Burning hot heads

Without a radical mindset change to our way of life: living, social interaction, consumption, just imagine how things will be when the world has a population of 9 billion, or if the population was represented as non-burning double-decker buses, imagine adding another deck making it into a triple-decker; with the extra requirements needed for fuel, materials, an increase in running costs, more paint, sturdier wheels, a conductor to race up and down the stairs (or lift) quelling trouble and so on, but all the while utilising the same amount of raw materials on the triple as used on the decker. 

But in our current non-changed mindset, the sharks, sorry vultures, no speculators circle everything that hints at the whiff of a promise for higher than inflation returns.  Regardless of whether the hunt for those returns leaves swathes of devastation impacting the environment, destroying the habitats of thousands of species and affecting the lives of so many who don’t share the same need for greed or lust for power, or need for a dynasty rivalling the emperors.

With 16 (or so) non-sleep useful hours a day of scrabbling around to ensure they have those essentials like clothes, i(pods/pads*), rent or mortgage, a holiday or two, oh food and work - all taken care of; whilst on the other, those (the vast majority?) who are just scrambling around fast enough to ensure they have at least one meal a day; is it really any wonder why those of us with access slump in front of some sort of screen at the end of a hard days work and watch the endless flow of inane nonsense pouring from it.  Not because we don’t care or aren’t interested (and yes i know that’s been remarkably charitable), but after fighting all day at work - in a job they may or may not enjoy, wasting hours getting there, then back home to look after off-spring or been a carer, or to undertake one of the many hundreds of things we all do on a daily basis, before we call time and relax.  It’s probably not too inconceivable a stretch to understand why most would rather just subsume in to the flow, than consider the needs of a few stupid stranded dolphins up the river duff.  With an avalanche of information and mis-information for people to wade through, is it really any wonder?

What is freedom?  We hear it bandied about like a hat been stuffed with notes before the conclusion of a cock-fight.  It means something.  It’s obviously viewed as precious as millions die fighting for it and just as many are manipulated into fighting to restrict it as their version truly is more free.  Those acts, which when viewed under the guise of waving banners of freedom, oddly transform into oppressive insouciance when experienced elsewhere.

But seriously, if you want to be a burning hot-head, consider being a burning hot-head for the whole planet – we all live on. 

* delete as appropriate

Welcome to the 22rd century a re-run of the 12th?

Might have to get a very large popcorn bucket, along with my hat for this one.

A civilised species that’s so fragile we demand people don't even think of poking fun at anything we believe in else our (some of the populaces’) foaming incoherent rage immediately explodes following any knee-jerk baiting, showing they’re as bad as us who are just as bad as them – whoever ‘them’ happens to be at any particular moment or time or space.

Easily provoked into reaction, following a mad rush to prove who has a bigger set.   Watch for who the balls toll, as the brass balls’ll be a clanging!

Goring rise

As the book burning, flag trashing, effigial pimping, masses of the world continue with their centuries same-old same-old; the next generation's proudly packed off - to begin anew - the goring rise of intolerance.

Life in the other place

"I have 10 million people who say my parrot's a bigger, badder, more gentle, loving, peaceful and wise shaggy parrot than your shabby parrot!"

"Oh really! Well I have 10 million and one people, who say otherwise; and will fight you to the death to prove to it!"

Urks?

A time honoured missive of dubious proportions.

Slash or burn

Upon hearing a leading politician talk about people treating being unemployed as a 'lifestyle choice', i hope that i'm not the only one who raised his eyes, and released a very slow controlled exhalation of air, and imagining it disappearing into the outer reaches of the vacuum of space before turning ones thoughts back to taking our new chancellor by the head and have him closely acquainted with a nearby batwing table; in the hope some sense seeps from it.

So he thinks that people would prefer to stay on benefits than have a job that pays them a living wage, that enables them to eat good nutritious food, that would allow them to enjoy the odd holiday or "treat", that would allow them to do more than just pop down to a dole office once a fortnight to receive a pittance that would make most people wonder whether that's enough to buy tiddles food let alone more than a couple of days fine food for themselves. 

Remember, the odd few that hit the headlines hides the many hundreds of thousands who manage within their means, who play by the rules and who take umbrage at this governments blinkered charge hoeing everything unemployed into the 'wasted chaff' bin.

What they should do is allow people to properly train, to gain and add new skills, even to allow them into education to gain those oh so necessary papers for the 7am to 8pm burger flipping shift. 

To once more enable a nation of shopkeepers* to vigorously thrive by utilising truly transformative innovations from whichever arena of life they happen to hail from.

Hope? Hardly. 

Not until someone in this government displays more vision than the screaming next victim in a slasher movie can they then truly say they not only have the best interest of the majority of the populace at heart, but they really do have a plan that involves more than just slash or burn.

*the term shopkeer is generic in its use.

Deep-deep-deep bass!

I had apparently missed a doozy of an evening, emanating from the innards of the entertainment venue - on top of the additional buses whose drivers have obviously never come in contact with the highway code, nor an off-switch.

Yes, the air was thick with extra-deep, deep-deep, deep-deep, deep deep bass.  The worst ever!  I'm glad i wasn't there, but instead experiencing the enjoyment of having someone else cook a veritable enjoyable and delightfully filling dinner: herby rice with chicken & mushrooms, with an exquisite helping of shredded carrot tossed in lemon vinaigrette, and followed by just the right size dessert to have me sitting gassing (from the right end), for many a while afterwards.  No red eyes from the relentless bus fumes (the penalty of living so close to the gutter), no pounding inner cranial matter courtesy of the holes from the venue next door.  

But that all came to light after listening to messages awaiting my return.  Messages indicating the new scale (or is that gauntlet) that has being climbed (thrown down) by those concerned with the running of the venue - yes o², shame on you too.   After all, what hope for lowly residents against the combined mighty conviviality of so many - with election year a dim dot on the horizon?

 

Viva la-anything?

Ah the french. You have to love them for their good food, fine wines, flair for disdain, and generally snooking two-fingers to authority that we (the down-trodden and oppressed) in the uk look on, admire and applaud, or would do if we had any sense.

Especially when it comes to defending their rights.  What a difference a revolution makes. 

Although looking at the usa, we could be forgiven for not being able to put our finger on the precise moment their happy days started to derail.

Unnatural polyesters

The next time someone witters on about how unnatural something is, first take them through this starting checklist:

1. Are you now, or have you ever had any tablets, injections or powders for a medical emergency – outside of naturally occurring ones i.e., licking the back of a hallucinogenic toad or happy 'rooms?
   
2. Have you ever had any medical procedure which involved anything more than the use of a saw-tooth bone and dried pummelled plant fibre for thread to sow you back up?
   
3. Have you ever used a bus, car, bicycle, aeroplane, tank, tanker, submarine?
   
4. Have you ever used concrete, upvc, pvc, ipa, lycra, polyester, crack?
   
5. Do you live in anything other than a wigwam, mud hut, igloo, a true grass hut (hay doesn’t count) made purely from naturally grown and locally produced materials?

If they answer ‘yes’ to all of those starter questions, then you can rest assured their utterances regarding all things unnatural can be viewed with more than the normal healthy hint of scepticism.  If they are, however, communicating via anything other than: carrier pigeon, quill, parchment or face-to-face non-technological interfacial means, tell them where to get off as you take their laptop and chase them off your land, beating them over the head with it as you do.

Treats

I am one of millions who collects (as per normal retail visits) coupons or vouchers, but especially loyalty points on my shopping, because all those 0.00001p’s that would otherwise be pooled and creamed off by the companies - at a rate they have already costed into their profits - regardless of whether people use the schemes or not - all those points over time (five years for an average shopper) add up to buy that special meal for one, at christmas!

