Silence Is Platinum

…except it’s not…

…it’s quite annoying!

That was bizarre… I broke the internet! Yes, I admit it, ‘twas me… I broke it… Except to be more accurate… it wasn’t the internet… it was just my little bit of it… and when I say broke I mean incapacitated… and when I say I it should actually read Microsoft. So, I was pretty much accurate apart from the actual details…

All of a sudden, a few days after my last post, I started having some ‘connectivity’ issues. I tried pulling up IE and Firefox but all I was getting was the ‘site not available’ thing. I was definitely getting a connexion to the web but just no screens so I deduced it was a software problem rather than an ISP fault which just made me more confused. Now, I’m no computer expert so I found running round like a big headless chicken rather a good idea and it sure made up for trying to actually work out what had gone wrong. Just as I was about to give up and ring my friendly neighbourhood computer engineer I thought I’d give my ISP (Demon) helpline a try. My ISP were their usual brilliant selves and after literally seconds they’d solved the problem and got me up and working despite it not being their problem. They asked some pretty simple questions: had I had a recent Microsoft update, what anti-virus/ firewall do I use, could I open it and follow their list of alterations and… lo, the internet was un-broken! So, my anti-virus had all of a sudden decided that my browsers were a serious security threat and were blocking them- who knew- I’d certainly never heard of such a thing! And a few days later an urgent security update came from the anti-virus people designed to solve the problem that Microsoft’s update had caused. So, that was weird!

Anyway, anybody else catch the British 7 minutes at the Beijing closing ceremony? Anybody else cringe with embarrassment as we wheeled out a zebra-crossing, a queue, a fight for a bus, an ageing hippie, a reality TV star and an overpaid footballist (Britain has Olympic football?!?!). Best Of British??? All it needed was a hoodie stabbing someone and a couple of puking binge-drinkers to complete the picture! Imagine this expanded to 2 hours for the opening ceremony. We’re told the 2012 Olympics is going to be ‘youthful’ and ‘cutting edge’. So they get said reality star and hippie for Beijing… meanwhile in London... Will Young, Heather Small and the cast of a 70’s themed musical. So youthful, so cutting edge! Anybody else thinking Millennium Dome contents or Jubilee Spam Fritters? And what was this dispiriting farrago meant to represent?

Anyway, there’s a herd of cobwebs cluttering up the corridors here at Castle Overbombing… time to blow them away…!

KLF with Extreme Noise Terror: 3 a.m. Eternal (Live At The Brits 12th February 1992)

OK Computer

So what ‘very important thing’ shall I post about today? Global warming? Economic meltdown? Possible timetable for nuclear war? Nah! Let’s go with a post for people like me… idiots!

Or more precisely, this is a post for all those people like me who are normally quite sane and intelligent* but when confronted by technology turn into a particularly stupid two-year old. And so to a modern morality tale... or at least a modern tale with some sort of moral. Or maybe even a moral with some sort of modernity in its tale. Don’t ask me…

Sometimes my head is filled with luminous luxuriant thoughts brimming full of such magnificence and glory that the sun itself could be dimmed by them; of course, mainly my thoughts tend to burble along like a clear mountain stream with a song that sings of cats, music, cats, film, cats, music, cars, music, cats and cats… And, of course, sometimes my head is just filled with a sort of molasses-like drivel that makes no sense to man nor beast.

Of late my laptop slowed to a crawl… taking upwards of five to ten minutes to load a single web page, so I gave up trying, and at one point became so gummed up that it took over an hour to become unstuck again. Now, does my poor beleaguered head tell me to think through things logically and work out how to resolve them amicably for all parties concerned? Or does it tell me to run round the ramparts wailing and gnashing my teeth waving my fist angrily at a vengeful God? Give you a clue: wasn’t the former. Finally, the brain found some semblance of sanity and remembered what I used to do on a semi-regular basis. Before the rot set in.

And here comes the moral for all the technophobes and fellow idiots out there…

Laptops, and presumably other devices, have various things lurking around inside them. These things are sometimes put there to help. There is a thing called ‘Cache’. This needs clearing out on occasion. There is a thing called ‘cookies’. These should be eaten occasionally and the crumbs disposed into the midden. If you have an ‘Ad-aware’… use it. Oh, and properly turning off ‘the machine’ rather than always just shutting the lid for hibernation is a good way of clearing the virtual memory. And lo, when all these things had been accomplished, it was good: the laptop did work wonderfully and, indeed, the internet was not actually broken.

And the moral of the story? Sometimes it’s not just the technology that’s out to get us; sometimes it’s given a more than adequate helping hand by the fool with the opposable thumbs.

