What a Cnut.

I just had a haircut. My head is now exposed to the wind and rain that typifies the Scottish summer. I look like Private Pile from the Stanley Kubrick flick Full Metal Jacket.

And it's not a song by Ingrid Chavez . It's the G8 summit. Edinburgh awaits with baited breath to see how much damage is going to be caused by those "Nasty anarchist people." But not me. I'm better prepared for the chaos and mayhem that is going to happen according to some sources. I have a Kevlar helmet and a cricket bat if the worst comes to the worst and Edinburgh spends three days under martial law due to Mcdonalds, GAP, Starbucks and the headquarters for the RBS being set alight by anticapitalists, anarchists and Edinburgh Neds . If the dungheap does indeed hit the windmill I shall answer the call of duty, strap on my helmet, crab my cricket bat for personal protection and get right into the foray complete with camera and notebook & pen to document the goings on. I'm just stupid enough to do so as well. Why not? If some fool journo is not game enough to get his face mashed for the good of reporting then I'm game to give it a bash. And besides, as...

Makes my heart beat faster. How about yours?

Blue. As I sit here writing, King Curtis blows out a whiter shade of pale. Words... come to my mind to describe the emotion this tune carries along upon golden notes, like dewdrops hanging from a spiders web, each toot, poo-tee-woot and poo-tee-weet takes me further into my mind. Way down inside. Down to where the mad March hare runs and Alice lives. ...And I write them. Whether or not they are understood. Whether or not they are read. Just so long as they are there. Visions... leap into my third eye, I sense the presence of the disembodied audience that I hear through the sweet simpatico of sound. I know these people, they are our friends, our lovers and our legacies. A voice in the crowd says "Yes," and in my mind I see Dean Moriarty pop into existence, he smiles at me and darts off into the crowd. Far away. A being of time and space now. A conglomerate of individuals different memories, created by God and kept alive by the words and the music. ...Close enough to touch.

It's really sad that something as trivial as reaching 4000 hits on my blog should make me feel like I do at the moment. I began posting on this blog about a year ago. In fact, it's only two days until this blog is a year old. I never thought I'd keep up with posting on it for longer than a week or two before I got sick of it and resigned it to being another good intention that I grew tired of. But, here I am, still posting. And, not only am I still posting but I'm still enjoying doing it. I know this blog isn't widely read, hell I only have 9 returning readers, but that doesn't bother me. I'd enjoy doing this even if no-one read it during my lifetime and it only got read posthumously by beings far in the future on spaceships that can tap into our internet, time travel, fly faster than light speed and make a cup of instant coffee that actually tastes like freshly made ground coffee... But I doubt that will ever happen. Instant coffee can't be made to tast...

When he has a day off from work. I'm off today and I'm pondering what I should do. I have one thing I must do, go to the bank and deposit my wages cheque, apart from that the rest of the day is freetime. Perhaps I could have a dice day? Though, thinking about it maybe I'll have Wednesday as dice day. I can be better prepared to allow the dice control over my actions if I do this. My cheque will be cleared, I can get up early, rather than sleeping until midday as I did today and I can have the whole day dicing. Having a full days dicing sounds infinitely more enjoyable compared to half a day. Plus, I'll be fully prepared to document my dice day in my notebook, it'll give me something to write about and also give you all something to read. Now though, I'm going to jump into the shower, get dressed and go over to the bank to deposit my wages cheque. Have a nice day.

If I knew how to I'd put a list of music I'm listening to at the moment in the sidebar of my blog. But I don't know how to, so I'm posting it here. Muse. Prime Circle. Hello Crazy World. Jean Michel Jarre. Aero. The Pogues. Killers. Hot Fuss. Live. Secret Samadhi. Peter Gabriel. Shaking The Tree. Jean Michel Jarre. Huston-Lyon Live concerts. Eminem. Slim Shady LP. Live. The Distance To Here. Collective Soul. Blender. Damien Rice. Collective Soul, Hints, allegations and things left unsaid. James Blunt. Beautiful. Live. Mental jewelry. Bob Marley & The Wailers. Legend. Stereophonics. I've not read any books this week. Though I did complete The Trials Of Lenny Bruce and I've just begun a re-read of Hunter S Thompson's classic Hells Angels. I really should begin to read Jane Austin's Pride and Predjudice and Emma, Charles Dickens' Dombey and Son, and the Sir Walter Scott tome Ivanhoe, that have sat on my bookcase for the last couple of months but I...