reflective

The scratches are nothing.

A few days of exhibitionism buffed away leaving only those that share the secret of the narrow moment. It could have made the longest day seem even longer. They say walls have ears; sometimes they have talons too.

Better this narrow scrape put to experience and then a move along. We'll flaunt the situation next weekend, maybe a flower to brighten or even to conceal. It will add to the muddy demeanor of sitting together in fields holding the sky back with our outstretched hands.

For now, its about making things shiny.

hop

Sometimes there's a complete unpredictability to events and the last couple of days have been somewhat like that. Agility and an ability to hop over minor obstacles comes in useful as does some flexibility in calendaring.

Such randomness is a key element of a rich experiential world. I'm deciding how much of today's unfinished plans can be wrapped up neatly with a bow whilst I offset them with other adventures.

We shall see.

clonk

The old and trusty Powerbook 12 has had a touch of the clonks for a couple of weeks now. It displayed the little sad folder picture akin to the sad ipod picture that many have seen.

Its not my machine, but I helped fix it, the first time by the time honoured switch off - wait - switch on and astonishingly it went through about thirty minutes of unprompted disk recovery and managed to sort itself out.

As a usually quiet but intensively used machine, it was obvious something more fundamental was wrong, because the disk was now clearly audible as it searched around for files. A few days later the sad folder appeared again, and another similar repair once more rescued it. Cue CCC Carbon Copy Cloner and a couple of hours to copy everything to a replacement disk (the old one from my Powerbook 15, if truth be told).

Half an hour with screwdrivers of the right sort and the case was popped open, the old disk extracted, the new one popped in and then a trial re-boot with it still in pieces. I'm pleased to say everything works. Another half an hour to put it all back together and hopefully this already rather battered machine will continue to run.

mind jump experiment number 1

I thought I'd experiment with some of the Mr Y ideas.

Let's see if the mind jump works.

This is my own variation of the experiment, borrowing a couple of moons from Mars.

Get close to the screen and stare at the big black dot.

If the smaller one starts to disappear then its beginning to work, if the grey specks disappear, then its closer to working. If the black dot starts to get bigger you can probably mind jump.

You'll feel refreshed afterwards in any case. And probably want to try it again.

slope

Sometimes it's all about perspective.

I've spent this week red-lining whilst sinking backwards into an expanding pile of tasks.

I know the theories "A I R" (Action Information Read); "Only handle it once"; "Urgent vs Important"; "Work in the long waves"; "Prioritise"; "Say No" ; "Make a list"

Sometimes things still sort of sneak up from the shadows. It's knowing where to look.

at, through, past, over, under, away, into, behind, ahead, elsewhere, here, there, then, now.

I suppose I usually look forward.

There is fun going forward.

they lied to us

...this was supposed to be the future.
Where is my jet pack?
Where is my robotic companion?
Where is my dinner in pill form?
Where is my hydrogen fueled automobile?
Where is my nuclear powered levitating house?
Where is my cure for this disease?

the end of mr y

I'm reading The End of Mr Y at the moment, where the somewhat penniless Ariel gets involved in thought experiments and physics on behalf of a missing professor. There's bits of Schroedinger's Cat, Derrida's post-structuralist de-centering of the intellect and a chatty, modern form of narrative style. In case some of that sounds barmy, perhaps it is; I don't know yet as I'm only about 40 pages in, but its certainly a good read.

I like the process by which I acquired the book, too. I'd had it recommended. Then someone said I may receive a copy. I didn't, so I added it to my list of things to buy. Then, prior to a business meeting nearby, I was alone in a book store coffee shop, reading a newspaper, which I'd bought earlier. "Special Offer" it said, only "£2.99 at WH Smith's". I had ten minutes before the meeting, so left the bookstore (past a pile of the full-priced books), and around the corner to the nearby WH Smith's. Yes they had it. Yes I could buy it for the special price, but I had to buy the newspaper again. I argued, but then asked the assistant to re-swipe the newspaper already in my possession.

In the cosmos of this book's narrative, it sort of feels right that the book was discovered and earned in this way. Reading the first couple of chapters would explain this further. If I'd seen the prototype tardis outside the book store sooner, then maybe I could have re-arranged the sequence and saved a further 80 pence.

vivienne westwood

A few minutes to spare today, as I passed the Vivienne Westwood exhibition, so I thought I'd stop in for a look. As I arrived, I was the only visitor, although by the time I left it was getting busy.

Westwood designed the emblematic punk rock era clothes, but as one looks at this extensive collection, it is evident that it takes real effort and design to look so casual.


