I meant to post this in December but couldn't. Videos etc. to follow. Deep felt good wishes to Shoom.
Showing posts with label 2012. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2012. Show all posts
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Shoom Shoom Shoom: Happy Birthday Shoom, You are 25.
I meant to post this in December but couldn't. Videos etc. to follow. Deep felt good wishes to Shoom.
This mess we're in ...
Imagine. You wake up on the first day of the new year, number 13 and 2 thousand since, roughly, somethng truly awful, you are in some kind of very detatched trance. Comatic, maybe. But functioning in some way and when clicking in to function for a short time in the most limited sense, unfortunately, you're not aware then of the original situation.
And so the machinery, cogs and wheels, of various comatic states click in and whirr away, one subsuming as the next drops like clockwork, each detatched from being with them the awareness of the coma itself. Like then you're trying. Because everything's all right isn't it?
That was me today, and many days. Today was kind of worse than normal, maybe much worse. I didn't go out revelling. My mother had promised to take me out for a Christmas dinner, and I was ill on Christmas day and before, stuck in bed at home in the "sticks", when I'd intended to come to the city to stay at my mother's place. So the Christmas dinner out happened last night, NYE, nice French restaurant, nice food, relaxing, and I am glad I was too ill to go to a club or whatever and drink lots. Two glasses of the house Chardonnay and an attempt at a beer when I returned (it didn't work), early to bed after strange uncontrollable movements, and I was pleased I didn't try to effect some kind of expected mental pleasure mechanism for expectations of the cross of the year time. Just so that a tradition is a tradition or something, because, subconsciously, people get killed when traditions die and one is always to blame for the potential of a tradition dying.
My main point of this post was to write the title, a little about me, but actually most not about me - yes, about me, not what I've written so much, but about anyone and every one. Think of what it means. Go deep. Especially think of paranoia and categorical errors, paranoia and loss of identity and the strange balance of wanting and trying to be on track or recover with knowing effecting that or "indulging" in that or getting swept away by that can be the problem itself or the hiatus of a problem that maybe otherwise wouldn't matter.
Think about this.
Think, maybe write thoughts:
Are you running around (or lying still) "like a chicken with its head cut off?"
Stop, relax, think. About you. About others. About everything.
Take a whole year.
Maybe, be aware you can be aware at some point - don't think this stops, either. Maybe.
A network contact wrote this today:
"a new year is like a blank book. the pen is in your hands. it's your chance to write a beautiful story for yourself."
And so the machinery, cogs and wheels, of various comatic states click in and whirr away, one subsuming as the next drops like clockwork, each detatched from being with them the awareness of the coma itself. Like then you're trying. Because everything's all right isn't it?
That was me today, and many days. Today was kind of worse than normal, maybe much worse. I didn't go out revelling. My mother had promised to take me out for a Christmas dinner, and I was ill on Christmas day and before, stuck in bed at home in the "sticks", when I'd intended to come to the city to stay at my mother's place. So the Christmas dinner out happened last night, NYE, nice French restaurant, nice food, relaxing, and I am glad I was too ill to go to a club or whatever and drink lots. Two glasses of the house Chardonnay and an attempt at a beer when I returned (it didn't work), early to bed after strange uncontrollable movements, and I was pleased I didn't try to effect some kind of expected mental pleasure mechanism for expectations of the cross of the year time. Just so that a tradition is a tradition or something, because, subconsciously, people get killed when traditions die and one is always to blame for the potential of a tradition dying.
My main point of this post was to write the title, a little about me, but actually most not about me - yes, about me, not what I've written so much, but about anyone and every one. Think of what it means. Go deep. Especially think of paranoia and categorical errors, paranoia and loss of identity and the strange balance of wanting and trying to be on track or recover with knowing effecting that or "indulging" in that or getting swept away by that can be the problem itself or the hiatus of a problem that maybe otherwise wouldn't matter.
Think about this.
Think, maybe write thoughts:
"This mess we're in ... "
Are you running around (or lying still) "like a chicken with its head cut off?"
Stop, relax, think. About you. About others. About everything.
Take a whole year.
Maybe, be aware you can be aware at some point - don't think this stops, either. Maybe.
A network contact wrote this today:
"a new year is like a blank book. the pen is in your hands. it's your chance to write a beautiful story for yourself."
Thursday, 18 October 2012
The Classical Twits - Paul Morley's unexpected, very funny article at Sinfini Music blog (owned by Universal Music Corporation)
Sinfini Music is a classical music blog I've just discovered and have read little of. I'm really just sharing this one, very funny, very accurate (at last) article by long time serious art and popular music critic Paul Morley, exposing The Classical Brit awards for what it long has been. (A James Rhodes article alerted me to this.)
I really have to share the article in Thinks Murmurs Stuff, for it must be a landmark article, to become the stuff of legend - one hopes for the change it may bring rather than a sole, lone voice lost in time while fondly remembered.
I don't follow the world of classical music more or less at all, and I seldom listen to classical music anymore, that which used to be the love of my life, I suppose. Or at least which consumed so much of the time of my life. A love of my life, is correct. I think it's factually incorrect actually to say the love of my life, it can only be a totally wrong description. Things just were as they were. I used to play. I can't play anymore, in significant part due to being ill.
Anyway, here's the link the the very funny and long overdue article this post was written to lead people to, by Paul Morley:
Aside, I've been thinking of writing a long blog article on the wonder and marvellousness of a piece of classical music, the second symphony, "Ressurection", by Austro-Bohemian composer of the early 20th Century Gustav Mahler. The power and meaning of that piece in this world is so great that I can only think of it as something that lies in wait for as many people to discover it as possible. So I hope to write what I can about it within the next couple of months or so.
I really have to share the article in Thinks Murmurs Stuff, for it must be a landmark article, to become the stuff of legend - one hopes for the change it may bring rather than a sole, lone voice lost in time while fondly remembered.
I don't follow the world of classical music more or less at all, and I seldom listen to classical music anymore, that which used to be the love of my life, I suppose. Or at least which consumed so much of the time of my life. A love of my life, is correct. I think it's factually incorrect actually to say the love of my life, it can only be a totally wrong description. Things just were as they were. I used to play. I can't play anymore, in significant part due to being ill.
Anyway, here's the link the the very funny and long overdue article this post was written to lead people to, by Paul Morley:
Aside, I've been thinking of writing a long blog article on the wonder and marvellousness of a piece of classical music, the second symphony, "Ressurection", by Austro-Bohemian composer of the early 20th Century Gustav Mahler. The power and meaning of that piece in this world is so great that I can only think of it as something that lies in wait for as many people to discover it as possible. So I hope to write what I can about it within the next couple of months or so.
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