Wednesday, April 26, 2006


i'd just finished a very good offline entry, ready to cut and paste here, when......

notepad froze! NOTEPAD!!!! i mean that just doesn't happen!

anyway i had writen all about what was happening in te barcelona - milan game, a woman in a black dress, the first mosquito kill of the year and how i was planning to change the spellings of first and least to firts and leats as they seem easier to type.

anyway milan are out of the champions. so hopefully arenal will beat villa real and we'll have a decent final.

pity you can't read the rest of what i'd written, it was really good.

Friday, April 21, 2006


spent the past two weeks with the hacking glob expurgers, the explungding lungs and the nostril glueshutters. and just as i thought i'd got rid of them along came the raging dollops, the gut crinkers and the ringstingers from hell. my grips were cribbled and my hrenks nonconflunchulated.

but i lost quite a bit of me belly

Monday, April 10, 2006


Dan looked at Joe, his natural yoghurt and honey, cavalier's moustache glinting in the light of the kitchen lamp. Joe returned the look, a glint and more than just a hint of dairy product in his eye, nose, ears and hair.
"BOB!" they shouted in unison.
"Na na" cried Dan pointing to the devastation which had once been a cheap, but clean and functional worksurface, "Na na, nana naa naaa!"
"BOB!" added Joe launching an 'Anyway Up Cup' with the skill akin to that of a fully paid up member of the Black Block brick Throwers Union.
"BOB!" and away went a spoon.
"NANA!" followed by his sticky sibling's proof of skill with the Surprise Dessert Dish Lob.

And the curtains were pencilled in for an earlier than scheduled wash.


sunday 9th april

i don't know if this story made the headlines outside of italy but;
yesterday was the live, televised funeral of an 18 month old baby, tommaso. i didn't watch as i simply don't like the organised hysteria, the weeping and wailing and people applauding coffins. i guess that's a cultural thing, i'm from a working class, northern english background, from a very close and loving family but one which perhaps has a different ideas to what i see here in italy. different ideas of respect and the like in the case of a loss, a death, hat is sure. for example - a banal and insignificant thing but interesting to me all the same. a short time ago the grandmother of a very close friend passed away. iwas not particularly close to the 'signora', my partner however was and the old lady was close to my children. anyway nic couldn't make the funeral but i could, so naturally i attended. a catholic mass. i am not religious in any way and have certain issues with the catholic church in particular but that would in no way stop me from attending the funeral, i simply had to, as a mark of respect to the lady and as a gesture of friendship and support to my friends. i went to church in black suit, white shirt, black tie - as is 'tradition' in our part of the world, i couldn't contemplate otherwise.
the interesting things was that everyone else was dreesed very casually, jeans, tee-shirts, leather bomber jackets - comfortable and i suppose practical clothes, the funeral lasts a couple of hours then life returns to normal for most of the attendees. i felt very out of place, i felt 'wrong'. however one of the major comments, apart from the nice service, was about the elegant gentleman in the suit. apparently the family was very moved at the gesture. moved at the very obvious gesture of respect whereas i felt most uncomfortably over dressed, like i'd made a gaffe - but i couldn't contemplate attending dressed otherwise.
cultural differences - my attire was strange to, yet most appreciated by the italians, and was, personally obligatory yet strangely uncomfortable to me. as they say here...."Boh!?"

anyway Tommaso.
tommaso was kidnapped a month ago, a month in which we followed the search for him and his kidnappers daily, only to find out in the end that he'd been clubbed to death hours after the kidnapping, because he was crying! they panicked apparently - poor bastards it must have been a terrible strain... no-one knows the true story, the mafia has been mentioned, the father was involved, the father wasn't involved, the killer's wife was most certainly involved - the mother of a 6 year old with heart problems who is now in the public eye. the italian media are a bunch of hysteria-mongering shits if you ask me. tonights news brought it to our attention that this little boy, if he survives his ailments will be forever branded as his father's son and effecually ostracised by society.
he's six for goodness sake! if we brand him now it's obvious he'll be forever in the shadow of his father's crime. in my opinion we should have been informed of his existence, he's going to live with relatives in sicily where hopefully he'll find love, support and a good home. although according to the news the village where his relatives live is a typical small town where children are held accountable for the rights and wrongs of the family - now they all know he's going there!
according to the journalists of TG5, hopefully he'll eventually be able to move away to a big city where he, with his common surname will be able to blend into the background, become anonymous.
absolutely fucking brilliant!
they could have just respected his right, as a 6 year old, to remain anonymous now instead of planting the seed of potential stupidity into the heads of the potentially stupid - a dangerous mix.

tommaso was 18 months old, my boys are just two months older than him. and i worry, not about them - i simply don't have that panic about the baby system set up in me, ( i watch them like a hawk, but from a safe distance. i worry about their futures, in case they turn out like me. i'll consider it a serious personal failure as a parent if they end up with my fears and nervous problems.) i worry about myself - insomuch as what i feel should be done to the murderers of Tommaso, if it was them of course. there's a gut instinct in me which has gradually emerged over the past few years, which i don't like that much as it often involves making people who commit vile crimes, pay a suitable price. i would quite happily kick the shit out of someone who harmed my family (ANY of my family). I couldn't kill. I know that for sure, or do real physical damage - psychological damage yes however - perhaps i am a real bastard..?
i'm just not as easy going as i was. mind you i used to feel no remorse about flattening someone who pushed me on the dancefloor or joining in a ruck against the wankers who where giving us lip for having long hair. but that all passed, or so i thought.
another unfinished ramble.
at least i'm consistent eh?

