IX
My dream was past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should thus be this traced out
Almost like a reality - the one
To end in madness - both in misery.
The Dream
Byron
6.5.12
29.4.12
Shrink to fit
The Rag and Bone man's talents are considerable I know. However the photograph holds a clue to his ability to make sartorial alterations. A 1960's flying jacket which, in its original condition, would have easily accommodated Bernard Bresslaw, was dyed, in the washing machine, using a boil wash. Now he's going to have a hard time finding a monkey small enough to wear that jacket well. The beauty is that it held it's proportion perfectly through its shrinkage. Excellent colour as well. Funniest thing I've seen this year, so far.
24.4.12
Totally Automatic
Have you ever wondered how an automatic transmission works? Probably not. But I came across this wonderful Meccano model explaining how a car can magically change gear for you. It appeals to the geek in me. (Of which there is a considerable amount). A note to myself to get out more.
22.4.12
More congratulations!
Big congratulations to Alicia. She has had some of her photographs published. One mag I cant remember (sorry!), Black and White magazine and fLIP magazine in the Incognito Extra. Also Alicia's new website is up and running. Expecting great things in the future.
14.4.12
First thing you learn is that you always got to wait
I'm waiting for my man
Twenty-six dollars in my hand
Up to Lexington, 125
Feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive
I'm waiting for my man
A cold, cold, Wednesday night, too many beers and a total disregard for the delicate matter in hand had me on that train a'going round the bend. A twist too many and the 36 year old fuel tap was defunct. Boy, was I mad at myself! A black cloud gathered and swirled above me for the rest of the long week.
The first parts supplier I visited at the weekend laughed in my face. OK I deserved that. Then I remembered my man. Yes, it would be a 58 mile round trip, if he was open. He never answers is phone. But he supplies without fail.
Despair turned to elation as I swung the car into the parking bay of the workshop. He's there. No other hopeful is loitering, trying to attract his attention with ambitious projects. I waited patiently for the 10 minutes he used to open up a gearbox. Clean and precise like a surgeon on amphetamines.
Looking up at me and then to the petcock I held towards him I knew I had his interest. He stepped over a plank of wood bedecked with signs and symbols warding off mortals from entering the vast cavern of treasures and returned with two crates full to the brim with petcocks. Tipping them onto the floor in front of my feet as pearls before swine he directed me to pan for gold. Each possibility was accompanied by his encyclopedic knowledge of the bike to which it belonged, along with the year of manufacture and its likelihood of satisfying my goal. Then the force kicked in. My hand plunged into the hill of cast metal and retrieved a gem that shone like the morning star. The mans congratulations and incredulity were a bonus.
I now have a working fuel tap and a one legged mutant frog-amphibian thing as a potential figurehead.
Twenty-six dollars in my hand
Up to Lexington, 125
Feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive
I'm waiting for my man
A cold, cold, Wednesday night, too many beers and a total disregard for the delicate matter in hand had me on that train a'going round the bend. A twist too many and the 36 year old fuel tap was defunct. Boy, was I mad at myself! A black cloud gathered and swirled above me for the rest of the long week.
The first parts supplier I visited at the weekend laughed in my face. OK I deserved that. Then I remembered my man. Yes, it would be a 58 mile round trip, if he was open. He never answers is phone. But he supplies without fail.
Despair turned to elation as I swung the car into the parking bay of the workshop. He's there. No other hopeful is loitering, trying to attract his attention with ambitious projects. I waited patiently for the 10 minutes he used to open up a gearbox. Clean and precise like a surgeon on amphetamines.
Looking up at me and then to the petcock I held towards him I knew I had his interest. He stepped over a plank of wood bedecked with signs and symbols warding off mortals from entering the vast cavern of treasures and returned with two crates full to the brim with petcocks. Tipping them onto the floor in front of my feet as pearls before swine he directed me to pan for gold. Each possibility was accompanied by his encyclopedic knowledge of the bike to which it belonged, along with the year of manufacture and its likelihood of satisfying my goal. Then the force kicked in. My hand plunged into the hill of cast metal and retrieved a gem that shone like the morning star. The mans congratulations and incredulity were a bonus.
