UB40

murdered this song on a jukebox in a bar last night. The Jimmy Cliff original has been on rotation at home today, and I insist upon having it played at my funeral:

Many rivers to cross
But I can`t seem to find my way over
Wandering I am lost as I travel along
The white cliffs of dover
Many rivers to cross and it`s only my will
That keeps me alive
I`ve been licked, washed up for years and,
I merely survive because of my pride.

And this loneliness won`t leave me alone
It`s such a drag to be on your own
My woman left and she did`nt say why
Well I guess, I gotta try.
Many rivers to cross but where to begin,
I`m playing for time
There`ll be times when I find myself thinking
Of committing some dreadful crime.

I`ve got many rivers to cross
But I can`t seem to find my way over
Wandering I am lost as I travel along
The white cliffs of dover
Many rivers to cross and it`s only my will
That keeps me alive
I`ve been licked, washed up for years and,
I merely survive because of my pride.

Babylon System

St Agnes Place, Kennington is being evicted. BBC link here, residents' (very) live blog here.

Feel like crap today

please mail me something to entertain me at home... Please... Someone... Anyone...

Competition

in the DJing stakes from this fellow in Russia.

Ebay/Xbox360/Time Travel hilarity

ensued when this listing appeared, was bid on and won on Ebay in the States.

More Turkish profanity

an entire page,in fact, thanks to Mr T. Leposky.

Today's news...

Foreign students in Voronezh live in fear of their lives, according to the BBC.
This 19th Century book highlights the dangers of self pleasure.
And this mail is apparently going around NY at the moment.


1st is a girl's apology email for cheating on some bloke.
2nd is his reply which was Bcc'd to his entire address book. Its funny as. What a bitch!


Brad,

It would be difficult for me to be any more miserable right now, I feel
like the worst person ever. First, let me start by saying that I am
truly truly sorry, and I hate myself for hurting you. Of all the people
in the whole entire world, you were honestly the last person that I
would ever want to wrong in any way. There is no excuse at all or
anything that happened, so I won't even try other than to say all of us
had WAY too much to drink, and I did a stupid thing. I can handle you
being pissed at me, I absolutely deserve it, I can even handle the ugly
words that were exchanged between us, what I can't handle is thinking
that you see me as a different person. It is weird, I feel like I just
went through a horrible break up or something. The world looked funny
yesterday, I couldn't crack a smile if you paid me, there are songs I
can't listen to, and I just feel beyond crushed. I don't know if you
meant everything you said to me, and I am hoping that you didn't. I know
that I was wrong on many levels, but I am also hoping that this is
something that we can deal with. I know it sounds totally crazy and
stupid, but you have come to play such a significant role in my life, I
can't imagine my days without you. It is totally strange and weird to
say that, and you could say that my behaviour didn't reflect that, and
you would be correct. I hate feeling like you hate me, and I hate
feeling like all of your friends think I am a terrible person, because I
am not. I know there is nothing I can say or do to take back what
happened, but I just want you to know that fighting with you was just
about the worst thing I could have ever imagined. It was right up there
with one of the ugliest nights of my life, and I would give anything in
the world to rewind and fix it.

I am not sure if you will respond to this, part of me thinks that you
won't. If not today, then maybe some other time. Also, thanks for
getting my stuff together, although I think my sunglasses are still at
your house, if you could keep your eyes peeled for them that would be
great. I can't even focus or work today, I can't eat, I seriously feel
like it was an ugly break up, and I am hoping against hopes that it was
not that and you are not done with me. Please don't cut me off, I really
don't think I can handle that.


I am so sorry.


Elizabeth



RESPONSE:


Dear Elizabeth,


Thank you for your concern. I'll be sure to file it away under "L" for
"Long-winded diatribes from drunken whores I couldn't care less about".