I have, however, of late become rather aghast (too ebenezerish?) at nectar and their wee-twee-all-so-cutesy use of the word "treat" that drips from overuse on their website.  As if we were all a tail, wagging with gusto at the latest crumb hurtling from on high.  So much so, that whenever I pop onto the website and my eyes are assaulted by those never-ending permutating "treats" you can spend your treaty points on, an imminent need to assume the bone-jarring wobbly knee porcelain hugging position, briefly takes over forcing me to flee the page. 

Perhaps I am becoming even more cynical than I thought (despite taking into consideration the visual appeal of imagining the crumpled remains of a boy-racer who whizzes by into the air as he becomes permanently detached from his bike, just as he goes hurtling past the stationary and quiet burnt out remains of a bus), whilst the idea of either a stone shack, igloo or wicker-basket in the middle of nowhere, continues to grow unabated.

But it doesn’t even end there! 

I pop onto yet another (once favourite) website - a supposed technical get your hands grubby with thermal grease - website, only to see that it too has succumbed to the tide!

“You’ll be getting a visual treat ... because it comes with a bright 15.6” screen and Intel GMA graphics” - yes morgan computers, this is you.

At some stage the continual compromise reaches the point where you feel like a sliver of a shadow of shadows gone befor- right!

Damnable boy-racer’s; never a pc, sps or traffic monitoring station around when you want one…  Where’s my bazooka!?…

Naturally, refusing a ride on a vmax would be the height of stubborn churlishness.  Cough.

Surviving an asteroid strike?

Surely, and I could be wrong here, but if a moderately sized asteroid haphazardly punches a hole slap bang in-between, let's say paternoster square & paternoster row in london, then no matter how much invested in anything, will actually do anything but momentarily (micro or nano second-ish) slow your transformation from relatively dense combined atoms into their bright & vaporised disparate counterparts.  

Rest easy, as the same sort of thing would already have happened a few micro or nano-seconds earlier, to those unfortunate enough to be within the strike zone of any incoming hurtling heavenly body - so why worry?  

For those in London and the south east, deciding where to go if our fair, gentle, slopping sectioned part of the country were unfortunate enough to be in imminent danger of being wiped off the map (by a 200m asteroid), would have to consider making plans to journey at least 100 miles away and somewhere in a ditch, before coming close to having  a 51% chance of survival; with the added hardship of many degree burns, loss of mobile signals and nothing handy in the nearest tesco metro.  

The choice, therefore, is simple: voluntarily head to coventry, or be wiped off the face of the planet, or spending thousands or millions, and briefly cocking two-fingers at every one else and laughing as they're being vaporised, before you to end up in the smoke cloud.

Coventry, wiped off the map, disapprobation?  Coventry...

Little clips

Having re-discovered (worked out how to use scribefire), i'm finding my tendency to utter has taken on a new leash.  

So mind the mistakes, as they'll more reflect a piece i've heatedly glanced through, missed most major points of and come to a conclusion devoid of the time honoured necessity of 'allowing to ripen', before regurgitating a couched nuanced and off-field, far far off-field, riposte!

Drawing near

With the passing of the 5th of September and only three and a bit months to go before another festive period of "thank the stars, finally some quiet," to look forward to, thoughts of partying and madcap revelry knock-up against the void, waiting to make their appearance. 

Fowl and gushing, what a way to go!

Streamlining

The problem with keeping records, is records really aren't meant to be kept - if you're a large organisation in charge of thousands of buses and hundreds of bus stands or terminus's that is.  

Indeed - as someone said to me "don't you think it odd that they don't know or say they don't know, how many complaints each stand or terminus actually receives?"

"Odd," I replied. "Hardly.  We are, after all, viewed as the twilight section of the community!  Now, if they were really interested they would have started off by managing to spell your name correctly!"

Balance

As the saying goes, "strike hard, strike fast, and keep them off balance."

Replacing bus drivers?

 

Hurray, by 2030 bus drivers will be replaced by robots, oh happy day - can't it be tomorrow?

Of course, such happy joy would soon be eclipsed when some coronal mass ejection screws with the magnetic field, or a bored hacker mangles their programming, sending them into a murderous frenzy: running buses, into each other, or into bridges, or turning them into rude, obnoxious high on crack dangers to passengers, or even making them incapable of switching off their engines whilst stationary at bus terminus's/stands-... ah right, no change then!

 

So much crap

"You stand accused of communicating false information!"

Happy carnivore

The nicely understated flowers for a plant that would sooner eat you and spit you out than provide a source of wonderment, are finally coming into their own.

In light of that, here are this weeks pics, and i’m hoping that despite feeding it nothing more than the hardest 24-hour aerated tap water, it will not only continue to profusely flower but also go on to produce a number of hardy offspring!

   

Sadly the camera on my sturdy phone’s starting to show it’s age, with colours wandering all over the spectrum – can’t complain; the phone, an elderly K750i, has provided over six years of good and faithful service.

Turgidity report - Q3

Brimming

Oh i’m brimming.

Yes, despite being the grim-reaper for over half a dozen bonsai to date – although cuttings have strangely happily prospered; whether back into bonsai sized pretty lush green dazzling bushery or huge semi-bonsai things that have sensed escape from their confines and are making a dash for it!

Despite the initial ‘plant it and kill it’ syndrome my attempts seemed wantonly to emulate; the mad impulse which refused to dissipate finally had its way, especially when fully-covered strips of genocidal flypapers continuously assaulted my ever waking vision, leading  me wondering how much more environmentally friendly it would be if a growing bit of flora was enjoying all of those annoying mega-multiplying flies.

Step forward sundew and a friend on the 52^nd parallel, who cordially assisted by buying and carting one all the way down to me, in an attempt to nurture and have something semi-exotic survive.

Cut now to two (or maybe even three) months down the line, and not only is the sundew alive it is positively bursting out of the pot and on the cusp of doing something i never thought it would – especially after undergoing the water-boarding treatment of london tap water (water that has been boiled and left to air for 24 hours), it might actually flower – or seed. 

The amount of light reflected from the usually closed blackout curtains, combined with the overabundance of multiplying small flies, seems to have provided it with more than enough nutrients, light and fortitude so helping it to thrive.

I will have to see whether it survives the winter and three months of 13^oC night-time – 15^oC day-time average temperatures.

Stockwell Park estate burn out

As a fire breaks out on the Stockwell Park estate bike   shed, lock up/garage, hardy skateboards bravely struggle on…

 

Football 2010?

Yay, holiday!

Quips

Now that my quip's semi full...

What shall i blunder through next?...

• Mr dimbleby afraid of plymouth...
• Lambeth council condones torture...
• Oil spills...
• The third night..
• Hatred & bile...

"Buses - Noise Issues with 242 Bus, from Hackney

A resident of powerscroft road asked whether the extension of the 308 bus route will effect the workings of the 242 as that bus is already causing lots of noise pollution in the area due to squealing brakes etc. The questioner also asked whether the current model of bus on the 242 route could not replaced with a single decker.

In reply steve said that tfl has taken up the brakes issue with arriva and again agreed to feedback to tfl resident’s concerns re: noise."

That was 2003/4.

Seven years later, you would have thought a capital-wide improvement would have launched, finally put this thing out of its misery. Sadly not.

But how have things improved?

1. Increase frequency of buses utilising terminus's.
2. Increase in driver pay.

How have things worsened for residential victims?

1. Increasing frequency of drivers not switching off their engines whilst stationary (multiplied by many hundreds per day)
2. Increase in frequency of drivers using their horn to say hello, say goodbye.
3. Increase in squealing brakes.
4. Increase in pollution due to (see 1).
5. Increase in vibration (severe, see 1).
6. Increase in drivers two-fingers to anything said by customer services, the bus garage, their operators, rule 124 of the highway code, their training...

