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Recent listening.

Music plays a part in all our lives. So here's the soundtrack to my life recently.
  • Muse - Black Holes and Revelations.
  • Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Stadium Arcadium.
  • The Flaming Lips - At War with the Mystics.
  • Kasabian - Kasabian.
  • Prince - Sign 'o the Times (rehearsal sessions.)
  • Muse - Origin of symmetry.
  • Muse - Absolution.
There has, of course, been other music in my life but I'm too tired to go into details. I've just spent almost 3 hours cleaning out my mate andy's laptop of spyware/trojans/viruses only for it to run out of power when I was almost finished. My brain hurts. My eyes hurt. My arse hurts. My legs have went numb. Oh, and I've had a few joints...


Embrace the chaos...

And walk with your head held high. For you are a child of the stars...

I was pondering on life, the universe and everything last night. I got to thinking that we are beings who attempt to assert control over something which is uncontrollable. As individuals we attempt to assert our will upon the world around us.

We are guided by a sense of needing to create something which will stand the test of time without realising that all things are dust. The Pharaohs built pyramids that will be sand in 20,000 years time, the Great Wall will be crumble to nothing more than a pile of rocks and Mount Everest will be eroded by wind and water. All things are effected by entropy.

Does a soul/life force/intelligence guide us? Are we nothing but a tool for some higher force? Are we at the whims of the great magnet? Does the Grand Whazoo watch out for us or are we alone? Who knows... Not me that's for damn sure Sparky. If I knew the answer to this, trust me, I'd share it in a heartbeat. I'm like that. Generous.

On a small side note, I just looked at the word Generous and wondered why it begins with the four letter word Gene. Maybe that's just me attempting to see through the cracks in reality and seeing something that isn't necessarily there. Anyhoo...

Should we accept that all things are outwith our control and embrace the chaos? Let go with our minds and accept the never ending moment that is the present? Will the darkness take us or does a light truly shine? Ahh, all these questions float, fly, flee and free associate in the mind.

The Process began many billions of years ago and will continue for many billions more. You and I will leave this mortal coil, suns will expand and explode, planets will come and go and there will come a day when there isn't someone called Bush driving the show. Grand dreams huh?

This weeks Desktop...

Is a picture of the TARDIS from Dr Who.

Tardis in flight

To grab a copy do the click and save thing.


I have...

In the past, derided my brother for being a Dr Who fan.

These days, I'm more mature about it. In fact, I'd like to take the opportunity to come out and admit it, I'm a huge Dr who fan. There, I said it. I feel better. It's like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I am now unburdened, free, emancipated... Etc etc etc...

And the reason for my sudden change of heart? My first joint in a week, the KLF, the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and a very powerful stereo. All of which served to open my eyes to the fact that in this day and age it's acceptable to be a Dr who Fan. Gone are the days when you had to hide your love away and not mention to your friends that every time you see a police call box you are reminded of Dr Who.

(In Edinburgh, for some reason we still have police public call boxes and whenever I see one I also wish it was a TARDIS, that the Dr was standing inside looking out and had decided that I looked like I could do with some time away from my surroundings.)

But that's the more insane side of my brain. The part of me which also wishes cartoon violence was applicable to humanity. Which may sound mad but when you consider the benefits "it's a good 'un," as an Australian would say....

Suicide bombers would no longer be a threat, as whenever a bomb blew up next to you all that would happen is you'd get blown off your feet, your hair would be a mess and you'd regenerate in a split second. If anything, suicide bombers would be hailed as entertainers.

War would also be pointless. I'd no longer have a problem with watching missile strikes blow up my fellow man because it'd be funnier than watching Tom and Jerry while tripping on LSD. Shit, the News would be great!

You and your friends could play Murder in The Dark with real weapons. From frying pans in the face to handguns, all weapons would be available. And useless. Shoot outs in the ghettos and the TV show "World's Wildest Police Videos" would be top of my list of things to watch. I'd put up with seeing Sheriff John Bunnell if it meant that when I saw the Rodney King tape I could laugh heartily, instead of wondering why humanity is anything but humane.

