shooting yourself in the foot is alot more painful than shooting yourself in the face. Chances are you aren’t going to be feeling much of anything for too much longer if you shoot yourself in the face.
Fresh off the fingers comes this lyrical stream-of-consciousness creation; bearing thematic and rythmical similarities to this much older piece.
Oh youth of fickle eyes avert
with mindless sighs and vacant strides
directionless and constant tripping over
nothing sweet unsober everything
will be whatever when the great
fail to endevour for the meaning in the thunder
that is heard under the wonder/where we’ll be when it all
crumbles collapsing down upon our aching
heads in dawning understanding
when was all this mess created?
Was it yonder maybe nearer to the present
that gets queerer by the second
hand that’s ticking always onward
always fleeting, never not was in this gleaming
solid state mind engineering
where’s the screaming? should be echoes on the screen
reflecting dreams, reflecting schemes
that cascade into endless scenes fractured
forever by the beam that gets
rejected in the seeing.
Ovaries are thought machines
they spawn all these pathologies
they spawn all these pathologies
Whilst one turns right the other goes the otherway against the flow
or so it seems
it might just find
that in a blink the paths collide.
We’ve read that script and now we’re bored
let’s cash our chips, remake the lord
a different shape to be adored
a different soundtrack will be scored
Whilst i lie hear on the floor.
I decided to have a go at my useless local authority again. Basically the problem is that the obnoxious, incompetent fuckwits will do anything but provide us with a service. Check this link out.
This time I decided that it was the public that are at fault for being so complacent. After all, we pay the council for a service and they don’t provide it. Logically, then, the solution should be to stop paying them until they do provide that service.
Not that my comments in this week’s local press will make the damnedest bit of difference. People have short memories, and once the ice has cleared from the streets they’ll happily go back to bending over and getting shafted up the arse again, like the subservients they clearly are. (Dunfermline Press article).
I think it would be amusing if this virus, a brain-infecting pathogen, is actually the origin of higher brain functions in humans. That in its high-jacking of our dna it has made us essentially what we are today. Even better if it is the source of symbol-based language. That might just be the Burroughsian in me talking though.
PARIS (AFP) – Humans carry in their genome the relics of an animal virus that infected their forerunners at least 40 million years ago, according to research published Wednesday by the British science journal Nature.
The invader is called bornavirus, a brain-infecting pathogen that was first identified in 1970s.
Scientists led by Keizo Tomonaga of Japan’s Osaka University compared the DNA of a range of mammals, including humans, apes, elephants, marsupials and rodents, to look for tell-tale signatures of bornavirus code.
In the human genome, the team found several bornavirus fragments but also in the form of two genes that may be functional, although what they do is unclear.
Until now, the only viruses known to have been handed on in vertebrates were retroviruses, which work by hijacking cellular machinery in order to reproduce.
Retroviruses are effective in infiltrating the germline — the DNA of, which means their sequence, or part of it, is handed on to ensuing generations.
By some estimates, retroviruses account for as much as eight percent of thefor life.
Bornavirus has a different stealth tactic, replicating in the nucleus of infected cells.
The disease owes its name to the German town of Borna, where a regiment of cavalry horses was wiped out in 1885 by a mysterious “heated head” disease.
Later research also found the disease among sheep, llamas, ostriches, cats and cattle, although how it spreads is poorly understood.
The impact of bornavirus on the human genetic odyssey is likely to trigger fierce debate.
The big questions are whether it provided a potential cause ofor innovation in our species, or whether it provided a source for inherited illness — or, conversely, protection.
Bornavirus has not been clearly linked to diseases in humans, although some researchers speculate there could be a link with schizophrenia and other mental disorders.
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An interesting essay by my friend Matt Dalby, a poet and sonic explorer of some merit, as to the lessons poetry could learn from gaming.
Can poetry learn from gaming? Like music and film gaming in the last thirty years has built a massive audience while being at times enormously complex and abstract. Unlike most music and film gaming requires active participation from its audience in a way that is in fact wholly different from what might seem like the analogous processes of reading complex literature. And without intending to be provocative gaming – and I mean both designing and in some cases playing – is a genuine artform. Like film – another technologically enabled artform of the twentieth century – gaming draws on a huge range of disciplines.