... this could go on, but lunch is calling.

Happy what?

Happy days wonderfully lasted for all of 8,100 seconds, approximately.

Oh the cupidity...

...of voltage pictures and 21st century copyright.

How many people out there in the big, bad, brooding, backwater of the interwebs watch a film they may have inadvertently downloaded, or being given a film and then gone:

1. fantastic, will go and see it at the cinema,
2. fantastic, will buy the optical media,
3. will rave about it to friends, then do (1) & (2)
4. glad didn't go to the cinema otherwise i'd be demanding my money back,
5. glad i didn't rent it out, otherwise i'd be demanding my money back.
6. rave about it to friends, that it's like having your eyes injected with the black-death, limbs gnawed off by rats and slowly being immersed into a weak but powerful enough alkaline solution which dissolves all your organic tissue.

If more people did (4)-(6) then maybe those companies and sharks would think twice about trying to gouge as much as they can, whilst stuffing tame lawmakers into their pockets and setting them onto their consumers.

But, think of it as buying a car for £9,000, without driving in it, nor trying it out, nor looking at it from all the angles.  You bought it basically after seeing a 30 second advert and an actor saying how wonderful it was.

Renting a car for one day can cost as little as £25 approximately - from hertz.  Buying that brand new spanking car, that you want let's say about £9,000 giving us a rent to purchase thingy, of roughly a third of one percent.

If we apply that particular percentage to the cost of buying a newly released film (dvd not bluray) at £15 - say, then in a non-gouging world the rental really cost no more than 4.1 pence (if my dodgy maths are correct). 

It might work, if the shark (sorry bank) charges issue were sorted out, it would probably cut piracy down to a pittance, without alienating the very people who may or may not wish to see the wares you have on offer; the probability exists that more people would more than likely be happy to rent even the worst created film, and probably rent films they would never ever have wasted a percentage of their hard earned money over, if it cost 4.1pence, or US$ 0.059122 as at 16:57hrs on the 8th June 2010 say, ever.

Claiming it's decimating an industry that has over the past few years produced more $200mn+ hoovers than ever before, is like a lamb looking at an approaching wolf calmly saying that it 'really is a sheep', whilst tucking into the lambs mothers ribs, it's just slaughtered.

What these companies should realise is they now have an audience really numbering in the millions (as opposed to millions of pirates), all willing but more importantly able (until everything we do is automatically vetted before uploading to the net), to wax or carp lyrical about everything and anything. 

About thyme

A friend firkled me out of my hermit-hole to brave the world outside 18 walls.

I'd forgotten what it was like, seeing how much that part of town (victoria/pimlico) had changed. Saddening to see the arrogance, the absence of empathy, to see subtle yet pervasive fear in an area that had blossomed into glittery brightness after so many years as a desolate wasteland - to become, as my friend sadly intoned, "snooty."

But what, about thyme?

The menu was modicumly expensive, after ten minutes of sitting down, half the downstairs clientèle paid and left - perhaps due to the sudden influx of raff or perhaps nothing more than a happy switch-over of customers, but any fear was dispelled as the waiters and maître d’ were fantastic, smoothly polished in their delivery, execution, and best of all non-rushy - which is always a sublime experience when everything blends without a hitch.

The rosé wine looked lost, nestled as it was forlornly at the bottom of a 330ml glass; which set thoughts scrambling as to whether i'd need to pop into a chippy on the way home or have a bar of something chocolatey to savour the feeling of fullness. Those thoughts were soon forgiven and banished upon the arrival of a shared starter, the tabla iberica comprising of: ham, chorizo, lomo & salchichon, combinations which only bettered my ageing chompers once, as each soft silkily smooth slice, happily complemented the black olive bread, with each bite gently caressing the structures of my tongue, before punting southwards. Next, i plumped for pan fried calves liver served with smoked pancetta and creamed mash, which was surprisingly even more deliciously soft, textured and meltingly tasty; indeed, each bite cried out for its own choral symphony - by far one of the best offerings i've been delighted to consume in many a year - being a hermit does have its impact. My friend inhaled the barbary duck's breast, potato rosti, braised red cabbage and red currant jus, which too rated as excellent, on the mouthwatering melt-scale.

So if you haven't yet experienced, nor worried about taking out a fifth mortgage, then about thyme should be on your visiting schedule. Strangely, well worth it.

Knibbles

lhd4rht - shake that leg.

Happy days?

It has been a while since the area experienced (relative) tranquillity. 

Over the past three days along with less squeaks from buses brakes, no all day practising from br² even the relative quietness of the night time gig allowed me to have windows open a notch, the odd boy racer (perhaps the rest have found a ditch), less bus horns, less screaming neighbours; and despite this possibly coming across as living in a hell hole, it's not, i haven't heard a police helicopter fly over for at least a day or two; but, it has been three perhaps four even (who's keeping score), gorgeous days with lovely blue skies, few circulating planes - well at least no ever-present steam-trails, which forces me to say (with hand on cold lumpen casket of lead) that living here feels, nice-ish.

This light-hearted air of tranquil-joviality has even extended to, only slightly mind, wishing for the odd bus driver who continues to keep their vehicle engines running whilst stationary at the terminus sending out wave upon wave of bone jarring low frequency vibrations, or mildly beeping his or her  (yes i know who they are) bus horn, to end up in a ditch, naturally without passengers onboard.  Unless, that is, the passengers are of the same ilk as the driver; which should be interpreted as a far happier and milder thought, than the 'string them up by the giblets until they're blackened and maggot infested', which periodically try's to prance its way across my vision. 

In the meantime, my drosera capensis is happily growing despite facing stiff competition from highly effective fly papers, chemical infused tap water, and is thriving in its north facing window, catching and partially consuming a fair portion of flies.

Hopefully, it will survive for a few more months, make it through the winter and seed one day; or be divided and strategically placed in other rooms come the spring of 2011/12 once it's matured; by which time i'd have discovered a reliable gardening establishment, so avoiding the nasty reclaimed 'multi-purpose compost' that seemed to have been scrapped from the sludge off a building site and has seemingly progressed on killing or severely crimping everything planted in it.

In the meantime, here's a picture of the carnivorous triffid, doing its best to redress the flying bug population.  Just need it a bigger bus sized...

Of course it's still early, and there are many hours for things to go pear-shaped.  Which reminds, where have i left my quip carrier? ...

One day, we'll wake up

Technology (that bridling beast, laconically thrashing before breaking loose from its  maddened masters maws, and devouring everything planet-side), was supposedly enabling the groundwork for massive improvement in the lives of inhabitants within advancing 21st century nations: increased leisure times, moments for citizens to think and ponder - which it does for those clever enough, lucky enough, hard-working to be successful enough, or inherited enough; however, each year a substantive population are forced into heedless servitude, forced to work harder to produce more, forced to work longer for less: to bolster the artificial economic reality, as they work competing with those elsewhere who have to work longer, for slightly more so they can compete with... whilst those nibbling away at the edges, wonder exactly what to do with those many figure bank balance assets - whilst hundreds of millions around the world starve, or die, from preventable diseases.

Time and major catastrophe permitting, the laconically padding surly beast will cure our ills; but the current road'll ensure those who can't afford it (law of the jungle/the market - take your pick) will fall by the wayside, leaving those who can (first paragraph provisions permitting) working harder each year to pay for it, or briefly bypassing introduced regulatory hurdles stopping the manufacturing of nothing, wrapping it in nothing and promulgating it as first class investments, as another artificial construct means you take home less than you did the year before, and more of what you buy is just that little bit more expensive than the month before, (unless you live in a hyper-inflating construct, then every second's more expensive) until something's tweaked stopping people realising they're playing with loaded dice, suddenly noticing every-thing's really nought, except a pile of doings.

