Music For Your Tape Recorder

Largely thanks to Introducing, I heard some music that's actually recent. I've shattered last year's record number of album purchases (1, 2, 3), though Nights Out has yet to arrive, and Amazon is still looking for a copy of Fourth Drawer Down two months on. Also, Roygbiv is the greatest thing I've ever heard.

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I don't even know why I posted Obama's acceptance speech. Laziness? If you really want to read it that much, Google is your friend. September 2011.

Babies Mother Hospital Scissors Creature Judgement Butcher Engineer

Genetic Engineering single cover art

The common misunderstanding of evolution is that it leads to us (anthropocentric). That is backwards. We are genetically similar to the other primates because we are primates. We are not more advanced than them because 1) we didn't evolve from them and 2) all the primates are occupying respective niches to which they are adapted.

The major difference is that humans are for the most part no longer subject to the environmental pressures which give rise to natural selection and are instead putting pressure on the environment for our own benefit.

Thirty Frames A Second

JB Mason, Self Portrait, c1912

It's been a while since more than two posts were published in a single month, with the exception of the holidays. You may notice the preceding post has origins back in 22/06/05, before this blog actually started. I'm suddenly eager to clear out the drafts sitting in the management screen. The continuing problem being that I can't seem to eke out something publishable. The dullards on the street don't have to worry about editing their thought(s) and putting them onto paper, so to speak. In light of this, I've attached two abortive posts.

The two dreams which I've previously described - Astronomic and Old Bedroom - seem to have been phased out upon mention. Most recently I've repeatedly dreamt of losing a tooth, disturbing me to the point that I had trouble sleeping. A new adaptable classic, Tsunami, has filled some of the void. The cause is always different; but always leads to a scramble up the hill I live on through back gardens and over fences, well ahead of the water. Seems to have been ripped straight from the end of Deep Impact. In fact, I love that scene, and have it on DVD. Which probably proves something about the influence of cinema.

Live Forever

Public Domain, 2006

Death is an absurdity to the living. Those who say they do not fear death, do not believe in it - rather they believe in an afterlife. We have explored our planet, the solar system, and seen beyond the galaxy. Yet death remains terminal, and the experience itself remains open to conjecture.

At the moment, a member of some online forum might be killed by some random event, and that'll be that. But in the coming years, well into the internet's lifespan, the web will become increasingly cluttered with the deceased. That is, their online life will be preserved - MySpace, Facebook, Bebo filled with dormant accounts as shrines. In twenty years we might visit YouTube and see Peter Oakley alive and well, talking, sharing his memories and experiences long after the organic matter that stored them has decayed. Part of him will be preserved electronically, essentially forever.

Poor Leno

Survival means collaboration.
Existing as entertainment, living though your home is razed.
A room of your own that you may pace.
The last specimen.
You fade out alone.
Selected.

Who can bear to be forgotten?

Photo: (The last Thylacine) Public Domain, 1933

But It's All You Want

Screenshot from Videodrome

A long time ago, when there were only four channels and you had to buy a magazine to find out what was on, there was this show on satellite called The Simpsons. The description in What's On TV was "animated adult comedy series" and it was on at 8PM. So naturally, when the BBC started showing it in 1996 it was shown at 6PM - being animated, it of course lended itself to broadcast after the kid's slot. Channel 4 seemed to think similarly three years before they got the rights. Presidential contempt looks ridiculous once South Park came along. Still, If you think you can park kids in front of The Simpsons, let them watch 09x25. Don't go crying to Ofcom.

Memories Are Uncertain Friends...

At the end of June I had almost finished my delivery when the air carried a sharp smell that threw me back a decade. Something about it pulled me back to my first recollectable flight - a night flight to Tenerife, just after I had finished primary school. The poor cabin air always has something about it, so what was unique about the air on that flight?

The More I See You

As anyone out there may have noticed, this blog seems to slip into comas quite frequently. Which is strange given that I have more free time now than when I started three years ago.

After one year, the number of posts fell by a factor of 10. Two-thirds of all the published posts were made in that first year. There's not a lack of material - the number of drafts has increased again.

Having revisited a lot of the early posts (some of which I'd completely forgotten about) I can say the quality has improved even if the novelty has worn off.

Ectal 6: Pulling out of Ricardo and the Dusk is Falling Fast

Cloudscape, Prij, 2008

Like previous holidays I've set off with a number of intentions. Usually this involves actually finishing a book, and always involves trying to turn fragmentary blog drafts into proper articles. Sometimes I get sidetracked with writing a travel-diary, rather than writing vignettes or observational insights.

This year I brought two books: The Lost World, and Neuromancer (yes, its second trip). I never started on either. Although I didn't finish the holdover installments of the GA-Slag, I did finish some non-diary pieces which precede this post. Probably because I've done nothing throughout this holiday - there are more photos of the journey than anything else. Really jettisoned all concerns. I briefly forgot I had a job.

Two weeks later, on the plane again. And for once I was on the scenic side. As we rose into the sky at 8, the Sun halted its descent, and Mt Teide began rising from 270km away. After an extra hour the Sun disappeared and the moon began its long fall, until at midnight only the gloaming was left.

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Ectal 5: Sowing The Seeds of Love

At the start of second year (1999) a new guy, Lee, joined the class from down the coast. The clamour to impress him was embarrassing. I had a good time in 2nd year French with him, but if you want a story that shows how rabid it all was, here's one from Home Ec[onomics].