Perhaps this is something poetry should learn? That the distinctive and successful artforms of the past hundred years or more have been social in execution and in consumption. This is even true of those forms that use a narrower range of disciplines – the various popular musics from jazz and blues onward for instance. Why should a poem be the work of one person? Why should a poet’s work be solitary? Isn’t the Romantic notion of the solitary genius getting a bit old? In fact isn’t the idea of a writer slightly peculiar? A detached individual creating work not for large groups but for large numbers of detached individuals.
Although in retrospect continuity with older forms can be seen both film and music – as gaming later – invented new ways of communicating with their audience. Film uses shorter scenes, much closer and more distant perspectives, juxtaposition, and a whole range of techniques unavailable on stage without the same technology used by film. Yet for all the novelty of their techniques film music and gaming have been able draw audiences into and guide them through complex sequences of events and ideas. Poetry on the other hand often seems to be more like an arcane kind of crossword.So what does this mean? That the solitary poet should be consigned to history? That poetry should be an essentially social artform? That poetry should use technology to reinvent itself? I don’t know. I’m trying to find an answer. While slow starting mutapoem is one possible attempt to create a social poem. Sound poetry has been another field of investigation concentrating on the technological aspects this time. In recent months I’ve felt that somehow using gaming might be another avenue to explore.
I love Ayn Rand. Not her philosophy or her books or even her as a person. She just makes me laugh, is all. I’d love to rewrite Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead as a parody but I fear such an endevour might be redundant. Plus, somebody has probably already done it.
Rand celebrated the rational and independent individual, but she herself was often deeply depressed, powerfully sensitive to negative reviews of her work, and likely addicted to amphetamines. She praised originality, but the subculture she created to promote her ideas was inhospitable to debate. She aspired to high seriousness, but her writing was firmly grounded in Hollywood kitsch.
This bit is the best….
Rand insisted that contradictions did not exist if reality was perceived accurately.
Muwahahahaha!!! You go girl! Absolutists are the craziest peoples.
Today is the day. Today is the day that i drag myself out of the blissful bubble of non-activity that marks such extended periods of ‘holiday’ and leap gazelle like back into the stream of productivity that has been lurking on the borders of my consciousness tapping its feet impatiently for neigh on two weeks.
That was the plan, anyway.
First, some background. My girlfriend is a teacher. It is a proud and noble profession that requires a garguantian amount of hard work and focus. Even when they finish work, and they’re not being paid, there is work to be done. Marking, gathering of resources, planning of lessons. All done, nay, expected to be done even when they’re not being paid to do it. As reperation for working harder than their better paid peers, such as doctors and lawyers, the job comes with massive amounts of paid, periodic downtime.
So, whilst most people under employment get a few days, maybe a week, off for xmas teachers get quite a bit more. In the case of christmas it’s two weeks. Two whole paid weeks. During the summer it’s quite a bit more than that. Then there are the odd half terms as well. You may think this is a pretty sweet deal, and it is, but don’t for one second believe that it isn’t well earnt – because it is. Being a primary/secondary school teacher is insanely hard work. If your heart isn’t in it your screwed. Luckily, my girlfriend’s heart is well and truely in it, but even then the stress is enough to kill most people.
Anyway, during these periods of time off I find it extremely hard to work myself. I find it hard to write, i find it hard to blog, because I can taste it in the air – relaxation, escape, the ever growing bubble of bliss. I tried this christmas, i really did. I didn’t throw up a post saying I’d be back online in janurary because I honestly thought I could do it. I honestly thought that I could blog over xmas. Even though I could feel the bubble enveloping me I tried to throw up the odd link. It was a fools errand. As my hits began to diminish in the wake of mass seasonal consumption I still tried to be active. Eventually though I just gave up.