Until that day, happy snoozing. 

Yay,how appropriate this is the 300th iffy post of tripe, just need to flick through those brochures for something nice and new and shi- oh dear, computer says no.

Hey there mr/miss/ms royal-mail person

When did royal mail counters turn into a hybridisation cloning programme between estate agents and used car salesmen?

It has been a while, since i felt the cold dark northerly winds tousling my hair upon entering the cullis’d gates of ‘mail of royal’. Well it would have being had i popped in and had to queue; but there wasn’t a queue, however it did feel oldie-worldly having to fill in an application form and send it through the post. 

So it would have remained and i would have left with a quaint and fuzzy warmness; instead it just had to go and take a running leap over the cliff and plummet into the chasm of the disturbed hope.

Seemingly, we can do everything electronically and online (not long soon before birth and death themselves are conquered); but i remembered a time when you could pop into your post office, simply state that you required a letter recorded or delivered, paid your money and be more or less certain it would be delivered and a signature obtained.

Rose tints? Always, for the good old days.

Yesterday i popped in asked that good old question, to be greeted with a, "it's not secure you know.  If you want to make sure it reaches its destination you should send it special or registered,"

"What?"

"Recorded will just get a signature at the other end, but it might not get there!"

I briefly wondered if this was an opening salvo across the bows, but took the perverse view of ‘meh’, and if it failed to reach the other end, would give me something else to quip over, as my quip carrier’s running low again.

"How much is special delivery?"  I thought it best to enquire.

"£5.50," the royal-mail person came back, quick as a flash.

"Ok. No, i'll stick with recorded," i smiled, flashing a toothy plug grin in return.

The look of disappointment on the royal-mail face was palpable.  But before the upper lip could twitch, a cog on the other side turned. "Do you have savings?"

"Pardon," i asked, wondering when i'd walked into a sales upgrade convention.

"We do safe and secure savings."

And no i didn't enquire as to what was actually meant, not so soon after serious doubt had already been placed on the likelihood of my special, but cheaply sent letter, reaching its final destination; due to potential hijacking, kidnapping or pilfering by one of the royal-mail persons mobile colleagues. 

Instead i bit my tongue, "thanks, but i already have savings. My money’s safely locked away,” – all $2.85c of it.

"Ok,” the royal-mail person disappointedly intoned, “just remember that we're always here."

That i will, and luckily so is another the branch where if you get looked at (let alone grunted to) and come out unscathed, can be viewed as damned good service, and it’s only a nice walk down... ah yes, knife pin alley!

Let’s see now; corporate drone, knife pin alley, corporate drone, knife pin al-

addendum: couple of days later… letter arrived safe and sound and unscathed.

Warmer energy times ahead

Are energy companies turning coquettishly coy and dangling tantalising cuts just around the corner - as they've done so well, and trading market's really are working?

Nothing to do then with the new government announcing a push towards better efficiencies as a way of curbing the rise of energy usage & prices, with a love for all things renewable energy bill, and raising the spectre of closer investigation into the energy co's affair...

I believe there's applause there somewhere, but the avalanching haystack appears to have covered it.

Out with bad old energy, in with good clean stuff!

Knobbles

It started saying, "left hand, right hand, watch those legs!"

BA²

One observational swallow does not indicate a good summer; but it can (where's that hedge trimmer) indicate change!

Last night (saturday) i wondered whether this mythical swallow had made an appearance?  I was actually able to sleep, without being bounced around or woken up; perhaps a sign of the end to the may madness which struck the venue earlier in the month, or simply an indication that things are finally improving and they might have installed sound-proofing or a limiter.

Yes, it's another one of those three-nights-in-a-row, 'hey guys we're open till 4am.  Neighbours?  We see no neighbours? Yippiee, a freebie' events occurring less than a stones throw, skip and a jump away, at the venue.

Before i crashed at 1am saturday morning, there were moments when the sound would cycle through those deep bass pulsating peaks and troughs – just the sort of thing you should be playing in a field hundreds of metres from people who live there and, not 28ft from residents and certainly not until 1am let alone 4am on a morning. 

The music was audible, with beats and individual notes easily distinguishable more than 200ft away.  Even the bits of environmental law i’ve read (that stays floating around chasing after tumbleweeds), indicates that if individual notes can be heard (i just didn’t realise there was a clause saying heard from the moon, which must be the location lambeth’s using to gauge whether they should do anything), then it’s loud – especially if its penetrating through shut double-glazed windows/doors and earplugs at 2,3,4,5,6am in the morning.

So what's it like here? 

Who said hell? … Ah, the escapees!

Here's a quick rundown on living here with a, more or less, out of control nightclub on the one hand, bus drivers who seem to have lost the ability to switch off their engines when stationary for more than 2 minutes at at a time - think 9 tons of bus-rumbling vibrations through all your rooms, then multiply that by 100’s of terminations per day, on the other.  But a rundown would take far too long, so the fun happenings and goings on since 1930s to the present day, will be in a lovely pdf, produced by yours truly and will probably make an appearance at the same time as when the noise-chart’s completed.  

In the meantime, a very quick rundown comprises of: earplugs, earplugs, earplugs, headphones, earplugs, earplugs, headphones playing static noise, and noise-cancelling headphones which sadly don't stop the vibrations, and earplugs.

Even the governments (“we’ve run out of money – ha haha ha”) recent noise maps are inaccurate, as they don’t take into consideration the noise generated at night by the venue.  Which when that is taken into consideration and combined with other measurements and indicators  leave this as one of noisiest and most air polluted areas in london, and that's (pollution measurements especially) official!

To date, despite numerous requests from other residents, the council seem strangely un– but i’ll leave that for another time.

Unlike the 3am trio at the start of the month, this bank holiday 4am triptych started off less noisier, but soon raced up the noise chart, with penetrating deep pulsating, bone vibrating, brain shaking bass low-notes and slightly more annoying, slightly less bass low-notes. 

So, the 2nd night?

I can sum up by saying, BA²!  For those who haven’t already guessed, it’s short for brixton academy's backside. 

Problems? What problems

We see no problems!

PR

Proof? Read?

Quite. The proof of anything is either in the eating, reading, seeing, doing or hearing over a period of tim-.

Oh, proof reading!

Yes, always viewed that as a potty-mouthed swear phrase.

We would like to thank…

At the 2010 awards for most destructive socio-environmental incident, under the category: accidental or not. 

The four nominations are…

1. the almighty for the flood – for causing the extinction of most of what was, apparently.
2. the american military – for generating millions of kilograms of hazardous, toxic and radioactive waste – all around the word.
3. bp – for way outstripping in volume alone and destroying more of the environment than any other spill - accidental or otherwise, in peace time or probably any other time.
4. union carbides bhopal disaster – with an estimated (to this day) death toll of over 15,000 with more people still, apparently, succumbing to the effects.

And the winner is…

BP.

We would first like to thank the us government for giving us this time of grace time in which we’ve stopped… teaspoon or tablespoon boys?  To not really achieve much, and so by the time they do take over, at least we can say we tried. 

We would like to thank the northern shores of the gulf states for letting the oil beach there (snigger), and for giving us this period to potentially ruin their lives and livelihoods (if they depend on anything sea-worthy) for at least a month or two.

We would like to thank both haliburton and transocean for getting us into this wheeze (thanks dick), i’m sure there’s a remittance around somewhere.