You did a stupid thing huh? No...doing long division and forgetting to
carry the one is "a stupid thing"; Mixing in a red sock with a load of
whites is "a stupid thing"; Blowing some guy in a bathroom for 45minutes
while I sit at the bar wondering if you're taking so long because you
ate too much bran that morning isn't as much a "Stupid thing" as it is
grounds for permanent removal from my social calendar.

To be honest, I'm not sure if it was more amusing that you went and
degraded yourself in a public toilet not once but twice in a 2 hour
span, or that you seemed to think that by saying "Well, I didn't F**k
him" somehow gave you a clean slate. So forgive me if I couldn't care less if
the world "looked funny" to you yesterday. Since your world revolves
around blow dryers, golden retrievers, Prada Bags and Jelly Beans, I'm
sure it must have been most unsettling to actually have to consider
someone else's feelings for 24 hours straight. The good news for you is
that my friends don't think you're a terrible person, they just think
you're the average run of the mill cum-guzzling blond who commands about
as much respect as your average child porn collector. I could be wrong
but, it's pretty hard to respect some B&T chick who comes out to spend
the night at my place even though she's seeing someone else in New
jersey and winds up tongue-bathing the taint of anyone who decides 30
minutes of droning commentary on Colin Farrell's new haircut is worth
putting up with for a hand job in the men's room. The good thing about
being a guy is that when I eventually bump into the young lad who
finger-blasted you on top of a towel dispenser last saturday, we'll have
a shot and laugh our heads off about the time it happened.

By the way, for the amount of time you claim to spend in spin class you
really must be doing something wrong to sport the thunder thighs you do.
Watching you parade around my bedroom in a thong was a little like
watching sea lions mate. Thought you might like to know.

PS. I BCC'd about 100 people on this email.

Talk to you never,
Brad

Domain names

Domain names that needed a little more thought... these are/were all real

1) Who Represents?, a database for agencies to the rich and famous: www.whorepresents.com
2) Experts Exchange, a knowledge base where programmers can exchange advice and views: www.expertsexchange.com
3) Looking for a pen? Look no further than Pen Island: www.penisland.net
4) Need a therapist? www.therapistfinder.com
5) Mole Station Native Nursery, based in New South Wales: www.molestationnursery.com
6) Gas central heating anyone? www.gasheating.co.uk
7) New to Milan and you need electric light? Why not sign up on-line with Power-Gen? www.powergenitalia.com

Wittgenstein was an interesting fellow

"A man will be imprisoned in a room with a door that's unlocked and opens inwards; as long as it does not occur to him to pull rather than push." There's more to this logic lark than meets the eye.

A quotation

“For what I always hated and detested and cursed above all things was this contentment, this healthiness and comfort, this carefully preserved optimism of the middle classes, this fat and prosperous brood of mediocrity.”

Hesse - Steppenwolf

An idea

pinched from EINY - the OKCupid politics test - here are my results:

You are a Social Liberal (76% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (18% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Thank Christ for that - I thought my more Totalitarian tendencies would win the day. I dare not publish the results of my dating compatibility test, though...

Pages and pages

of dreadful album covers from around the world can be found at Pitchfork Media.

Soviet Espionage

Pavlik has mailed me this link to Soviet maps of the UK (via BoingBoing). The Central London map will soon be replacing the Hulk as my wallpaper at work. No maps of Portsmouth, but I guess Soviet spies would have felt right at home, in an Ирония судьбы, или С лёгким паром! kind of way, given the architectural devastation of the city...

Paradise Syndrome

is something I have been wanting to read and post about, but unfortunately there is an episode from Star Trek with this title, and as we all know, the Internet was originally set up to keep Star Trek and Star Wars fans in contact with one another, so I have been unable to find anything relevant. I will keep searching though, dear readers.