I now have a working fuel tap and a one legged mutant frog-amphibian thing as a potential figurehead.
Two - Lane Blacktop
James Taylor as "The Driver", Dennis Wilson from the Beach Boys plays "The Mechanic" and Warren Oats is GTO.
A slow, lonely, desolate odyssey through the empty heart of early 70's America.
An intriguing, glorious and flawed movie.
A film too dark for success.
A slow, lonely, desolate odyssey through the empty heart of early 70's America.
An intriguing, glorious and flawed movie.
A film too dark for success.
10.4.12
9.4.12
Star Star
Saturday night. Cold night. I don't often utter expletives when alone, unless I've hit my thumb with a hammer. "Fucking Hell!" was all I could contribute to the annals of astronomy when I saw Saturn and it's rings for the first time. I had one minute of silence and wonder before cloud cover brought me back to Earth.
A photograph is no substitute for the experience of photons bouncing around outer space and hitting the back of your eyeball but this is the closest to my view of the planet.
I'm not a believer in coincidence, recently, several unrelated events have led me to W. G. Sebald. I shall begin reading as soon as possible.
A photograph is no substitute for the experience of photons bouncing around outer space and hitting the back of your eyeball but this is the closest to my view of the planet.
I'm not a believer in coincidence, recently, several unrelated events have led me to W. G. Sebald. I shall begin reading as soon as possible.
2.4.12
Françoise Hardy
Heard "Just Friends" on the radio yesterday. Triggered a memory of this image. (I can't understand why it stuck with me!). I didn't remember the bike as a Honda CB.
French girl on a motorcycle, Spring is here. I'll cut this post short, for fear of reproach....
French girl on a motorcycle, Spring is here. I'll cut this post short, for fear of reproach....
1.4.12
Just a second
Spent a pleasant Saturday afternoon adjusting the timing, taking instruction from the Haynes manual.
Untested as yet.
Beginning to see organic properties in the bikes construction.
Certainly a direct influence of The Rag and Bone Man
Untested as yet.
Beginning to see organic properties in the bikes construction.
Certainly a direct influence of The Rag and Bone Man
Sky blue
Pestered to lift the canvas for this photograph.
Sophie's magic chariot.
A beautiful Piaggio nearly ready for the highways of London
End of the weak
This is a sad appendix to the previous post.
I went to view Brigitte's wonderful egg in situ on Friday, only to discover that it has been vandalised. The sheer ignorance and wantonness of the act left my belief in the social contract considerably strained.
However, Omnicolour, (the printers who originally produced the lettering) have stepped up to the mark and are in the process of making a brand new version for the future owner.
I seem to be re-reading The Meditations at random now. Not such a bad way to defeat cynicism.
Another useful thought of direct application is the particular virtue nature has given us to counter a particular wrong. Gentleness is given as the antidote to cruelty, and other qualities to meet other offences. In general, you can always re-educate one who has lost his way: and anyone who does wrong has missed his proper aim and gone astray.
And what harm have you suffered? You will find that none of these who excite your anger has done anything capable of affecting your mind for the worse: and it is only in your mind that damage or harm can be done to you - they have no other existence.
Marcus Aurelius
The Meditations Book 9 42.2
26.3.12
Phi and the Golden Section
From a different perspective.The more I looked, the more I saw, the more I discovered.
The Third Eye - a new photograph of Brigitte's egg. Click here for the link
The Third Eye - a new photograph of Brigitte's egg. Click here for the link
I see Phi!
 | |
|
 |
| M10 ThetaPhi |
 |
| The ratio of Phi |
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| The Golden Section |
25.3.12
Universe, your harmony is my harmony: nothing in your good time is too early or too late for me... Marcus Aurelius - Meditations - Book 4.23
Life in the hive puckered up my night,
the kiss of death, the embrace of life.