We’d like to thank all of you who haven’t yet taken it out on the directors, despite it being obvious to a tapeworm that when it really comes down to it, we really believe in the environment, after all, what’s it there for, if not polluting!

We would, once more, love to applaud the us government for allowing these practises to take place not only in their own backyard, but all around the globe.

And last, but not least, we sincerely like to thank all of you suckers out there taking it up the ass for us, yet again!

We thank you.

What is it with conservatives and children?

First many years ago the blessed margaret cut milk that was given to children attending primary schools, now her milk-tooth offspring cut the child trust fund.

More?  Did you ask for more?

Birthing who?

This is a slightly strong post for me; i presume the strength of my position arrives from been forced, whilst young, to participate in the visitation of the holy church – viewed, as it was by my parents, as necessary for “ensuring salvation of your immortal soul”; which still now leaves - after sloughing off many ideas i still find odd, contradictory and bizarre, simply watching and listening (however frothy), to those who would deny a woman such basic fundamental control over her own body, for the sake of religiosity (yet again) - an unsatisfactory familial ringing note.

Of course i fully agree with all those out there who want to stop women from having abortions. As long as you fully sign up to taking control of the ensuing offspring, financially, emotionally and, if needs be, to also physically bring up those children whom the mother may not be attached to if, for example, she has been raped, or drunk one to many and thought she had seen that non-existent condom, or even just after nine months had a change of heart.

There, that’s my ten shillings done with... Let me just clamber off my box, pack it away, and attach the label: not to be taken out before 2015!

Oh, but before i do. If you were wondering why i said “strong post,” in the opening sentence, and after reading thought, “call that strong?”  The following regurgitation is the subsumed version... “why do all you sanctimonious sons of bitches who crap on about pro-life, kill doctors, blah de blah, apparently can’t, or won’t, in any appreciable number, save the many millions of children who are orphaned, children who are sick, children who have no-one to look after them? How many of you brain-dead cretins rise up in fury at your governments who cosy up to, and practically hero worship at the altar of weapons manufacturers, who produce more weapons of mass destruction that kill more children and babies on an annual basis than any abortion doctor ever has. Actually, how many of you concerned-for-the-jelly lifers, have shaken your fists in fury at the almighty omnipresent narcissist who (if you believe he/she/it is indeed all of everything) allows the natural termination of many more millions of foetuses and babies, than any doctor or even weapons manufacturer come to that, ever has?”

So, there you have it. That was the initial angry blurb i was going to spout, before realising that calling people cretins would leave myself on not only very shaky ground, but probably no ground at all. At least it helped me decide to go with the far more rational second take instead.

Finally, before the box is safely locked away, i would probably turn a blind eye if, as in minority report (can i say minority report without it being taken as copyright infringement?), it could be proven without any shadow of a doubt, or that someone's being set up, that future boy-racer’s - with a propensity to only race around town, cause annoyance and overall general nuisance (unless heading for olympic glory) would be first for the flushing, swiftly followed by those who continually whine - life’s just too short.

BA Strike

Are you bleating about ba workers going on strike?

Think of it like this.

The first ruling: you turn up five minutes late to work and due to that misdemeanour have your entire days pay stopped by a junior manager.

The second ruling: a senior manager tells the junior manager to "stop being such an ass," and reinstates your whole days pay.

Naturally all of this is from my non-reading of any actual court documents or hearing anything more tasty than a sound bite, assessment.  Which could be so far removed from what's actually gone on, as to render this particular utterance worse than that last bit of frayed toilet paper i had to struggle with, just after the long-life bathroom light decided to blow.

Religiosity - part... sorry, lost count.

Yay, go malawi (of course this diatribe isn’t a swipe at the entire populace of malawi). 

So we see yet another example of how love really is conditional, when it comes to many of the fanatically unhinged taking matters into their own hands when something they disagree with, that no ones forcing them to participate in, or that physically affects them, or involve them in any way (apart from them sticking their noses into it) bang their breasts with pride at the meting out of 'justice'.   A jail sentence of 14 years for daring not to love who we (our society, our culture, our indoctrination) tells us, we should love.  Suppose it's better than been killed on a street in london.

It's still depressing, but not totally debilitatingly depressing: listening, watching, feeling the various ways so many are literally involuntarily brain-washed into "do the right thing!"

Perhaps someone can correct me, if i'm wrong; but, according to the dusty unabridged/watered down to suit the times tome, doesn't it say that judgement is the lords and lords alone?  Yet there we go.  A pick 'n' mix contingent flashing its barred and fanged skirt tails - with the bright light of many snuffed by the new-old same-world nonsense they're lapping up that springs from the mindswill that occupies religiosity.

Listening to those outside the courtroom in malawi, witter on about "we are christians in this country, we follow the bible." Yes just like the romans followed their whims and whimsy's and used to throw christians to the lions with happy abandon, or slave owners used passages to proffer validity for their actions - so various groups around the 'paper's-please'  globe continue the task of persecuting those who are different or don't believe their particular brand of electron scouring.

The one priceless bit of spouted logic which sputtered across the airwaves said "if you marry each other, who will marry us?"  If that's your logic madam, hopefully no-one.  The species  needs a better gene pool. 

After all… fuck turning that other cheek, where's my uzi? ... Uzi!  ... Are we still using uzi's, or have we moved on?

Wee test

Last night, no the night before, i was tapping away and imbibing a little dry with my dinner: oven baked fish with steamed potatoes, whilst sitting down to listen to a podcast .

As player of choice, I use VLC – the main reason, I can change the speed up to 4x. 

Track to slow? I can speed it to a level that fits my listen/assimilate ratio.  Prior to the alcoholic imbibing i had vlc at 1.28x, but paused the track as i was on the phone and subconsciously imbibing even more.  After finishing the conversation I resumed the track and had to increase the speed to 1.7x to attain the same listen/assimilate feeling ratio.

So a quick, non-scientific, brain-was-working test, indicates that the perception of time does indeed speed up when your pissed - well mine does anyho.

Wonder how long before the loosing sense of time kicks in and everything?

Synthetic life

On hearing that synthetic life has been created and a new dawn expectantly flashing it's peepers over the horizon, it was depressing to read that as far as the creator's (dr. venter) concerned, it will usher in a brave new industrial revolutionary world.

So basically, more of what we've had since the last brave industrial dawn but more tetchy; which entails the same proportionate number of people on the bottom living like crap, those in the middle bobbing up and down, and the creamers on the pinnacle.

Yay. Oh joy of trickle down joy!

I can just see people bringing out the tambourines, as they realise they won't have to work 50+ hours a week, as an ever increasing quantity of production's done by increasingly advanced bots. Oh wait, that was just a science fantasy in the 60's; in the real world people will be laid off as more work's undertaken by fewer people, as that's just the way the system (if we take the last 2000+ years of precedence) has been tweaked as normal.

When dr. venter says "they could help wean us off oil and reverse some of the damage to the environment by capturing carbon dioxide." Will that be everyone, or just those who can pay with the rest using the same old crap?

What? Rubbish?

Just look around, just look around.

I do believe it goes something like… “i bow down before our new artificial synlords.”

Apple

Dim and distant future…

“Here we are at an apple altar.  You’ll first notice the pair of apple shaped handcuffs - which were, according to historians, used by the faithful who believed they were possessed of a grandiose technologically aesthetically pleasing product; thus inferring a status of awehood.  Naturally  wildly overblown, but during the dark days of blue screens of death and the dark empire, this was one product which miraculously seemed to seamlessly work and work well and was viewed by many as the way forward.  Right, any questions?”

“Is it true they didn’t use solar-cell-motion energy or even replaceable batteries? …  Was it the beginning of the end of the oceans? …   What were the handcuffs for?”

