Friday, 6 November 2009
kiss the night
Sometimes I think Captain Beefheart was right.
Singin through you to me; thunderbolts caught easily
Shouts the truth peacefully Eeeeeee-lec-tri-ci-teeeeeeee
High voltage man kisses night to bring
the light to those who need to hide
their shadow deed
Go into bright find the light and know that friends
don't mind just how you grow
Midnight cowboy stains in black
reads dark roads without a map
To free-seeking electricity
Lighthouse beacon straight ahead
straight ahead across black seas to bring
Seeking eeee-lec-tri-ci-teeeee
High voltage man kisses night to bring
the light to those who need to hide
their shadow-deed
hide their shadow-deed
Seek electricity...........
(This one's for Sparky)
Thursday, 5 November 2009
duck or grouse
Back to the UK and a chance to replenish my toiletries bag with a new duck. I'm not sure what happened to the last one, but it had raised the occasional smile whenever my luggage was searched until its tragic loss somewhere in Canada a year ago.
Perhaps it thought it was a goose?
Actually, there has been something of an overload of shampoos and toiletries at this hotel, with 7 bottles containing different substances, plus a complete separate set of massage oils and soaps on some sort of mixing slate,
And don't get me started on the other soaps in tins or the array of sponges and special salts in the bath rack.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
payant
Unusual for me, but I've reached that point where I'm planning when I can get the next decent sleep.
Normally, I can get by with just a modest amount, but I've got that slightly fuzzy head feeling that is not quite a headache but could so easily become one.
I know its not intake related but more a function of continued output. Even with my gappy travel plans today, the downtime won't be long enough to fix it.
I'm observing that it seems strange to be planning the next sleep, rather than the next party. Checks and balances, I suppose.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Rue de Wakening
Another early start today as my blackberry alarm prised me from sleep at what seemed way too early.
Tea before sunrise and then off to meetings.
It was only by early evening that I realised I'd only grazed on a croissant and some fruit for the whole day.
I remembered I'd stashed some leftovers from a huge carrier bag of take-away lunch yesterday so picked through that before heading to an evening 'dinner' which had somehow been converted to an evening drink and nibbles.
Back in my room, I've acquired a snack and now working in the hotel dressing gown I'm wondering if opening the doors to the balcony was such a bright idea in the evening. Some little buglets have squeaked their way in and although they don't look like mosquitoes, they seem very attracted to the white of the dressing gown. I tried diverting them by squirting some expensive hotel cologne in the far corner of the room, but they seem to prefer colour over aroma.
Will need to check ankles for signs of bug damage in the morning.
Time for zed.
Monday, 2 November 2009
novel location
The rain kept me awake last night. I'd opened the door to the balcony but the scree sound from the gulls gave way to first a gentle tapping and then a later thudding of rain against the glass and the floor. Later there was also a rumble of thunder from the nearby hills.
Luckily I was sleepy enough for it to only mildly disturb me although I did wake again just before my alarm was due to ring in the early morning. Still enough rain for me to select both a waterproof jacket and an umbrella before leaving the hotel.
Fortunately, the sun decided to arrive around mid morning and creates a wholly different tone.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
itinerary
Saturday, 31 October 2009
are you made of stardust too?
Barely enough time to visit the asylum today, caught in our own madness.
I'd strayed late on Friday and the expected visitors were already drinking the wine. Saturday mixed elements and a walk through leaf strewn paths past Japanese trees, twisted arches dripping with pods of seeds and winding stone stairways to broken and barred doorways.
Later, we stood together outside and looked at the brown sky and the moon, swirling behind blue smoky clouds.
Friday, 30 October 2009
beispiel der paranormal im london
Here I am around the Aldwych with the approach of Halloween and I can just make out a few unexpected ghost trails on the streets.
They are easier to see on the big version of the picture, and I hear there will also be quite a few white apparitions around the City on Saturday evening.
Continuing an orange theme further this week, extreme pumpkins is certainly worth a visit and this year has an even more impressive site.
Or maybe a stroll around the flickr Graves, Tombstones and Cemeteries web site with some supporting music.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
I'll pencil you in, even if its to scribble you out
I think I've only been into St Stephen's Tavern once. It's the pub with the big light on the left of this picture.
I'd arranged to meet someone and we picked 'the pub opposite Parliament' because we both knew where it was. It subsequently became another setting in the Triangle, near the beginning when Jake meets Clare and Bigsy before they find out the news about Brian. The graphite sky might have been over Sloane Square, but its near enough.
