In My Dreams You Will Change

It’s almost eleven and I am starving for Chinese food but the coffers cannot afford it so I will eat Melba Toast instead even though it’s vile for more than P Or flavour. Get colours back again Green, Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, smellow all over polka-dots. It’s a labour of love for me. I used to write green. Now I write all colours of the rainbow under duress. Why? I let myself believe I am an artist, writer etc and then someone reminds me of something I have done and that thought about being an artist becomes old but nothing contradicts it. So the next time someone talks about artists doing something in short, I think Oh they could be referring to me. Now this is not to say I have not ever thought that I’d fit the job description, should ‘they’ write one. AND IN PART THAT’S WHAT BROUGHT ME HERE TODAY. An advert that I thought fit me.

As for the BBC well that’s cooler than can be. Morecombe and Wise I grew up wanting to produce. I used to imagine what went on backstage between scenes but I never got asked is that something you would like to do and I did WANT to be a fireman or to have a pension which sounded sensible so I never got around to it until … the awakening.

The awakening happened gradually then suddenly like, well, something sudden that slapped me around the face and said ’You are only alive this once what would you like to do? Amongst artists as I was I still felt uncomfortable saying it. Producer. Easy to say I  thought but I’m too old to get the chance unless I really go underground and start making porno. But No. Other avenues beckoned like theatre groups, Edinburgh Fringe Festival and local arts centres then drawing digitally and with pencil, books and more books and enough self-doubt to sink the Queen Mary II or those two new Aircraft Carriers currently being commissioned near Glasgow. Well that was back in 2008/9 and since then I have harboured this fledgling dream which I have nurtured like  a baby bird until it is well, what it is today looking for a chance to fly away.

Caught  between reflections of fire and chance and superstitious glances I have no time for a master plan . Usually I take it week by week and see what comes.

And those close to me would say ‘you can always leave it for another day’ And I thought I knew what they were talking about until I decided that day.

The mind works in mysterious ways and I have half consciously made an effort half guided by my subconscious desires made a play for what is happening today.

TV is my world made big on the small screen. There is usually something on that gets my bone.

 

The Past

Haunting is spooky. No other word for it.

Bear with me. I that is I when I say I

is referring to me. But which bit of me?

If I means who I am then it also includes

old hopes and dreams doesn’t it? Back

to haunting. If I achieve a dream that I had forgotten about

or even thought I had abandoned that dream a long time ago.

How can I say I achieved this dream honestly when I had forgottten all about it?

Why does thinking about this dream make all the details zoom out like city map which then reveals the globe. It make me feel like a lazy gyet for achieving it now years later whatever it was.  I am so confused AND spooked!

Is it because I was so much more of a go-getter back then or more of a dreamer back then?

Should I be grateful that I am still working at fulfilling old dreams even though I can’t remember the last time I thought of it. Is this just de ja vu on wheels? Or did i deceive myself into looking the other way till I fulfilled my dream?

Or am I right to feel SPOOKED for reaching the summit I once saw and thought – I can do that but first I need to fulfil these requirements which presumably I sensed was done hence ‘I did it!’ And if I lied, killed, burned, raped and pillaged along the way therefore reaching my ends through deception and foul means even though it was a forgotten dream like Mercedes Benz would I get into heaven?

Fifteen to twenty years later I go ‘Oh that’s done’ and wonder ‘what?’

What!?

I sense that this could be a book idea. Any thoughts?

The man who…

Little Clicks

Hi. Good afternoon. All is fine here at Watkins Towers. I enjoyed  a lamb chop mashed potato and peas with gravy dinner feast and am now sitting down listening to the one and only Jimmy Page strumming his strings and singing in Led Zeppelin. I have set the playlist to shuffle through the entire back catalogue available on my player including some ‘what I call’ amaZING live sets. I have imagined things I have never thought about before while listening to his music and have experienced the closest approximation to feeling alive and in love through his renditions. Even I have muttered to myself ‘Like Radiohead…But BETTER!’

Rock. Psychedelic Rock. Heavy Metal. Art Rock. Guitar Rock. Seventies Rock. Blues. Rockabilly. Most time I hear him (Page) play I see black jeans and the aroma of sweaty roadies and think heavy metal. Why? I think it was my upbringing in one pub in particular that contained  a heavy metal biker contingent where ‘Nights in White Satin’ NOT by Led Zep, Motorhead and ‘Stairway to Heaven’ would intermingle seamlessly. I have no problem assigning the others to the Heavy Metal genre but when it comes to Led Zepplin I hear more than your standard thrash metal. On Carouselambra, I hear the familiar reedy vocals of Plant or Page but something like organ or synth that would be out of place on Heavy Metal. It works and its great. The live version of Dazed and Confused contained a guitar and drums duet that lasted for the best part of the 25-minute length of the song and in it, I heard the sort of melodies that I have only seen others ape. Now I know what they are aping. It works and its great. Other classics from the Led Zeppelin Album like Communication Breakdown for me gave voice to many thoughts floating around in my consciousness that were waiting on various platforms for musical trains to arrive. Little did I expect them all to be picked up and dropped off at the doors of acceptance and understanding while in the custody of Messrs Page, Plant, Jones and Bonham. It’s like I am listening to them for the first time ever, not just the first time in years.

