Saturday, April 28, 2007

[misty rain] gleaming swish of asphalt

It's 19:22 on a Saturday evening and the light is slowly fading.

The air is full of misty rain which has covered the dereks, the three new buildings at various stages of construction and the concrete fence surrounding the vast earth-dug site.

The sound of the swish of tyres on asphalt through the open balcony door is all the sound there is, except for the idiot drilling in the wall in the flat above. I'll go up shortly to terminate him.

The ecologically sound lamp in the living room gives a sulphur yellow glow to an already golden parquet floor and I sit adjacent, typing this to you.

At least I was.

Actually, I've just skipped onto the balcony and the scene below is pure cityscape and yet I recall it twelve years ago here - the edge of geography, the new housing area with the road petering out into a sand dune which ran down to the river.

Now they call it the Riviera and it features casino, Imax theatre, skating rink and a foreshore of Miami type housing. I prefer it the way it was.

Do you hunger for rain as I do? All my bitter-sweet moments were in such rain - I don't know, it stirs something inside and helps one forget.

I wish there were a pub somewhere within walking distance.

[marshall tucker band] laid back music

The Marshall Tucker Band were from the early 70s and played a flute, fiddle and piano dominated, very laid back and some said, quite loose and rambling music. Closest bands and singers of a similar ilk were Allman Brothers, Elvin Bishop and maybe the Eagles to an extent.

For a Britisher who didn't exactly grow up with American country music, I still liked their harmonies and there was one song which stood out for me: "In my own Way" which was quite relevant to a certain wife of mine:
I know sometimes you think I don't love you ... but I can't act like we just met all the time

And I can say without a doubt you're the only love I'd ever find

There's a special place in my heart that’s occupied by you;

There ain't no one on God's earth gonna take your place

And I can say without a doubt you're the only love I'd ever find

And in my own way I love you

And in my own way I need you

And in my own way I've got you

... and your love.

The lyrics were one thing but the totally unhurried nature of the song and the almost conscious way they dropped into minutes long instrumental phases twice, as if they were gathering their thoughts for the next verse, was quite appealing.

Sadly, I can't access this song on the web but I have found one of their other numbers in emasculated, awful midi form. I'm using Midi Shrine to give readers 48 hour access to "Heard it in a Lovesong", which was their only commercial success.

This can be accessed by clicking here.

I'm gonna be leavin’ at the break of dawn.

Wish you could come but I don't need no woman tagging along.

So I'll sneak out that door couldn't stand to see you cry.

I'd stay another year if I saw a tear drop in your eye.

Heard it in a love song [chorus repeated].

The Marshall Tucker Band.

[saturday quiz] opening lines of novels

Half a mark for the book, half for the author:

1 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,....

2 It was love at first sight. The first time Yossarian saw the chaplain he fell madly in love with him. Yossarian was in the hospital with a pain in his liver that fell just short of being jaundice.

3 At the beginning of July, during a spell of exceptionally hot weather, towards evening, a certain young man came down on to the street from the little room he rented from some tenants in S--- Lane and slowly, almost hesitantly, set off towards K---n Bridge.

4 Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

5 It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

6 It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

7 Renowned curator Jacques Sauniere staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery.

8 Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

9 Mr. Sniggs, the Junior Dean, and Mr. Postlethwaite, the Domestic Bursar, sat alone in Mr. Snigg's room, overlooking the garden quad at Scone College.

10 It ws one of the mixed blocks, over on Central Avenue, one of those blocks that are not yet all negro. I had just come out of a three-chair barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little money to have him come home.

Answers here.

[blogfocus saturday] here's to your good health

1 Tom Paine minces no words when he is annoyed about something and this is no exception:

The prigs at Alcohol Concern believe (like so many other Statist swine) that they know better than us how to bring up our children. Both my daughters were introduced gradually to alcohol from a young age in the French manner, with a view to their learning to appreciate quality wine in joyful moderation. Understandably, Alcohol Concern's demand to criminalise such an approach, has brought Devil's Kitchen into full, fine, fulminating, foul-mouthed form.

2 Spicy Cauldron also has something to say on the Alcohol Concern matter:

Introducing alcohol from an early age, educating children as to its proportionate usage and enjoyment, is a far more effective barrier to drink problems developing in later life than banning alcohol outright until a child is no longer a child at all, but an ill-informed adult with an awareness that the taboo can then be indulged in with gay abandon and little in the way of social controls, next to no risk of a prison sentence for anti-social and extremely violent behaviour.

Alcohol Concern, please take note: a call for greater education would have been warmly received as sensible and considered. Prohibition and criminalisation never work, and it is only right that you receive flak for suggesting these as appropriate courses of action for government to take.

3 Russell Roberts, at Café Hayek,gets sooty on coal:

I love it when the bootlegger and the Baptist are the same guy. The WSJ ($) reports:

The founder of a group that ran a series of newspaper ads attacking the coal industry for selling a product that they called "filthy" says the campaign is ending.

The effort, promoted as pro-environment, was sponsored by a rival energy company, a natural-gas-production company, and sparked a round of protests from members of Congress and trade associations.

4 The only problem with what is otherwise, here, an excellent blog is Tony Emmerson's refusal to take comments. Still, the post is good, for all that:

For years my dear Grandfather kept a daily record of his barometer readings. I remember as a child seeing the book in which he noted and plotted the twitch of a needle. The world was a small place then. All the boffins doing their sophisticated works at the Met Office (apart from that hot weather girl who was the sister of somebody famous) could tell me nothing more important than the contents of that slim and faded volume. There was something profound laid in those years of carefully drawn lines of different coloured inks, even if they told a story that everyone around me already knew: Buxton has crappy weather.