...But, I digress. Back to the thing in hand, Dr Who. Where was I? Oh yes, I'm a fan.

Mostly I'm a fan because it's a bit of escapeism. And where's the shame in that?

Now where did I put that long scarf and floppy hat...


Sorry to disappoint....

You all, but I have very little time to write tonight.

However please feel free to check back on Monday as I'll no doubt have some more time to dedicate to composing something insane for you all to marvel at.

Until then I remain...

Alive and in need of some kind of direction.


So says the speaker...

The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast.
The slow one now, will later be fast.
As the present now, will later be past.
The order is rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now, will later be last.
For the times they are a-changin'.
.::. Bob Dylan .::.

Indeed, the times they are a changin'. I can feel it creeping up on me with a shit-eating grin on it's face and a manic look in it's eyes...

(Please forgive me if this post has so far failed to make any sense in the conventional way. I ascribe this to the fact that sense has never been my strong point and right now I'm in a state of flux.)

Change is looming up on me like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic and although I have known of its inevitable approach I'm still slightly shocked by the rapidity at which it is coming into view and is setting about tearing, ripping, gouging and slashing into the side of my ship.

Unlike the captain of the Titanic I know the iceberg that is about to sink me... It smiles at me in my day to day life and asks me if I had a nice holiday. It laughs at jokes I make. It engages in small talk about the weather. Worst of all though, is that it pretends not to be holding a vicious looking knife behind its back which it is about to sink into the flesh between my shoulders.

So here I am at the crossroads. I can dance with the Devil or I can walk with good graces and not give it the satisfaction of being the thing that sends me over the edge into the deep, dark whirlpool.

"Bring it on." I say. Let the games begin.


Five drums and a set of pipes.

I nearly had a cerebral hemorrhage today.

I was sitting having a cigarette at the end of Princes Street listening to a Scottish band play music on the pipes and drums when a strong emotion overtook me. My heart was pounding and I began to sweat profusely. "What the fuck?" I thought. "What the hell is happening here? Have my years of abusing my body finally caught up on me?"

I closed my eyes and attempted to get my head straight. The music of the band banged in my head and I decided to use it as a grounding anchor. It did the trick. I felt my heart beat slow down and my temperature dropped to something close to normal.

I opened my eyes and scanned the crowd of people watching the band to see if anyone had noticed that I was shaking and breathing heavily like I had just run a marathon in record time. Luckily none of the observers were looking in my direction and I felt myself come back to earth.

As the band finished one tune and began on another I let my head get into the music. It was a simple band, three guys and one girl were playing various types of drums and one guy was playing the bagpipes, but I could feel the energy of this music coursing through me.

Suddenly I realized why it was that Scottish regiments are the backbone of the British army. It's because the sound of the pipes and drums being played as they walked into battle must have put the fear of God through the opposition.

I honestly think that if I was one of the opposing army and I heard the sounds of a Scottish regiment belting out a pre-battle tune I'd run like a demon in the opposite direction to which the Scottish regiment was marching. No matter if by doing so I would be hung, drawn and quartered for desertion. Being hung, drawn and quartered would be a walk in the park compared to the images that your mind would throw out if it heard the sound of the massed pipes and drums
coming over the hills in your direction.

It's no wonder that Scottish rebels against English rule had a reputation for beating the mortal piss out of the enemy. I'm against violence in general but if I was taken back in time to Bannockburn just before the battle began and I heard the pipes and drums calling me to take arms against oppression It'd only take a couple of minutes for me to become a screaming dervish hell-bent on beheading anything that wasn't wearing a kilt or had the looks of one of my countrymen.


And so...

My fortnights holiday draws to a close.