Now I am in the East and hearing traditional Indian Music. No! It’s Led Zeppelin again. Next I don’t know. Now I am hearing another live set and this time, I am reminded of Hendrix and Robert Plant solo works, and various generic seventies heavy rockers. Not that I’m showing off but I swear I know where Noddy Holder got his trademark scream from now. He ripped it of Jimmy Page!

If you’re left wondering anything I can tell you where the title of this article comes from.You know those little clicks you get in your neck…just extend your head forwards until…click…click…click. gone. Ahh! That’s better!

Holy Duck!

It’s time for me to do some writing. I don’t know what will come out of this but I intend to give it a go. My recent attempts at varying my output all seem to have fallen on deaf or dumbfounded ears while the standard of blogs I have been coming across has been very high. This is good for blogging as more people will be attracted to it.

Two worth checking out are IceCream Magazine and Tea and That.

So here I am sitting in my tin can, far away from trees. If I were in a forest I would take the opportunity to go hug a tree. There is nothing like the smell of the bark in your nostrils and the aroma of rotting vegetation at your feet to bring out the Ray Mears in me. Immediately I begin wondering where it is best to trap rabbits, where the stream is for a supply of cool fresh drinking water, where is the high ground good for a bivi site, where are landmarks for trekking onto. It’s all coming flooding back. I swear if I could do it all again I would do it wearing Gore-Tex.

Holy Duck! I am at 1647 of my 1800 calorie a day allowance and it’s only just past dinner time! There is nothing worse than trying to diet and learning along the way. Now I think about it NOT learning would be worse yet, but only just. Did you know that eating two Weetabix with skimmed milk at breakfast counts for 200 calories? That a single Rich Tea biscuit is alone 40 calories? And deserts? Don’t get me started on desserts. Except that I love them! One proper desert a week is what I am allowing myself. And I am adjusting the rest of my diet accordingly.

Chelsea hammered Man City in the FA Cup Sixth Round this afternoon. This was in part due to the fact that the match was unfair in that it was men against boys. The boys of Manuel Pelligrini’s Man City may be talented but they were no match for the depth and experience a Chelsea side even without the injured John Terry. That said the game was entertaining football and the majority of the goals were of a high quality. Man City certainly have some good youngsters coming through but it will be some time before they are ready to start games in the Premiership or in Europe where much of City’s ambitions lie this season.

Computer Gaming is not for nerds! Computer gaming is cool, relevant, entertaining, engrossing, demanding*…Today I purchased four computer games for the PC in the Assassin’s Creed series for ten pounds. This makes me quadruple happy! Now I have a half-decent monitor, keyboard, desk, and speakers but no computer. No computer? I hear you say? Well, I do have one suitable for browsing the internet in my study. I do have my laptop I am typing at now for general use but I do not have one for gaming on. There is a good reason for this. For one, I do not want to put all my eggs in one basket and buy a computer that is all singing all dancing. This is extremely expensive and doesn’t make good sense. Rather have a reasonable machine for everyday use, a cheap machine for the study and a basic one for gaming on. This does make sense both financially and practically. I have found an excellent supplier of second-hand computers HandyGeek where I got my browsing machine from and where I intend to purchase my gaming machine. Hopefully, gaming will be fun and if one machine breaks down, well, at least I’ll be able to make a quick swap-over so it won’t stop me doing everything else I do on computers or worst bored!

*from testimonials of friends and personal experience.

Other bloggers on WordPress continue to impress in poetry, song, photography, you-name-it there is probably a blog I follow containing it! See the community menu for other blogs I interact with – you won’t be disappointed.

I am currently watching TV on my laptop as I save for a new television. I think that I am going to have to go with an indoor ariel once I find out if it’s that that was causing the problem with my picture, or my TV set itself which was a ‘tube’ model and probably on the blink. I am looking for a model at least 24 inch, preferably 32 inch with a built in DVD. I even have space for it which in my flat is at something once found soon taken.

Well with so many things half finished (read my last few blogs also) I should take a pause and breathe once in a while. Before I go on again. Breathe.

Happy blogging! See you soon!

 

Somewhere…

I am here but music takes me somewhere…I am here and music does nothing. This is just a short passage or two on music.