But today is the day. Today is the day my girlfriend has gone back to work. I have the house and the PC to myself. I’m determined, filled with true grit. I don’t usually make new years resolutions, finding them pointless. In fact, about four years ago I made the ultimate new years resolution: To never, ever again make a new years resolution. I’ve been doing pretty well at keeping to that self-made promise but this year I am taking the turning over of the annual clock as an opportunity to strengthen my resolve in every way, to be more studious; in my writing, my blogging, my reading, even in my viewing and housework duties. I shall approach each with true grit and dedication. I will go at them with the methodical machine like resolve of the T-800. And today is the day it begins.
But then I found that my friend Chris had sent me a link through facebook. A link to the entire ‘infinity welcomes careful drivers’ audio book written by the creators and writers of the seminal Red Dwarf, read by Chris Barrie, and detailing and expanding everything about Red Dwarf that makes it great. So, then I was lost for about an hour as i listened and chuckled. My steely resolve started to evaporate until, with the addition of espresso, it began to solidify once again.
In revenge, I have decided to pass on the seeds of procrastination to you. The whole book on youtube, every bit lined up in a playlist, to see if you can fare better than myself. Can you stop listening after just one hour?
Well, can you?!?
Below, parts one, two and three. Then, if you want more, it’s off to youtube with you to autoplay the playlist. Good luck!
That pretty much describes the past 5 days for me, and its been awesome. I just hope i can stop at some point…
After fussing and fretting on making the best damn espresso my new toy is capable of I’ve decided that, fuck it, I’m just happy i can have decent coffee whenever i like. I just don’t have the focus or money to blow on being a full-on espresso geek. I’m thinking about swearing off instant coffee all together though, as it seems it doesn’t mix well with espresso. Kinda like alternating between whisky, wine and beer all night and waking up in the morning unable to speak, only it’s more like your organs are trying to crawl urgently out of the nearest available orifice.
The important thing seems to be keeping the machine clean.
Anyways, I’m off to drink excessively and scheme interesting posts for the new year. Here’s another too much coffee man comic strip to squish through your mind grapes. Be sure to check out the too much coffee man website for more.
The Advent season is a fun time. For many Christians, it is the happiest season of the year. The joy comes from the anticipation: “Joy to the world, the Lord has come. Let earth receive her king.”I do not desire to dim the lights of Christmas, but it might be helpful to some to hear what the stories of Jesus birth are really about.There are four versions of the life of Jesus. We call them the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Only two of the versions say anything about the birth of Jesus.Mark, the first of the Gospels, begins the Jesus story with Jesus as an adult. John, the last Gospel written, likewise says nothing about the birth of Jesus. Matthew tells the birth story in only a few short paragraphs. Luke’s version of the beginnings of Jesus is four times as long as that of Matthew.Those two versions are very different. Luke plays with a much larger cast. His flair for the dramatic is pronounced. He includes an abundance of poetry and music with the support of angelic hosts.Reconciling the two versions has been tried by many, but never with success. They are two different stories. They each have their own distinctive version of the events that surrounded the birth of Jesus.
What a difference 20 years makes! On Dec. 17, 1989, the still-infant Fox Broadcasting Co. aired the first episode of “The Simpsons,” the animated show about a dysfunctional family from Springfield that has since become the longest-running prime-time series in American history. It’s hard to overstate the show’s impact. It has spawned a merchandising empire “Simpsons” air freshener, anyone?, been at the center of a culture war Barbara Bush called it “the dumbest thing I’d ever seen” and inspired a hit movie not to mention comedy writers’ rooms everywhere. Plus, “d’oh!” is now in the dictionary.Thursday marks the show’s two-decade anniversary – an event that serves as a reminder not only of the show’s extraordinary staying power, but also the extent to which it’s disappeared from the cultural conversation. While “The Family Guy” and “South Park” have kicked up controversy – tackling subjects like Scientology and abortion – “The Simpsons” seems to have aged from envelope-pushing misfit to grandfatherly institution. But as John Ortved argues in “The Simpsons: An Uncensored, Unauthorized History,” an oral history of the show’s tumultuous rise and creative demise, the “Simpsons’” legacy continues to be felt everywhere from “Wall-E” to Barack Obama’s speechwriting.Salon spoke to Ortved over the phone about the show’s effect on television comedy, Marge’s recent Playboy cover, and whether it’s finally time to pull the plug.