And it's probably just as well. I need to go back to work for a rest. My liver, and other internal organs, can't take much more of the punishment I have been inflicting on them over the last week or so. But it was all for a good cause... Keeping me sane. Which, I'm sure you'll all agree is something that I need to work on.

I've spent a whole months wages in less than two and a half weeks and will probably have to resort to borrowing a wee drop of the folding stuff from my dear Father in order to eat. And smoke. But on the positive side I've seen a fair amount of shows over the last week and have had enough exercise to last me for the next few months.

I've got one more day off to go and will be spending the day attempting to get my apartment looking a bit less like a bomb site. I may even tackle the pile of dishes in the kitchen, but then again, maybe not. I wouldn't recommend going into my kitchen without wearing a UN regulation biohazard suit, plus I'm not sure if I have had my inoculations against whatever could be growing in there.

It's been a long day...

For yours truly.

Well, truth be told it's not been that long a day but it has been one filled with lots of laughter and lots of walking. I've been up and down hills and in and out of venues and ticket offices with enough regularity to be considered a stalker by people involved in the festival.

I've seen three shows today and have had conversations with people from all around the world about how they are enjoying the festival. All in all the response to my questions were positive with only one or two exceptions and they were from people from Edinburgh who think that the festival is a load of shit.

Tonight I saw Dwight Slade tell his story of life with Bill Hicks, Linsay Webb in his first ever one man show at the festival and Talk of the Fest hosted by Paul Provenza with guests Glenn Wool, Jim Jeffries and an Indian comedian who's name I forget.

And now I'm off to bed as I have a sore face from laughing, a headache you wouldn't believe and sore legs from traipsing up hill and down valley.



I went to see Ian Stone perform at the Smirnoff Underbelly.

Tomorrow I'm off to see Dwight Slade in Bill and Dwight - My life with Hicks.

Sunday morning will be spent watching the Moto GP and Sunday night I'll be off into the town again to see about grabbing a ticket to see Lucy Porter before the end of the Festival.


In case you want to know...

I should probably inform you that today is my birthday.


Some call them savages...

Once a proud and noble race, the Narragansett people once numbered 2.400. (1)

Today they number 2,399.

I was standing outside the Assembly Rooms awaiting to gain entry to see Howard Marks' one man show. The sun was setting and its light was splitting the clouds. Long rays cut through the evening air and I stood staring at them. I'd had four very strong joints in the previous hour and was zoning out the noise of the queue of people around.

I stood thinking about why it was that everytime I see shafts of sunlight slicing through the cloud base I think The Grand Whazoo is about to make a grand appearance to impart sage wisdom upon me. "Perhaps it's a race memory." I thought. "It could be that way back when human beings were in their formative years they stared at the sky and began to question what caused the light to be so entrancing."

Suddenly I was jerked out of my semi-trance state by the sound of a mobile phone ringing in the pocket of a passer-by. As the passer-by passed-by one of the herd who was waiting for ingress to the same show as me made a sarcastic comment.

"Yah, ring ring, ring ring; Worst ringtone in the world." The sarcastic voice said.

My head spun and whirled as the dark voice in my head awoke. The voice spoke... "IT'S A FUCKING PHONE! ALL IT HAS TO DO IS RING! WHY HAVE A PHONE THAT BLEEPS AND WARBLES LIKE TWEEKY FROM BUCK ROGERS WHEN ALL IT HAS TO DO IS RING." It said.

I ignored the dark voice in my head and looked back into the sky. A second sarcastic voice cut through my burgeoning thoughts and chimed in. "Yaaah. Like aaahhh; Worst ringtone." It said. I dug deep and ignored the overwhelming desire to scream into the face of the two girls who were deriding a passer by because they perceived their ringtone to be uncool.

I remembered I was in a very public place, and would probably not be allowed into see the show if I suddenly snapped and bawled out a Paying Visitor to the city. I swallowed down my rage and anger and turned to read a review of Rich Hall's show in an attempt to try to filter out the conversation of the two ringtone obsessed idiots.

