Just had a rather wonderful weekend in Kilkenny, the centre-point of which was watching a stunning performance of Trainspotting with some ridiculously great people. It deserves a post in itself and will get one when I have a little more time/energy/caffeine coursing through my veins.
I’m a little introspective tonight. Earlier this evening I received a cheque paid from the will of my grandmother, who died in February. My grandfather, still very much kicking, had included a brief letter with it in which he spoke of my grandmother’s great love for me and pride in me, as she held for all her grandchildren. I’m not sure I have ever heard the man say the word ‘love’, apart from when he was reading at his wife’s funeral, but he has a way of expressing the concept beautifully in very few words when setting his thoughts to paper. He did it once with a short note accompanying a gift to me of his own framed copy of the poem ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling when I was at one of the lowest, most shameful points of my life. And he brought an unexpected moistening of the cheeks to me tonight, at a point where I suddenly realised how badly I needed the affirmation and love of those I respect and respected.
And it dawned on me that sometimes, when you don’t feel much love and pride in yourself, the major reason to keep striving for good and for better is to hopefully inspire that love and pride from those who matter most.
Disclaimer: I do realise what a strong element of cheese there is about this post but sometimes cheese, as in the case of a very fine Camembert, is just the goddamn truth.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
5
Dr. Dre Muthafucka
Had a lovely evening out yesterday at a popular music performance for young people courtesy of legendary 2fm DJ Dusty Rhodes. I also had the pleasure of being accompanied by my old mucker Warren, the delightful Cerys, the utterly charming capturemonkeys, and the insanely chatty Nacho. The entertainment by the young minstrel Dr. Dre was wonderful, though I don't remember ever noticing an entertainer make quite such frequent reference to female canines before. Must have a burgeoning interest in veterinary medicine. Could be a worthwhile career change for him if the music thing doesn't work out, as the venue appeared to be only a little over half-full.
Sadly most of my new found friends had to work the next day (do young people have no stamina any more?) so I finished off the night with Warren in Eddie Rocket's and then with sex on the beach in Greystones. Lottie mixed it beautifully. We listened to 90s music 'til about 5am and felt all nostalgic. They really don't make 'em like they used to. My mission over the next few days is to find out what all the members of Mansun are up to now.
More reliable reports of the gig are available here and probably here by the time I have this finished.
Sadly most of my new found friends had to work the next day (do young people have no stamina any more?) so I finished off the night with Warren in Eddie Rocket's and then with sex on the beach in Greystones. Lottie mixed it beautifully. We listened to 90s music 'til about 5am and felt all nostalgic. They really don't make 'em like they used to. My mission over the next few days is to find out what all the members of Mansun are up to now.
More reliable reports of the gig are available here and probably here by the time I have this finished.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
6
Free Indie
I have lots of lovely links on my sidebar which are all worth checking out, but if you haven't taken a gander at Free Indie yet then it's high time you did.
The site re-launched itself recently and, oddly enough, I find it harder to navigate now than it was before. So i'm gonna put a couple of links directly to a couple of bands I've found on the site that I love, to save you having to meander around too much, if you care not for such things.
The Decemberists are an absolutely cracking band, with melodic tunes and clever lyrics. All three songs available here are good, but if you feel incredibly pressed for time and hard-drive/iPod space you should go with 'Engine Driver'.
Beirut are pretty well known at this stage, but if you don't own any of their music I highly recommend you download these tracks. Again, if you only choose one go for 'Postcards from Italy', one of my all-time favourite tracks by anyone, ever.
For those who like their music performed by earnest, sensitive men with acoustic guitars Jeremy Fisher is worth checking out. No one track here stands out, but I do like 'Jolene', simply because its title reminds me of Dolly Parton. The songs bears no resemblance though, and I can't quite work out if that's a good thing or not.
Here ends my foray into music blogging for now. If free, legal downloads are your thing (and why on earth wouldn't they be?) MP3 Hugger is another blog worth checking out.
The site re-launched itself recently and, oddly enough, I find it harder to navigate now than it was before. So i'm gonna put a couple of links directly to a couple of bands I've found on the site that I love, to save you having to meander around too much, if you care not for such things.
The Decemberists are an absolutely cracking band, with melodic tunes and clever lyrics. All three songs available here are good, but if you feel incredibly pressed for time and hard-drive/iPod space you should go with 'Engine Driver'.
Beirut are pretty well known at this stage, but if you don't own any of their music I highly recommend you download these tracks. Again, if you only choose one go for 'Postcards from Italy', one of my all-time favourite tracks by anyone, ever.
For those who like their music performed by earnest, sensitive men with acoustic guitars Jeremy Fisher is worth checking out. No one track here stands out, but I do like 'Jolene', simply because its title reminds me of Dolly Parton. The songs bears no resemblance though, and I can't quite work out if that's a good thing or not.
