The Medium is the Message (Marshall McLuhan)

From a macho, West of Scotland, male point of view, I realise what a huge distance I have travelled, as I sign the posties’ electronic gizmo, early in the early morning rain for a delivery of leotards for my next door neighbour.

I have not lost a son, I have gained a wonderful daughter. Sweet.

Surrealism by Text: dazed & confused

Why does my son fail to decipher my text messages?

What to me, is a perfectly acceptable, text message always appears to puzzle him.

Even although I may be reporting current events in my crazy days, they may seem oddly haphazard to him.

Is this communication breakdown? Are my days confused?

Tensing

Left the sherpas at the base camp as they were laughing with the dali lama & headed on up Duncryn Hill in Gartocharn.

All the rain & snow had made the ground almost impassable. I met some South Indians with their local guides, who were given piggybacks, as they were only wearing trainers!

There was a heavy haar, so I was unsure of the view & the day was nearing it’s end, thus I was up against the clock. All these problems & a heavy bog to cross.

The view made the upward climb at pace worthwhile, although I did not have much time to soak & bathe in the view, as I wanted to press on & do the woodland walk down towards the Aber Island view.

Although it was getting darker, the lack of light gave everything that extra dimension & there was a real haunted, spooky, beautiful light surrounding me.

The path down to Loch Lomond was again almost impassable, rain-sodden, bog with the added danger of landing, slipping in/on the many cowpats. I made a mental note to try & get back before total darkness, as I did not rate my chances of getting through these fields in the dark, without having a mishap.

However, as they say the best laid plans……

At the lochside, where it meets the River Endrick, is one of my favourite places on God’s earth. I was totally overcome with the peace, the light & the tranquillity. There was almost no-one else around for miles. The birds were going to roost & a huge heron startled me as I searched in vain for my camera, too late.

From the Sublime to the Slime

As I crash land into my 56^th year & Celtic slip out of Europe, I limit myself to 2 memorable goals in my 5-a-side midweek match, whereas last week I was in doubleplusgood, double hat trick territory.

My listening pleasure drifts from my favourite, Balkan brass band: Besh O Drom ( now spending far too much time next door!) to the new live Gotan Project cd of modern tango.

Both of the above are sure cures for the winter blues. Currently I prefer my blues to be of the mangled, Loren Mazzacane Connors, variety.

Repeating again my love for the superb Jewelled Antler Library releases & thanks to it’s founder, Loren Chasse. It took me a little time to realise the difference betwixt the 2 Lorens, but for this sad, old geezer, there is only 1 Loren & that is the buxom Sophia.

Walking


"The rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and
the passage through a landscape echoes or stimulates the passage
through a series of thoughts. The creates an odd consonance between
internal and external passage, one that suggests that the mind is
also a landscape of sorts and that walking is one way to traverse it.
A new thought often seems like a feature of the landscape that was
there all along, as though thinking were traveling rather than making."

Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking

Tie – Dyed Sounds

I find myself tucked into a little corner, where I am happy to hear unrecorded soundtracks to an unmade film, based on the tales of Carlos Castenada’s dances with the shamen.

Ceremonial/ritual/ethnic/jazzy/freakfolkery on the Sun Ra/Grateful Dead epic scale are what is keeping my little pot boiling over these cold, bitter days.

Luckily, there is so much of it available & I feel as if I am only in the process of scratching the surface of this goldmine.

Take this a.m. for instance, I am listening to a band called ‘Grass Magic’, who appear to have been up all night, lost in the forest until they happened upon Uton’s ragbag of found objects & noisemakers. As they sparked up the drone all crazy freakiness erupts. Splendid.

As my son’s midweek email suggests I might enjoy ‘High Places’, I am assuming he means the band & not an invitation for me to visit the Erskine Bridge.

I do not have the heart to tell him that sound is ‘so last month’ for me.

As I get older, it is interesting, I suppose, that friends & family, will testify, that I still listen to the strangest stuff.

A Day in the Life

Picked up car from menders (the repairs cost the economic output of a small African country & met my activist, cronies from planespeaking & planestupid concerning an upcoming meeting in a local primary school, put up posters on the same & I was interviewed on the subject by another group, who are making a film on the aforementioned issue.

I attended my night class on literacies & I finally scraped through my initial assessment.

I had to watch the edited highlights of the Scotland Vs Argentina friendly managed by the old hand of God man.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Tracking back & thinking how strange it is that all those marginalised albums in the Randy Newman corner of my memory are re-surfacing as real gems among the dust.

Perhaps a lot is due to exciting DJs like Gilles Peterson, who may have shone the spotlight on say: Phil Upchurch (which I am listening to just now!), Harvey Mandell (‘Righteous’, ‘Snake’ Or ‘Baby Batter’), Link Wray (R.I.P.) or Shuggie Otis.

Others have pinpointed Jan Dukes De Grey or Comus as worth seeking out.

This listener would certainly agree with all of the above.

Psychogeography Without the Aid of a Safety Net

It was an usually sunny day & mild for the time of year, my car was still at the menders, but hey, I am a young boy, I can cycle.

I had been wishing to cycle around the area I can see from my place of work: the cycleway around the Renfrew golf course.

I cycled up to the Yoker- Renfrew ferry & hopped across the river & got dodgy directions from the ferrymaster that led to a slight diversion.

I eventually found the Normandy Hotel (which is now past it’s sell by date) & the start of my route.

I also came across a strange sight of, what looked to be graves, surrounded by a Victorian fence.

I ‘googled’ this without a result until I re-discovered : www.devilsplantation.co.uk & there I found the info listed.

This was in fact 2 bits of either 1) Argyll Stone or 2) St Conval’s Chariot.

Legend has it that St Conval crossed the sea from Ireland on this stone & that in 1685, the 9^th Earl of Argyll was captured on it after an unsuccessful invasion against James VII (& II).

See also Harry Bell’s ‘Glasgow’s Secret Geometry’ & ‘Fifty Facts About Renfrewshire’.

Catchy Album Titles Vol 3, Pt 7

Just in case there is someone out there who doubts my integrity & thinks I have made these album titles up, I have included the cover pic of ‘I Wish that Mountain Could have an Eye’.

It is a beautiful ambient cd.

A Surrealist Looks at Food

As I listen to other beautiful, but unknown, albums by Hypersonia (‘Entertainment for Braindead’) or Painting Petal on Planet Ghost (‘Fallen Camellias’ or ‘Harm’), I ponder the possibilities of sticking a broken egg back together or placing the fallen apple back onto the tree.

It Will End in Tears

You know when it is a dull grey wintry Sunday morning & there is no prospect of football on tv & it is too wet to go outside. You are pining for a gourd of mate & the nearest tea-house is too distant & you had listened to a decent country album by Jonathan Byrd called the ‘Law & the Lonesome’ but you know it is only a Morita Doji album that will sort you out, but if you listen to it you will be driven to tears, well I am now in that place, but the album is playing.

R.I.P. Jimmy Carl Black



Ex Mothers drummer passed on to the Great Mother of Invention Convention in the sky to be with Frank.

What We Did On Our Holidays Fairport

Car goosed, could be cylinder head, sounds expensive & time consuming, deep interior engine stuff.

Forces me to take more exercise, not a bad thing. What is a sad thing, is that out of 5 days hols, 4 of them are spent at my place of work!

Mind you 2 of these days are spent on the exercise agenda playing, sorry strike that, participating in 5 - a -sides.

2 days are spent at the opposite end of this spectrum feeding my fat face.

However, I did get out on the bike once for a short run & I did walk more. Note to self: must do more of this & stop listening to Billy Cobham & Asere however much I am enjoying it.