Public Service Broadcast

Sobering: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gh3JrdL-Zg&feature=player_embedded *Happy news bulletin: Today whilst sitting in morning sunshine, arduous reading of a long, depressing book about WWII was brought to a halt when two peacock butterflies landed on the page I was on. They were exploiting the flat surface for cleaning of antennae and proboscis. Subsequent 10 minutes was spent in contemplative wonder of their beautiful colourings. Yey :D

Zapp 4

1) I feel reasonably well. I've been eating loads and dare I say it my ghoulish appearance is gradually being replaced by a modest collection of freckles and sunshine. There was one day about a month ago when I cried. It was sparked off by an email from a friend, although on reflection there was nothing unkind or malicious in the words written. It seemed to trigger a response to something else deep within. It was like having a mirror held up to my own hypocrisy. My failure to challenge the things that I hate. The admissions that I will one day become those things. I've been bitten by corporatocracy. It's too late. 2) "You either pay the farmers or pay the hospital" -- kid of 11 gives pretty accurate depiction of the food system http://www.ted.com/talks/birke_baehr_what_s_wrong_with_our_food_system.html

Duke Ellington

1) A few weeks back a blackbird went nuts while I was out in the garden contemplating my handiwork. It was perched on the veg trellis and making a racket. It didn’t budge even when I came up close. I assumed it was annoyed at my presence and wanted to eat my produce (although their taste for runner beans was news to me). I was on my guard and ready to shoo it off. Ten minutes later I overheard mutterings that next door’s cat had just found its way into a blackbird nest and tortured/ate whole one of the chicks there residing. Said loquacious feathered creature wasn't pinching beans. It was communicating sadness at the loss of its baby – all to no avail because of my ignorance of bird-ish. This was confirmed by a bird of brown plumage (mum?) sitting nearby on top of the wheelie bin and looking very much aggrieved. The protest made by (dad) blackbird was not the sound of a thief. It was the noise of mourning. I'm humbled. 2) Sitting on back doorstep listening to Duke Ellington. With wine. 3) Nobody’s perfect.

Black Sabbath 13

GO OZZY!

Glazunov Saxophone Concerto

Playing chess against the computer is like having a conversation with yourself. And losing.

Meic Stevens - Ghost Town

When I was thirteen I got up in front of school and performed a solo violin piece. It was a really obscure choice. I remember the music teacher's look of deep concern. As if up till that point I had possessed a certain degree of respect, and was about to put it in the shredder. I did it anyway. The applause at the end was forthcoming, but uncertain. Like the old Hawkwind song "we took the wrong step years ago.." I feel that this was the first of just many stupid ideas. But then social conformity was always elusive to me. Like that sad realisation that being counted as 'gifted and talented' in school is not a blessing. It is in fact an early signpost to a lifetime of feeling lost and confused in a world where anyone who is even slightly different will be stigmatised. "Sometimes it's better to conform." A friend said this to me recently. She has a point. Sometimes we have to sacrifice ourselves to the flow even though on reflection it isn't what we'd decide given time. I don't know whether at school I was deliberately obtuse or whether it really was impossible to fit in. A bit of both maybe. I used to get called lezza because of my clunky boots. That wasn't deliberate -- I couldn't afford better boots. Interestingly the jeering subsided almost to nothing when I invested in a pair of mainstream branded trainers; which shows you how cheap the elites of conformity are. If I went to school now I'd be classed as autistic. I read somewhere that some people with autism display difficulty in following rules and aligning themselves socially. Is it progress to find new labels for people who think differently? Or just another way of controlling unruly children who happen to have a mind of their own? Whenever you read studies on Autism there seems to be some sort of grey area in between arguments that Autism/EBD is an illness and that it is a brain type. That's a big difference. One wants to treat the 'sick' child who is being afflicted by bad thoughts. The other embraces the child as a victim in a system in which their intelligence and way of thinking are unlikely to ever be accepted.

Morton Feldman

Can't remember what the piece was called. It was short, apparently dedicated to his piano teacher. It sounded like the sky. Well timed radio schedule - just in time to scare the ghost away. You might think I'm making it up. I'm not. There is a spectre thing which comes into my room at night. It tugs at my duvet like a patient calling for the nurse. Maybe it wants to talk. Maybe it wants to be alive again. Not what it's cracked up to be though living, is it? As a ghost you could have more fun turning invisible and scaring chavs. A few hours later bedroom door slammed shut. Would have cacked pants except Dilly was there. I jumped and she sat bolt upright. Strange how a small furry animal can make you feel less alone. She's a really stupid cat but does have an amazing talent for spotting when I'm down. If ever I start descending into the hole of doom she appears as if to say, don't look at that look at me. It's far more exciting. Makes you wonder though, are people with depression weak? Watched a bbc thing a week back. It was about what happens in your head when you get the more severe forms. Apparently part of your brain shrinks and you lose the ability to process normal emotions. Nice. Reassuring in a way. I never felt it was right to tell a victim of clinical depression to 'pull themselves together.' But it's understandable. Sad really. Like the bit of the brain that used to believe in something has been crushed. How do you cure something like that? Part of living here has forced me to recognise my limitations. I am poor, and not 'good' at anything. I'm just dull. What happened to me in the past was a result of me trying to exceed those limitations. I wanted to prove a point. One up against the truth. It went very badly wrong. I wanted to believe that there was something better out there. In fact there was, but even the slightest glimpse came on sufferance. I paid the price. Now I don't even feel better, because all that I could have had is gone. Ignorance = bliss. Those were the days. I've accepted my origins, my history, who I am, and actually it's okay. I'm not good enough. I'm constrained by my own selfishness. Probably always will be. I tried to be good, but one day woke up and realised that I have never been good my whole life. I take after my parents, and that says a lot. At best I consume, at worst I thieve. That little part of my brain that once made happiness just can't anymore. If it feels anything like I do, it's exhausted.