.

RESCOUNTERS. The time of settlement between the bulls
and bears of Exchange-alley, when the losers must pay
their differences, or become lame ducks, and waddle out
of the Alley.

Reading, writing and remixing.

For anybody even remotely interested in language my first book rave is a great choice. Actually I'm bound to say that as I'm slightly biased: I'm the one picking the book.


Cobralingus by Jeff Noon

Take passages of text, filter through imaginary "filters" (such as "anagramethane","decay", "find story" or "ghost edit") in the same style as recording studio tools and continue until an end result is found.

This on it's own could be a little dry if it wasn't for the fact it's from Jeff Noon. Anybody who's read from Vurt onwards will know that even his most straight works feature an almost subtly subversive use of language.

There's something wonderful about a book written by somebody that seems to have a love of words that encourages the reader to pursue the same. This is that sort of thing - only done with a twist or two.

You'll hear many more mentions of Noon by me - I'm an unashamed fan of his work. Eight books in, not a single weak link and a breadth of content carried with a recognizable style.

Sigh.

Sigh.

A terrible few months of losses for extreme / left-field music in general.

We lose Dimebag Darrell (Pantera/DamagePlan) and Jhonn Balance (Throbbing Gristle/Psychic TV/Coil) and now I find out the lead singer of Nasum, Mieszko Talarczyk, is reported missing in Thailand, presumed dead.

He and his girlfriend were staying in a bungalow at Phi Phi Island when the wave hit. She's currently recovering in hospital.

I have numerous records by all three on my CD shelves and it's all just rather crap.

I'm going to bed. Please note the distinct lack of a humorous punchline.

Don't mind me - I'm just digging an escape tunnel...

Oh well, that's that then.

I've just sent a chunk of draft story and a handful of work-in-progress poems and rhymes to be looked at by somebody.

The bizarre thing is that you'd think wanting people to read what I've written would be half of the point. Now I've sent them off and there's no recalling the mail I'm somewhat of a fluster that somebody else can actually read them without me over their shoulder pointing out what it would say "when it's been worked on more".

Is this normal for someone that writes in any form, or is it maybe because up until now it's been primarily for me and for the enjoyment of the actual doing ? I'd be curious views on this whole "letting things fly" thing. I know I've no idea !

I'm off to make some food - possibly something cosy like a grilled tuna steak and a heap of green veg. I feel a bottle of wine being opened somewhere in the immediate future too - that'll be more required than enjoyed.

Pop goes the.......television.

Great start to the evening.

I enter the house and slap the tv on to see what's going on in the world. It stares back at me with a very blank expression apart from the words "Sorting...." in the center. It normally only does this after rescanning for digital channels or after an over-the-air software upgrade. The fact it had decided to do one was a bad sign.

I was right to be worried. For the second time in a year it's probably blown the digiboard inside leaving me with a television just shy of a four figure cost able to now only get 5 channels.

I feel a poor assistant may well get a call where I bought it from once it opens in the morning. Last time I was annoyed but polite and let them dictate things for a repair. This time I may well be pushing for a replacement with far more vigor.

I'm sure it heard me bad-mouthing it a few posts back. Maybe the PC is in cahoots with it. These electrical items always side with each other.

The sheep return to work and hand me a quill......

It's dark outside, it's that peek/trough in the middle of the week and I'm at work.....after a few hours sleep !

Yes, even with some peoples attempts at old song related sabotage (you know who you are) I seemed to drift off last night. I'm assuming therefore that the sheep have left the picket line and let the faerie with the magic dust through. That's how sleep works, isn't it ?

All this blogging and reading other electronic homes of people who write (really write, with dust jackets and everything) has led me to really focus on getting back to working on the things I've got in the air at the moment.

I've been juggling two part finished poems, the start of a collection of limericks based on everyday objects, 8500 words of a short story draft and, for no real reason, a mercifully short stand up comedy routine complete with heckler stoppers. Actually Ray's heard some of that and he'd most likely debate the "comedy" tag. I'm sure he'll enlighten us shortly.

