Friday, October 31, 2014
I've rediscovered and polished up (almost) this old timer, he may well make the trip to Bridge of Orchy. A wild and remote place well know known for it's fire, floods and pestilence and occasional white man blues jams. I'm also thinking hard about the great bacon roll and brown sauce conundrum. Anyway as it's Halloween here's a grim but reasonable offer from the dark side of civil engineering and building contracting.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Well maybe or maybe not, turns out there were a load of cats used to portray the main cat character in the Coen Bros "Inside Llewyn Davis", a film about an irritable and dysfunctional singer-songwriter's existential breakdown and subsequent failed recovery whilst accompanied by a cat. I've no sympathy for the foul mouthed Llweyn Davis but as the film progressed I grew more anxious over the welfare of the cat(s). In true Coen Bros style the story was pretty much irrelevant and the cat just drifted in and out as if to make some vague and unnecessary point. An occasional, visual cat that is a feather in the wind if you will, a metaphor for fate etc. So an interesting film but it didn't endear me to folk music or wooly jumpers or New York in 1961 but the cat(s) need recognised for their improvised and measured performances, is there to be an Oscar CATegory this year?
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
|Photo by Sharon Reid|
Monday, October 27, 2014
|Fear not for the future, that never helps; so here's something that's true and relevant.|
Sunday, October 26, 2014
The leaves turn brown, amber and red, the nights are longer and colder. The world of living outside and sitting and avoiding wasps and flying beasts is a faint memory. There is a damp taste to the air, root vegetables return to the tables, soup becomes attractive and the logs are laid out and stockpiled for the coming cold. The grass stubbornly tries to grow but slowly gives up the fight and, one by one, the wild birds return to the feeders now that the harvest of insects and berries is giving no more nourishment. Winds pick up and fluffy clouds scurry across the sky, as if they had a very important appointment over in Norway or somewhere past the May Island. I look about for some thicker shirts and find coins, stale sweets and unfamiliar pens buried deep in winter jacket pockets. I wont need sandals or plimsolls either, not for a while now. In the distance the oil refinery lights are bright, the hot orange flare burns into the sky, some futile and temporary warmth but no match for the big and hostile weather systems, circulating and out on the razz, looking for trouble and finding it. Just when we're settling into this pattern, looking forwards and checking the horizon, I'm all easy-peasy and going with the seasonal flow...along comes the pooh-sticks envelope. Suddenly concentration, commitment and a steady hand are all required.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
RIP to the often abrasive but highly talented and influential bassist Jack Bruce. One of Scotland's finest. I only found this clip, one I've not seen before, thanks to a Twitter storm following the announcement of Jack's passing. It features Jack on the classic red Gibson EB that I coveted as a teenager and also Eric Clapton using (way too much) wah wah and noodling whilst playing on "the Fool", a hand painted Gibson SG that has also become something of a rock legend. Meanwhile Ginger Baker just hammers the drums and looks manic. Nothing new there then.
In other news on the domestic front; I painted the bathroom and cleaned out and also polished the solid fuel stove. Blissful feeling getting these jobs out of the way.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
|I present, the actual, one and only milk bomb original.|
Who really understands the unsung, unheard of and unclear world of peanut butter based art? Founded in California in the late fifties by a disillusioned college professor and pentagram designer, the hidden school of PB&J art has struggled to gain recognition and respect. Only now, now that people generally "know better" is it emerging from it's undoubted dark age and gaining some kind of critical acclaim. "It's all too much, too late" some say, other's stay silent and are content to read minds because that's what they've always done. As for me I was an early convert/adopter and I have remained faithful despite weight gain, weight loss and financial difficulty. That's just how it is when you try to seek out the best things in life, obtain them and hold them tightly to your chest.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
i've got a dream about buying some land i'm gonna give up the booze and the one night stands, going finally settle down in a quiet little town and forget about everything or alternatively i might buy a porsche, cheaper than ferrari and more reliable than a horse. take out to the edge, right over some hedge and (truly) forget about everything. i used to think that it was so easy but then got allergic and a little sneazy now i'm growin' i'm growin' older. here comes the moonlight shining on some carbuncle it sees me out of here and into the jungle but i'm no rollin', i'm no rollin' stone. no not me, just a beatle and a player and a closet stoner.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Whenever Halloween might be it's not today but here's my offering to the gods of trashy festivals, autumn, winter and commercial indecency. Almost all my own work and now I've abandoned it to allow nature and the dark forces of the season to have their way and so return it back to the soil. That's how it should be. Remarkably no fingers were cut and no persons or animals injured in the long creative process that led up to this picnic table moment.
