Yesterday’s event are still weighing heavily on my mind. I must be getting sentimental in my old age because this attack has really depressed me. One of the things I hate about London is the tube system. You could call it a phobio, but I always hated being stuck underground between tunnels. It’s almost like being buried alive. When I did the commuter shuffle into town, everytime the train stopped in a tunnel, my stomach turned knots.
With yesterday’s events, I empathise with all those trapped in carriages and down the tunnels. It was my nightmare come true. Of course, I always said it would happen, but to see the pictures of the dead, dying and wounded just saddens me beyond belief.
I am supposed to go to a concert tonight, but I just can’t bring myself to be happy and cheerful and enjoying myself after yesterday. I know we are supposed to have the “Blitz Spirit” and we are supposed to carry on and show them that we aren’t beat, but I just don’t feel like whipping myself up into a frenzy.
Pathetic sniffling little git, ain’t I?
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Yesterday was a day of happiness because London won the Olympic 2012 bid…
Today is a day of sadness because London was attacked by cowardly scum…
The top search strings that brought visitors to this site for June 2005:
1 nookie bear
2 ashbory bass
3 darren lock
4 formentera blog
5 ashbory
6 darren lee blog
7 eno another day on earth review
8 news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/music/4085484.stm
9 another day on earth fan reviews
10 ashbory or アシュボリー or アッシュボリー　mp3
11 ashbory samples
12 bang her
13 cocksucker blues mp3
14 cocksucker blues.mp3
15 eno bone bomb
16 export from minidisc
17 how many darren’s have aids
18 mp3 cocksucker blues
19 mpiaa
20 music lover peter hammill
An interesting selection of search criteria there. The thing that puzzles me is the popuarlity of nookie bear. Then I realised it, some git was leeching an image of the aforementioned dummy from this site to use as his avatar on a number of discussion board. Hey, I don’t pay the bills so you guys can have a free ride. Cheapskate bastards! 🙁
Today is our seventh wedding anniversary. Hurrah! In September, we will be celebrating our seventeenth year “together”. Hurrah! I find anniversaries, birthdays, seasonal holidays all so depressing. It’s another reminder of the passage of time, as if looking in the mirror wasn’t enough. I am still the no good, worthless bum that I was when I was seventeen. Of course, I am different. I have learnt lessons of humility and tolerance, but essentially I still feel the same. Don’t get me wrong – I am not miserable about the anniversary or the amount of time we’ve been together – it’s just those little reminders that prick you and tell you that you won’t be here forever. I am one of those people who can’t stand having his photo taken. There are two reasons for this: 1) I am physically repulsive and 2) I can’t stand looking at photographs. When I look in a photo album, it brings on abject misery has frozen moments of time remind you of happier times, when everyone was here and when you were a younger, more handsome idealist. You could do anything if you wanted to. But you got scared and gave up too soon. So I hate photo albums despite The Missus’s insistence that she takes a snap of me whenever we are somewhere or if she’s come to the end of a reel of film in her camera. Me and the dog are usually the last two pictures. Oh well, buck up, cretin. You are stll here and you can still feed yourself and fuck. Be grateful for that, eh?
Anyway, I bought The Missus a nice present that she wanted, there were some nice flowers from my mum and cards from the in-laws. At least her folks remembered this time (unlike the year they forgot my birthday and our anniversary).
In the post (last Thursday): the second set of VDGG remasters. Yay, these are pretty good fun and I had forgotten what a great album “Fool’s Mate” is. Not so sure about the “extra tracks” on the VDGG remasters – they are rubbish sounding bootlegged live performances and in the style of the VDGG “The Box” set, fricking unlistenable. Anyway, gets me pumped up for Friday. While listening to Godbluff in the car, the Missus remarks: “You know what? I think I’ve finally got VDGG. They’re really great. Better than King Crimson live.”
That’s my girl… 😉
As for yesterday’s Live8 concert, I watched the whole thing and thought it was a lot more slick than the original. I thought the concert at the Eden Project had more charm, better music and atmosphere. Though when the reunited Pink Floyd came on, I had to pinch myself. It was a remarkable performance.
As for Live8 and G8, I am going to leave the Africans to tell you how it is:
Its all funny because 95% Africans living in Africa have never heard of Bob Geldof or Live Aid. Obviously all the money from the last one has gone but we in Africa have not seen the effect.
Gabriel, Lagos, Nigeria
I’m rather pleased with all the effort put into the event. It certainly raises awareness and puts pressure on politicians but, all the aid in the world won’t make poverty history. I’m of the opinion that the most effective way to make a difference would be to fight the corruption that diminishes any positive effect that can be made by financial aid. Billions of dollars have been donated since the 70s and yet, several countries are worse off than they were then. So it’s obvious that the problems aren’t just financial.
Sujo, Lagos, Nigeria
It will take centuries to liberate Africa…and I’ve already done my bit by voting in Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, the architects of this plan to drop the debt. But until a solution can be found where the poor are no longer repressed by their own, corrupt politicians, the likes of Geldof will be chasing their tails.