“Well the last question is the easiest to answer; people purchased them, put them on when using the hardware, and waited for instructions from on high!”

Gag ball- sorry tar balls

So balls of tar reach a coastline, not far from where a million litre gusher’s happily gushing; and the coast guard says “the source of the tar balls remains unknown at this time,”  which i suppose is good to know that at least exhaustive tests have finally been carried out.

I’d like to suggest the tar balls are actually future tar balls, from future antartican drilling, and have just popped back a couple of years too soon; to help us get to grips with another strata of oceanic pollution, along with the dead zones, plastic zones, hormone replacement zones, as a possibility. 

Light, in paradise

Just another day in paradise, although technically, this is occurring over stockwell, so that counts as hell.

I’m in a humorous mood, must be the extra inhalation of diesel fumes or the energy from next door.

Light

The new dawning

“They died slumped over a keyboard,
they died happy.
Idioms of a new age;
bash, bash, bash...
privacy for the badger!”

Fun?

Hold on, need to find a dictionary…

Blergh!

So obama comes down on the: don’t take the nutters on the web too seriously as there’s a lot of them out there spouting a lot of nonsense, which is just, well, nonsense!

Very true.

But lest we forget governments and official bodies, aren’t exactly renowned for their virgin whiteness and full halooutwiththetruth first-time rings.  Hand on heart all those who believe governments tell everything warts and all?  Indeed, we’re constantly not told things as there’s a belief that if we knew what was going on, all our heads would explode all in one go, or the vast majority would turn on them for holding onto so much for so long.  Instead we’re told that we’re not told for our own good, or the good of national security, or someone else’s good security, or for the benefit of someones over-swelling bank balance; or just in case a group of terrorists decide to swim up the thames, scale the thames barrier and plant slow-release h1n-something that decimates the entire population of the planet.

Sceptical?  You betcha, but open with it and always up for being proved wrong.

There are times when odd thoughts stray across my visual horizon, like when the fringe of any fundamental belief system undertakes thousands of suicide bombings against their own & other perceived enemies, do they really think “yippie, people will come flocking to us and we’ll show them”; or is it someone (dark and sinister) whispering a bit of nonsense in their ear, which they latched onto, which culminates in their demise, after all how much murder mayhem ministrations can people take, even if things are supposedly done for their benefit and all their lobes have been removed?

So the world turns and new things come along to keep everyone on their toes, never a moment to think, except for their hope it will be better in their child's or grandchild's lifetime, something which if we go back through annals of history seems to be just as old a hope as those looking for a good time involving someone from the oldest profession.

If you ask the vast majority of the globes population, whether they want to invade ‘x’, have war against ‘y’ they’ll probably ask ‘why’ and then go ‘hell-no,’ (probably one of the few times i’ll wholeheartedly agree with something said by one of those who rudely twinge the underpinnings of the nutty fringe), unless they’re attacked first. 

Even those who are suffering privations, generally don’t want war, yet war we continuously have, supplied by people and industries & country’s that have outsourced their arguments to those areas far (in the past at any rate) removed from the immediate outraged eye of their own citizens. 

How can they do that? What would they have to gain? When was the last time you saw a world beating major international weapons manufacturer producing the latest and greatest, in let’s say somalia?  The only thing coming from there now is a brief run on bottles of rum, and even that’s now being ransacked.

So why are we always suckered into it, when in the majority of cases these operations are run by people who have never been in war, never had first hand experience of war, who don’t have off-spring in war and if you said front-line would think first of the riots that occurred many decades ago wherever their nearest riot prone place happened to be, i.e., brixton.

It should be mandatory that if you want to call a war you need to have front-line experience, have lost colleagues and friends and experienced the bloodiness, the futility and the loss that war encompasses, unless of course the adversary is someone like hitler where strangely even that regime was funded by the same bankers who funded the other lots efforts - for many years; unless it was a war like that – and with proof – then it would be a no-go, not happening, not this time around, no way, whose name?

But what does this wandering have to do with the wild out-there theories and the net?  Well, it just seems that with various laws already passed enabling governments to pull the plug ‘in an emergency’ on the wildnet, the new copyright law attacks by media congloms and governments in secret, how long will it be, before the internet is just another version of terrestrial/satellite tv, where every click of the mouse produces more or less the same sanitised and censored guff, all the way up to an ‘approved for’ stamp on the porn channel.

At least with the current situation, we know there are those out there who would love to have their own section of the species as the only things inhabiting the planet, to those who believe people live in pebbles on the beach; whatever it is, whatever the belief, at least it can be found, people can see, people can judge, people can even participate; how much more beneficial is that than the sideshows they keep on pointing our attention to, when they could really use current laws to curb, but instead want more laws to simply neuter it.  Unless that is, they’re making millions, billions, trillions out of it.

Basically then, if it’s fun fun fun, you can watch it to your hearts content, go to sleep, work, enjoy some leisure time, procreate and bring up the next einstein or eye-out-tearaway, drool, and watch more fun fun fun, until the next terror-outing/calamity pops along to shake things up.

Fun? Happy watching.

Stopping Smoking Anniversary

Hurrah?

The one year anniversary of quitting smoking (apart from one stressed out, abortive, puff and gag attempt around the latter part of 2009), arrived and passed two months ago today, and i’m still waiting to see/feel the benefits.

Since cold-turkey-ing, my skin now alternates between shades of grey and full colour, but that's probably more to do with my "vampiric" lifestyle (i.e. simply keeping out of the sunlight and not actually claiming to be “one of the night”), but  more likely it’s the 24/7 belching pollution that permeates this triangular patch of loveliness.

But for those that experience the quitting process, you know when (after abortive attempts) you have properly quit, as you don’t have that rabid and immediate ex-smoker response when someone around your does light up – karmic peace.  Indeed, when friends complain about smokers, i instantly poo-poo their negativity (see i can be positive and upbeat) and jump to the smokers defence. 

If people cared or knew that much about the harm particles were doing they would be more vociferous in wanting a cut in vehicle emissions (did someone say bloody buses?), and a hiking of tax onto air-travel.

I might disagree with what your spouting and actions your taking, but if your actions don’t harm another (without their mutual consent), or encourage the unaware to harm others, then off you pop;  in the meantime, go vitamin d deficiency!

Blatant lies of TfL, it can't be?

The following was the heading of a document in response to a public consultation about a new route number 324:

"Response to issues raised in public consultation for new route
324"

And tucked away in the document is this little gem.

“Noise, pollution and damage to buildings
We do not believe that the proposals will cause significant overall changes to traffic levels, noise, vibration or pollution. Overall, a well-used bus network will have a beneficial effect on the environment by providing an effective alternative to car use. All buses operating on TfL services comply with or exceed the latest European emissions standards. We will use new buses with modern engines on route 324.”

Not cause significant changes?

Hm, having your skull vibrate like a tuning fork  must be normal, wonder why I never noticed that before.  Or not been able to open a window for fear of 20 hours of breathing in belched out bus fumes'; hmm noise, always keen on having a bus driver use their horn 50 times a day – just when you’re trying to concentrate, just so they can say hello or goodbye to colleagues.  Residents? I see no residents.

Since the termini was plumped here we have been subject to practically 20+hours of vibration, pollution, and noise as drivers (enough to seriously make it noticeable) do not bother switching off their engines - despite continual re-assurances by TfL.

So beware.

If TfL want to put a stand in your area, be prepared, for regardless of what they say, due to driver action what you will end up with will be many times worse.

Hm, gambling the fortune.

Sadly, still nothing concrete on the who’ll be holding the talking stick front, but it looks as though nick will eventually cosy up with david, and all that will happen is the lib-dems will be made to look incompetent, another election will be held in the autumn, and the conservatives will emerge triumphant.