I do have finished work though and I'm very close to getting somebody else to cast an eye over some of it. It's that rejection thing rearing it's head, though I realise that if you don't jump from the plane you'll never know if the home-made parachute actually works. Actually, thats a really bad analogy - prose is rarely fatal if it fails. Rarely. Bomb disposal manuals may count, I guess.

I shall discuss this further with my local neighbourhood page scratcher when he makes it into work and see what transpires.

Running on empty.

Some 40 hours awake and I feel amazingly well. I'm off to bed so lets see what happens tonight. Sleep, obviously, is the target.

As mentioned to somebody a short while ago this really can't go on much longer without the crash coming.

"We had joy, we had fun , we had seaso.........."

DOH !

2 + 2 = 1.5

Ok, so the blog doesn't look that different, does it.

What I do now understand is some of how this whole blogger template lark is built on here AND how some of the HTML code works. I figured that may just be a handy thing before messing around.

As these last two posts have been incredibly dry and boring I'll make up for it with a picture of an evil plastic duck.

I've found a few boxes to unpack.

You may notice a few changes as I try and add some extra trinkets to the site. You know what it's like: you buy a new cheap cupboard and end up spending more on the things adorning it. Maybe thats just me though. Ho hum.

A basic links list is in place and will be fully populated once I've worked out what to put into it. There's a handful of obvious suspects in there to begin with.

Current background music to doing this is Kraftwerk's "Tour de France Soundtracks". Seems kind of apt whilst messing about with code. If things go badly it may become old Red Hot Chili Peppers stuff.

More later, dear readers. I bet you can't wait.

There must be easier ways to make a million.

Debated taking over the world this afternoon as a diversion from work but that sort of thing is getting very passe.

If it isn't one villain then it's another having a go and I've never been one for queuing. Once I got there it would be a case of destabilize this or extorting that and that means wall-charts and flip boards.

Maybe I'll just do it slowly and quietly behind the scenes in a subtle, barely noticeable way.

Now where's my Acme catalogue........

Dolly Parton sang it best........

Back at desk, somewhat windswept from the walk in. Nearly lost the bag I was carrying whilst walking the bridge over the Tyne. Feel like the top layer of skin has been removed from the constant wind on face. Resisting temptation to turn to cosmetic products. Honestly.

First task is to dismantle the small and rather pathetic christmas tree on my desk and put it sadly back into it's box for another year.

Almost like being back at work.

My sheep refuse to do jumping tricks.

Marvellous.

First day back at work proper after the Christmas and New Year break and I'm simply unable to sleep. Strains of "Insomnia" by Faithless and that awful "We're....wide awake" sting from Timmy Mallets days gone by come to mind.

The sheep that are hired at times such as this seem far too busy getting their next round in to even think about fence jumping. It's against union rules, apparently.

My brain seems to be in what Julian Cope once described as "psychic driving" - that feeling that you're travelling a long straight open road... but only in your head. As this "arch drude" can do no wrong in my eyes I shall use this phrase from now on.

I sometimes get this though - if I know I have to be up early for something and I have a few days warning I seem to over-compensate and don't fully shut down, seemingly just in case I don't wake up in time.

Looks like hot drinks and watching some old cosy slightly soft focus film tonight to encourage myself to zone out properly.

Wish me luck. It's going to be a long first day back.

Ah, I've been expecting you, Mr Bond......

I'm joining the push across the Blogging world (well, one other site) to make a stand against the evil killer koala bears. I have neither read the story in question nor researched my facts but feel a knee-jerk reaction is easily as good those two put together.

As you can see from the photo they look a darn sight more evil when caught off guard.

Anarchy on the BBC......

Just watching the wonderful "1-2 FU" punk documentary done by Jonathan Ross on BBC3 for a second time. Benefits from being more of a personal take on things rather than covering the same ground all the previous film/biogs have done. Class.

