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:

 

"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."

 

Ho hum ... blog-wise as idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean...

' Day after day, day after day,

  We [royal] stuck, nor breath nor motion ' *

.. blog-wise.

Y'know, I've been wondering what to say in a blog and if I should just write something, anything, anyway!

With a lot of interest in certain things, for example House Music, I was doing fine at one stage to expect I could just bloody well post some amazing house classics or rarer heard stuff. Which I really should.

I've just returned from the South of France, yesterday. I spent two weeks there, most of it in Nice, part around Cannes... (Which was very hard actually for this sufferer of chronic fatigue and severe, frequent migraines.) ... And did very little but just about made it going, just about stayed alive and just about made it back again.

The relaxing, high point of one's life ...

... the focus that is needed in the mind (so strongly it is also in the body and movement and existence)

... about the real situation on the earth, periodically, maybe regularly, like a tonic wine or cup of the most healing, inspiring, refreshing, renewing, situating spiritual MEAD (or 'made wine') that winds you up again like the clockwork doll who needed it so long ago, but got by, but anyway for whom it works again

...

... well, ceases much to be all that at all when it is such a challenge, a real chore, something of a nature close to a killer - surprisingly, something bringing on serious physical body pain in trying and worse in the mind and head. To try so hard, in reaching, though just intending to naturally make happen (but it doesn't), what one took for granted once, what is defined as needing to be there to be taken for granted, what should never be "tried" at all ... is muddling everything up.

I don't mean that it ought to be that a person can take having a holiday for granted. No, not at all. I know for many it is a luxury, and many, many, basic food is a greater thing of luxury. Which is very sad, indeed (such is this place, alas).

I was referring to some kind of mind thing, some kind of existence and identity thing about living on the earth. I mean that it's the very kind of thing - visiting the South of France to me (and other Meditteranean places, perhaps only European Meditteranean places, not sure), for example - which has an identity itself as something innately, inalterably of spritual relaxation and the most calm, refreshing inspiration. A necessary tonic involving identity and reality. (Which, if in part or substantially of illusion, nevertheless is so strong it amounts in fact to something that isn't actually illusion anyway, it couldn't be. Reality can work that way.) And that identity of that real facet of life - the visit to a certain place or places which live on in the mind or even become part of the mind - lives in a most special, vital, essential, delicate, sensitive position within a very important place of one's personal identity. ... ... And it doesn't work, and seems it might churn your whole identity and being up, perhaps tragically, perhaps forever, if it happens that it is strangely such an effort it seems a challenge, something that nearly kills you perhaps!!!

Anyway, it was OK, good too! And better than OK!

 

(Added 14.10.1012: And worse and much worse than OK, of course. It was real and not a figment in my mind since it ended.)

...

...

...

So, just some words about holidaying or travelling, and places which can be part of you very existence after some time, and identity. Unless you escape, perhaps... ! Hahaha!? I don't know. It's far too strong for me. There is no escape. Places are me ... to some really large degree (more than just Meditteranean places). And I decided long, long ago, even if escape could somehow be possible, it's fine anyway, it's how it is, and, in a sense, what can be higher (meaning more valid) or other or more true than that?

While in Nice, I thought I should post a blog entry about visiting, either during or soon after the visit. While I couldn't think what that should be, I thought, why not just make a visual blog entry - you know, some photos, perhaps with shaky camcorder footage, made into a quick home video. I'd still like to do that, and want to make a proper post holiday Blog post, even though I took very little footage or photos indeed. A quick flash video to come maybe.

 

         I'll get some kind of blog going eventually, I hope. No, here it is! Yes. It happens to you.
         You don't happen to it. It can't be happened to. But you can be happened to.
         No, I made the bloody move to go and write tonight, that's it, isn't it? Isn't it?

 

...

HOUSE CLASSIC time ...

Slower house - soul classic ...

of Chicago heritage.

I rediscovered this in late Spring or early summer this year,

I think thanks to Groove Armada, and their occasional guest spot,

show 6 Mix takover on BBC Radio. While, I remember, I usually rediscovered it

once every 6 months to a year, quite regularly. But always like a rediscovery every time.

Lovely.

It's the great, great Larry Heard,

as

Mr. Fingers

"What About This Love"

(1989)

(Thanks to Youtube promotional / social sharing, by "LILJAMIE")

Buy "What About This Love" by Mr Fingers:

• Music file download from 7 Digital store
• Used vinyl sold through Discogs marketplace
 
 

...