I am here writing this and realising that both statements are wrong. I can’t speak for you but when I put on a tune I stay exactly where I am…physically in atoms…anyway. The rest I can’t explain. How can a room be a room and then a different room with different people in it or with music playing? What is this phenomena called? Music? Attraction? Sympathy?

There are books on musicology but I haven’t the patience to read a whole 3 hundred pages when I could be listening to music from 300 different artists in the same time it takes…Think about it…What is your head for? It’s a microphone and speaker. And your ears are the most wondrous pieces of equipment. Imagine you were building a human from a kit on some human parts website. You have already given your human a digestive and reproductive system, a sympathetic nervous system with four senses sight, touch, taste, smell. Then you see on a page ‘Sound System’ You read the description.

Give your human the gift of sound. Ears with built in drum enable the detection of soundwaves from 20 Hz to 20,000 Hz. A Four stage system comprising Outer Ear, Middle ear, Inner Ear and Neuronal filters and direct sounds directly into the CNS of your human allowing it to experience the wonderful tapestry of sound perception i.e. pitch, duration, loudness, timbre, sonic texture and spatial location useful for a range of humans from leisure to military construction. Vocal folds in the larynx, lungs and articulators enable sounds to be synthesised by your human with a possible range of E2 to F6 in male models and F3 to C6 in females. Actual ranges will differ per individual human. Factory Fitted.£136.00. Add to cart.

You think this is OK and with a price tag to match you go for it. What a gift you have given your human!

But this gets away from the elements. Fire, Earth, Air, Water. Bear with me… Why does it seem easier to comprehend the power of music in elemental terms? Because like in the description of the build your human website shopping cart in the sound system feeds directly into the very heart of you – the immediate part. This is insufficient to explain the difference between opera and rock but imagine that you are a piece of earth, a pillar of fire, a wave, or the wind and then give each element qualities.Use them in your talk and you have a wonderfully rich mix of tonality. By mixing your four voices and experimenting with them, you will achieve different results. By exposing yourself to experimentation techniques, you will stimulate the brain into learning via observation, interview and analysis.

Really?

I don’t know I’m afraid. I’m only a writer with limited time on the  planet. I can’t know everything. But I do love music like its a part of me – a third leg to stand on if you like that sort of thing.

Just in case, I got you interested, here are some links on sound and music.

Wikipedia

Sound

Music

Here is some music I like


 

 

Liar

The voice from behind the wall has spoken and today it said ‘Liar’ This was after a long conversation during which I poured out some pretty ridiculous but meaningful reasons for me studying Latin Or latin without the capital L. Which does it deserve? I suppose it is a proper noun the name of a language so, in that case, it would be proper (get me) for its first letter to be capitalised. What does the accusation deserve (for those of you waiting) A rant with me throwing pint glasses full of Doom Beer at the wall then me falling to my knees all ‘a sob’ wailing ‘Wall forgive me for I have sinned! It’s been Toooooo loonng since my last confession?’ I blame misogyny in the courts, the COURRRRTS!

In other knews, I told my Dad today of my plans to study latin and to take the classical, philosophical, medical, mathematical, bones of the human body, Map A Mundi people by storm. his reaction? The clock is ticking son. Thanks Dad for that piece of crap wisdom. Next time I will just pull a cracker or open a fortune cookie. Free calls what can you do eh?

In the world of Latin, I learnt today. Veni Vidi Vici. which means I came I saw I conquered and was uttered by some Roman Emperor I recall after some victory. Which is fitting after all. isn’t one more day lived a victory in itself? Or is that too much wartime angst for you. I hesitate to say we are at war. It’s not like every time you go to London you have to dodge the suicide bombers and that sort of humour just plays into the hands of the bombers. Well, it is a sobering thought. I mean I wanted to go to London to the Hellenic Bookstore to have a browse and spend some of the governments money. Only joking. I have little interest in a bookshop! Only the books therein. Which is why I use amazon so I can get the books I need to be posted through my front door. Which is shared incidentally. I live in Ivory Tower Number 4(flat 4)

Declensions, Declensions, are no more apparently. Today we learn in an enlightened atmosphere of fun teaching and learning. I don’t know what I prefer. I have the most fun doing serious jokes but learn the most while being funny strange or just plain different. Which one rocks the most?

See I am perfectly fit for learning a difficult language like Latin. I can approach it strategically lest I ever am disappointed in my performance or even surprised at how well or badly I manage. All will be revealed.

In other knews, I renamed my savings account ‘Latin lessons’ early this morning. I am now ready to begin the transfer of funds whenever I have a spare fifty quid (or less). My desk is ready. I just need an extension cable for the compvter. Isn’t that like latin? I will add to the technology with time, for now, i have one monitor, one computer. In my head, i see three monitors two computers. The Matrix style.