Of course, the good thing about all this is that I’ve been able to take a longer than usual break from the screen which has allowed my eyes to settle back to that whole being able to see properly thing.

So, onto other mindless trivia exciting** news. I’ve spent a good deal of the last couple of weeks worrying about the fluffiest of the cats (known variously as Billy or Flib but known to himself only by his own private cat name… the only thing he actually reacts to is the sound of a mousse lid being peeled back- he just can’t spell!). So, Bill Flib came in and settled to doing absolutely nothing for a couple of days having been out scrapping all night… He’d only managed to get a hole carved out of him the size of a marble… no blood but the world’s largest quantity of vile smelling pus. And so a trip to vet to get it looked at and a second trip to the vet because I decided to worry unnecessarily. The vet cleaned the wound with a cotton-bud and the thing went in and under the skin about an inch: watching inanimate objects entering living flash where they didn’t ought is a genuinely bizarre sight. So for a while he was more a pusycat. I was very surprised at how fast this managed to heal up: two weeks to go from gaping wound to mere scab. Staggering!

Other exciting*** non-news: a CD bought on the highly addictive eBay arrived. The Best Of X-Mal Deutschland, apparently pressed in Brazil^ but bought from a nice chap in Poland. Took a grand total of 5 days to arrive which is far faster than most Brits can manage. It’s very good- how’s that for reviewing prowess? And also arriving was a nice 5-disc Stravinsky set (Orchestre de la Suisse Romande conducted by Neeme Järvi) which was a present to me from me. And I’ve gone back to ‘Untitled Conspiracy Thriller’ (UCT) with the intention of making it work properly this time. I’ve gone back to first principles and the entire plot is now on small scraps of paper pinned to a board. Currently, the major problem is the missing last ten minutes: I don’t particularly want to ‘do a Schrader’. This ending issue also seems to have flummoxed those who’ve trodden this road before me. I know these things: I checked.

And in the immortal words of Columbo ‘just one more thing’: does anybody know if the woman in the Bold 3-in-1 advert is the lovely Nicola Bryant, formerly of Doctor Who…?

*You’ve never met me… you can’t contradict!
**Legal note: I’m using the word in the loosest possible meaning of the word.
***Again with the lies!
^Not sure how legitimate this actually is but the quality’s good as are the songs.

Darling, You’re Meme

…word has reached my mountain lair that I have been ‘memed’. This means I have inveigled my way into being accepted… and thus the first stage of my plan for ‘total global domination within the next five years’ is now complete! Mwahahahaha! Until I reveal the list… then you’ll all just laugh at me! Actually, this turned out to be far harder than I thought it would as I realised I considered what I thought I was proud of deeply lame! So, here, in no particular order, are ‘five things about myself that other people may consider lame, but this writer is secretly proud of’.

I have never willingly taken illegal drugs. Why does this make me lame? Because I kind of assume that pretty much everybody else nowadays is regularly getting off their faces!* Because of this I have been able to reach the following conclusion...

I have never understood fashion. For example, why would I need a new pair of jeans with a different fit just because some gonk on a magazine thinks I do? My old jeans work fine- battered but comfortable, why buy new while they're still functional?

This applies to things thrown up by technology. Facespace? Mybook? Friends Dehumidified? Not a clue! I got my first CD player in 1993 (so I could listen to the Under The Gun and Tower of Strength CD singles amongst other things). It sounded great in ’93. It sounds great in ’07. Why would I need to upgrade? I don’t own an iPod; I will never own an iPod… I want to be aware of my surroundings. Then there are computer games: I played one in the 80’s then once again maybe a year ago. What on earth is so endlessly fascinating?**

However, I do have a mobile phone… it has a dial^. And if I was a complete Luddite you’d be reading this when the carrier pigeon knocked on your door. Fashion: an excuse to try and sell me things I neither want nor need just to keep the economy growing. Not being interested in any of this fashion stuff frees up a lot of time for other far more useful things like...

I have catalogued all my Vinyl & CDs and all my Videos & DVDs. Really. Lame. Until you consider the numbers involved. I don’t have a deep desire to start duplicating things just to avoid appearing geeky! Everything is then sub-divided and cross-referenced just to increase the lameness of the whole endeavour. On the other hand, the setting up of these lists was how I taught myself to type without looking at the keyboard. Which I’m also quite proud of… even if I can only do it on a flat laptop-style keyboard! This has no bearing on the fact that...

I seem to prefer the company of cats to humans. They’re self-contained, can be self-sufficient, they’re smarter, friendlier, more honest, less greedy, better conversationalists, don’t get drunk and keep themselves cleaner… albeit in the most disgusting of ways. Of course, this excludes all members of the Scribosphere, family members and potential employers who are all wonderful, wonderful people. I’m backing the ‘opposable thumbs for cats’ campaign! When we recognize their place as our Overlords the world will finally be set to rights! I have never catalogued my mogs but they do help with the fact that...