Folk music

is something I am beginning to listen to with ever greater frequency. There is no need to worry, dear readers, I have not yet entered the world of badly-patterned wooly jumpers and holding my ear (a la 1970's folk in the UK). I have always had more than a passing interest in Irish folk, probably due to early exposure to the Pogues, a band I still listen to frequently, but my mother's taste in Scottish folk (the sanitised version from the White Heather Club, Kenneth McKellar, et al) always left me rather cold - I'm sure that there must be a multitude of delightfully anti-English/drinking/heartache songs from North of the Border. American folk (or roots)entered my life through my rather tragic love of country & western - not Garth Brooks, but Johnny Cash, the Carter Family, Bluegrass, etc - and of course, there is once again an absolute mass for me yet to discover. This week, however, has had a decidedly Central/East European bent - my journey around the M25 on Sunday was accompanied, rather ironically, by a CD of Gypsy music, ranging from ancient (I would assume) tunes from Rajastan to the very latest stars of the Roma scene in Hungary. Couldn't understand a word of it, of course, but all of the songs possessed a delightfully mournful quality tempered at times by the sheer joy and virtuousity of the musicians. This evening has been a collection of Czech bardic songs (thanks to Janochka). Again, I don't understand much of it. Indeed, the only words I've recognised have been 'Strada' (not in the Italian sense, I would imagine) and the usual internationalisms of 'revolutsia', etc (sorry, I have no ability to transcribe or spell from Czech). Utter bliss, and reminiscent of Okudzhava/Vysotskii (excellent multilingual site). Anyway, he may be Vladimir Merta, but I was not told, and the label on the CD was most obscure.

The same site

www.thejetsetter.co.uk also has a guide to Portsmouth pubs in all their glory. No mention of the Fawcett Inn, though.

Another

link to some photos of Portsmouth as it used to look back in the 1970's/80's before the laughable attempts at gentrification.

Shakespeare

is enjoying a mini-revival, thanks to the wonderful season of BBC updates. I watched Taming of the Shrew this evening, with further delights to follow over the week. This all serves to prove (although I, like most British kids, could not bear the Bard when compelled to read him at school) truly was a genius, a master of the English language (if it was him what wrote those plays and poems), and as with all classics, the play had a timeless quality, standing up well to slight rewriting and a transference to the modern day.

Despite exhaustion

Ich kann nicht schlafen. So here's a happy thought to send you, dear readers, off to bed with...

In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge. ~ Colette

No heating

in the flat, and it is cold. The heating should be fixed this week. I would put my coat on, something I never had to do, even as a student, but I am too proud. I am mystified as to how I can be earning money and living in a nice flat and yet still be struggling to survive. I must retrain as a plumber, or move to somewhere (anywhere) cheaper.

More Dusty

frequent readers of this blog and anyone who knows me in real life will recognise my almost homosexual fascination with dear Dusty Springfield. I shall, therefore, leave you with lyrics before I retire to bed:

I just don’t know what to do with myself
Don’t know just what to do with myself
I’m so used to doing everything with you
Planning everything for two
And now that we’re through

I just don’t know what to do with my time
I’m so lonesome for you it’s a crime
Going to the movie only makes me sad
Parties make me feel as bad
When I’m not with you
I just don’t know what to do

Like a summer rose
It needs the sun and rain
Oh, I need your sweet love
To beat all the pain

I just don’t know what to do with myself
I just don’t know what to do with myself
Baby, if your new love ever turns you down
Come back, I will be around
Just waiting for you
I don’t know what else to do

Like a summer rose
It needs the sun and rain
Oh, I need your sweet love
To beat all the pain

I don’t know just what to do with myself
I don’t know just what to do with myself
Baby, if your new love ever turns you down
Come on back, I will be around
Just waiting for you
I don’t know what else to do, no, no, no
I don’t know what else to do
I’m still so crazy for you, no, no, no, no
I don’t know what else to do, no, no, no
I’m still so crazy for you

More news

Cork boy leaves football team, the UK's most wanted criminals are now online, and it's still better to be part of Generation X than of Y or Z/FAT.