There I stand neath the Marquee Moon
Just waiting,
Hesitating...
I ain't waiting
I spoke to a man down at the tracks.
I asked him how he don't go mad.
He said "Look here junior, don't you be so happy.
And for Heaven's sake, don't you be so sad."
the kiss of death, the embrace of life.
There I stand neath the Marquee Moon
Just waiting,
Hesitating...
I ain't waiting
I spoke to a man down at the tracks.
I asked him how he don't go mad.
He said "Look here junior, don't you be so happy.
And for Heaven's sake, don't you be so sad."
Marquee Moon
Tom Verlaine
Television
Bom-ma-bom, a-bom-bom-a-bom, ba-ba-bom-bom-a-bomp,
b-dang-a-dang-dang, b-ding-a-dong-ding.
Blue moon, blue moon, blue moon,
Dip-de-dip-de-dip.
Blue moon, blue moon, blue moon,
Dip-de-dip-de-dip.Blue moon, blue moon,
blue moon,Dip-de-dip-de-dip.Bom-ma-bom, a-bom-bom-a-bom, ba-ba-bom
bom-a-bomp,b-dang-a-dang-dang, b-ding-a-dong-ding.
b-dang-a-dang-dang, b-ding-a-dong-ding.
Blue moon, blue moon, blue moon,
Dip-de-dip-de-dip.
Blue moon, blue moon, blue moon,
Dip-de-dip-de-dip.Blue moon, blue moon,
blue moon,Dip-de-dip-de-dip.Bom-ma-bom, a-bom-bom-a-bom, ba-ba-bom
bom-a-bomp,b-dang-a-dang-dang, b-ding-a-dong-ding.
Blue Moon
The Marcels
Fortuitous phantoms in the sky
18.3.12
A return to the cooler
A chill at the weekend had me staring into our wood burner that had ambitions of becoming a steel furnace.
Suddenly, a cataclysmic vision appeared behind the glass in the style of John Martin.
Suddenly, a cataclysmic vision appeared behind the glass in the style of John Martin.
"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." attributed to Da Vinci
I spent a glorious spring like afternoon looking at the London skyline, watching aeroplanes crossing the sky and walking around galleries in a rhapsodic state. Partly due to some of the artwork but mostly because of the company.
Tongue tied as usual.
Thank you.
230
Art is a substitute for acting and living. If life is the willful expression of emotion, art is the intellectual expression of that same emotion. Whatever we don't have, don't attempt or don't achieve can be possessed through dreams, and these are what we use to make art. At other times our emotion is so strong that, although reduced to action, this action doesn't completely satisfy it; the leftover emotion, unexpressed in life, is used to produce the work of art. There are thus two types of artists: the one who expresses what he doesn't have, and the one who expresses the surplus of what he did have.
Tongue tied as usual.
Thank you.
230
Art is a substitute for acting and living. If life is the willful expression of emotion, art is the intellectual expression of that same emotion. Whatever we don't have, don't attempt or don't achieve can be possessed through dreams, and these are what we use to make art. At other times our emotion is so strong that, although reduced to action, this action doesn't completely satisfy it; the leftover emotion, unexpressed in life, is used to produce the work of art. There are thus two types of artists: the one who expresses what he doesn't have, and the one who expresses the surplus of what he did have.
Fernando Pessoa
The Book of Disquiet
"Society based on production is only productive, not creative." Albert Camus
There is no argument here. When our society is governed by nudniks, when burecratic suits hide in their offices and dictate their concept of freedom, how can the colour in this world be prevented from fading to grey?
I don't think any more needs to be said by me.
Read on and please sign the petition.
I don't think any more needs to be said by me.
Read on and please sign the petition.
Reject EU (Motorcycle) 'Anti-tampering' legislation, this included Art 18 & 52, that will prevent owners customising their bikes and/or using after market parts.
