Sunday, 27 January 2008

London's Calling, yeah i was there too. NOT.

i should've been doing an 'off to London' post on friday, something about having stupidly missed the Paul Fox Benefit Gig with Henry Rollins and The Ruts last Summer.

my non-appearance was gleefully dissed by too many of those um... y'know, my 'friends'. whether it was in posts on FreeA3, mails, txts and/or on the phone, i could've cut the Schadenfreude with a knife and would've had leftovers to make me weep for weeks after:

'...On Monday 16 July 2007 the band reformed for the first time in 27 years and played a special one off benefit gig for Paul Fox, following his diagnosis with cancer. Hardcore U.S. punk singer and long time Ruts fan, Henry Rollins, stood in for Malcolm Owen. They were supported by Tom Robinson, The Damned, Misty in Roots, UK Subs, Splodge, John Otway and the Peafish House Band which featured Lee Harris, (The Blockheads), Tony Barber of The Buzzcocks and Rowland Rivron they backed Edward Tudor-Pole and TV Smith.

'It has been described by many as one of the best Punk gigs of all time'.

(editor's note: ARRRRGGGHHHHHhhhhh!)

'Fox, who was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer in the summer of 2007, died 21 October of the same year at the age of 56...'

here's a vid i found of Henry and the Ruts doing Staring At The Rude Boys at the Benefit, before Foxy died. anyway, instead of posting another 'off to London' on friday, i was busy running my ass off packing cause we were going to the follow-up gig, 30 Years of The Ruts With Henry Rollins and i was running late (for a change).

at the moment, i'm in Brixton typing very softly, out of respect for the lightweight (Chris) who's sleeping behind me. part II will follow (with photos) when i'm back in Bristol and i can pound away on my own damn keyboard as hard as i please. stay tuned, y'all. :-)

Tuesday, 22 January 2008

Martin Luther King Jr: he had a dream

Dr King (1967): 'A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defence than on progammes of social uplift is approaching spiritual death'.

Mirror on America: What Would Dr Martin Luther King Think About What Was Going On In The World Today?:

'He basically told us 4 decades ago... we were just a little late arriving to the show. If we would just listen to these Prophets when they are here sounding the alarm ... Many of the things that King spoke of 4 decades ago, we see today. It is a combination of things not changing, and King being way ahead of his time, foretelling issues and threats decades ago that we are now seeing develop today in our lifetimes...'

Dr King: 'Men, for years now, have been talking about war and peace. But now, no longer can they just talk about it. It is no longer a choice between violence and nonviolence in this world; it’s nonviolence or nonexistence. That is where we are today...'

right now i'm thinking 'thank fuck he's dead' cause had he lived, he'd have surely lost his mind in the 70s after feeling the glimmerings of hope thanks to our nation's baby step forward, then being blown away by despair when the political pendulum was forced to swing back cause Reagan's henchmen pulled the 2nd Big Lie over our purposely blind eyes. very unfortunately when this shit went down, like the honorable Southern gentleman he is, President Carter took the damn high road just 20 years before President Gore did the same (and just look what happened to him). :-(

all i can say as to what Dr King might think had he lived is LOL, where to begin? selling arms to Saddam in the 80s thus paving the way to our glorious most excellent Middle Eastern Adventure? the rise of amerikan white power and worse yet, Racial Profiling, Reverse Discrimination and the death of Affirmative Action programmes? which, IMO, is one of the stupidest, most vile ideas of the last half of the 20th Century, yet another blot on all that 'land of the free' propaganda.

on a more personal level, i believe he'd find most crucial the percentage of black and brown soldiers from poverty-stricken ghettoes fighting for US on the frontlines in Iraq compared to the percentage of white University-educated officers in Today's Armed and Air-Conditioned Forces. Can you imagine Dr King attending all those funerals and spending his weekends at Walter Reed Hospital? i can. the preznit? not so much.

in another scenario, the hypocrisy might've given poor Dr King a heart attack and there y'go -- problem solved: no more would the embarrassing spectacle of a highly regarded Civil Rights Leader and nationally known pacifist be seen attending the funerals of soldiers whilst the preznit played golf at Camp David.

truthdig: 'Saddled with a costly and senseless war, on the precipice of a recession, suffering from bitter division, America would do well to remember the words of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Though we pause annually to recognize his greatness, we often forget that he was vehemently opposed to war, that his government actively tried to marginalize him and that he was shot while campaigning against poverty...

