Extrinsic 3: Autosuggestion / It's Coming Home

As evidence against humanity, I cite Thursday night's entertainment. Round One of this "Game Show" involved an entertainer reciting the slogan or catchphrase of a product or business and audience members running onto the stage to name it.

Cogito ergo sum I'm lovin' it!

The dire connectivity of the hotel is compounded by the lack of any quality English-language newspapers. All there is, as ever, are Murdoch-owned kidznewz or imitations thereof. A single star outshone by a billion little lightbulbs that blink. The one decent publication is the copy of Private Eye I bought back in Glasgow.

Cogito ergo sum We love it!

The "entertainment" as I speak consists of having a bunch of sassenachs imitate some Scots sayings and activities: namely caber tossing, and saying something like 'Och aye the noo!'. If I see another England flag tatooed or emblazoned across a beachtowel...

[148]

Extrinsic 2: Bit Shifter

I've ditched the PDA. The only reason the batteries last is because a button cell can happily keep the CMOS ticking over. I'd really need to get a modern Lithium powered one.

I'm reading Neuromancer and much like Case, I dream of being back in cyberspace - as with any disconnected drone.

Extrinsic 1: Which is a Building, Which is on Fire

Venus Above Her Birthplace, Prij, 08/07/07 20:43 EEST

Having boarded and seen the leather seats, I was hoping the space between them might just have increased. If anything, they've crammed more into the same space. My brother points out that the brace position is difficult to adopt. As is sitting at a minutely different angle. I tried to see the bright side, Para.

As Glasgow is my local airport, I was expecting to see some damage from last week's incident. But there was nothing visible. However... increased security checks, and armed police, and the Kafkaesque nonsense going through the x-ray machines. I already had to remove my belt in the line, I just walked through without removing my trainers. I suppose three armed guards standing in the one place covers the need for cattleprods.

The sun has set beyond Aphrodite beach and it really is a spectacular view - Venus riding above an infinitely deep crimson curtain. Now that I've got a 512mb card for the camera, it's time to go insane with exposure modes.

[171]

I've Got Plenty of Java and Chesterfield Kings, But I Feel Like Crying. I Wish I Had a Heart of Ice

In the Venusberg, John Collier, 1901

Time was I would get preoccupied trying to recall the rest of a dream from the one segment that popped into my mind in the mornings. It finally prompted me to start writing them down while I could remember them - mostly because some were quite entertaining or deeply fascinating. Then there's the black dogs which sit on my shoulder all day.

I imagine exiles dream of home but wake up with the same feeling. Her face fades under the inertia of time. Just the name is enough to bring the feeling back for a few minutes of rapid eye movement. Eventually, as always, I wake up with that elated feeling in my chest which within seconds veers to obliteration of the soul as reality thumps me square in the heart.

Probably explains why almost all songs are about it. Call me Deacon Blues.

[144]

Blue Light

The Gloaming (Awful Paintbrush Splice), Prij, 2007

I'm using my favourite little gadget to write this. The Padre uncovered it in an office spring-cleaning at IBM. It's a 1999 Palm III branded as an IBM WorkPad - very basic compared to any new PDA. Unfortunately I'm without the data cable and the PC doesn't have an IR sensor (which I was sure it it did). The WorkPad will be replacing the tonne of paper notes that are strewn throughout my room. It's also how I'll be writing whilst in Cyprus next week, and any time I'm away from the computer from now-on. Although I'm a little apprehensive about relying on AAAs and only a minute of backup power. Might turn out to be easier and less stressful to just use paper.

But I Might Never Reach You

"Wrujatou wëb-sögnëh tulanou wrujatifou prajatai, sib smestes röitëëdëjou wräkëšä aþ anemdeizafou nahasai. Ëçë wëb-sögnäh eþ satewai jaami to alirazdlis. Wraajatou Letlavo, sulu saaþefou łafetai ta mërzëh whëb-sögnäh age řodavou þörptysën jaami o çonajou teimi smëstëh välëjai. Sib añereizdalou ëçë."

Maybe that's already apparent. Anyways, catch-up with my happenings next week when I don't have to get up at 0420 for overtime.

Art Decade

World War II in Colour

The way that the Nazis staged themselves and presented themselves, my Lord! I'm talking about the films of Leni Riefenstahl and the buildings of Albert Speer and the mass marches and the flags. Just fantastic - really beautiful.

I agree with Ferry's remarks. He's an art student, not a fucking nazi-sympathiser. We're talking about mid-20th century art and architecture. Perhaps for some it's hard to separate image from history. After all, this was the same period of history in which the greatest act of cruelty inflicted on humanself occurred.