Sunday, April 30, 2006

pre-May Day

Just got up (yawn) and am on my way to work at the Turf for May Day morning, normally one of our busiest shifts of the year. But it's raining, so it might be a little bit quieter than normal, we shall see. I've never known it to rain on May Day. Grrrr.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Poof Woof

Went to a party tonight. I haven't been to a party for ages, and it was most fun. tervs and I provided the soundtrack - the Family Ness went down well, but Rape didn't really. The party was called Poof Woof (Perry Fromage and Wine Festival). Talked to interesting people; fun was had.

I have a new idea for a new blog. But I shan't reveal it just now. I need another idea first. Whetting and appetites are my schtick just now.

Wish You Were Here is the bestest song ever.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Television Trivia

It's been a night of random memories brought about by making a CD compilation of odds and ends with Mr Tervs: The Family Ness, Penelope Pitstop, Scooby Doo, and Wacky Races all put in an appearance, but these are the obvious ones that come up in every Freshers' week retro-conversation of utter boredom. As I was walking back over Magdalen Bridge I walked under some trees with blossom - all very summery I thought, and continued to sing along to Nimoy's re-telling of the Lord of The Rings. My mind was still wandering through Childhood tv memories when I remembered Blossom the show from the early nineties, but for the life of me I couldn't remember Blossom's surname. At that very moment two guys walked past talking about Curb Your Enthusiasm. Once home, my curiosity could hold out now longer and I was forced to look it up on imdb; lo - I discover that Mayim Bialik, who played Blossom, also appeared in an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm last year. Morse was right - coincidences happen more often than you might think...

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Classical Music - a summary

I like music, lots. I like listening to it, lots. I have extremely varied musical tastes, from metal to folk, from electronica to jazz, from spazz-riot and nose-bleed-fuck-step to Polish barber-shop and eastern European trad; but music which might be bulked under the inexact and hold-all moniker 'Classical' has always been a bit of a closed book. Partially I suspect I haven't understood it. I'm not going to say until now, because I'm not on a Channel 5 documentary, but basically, some things are beginning to seep through.

To begin with, I must thank the untiring efforts of Guy Perry, the wonderful Sarah, and especially John 'Papa' Haworth in making this happen. Guy battered away at a resolutely and willfully closed door with admirable fortitude; Sarah pointed the way through the Copland/Gershwin route, which was always close enough to my quick-hit song mentality to appeal; John listened to why I didn't like certain things and bought me a fuck load of music I might like. Because of him I have found some gems. I really like 'The Rite of Spring'; I REALLY like Palestrina; I am beginning to be persuaded that Dvorak isn't the monotonous (not literally obviously) horror I once perceived; Elliot Carter and Charles Ives have gone down well; the best of the lot so far though, bringing to classical music the wonderful mania which makes some of the best rock music so sumptuous, are Edgar Varese and Iannis Xenakis. Xenakis pushes towards the experimental percussion work of people like Z'ev, which I experienced recently from the other end of the musical wheel only recently and was underwhelmed by (live at least); not sure how I would try to classify what the music is - I just like it. On the other hand, Varese has enough structure (I'm sure that's the wrong word, but it's late and I can't think of the right one) to suggest more traditional forms, but is totally entrancing - not beautiful I don't think, but really hard to switch off.

Anyway, it's late, and for some reason I'm listening to Varese instead of my latest electronica purchase. I'll be reading the Torygraph next.

(That's not an order)

Sunday, April 23, 2006

British Racing Green

A little cottage by the sea, a glass of gin, a box of chocolates. Don't life aims change?

Sarah has just had an offer accepted on a flat in Cambridge which is a very grown up thing to have happen. The idea of having a home rather than a room is very tempting; however much my parents house still feels like home it isn't *my* home. Does that distinction make any sense? Perhaps not. The problem with this doctorate thing is the odd sort of life-stasis it inflicts: I don't really feel like a student anymore and I feel like life isn't real until I stop being one. Hopefully it will be better when I'm not living in a single room - I'm feeling very constricted by it. Struggling with work at the moment too, which doesn't make the situation any more palatable- no particualr reason why I should be, it just seems that I'm in a natural downswing of output which is a shame. I refuse to be worried by it, it's bound to happen every now and then.

Right. Out of the room; into the library. Who could want for anything else? A little cottage by the sea? Yep. A glass of gin? Oh yes.

Monday, April 10, 2006

On to happier things

like the fact that it is sunny today.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

One day of the great lost days, one face of the faces

I've been thinking lots about how things that happen are processed by our brains: how we interpret them when we reconstruct them afterwards and how we predict those things that might happen in the future. It's all about sadness I suppose - all about that wonderful little cat with the grey body and golden soul who I now know was a much more important influence on me than I ever fully appreciated. She was privy to past and present confidences, and so, in a sense, embodied for me the nostalgia/regret and hope/fear axes of my life; talking things through to such loving but totally unhearing ears helped me balance these things. More than that though, she was a part of my nostalgic memory - a relic of my early teens, preserved in physical appearance, physical activity and personality so far as I could tell; she was unchanging while everything else to do with my life furiously whirly-gigged around. George Eliot wrote that we could never have loved the earth so well if we had no childhood in it; well, Susy has taken a little bit of my childhood with her and the world seems so much danker and so unforgiving without her. I wish I knew where she is, I wish I could really believe she is anywhere, I wish I knew if she feels as lonely as I feel without her, and I heartily wish that she does not; most of all I wish I had never started this fucking post. The cart is broken to pieces and the rugged road is at its end and there's fuck all I can do about it. And I wish I would stop fucking citing things; why do I always fall back on random literature? why don't I think of something clever of my own to say?

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Susy the Cat 1993-2006

This blog is just turning into a list of deaths really. But for the first time, this one really hurts.

Death divided us from each other,
Depriving friend of friend,
Accept this leave-taking - with my tears -
For it is all I have to bring.

The worst thing is that one day I won't cry about it.