Think, then, what “I have a dream” really means. It is all-embracing and for all humanity, not just the US of fuckin’ A...'

y'don't say! but way back when, Martin Luther King Day meant nothing more than a day off work (for some), huge department store sales (Dr King's Winter Close-Out!) and some bullshit Brotherhood-themed specials on network TV. way back when, when this first became a holiday, i was working for the wealthiest entertainment attorneys on the East Coast. there were two black employees: Barry and Thomas, the messengers. no, wait; there were three including a breathtakingly beautiful light-skinned secretary called Paris who wanted to be a singer and with whom most of the attorneys cheated on their wives. anyway, Barry and Thomas were really nice dudes; every lunch hour found us walking down Fifth Avenue sharing a joint.

sometimes Paris came along but she was like, only there when she wasn't being wined and dined by whichever attorney's clients. Thomas and Barry were both goodlooking and intelligent; they were working days to earn their degrees at Fordham University at night. my point is, Thomas, Barry and Paris all took off on the first Martin Luther King Day (knowing by whom we were employed, none of the whites, including yours truly, had the balls to do the same).

guess what? when the three returned to work next day, they all got shitcanned. they called Paris back at the end of the week, but that was the last i saw of Thomas and Barry.

bummer about your dream, Dr King.

editor's note: since i don't bother reading American news anymore, i totally forgot MLK Day last week (18. january); i guess this is just one more fucked holiday i'm pleased to give a miss, so as not be forced to endure the one-day hypocrisy and all the lip service emblazoned in headlines all across the nation. once again, i'm glad he's dead, really pleased to know he's not seeing his nightmare. dream. whatever.

'..."I Have A Dream" is a great speech but it's not his greatest work. But America often uses I Have A Dream to try and sanitise King and box him into being a Civil Rights / Racial Equality Leader. The fact is, between 1965 and 1968, King was the leading anti-war voice and leading voice for economic equality in the country...

'...This is the part of King's history that is hardly ever told. It's the part of his history that America tries to smother every year when the nation goes through its so called "remembrance" ... If they really wanted to honor King they would rewrite the school books to tell the true story about his efforts. He was not just a civil rights leader. If they wanted to honor him, they would try to live up to his vision ... a vision that went beyond race and civil rights. Peace was at the heart of his struggle...'

anyway, late as always, but on with the show.

racial harmony? in the 21st century's version of amerika? take a good, hard look at New Orleans today, more than two years after Hurricane Katrina, and you'll see the only district rebuilt is that belonging to way wealthy businessmen, landowners and multi-nationals. y'know -- the NOLA power elite
'hood, the one with all the touri$t attraction$.

i forget the name of the actual Ward and too lazy and depressed to Google out of fear the old memories will come flooding back -- and i do mean 'flooding'. it was during Katrina when i'd wake up at 05,00, sneak out of bed, shut the living room door so Chris wouldn't be bothered and turn on BBC News. then came the tears when i'd compare what they were showing to that which was on Stateside TV News. and then, instead of joining Chris for coffee, i'd continue drinking my ass off.

the huge contradictions in British, European and American reportage (and i use that term loosely) got me boozing it up early, each and every morning. just about the time Chris had showered and was ready for his first coffee, i was typing like a mad man and trying to hide the tears. by the time he was ready to split for work, i was at the point at which i forced my left eye shut in order to see straight. to Chris' credit, he said nothing but raised one of his way fine eyebrows when he kissed me G'bye every morning.