A second night of horrible disjointed sleep. It seems that some hoody-wearing, ASBO-flouting yobbo is taking great delight at using the neighbouring roads as a racetrack in the early hours of the morning. Now this is not London, this is not Downtown LA, this is sleepy old Loughton, where the roads were built in the early 1950s when it was thought that cars would be a fad. Our roads are roughly the width of one and a half cars. Our road is particularly small because there are no houses opposite us, just open green space. At 1.40am, the first lap began and the car tore down the avenue at what sounded like 60/70 miles an hour. The vibration was enough to make The Missus’s car alarm go off. This was repeated at 2.55am and the car alarm went off again. At 3.55am, he came back again and I sat up bolt upright as someone does when they’ve been woken suddenly, my heart beating fast in my chest. Luckily, no car alarm was triggered but this driver was tearing down the street.
I am curious to know who it is and I am considering setting up my video camera just to see if it is someone local to us. This is the second night in succession that this has happened and the guy is only moments away from having a serious crash. And knowing our luck, it will be The Missus’s car he crashes into.
What I love about Alex the Wonderdog, guard dog supreme, furry outrider of doom, is that whenever this car goes past or our car alarm goes off, he remains motionless in his bed…asleep in his slumbers, neither disturbed or concerned about the noise. But then give him a barely audible thunderclap in the distance that only HE can hear and he’s jumping up on the bed for cuddles. That boy needs to get with the programme… 🙂
My god, wasn’t Glastonbury boring this year? I always tune into the coverage and enjoy a mix of old and new talent, but this year it was crap. I am sooo sick of four-piece guitar bands who think it is 1979 and have nicked all the spikey riffs from XTC. I am sick of the DJs who play records, wave their arms above their heads and then collect their cheque. I am sick of the dance bands who perform solely to a backing track. I am sick of the drug-addled, pathetic snotstain that is Pete Doherty pretending he is street. The sooner that piece of human waste flushes himself away on the end of a dirty needle, the better. Frankly, the quality of music and performance was the pits. There were no great headliners there – even an appearance from clodmeisters like Oasis would have lifted spirits. It came to something that the most enjoyable group on their was Coldplay, a band so bland that I have to pinch myself everytime their records come on. I was almost enjoying their set until Chris Martin called me a knobhead through the TV screen for being cynical about Live8. Hey, it’s called democracy and free speech, buddy. Go liberate some of those poor people you bleat on about and give them the choice of free speech too (without being fed feet first into the woodchipper). Just think, if he had kept his mouth shut, I might have been convinced by him and his cronies that Live8 was a good thing. But now I am with Noel and Damon on this one…wow, those are unlikely bedfellows, ain’t they?
The most endearing performance was The White Stripes. I said to The Missus, “You’ve got to see this.” And we watched as those two muppets howled their way through a set. On Meg White’s drumming, the Missus commented: “It’s like me up there. It’s like someone has said: ‘We need someone to play drums at Glastonbury and you’ll do. Just try and keep the beat going'”. Indeed, it was the most amateurish performance I had ever seen. How the fuck these people make a career out of music, I do not know, but the kids eat this shit up because it is “trendy” it is “retro” it is “American”. No, it is tuneless pap. Try getting the drummer to a fricking drumroll…it ain’t gonna happen, baby.
The rest of the weekend I’ve been doing some DIY around the house. Armed with a paintbrush and some white paint I have been destroying the scourge of the universe. You probably think that the universal colour for depression and misery is black, but you are wrong. It is a light shitty brown. How do I know? Because the previous owners of Chez Lock painted the doors and wainscotting a light shade of diarrhea. You know, that kind of excretion that comes after a dodgy meal out or that burger you bought from that stall at 2am in the morning after too much to drink. Yes, that kind of diarrhea brown. Anyway, it’s going, going, gone. Darren and his magic paintbrush is setting to work. I could get used to this.
In the post: junk mail.
What’s been going on? Not a lot. It’s been hot and a little bit unpleasant at Chez Lock. While I like the warm weather, the muggy evenings are a drag and it is hard to get a decent night’s sleep.
The recent idea bugging me is playing live. I have about 30+ minutes of material that I can play to my own satisfaction, but I am wondering who would want to hear a fourth-rate guitarist playing over his own backing? You see, I’ve made up some backing tracks with the main solos stripped out so I can play along. This seems a bit of a swizz to me, but how else can I play without a proper band behind me (and I am too long in the tooth to mess around with bands. I want to play my music my way and without having to worry whether or not the drummer is going to turn up sober).
So this is it. Here are two tracks I’ve worked on. I’m presented the solos stripped out version, so you can hear them “naked” and the “live” version with me noodling over the top. If my solitary reader enjoys this, let me know because I am in the dark here without feedback.
Without the solo
With the solo
Without the solo
With the solo
Or am I just wasting my time???
In the post: claim form to claim back the £94 MemoryStick that the Royal Mail lost.