Old Age

is a wonderful thing. No more hangovers - just exhaustion for days. And that means you're a cheap date when you start drinking the following morning/afternoon/evening (please delete as appropriate) - three pints of Guinness and a plate of sausage and mash this evening and I was begging to go to bed (and not in a sexual way). And I'll sleep well tonight...

News, Novosti...

It is absolutely freezing here today, but elsewhere, David Irving has been arrested, and a Mexican woman has taken on and beaten Coca Cola. I am slightly hung over after a leaving do last night, but I don't have to be at work for another 2 hours...

An old picture

from 1906 of my current home - glorious in it's CoEness:




















Thanks to ealing-web.com.

The Millenium Problems

are seven mathematical problems, set by the Clay Mathematics Institute, and considered by mathematicians to be the most pressing (and difficult) mathematical problems of the age. Six of them require a deep knowledge of maths simply to understand the problem - feel free to dive in, if you feel like it. The P vs NP problem, however, is essentially one that could be solved by a logical/efficient/insane thinker.

Some other

Lukes from around the internet.

PS2 joy

Picked up Star Wars Battlefront 2 and the new Tony Hawk game this weekend. If any of the multitude of readers of this blog are online PS2er's, post and we can set up a game... If you dare! This weekend has been spent with bottles of Grolsch and the fulfilment of (some of) my childhood fantasies... Playing as Boba Fett and Darth Vader - maybe I just like dominant men in uniform...

Macedonia

is leading the way in WiFi connectivity...

A knife, a fork, a bottle

and a cork... The Thames is awash with cocaine, according to the Sunday Telegraph.

The next couple

of tracks I want to get hold of are:

The Pointer Sisters - Pinball Number Count, better known as the pinball counting animation track from Sesame Street back in the early 80's.

This kid named miles - Ring of Fire, reggaetastic cover of the Johnny Cash classic.

Ingerland

beat Argentina in the best match I've seen since Czech Republic vs the Netherlands, Euro 2004. In other news, a tooth from Nessie has been found, the German coalition has reached a deal, and there has been a mass kiss-in to protest at the cut of a gay kiss from a Brazilian soap.

New Kids On The Block

recorded a song called 'Tonight'. I, however, am reminding you that tonight is quiz night down at the Hansom Cab, my brother's current bar. £2.00 per team member, winning team takes the pot. Excellent food, reasonably priced beer.

Whack Your Boss

Don't get the sack, visit whackyourboss.com.

RSS

Thanks to Pavlik, I think I've set up an RSS feed from this blog. Those of you who know what RSS, please feel free to add it (if you want my deranged ramblings to appear). Those of you who don't, either Google RSS, or wait for next version of IE, which will have automatic RSS.

This evening's

listening has been Dusty Springfield - Dusty in Memphis. Despite her questionable past as a folk singer with the Springfields, and her later career as a true British diva, as witnessed by her collaboration with the Pet Shop Boys, dear Dusty never sounded better (to me at least) than on this album. Breakfast in Bed, Son of a Preacher Man, Just a Little Lovin', all done with the most beautifully fragile and soulful voice the UK has ever produced. And with proper deep Southern soul backing. If this album doesn't reduce you tears, nothing will.

Feel like you have no dusha?

Why not apply for this job at SSEES?

Portsmouth,

Belarus and anti-Semitism, all in one BBC report.

I almost committed

the greatest sin of my brief life a moment ago. I am absolutely dying for a beer, and, rather than make the 5 minute journey to the local offie, I opened a bottle of Smirnoff Ice left in the fridge by my nephew. I didn't drink it. The scent of fizzy lime flavoured vodka and mixer turned my stomach. It has added a nice shine to the sink I poured it down, though.

Tuesday night

is quiz night down at the Hansom Cab, my brother's current bar. £2.00 per team member, winning team takes the pot. Excellent food, reasonably priced beer. Why not come if you are in London?