looking on the bright side (hah!) it was thanks to bu$hCo's non-response t0 Katrina that caused me to create my most fave lethal drink ever: cVcV: crushed Valiums sprinkled liberally over chilled Vodka (and make sure you pulverise at least five 10s -- the blue ones -- cause they really numb your ass). but once again, i digress.

i dig thinking that if Dr King were still alive, he'd have repeated this but about the last eight years: 'A nation or civilization that continues to produce soft-minded men purchases its own spiritual death on the installment plan'.

but would anybody listen? i mean, i know, you know, we all know but they don't know. um, uhhh... 'Houston, we've got a problem'.

moving right along, yup, i joke wid Teh Kitteh above: we can haz racial harmony? not while Stumbley mcBruisey's holding the reins of his imaginary horsie (otherwise known in Texass Tawk as Teh Gub'mint).

sorry, people. i totally besmirched this post by including mention of the preznit and his henchmen.

about Dr King? 'When history’s done, what will be left are books and books of quotes and bios of famous orators whose visions we revered but otherwise ignored...'

AFAIC, he's very sadly missed and very much needed more so now than ever before. and unfortunately for US, he's totally forgotten every other day of the year (apart from 4. april, the anniversary of the day he was assassinated). but i still hold onto the essence of his dream, which, since i was a kid, has totally been my own. my fave bit of the 'I Have A Dream Speech' (28. august 1963):

'I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character'.

that was over 40 years ago and it still ain't happening, neither for Dr King's children nor for any other child of color nor for any child of the poverty-stricken cause just like most blacks, the poor don't count either. and the meek ain't gonna inherit shit, but that's a whole 'nother story.

RIP, Dr King. if i had my way, every damn day would be Martin Luther King Day.

Sunday, 20 January 2008

paddle faster -- i hear banjo music

last week, my little sister Bibbe (Barbara Joan on her cheques) flew down to Florida's DisneyWorld to run their stupid marathon. apart from the following, i haven't the words for this enervating, energy-wasting needless expense of yup endurance, but hey, if it makes her feel better, i'm all for it. from her mails:

'...I did the marathon in 3 hours, 14 minutes, which is ten minutes less than the one I did last Spring. I had the BEST time; the medal is hysterical; a big Donald Duck head with a raised picture of him running on it. And a little "banner-like thing" hanging with "2008" on it...'

oh, FFS! i mean, 'whoa, that's great! it sounds really uh... cute!' *to self* whatever blows up yer bloomers, my Semi-Sweet Sibling. *deep, long-suffering sigh* then she wrote 'The best T-shirt we saw was "Paddle faster, I hear banjo music", we were pissing our pants when we saw that one'.

ROTFLMAO! yet another kid 'was holding a sign that said "Run Like You Stole Something!" We were dying laughing from that one as well...

'...all along there were bands playing, fireworks went off when we started and when you go through the park, all the [Disney] characters cheer for you and blow you kisses, and you get a "goody bag" the day before with a DisneyWorld Marathon T-shirt...'

if that's what makes you happy, Bibs... *to self* big whoop, it sounds like the 4. of july with a doggie bag. but after reading the above, i asked her if she'd once again, please try to give some thought as to how the hell we ever ended up being in the same family.

so far she's ignored me but apart from being used to that, i'm holding out hope she'll actually come up with something into which i can sink my emotional teeth (so to speak), something that'll make a bit more sense of my world and help get me through these long Winter nights when i lie in bed pondering incomprehensible shit like that.

and this is no lie -- in all truth, i am rather curious; i mean, we both agree it's either some kinda fluke of nature, a 'switched babies in hospital' thing or a maliciously wack karmic punishment that we're actually related by blood and all. moving right along, a few weeks back, i sent her this next; she freaked and immediately mailed back 'OMFG -- it's US!'

