A made man comes apart, seams unravelling Bolts become unscrewed; Filled full of dust and dirt Electrical kickstarter Blood pumped in from poison vials, Eyes barely open to see machines Clinging to this life for a madman’s dreams
Confusion reigns in this laboratory there seems to be something in the air; A sadness amongst the madness Who is the real madman here? A sigh, a final breath; Living forever is a fool’s game Give it up This dream? Dead
Pretty good again. Trying not to think too much about the events on this day last year. We go on until we don’t.
Today I’m grateful for:
Being able to easily find the Chinese TV version of The Three Body Problem. I’ll watch that over the holidays.
The best thing about today was:
Being able to sneak a coffee from 22 Grams this afternoon as we took Cap to get checked at the vet. Still the best coffee in Chiang Rai for me.
Cap’s blood levels are a little high for his kidneys now so we have to get him tested again in a couple of weeks.
Something I learned today?
I think it is at the UN that the USA is always found in breach of rules and they always launch an appeal.
But appeals are never heard so that the USA doesn’t have to follow the rules until the appeal is over.
Why are the appeals never heard? Because since the last two appeals judges retired the USA has blocked the positions of any new ones.
Hmm – and they call themselves part of the rules-based order.
Review your acts, and then for vile deeds chide yourself, for good be glad. — Discourses 3.10
I ordered a 32” globe for Amy as an anniversary gift. I hope it isn’t too plastic and cheap-looking when it arrives.
I took this picture because yesterday the gardeners came and tried to trip our hedge so that we push the fence back up. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple and we’ll ask the builder who is coming to fix the drain in the garage soon.
I am so happy and grateful for the chicken that laid the egg that Amy is about to cook in the kitchen. I hope the chicken is having a good life and not stuck in a factory farm somewhere.
Record of the Week: Lookin’ For Clues – Robert Palmer
Expecting Graeme 10am – he didn’t come – should come tomorrow Dentist 3.20pm
11th July 2021 – Graeme Gray – it was all his fault. Somewhere in 1979 or 1980 he told me about this outrageously named band the Sex Pistols and their song Friggin’ in the Riggin’, the lyrics of which excited these typically dumb 13-year-old boys. For some reason I feel that it was later that I saw the Sex Pistols video for ‘Pretty Vacant’ on Top of the Pops – but looking back it seems that that was in 1977, so I had already come across them, perhaps not knowing who they were. I do remember though their bass player, whom I commented to my mother, looked like Frankenstein. My mother and I would always watch the horror double bill on Saturday nights, after Match of the Day, so Frankenstein and Dracula were always a clear black and white image in my mind.
Frankenstein on Top of the Pops
These were the clear seeds of my interest in punk rock and it didn’t take long for me to immerse myself in it.
It seems weird to me now that I would invite a friend over on the same day I had to go to the dentist. Time has a different meaning to pre-teens though.
Anyway, later in 1979, Graeme’s parents moved out to the New Forest, to manage the Red Shoot Inn, yet somehow we managed to stay in touch. I felt it was fairly unusual for kids our age to stay in touch by old style phone in those days – if you weren’t within biking distance and attending the same school then it was practically impossible to be friends.
Graeme and I had a few adventures here before I was forbidden by his parents to visit again.
Each week I would write down whatever song/s stuck in my mind from listening to the radio. I’m just reminding myself about this Robert Palmer song as I have no memory of it now. An appealing upbeat jaunty pop number with a bit of a quirky middle section. Goes well along with XTC and Squeeze tunes that would have been popular around this time.
Music was becoming a bigger part of my interest, though as it had been an interest for most people generally as there weren’t really many other options, it was always around and I often looked through my mother’s collection of June Tabor, James Last and Martin Carthy records and fantasising about these people and their lives. I couldn’t stop playing her Lonnie Donegan album and the Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood album, often sitting in my window singing along, hoping that my Nancy Sinatra may hear. I had a fabulous fantasy world in my head, stuck out in the Dorset countryside.
1994ever 