Another link

to a post-Soviet Russian story on the BBC. This report seems to parallel the sense I got in Moscow this summer of a burgeoning middle-class, both in terms of Muscovites themselves, and Russian visitors to Moscow, many of whom brought digital cameras to Red Square.

Blog humo(u)r from

Toothpaste for Dinner

A day off

and I have done absolutely nothing. Watched the new Batman cartoon. Stuck the dishwasher on. Now "testing" my DJ gear with some new music and the laptop to see what kind of sound I can get from it. More days like this, please.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng

Written by Winston Foster and Henry Lawes
Yellowman
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng
In Bed With Yellowman

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng

Seh if yuh have a paper, yuh must have a pen
and if yuh have a start, yuh must have a end
seh five plus five, it equal to ten
and if yuh have goat, yuh put dem in a pen
and if yuh have a rooster, yuh must have a hen, now.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng

Jump fe happiness and jump fe joy
yuh nuh fe call Yellowman nuh bwoy
Lady Ann a yuh so take fe toy
playgal all dem call him joy
yuh nuh fe call Yellowman nuh bwoy
yuh nuh fe call Junjo nuh bwoy
yuh nuh fe take I and I fe bwoy.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, watch it!
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, catch it!
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, 'ca.

Zero, zero, one, one, nine
'ca Yellowman make yuh feel so fine
me chat all me lyric, me chat dem in a rhyme
me nuh eat lime it full of a rhyme
'ca Yellowman him a commit nuh crime, 'ca.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, hey!

Ku Shung Peng, Ku Shu-shu-shung Peng, hey!
Ku Shung Peng, Ku Shu-shu-shung Peng.
Seh if yuh have a start, yuh must have a end
seh if yuh have a paper, yuh pass me the pen
but tell yuh Yellowman have too much girlfriend
'ca nuff a dem a talk bout me nuh have nuh girlfriend
yuh a idiot bwoy, me have a hundred and ten
seh all a dem, dem have yellow children
all a dem, dem have yellow children
some live a Kingston and dung a Maypenn
nuff a dem a ask me how me have nuff girlfriend, true
arguments, I have nuff arguments, Lord!
Arguments, I have nuff arguments
me enter in the house of parliament
prime minister and his wife haffe keep silent
a true Yellowman a chat intelligent
dem put me in the court, the judge seh yuh innocent, true
arguments, I have nuff arguments, 'ca
Sandra should a be fe me girlfriend, hey!
Lady Ann should a be me girlfriend, make a

Zunggu zungguguzungguzeng, hey!
Yuh nuh fe jump fe happy or joy
yuh nuh fe call Yellowman nuh bwoy
nuh bother take Junjo fe toy
me bredda in law them call him U-roy.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, watch it!
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng

Yuh leggo violence, yuh smoke ishence
yuh deal with violence, yuh go dung silence
but tell yuh Yellowman come fe tell dem again
yuh live a Kingston or yuh live a Maypenn
seh if yuh have a rooster, yuh must have a hen
and if yuh have a start, yuh must have a end
but watch Yellowman come fe rock dem again, Lord!

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, watch it!
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, hey!

Jump fe happiness and jump fe joy
yuh nuh fe take Yellowman fe bwoy
yuh nuh fe take Yellowman fe toy.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, watch it!
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, hey!

Ku Shung Peng, Ku Shu-shu-shung Peng!
But tell yuh Yellow vibes it sound like FM
the other rest of vibes sound like AM
but tell yuh Yellowman come fe rock dem again
yuh could a live a Kingston, Mo' Bay or Maypenn, 'ca.

Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, hey!
Zungguzungguguzungguzeng, hey!

Nuh fe call Yellowman nuh bwoy
yuh fe jump fe happiness and jump fe joy.

Zunggu zungguguzungguzeng
'ca Yellowman have nuff girlfriend
'ca watch a man me come fe tell dem again
'ca Yellowman come fe mash dem again, Lord!