i was all 'no duh, Bibs. why the hell didja think i even bothered to send?' needless to say, i got no reply (not that i was expecting one). before i post the pics of my little sister in her moment of triumph or whatever i just wanna say that AFAIC, the best bit is, she totally didn't waste her hols at the hellish celebrity-studded Canyon Ranch as she usually does (where they're all pampered and waited on hand and foot). this can only be a good sign. :-)

OK, here's the pics. Bibbe's in black of course; the only thing we actually have in common (but in all truth, that could be cause she lives in NYC).

damn, just noticed it appears as if she's kissing the medal. i find this rather disturbing so i think i'm gonna ignore it for as long as i can until i summon up the nerve to ask her if i'm seeing things and if not, if there's a valid explanation. and there better be.

anyway, Bibbe's totally got the last word: so unlike our real lives where i never let her get in Word One and on the rare occasions i felt so inclined, our mother totally put paid to that shit by raising her voice to prevent anyone else from speaking, including her favorite daughter, otherwise known as The Good One:

'...The flights were good although the asshole Florida reporters were all over the airport on Monday because of snow in Boston, Connecticut etc. The "hype" was we were going to have a "long day" getting home. Fuck them, my flight landed 15 minutes early...'

yup, to be honest, it's evident there are a few things i managed to teach my liddle sister. *preening like a proudtard* :-)

Thursday, 17 January 2008

my plight (well, one of the many many)

it seems my hellish manner has actually been assimillated by He Who Calls The Shots 'round these parts (better known as Cunter). this stunning ingratitude is totally amazing to me, since i've been nothing but a dutiful slave (and so much more) to his many feline whims.

to wit: a few hours back, after noticing a particularly rebellious glint in Hunter's eyes whilst he gave me his back, totally ignoring my plea (i.e., 'you know damn well that's taboo territory, so get your ass back down here, pronto') i attempted to cajole him with -- in no particular order -- bribes, promises, threats, treats, catnip, tuna and even human food in a futile effort to get him the hell down from one of The Forbidden Places.

nothing worked. then Rage Against The Machine blasted from my i-Tunes and that's when i learnt of Hunter's latest talent.

no lie -- he was singing. it totally freaked me out, actually. i mean, i felt like i'd just smoked but i hadn't. anyway, Hunter dude, it's quite the pity that for the last almost-three years, i mistakenly assumed you were Normal Non-Singing Kitty, kinda like the other cats i've had the pleasure to know. *sigh*

this is the scene like every morning when continuing his inexplicable fascination silently watching me type from his fave vantage point on the desk. you sure had me fooled, buster... |-(

*sigh* he does this for hours every day but only in the morning when i'm having my coffee. i mean, could he be acting Teh Good Kitteh to like, lull me into submission, only to scare the shit outta me again the next time he decides to sing? have i lost it by even thinking this shit? am i taking the entire anthropomorphosising thing a bit too far? believe me, you should've been here -- and you better believe i don't freak out easily. }-(

moving right along, thank you for ringing me this morning, Christine (especially since it was at the ungoddessly hour of like 05,00 your time -- I AM NOT WORTHY). along with the surprise (and very much desired and might i add, needed) gifts that came in the post last week, hearing your lovely voice really made my day. :-)

BTW, forgot to tell you about last night when i promised your bro' that i shall do my utmost to keep my cool (and lower his stress levels) by shutting the fuck up about any updates regarding our friendship when i see him at Celebrating 30 Years of The Ruts With Henry Rollins in a coupla weeks.

in other news, this is for Chris: i totally couldn't resist this shit, so here they are again for the record. as you know, nobody but you and i will geddit and thass the way it should be. :-)

what did i say in that mail? something like 'it's 2005. after a long, hard day at the office Chris foolishly decides to have a much needed nap'.

and here, we're on more equal ground.

last but certainly not least, here's a photo i secretly took of one of my many minions *giggle* actually doing the heavy lifting in his so-far semi-successful efforts to lighten me up (and feed me). it's hard to see but take my word for it that this next was shot in the pouring rain on Lower Clifton Hill the other night.