Jesus, it really makes you look at the charts and the state of music (muzak ?) these days and pine for the old noisy shite that used to pleasure our ears.

I'm off to pogo around the room and dig out a load of Banshees stuff.

Oh, and if you catch the doc now or on one of it's repeats then let me know what you thought.....

I've come to fix your blocked sink.......

There we go, 'Luke', are we happy now ?. You request and you get here at the Towers.

Now, lets hear no more of this evil killing machine infatuation.

Pass me the hammer, thanks.....

About time to hang a picture on the fourth wall. People like pictures even if they are of no real benefit at all. People seem to know how to "look" even if they can't "see".

God, I'm down to the level of cod-profundity already.

In case you're bothered, by some miracle, the picture is one of mine and was taken in Russia at about 6am one morning. It was around -15 degrees and I'd not long got off the Trans-Siberian. I just like the golden morning glow, thats all. I'm easily pleased.

Television, drug of the nation......

Maybe the Banks was right - TV is evil.

Just turned the box on for the first time today and I'm presented with Chris Tarrent holding what looked like a baby llama in his arms, pointing it's anus at his wife and threatening to "let her have it". Didn't stick around long enough to see if she "got it" or not.

On flicking around I have the alternative of a ringtone advert for a frog which (doesn't) sound like a motorbike, the "Xtra Factor Special" (surely an oxymoron ?) and home shopping offering "Body Reform Pick of the Day".

All this on a 32" screen. {shivers}

Ok Ray, I think you win a point on this one.

A few endorsements

In a vain attempt to have people find me by random search success here's a few very random things I endorse. It may elicit freebies winging their way over from the places and companies involved but thats just me dreaming again. I do that, you know, as you'll come to discover.

Guinness - only the "extra cold" variety of course. One can find snobbery in all things and I'm starting the strand on the Irish cold stuff right here.

La Fee Absinthe - people who know me are most likely sick of hearing about this stuff already (Right, Banksy ?). Recklessly easily available, louches like a nimbus party, causes leg and head ability to vanish in opposite directions (as it should). Oh, and don't drink it neat Slug - I've warned you once. I'll blog more on this - consider yourselves warned.

Rio Nitrus MP3 player - it's not an iPod. Yeah, shocking eh ? 1.5Gb is enough for some 50+ albums and it's small enough to lose in a shallow pocket. Wonderful for being ignorant of people you know whilst in town. One has to keep up the icy metal facade somehow...

Trillians Rockbar, Newcastle - it's a bar and it's in Newcastle, though the intelligent among you had worked that out already I'd hope. Cosy, dark, great bands on (sometimes) and the jukebox goes from Slayer to Radiohead with many surprising tangents inbetween. Have seen bands like Katatonia, Amon Amarth (windmills, eh Barnes ?) and the wonderfully named Stairway to Zeppelin. Voted the Seventh Best rock Venue in Britain in the Kerrang readers poll (as if that means anything in real money)

One more for the road....

One final post for the night then I shall retire. Well, not retrire in the "leaving work" sense, more just go to bed. You know what I mean - stop being awkward.

As a first in a frequent series here's what's making the playlist at the moment:-

Devin Townsend - Terria
Nick Cave - Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus
Bjork - Medulla
Ministry - Filthpig
Kraftwerk - Die Mensch Maschine (live German TV rip)

Go on, pigeonhole my tastes then - dare you ;o)

Wormholes

Either I'm really not in the right frame of mind to do this or I've spent two and half hours already for minimal change. I'll pretend it's a timezone setting issue in my blog setup if thats ok with you.

Nuclear physics anyone ?

Three layout changes, four mistakes and a scratch of the head. No, not a new Hugh Grant movie but the effect of starting a blog. This could be time consuming.

Moving In

I'm still moving in at the moment. I'm sure you know the feeling.

Just giving the page a lick of virtual paint and deciding if the gargoyles are a little too much above the front door. Will be holding a Blog-warming as soon as the place looks unnaturally neat.