I believe in Ghosts. Not the nice Hippy-New Age kind that come with crystals and chanting and then do the dusting with the corners of their sheets. Oh no. These are the type that cause cats to stare into space and hiss. These are the evil spirits that throw crockery, poke you in the eye and hide the teabags (could there be a greater Evil than that?). However, I'm safer than the rest of you because I know they're out to get us. Thankfully, they won't sneak up on me because...

I never switch off. My brain is continually fizzes. Everything is there to be learned from or studied. Films, TV, magazines, books, CD’s, CD booklets, the internet, watching people… thoughts and ideas explode every second and every single one must be written down. This means I never need to take drugs...

I must sound suitably lame by now? Did I pass the audition? Of course, nothing I do is actually lame… everybody who doesn’t do what I do is! Isn't it the truth that one man's meat is another man's poison. It should also be noted that most of the music I have collected could well be considered ‘lame’…

…I shall put the mark of the meme upon…. Valentine Suicide, Rob, MJ, Tom and the person who keeps arriving here via this search or alternatively Andy…

*I chose those opening words very carefully because about 20 years ago I was ONCE givena mug of hot chocolate spiked with a well-known resin by a ‘friend’ for ‘fun’. It was all a waste of time as I’d already drunk the best part of a bottle of Smirnoff. I just fell asleep. The 'friend' soon became an ‘ex-friend’ and I never felt a need to try it again. I also recently discovered the painkillers I was prescribed for my dislocated knee a decade or so ago were Class B but that was all legit as there was a prescription.

**Is this Halo 3 thing that everybody mentions a computer game of some kind?

^That’s a lie… it’s just two tin cans on a line of string!

A Pain That I’m Used To

I was reminded of something by an aside in a post from Comrade Arnopp at http://jasonarnopp.blogspot.com/2007/09/writer-endorphin.html. (I'd do something smart with that cumbersomeness but I haven't worked out how yet.) I rarely drink these days, no drugs or 'fags' (neither really appealed), however…

…however, most days, I rattle like a pharmacy. A couple of pills for the usual minor ailments we all have… you hit 20 and your body just starts falling apart… or was that just me? Then I often take a few painkillers: the maximum strength Ibuprofen. (Annoyingly, I found out a coupld of months back I’d been taking twice the daily dose- ineffectually- because being a writer obviously means that I can’t actually read simple bits of packaging!)

By the way, explain this one to me: if I buy 400 mg tablets I’m allowed to take 4 a day but if I take the 200 mgs I can guzzle 8… but isn’t this the same thing? Now, I have a high pain threshold, I was told that by an expert (a physio not dominatrix… though their techniques look suspiciously similar), but I still prefer to have the edge removed. By the way, it’s nothing particularly serious in the scheme of things, so don’t be getting all big concerned looks across your collective faces.

Paracetomol doesn’t contain an anti-inflammatory, aspirin helps me become reacquainted with my dinner, Ibuprofen works a bit. But I find this a touch problematic. Then to counter the numbing of the Ibuprofen I drink about 8 gallons of PG a day.

So, here’s the conundrum: if I take all the Ibuprofen I need for to do its trick I end up rather foggy and my brain feels like it’s wrapped up in damp towels and writing becomes somewhat difficult as I can’t come up ideas or good words. On the other hand, if I don’t take them, I can’t settle for more than 10 minutes without getting uncomfortable and needing to stretch all the time but my mind fires on all cylinders. (Don't think I'm whining about this though, 'cos I'm not... there's a lot of people with far worse problems than mine. It's just an intriguing conundrum for me.)

Tricky though, t’ain’t it?

Now, don’t get me started on Opioids*…

*prescription synthetic morphine-codeine preparations.

“Time may change me but I can’t trace time.” -Changes, David Bowie.

A Slight Case Of Overblogging!

Well now. I would appear to have created a blog. I didn't intend to. I was just looking up how to do it, messing with titles and so on... and there it was!

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To paraphrase the Bard, Edmund Blackadder, 'So, you don't know the way to blog either! Bugger!'

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I had decided not to start posting anything until I'd actually got something to say. All I have is opinions. So, now I'm here and you're out there and I ought to say something about something. And I still don't have anything to say. But, hey, that's never stopped me before.

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I know the blog title is a Sisters Of Mercy album but I was trying it for size and it went hideously wrong! And anyway, if I'm prolific it's accurate and if I never post again, it's ironic.

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So and indeed... there!