There's layering and tailoring from the most raggedy punk anarchist clothing to the well behaved and highly tailored love jacket of her later work. Fascinating to step through the eras of Pirates and Protestors, through Regency and Victorian tailoring ideas all the time evident that this is the work of a thoughtful seditionary.

sounds of a city

Another city today and have been listening to the sundry sirens and background noise.

I suppose I'm used to London and perhaps didn't expect so much 'blues and twos' activity around here. From where I'm staying there is a sort of natural 'bowl' and perhaps the sound is just carrying around within it. Individual sirens seem to go on for ten minutes whilst moving around the area.

Either that or there's more emergencies here per hour than I've experienced in other places. Its actually early morning when I write this and I've had sound from sirens, drunks, sirens, loud revellers at 2am, more sirens, dawn.

Tuesday will be fun.

Gershwin

A foot-tapping afternoon, as we found ourselves at the Royal Albert Hall, partly via the 452 bus route. A performance of Gershwin tunes, ably danced to by the English National Ballet. Our tickets were for the Grand Tier, and it turned out that we had a box with a great view of the central stage and also the orchestra, and also some nibbles and bubbly waiting for us before we took our seats.

There seemed to be a 'bit of a do' going on in the room next to us too, after initially spotting Lucinda from the Apprentice in a strikingly pink beret with a supporting and well co-ordinated ensemble. Then Rachel Stevens, Paul O'Grady, Maureen Lipman and a few others from show biz, who also seemed to be enjoying their own champagne reception.

A slick performance, with great energy from the cast, from the dancers, through the musicians and even the amusingly manic conductor. The show comprised entirely Gershwin numbers, all recognizable from famous films and mainly accompanied by ballet based dancing.

After this Sunday afternoon performance, we headed to Manicomio just off the King's Road for Gnocci and a dash of red wine.

pollen

Figured out that there must be a high pollen count. Need antihistamines.

Laura Marling in church

"Cross your fingers, hold your toes, we're all gonna die when the building blows". We're part of a loyal group of followers watching Laura Marling singing, in church, on Friday the 13th, that "You're no God".

A simple plan, to meet before the gig, which somehow had a couple of us drinking on the pavement outside the Red Lion behind the church and the others dining Italian in Piccadilly.

Anyway, we all met in the line and were able to link ourselves with the tickets. St James is the church with the little market outside it most days, across the road from the Royal Academy and le Meridien. The queue of people snaked outside of the church grounds and along part of Piccadilly.

Inside, the pews filled fast and we moved from downstairs to the gallery where we grabbed seats with a pretty good view. First up was the accomplished Mumford and Sons, which is a separate band formed from parts of the group that accompany Laura Marling - confusingly it was billed as Melody and Me, so maybe its one of those collectives with rotating band members? Harmonies, plenty of varied folky instruments and a strong five number set. Short pause before a second support band, with plenty of enthusiasm although perhaps not quite the same musicality as the first group.

Laura had been sitting out front for the first act but had sidled into the backstage area during the second act and sure enough, after a short pause for candles to be lit, Laura took to the stage beginning with solo acoustic numbers before being joined by a varied selection of band members.

I've listened to 'Alas I cannot swim', Laura's first haunting album, quite a few times, and found the live versions both precise but still suitably different from the album. Laura's lyrics are quite dark and suggest a life which has felt death's breath and a few unusual encounters. The album is a sort of song cycle with an emotional arc in it like an 'olden days' concept album.

One can't help thinking that the themes of relationships, death and crossings simply provide an initial slightly buried "X marks the spot" from which to project forward other themes in later work. A few new tracks in the set suggested that there's plenty of ideas musically and lyrically in what one assumes to be a busy mind.

Overall a good example of a performer and friends who can just play and sing live well without too much electronica to aid them. An interlude about walking around a graveyard in Birmingham added to the intrigue of some of the lyrics and reinforced my thoughts of a negative image of Emily Strange.

Laura seems to spend time inside her songs when on stage. Aside from the between song chatter, she sings in a manner which often looks to the floor rather than to the audience. The songs are strong, but its not always easy to tell the demeanor of their enigmatic singer.

Here's a fabchannel version of the recent Paradiso gig in Amsterdam.


I am honest now, not a shouter,
I am reformed, forgiven and reborn.
And you're been busy but you've missed me
And I plagued you mind.
You will never go outside,
You will never go back to being blind.

I need shine, I need shine, I need shine,
Step away from my light, I need shine.

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