A surge of melancholy. Ahhhh! That’s Radiohead playing in the background. Don’t leave me high. Its the best thing that you ever had…

 

 

The Toaster Handle Depressed

The handle of the toaster blue, not depressed with a satisfying click, rick, I swivelled around on my bare foot but in my doing so forgot totally red what I was doing next. I gazed around my multicoloured kitchen with eyes blue ready for whatever truth should befall me white. I was accused by violent looking yellows, given the cold shoulder by incandescent blues stared at by vermillion greens, looked at sheepishly by scarlet reds and my light scattered by silver and blue. heres looking at you.

And I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet, yellow and red, blood, of course, would be spat and the moment that contained not a bit of grit as my unkempt hair grey and brown stared back at me accusing the use of a brush-like a murder weapon throbbing black and deadly, or was that the vein in my forehead red.

Meanwhile, the windows in my kitchenette were staring at me brown bread between my eyes in some sort of Wild West face off in a saloon of the slim chance. The condensation soiled white plastic covered in a mixture of dust and grime stared at me sideways while the faded wooden blinds looked implacably at me like policeman annoyed and calling for backup to have a good laugh at the sorry figure before him. It was all I could do not to blood wilt before this visage of brown wood and plastic white. What was gone from me was all mention of the fight. In my eyes was yellow of cowardice striped over me in thick Pebeo paint. The mark of the blind upon me, I shuffled into the living room cum bedroom with the cup of coffee in hand. I chose where to put it down brown. onto a stained wooden squarish coaster red. I am dead. I am rotting at the bottom of a cheap wooden cask on a boat which will dump me at sea which is cheaper than crematoria blue. How can this be cheaper than gas? I don’t know but polka dot blue walls golf ball sized reminds me that change happens. just like in the Allianz advert green. Change happens.

A door sparkly green opens up before me in the time it takes for the toaster to make the sound of ejecting a finished matt piece or two of toast and then slams shut as I reach for the butter brown. Wearing a frown, I am dammed to pick up a clean knife from the pile in cupboard issue number one. Navy Blue. The toast is now neon pink and hot and dusty as I take it from the toast yellow with a sugar coating.

I load butter onto the knife umber burned and place it on the toast black and white and patterned in pentangle blue. The butter melts red and soon my toast looks like a slab of flesh fresh from a bomb blast. It’s impossible to pick it up without shivering at some level deep inside wide.

It tastes good as sausages and I remember that in time soon I will need to clean my teeth. Washing up now building up. Butter put away in a stripey red cupboard. Flashing blue hue as I clang the plate beside the brush beside the sink. I blink and see that it is dirty. I care. I am aware of the things that bring me down, that make me frown. But if I were to be happy I would need to clean fro two or more hours a day and to spend all my moola green on cleaning and polishing products blue with fragrances yellow like a meadow next to an industrial tyre dump fire. I say that now blue cow. Really I seem brown again like soft tree bark again I get it wrong. I meant soil brown. it wears a brown for brown soil you know. a crown for brown you see. It makes me jolly.

I shuffle back into the Bedroom and then remember my tablets blue. I go into my room bath and spy the tabs upon the loo. I take two into the kitchen and water clear pour, not onto the floor but into a tumbler that I use to wash down the chemical splat that I fire myself like an archer twice a day in the hope that they will hit the target Bright cerulean blue.

Now tectonic shifts are taking place in the muscles of my back and they suddenly pull me erect in the direction of the ceiling green as I spy the toothpaste kit upon the sink.

Squeeze out a pea-sized amount is what I hear but I squeeze out double clean onto the bristles green of my toothbrush blue. Do I put the lid closed now green yellow blue red, or do I bang it on my head. Do I play the game red-brown? or do I leave the bathroom wearing a frown? I decide its better red so I bang it on my head closing the cap foolscap. I put the brush red plastic into my mouth and place the pea sized amount against the edges of my gums and begin to brush. Back and forth and above me rains grey slush cold and wet down my back and into the but wellingtons I wear where they will fill until I freeze to death. I brush and soon I am on my front teeth where I change brushing direction to an up and down motion. I could operate farm machinery I thought orange. The pain goblins at work behind my eyes shoot arrows at my mouth which mostly blue miss but sometimes brown connect. I carry on brushing like the wind up father Christmas red. I feel like going back to bed. Thirty seconds have passed says I time to spit and to the toothpaste kit say goodbye. I spit aiming into the centre of the bowl but letting it spray everywhere. I put on the cold tap and rinse it thoroughly before taking a mouthful of water and spitting again. this time more accurately into the centre of the sink black and silver shiny and clean and decaying chrome. I reach fro the towel brown and wipe my mouth dry. I replace it on the rail and turn around ready to  leave that room of pain.

I leave and venture back into my living room cum bedroom green. One day I would like to meet the queen.

To be continued…