As I turned I caught a flash of movement out the corner of my eye. I quickly spun around just in time to see a snow leopard take a thirty foot vertical plunge onto the shoulders of one of them and chomp down on her head, accompanied by the sickening crunch of her vertebrae snapping as the snow leopards full weight landed upon her fragile frame.

I jerked wildly as I saw the leopard take off in a fraction of a second between two parked cars, dart across George Street and speed out of sight. "HOLY FUCK! Did you see the size of that animal?" I shrieked.

The faces of everyone who had witnessed the event glazed over and their heads twitched once to the left. It was as though their minds had overloaded when they saw something that couldn't be possible happen in front of their eyes and had reset to some basic programming.

I looked back to where the leopard had darted across the road. A spectral figure was standing where I had last seen the leopard. I looked at the face of the specter. It seemed familiar. I blinked twice and my memory threw up a name. John Noakes. I blinked, and opened my eyes to see that the spectral figure had vanished.

The queue began to move and I was pushed forwards with the surge. I tried desperately to see if there was any blood on the pavement but the push of the crowd swept me out of sight of the killzone and towards the door of the Assembly Rooms.

"Did you see that man? Did you? It was big fucking cat man, snapped her neck like a cocktail stick man, holy shit, this is way too much." I babbled, as I stumbled forwards.

I questioned the door staff but they claimed to have seen nothing. I think they knew something but weren't saying...

(1) According to tribal scrolls.

I'm just back from...

The Assembly Rooms where I partook in watching Howard Marks' one man show.

Yesterday I was at Fringe Sunday and went to see Dwight Slade at the Pleasance Dome.

Even though I haven't been to many shows I have been getting about the town to get the feeling of the Festival. I'll document my goings on in finer detail when I get a chance. Until then you could read my reviews of these two shows on my festival blog. They're not exactly The Times Arts Section but they should fill a couple of minutes.

I may try to see Lucy Porter or Mike Wilmot tomorrow night if I have time.


Just a quick post...

In-between doing the Festival.

This morning I was up at 10:30 and off into the Meadows to have a wander around Fringe Sunday.
Tonight I'm out to see Dwight Slade at the Pleasance Dome.

The last week...

I 'ave been mostly doing nothing.

Sleeping and lazing around has been my main priority all week. Because of this I've somewhat neglected my faithful readers. (And my not so faithful readers. You know who you are...)

I have been floating around the festival and circuiting around the city, but Covering The Story hasn't been high on my list of priorities so my little side project has been shit to say the least. But fuck it, I have all of next week off to piss around and have some fun. Tomorrow I'm off to festival Sunday to absorb some more of the sights and sounds of the festival, and on Monday I'm off to see Howard Marks' one man show.

The rest of the week I shall be spending as much time as possible at the festival enjoying the fun and frolics associated with it.


This weeks desktop.

Is a picture of Stewie from Family Guy.

This weeks desktop.

To grab a copy do the click and save thing.


When I'm bored...

And it's late, I like to say hi to various internet friends. Sometimes, however, there is no one on my messenger list to talk to and this happens...