rest assured i shall use this for my own nefarious purposes some time in future when you least expect it, you dumbass. oh wait -- i torry, dude. i totally forgot the result of the above was this magnificent wondrousness which fed me for three damn days:

all kidding aside, i mean this from the very bottom of my currently lukewarm heart:

Friday, 11 January 2008

what a difference a day makes (thank you, Mark)

anomie: 'a state or condition of individuals or society characterized by a breakdown or absence of social norms and values, as in the case of uprooted people ... Alienation and purposelessness experienced by a person or a class as a result of a lack of standards, values, or ideals .... personal state of isolation and anxiety...'

i, for one, am so damn sick of suffering from my own personal brand of French diseases of the soul but enough about that, so on to better things.

if anything will ward off anomie or whatever other illness, be it mental, physical, emotional and/or the spiritually enervating sort, it's got to be God's Own Medicine rather, i mean, the totally miraculous power and hope of the music of Alabama 3, in this case, personified by Rock (Delta Slide Dude) Freebase whom, out of the goodness of his heart, by his very presence last night, banished the thunder cloud of angst, despair and hopelessness which has hung over me since the MOR Tour ended way back in Autumn.

A: what more can i say about him on which i haven't already waxed way too rhapsodic?
Q: nothing really, cause way too many people already translate my respect and admiration to something akin to sex, which couldn't be further from the truth.

moving swiftly along from the LCD who seem compelled to reduce any dude/chick friendship to that including the 'F' word comes this personal thank you to Mark (whom i know'll take this from whom it comes; the 8-year old boy within). due to your latest visit, dude, i amazingly feel so much better -- alive and resuscitated -- about Life in general, so thank you, sweet boy, from the bottomless pit of my cold, cold heart for having the fortitude for spending 6 goddamned hours on trains journeying from Kent to mine in the hinterlands of Bristol, just to do me an immensely well-packed solid and by your converse, lifted my spirits from the doldums of depression, ennui and dare i say it? shit, yeah: suicidal ideation.

i owe you, dude (but you'll have to pry my huge payback from my cold dead hands -- LOL, joke!). but in all seriousity, i'm terribly proud to call you friend as only a true friend would g0 through the hell of friday night rush hour British trains to deliver his self to mine and cheer me immensely, more than i can say here.

yup, y'all, i'm preening my ass off but in a very subdued manner. far be it for me to betray my way cool exterior and actually display gratitude, affection and appreciation at this latest demonstration of (let's call it) brotherly love i.e., dogging his virtual High and Mighty shadow as only an older and wiser brother, mentor and confidant might deign permit. *snigger*

right, dude, almost forgot: if all goes well later on, i have just one itty bitty final selfish request, Mark:

what's blasting: Slow Dance Away (recorded, produced and arranged by Rock Freebase). please remember, R-click and save to your hard drive. and enjoy. :-)

and please y'all, *snigger* don't read anything untoward into this next --- kthxbai!

Friday, 4 January 2008

Q: i can haz happy noo yeer, even? A: not with that attitude you won't.

first off, with Chris' encouragement, i finally caved about writing on the past, so i've been doing that in my *cough* spare time. LOL, no details but suffice it to say, i'll be back in full bloom or full fury or something as soon as i get my head (temporarily) out of the clouds or removed from my ass, whichever comes first. in all fairness, prior experience along with the Asperger's forces me to say it's a major operation as well as no mean feat... um, it just might take a while. for now, this is what Chris called 'The best line of 2007' under no. 10 in The 50 Most Loathsome People in America.

wait, i want the word 'felching' to be here on record, so that all the p0rn spambots will have yet another keyword with which to plague my Inbox (hopefully substituting for their current fave: 'fuckstick'). and at this point in time, i'm proud to say this comes with the extra added side effect of being indexed by Google for-EVuh, so here's the best line of 2007: 'Been felching sweet approval from bush's lily-white ass since Texas'.