A sense of belonging

Despite my antipathy towards having to work Sundays, I actually enjoy the wander down from our flat to Ealing Broadway tube on a Sunday morning. The bus stops, usually peopled by smoking schoolkids and harrassed commuters are replaced by Poles waiting to catch coaches back to their homeland, laden with the fruits of their labour (generally in the same large tartan bags used across the whole of Central and Eastern Europe). Once past the bus stops, there is a small crowd of older Poles that congregate outside the largest Polish shop, opposite the station. The are all smartly dressed, many of them with badges (signifying what, I don't know, but given their age (late 60s-70s), they may be the children of the Polish resistance). They have clearly been meeting and chatting outside this shop as the bells in the Polish church ring for many years.

Reading back

over my own posts makes me wonder how my brain works. I am sure there must be masses of papers being written on the psychology and sociology of blogging.

Another Top Ten

of Jamaican artists of the last week:

1. Prince Far I
2. Eek-A-Mouse
3. Ini Kamoze
4. Sugar Minott
5. Scientist
6. Barrington Levy
7. Prince Buster
8. Big Youth
9. I-Roy
10. The Royals

John Peel

was undoubtedly a major force within UK music, influencing more people than most bands do. I frequently used to partake of his show as a young man, but for me Andy Kershaw has always been more of an influence. I remember as a teenager tuning into his show and hearing the most outlandish but melodic music from around the world. Whilst my peers were listening to Nirvana, Suede and others, I heard bluegrass, highlife, reggae and much more. Indeed, this evening I am enjoying the two volumes of Golden Afrique (samples from volume 1 at Stern's. And for that I am eternally grateful, as an evening of Sleeper, Echobelly or Shed Seven would be too awful for words.

Pozharskii

and Minin are Russian heroes from 1612, the end of Polish occupation. Such heroes in fact, that the statue above is in front of St. Basil's. Today was the first Day of People's Unity, marked by swastikas and neo-Nazis. Patriotism and nationalism are part and parcel of Russian life, as Stalin and Putin, amongst others have realised, but this aggressively negative form, with its basis in the far, almost legendary past, echoes the tribalist tendencies of the more southern Slavs, the effects of which we saw as Yugoslavia collapsed. This holiday is even more concerning given the recent rash of anti-Polish sentiment and violence in the Russian capital.

These two sites are full

of absolute bliss: eBaums World and cruel.com. Stop working and start surfing with our American cousins.

Winter has

arrived. Today was the first dry and cold day so far. The joy of the slight burning of your hands as you walk home through the fallen leaves. This winter will supposedly be the coldest for years, with the Thames allegedly to freeze over. Our Slavic friends are rubbing their hands in glee...

Walter Benjamin

wanted to produce a piece of work composed entirely of quotations, in which each quotation informed all others, with no need for commentary. Could dear Walter have simply linked to others had he had a blog?

Question number 1

Blogging is cathartic. Discuss.

Your favourite place

This post on the Blood & Fire website (working my way through the latest Prince Far I release) has led me to post, given that I am the least original individual on the planet. Please post picture(s) of your favourite place(s) if you read this entirely narcissistic blogette...

Some Finnish swearing

written on a London tube map by a Finn and a Yankee for me this evening:

Perkele, Helvetti, Saatan, Vitto, Runkkar.

Some Turkish swearing to follow, once the Guinness has worked its way through my system and I can remember how to add Umlauts.

Lenin, Gagarin and Pushkin

walked into an Indian village.

Mickey Mouse

was suicidal during the 1930's. The full story is here.

Pavlik

is the man behind EINY. I have spent two extended periods with him in Russia, both as students, and the two images below, both of which remind me of his deep understanding of our Russian cousins, will (I hope) remind him of these trips and serve as a tribute to his passionate Russophilia. And it is, of course, a good way to start reminiscences.














The Volga at sunrise, taken from Korsakov



















A view from flats in Petrozavodsk, taken from Joel Summers