[00:26] the_poetmaster: HEY WENCH!
[00:26] the_poetmaster: Whom I love.
[00:26] the_poetmaster: (in a platonic sense)
[00:26] the_poetmaster: Come talk to me.
[00:26] the_poetmaster: I am in need of company.
[00:27] the_poetmaster: I'm bored out my gourd.
[00:27] the_poetmaster: And if needed I'll sit here and blab on.
[00:27] the_poetmaster: Come on. Where the hell are you?
[00:28] the_poetmaster: HEY REDNECK!
[00:28] the_poetmaster: I got some chitlins for ya.
[00:28] the_poetmaster: Ok, so the redneck gag didn't get your attention.
[00:29] the_poetmaster: Now I know there's a reason you aint talking.
[00:29] the_poetmaster: Perhaps you are away.
[00:29] the_poetmaster: On a brb like the messenger says.
[00:29] the_poetmaster: But I doubt it.
[00:29] the_poetmaster: You never stray far from your pc.
[00:30] the_poetmaster: Perhaps you have popped to the mom and pop store to buy sugar candy for your spawn.
[00:31] the_poetmaster: Or could it be that you have been abducted by aliens as is so often the case in those backwood areas.
[00:31] the_poetmaster: If they want to probe you remember that it could be for the good of humanity. So close your eyes and think of the human race.
[00:31] the_poetmaster: Besides if you relax the probe slides in easier...
[00:32] the_poetmaster: God! Where the fuck are you!
[00:32] the_poetmaster: This isn't good enough you know.
[00:32] the_poetmaster: I may have to invest in another internet friend to talk to.
[00:33] the_poetmaster: Your customer service is shocking to say the least.
[00:33] the_poetmaster: I have half a mind to ask to see the manager.
[00:34] the_poetmaster: Who am I kidding? At this point I don't have half a mind, I'm having a one sided rant on instant messenger with an absent friend.
[00:35] the_poetmaster: What makes it worse is that your pic has you sitting smiling and it's doing nothing but tease me.
[00:35] the_poetmaster: "I'm here" it sleekly says.
[00:35] the_poetmaster: But; No you're not.
[00:35] the_poetmaster: WHY DO YOU TEASE ME SO?!
[00:36] the_poetmaster: Dum de dum.
[00:37] the_poetmaster: Damnit!
[00:37] the_poetmaster: Where are you?
[00:37] the_poetmaster: My music is not enough to slake me.
[00:37] the_poetmaster: I call upon the lords to command you to come to me...
[00:38] the_poetmaster: I call upon the lords to command you to come to me
[00:38] the_poetmaster: I call upon the lords to command you to come to me
[00:38] the_poetmaster: I call upon the lords to command you to come to me
[00:38] the_poetmaster: Etc etc etc
[00:38] the_poetmaster: (insert slaughter of a goat here)
[00:39] the_poetmaster: Add a dash of dried batwings...
[00:39] the_poetmaster: And a smidgen of tobasco.
[00:39] the_poetmaster: Et Voila!
[00:39] the_poetmaster: OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!
[00:39] the_poetmaster: I may as well be talking to myself here.
[00:40] the_poetmaster: I think that technically I am.
[00:41] the_poetmaster: My brain hurts now. I'm trying to figure out if that last sentance makes sense.
[00:41] the_poetmaster: and now I'm wondering if I spelt sentance correctly.
[00:41] the_poetmaster: Fucked if I know.
[00:41] the_poetmaster: I don't think I have.
[00:42] the_poetmaster: It doesn't look quite right.
[00:42] the_poetmaster: But there are words like that. Sneaky words like quiche.
[00:43] the_poetmaster: I can't spell charachter either.
[00:43] the_poetmaster: I'm pretty sure that only has one H.
[00:44] the_poetmaster: I'm now officially bored shitless.
[00:44] the_poetmaster: Bollocks to it. I'm off to look at some hardcore porn. Drop me a note when you see this.

I really should stop doing this. It can't be healthy.

My Festival Blog...

Isn't quite as sumptuous as I had planned.

But starting tommorow I shall be attempting to throw myself into the Festival spirit proper and will document whatever I get up to. Even if It's pure drivel of the lowest quality. It's only right that if I start something, I should finish it.

All I'm saying is... Don't expect high quality journalism that rivals the best Festival guides. Expect guff and madness spat from the brain like straggly dog links from a Chihuahua's ass.

A football match...

Probably isn't the kind of place that's conducive to hard drugs such as LSD and ecstasy.

But, having never been one to shy away from a visual and audible assault upon my senses I thought Why not? and washed down two mitsubishi's and a tab of acid with about an hour to go before kick off in tonights Hearts v's AEK Athens champions league qualifying match.