Tommaso, i couldn't read about you in the papers and i couldn't find it in me to watch that much on t.v. but it doesn't mean i don't care.

ten more wonder(if)s of the world

saturday 8th april, afternoon

i wonder if they'll ever realise that red wine is nearer purple
i wonder if they'll ever realise that red grapes, for the most part, really are purple
i wonder if i've just wasted two 'i wonder ifs'
i wonder if i've just saved my self the bother of having to really wonder if 3 times
i wonder if you bottom really would fall of if you untied your belly button
i wonder if you could exchange 'belly button' for 'a knot in the stomach' - "i was so worried i couldn't eat for the belly button"
i wonder, if i could have made that funnier - why didn't i?
i wonder if the people who say they really care, really do and if the people who say they really don't care, really don't. from experience i don't think so
i wonder if i knew what it was that was eating up and driving me on, whether it would still continue to eat me up and whether i'd let myself be driven on
i wonder i'm just not built for this world i live in. i try. i want to be able to just get on with things, lead a normal, peaceful life, look after my family, do my job as well as i can. but there's just somethings that simply seems out to sabotage everyhing i do - like i said churchill had his black dogs (led zeppelin had one too if i'm not mistaken) - luccky bugger, at least his took on a constant, identifiable form. they are most present at moments of success. and that includes getting the shopping done without major confusion.
and there you's gone again, the ol' devil caled concentration....


the mysteries of non fried maize snack stuffs

saturday 8th april, afternoon

why do they put powdered cheese in fonzies(tm), when there are perfectly good chemicals out there that actually do taste like cheese?

a packet of singing peas perhaps

saturday 8th april, afternoon

well then, just polished off a nice bottle of Corvo - a mid-priced (supermarket) sicilian red. A mix of Nero d'Avola, Nerello Mascalese and Pignatello if my tasty buds do not deceive me, or my eyesight for that matter as i'm trying to read the label through very dirty glasses. when the old blood pressure goes up the old lamp oil goes down it would seem. By Odin's wode clad wooden britches! i've reached an age where one has to remove ones spectacles to read. i live in fear of the arrival of the bifocal. instead i propose that all books be printed bigger, packaged foodstuffs to come with a sound chip (like those awful singing birthday cards) which reads out the ingredients and additives and potential side effects of the comestible under scrutiny and that televisions come with prescription screens.


friday 7th april p.m.

been doing some translations for a website on music from the mediaeval/renaissance periods - at least that's what i think it is! my part had nothing to do with the music side, just all terms and conditions, privacy and copyright policies, technical stuff on how to use the site and all that. i just needed MORE work!
on top of the day job i've got two private courses, the biography of the world famous and highly acclaimed deaf kneed lothario and erstwhile stick whittling champion, sol nte. the man who discovered the trick to deciphering the baltic tongue by simply walking backwards, and whose sixty year taxi ride back from red square is stuff of legend, second only to his orange trousers.
then -
i've been trying to sift through the quagmire which is the freeformfreakout organisation archived materials dept. having once missed the 's' off i found my self knee-deep in second-hand military twill and camphor scented taffeta. after a week of intense dressing up i decided to go to the materials archive and dig out the scores which had been requested for inclusion in the Fluxus Performance Workbook.
to be published who knows where and who knows when, if ever - but at least it made me look at some stuff.
i took a directorial decision not to edit for fear of actually throwing everything out. i did decide however to have the quagmire of an archive dried and turned into rubble, which is bay far easier to sift through. then, i'm supposed to be producing a Historical Atlas of Fluxlist for which I have recieved two pieces, and i think they're about the same person. i haven't finished mine yet either. then there's a major, and top secret, project underway. a collaborative affair with another who has recently been struck down with a touch of glumness and the neuhaus nadger shrinking stresses. then there's the music. i really have to do the acoustic interpretations stuff or i fear i may go crackers. and the electronic stuff needs to be practised and i need to learn more than Dmaj, Dmin, D7 and C on the keyboard. then i've been asked to provide a soundtrack for a short video - which i really want to do - just that when i try and contact the artist, she's not there.

oh, and there's my life as well. one twin has the gurgling hurlies and the other the is in training for the World Wooden Toy Throwing Championships.