Sorry about the deadness. Man, I been fucking working mah fingers to the bone. Christmas shopping, tidying the house. I haven’t slept past 8:30am for the past three days. It’s not good for my laconic soul, it sure ain’t.
Seriously, I thought i’d have time to throw up some links. I’ve been collecting them for this exact purpose, but I been so worn out that I just couldn’t be arsed. Oh well, I’m gonna make up for it now.
So, these links. I haven’t had time to check them out but they look interesting.
For all those who are kicking back during the yuleness with a smidge of webness. These are for you.
Happy Xmas y’all
as I have previously discussed I’m not very vigilant at blogging at the weekend. That doesn’t mean that I don’t care though and so I have tried to collect some links and stuff that i could post at some point before the deep dark shadow of monday claims the lives and souls of working people all over the world, you know, to show that you have my deepest sympathies. I only hope that these baubles and trinkets of interweb munchiness can relieve the gnawing agony that is Sunday
You know what? It’s been a while since I’ve spent any considerable amount of time listening to rage against the machine, so today I’m gonna listen to all their stuff on spotify! I does like them i does…. *sigh*
*snippity* *snip* *snip*
For years we had bleak visionaries like William Gibson telling us of a dystopian Cyberpunk future – a high tech, low life world which is pretty much happening all over the first world right now only not quite as high tech and a little more leaning towards the low life. Then along came the delusional Steampunk movement with its laughable, watered down, gothic obsession for Victorian aesthetics – its devotees dressing up in gimpy Victorian garb and making modern technology seem more visually appealing by sticking the screen of a laptop inside a brass frame that used to house a sepia toned photo of your great grandmother.
Forget all that jibberish. It’s entirely useless I say.
The future is Paraffinpunk!
So impressed am I with paraffin that I’ve decided to start my own subculture, only unlike Steampunk, Paraffinpunk is actually useful and not at all based on fantasy and speculative fiction. Sure you can still wear crazy goggles if you want to, but not for any aesthetic purposes you must understand. When tinkering around with paraffin under pressure and methylated spirits to prep a vaporiser, you’re maybe gonna want to wear goggles just in case of flame-out.
Paraffinpunk is not about fashion, ladies and gentlemen, it’s about survival. Sure, a lot of paraffinalia can be aesthetically pleasing, but it’s also bloody useful and nothing maintains that whole punk rock ethic more than when you switch off your electricity for good and fire up a Tilley Stormlight – flipping the bird in anarchistic defiance to the overpriced power supplying conglomerates.
Paraffin is still relatively cheap. Shop around, and if you buy in bulk, you might get it for as little as 60 pence a litre. But even if it is more expensive, it’s still worth it, for paraffin is bloody efficient. Take the Tilley Stormlight, for example. For a pint and a half of ‘future fuel’ aka paraffin you’ll get up to 12 hours of heat and light. That’s remarkable.
Shit, you can even run a diesel powered automobile on paraffin, and it turns out it’s actually better for the engine since it prevents winter waxing from occurring. The only difference between your summer grade diesel and winter grade diesel is that the latter has more paraffin in it. Fact.
Sleep deprevation is a funny thing. The mind, in this state, becomes very raw. Emotions spark up and rock your entire body. I was washing up and a cascada song nearly made me cry. I saw a photo of a friend from film school on facebook and suddenly i missed him so much i wanted to jump on a plane and fly to his house. Thinking clearly isn’t paticularly easy. constructing a blog post of multiple links comes over as a very forboding exercise. My eyes ache. Waves of euphoria lap at my sensorium at random intervals.
I had a friend whom i’m not really in touch with much lately. He was the master of sleep deprevation. On several occasions that i know of he stayed up for as many days as possible so he could reach a state where he would halucinate. He works for an ISP these days and I imagine he’s still not sleeping much. Computer related activities seem to bring it out in people, something to do with the trance state one can obtain staring into that LCD glow with your fingers feeding the machine; like a feedback loop.