Ectal 4: Timeless Leaders Stand So Tall

You won't find anyone with anything bad to say about Mandela - he's that great. Though he could have spoken out more against Mugabe, or even against Mbeki. From what I gathered about South Africa from Modern Studies in school, Mbeki pales to Mandela. His AIDS policies have achieved nothing and he is far from politically emotive.

What I'm hearing from Sky News, is that both sides are seeking to reach a peaceful compromise to prevent total collapse in Zimbabwe. To negotiate with Mugabe would require some form of asylum from rights-violation prosecution. He's to far gone to simply step down without receiving immunity. Or are there levels of violation which are acceptable? There is no will for forceful removal. The west is too busy chasing phantoms for its own ends than to be seen to defend justice.

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Ectal 3: Once When I Was Six

I've always been fond of dismantling things to find out how they work. Reassembly didn't always succeed, though construction wasn't a problem (which is a post yet-to-come). Because of my hand at electronics, the Padre let me retune the VCR for Channel 5's launch. Behind the TV, Completely unsupervised. Emboldened by this, I later decided to dismantle an old plug. As a ten year old I was curious as to why there were three pins. Without realising the dangerous path I was on, I inserted the top pin into the socket: Nothing. I then moved onto the two lower pins. One in each hand, oblivious, I inserted the pins into the socket.

I thought the Padre had grabbed me away from what I was doing, but he had left for his night shift. After a minute sitting startled on the floor with my heart racing, aware that no-one else was in the room, I realised the thump on my shoulders was a result of hooking myself into the mains system. I couldn't understand how I hadn't stopped myself from doing something so obviously dangerous - something you think would instantly stand out as a bad idea. Whether my electrocution has anything to do with my off-the-scale skin-conductivity (as confirmed in 3rd year physics) remains a mystery.

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Ectal 2: Clarissa Explains It All

Being the eldest to my 4 years younger brother, I've always wondered what a big sister would be like - mostly because fictional televisual families have at least a sister if not an elder one.

From the forgotten realms of my memory I remembered a girl 4 or 5 years older than me when I was halfway through primary school. She must have been a monitor (that is, a final year pupil who watches over a class during an indoor break because it's raining). For a year or s0 she looked after me until she moved to secondary school. I only saw her twice afterwards.

Early on in her first year she visited the playground during lunch. A seeming tradition since both schools are only a few minutes walk from each other, and I as well as others have done the same. The final time I saw her I was making my way back at the end of lunch, she said hi but I didn't recognise her. What really irritates me is that I can't remember her name, though I'm sure it started with L. Thank you L.

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Ectal 1: Brownsville Turnaround on the Tex-Mex Border

Western Algarve, Prij, 2008

I meant to upload a holding page for the following posts if perchance you thought I was finished with the blog. I'm hoping to use these two weeks to work through my draft backlog - in particular a few short stories and the long overdue finalé of the old site.

Something is very uneventful about this holiday; the yearly flight, the usual destinations - such is travel once Gordo Cooper went higher and farther than any other. Faced with such humdrumity (surely a better pre-existing word for that) it's no wonder I haven't posted since April beyond little observations under my minimal 500 words quotient.

Like a Glittering Prize, I Saw You Up on a Clear Day

Not The Aforementioned Junction, But There Are Roses

There is a single moment, a scene from eight years ago, which is a metaphor for missed opportunity. Whenever I walk through the junction on B St./R St., I flashback to April 2000. Because I lived a fair distance away, I was picked up from school by my parents. On this day I felt particularly isolated when the car drove through the junction, and looking out the window, I saw her walking down the street 90° in the other direction. I was so close, but she didn't know I was there. I wanted to jump out and walk down the street with her. But the car was in motion, and our paths never quite crossed.

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Song With No Name

Once again I find myself unable to complete the pile of drafts waiting to be published. It then occurred to me that I could meet my post-a-month quota by writing about writing - metablogging. I've mentioned the draft backlog a few times before and thought I'd shine some light on the unseen. Perhaps explaining what some of them are about will save me having to work on them. It also prompted me to tidy up.

Roygbiv

Untitled, 2005

Riding up front to the drifting American Dream
In the garden where whitewashed walls and paper bleach vision to a soft yellow glow
Away from the modem, pen in hand, sheets of untouched paper
Afternoons by the window, in earshot of the news from China
April 2001

Fuck You, I Won't Do What You Tell Me

Such a big event I forgot to write this for the 4th of December.

When a candle burns that bright, it goes out not long after it's lit. Beginning 5 years ago, but active for just 18 months, it was the site that stormed the snack bar and crossed Checkpoint Charlie.

The GA-Slag was not my idea. Nor was my idea the GA-Slag:

I Live To Fall Asleep

Untitled Red Clouds, Prij, 2007

I like to sleep, and as a young adult I maximise the hours in which I do just that. But first lies the age old problem of falling asleep - the very thing that keeps me awake.

For those of us with active minds, simply switching off is difficult. When I lie awake in bed, my mind races. It always races when I'm without anything else to do. To give you an idea of how hard it is just to stop thinking: this post was drafted in my head when I tried to blank my mind. For a few minutes I didn't even realise. I hear my voice in my head. As I finalise this post, I'm transcribing my internal stream of consciousness.

It's not that bad since it of course places me cognitively far above the readers of Kidz Newz and the viewers of Big Brother (Oh, how the masses love our Orwellian future). The only way I can escape it and fall asleep is to listen to music. Since I got my iPod Nano for my birthday, I've repeatedly fallen asleep with it on, waking up with the headphones strangling me. I continually fall asleep to Seeing Out The Angel by Simple Minds. And not because I don't like it.

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