The game itself was a disappointment, as the result was 2-1 against Hearts, but when we scored I experienced a moment of pure rapture. 32,000 fans and I leapt to our feet as one and the ecstasy kicked into top gear on me and the noise of every voice rung in my ears.

I'm not much of a fan of football as a game, as more often than not Hearts suffer from being less than great and there isn't quite enough violence or danger involved for me to truly throw in with the baying crowds of supporters. That all went out the window in the split second after we scored. I screamed with a fervor I only ever allow a voice when I'm watching the news or the weather forecast.

"GO ON HEARTS! GET IT RIGHT UP THESE KEBAB EATING BASTARDS!" I yelled, as I pondered what it was that made a normally sane and (reasonably) rational person such as myself stoop so low as to resort to stereotyping people by their nationality. The thought was shunted aside with disregard and I yelled harder and louder than I've ever yelled at a TV during a rage filled moment.

"GO ON THE FUCKIN' JT's!" I bellowed, and felt the buzz of the acid sneaking its way up my spine and into my brainstem. The lack of oxygen in my body, due to screaming so hard, caused me to lose all sense of direction and I swayed forwards as my legs began to turn to what felt like socks full of water. I stopped screaming and the feeling rapidly shoved itself back into my legs and I regained my balance just before I fell face first onto the guy in front of me.

The rest of the game was marred by the sending off of one of the Hearts players and by AEK leveling in the dying minutes of the match and then scoring the winner in time added on. But, fuck it, so it goes. As they say, sometimes you eat the bear; Sometimes the bear eats you.


This weeks desktop...

Is a picture of The Grand Whazoo's favorite comedian Bill Hicks.

Bill Hicks.

To grab a copy for yourself do the click and save thing.


Not long now....

On Sunday night at 12pm I will be on holiday for a fortnight.

Retail Therapy...

Is probably good for the kind of people who can handle social situations with something close to elan. Which, as you know, isn't me. My usual tactic in these situations is to be as nice as humanly possible and hope that it doesn't go all Pete Tong.

Thanks must go to The Grand Whazoo as there were no major dramas today when I took a trip into town to have a small browsette through the bookshops and the music shops of the town. All was well and good in the world. With the obvious exception of the Israel-Lebanon situation of course.

And while we're on the subject of Israel vs Lebanon. What the fuck is that all about? I really don't like my neighbors very much but I have no urge whatsoever to blow large holes in their homes and kill their kids while they sleep in their beds at night. Well, that's not strictly true... There are times when I feel like popping a handgrenade through their letterboxes but that's only when they talk about me being in my bed after 1pm in the afternoon.

But I'm wandering... Back to the subject in hand...

I dragged my arse out of bed just after 1pm, hauled myself towards the bus-stop and jumped on the first bus into town. After slipping into the post office to pay the rent on the shithole that I call home I skanked my way along to Virgin to peruse the shelves of three for £20 DVD's. After seeing nothing that floated my boat I shuffled out of Virgin and headed into HMV.

Twenty or so minutes later I found myself standing at the counter with my plastic friend in one hand and four DVD's in the other. The gimp behind the counter took my plastic and popped it into the chip and pin thingy while I wondered whether or not he ever fantasised about going on a killing spree during his lunch hour.

A few seconds later my transaction was completed and I made my way towards the escalator to get out of the shop before the gimp pulled out a .38 and began blowing holes in people. As I stepped off the escalator I spotted a solitary copy of Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail for the knock down price of £2.99.

The DVD's I bought were as follows...

Human Traffic. Remixed.
The Odd Couple.
Rock 'N Roll High School.
The Animatrix.

After finishing my shopping trip I hopped onto a bus and headed for my brothers house, where I helped him move some stuff into his new workshop and his lovely wife Julie cut my hair into a very stylish new look.

All in all a very pleasant day.