Here ends my foray into music blogging for now. If free, legal downloads are your thing (and why on earth wouldn't they be?) MP3 Hugger is another blog worth checking out.
3
Venting extreme frustration
Christ almighty you wouldn't believe how fucking long I've just spent trying to fix up the picture in my previous post so the text beside it doesn't look stupid and yet the stupid fucking thing still won't do what I want. I assume I'm not alone in wanting to smash up pieces of technology that piss me off. I was trying to hoover earlier using a badly cracked nozzle because I was pissed off a couple of months ago that the hoover bag needed emptying again. If my girlfriend wasn't asleep a couple of feet away from me and if this wasn't her laptop I'm using it would be out the fucking window by now.
Angry moment over, sorry about the way the bottom picture in my Henman post intrudes into the text. I doubt it'll upset you too much. I, on the other hand, may require therapy because of it.
Angry moment over, sorry about the way the bottom picture in my Henman post intrudes into the text. I doubt it'll upset you too much. I, on the other hand, may require therapy because of it.
3
Thing I Don't Miss #2: Henmania
When I decided to start a series called ‘things I don’t miss’ I may have bitten off slightly more than I can chew because, come to think of it, most things I don’t like are still around, as I’m not really that old. But the advent of Wimbledon has reminded me of one of my favourite little pet-hates: Tim Henman.
This silly little shit was never good enough to win Wimbledon as a player competing in the era of Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, Goran Isanisevic and the young Roger Federer. Yet, year after year, because he had recently made it to the semi-finals of the fucking Uzbekistan Open the British media would have you believe that their boy was “in sparkling form” and ready to reclaim the trophy for good old Blighty. Some poor sap from the States like John McEnroe would be wheeled onto BBC and, halfway through assessing the chances of realistic contenders, asked fawningly by Sue Barker, her eyes dewy with optimism “How do you fancy our boy Tim’s chances, could this be his year?” To which McEnroe would smile a smile that everyone who wanted to understand would understand and say “Yeah, he’s got a great chance this year, if things go right for him.” The implication being that the “things” which needed to go right mostly involved every other player and their granddad catching the Ebola Virus.
This silly little shit was never good enough to win Wimbledon as a player competing in the era of Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, Goran Isanisevic and the young Roger Federer. Yet, year after year, because he had recently made it to the semi-finals of the fucking Uzbekistan Open the British media would have you believe that their boy was “in sparkling form” and ready to reclaim the trophy for good old Blighty. Some poor sap from the States like John McEnroe would be wheeled onto BBC and, halfway through assessing the chances of realistic contenders, asked fawningly by Sue Barker, her eyes dewy with optimism “How do you fancy our boy Tim’s chances, could this be his year?” To which McEnroe would smile a smile that everyone who wanted to understand would understand and say “Yeah, he’s got a great chance this year, if things go right for him.” The implication being that the “things” which needed to go right mostly involved every other player and their granddad catching the Ebola Virus.
As if this wasn’t bad enough there was the spectre of ‘Henman Hill’, a mound of earth covered in Union Jack-waving loons watching Timmy the Tool fight his losing battle on a big screen. These people only make their other public appearances at royal funerals and the Last Night of the Proms. If everything I’m saying here appears to be Brit-bashing, let me assure that it isn’t. I have far too many friends and relatives from or in Britain to indulge in such a thing. I simply despise the bias and jingoism that oozes out of certain sections of the British media, and ‘Henmania’, as some twisted genius referred to it, summed up all that is worst about it. The infinitely-more-talented Andy Murray thankfully doesn’t attract anything like the same level of fuss from the very Anglo-centric and therefore we’ve been spared a month or so of horrible of flag-waving nonsense what with Timmy’s retirement and the absence of the England football team from Euro 2008. And that is something I will never miss.
Monday, June 23, 2008
1
1973
I wonder how many bloggers use their blogs as 'scales' for aspiring writers? Probably quite a few. I started out thinking it might be that way, but I'm not sure anything I've posted so far brings me any closer to being a writer than I've ever been.
What others were feeling like today #5
1965
There has been another high-flown debate in the House of Lords about (idiotic) amendments to the Homosexual Bill, in the course of which Lord Montgomery announced that homosexuality between men was the most abominable and bestial act that any human being could commit! It, in his mind, apparently compares unfavourably with disembowelling, torturing, gas chambers and brutal murder. It is inconceivable that a man of his eminence and achievements could make such a statement. The poor old sod must be gaga.
The Beatles have all four been awarded MBEs, which has caused considerable outcry. Furious war heroes are sending back their bravely-won medals by the bushel. It is, of course, a tactless and major blunder on the part of the Prime Minister [Harold Wilson], and also I don't think the Queen should have agreed. Some other decoration should have been selected to regard them for their talentless but considerable contributions to the Exchequer.