And back to boom then bust, then riots in the streets.

However, if we look back to the last conservative administration, they did perfect the art of selling the family silver (better than brown at flogging  gold), so now they could have the perfect opportunity to go the whole hog and gamble with what's left of the family fortune... 'a' roads, ' b' roads, the unemployed (as a job-lot they must be worth a pound or two), flog the hospitals to the largest health providers, whilst in the ‘cutting cost for the public good’ bring in the american system of healthcare - every man/woman for themselves (with usa health companies who must be on the look out for pastures new to grow their caring considerate health sca- sorry schemes); or, the conservatives could really push the boat out and privatise the electoral system. 

No doubt if it was turned over to the market, just imagine how efficient and productive it would be?

Congratulations to the ferndale labour team for their re-election to office.

Lecture day

Posit?

Positing?

Positioning?

Vote.... vote, vote. Vote...  Vote vote vote vote.

What?  Oh not again!

Forgotten

In the sleepless nights of yore, i knew there was something i’d forgotten – and it wasn’t the election after all.

Erk?

Sleep, who needs sleep?

It's for the weak, for those who need to be subjugated, for those letting the sands of time run through their han-... why's that rabbit hopping across the ceiling...

… and it’s nearly over …

What a busy start to the month this has been, which will no doubt make up for the vast desert expanse of the remainder of the month – unless something else slimes onto the moan-o-meter.

I would have loved to have a gushing report about how, on the last night of merry-making there was no reasonableness and they played louder than ever. 

Actually, for a brief smidgeon of time, it appeared as though they were going to show a semblance and nod to the fact that residents exist.   And until 00:34hrs it seemed to be the case.

Then it hit 00:35hrs and up the levels went.

So I will stick withy my nothing, nada, nought, zilch consideration shown towards resident, shall though call the council but won’t bother asking for anyone to turn up, because by time they do, the volume will be back down again.

Now, where’s my little wheel…

What?

Not another ‘they were so scared out of their wits they couldn’t remember how to park properly in time square (although not sure what the parking restrictions are so could be wittering nonsense), nor mix the correct densities of explosives, nor probably remember that more than one sugar is overkill in a porcelain cup of tea!’

It’s good that no-one was hurt and there was no fireball; but, really.

Three-nil?…

Yes, the third night of “nightmare at may mass” is nearly over – queue gushing fountains of blood, screams, creaking undergrowth and a spooky tumbleweed bounding down the street.

So let’s take a spin of the new “wheel of misfortune” to see exactly where our focus lands, before delving into the entrails of the nights dystrophic twilight episode…

… never know, it as after all 22:39hrs and might be proved wrong; but the increasing frequency and loudness of the thud, thud, thuds look likely to disprove that.

E-what?

Knew i forgot something – there’s an election on.

Well, more a continuation of the same that’s been happening for a few centuries, because regardless of who gets into power the civil servants will be the ones providing the information, the ones providing the collated data gathered from the interested industry pushers who will be munching ears over lunch, or dinner, or at the launch of a new initiative. 

Regardless of who gets in, barring some calamity that always looks as if its about to break and plunge us into headless chicken mode, we’ll continue living in an increasingly shrinking global village, regardless of whether we trade more with ‘a’ or ‘b’, we’ll still be trading with a block that has less concern about their citizen employees, or a bit more concern about their employee citizens; we’ll continue to travel (volcanoes' willing), travellers will arrive (volcanoes' willing), so what exactly will group ‘x’ do apart from tinker around the edges in an attempt to keep as many of us psychotic idiopaths occupied for as long as feasibly possible?

So with good political candor, let’s answer a different question.  What they probably won’t do (delete as appropriate) is:

• Really pip the poor – there’s not enough prison places to put all the rioters who’ll be up in arms, going french,
• Excessively pip the rich - and they’ll just snub a took and go elsewhere offering slightly less than zero tax,
• Pip the middle who’ll boot them out as quickly as they can and not talk to their off-spring whilst waiting in the halls during a break from form c’s theatre evening with parents steaming to to see the master.

So whoever gets in, some group(s) going to get it and be mightily miffed.  In light of that, perhaps it’s time to do something for the planet; for instance have a no car driving week so it can breathe more easily, or not have another species go extinct for ten years for the sake of a pair of shoes or a drawer full of shirts, where light pollution in cities’ reduced to a level you can look up and see more than a dozen stars.  Where we don’t need to buy the latest and greatest “oh it’s so shiny” every six months just out of sheer slavish bored licking, of the hand of ad-dom.

Oh, that and cameron looking like bambi startled in oncoming headlights, brown really reminding everyone of bagpuss with each passing day, and clegg just has too much of that blair tinted colgateness – and look where that ended us; means it is indeed time for a parashift.

Ah there it is.  My wonderful, friendly, green, recyclable solar-powered veg-garden in a window-box, pen.

Two noisy, one more to go!

Yes, this is part two of the three nightmares of may.

Just when, up until 23:32hrs, it was looking so promising; sadly, it just wasn’t to be.  How can I describe it? It would be akin to heathrow throwing open a third & fourth runway, both opened especially for the night time with the loudest planes they could find, with all holding patterns full, all landing slots taken and a stream of buses reaching back to the centre of london, with engines revving fit to bust all the away.

So the club could (for a while at least) keep the noise within levels that didn’t have residents tearing their hair out in frustration, the question is why they don’t do so normally, and then why the council isn’t more proactive in finding out why people are so ticked.

Up until 23.32hrs it was tolerable, then it slowly increased to at 00:30hrs now have the pulsating thud, thud, thud, thudding away, like your own private tuning rave in your front cortex, where, strangely, each thudding tune emanating from those speakers is easily recognisable – something which is part of the environmental subjective “is it loud enough, do we really have to do something?” strategy; so either someone’s left and been seen driving away or it’s been saved specifically for after midnight and beyond, and someone has looked at their watch and gone “oops, time to whack it up”.

No, the whole thing really is a nonsense, they obviously have no consideration towards their neighbours; and just in case there’s a bit of doubt - they really don’t care, they (and this is from the evidence of sitting here and experiencing the noise, the vibrations) shows that really, when all is said and done, they have none, nada, zilch, zero consideration unless it’s the front facing face that’s twice facing backwards.

Screechy! Here screechy screechy.

One has to admire london buses when it comes to bus & station signage and display methodologies, they're a world-beater.

"...signs supplied are to satisfy all relevant European and British Standards and specify precisely the methods of quality control applied in all aspects of the production process...

...the surface finish of the material shall not be punctured by visible fixings, unless no alternative exists, and the panels are to be checked for warping and twist...

...that all product design is a successful blend of economics, aesthetics and functionality with the aim to meet the needs of both customer and operational staff..."

Everything's within a nano-whisker of dimensional perfection, then we have the drivers.

When the temperature hits -5c I can understand the need for engines to be kept ticking; and in the summer, when the temperature hits 40c, for the air-conditioning (although the times in summer when the heating’s on, yet in winter strangely not working’s always a worrying mystery) to be on for them to keep cool. I do understand; and not for a solitary moment am i envisioning sulphurous flames crisping their short & curlies as they’re been devoured from the inside out, over and over and over again, by a basket full of over voracious maggots. No, not thinking anything of the sort…

What I don't understand (apart for the bloody-mindedness part) is why they sit at the stand/terminal with their engines on (despite immaculate signage saying "switch off your engines whilst stationary at the stand", not for 5, or 15 or 30 seconds. But 3, 5, 10, even 20 minutes belching out pollution, and radiating mind jarring low frequency emissions; that is, when they’re not screeching the brakes or tooting horns 16 times per go.