ooh, that's twice... felching. three times! *to self* this so reminds me of when i was a little kid and learnt my first dirty word ('shit') and then i'd scream it over and over whenever i left the house as long as i had an adult audience. yup, nothing much's changed since then but i don't wanna think on that now. *cough*

anyway, i'm so glad the holidays are over! so long suckers, rather, goodbye and good riddance to all the attendant faux joy, bogus benevolence and phoney, contrived cheer, and that goes triple for the feigned good will. new year's eve was thankfully uneventful cause i was way too busy being depressed to even notice. and when i'm that bad, i get even more involved trying to contaminate unsuspecting others and darken their spirits. *evil*

does misery love company? *whispers* even if i knew, i totally wouldn't tell. but in all truth, on monday night i felt like the narrator of Fight Club, i felt like a little Black Hole, sucking in and finishing off all the happy i could find, and i hoped it was me and if it weren't, that nobody else would notice.

a few hours before, i'd got to London without any mishap, then wended my way down to Brixton and, for whatever reason, felt pretty good until Chris reminded me about the airlines losing his bags. these included a present for me as well as a new laptop for Freebase and that prompting plunged me way back down to the bottom of despair or whatever.

anyway, a little later on, Mark came by to bug us and we lapsed into a little episode of what might be the last Rock and Rimone Show (as usual, they laughed. i didn't); Chris played -- excuse the mention -- some Neil Diamond whilst i made puking motions (and they called me 'stupid' or something); then after refuelling, we went to the Albert. i spent about an hour or so pretending i was having an OK time, and then it became just a bit too much. when i decided to moan i knew it was time so i left everyone there -- out of respect -- and like tiptoed back to Chris' to be by myself.

this wasn't as bad as it might sound cause he'd left quite an array for me to pig out on, so at least that was good. then i put my phone on 'silent' and crashed, totally safe in my carefully crafted physically and emotionally distant imaginary cocoon.

Chris came back about 03,00 and we talked till about 07,00 when he fell out, the lightweight. *snigger* i wasn't tired so i went up to Pixie's and spent a few hilarious hours with him and Freebase (still maintaining the front lines on Planet Duh). i think i remember attempting to show some loudmouthed homey how not frightened i was of him... heh. :-)

in all honesty, it didn't work, mostly cause my heart wasn't in it and anyway, he was totally boring so AFAIC, not worth the effort. while he droned on, trying to impress us with his (to me, non-existent) criminal street cred, hollow threats and the typically empty mock macho dickswinging, i kept myself busy writing in my Palm. this didn't sit too well with him and he was forced to call (mangle) my name in a futile effort to secure my notice. *yawn* zzzzzzz...

i ended up taking control of the situation by pretending he set off some really bad memories and just as i assumed, after it became apparent i was hogging centre stage -- with both Pixie and Mark at my side -- and there was no damn way i was about to quit attention whoring, he finally took a hike. *snigger* LOL, fuckin' amateurs!

we all laughed our asses off, then after an hour or so, Mark and i split about noon and ended up pigging out on Eggs Benedict at SW9, the only place open in Brixton new year's day. well, it was that or KFC or McDonald's and we totally weren't about to go into those. anyway, then we met up with Chris again and after that, it all seems a bit hazy... wait, i think i remember Chris and i individually and together declined to go to Orlando's for his birthday thing. then Mark took off for the party, of course, and Chris and i talked more for awhile and then i went home. it was all very vanilla and that's the way i wanted it. :-)

*sigh* last night Chris rang to say Gatwick finally delivered his bags, so hoorah for that. right, um... for the past few days i've purposefully kept a very low profile on the Internetz cause i've been working on somehow translating what Christine's husband Michael so kindly (i think) called my 'wonderful madness' to a form more safely palatable here. *rolls eyes*

right, i found this next kitteh on I Can Haz Cheezburger and AFAIC, the shoe totally fits, so this one's for you, Michael:

we'll see what we have when i'm finished but being a kitteh who's a natural born dawdler, i have no idea when 'finished' might actually happen. LOL, stay tuned. :-)