Using a situation in this way can be a little like advanced people watching. Whilst waiting for someone to show up, instead of just reading a paper there's a whole world to be plotted.
I'm pretty sure its only around this time of year that I think this way, but I'm also convinced that the lip glossy person across from me, scribbling with a pencil into a small notebook, is up to something similar.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
car for sale...well auction
One of the fun things about writing "The Triangle" is knowing that most of the places described in it exist and that I've had some reason to be at the locations. Not necessarily for an assignation with an American ex-militia spook, but maybe for a cocktail or cup of coffee.
But my interest was raised today, when I saw that one of the 'exotic cars' I described in an early chapter has its real life counterpart and is indeed up for auction this very day at Battersea Evolution, just over Chelsea Bridge.
Darren Collins appears in the early chapters of The Triangle and mysteriously has enough money to buy something like this, which is a sort of racing car that has been made street legal.
I'll be wondering how much the real one fetches, although I'll be sitting on my hands. Bid here
Update: Thanks to an email correction, someone has pointed out that Darren's car would have been an orange McLaren. Click the picture from rashbre central parking garage to see the real one.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
the clocks wait so patiently on your song
"C'mon", I was instructed this morning. "We're going to make the most of the sunshine". After a slightly confused start because some of the clocks had reset themselves and others hadn't, we headed for some late, no make that early, lunch.
Blue skies, yellow dapple across layered tree colours and a certain crunchiness underfoot. A lovely day, sunny corner table, mellow wine and some time for plans.
A marked contrast with yesterday when I'd been traversing a crazily overfilled store simultaneously selling Halloween, Guy Fawkes, Christmas and even Easter products (hot cross buns). I couldn't work out how the sheer volume of shoppers and totally full car park aligned with the credit crunch.
Today's location restored tranquillity, although by this evening I've also been quietly packing bags for travelling again.
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Cairo practice
James sheltered on the edge of a dune. The vestigial grass had a razor sharp edge, scratching his arm as he slithered into a comfortable position. The Subaru was parked about 200 metres further away, concealed behind another dune. A long way ahead, he could see the tiny outline of the truck, heading towards him in a kind of shimmer from the heat. It seemed to be running above the ground because of the heat haze and he could understand how people thought they could see water in the desert.
The truck's progress was also almost silent initially, and then he started to hear a whine from an American military grade diesel engine. He'd heard the sound before, in Germany where there were many of these trucks, used around the bases, but here it seemed displaced.
Through the sound he started to notice a further noise, a slow throb getting quickly louder. He looked around and could see a small speck in the sky, not a bird, it was bigger and tracking the path of the truck. A helicopter, it looked like an Apache as it moved closer. An attack helicopter, carrying a fair array of armaments. By now the truck was less than 800 metres away, still proceeding at a steady speed. The Apache was still high in the air, but then suddenly, but rather languorously, the helicopter let go of a missile of some kind. It didn't fly straight, but took a lazy path, like the casual throw of a soft toy from an adult to a small child.
But whatever it was, it was going to hit the truck. A second or so later, there was a flash and it was as if time had moved from casual to accelerated in a split second. As the missile hit the truck, a white flash exploded in a vertical line from the ground to two or three hundred metres in the air. The power of the explosion seemed completely out of proportion to the previous few seconds of activity and James instinctively sheltered his face with his arm, the same one that had been cut a few moments earlier by the grass blade.
The helicopter was not expected and had made its intentions clear. In a slightly muffled way, he could hear a shrill electronic sound and he realised that the helicopter was locking on to his Subaru and was planning to vaporise it in the same way as the truck. He decided to bury himself in the sand rather than attempt to run. That way, if the chopper was mainly looking for vehicles, it may not spot a lone person on foot. In the far distance he saw a momentary flash from the ground and then noted a black line in the sky. Someone a long way away had launched a surface to air missile. The black trail weaved through the air towards the helicopter. He saw the Apache bank first left and then right as well as ejecting what looked like hot metal strips. But it was too late. The SAM made contact with the helicopter and in a much yellower fireball than the truck's explosion, he could see the helicopter drop to the desert floor like a stone. He decided to lay low for longer in case there were any more surprises, but no, a few minutes later he was preparing his escape in the Subaru, alert to the thought that whoever fired the surface to air may be heading his way.
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