...

Groove Armada, 6 Mix takeover (2 hours)

15.06.2012,

BBC Radio 6 (UK)

A leftish radio show / long mix from the dons who went their own silent way for a while.

 

Download here unrestricted- Groove Armada 6 Mix 15.06.12
(free)

(Note: Legal download sharing, as audio is otherwise unavailable,

and not available commercially.

Fair use exception in Copyright Law due to special interest,

if used not for profit or gain

though copyright remains with Groove Armada / BBC.

While the copyright exception doesn't allow many repeat plays of each track,

without also buying them.)

BBC program info with (usually incomplete!) tracklist:

"6 Mix" Groove Armada, 15.6.12, BBC website page

Enjoy... :)

---

 

* 'Rime of the Ancient Mariner'. Coleridge-Taylor, or Taylor-Coleridge, whichever is correct, I can't remember. Probably the first one and I guess I should remember.

... ... 1 ... ... ... ... ... ... (subject added long after post)

New blog thing. And "Electroma". I am touched by the beauty and real relevance and significance of the feature film "Electroma" [2006], which I watched in full thanks to a Youtube media sharer, albeit only in the lower resolution (360 dots down). (The DVD is ordered now, so I've not been blagging stuff away from copyright laws. However, I recommend if you think you would not watch this film, to try the whole feature if you like, in Youtube and decide if you would pay to watch it in the proper resolution. For that can be how modern promotional publishing works best.)

I don't think I've been as touched by a film for a some time. My life is very much encompassed by illness - severe migraines and chronic fatigue - more or less all of the time. And so it means something very different to most people that I "watched" or "sat through" a film, when also this is one reliable passtime and point of focus that I keep in life. By the difference, what I mean is that it's not like I am, all day long, happily going about things, or sitting pretty in a relaxed manner, until I watch, and then I return to how I was. No, anything of any duration, even passive "entertainment" such as watching a video is a big thing, a big treat if I can make it, something I hope to be able to do some times, but would actually quite rarely be able to do. Life is about focuses and nothing. The estranged mental reality of perhaps acheiving anything once known in life, some time in the coming times.

I start an online "Weblog" - I suppose a diary for all and sundry (as well, of course, as for me, that's important), having to define what makes up, I suppose, more or less all of my living time. (While, yet, also, living time means something else. I am more like an unknown, far away desert than a human as I used to be.) It's just a necessity to describe this briefly in a first post, while it's tearing me from getting some thoughts down about the great impact of Daft Punk's "Electroma" movie.

[If you don't know, Daft Punk are a duo of pop musicians, very successful, specialising in electronic dance music - 'house' and disco, and I think more recently 'techno', which has a harder, sparser, more minimal, unrelenting or dedicated depending on your point of view, persuausion.]

I can't count on being able to write or think in any sustained way at all. I'm just gong to copy a quick movie review I wrote last night for the IMDB site, which has a good number of very favourable reviews for this film, while a relatively small overall number of reviews for it. And hopefully other thoughts will come. I know many feelings are there. I can't help feeling and thinking, "Wow, what a great film."

I need anyway to watch the film again, and I suspect I'll watch it many times. I think I fell in love with it. And its soundtrack. I don't know how many times I've listened to Linda Perhacs's "If You Were My Man" today. Most likely just beyond promotional, radio play alternative, social media sharing etc. etc. copyright exception times also, meaning I'll have to buy the album, but I want to a lot.

I suppose it took some plays for me to really remember that I knew Linda Perhacs's "If You Were My Man" earlier in my life. (This is a common experience for me.) And I remember the tears the song brought, of its great, simple beauty in music. I guess a relationship with that song never expires, never retires, one never outdates it. Maybe it comes and finds you at times.

I read other people expressing gratitude to Daft Punk for that song, while I know Youtube in general, on any subject, and opportunities to write about Daft Punk also, abound with worship eulogies of all kinds to Daft Punk.

I should link to Linda Perhacs's classic, gorgeous, simple ballad of one sided love.

(I'd just been laughing to myself seeing someone tag the song or singer with "psych folk", which brought back funny memories of ridiculous categorisations in the early 80s of what you might call new directions in folk. I remember concluding in humour that "psych folk" or "psych spiritual folk" were just tags designed to create delusions of witchy life in a modern, zen-like, superior, more fortunate grounding. A new birth, perhaps, in removed modern 'knowingness', which, thanks to the generosity of pastiche, or just being post first generation or something, seemed to allow a higher plane to old categories. Stuff and nonsense. Mostly, maybe. And maybe there's something, a thing, to be said for all that. For I know artists could descend upon me bitingly to ask what developing vision with time and experience might be. And I don't know.)