What's that you say?

A dog with a bit between its teeth?

How dare you call bus-drivers dogs, I won't be having any of it. They're earning a living like everyone else, and some of my best friends are bus drivers… but perhaps they're right too, and some do need more training.

Yea

Happy May day!

Picky about noise?

As international noise awareness week ends with the screeching start of a three night 3am ending “rave”, does having to wear ear plugs and headphones behind firmly closed double-glazed windows & doors, and still experiencing the thud, thud, thud reverberating through the cranium - classify the noise and frequencies as being too loud and a nuisance?

Or am i just one of those too sensitive and picky souls, and am actually tossing and turning at this very moment; dreaming that i’m living in a twilight borough, where a church can get hauled to court for playing drums too loudly during the day and is viewed as a greater assault  on the strictures of noise pollution than a club playing deep bass thudding tones that keeps its residential neighbours involuntarily bouncing into the early hours of the day?

What’s that? It’s not a dream?  Oh right, its the never-ending nightmare.

Effing beeps

Stuck in a hole, 
with holes on dryers, 
being eaten alive by moulding damp flies;
with the whistle of engines,
twisting blown cochlea's,
a few notches down,
from a killing spree line.

"But, ne'r mind,"
says the streak of red viscous rust, 
so closely matched,
to gaping wide throats - 
that bubble in bile - 
as the whistle of engines,
and holes on dryers,
convert havens
into tranquil beeps...

Noise Day

International Noise Day is here, and the peace lasted… 2 seconds or was that 1.956 seconds; will have to check, just to make sure.

In the meantime here’s a wee graphic thingy, a pdf clickable one is somewhere…

Int. Noise. Week

Yea.

Happy international noise awareness, abatement wee- hold on, let me just tuck these ear-plugs in a bit closer; cut out the din from the buses and racers.

Yes indeed. Happy noise week, and in keeping with the theme, what better way of placing my brass-tacks and taking part than by providing my own little collaborative snapshot of various past and present goings on affecting this little patch of diesel stained, vibrational flattened, noise challenged greenery.

Which will be up and proud and celebrating for the day itself, once its looking more presentable, than it does now.

Archie Bronson Outfit

After a brief wee sojourn into other places, I had the greatest pleasure in meeting a member of the aforementioned band – not only that but also listening (for the first time) to a copy of their latest album coconut.

What can I say apart from it’s exceptionally brilliant. 

Haven’t yet watched the dvd that came with it, but from the cd my favourite track is, without any doubt or bluster, sharks tooth – so much a favourite it took me two weeks before I stopped catching myself absently humming that addictively catchy tune, closely (nano-sliced atom closely) followed by strawberries.

So for those who have never heard them, head off over to their website and enjoy a return to the days of thoughtful, inspiring music. 

Well worth it.

Mirrored muse

“I want you dead, because you are not me.

I want you dead, because you are an atheist/christian/buddhist/hindi/jewish/muslim/agnostic piece of trash.

I want you dead because you are a communist/fascist/crypto-socialist-anarchist-capitalist.

I want you dead because you are asian/black/white/oriental/native/non-native.

I want you dead because you don't agree with me.

I want you dead because you drink tea, which is two degrees celsius too warm, and your coffee's aroma reminds me of bees.

I want you dead because you eat meat.

I want you dead because you don't eat meat.

I want you dead because you are killing your unborn child, that was forced on you without your consent.

I want you dead because you forced me to bring this child into the world.

I want you dead for only giving me boys/girls/disabled/non-disabled children.

I want you dead because the voices in my head tell me to.

I you dead because I have been ordered to kill you.

I want you dead because you are of a different...

tribe,

country,

species,

sex.

I want you dead because that will make me rich.

I want you dead, so my descendants can dance over your grave.

I want you dead, because you are me.”

Crime

“Worried about crime?

Worried about walking and viewing the causes of crime?

In fear of your life or just people that you’ll meet,

confronting the hooks and lies?

Swapping spies.

Never fear, it’s a toasty, wet, spicy slice,

of juicy full-fat life.

St. George has slain the dragon of crime.”

Chestnuts — the return.

Strangely, i was surprised by the seedlings which last year looked as if they were peering over deaths door (from the seemingly unstoppable march of the numerous diseases to afflict the species), that have now (hopefully due to the 30 year record cold-snap) sprung back into vigorous, robust and excitable (if stressed) life; whilst still occupying the same sized terracotta pot as last year.

If anything, it's probably going to be the lack of space which finishes most of them off, as they're already taller than the depth of the pot, plus the other plant that took up residence (courtesy of the higher floors) is a heavy water addict, meaning that something will eventually have to give.  I just hope it’s the pot.

In the meantime here's a pic of the the semi-happy octo-sharers…

… and a link to how they looked last year (notice the distance of the camera from the lens)

It was a lovely cloud free day

If only europe had weighed in and helped iceland during its crisis the volcano wouldn't have spluttered into a rage and winds would have blown the nasty stuff westwards depositing it into the well deserved laps of wall street, if only.

Luckily it never, and instead the skies above london have enjoyed many cloud-free, contrail-free, nice and warm spring days.

Many of those held nothing but a crisp clear blueness, slightly dappled with a sprinkling hint of lolling haziness.

Oh its good to be back.

Well (and did you expect anything else) it would have been, had the buses had their filters clogged with crap and been unable to run; the boy-racers (all three of them) ended up in a ditch somewhere - instead of destroying what would otherwise have been a historic few days of peace and quite (naturally except for christmas day) in any year that I can remember since i was popped into the world.  Or is that just since i moved to the capital?

Oh well, back to the pictures.

Picture ‘a’ - with trails, picture ‘b’ without trails or even clouds.

Picture ‘a’ (at least six con trails)

Picture ‘b’; clear blue yonder

Amazing the difference a few days of clear con-free air can make.

But I suppose it will soon sadly come to an end.  Which is probably no bad thing (especially for those travelling); as if it continued it wouldn’t be too long before the bread fights, food fights, wiping one's bottom on the nearest trashy newspaper commenced, the spectre of rationing haunting the land - well haunting the poor at any rate. 

Hm, i wonder what a bit of rationing would do for my petite, slim-line, cargo-sized waist?

The vote is yes.

"It is amazing and laughable how effective the brainwashing of the vast majority of the planets bi-pedal sapient population has become; in fact, stupidly amazing.

Just give them another few years. The pendulum will have reached its moment of piquant apogee, before starting its rapid retreat to the other side and taking their civilisation with it..."

Ides

Andromeda

Source images from NASA

Puss & Boots

You are about to blow up a plane.

To kill hundreds of people in the air and possibly on the ground.

It doesn't matter whether you do it in the plain light of day, or tucked away out of sight; the end result will be the same.

But, then we have the two attempted plane bombers - who we shall call: puss & boots, if the intention was to bring the planes down, then why after flying for so long, why at the last moment do they miraculously lose their focus and turn from being martyrs of adoring waiting virgins, into a terrorist version of frank spencer?

Surely if the aim was to down a plane, wouldn't you inject your pants whilst sitting on the loo in the loo, at least you'd have minutes of peace to make numerous attempts without having those very same people you're attempting to murder trying to pummel your ineptitude into an orbit all of its own?

Remember, this is from the very people who planned the destruction of numerous iconic buildings whilst they cosseted it up thousands of miles away, in the dusty bleak wasteland of the mountainous east; managing to hijack planes and thwart the best that trillions in defence spending could offer on 9/11.

Is it me, or does each time this particular shoal manages to bob its way to the surface, it has a disturbing tendency of smelling like a trawler full of nasty old pollock?