5 Dr Crippen cannot be accused of succinct posts. They cover every current news item, ramification and every twist of every NHS issue. You want NHS? Go to The Crip:

Bloody, whinging, whining junior doctors. It is all your fault. Add you onto the lazy GPs, the fat-cat, swan-eating, port-swilling, golf-playing consultants and those useless nurses, and you can see why the NHS has failed.

It must be true. My Lord Warner says so.

Lord Warner, has launched an extra-ordinary attack on all those who work in the NHS. He cites "productivity" issues and resistance to change within the NHS as the major causes for the failure of Labour's investment programme and programme of reform.

6 Electrolicious is an electrically delicious journo-poet and she's focussed on Gen X and Y just now, the DNA of future society as we know it:

As part of my new job, I've been reading a lot about the work-styles of Gen Y (aka the Millennials). Although my birth-year (1975) technically puts me into Gen X territory, after reading various articles discussing how Gen Y is hyper communicative and assertive but also plagued by narcissism and an obsessive need for connectivity, I would like to proclaim that I identify more with Gen Y. Then I wonder if perhaps this is because I spent so much time at raves in my early 20s — raves where most everyone was 5 years younger than me. Is Gen Y contagious?

7 On the grounds that we should reperesent all point of view in the Blogfocii, may I present the Urban Commando, Will, in all his red star glory. The Young Ones would be proud:

The majority (yes - that's right - you heard me correctly) of the left (or what passes itself off for that distinguished tradition) has thoroughly botched its job on this most crucial of matters. This manifest truth is apparent if one examines the 'anti-war movement' in this country and most others - it is the enemy of the World's working class, the enemy of the Jews, the enemy of the Afghan people, the enemy of Palestinians, the enemy of Iraqis, the enemy of the Kurdish people and the enemy of everything I've ever f---ing well fought for or cared about. Capitalism is truly puking up undigested barbarism these days (truefact).

8 Let's finish up, this evening, with one of our own - Calum Carr - and his take on the Scottish issue:

Nothing new about this. Not even newsworthy. He spoke therefore he lied: that’s the Blair we all know.

In today’s Times (26 April 2007, sorry no link) he accused Alex Salmond, leader of the SNP and likely to lead the largest party after next week’s election, as follows:

When Alex Salmond gets up in the morning what is on his mind is fighting England.”

Fighting: this from Mr Military man. “Who’s up for a fight?” “We are”, says Tony. “Well, not me, of course, but “my” troops are up for it”. He has no shame!

Fighting England”, he says. What absolute rubbish! I have seen or heard nothing to suggest there is any truth in this.

I have seen reports that the SNP will try to manufacture issues on which they can claim that the Westminster government is not acting in the interests of Scotland.

Dem's fighting words and more of these on Tuesday evening, the national day over here. So crank up those old gramophones and dust off your copy of The Internationale. Go out to the garage and find 1] a hammer and 2] a sickle.

Bye for now.

[kryptonite] curse of lex luthor

Love those tights.

You'd expect that with my mindset I'd take the Superman Curse onboard and you'd be right. I do indeed think there is something in it but not as much as Wiki has tried to ascribe to it.

Now a new warning has been backed by science:

Warning to Superman: Stay clear of Ottawa. With the help of our very own National Research Council, scientists have identified a mineral with virtually the same composition as kryptonite, the space rock that makes the Man of Steel more like a man of straw.

It all started in Serbia, where geologists working with mining giant Rio Tinto unearthed a drill core of a rock they couldn't match to any known mineral. So they contacted Chris Stanley, a mineralogist at London's Natural History Museum.

But when Dr. Stanley typed the composition of the new mineral -- sodium lithium boron silicate hydroxide -- into Google, he was astonished to find that it matched up with kryptonite. "He said, 'I nearly fell off my chair,' " says Dr. LePage. "And we had a good laugh."

The rock will be named jadarite, after Jadar, the place in Serbia where it was discovered, Dr. Stanley said.

I think this stinks. It should be called Kryptonite or White Kryptonite and tried on Arnie. If found relatively harmless, it should next be tried on the black-faced Lizard Queen to discover if she bears any resemblance to humankind.

Or not.

[betty boo] you can dance to this music

In the late 80s and early 90s, the rap phenomenon was well under way with such luminaries as MC Hammer et al and the Brits looked likely to be bi-passed in this new era.

The 60s swing which had given place to 70s complex sounds and the alternative punk distortion itself gave way to early 80s ska and a host of British bands - Madness, Bad Manners, the Beat, the Specials, Selecter and the classic Splodginessabounds spring to mind.

Yet the American incursion was strong. Into this came the 1990 album Boomania, generally regarded now as a masterpiece of the genre, by Kensington girl Alison Moira Clarkson.

Those who remember the microphone malfunction in Melbourne which ended her career or the interviewer who came to her house asking her: "So what do you do?" and her classic, shocked reply: "I'm a singer" - all of that aside, not enough people give Boo her rightful place in the history of popular music.

She stood out in a sea of rap as:

1 British;

2 White [sort of - she was a Malaysian Scot];

3 Possessed of a damned good album, musically speaking.

I don't know if it was her or whether it was her writers or producer or whoever - whatever, the thing gelled and I, for one, now miss her rhythm, if not her caustic, egotistical lyrics. She was also easy on the eyes but I wouldn't want you to think that influenced my thinking. Oh no.

You remember her?

[By the way, compare Boo's photo to that of the Minnesota phenomenon Ruthie Z. If her photo is not currently in MyBlogLog, wait some and it will hopefully reappear.]