Monday, October 20, 2014
As it's been a birthday weekend and therefore busy, sociable and altogether web unfriendly. I've not been in the least bit bothered about posting anything so here is a brief and truly unrepresentative set of little gems and images that fail to capture much. The panic will of course be over very soon and by at least 0800 tomorrow and normal life will have resumed in all it's complex and absurd splendour.
Friday, October 17, 2014
Most Friday afternoon's I wheel home via John Whyte's butcher shop in the village of Limekilns; I get some things there for the weekend you might say. Crushed on the Fife coast between shipbuilding and industrial sites it's a quaint and attractive wee town, there's a couple of pubs, a cafe (bike advert), a wee shop and not much else, apart from the butchers which survives and slumbers on in a precious and unglamourous way. No till, no card machine, no pre-prepared nonsense and no overselling and no bargains, everything is a lot dearer than you find in the stupid supermarkets. That's because it's proper stuff, tasty and fresh and the regular customers keep coming back, often from quite a distance. As a business model it's probably fatally flawed for sustainability but it has a soul, something you won't encounter when you shop with the big boys.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Wistfully seeking out the apple page that demonstrates the new iMac Retina 5 with it's umpteen megapixal screen and more bells and whistles than you could ring or blow. Sadly all I got was the broken image above. It's still quite impressive though (based on the front page not the dead demo)...the final killer blow for the TV this time?
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
A club devoted to fighting that may or may not exist yet it does exist in the form of the real tribute clubs that are based around it's fictional plot which may or may not exist depending on which one of the many well formed and/or ridiculous theories that you might subscribe to. Of course you may well have a life and not be bothered by this or by the self described and prescribed rules of film discipleship and ritualistic blogging. I don't really know but it's damn close to fifteen years since it was all released and unleashed upon a leaden and unsuspecting world. The consequences are still with us and reverberating around real and imagined worlds today.
So I'm still dicking around with guitars and in between important house related tasks have been making slow and confused progress with the various projects and masterpieces that are scattered around the place. You see when it comes to putting it all together there are so many options and few if any parts are actually a standard size so getting the right fit or even an easy fit can be struggle. Of course wood and plastic parts can be modified with the application of the correct tools and steady hand and more importantly a keen eye. Also as a wise man once said you should really measure twice and cut once, that is the law. It all boils down to making sure that the guitar neck pocket is as good a match for the neck and that's a fine trick if you can pull it off. So the ghost guitars are slowly rising from the dead (or at least a coma or a pretty deep session of intoxicated sleeping); next.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
It's an awful and tragic tale but one that suffers from some strange pieces of media reporting as well as hype and hysteria. I'm glad it's thousands of miles away and in another country, one with a bizarre legal system it seems. Anyway in one of the regular radio bulletins today I caught a South African reporter with a very strong accent give the following brief report: "Oscar Pistorius was in court today, as usual in a plain shirt, tie and wearing a duck suit." You may need to repeat it a few times. This trial and the sentencing fiasco will never be the same again for me, whatever the outcome. That's unfortunate.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
|After the fire|
Saturday, October 11, 2014
When it comes to that awkward time of year when all your stocks of precious logs are down or reduced to white ash blowin' in the wind, who are you gonna call? Well it might be an idea to call the logline or in fact visit the logline premises and get yourself a log delivery arranged so you have a nice selection of logs. That's just what we did today and now, after a cash exchange and a fair bit of labour and humping of logs the log store is nearly full and ready for whatever seasonal variations and dreadful conditions the wild Scottish winter may throw at us. Of course I'm not smug about this, our circumstances and rewards are out there, moulded into the path that the universe is determined to take us upon. We stand (and sit occasionally), watching the skies, daydreaming and ever ready for the consequences and the awful but fully deserved fate that awaits us. There, I've said it all now.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Thursday, October 09, 2014
On reflection then: There's an old Polynesian folk tale that says when somebody dies their soul is taken deep into the ocean and washed clean in the mighty Pacific currents from whence you first came. Whilst the cleaning process is going on your soul is held steady and you relive all the happy moments of your life and you are enriched. The happiness breeds peace and acceptance and in a new and tranquil state your soul ascends slowly through the blue waters to be warmed by the first rays of the dawning sun filtering down into the deep. At this point you are, as if by magic or by the gods, transformed into an Angel Fish and you become conscious and aware but with no sense of purpose other than to be a fish. In this new and blissful state you live on until the cycle of life is complete for the fish you now are and you merge finally with the ocean and drift away with the tides and all the tiny particles and creatures borne by them. It's an interesting theory but not one I can't really subscribe to with any degree of enthusiasm...tomorrow I'll go to the cinema with the kids and watch the Boxtrolls, thereafter life may then begin to make more sense.