Responsible department: Department for Transport
This will automatically become UK law soon and it means that bikers will not be able to customise their bikes in anyway or use cheaper (still safe & approved) 'after market' parts making it too expensive for the average rider – None of these directions make any sense at all and will not improve safety in anyway; just line the pockets of the large foreign bike manufactures.
Bikers wil be singled out by the police and stopped and emissions checked; this is discriminatory.
They also propose to ban filtering through traffic, which would be dangerous for air-cooled machines that could blow up in traffic and is the extreme of nanny state interference.
Banning of motorcycles over 7yrs old in Urban areas.
Clearly the EU intent to eradicate ALL motorcycles in the future and this is the thin end of the wedge...nanny state at its worst and it must be stopped right now!
This EU legislation must be rejected by the UK government ."
(You must be a British citizen or normally live in the UK to create or sign this e-petition)
11.3.12
"THE STUPIDER IT LOOKS, THE MORE IMPORTANT IT PROBABLY IS." J.R. "Bob" Dobbs
It happened as I was searching for essays on Le Jetee.
Meandering around the web I glimpsed a large fraction of my memory that had all but evaporated.
Suddenly a belief system that defies the ordinary, celebrates abstinence from abstinence and teaches that Slack is all, flooded back into my world view.
First lesson. If you can learn how to pull the wool over your own eyes far enough to believe in your own abnormality, then the world will not even question your sincerity. The CHURCH OF THE SUBGENIUS relieves you of all doubts about your own sanity. For a small donation, the Church will give you absolutley nothing.
With its motto of "Fuck Them If They Can't Take A Joke" your mental freedom is just around the corner should you choose to follow this "inherently contradictory religion".
I was first introduced to the mind altering cult by the first truly creative artist I ever encountered. Around 1989 David Fryer was the Slackest of all. I haven't spoken to him for some years now and I doubt he will have time for me. By now he'll be a SubGenius Elder of Slack, or would have renounced the faith altogether. I am, however, going to search him out and thank him for my indoctrination.
It's not hard to comprehend just how deep the Church penetrated into my psyche. My pathetic attempts at financial gain, my distrust of authority figures, authority figure-heads, authority figurines, my distaste at corporate directors and making every level of banker my sworn enemy is a direct influence of the SubGenuis.
Strange how I could just forget my doctrinal cult influence. I'm starting to smell global conspiratorial deprogrammers at work!
Long live J.R. "Bob" Dobbs if he ever did.
Should you require more gentle persuasion this is probably your starting point.
Meandering around the web I glimpsed a large fraction of my memory that had all but evaporated.
Suddenly a belief system that defies the ordinary, celebrates abstinence from abstinence and teaches that Slack is all, flooded back into my world view.
First lesson. If you can learn how to pull the wool over your own eyes far enough to believe in your own abnormality, then the world will not even question your sincerity. The CHURCH OF THE SUBGENIUS relieves you of all doubts about your own sanity. For a small donation, the Church will give you absolutley nothing.
With its motto of "Fuck Them If They Can't Take A Joke" your mental freedom is just around the corner should you choose to follow this "inherently contradictory religion".
I was first introduced to the mind altering cult by the first truly creative artist I ever encountered. Around 1989 David Fryer was the Slackest of all. I haven't spoken to him for some years now and I doubt he will have time for me. By now he'll be a SubGenius Elder of Slack, or would have renounced the faith altogether. I am, however, going to search him out and thank him for my indoctrination.
It's not hard to comprehend just how deep the Church penetrated into my psyche. My pathetic attempts at financial gain, my distrust of authority figures, authority figure-heads, authority figurines, my distaste at corporate directors and making every level of banker my sworn enemy is a direct influence of the SubGenuis.
Strange how I could just forget my doctrinal cult influence. I'm starting to smell global conspiratorial deprogrammers at work!
Long live J.R. "Bob" Dobbs if he ever did.
Should you require more gentle persuasion this is probably your starting point.
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