Perhaps I can link or even embed the track by Linda Perhacs at the end of this post. I'm quite new to Web publishing, and new to blogging.

Anyhow, "Electroma". Thoughts thus far managed by copying my review, which is very basic actually. One of the main reasons I'd written this for the IMDB site was to make the point, assuring people who might be put off "Electroma" because of its connections to a pop, disco or rock group, that it is completely independent from the music duo Daft Punk, artistically and in every sense, and has none of their music. That it is a film in its own right.

So I begin a blog really just mentioning "Electroma", putting it aside to write about later sometime. Just happy to communicate, basically the deep impact of the film for now, very surprising, and the great impact of Linda Perhac's song particularly. Comforting. Perhaps some others finding this can appreciate also. (I don't know if anyone reads blogs, I'm sure there are millions of them tucked away in The Web, barely tickled by the seeking or unseeking potential magnetism, reward, wonder, disgust, time passing from the people who would.)

Copied:

For film fans, great, 8 July 2012

*** This review may contain spoilers ***

A landmark movie. It's very attractive and will retain an emotional attraction and personal significance for many. One reason, as another reviewer remarked here, is its comforting simplicity. There is no cerebral requirement for external references etc. as in some art movies. Surely there can be cinematic references there to artistic movies, however the film kind of, simultaneously creates a visual artistic paradox in shunning any necessity or compulsion to know.
People shouldn't be put off this film by connections to the music world and the band Daft Punk, or associations with electro, disco or house music.

"Electroma" is a movie 100%, and is to be viewed 100% on movie terms. It is a feature film, and has nothing to do with music, disco music, electro music or Daft Punk in itself. It has no Daft Punk music and no club soundtrack, though the soundtrack is gorgeous. While, yes, Daft Punk the musicians see themselves as culturally varied artists and may kind of live some sense of concept art, and the film may fit within this notion; the characters in the film are based on the band characters. However, again, there's really nothing more connected to the film. The wider contextualisation, for anyone who needs it, need only be that to know the characters are meant to be the 2 band members. The artistic meaning of "Electroma" is self contained.
I feel this is a very deep film. While very sparse in elements of interpretation, this means that the meaning of what you can find in there can be incredibly strong indeed. You won't want to treat any of it lightly. There are very serious and emotional themes (and they're very difficult to treat well), such as predeterminism, life as disingenuous facade for the seeing, the lack of choice in life, perhaps, that worldly fate is doomed in the here and now.
What is astonishing about this film is both that this is done in the gorgeous visual way achieved, lovely cinematography, and then the sheer, deep endearingness that this gives way to in appreciation of the film. The themes call upon sympathy for those in the welded, inescapable routes, while we may surmise as to whether this has meaning for the two actual band members. It seems there is a lean to a theme of kind of artists as hero, yet anti-hero in a traditional sense, moreso again - as hero. Endearing and comforting. Lovely cinematography and soundtrack. Full of significance and far from flimsy.

End of copied text.

Two things. One, perhaps I should have mentioned in my review for readers of IMDB, that, as I see it, and intentionally, this film is not out for creating anything like a typical feel good experience. Perhaps my terms endearing and comforting could suggest otherwise. (Remember, maybe, I am a burning desert! Perhaps so is the meaning of life. And I know it's not clear just in what circumstances anyway, this can become endearing and give comfort. Comfort comes mostly in harsh landscapes, and this could mean the most harsh. Kind of ever?)

However, to me this is a very grown up film, utterly concerned with the truth and clearness of vision, kind of an eternal clearness of vision about this place, I think. Which, I should add, probably does not fit into the song "Cover Your Face with Sunshine", unless meaning real sunshine, burning, blinding, harsh, comforting, healing, natural light and heat. [ Edit; added 08/02/2013: But even then, not really. ]

Another, just to mention I find it funny and very interesting (for one thing I'm charmed to come across it) that some other people who have given their thoughts on the film perceive goings on which come from their own interpretation, goings on which they see as the basic plot. It is interesting indeed. For the plot is so amazingly minimalist, so highly sparse. And perhaps, for some unused to that, some not ready for that, it is inevitable that their interpretation forms part of what they perceive as the plot.