I don't think a member of the House of Lords could make a statement about homosexuality like that nowadays and get away with it, but I wonder if the view among many high-ranking politicians has changed all that much.
Coward's statement about The Beatles is interesting, given the deification of them in recent times. I suppose it's understandable that some war veterans would view the awarding of the same award to a bunch of hairy musicians as they received for massively courageous acts as a bit of an insult. coward's dismissal of them as 'talentless' is obviously ridiculous, but then there weren't amny more talented people than old Noel. I wonder what he and the war heroes would have made of The Corrs getting an honorary MBE in 2005?
Coward's statement about The Beatles is interesting, given the deification of them in recent times. I suppose it's understandable that some war veterans would view the awarding of the same award to a bunch of hairy musicians as they received for massively courageous acts as a bit of an insult. coward's dismissal of them as 'talentless' is obviously ridiculous, but then there weren't amny more talented people than old Noel. I wonder what he and the war heroes would have made of The Corrs getting an honorary MBE in 2005?
1973
I have decided that the reason one keeps a diary is the compulsion to write something, anything. Secondly, all intending writers are well advised to keep diaries, for pratice, like doing scales. mine are absolutely unstudied. I never pause for an instant to consider whether I write grammatically, or not. No doubt diary-keeping is also a kind of vanity. One has the sauce to believe that every thought which comes into one's head merits recording.
I wonder how many bloggers use their blogs as 'scales' for aspiring writers? Probably quite a few. I started out thinking it might be that way, but I'm not sure anything I've posted so far brings me any closer to being a writer than I've ever been.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
21
Whose line is it anyway? (plus copious link-lurve)
I did something I’m really not proud of the other day.
No, not that.
Not that either, I do have some morals.
Thing is, as a blogger I felt an automatic instinct to post about it. It might be therapeutic in some way. If I wrote about it half as well as it sounds in my head then it would be a great post and people would be interested. It might improve my hit count. It might put new flags on my Feedjit thing. People might link to it. If I was very fortunate someone might even nominate it for post of the month.
But I would have given away a little part of me that I might otherwise only share with those who really know me best. It would essentially be out of context.
Where does the line of what’s appropriate for a blog begin and end? There are many bloggers out there who I read that reveal a huge amount about themselves through their words and pictures. These include my real life friends Darren and Liz, along with the likes of Darragh and Annie. I admire what they do and their courage in doing it but it’s not for me. I have already abandoned my ‘no pictures of me’ policy by putting a little one beside my profile. It’s small and relatively unclear but I’m already unsure as to whether I should leave it there. I’d rather if there was a way it could only appear to those who actually click on my profile.
A lot of the blogs I like are done more or less entirely anonymously, such as Bock, Twenty, Arseblog, Shadows at Sunset, raptureponies and Positive Boredom. I’m sure those who know them in the real world could work them out easily enough but they ain’t giving too much away.
I seem to be veering into the middle ground occupied by folks such as Mulley, Sinead (Gleeson and Cochrane), Rosie and Grandad. You get a very good sense of who they are through their work, but not many personal pictures or anecdotes. Some things are definitely held back, or at least it seems that way.
So I think I’ve just learned where my line is. Funnily enough, my story wouldn’t make for great reading on either Postsecret or The Lives of Others, but it’s still too much for me to share. At least right now.
No, not that.
Not that either, I do have some morals.
Thing is, as a blogger I felt an automatic instinct to post about it. It might be therapeutic in some way. If I wrote about it half as well as it sounds in my head then it would be a great post and people would be interested. It might improve my hit count. It might put new flags on my Feedjit thing. People might link to it. If I was very fortunate someone might even nominate it for post of the month.
But I would have given away a little part of me that I might otherwise only share with those who really know me best. It would essentially be out of context.
Where does the line of what’s appropriate for a blog begin and end? There are many bloggers out there who I read that reveal a huge amount about themselves through their words and pictures. These include my real life friends Darren and Liz, along with the likes of Darragh and Annie. I admire what they do and their courage in doing it but it’s not for me. I have already abandoned my ‘no pictures of me’ policy by putting a little one beside my profile. It’s small and relatively unclear but I’m already unsure as to whether I should leave it there. I’d rather if there was a way it could only appear to those who actually click on my profile.
A lot of the blogs I like are done more or less entirely anonymously, such as Bock, Twenty, Arseblog, Shadows at Sunset, raptureponies and Positive Boredom. I’m sure those who know them in the real world could work them out easily enough but they ain’t giving too much away.
I seem to be veering into the middle ground occupied by folks such as Mulley, Sinead (Gleeson and Cochrane), Rosie and Grandad. You get a very good sense of who they are through their work, but not many personal pictures or anecdotes. Some things are definitely held back, or at least it seems that way.
So I think I’ve just learned where my line is. Funnily enough, my story wouldn’t make for great reading on either Postsecret or The Lives of Others, but it’s still too much for me to share. At least right now.
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