Monday, 31 May 2010

Scrofulus...

In space, no one can hear you scream! There, I've said it now. I've been wanting to say that for a while, though why such things spring to mind I have no idea [for the record, the quote is from the the original poster advertising the Ridley Scott film, Alien]

Is it only me, or do others blurt out things apropos of nothing? I frequently find myself voicing odd words or quoting, sometimes singing, well-known song lyrics and short phrases. Always, they're unrelated to what I'm doing or thinking at the time.

I think this is indicative of my often, fragmented internal life.

Jitterbug, we'll do the jitterbug... you see? I've done it again... a snippet from Wham's 1984 hit, "Wake me up before you go-go".

Some enchanted evening... aaarrrggghhh!


Friday, 21 May 2010

Outward bound

I'm going away again, and soon. On June 21st I fly off to Turkey to board a Gulet (a traditional sailing ship) and spend a week doing nothing in particular, except eat, drink, swim, and relax. I'm going alone; however, I will be joined by 10 other holidaymakers, all of whom are in the same boat (no pun intended) as solo travellers. I have no idea as to their age or gender, but frankly I don't care.

Thursday, 20 May 2010

Business as usual...

It's official. I heard the news today from my boss, via SMS text (yes, I'm that important): starting the beginning of June, I'm back on full-time work! Now I have to re-adjust to working a full five days as opposed to four. To be honest, I don't relish the prospect, though the pain will be marginally softened by extra money. Having more time to myself has been, all things considered and despite my vexed personal life, more than welcome. I'm a spiritual guy at heart, so please don't be misled by my recent admission to retail-therapy. Believe me, money is not that important. I shall miss my mid-week micro-sabbatical. Sigh.

Wednesday, 19 May 2010

Buying oblivion!

In one day, I purchased a new pocket-camera and an Apple Ipad. In retrospect I'm wondering why. I own a perfectly functional (meeting all of my photographic needs) Panasonic with 10x zoom, so why purchase a Samsung, similar in most respects, apart from extra magnification at 15X? And the Apple ipad? If you're not familiar with this device, imagine, it's larger than a cellphone but smaller than a netbook computer. It may have a greater data-input capability than the phone, but that only has value if used out and about and frequently, for
blogging, lengthy emails, and the like.

I'm the victim of that common but futile attempt to fill a void in one's life by purchasing "stuff". Some folks eat, some become manic, and others, like myself, buy gadgets. We're all trying to do the same thing though, that is, take our mind off what's bothering us.

I hope to resolve my life-crisis soon... before it bankrupts me!

Tuesday, 18 May 2010

Lacking finesse

I couldn't go to work today, allthough, "couldn't", may be too strong a word. If I'd steeled myself, I'd have made it; but do I want to spend two and a half hours travelling, along with 8 hours sitting, when my bowels are operating on a hair-trigger, my head is thumping, and my bones, muscles, sinews, and my cells too, are aching?


It's not all bad though, for is it not true, every cloud has a silver-lining? Apart that is, from those without, like cheap curtains... but I digress. Something good happened.


I had a "moment". An instance of inspiration which, on reflection could have gone wrong, but which nevertheless, I chose to act upon.


My action? I gave the lap top a single, and as an Irishman might say, tump!. It resolved my "trapped cd" problem... or, as I might say, t'werked.

Monday, 17 May 2010

Stick it in, at your peril...

Revelation: I can be stupid. Yes, it's true, there's no use in protesting (do I hear strains of, "no way... tell me it's not true!") I'm confessing to an dumbness that ranks amongst the best of the blunderers.


In this life, it's an asset to have the commonsense not to go poking your hands, fingers, head, or anything else, into a slot, hole, or any opening in which you're not sure of: a) it's appropriateness or, b) of what lies inside. Today, my blunder is of the former sort - why on earth I blithely stuck it in, I don't know, but I regret it now, and I have to pay the price.


Hands up all of you who are aware of slot-loading cd drives, as opposed to the drawer kind? And hands up all of you who are aware of smaller, 80mm cds, as opposed to the standard 120mm? Well, let me tell you, nay, warn you... don't go poking your little disc into the slot kind... you'll be disappointed. It will go in, but that's all. No whirring, no humming, no playing, no nuttin! It's as if it "doesn't touch the sides"! So, how can you expect an appropriate response? But it gets worse - the damn thing, though it slides in all too smoothly and easily, it cometh out not!


Good news, my My 12" Apple Powerbook continues to work, but future cd-ripping to itunes is threatened. To resolve the problem, I've an appointment with the "tecchies" at the local Apple Store, "Genius Bar".


I'll feel like the small boy in the doctor's surgery, you know the one, he's there to have the glass marble removed, the one deeply embedded in his nostril.


Blush.

Sunday, 16 May 2010

Hot Stuff

Today, Sunday, I spent a few hours in the City Centre. Time was, "back in the day", this was a regular haunt. Then, many of my blog posts were conceived during the time spent sitting in my favourite coffee shop, The Coffee Republic, and the period relaxing on the sofas provided in Waterstones Bookstore. An age ago it seems.

I failed to get inspired. However, I did perspire; though not due to the weather, although it was warm; instead, the perspiration was due to the exceptionally large hot-dog complete with fried onions and smattering of West Indian Hot Pepper Sauce.

I've little else to say. Most of my thoughts are dull, personal, and way too abstract to be of interest here. It's a confidence issue. I need to wrest myself out of my head and get back into the real world. Not for the sake of the blog, but for the sake of my sanity. Still, baby steps, eh?

Next week, I'm going to mix Pepper sauces. Is there no end to my derring-do?

Thursday, 13 May 2010

Jugs...

I consider myself to be a writer, but label myself so, simply because I like to write, not because I'm published or particularly able in any way. In my estimation it's the most competent thing I do.

My pleasure is to lay words on the page, to construct sentences, and to arrange them in paragraphs. Where possible I like to convey meaning too, but this is not always my primary goal as I find I can't write if I'm not having at least a little fun; so be prepared to find liberties taken with words, as they may be "distorted", or even newly invented (neologisms) as with the title of a long ago aborted blog of mine - "Wazzmococcic".

The word "wazzmococcic" is contrived from the word "wazzo", first heard in the BBC comedy Bottom , the reference being, "wazzo jugs"; "jugs" meaning breasts, and "wazzo", meaning, "impressive". The latter part, "coccic", is derived from "cocci" - a word approximating, I think, "of great proportion" - found in one of (I forget which) Henry Miller's trilogy of books, Sexus, Nexus, and Plexus. Anyway, it will suffice to say, "Wazzmococcic" is synonymous with, "of splendid grandeur". Onward we go...

Losing myself

I love to travel. Not an uncommon admission, I grant you, as few fail to get excited about visiting climes new. And I share in this buzz too, but in this instance, I'm referring to the act of travelling itself. When the packing is done, the taxi is loaded, and I'm off on my way to the airport, I'm transformed. Mundane concerns melt away and I feel... well... I just feel. Self-identity seems absent, or at least, greatly diminished. Maybe, just maybe...[wait for it... an original thought coming up, at least original to me]... too well-honed a sense of who we are is an obstacle to self-fulfillment?

I've found leaving my
self behind is the most liberating feeling. All the self-labelling that personal identity consists of, is gone. All the rules I impose on myself take a back step. I'm not such an such a person with such and such beliefs, I'm more fluid, more understanding, more tolerant perhaps. A better person?

Maybe there's an object lesson here in how best
to be, or at least, how to aspire to be. The problem is though, the return journey. I have an inkling now of why I get depressed on arriving home. These days I want the outward bound journey to last forever.